Kandy Shepherd - One Unforgettable Summer

He shook his head. ‘It’s not that easy, Sandy.’

‘Of course it isn’t easy. It isn’t easy for me either. I’m not in a rush to get my heart broken again.’

He noticed again the shadows under her eyes. Remembered her ex had got married yesterday. Typically, she wasn’t letting on about her pain. But it was there.

‘I can see that,’ he said.

He was glad the beach was practically deserted, with just a few people walking along the hard, damp sand at the edge of the waves, others still in the surf. Hobo romped with another dog in the shallows.

Her voice was low and intense. ‘Maybe if we gave it a go we’d...we’d burn it out.’

‘You think so?’ He couldn’t keep the cynicism from his voice.

She threw up her hands. ‘Who knows? After all this time we don’t really know what the other is like now. Grown-up Sandy. Grown-up Ben. We might hate each other.’

‘I can’t see that happening.’ Hate Sandy? No way. Never.

She scuffed the sand with her bare toes, not meeting his eyes. ‘How do you know? I like to put a positive spin on things when I can. But, fact is, I haven’t had a lot of luck with men. When I started dating—after I gave up on us seeing each other again—it seemed to me there were two types of men: nice ones, like you, who would ultimately betray me—’

He growled his protest.

She looked back up at him. ‘I know now it was a misunderstanding between us, but I didn’t know that then. If anyone betrayed me it was my father. By lying to me about you. By cheating on our family.’

He didn’t disagree. ‘And the second type of man?’

‘Forceful, controlling guys—’

‘Like your father?’

She nodded. ‘They’d convince me they knew what was best for me. I’d be in too deep before I realised they had anything but my interests at heart. But obviously I must have been at fault, too, when things went wrong.’

‘You’re too hard on yourself.’ He hated to see the tight expression on her face.

Her mouth twisted into an excuse of a smile. ‘Am I? Even little things about a person can get annoying. Jason used to hate that I never replaced the empty toilet roll. It was only because the fancy holder he installed ruined my nails when I tried, but—’

Ben couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘What kind of a loser was this guy?’

‘He wasn’t a loser. He was smart. Clever. It seemed I could be myself with him. I thought at last I’d found Mr Perfect. But that was one of the reasons he gave for falling out of love with me.’ She bit down hard on her lower lip. ‘And he said I was noisy and a show-off.’

Ben was so astounded he couldn’t find an appropriate response.

Her eyes flickered to his face and then away. ‘When I first knew him he said I lit up a room just by coming into it. Effervescent was the word he used. By the end he said I embarrassed him with my loud behaviour.’

Her voice was forcedly cheerful but there was a catch to it that tore at Ben.

‘But you don’t want to hear about that.’

Anger against this unknown man who had hurt Sandy fuelled him. ‘You’re damn right I don’t. It’s crap. That jerk was just saying that to make himself feel better about betraying you.’

She pulled a self-deprecating face. ‘I tell myself that too. It made me self-conscious around people for a while—you know...the noisy show-off thing. I couldn’t help wondering if people were willing me to shut up but were too polite to say so. But...but I’ve put it behind me.’

With his index finger he tilted her face upwards. ‘Sandy. Look at me. I would never, ever think you were an embarrassing show-off. I never have and I never will. Okay? You’re friendly and warm and you put people at ease. That’s a gift.’

‘Nice of you to say so. Kind words are always welcome.’ Her voice made light of what she said.

‘And I would never give a damn about a toilet roll.’

Her mouth twitched. ‘It sounds so dumb when you say it out loud. A toilet roll.’ The twitch led to a smile and then to full-blown giggles. ‘What a stupid thing for a relationship to founder over.’

‘And what a moron he was to let it.’

Ben found himself laughing with her. It felt good. Again, like oil on those rusty, seized emotions he had thought would never be kick-started into life again.

‘I was just using the toilet roll as an example of how little things about a person can get annoying to someone else,’ she said. Her laughter died away. ‘After a few days of my company you might be glad to see the end of me.’

‘And vice-versa?’ The way he’d cut himself off from relationships, she was more likely to get the worst end of the bargain. He was out of the habit of being a boyfriend.

She nodded. ‘Then we could both move on, free of...free of this thing that won’t let go of us. With...with the past washed clean.’

‘Maybe,’ he conceded.

She wanted to rekindle old embers to see if they burned again or fizzled away into lifeless ash. But what if they raged away like a bush fire out of control and he was the one left scorched and lifeless? Again.

She took hold of his arm. Her voice was underscored with urgency. ‘Ben, we should grab this second chance. Otherwise we might regret it for the rest of our lives. Like I regret that I didn’t trust in what we had. I should have come back to you to Dolphin Bay. I was eighteen years old, for heaven’s sake, not eight. What could my parents have done about it?’

‘I came looking for you in Sydney.’ He hadn’t meant to let that out. Had never intended to tell her.

Her brows rose. ‘When?’

‘A few months after you left.’

‘I didn’t know.’

‘You wouldn’t. My mates were playing football at Chatswood, on the north shore. I had my dad’s car to drive down with them.’ He’d been up from university for the Easter break. ‘After the game I found your place.’

‘The house in Killara?’

He nodded. It had been a big house in a posh northern suburb, designed to show off her father’s social status. ‘I parked outside, hoping I’d see you. Not sure what I’d do if I did.’

‘Why didn’t you come in?’

‘I was nineteen. You hadn’t written. Or phoned. For all I knew you’d forgotten all about me. And I knew your father wouldn’t welcome me.’

‘Was I there? I can’t believe while you were outside I might have been in my room. Probably sobbing into my diary about how much I was missing you.’

‘Your hat was hanging on the veranda. I could see it from outside. That funny, stripy bucket hat you used to wear.’

She screwed up her face. ‘I remember... I lost that hat.’

‘No, you didn’t. I took it. I jumped over the fence and snatched it.’

Her eyes widened. ‘You’re kidding me? My old hat? Do...do you still have it?’

‘Once I was back in the car my mates grabbed it from me. When we crossed the Sydney Harbour Bridge they threw it out of the window.’

‘Hey! That hat cost a whole lot of hard-earned babysitting money.’

She pretended outrage, but he could tell she was shaken by his story.

‘I didn’t steal it to see it squashed by a truck. I wanted to punch my mates out. But they told me to stop bothering with a girl who didn’t want me when there were plenty who did.’

Sandy didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she sighed. ‘Oh, Ben, if only...’ She shook her head. ‘I won’t say it. You’re right. No point.’

‘That’s when I gave up on you.’

He’d said enough. He could never admit that for years afterwards when he’d driven over that spot on the bridge he’d looked out for her hat.

‘And there were other girls?’ She put her hand up in her halt sign. ‘No. Don’t tell me about them. I couldn’t bear it.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I used to imagine all those blonde surfer chicks. Glad the city interloper was gone. Able to have their surf god all to themselves again.’