Only We Know (12 page)

Sam looked like a cornered man. He glanced at the warm smile of the shop assistant and then cast a sideways glance at Calla as he pulled out his wallet. ‘What she said. I'll take one of everything.'

‘That's so kind of you,' the older woman murmured, a little aflutter. ‘I'll pop out the back and get you a box to carry it all in.'

When they were alone among the crafts, Calla flashed him an oversized smile. ‘I think you've just made her day,
husband
.'

Sam took a step closer to her. ‘I think you could be right,
wife
.'

Calla fiddled with her purchase, checked the mirror again to see how it looked. It seemed like the perfect souvenir. ‘I'm going to buy this. It's beautifully made. And as warm as toast.'

‘You should,' Sam said, close behind her.

When Calla looked into the mirror again, she could see Sam's reflection. He was staring into the mirror but he wasn't checking himself out. He was looking at her, specifically at her mouth. She swallowed, felt that surge of hormones again. She straightened up and took a step backwards from the mirror, which meant she bumped right into him. He reacted quickly, his hands on her shoulders. She could feel his body pressed up against her, his breath in her hair. When she looked in the mirror again, their heads were cut off in the reflection and all she could see were their bodies close and together. His big hands on her shoulders, her back pressed against his chest. Her heart started to thump wildly in her chest and she moved sideways, hoping he hadn't felt it.

‘Let's pay for these things,' she managed to say. ‘We've got to get going, right?'

‘Yeah,' Sam said, reaching for his wallet.

They waited together at the cash register as the old woman tallied up their purchases. Sam had tried to pay her for the knitted cap, but Calla had steadfastly refused. Once all the jars of jams and pickles were packed into a box, they said their goodbyes to the very grateful shop assistant, and turned towards the front door. Calla wore her new beanie at a jaunty angle. The jam jars tinkled against each other with every step Sam took. A metre from the door, he stopped abruptly.

Calla walked into the back of him. ‘You've really got to stop doing that,' she warned as she braced her hands on his back.

Sam didn't answer for a moment. He was looking at a painting on the wall. She heard an explosive exhalation from his lips.

‘Well, fuck me,' he murmured.

‘What?'

He took a step closer to the painting, leant in. ‘That's my old man.'

Calla moved next to him, had to get closer to it to see the detail in the painting. It was small, eight by ten, in oil, of an old man's face. A shock of grey hair, huge brown eyes with wrinkles in the corners. He had full lips and the beginnings of a white beard. She blinked. The man in the picture could be Sam in forty years.

‘Wow.' She looked from the painting to Sam. ‘You look like him.'

Sam paused a moment. ‘So they say.'

‘It's a beautiful work.' She looked closer, admired the depth and texture of the strokes, the way the artist had smoothed and jagged the paint so you wanted to touch the contours. And that's when Calla saw it. In the bottom right-hand corner.

‘Well, fuck me,' she whispered.

Sam turned his head to her. His arm brushed against her shoulder. ‘What?'

‘Look at the name. My brother painted this.'

CHAPTER

16

Calla stood on the road out front of the shop. She was trying to breathe in the cool, fresh air and calm the percussion of her heart pounding in her chest. This trip was making her head spin in a million different directions.

She'd found Jem.

Excellent. That plan she had to find her brother, simplify her life and pull her family back together? It was all happening now, just as she'd wanted it to. So why did she feel shaky all of a sudden? She yanked off her new hat, feeling mysteriously hot in the chill wind.

The door to the shop closed with a bang behind her, echoing in the wide and empty street. Then there were footsteps, long strides along the cement path and onto the bitumen road.

‘Looks like you've found him,' Sam said.

Calla took a deep breath.

‘Tell me this, Sam. What are the chances of there being
two
J. Maloneys in this world and, specifically, on this island?'

He watched her for a moment, that little crease at the top of his nose appearing again as his brow furrowed. ‘I don't remember any Maloneys around here when I was growing up. I know what you city people think about how small KI is, but it's a myth that we know everyone. And I haven't lived here for a really long time. A lot of artists come here to live and paint.'

