Ask Me to Stay (5 page)

‘It’s not like that. I’m building a fence.’

‘Okay. Build a bridge while you’re at it, boss.’

Chuckling, Dean hung up. More noise turned his eyes back to the window. Cal had arrived. He and Ethan were dragging tools from the tray of Cal’s ute.

Dean climbed the stairs. He checked on the kids, who were watching a DVD in the upstairs living room, then changed into his ratty tracksuit pants, a paint-stained shirt and an old pair of steel-capped boots.

It was strange working alongside Dean this way. Strange but kind of wonderful. As Ethan used his body weight to leverage a fence post free from the earth, Cal and Dean speared metal bars into its rotted side to assist. It collapsed onto the grass, the heavy, booming sound of impact indicative of its weight. Cal tossed his bar down and began to kick the post, rolling it towards the pile they were constructing that would tonight make for a magnificent bonfire.

The invites had already gone out. The boys from the garage, the neighbours, Sammy and Anna, Bree’s mum if she could bear it. If you heard about it around town, you were as good as invited. They had a lot of space on this big property, and a need to fill it.

It had been a long day. A pleasant surprise, also, that Dean had been a part of it. A small bit of Ethan, the bit that looked to his older brother and longed to impress him, had hoped to have most of this done by the time his brother had got back from work. A surprise, of sorts. But thinking on it now, they were only so far along with the fence because there were three of them.

Five of them, he amended. The kids made five.

Rowan had an affinity for progress and change. And an uncanny sense for sequence for his age. He would look at what the men were doing and he would somehow know what came next, what they would soon need, what tool they would use to do what. He was the best damn assistant Ethan had ever had.

Dean had noticed it too. He’d made some jokes about the garage – Rowan had zero interest in the mechanical workings of an engine – but he’d kept a close eye on his son, clearly intrigued by this side of him.

Nina was pulling her weight too. She’d changed into gumboots, mimicking the men’s work boots, and had taken it upon herself to nurture the emotional needs of the team. She’d fetched hats when the sun had become cruel, insisted on drinks breaks and sunscreen reapplication. Of course, she’d called it ‘sun scream’, which had earned a laugh. And she was a regular comedy show, waltzing about in dozens of necklaces that clicked and tinkled with every step.

As she’d grown bored, she’d become more inventive. Nervous looks had been exchanged when she’d raced into the house, struck mute by a brilliant idea. She’d returned carrying a strange-looking book. It was bound in one corner and fanned out like paint swatches, and contained seemingly endless quiz questions. For the last hour she’d read them aloud. She was keeping a scorecard in the dirt and Cal was winning.

‘You know a hell of a lot about nonsense stuff,’ Ethan grunted, combining his strength with Cal’s to lower a post into the latest hole.

‘People talk about everything in pubs. I could tell you what maths score Wes Clarkson got on his latest test and why Kathy Mooney failed her driving test, too.’

‘Town of bloody gossips,’ Ethan grumbled. ‘They think they’ve got it all worked out.’

He saw Cal exchange a look with Dean and decided to ignore it. ‘You’re not about to go in to work and stand on your feet for eight hours, are you, mate?’

‘Like hell,’ Cal laughed, ‘there’s no point, anyway. All of my regulars are going to be here for dinner. This bonfire’s going to empty out the pub, we’ll need one person working tonight, max, and I’m telling you, it isn’t going to be me.’ He wiped his brow then went very still. Nina had hurried towards him. Intrigued, he crouched down to level his face with hers. She dabbed his forehead with a wet washcloth then scampered back to her seat.

When Cal rose, Ethan could tell he was a little more in love with the tiny darling.

Cal returned to work. ‘You know I own the place now, don’t you?’

Ethan straightened his back. ‘What? The pub?’

‘Yep. Have done for a year now.’

‘As if, you’re bloody twenty-nine.’

Dean took the tool Ethan wasn’t using, used it himself. ‘He does. He saved his arse off and bought the old dump.’

‘If you want to start paying for your drinks there, keep talking like that.’

Dean grinned.

‘No kidding,’ Ethan said, impressed and a little intimidated.

Nina called over to them. ‘In the book . . .
Little Women
, how many . . . daughters . . . are there in the family?’

No one could answer her.

‘Four.’

‘These are hard,’ Ethan grumbled. ‘Surely she doesn’t know all the answers to these questions? I’d sell her for a mint if she was that smart.’