Calla shoved her hands in the pockets of her coat and started walking down the street towards the cliffs.

‘Wait. Where are you going?'

She stopped. Turned back, shook her head furiously. ‘I have no idea. But I need to walk. It helps me think.'

‘Don't go far. Just wait.' While she paced, Sam stashed the box of jams and preserves in the back seat of his four-wheel drive, slammed the door shut and strode back inside the shop.

Calla's racing heart matched her quick footsteps on the bitumen road. She pulled her phone from the front pocket of her jeans. She had to call her sister.

What on earth was she going to say?

Hi Rose. There's good news and bad news. My car's totalled and I'm stranded. But, on the other hand, I'm closer to finding Jem. And I'm in accidental possession of a handsome firefighter.

‘Hey, Cal.' Her sister's voice was a warm welcome in the chill air.

‘Hey, Rose.'

‘How's Kangaroo Island?'

Calla took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed. ‘I have some news.'

‘Tell me, tell me, tell me. What is it?'

Calla waited a beat, made sure she breathed first. ‘I think I've found Jem.'

‘Bloody hell, that didn't take long.'

‘No. I mean, I still have some stuff to figure out, but —'

‘Where is he? Where are you?'

‘I'm still in Penneshaw. Listen … I need to bring you up to speed about a few things that have happened over here.'

‘That sounds intriguing. Tell me.'

‘I kind of ran into someone.'

‘Someone we know? Who is it?'

‘No, I mean in my car. I ran into someone.'

‘Oh crap, Calla. What — Where — How — Are you okay?'

‘I don't want you to worry. I'm completely fine. It was a minor bingle. But my car isn't so fine.'

‘Calla, I'm getting a bad feeling about this. You sound weird.'

‘Everything's good. Really.' Calla dropped her voice. ‘The guy I ran into? He's helping me out.'

‘Really? He's not pissed off at you?'

‘No, he's not. Look, it's complicated and I'll explain everything when I get back to Adelaide.'

‘This guy? What's his name?' Rose asked.

‘Sam.'

‘Yeah?'

Calla froze. That wasn't Rosie's voice in her ear. It was Sam's and he was right next to her.

She cleared her throat, covered her mobile with the palm of her hand. ‘I'm talking to my sister.'

‘Okay.' She couldn't see the expression in his eyes because they were hidden behind his sunglasses but there was humour in his voice that gave him away.

‘Rose? I've got to go. I'll call you later.'

Calla ended the call. She shoved her phone in the pocket of her jeans. So he probably guessed that she'd been talking about him. She tried to find a smile that didn't look like an embarrassed one.

‘Sorry if I interrupted something,' he said.

‘No. No, you didn't. Just checking in.'

As Calla spoke, she noticed Sam had something tucked under his arm, a rectangular parcel wrapped in newspaper. She pointed to it. ‘What's that?'

‘I bought it.'

‘You bought the painting?'

Sam nodded, then looked off into the distance. ‘Your brother's good. It's my old man in that painting, clear as day. You can feel the stubbornness leaping right out of the frame.'

Calla's shoulders slumped. ‘You bought the painting.'

‘Yep. And before you ask, the woman in the shop doesn't have a number for your brother. Doesn't know him. Barb's only filling in while her friend Joan has an operation over in Adelaide. A hip replacement, apparently, and her sons don't visit her and Cath is looking after her dog and is worried that it's fretting without Joan.'

‘You got all that in two minutes?'

Sam shrugged and, damn, there was that sexy grin again. It obviously got him whatever he wanted. ‘What can I say?'

Calla rolled her eyes.

‘Barb suggested we come back tomorrow when her friend Pam is working. Pam knows everything about everyone on the island, apparently.'

‘Hold the phone. What's with the “we”?' Calla shook her head. There was no ‘we'. There was her. And him. And one car and a boat between her and the mainland.

‘Settle down. She thinks we're married, remember?' And there it was again. There
was
laughter in that voice. She wanted to smack him.

‘Right.' Calla couldn't believe it. So far on this trip, she'd lost her lunch and her car but had apparently found a husband and now, maybe even her brother.

‘So,' Sam said.

‘So, what?'

‘So, what now?'

‘Now?' Calla huffed. ‘First of all, I'd really appreciate that lift back to the cabin so I can pack up. Second of all, I have to figure out what the hell to do with my car. And third of all, and most importantly, I need to get a ticket on the next boat back to the mainland. Where is the SeaLink office?'

‘Wait a minute,' Sam said, frustration instead of laughter dripping from his words now. He lifted his sunglasses, propped them on top of his unruly dark hair and trained his eyes on her with military precision. ‘You still want to go back to Adelaide? After what we've just discovered?'

‘I don't think I have any other choice, do you?'

Yeah, he obviously did.

‘You don't want to hang around and maybe check back here again tomorrow? See if anyone knows where Jem is?'

‘While that may sound like a good plan to you, it's not to me. I'm screwed, Sam. Without a car, there's no way I can go investigating on the island. I'm bussin' it back to Adelaide. I'll have to come back some other time.'

He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘I don't think so.' There was a hint of arrogance in his words, in the way he, once again, was trying to tell her what to do, and she prickled. She hadn't convinced him to butt out of her business, after all. Goodbye, Mr Nice Guy. Farewell, Mr White Knight. Hello, Arrogant Arsehole. Hello, Mr It's My Way Or The Highway.

‘Oh no, Sam. No way. I know you think you can, but you can't.'

‘Can't what?'

‘Tell me what to do,' Calla bit back. ‘I know what it must be like for you. You just snap your fingers and people do exactly what you say. You're tall and handsome and you rescue people for a living and the ones you save, especially the women, must be so incredibly swoony and grateful when you do the hero thing.'

‘Oh sure, that's the story of my life right there.' She saw the tension in his clenched jaw and heard the anger flare in his words.

‘The hero thing won't work on me, Sam Hunter. I'm totally immune to your charms.'

‘My charms?' When he took a step closer, Calla took a step back. ‘You think I'm trying to
charm
you?'

‘Well. Aren't you?'

‘You think that I … believe me, the last thing I want is …' He stopped, clamped his lips shut and glared at her.

‘Is what, Sam?'

He breathed deep and held her gaze. She stared right back at him until her eyes stung and she had to blink.

‘All I'm saying, Calla … All I'm suggesting to you … is that I think you'll regret going home right now, when you're this close.'

He was right. She was close. And it had been easy up to this point, because in the back of her mind she'd always figured she might never actually find Jem. Now, it was about to get hard and Sam had called her on it. He'd seen through her and picked her reluctance for what it was. She was scared shitless.

‘Sam …'

He took a deep breath and his eyes softened. ‘Look, Calla. I really think you should come with me.'

‘Go with you where?'

‘Think about it. My old man clearly knows your brother. I think we should start with him. Why don't we ask Charlie what he knows about Jem?'

Calla backed away from him, shaking her head with an insistent rhythm. ‘No, I don't think so.'

‘You know I'm heading there anyway.' He took a step forward. ‘I should have been there yesterday, as you well know. But I've been a little distracted.'

‘Sam, I'm sorry you got caught up with me. I've appreciated all the help, I really have, but you obviously have, quote unquote, family shit to take care of and I don't want to get in the middle of that. Or get you involved in mine, frankly.' Calla turned away from him. She didn't like the look he was giving her and the way it was making her feel. Like a chicken, to be precise. Like a coward.

She looked ahead at hills the colour of ripe apples, lush in the distance. A car drove by them, heading towards the pub, and then turned left and disappeared. Calla wondered if anyone actually lived in this place. It felt so empty, so quiet. Spookily so. She felt relieved with her decision to leave it behind.

She was also relieved at Sam's silence. He hadn't moved, but she knew he was still there, those dark eyes staring at the back of her head. He'd clearly realised he'd overstepped the boundaries, pushed too far, issued invitations to her that weren't really sincere, just politeness to a stranded stranger all at sea across the sea. She summoned the courage to turn back to him, and he was looking at her curiously, as if she were a piece in the jigsaw puzzle of a flat-pack wardrobe and he couldn't figure out where to put her. ‘Do you want to find your brother or not?'