Dean laughed. ‘She doesn’t understand half of the stuff she’s asking.’ He kept his voice too low for her to hear. ‘But she likes to read aloud and I reckon she’s damn good at it.’

Cal nodded. ‘She’s so cute.’

Ethan nudged Dean in the ribs and grinned. ‘Hey, listen to this.’ He raised his voice. ‘Neenz!’

‘Yeah?’

‘Lookin’ good!’

She fingered her jewels and preened. ‘I’m beautiful!’

‘And modest.’

‘I’m beautiful and modest!’

‘And what am I?’

‘Gross torrent!’

The men howled with laughter, and for just a moment, the pain – both physical and mental – fled from their bodies.

They came by the carload. They came bumping along in the back of utes, eskys between their knees, folding chairs underfoot. Dozens of families, at least twenty of the local business owners and most of the young ones from Rowan and Nina’s primary school.

Some had thought to bring their portable barbeques, and these had been set up around the towering log pile that would soon light up the night sky. The smell of cooking meat and onions was mouth-watering. Hinterdown’s part-time football coach tipped a large container of sliced potatoes onto his grill amidst groans of appreciation.

Those without families came with beer and swags. None were planning on driving home tonight. The baker had brought all the bread he hadn’t sold. He stood with Sal and another woman Ethan didn’t know, buttering rolls and swapping stories.

They paused when Nina approached noisily, still wearing her mother’s jewellery. Everyone knew the necklaces belonged to Bree, it hadn’t needed to be said. Nina tilted her chin imperiously and pointed to the butter.

‘Ethan’s gross torrent!’

Ethan grinned. The kid was going to be the death of him. His heart was going to burst with love, he just knew it. He watched her supervise the setting aside of two breadrolls, then cast his eyes over the crowd, looking for the rest of his family.

Rowan was chasing his friends around the yard, reanimated and talking a mile a minute again. Dean was standing a little apart from a group gathered around a barbeque, fussing with the label on his beer, tearing it with his thumbnail. He was the new widower. It was a title he wouldn’t be able to shake for a long time yet. He missed Bree, Ethan could see that, ached for her even. But he was holding himself together. He was being strong for the kids. Keeping what was left of his life in order. Ethan idolised the man. Dean was everything Ethan wished he could be himself – brave, loyal, dependable and solid. When the going got tough, Dean got going. He was an everyday hero. A role model.

And it shamed Ethan that Dean was a little soiled by his relation to him.

He wanted to be a better man for his brother, but there was too much Ray Foster in Ethan. Some would say that wasn’t a bad thing. But Ethan knew better.

As he always did, Ethan searched for Sammy in the crowd. He found her sitting on a collapsible chair, holding a soft drink between her knees, laughing at something the man at her side was saying. She wore jeans in anticipation of the cooler night and there was a light jacket at her feet. The orange shirt she wore licked over her subtle curves. It wasn’t sexy in the conventional sense, but it offered a dramatic contrast to her black hair and made her tan appear darker. She wore a small gold chain about her wrist that he recognised, and something akin to hope bloomed in his chest.

He made his way towards her. He wasn’t intercepted. No one had anything to say to the hopeless runaway.

To Sammy’s and the man’s surprise, Ethan pulled up an empty chair and joined them without invitation. What was an invitation among friends, after all?

‘Uh . . . Carl, this is Ethan.’

Carl extended a hand and Ethan shook it. Carl glanced at Sammy, clearly gauging her response to the newcomer, and Ethan liked him for it.

Carl said, ‘I’m going to get a beer. Want anything?’

Sammy shook her head. Ethan held up a hand, indicating that he was fine, too.

‘You all right with this guy?’

Sam nodded. Carl left.

‘Boyfriend?’ Ethan asked lightly.

‘Ex.’

‘Huh. How long ago?’

‘A year ago now.’

‘He doesn’t know who I am.’

‘Should he?’

Ethan shrugged. ‘Anyway, I’m comforted. If you can sit by a bonfire with him you can sit by a bonfire with me. Are you on good terms with all of your exes?’

Sammy ignored this question, choosing instead to drink.

He waited. ‘He’s not your type.’

She sniffed. ‘What’s my type?’

‘I’m your type.’

‘Who says?’

‘Two years together says I’m your type.’

‘I was with him for three.’

‘Liar.’

Sammy shrugged and looked away.

They sat together in silence. Ethan wasn’t sure if it were a comfortable one or not – Sammy had always been hard to read. But he enjoyed her company all the same.

‘So are you a carpenter or something?’ she finally asked.

‘Yeah.’

‘Officially?’

‘I’ve got my trade licence, so yeah.’

‘Where’d you get that?’

‘Lithgow.’

‘Lithgow? That’s where you’re living now?’

‘Yep.’

‘Why don’t you come back more?’

‘It’s hardly close, Sammy-doll. But I have my reasons for only wanting short doses of this place.’

‘Tell me them.’

He looked at her, really looked, and thought she might understand. He even thought he could trust her with his secret. But years of repression barred the words from his tongue. ‘I can’t.’

She stood. Looking at him, her mouth downturned and her eyes full of disappointment, she said, ‘You’re a coward.’

As she walked away, he began to nod. ‘That’s one of the reasons.’

Caleb watched his old best friend comfort himself with a beer. Ethan had watched Sam walk away until the crowd had swallowed her, and now he looked at his feet. Sam was a closed book if ever there was one, but Cal could count on a few subtle tells.

When Ethan was in town, she didn’t suffer or hurt, but thrived. Sam became the best version of herself imaginable. Chin up, sass on, the woman was a force to be reckoned with. And because Ethan was so rarely in these parts, he had no idea that it was mostly an act. Sam was strong, there was no denying it, but she wasn’t Wonder Woman, as she no doubt had him believing.

Sam hurt like any other. But she was the ultimate survivor. It set her apart from the people who drowned in grief or got in their own way. It made her a woman to admire and to aspire to be like. But it also made Cal worry.

If Sam was still putting on this act for a man who had left her in his dust over a decade ago, then clearly he still mattered. And if he still mattered, she still hurt.

Cal set his jaw and excused himself from the conversation he’d been pretending to be part of. He crossed the loose circle of people surrounding the unlit bonfire and stood where he loomed over its host.

Ethan looked up, blinked and pushed to his feet. Cal’s height advantage was lost.

‘You hurt my sister.’

Ethan pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed. ‘Christ, Cal. Memory lane, really?’

‘She deserved better.’

‘We all know that. You think I don’t know?’ He threw his hand to his side. A sign of frustration that intrigued Cal. He filed it away for later examination. ‘Besides, I think she’s fine about it. I think she was always fine about it.’ Ethan muttered something unintelligible and Cal raised his brows.

This was new. Or was it old?

Ethan looked into the distance as Cal processed.

Eventually Cal settled for a threat. ‘Hurt her again and there will be more than metaphorical blood between us. I’ll break every bone in your face, and then some of your ribs for the hell of it.’

Ethan arched a brow. ‘Message received.’

Satisfied that he’d done his due diligence, Cal’s demeanour changed. He slapped Ethan on the back. ‘Help me light this sucker.’

They hunted down Dean, who was all too happy to extract himself from a conversation about spirit wolves with the local spiritualist, and passed handfuls of the local newspaper around between them. As they scrunched, tore and tucked the pages into pockets between the logs, someone shouted, ‘That’s what they think of your paper, Brian!’

People laughed. Many with their mouths full. The sausages had been handed out on bread rolls with sauce and onions. Kids gathered close, all holding sticks with marshmallows stuck on them.

Rowan and Nina had collected kindling this afternoon, and the men used it now to pad out the base of the stack and give the fire some easy fuel. When Dean struck a match, the first lick of yellow flame coaxed a cheer from the crowd. He grinned and let the match fly. It fell into the pile, a moment passed, then smoke climbed skyward.

After a few more well-aimed matches, the pile was ablaze.

Cal laughed with his neighbours and joined in a goofy fire dance with the kids, but he wasn’t able to forget the time. Anna was late, if she was even coming at all. When he’d called her this morning to tell her about their plans for a bonfire, she’d sounded distracted and irritable.

‘Doesn’t it sound amazing?’ he’d prompted.

‘It sounds like every other party we’ve been to this year. It’s the same people talking about the same crap.’

‘It’s not the same people, Ethan will be here.’

Which hadn’t seemed to impress her.

Anna was originally from the city. She’d moved out here eighteen months ago with her then boyfriend. Things hadn’t worked out between them and he’d moved back to Sydney, stranding her here in a dead-end job in a town full of strangers. Cal had met her the way he met most new locals – they came into his pub needing a drink.

Six months ago he’d talked her into dinner, and she’d enjoyed herself. They’d been together ever since, and they’d mostly been happy. He knew that she missed the city, and he planned to take her back there for a holiday when he had someone at the pub trained up enough to run it without him. But for now they had each other. He’d tried to foster a friendship between Anna and Sam, but it hadn’t gotten off the ground, which was a shame.

Anna seemed to prefer to keep to herself, and she probably thought Cal spent too much time at Dean’s, but he couldn’t help that – he was drawn to this place. Especially now, when Dean needed a lot of help and support.

He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket and he eased out of the crowd. It was a text message from her, saying she was out the front of Dean’s house. He jogged around to meet her, thrilled that she had come, after all.

She was waiting by her car door, arms crossed, face shrouded in semi-darkness.

He moved to close his arms around her but she shrugged away. He pocketed his hands. He could be too much, he reminded himself. He crowded her. Nevertheless, his body eased towards her when she spoke.

‘Sounds like some party.’

‘It’s great. Come round back. Dean’s saved that wine you like; I’ll pour you a glass.’

She tightened her arms around herself. ‘That’s not a good idea.’

‘You won’t have to drive. We can stay, there’s plenty of rooms.’

‘I can’t drink at the moment. It makes me sick.’

He frowned. ‘It makes you . . .’ He trailed off. His brows shot up.

‘I’m pregnant.’

The flat, abrupt way she said it was jarring, but the words still had the same meaning. A thrill tripped up his spine. He’d seized her before she could dodge him, and with his arms tight around her, he lifted Anna from her feet and kissed her full on the mouth.

‘Baby, that’s amazing! Oh my God, this is amazing!’

She thrashed and he released her. ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘Just stop for a minute. We need to talk.’

Numb with joy and surprise, the warning bells in his head did not sound loudly enough. He made fists with his hands and pumped them towards the stars. ‘Yes!’ he cried. He looked down at her. ‘Baby, yes!’

‘Caleb, I’m leaving.’

He jumped to action. ‘Okay, okay. I’ll, uh – I’ll tell Dean I’m going home. I’ll be right back —’

‘Caleb, you’re not listening.’

He paused, startled by her tone.

‘I’m leaving
you
.’ When his eyes dropped involuntarily to her stomach she uncrossed her arms to put her hands on her hips. ‘I’m not keeping the baby. I don’t want this.’ She waved a hand at the farmhouse, at the bonfire beyond. At Cal.

For the first time, he looked past her into her car. It was packed full of suitcases and large plastic bags knotted at the top.

‘You’ve been nice to me. You’ve spoiled me and loved me. Thank you for that. But I need more than a kid-crazy barman. This just isn’t enough.’

‘I own the bar,’ he said quietly, unsure why that was what he chose to defend.

She sighed, as if this fact was somehow disappointing. ‘I know. But I’ve got to get out of here. I feel like I’ve got cabin fever. And now this?’ She pointed at her flat stomach. ‘I can’t be stuck here. Not here, not with a kid and a guy who pours drinks for a living. I want a bigger life.’ Her hand fell to her side and her brows crept together. ‘Don’t you ever wish for that?’

‘I —’ I’m happy, he thought to say. Or at least he had been until a few minutes ago, when he’d thought all his dreams had come true. His small, meagre, pitiful dreams . . .

She opened the car door. ‘I’ll send you confirmation of the termination. I wasn’t going to say anything, but I figured you had a right to know.’

Anna lowered herself behind the wheel and put the car in reverse. She hadn’t even turned off the engine, so brief had she expected her conversation with him to be. She waved as she turned. Caleb’s hope and happiness was dragged through the dirt in her wake, to fade eventually when her tail-lights slipped out of sight.

Sam hadn’t seen Cal for over an hour. She had just about run out of rooms to check when she found Ethan. He sat at his childhood desk, almost comically too big for it now. His fingers touched a glass. Beside it a near-empty whisky bottle held pride of place.

She stepped in. ‘Drinking alone. That’s rarely a good sign.’

Bloodshot, heavy-lidded eyes blinked at her. His bottom lip protruded in what was perhaps meant to be a thoughtful way, and he nodded. The movement made him wince.

‘Did Cal tell you he was leaving?’

Ethan thumbed his chin then fingered his cheek. ‘Nope. Nobody tells Ethan anything.’

She turned to the door. ‘Well, stick around long enough and one day someone will.’

‘You tell me something.’

Her fingers touched the doorframe, ready to grip, to anchor her should he rip the world out from beneath her feet again. She looked over her shoulder. He’d turned in his seat, engaging in the conversation.

‘What do you want to know?’

He rolled his bottom lip between his teeth then spoke through his hand. ‘Did I hurt you, Sammy-doll?’