Home for June

CHAPTER ONE

It was time for Hannah Delaney to do what she’d promised herself exactly one year ago. No, she was not getting a new hair colour, joining the gym, taking up embroidery, or getting a tattoo. She was leaving Tarrin’s Bay—for good.

She’d tried. She’d persisted. She’d waited. But things were exactly the same one year on, though the pain of the breakup was less now. When her friends (and boyfriend) had moved on to greater, grander places, with bright lights and hustle and bustle, she had stayed put, like she always did. Kept busy, like she always did. And looked after everyone else’s needs before her own, like she always did. But if things were to change, and she was to experience her full potential, she had to change. Starting now. June the first.

Hannah called her friend in Sydney to confirm acceptance of her offer, then made a quick call to the real-estate agent to book an appointment, before stepping out onto the wide, north-west facing verandah. She breathed in the rich, lush air, both salty and sweet from the combination of ocean and farmland. It awakened her airways, nourished her lungs, and comforted her soul. The only bright lights she really craved were those of the morning sun reaching through the trees towards the land, and the moon lighting up a clear night sky. And the only hustle and bustle she loved was the hurried but seemingly aimless wanderings of the chickens around her feet when she tended to them. She loved the coastal farm she’d grown up on that was now her own. But as much as home held a place in her heart, it also held her back from moving forward… to discovering life for herself, not one that was expected of her, or that she felt obligated to continue living.

‘Eight years,’ Hannah said with a sigh. She stepped off the verandah and onto the slightly overgrown grass she hadn’t gotten around to mowing. Despite the natural slowdown of winter, the soil was rich, and the grass had always been healthy and full of life. She crouched and threaded her fingers between the crisp, cool strands. ‘Eight years of doing this on my own… mostly.’ She glanced backwards at Scarlett, her border collie who was comfortably flopped in her favourite spot on the weathered verandah, beside the white wicker armchair, eyes squinting in the low afternoon sun. Hannah stepped onto the verandah and crouched again, this time in front of Scarlett, threading her fingers between the orangey-red and white strands of hair. ‘Having a nice rest, Scar?’ She stroked the top of her dog’s head, a slight waxiness gliding onto her palm. ‘How about a pampering bath tomorrow, huh?’ She tickled behind the animal’s ears. ‘Maybe even with extra bubbles.’

Hannah’s parents had adopted the dog from the animal shelter fifteen years ago, partly to give her a home, and partly to tempt a young Hannah to stay on at the farm instead of moving closer to the city like her friends. It had worked, but the truth was she hadn’t felt truly confident to forge an independent life for herself back then… not at twenty, but now, at thirty-five, it was definitely time for a long-overdue change.

She stood and placed her hands on her hips, surveying the property with scanning eyes like a lighthouse on guard beside the ocean. The willow tree in the distance swayed gently in the breeze, the chickens hustled and bustled in the right-side paddock, and the red ride-on mower inside the open shed glared at her with the arched panels above its front lights, reminding her of her neglect. She’d had her parents help for a while after they moved into a low-maintenance but independent retirement village, or ‘Senior Land’, as her comedian father called it. But after his heart attack and her mother’s increasing anxiety, easy living was the doctor’s prescription. And there was Nathan, the general all-rounder who helped out when needed, for a price, but things had become awkward over the past year after she’d developed a minor rebound-crush on him, and he’d rejected her. Too much baggage to recognise something good in front of him, her parents had agreed. They had seemed more distraught than she was, originally considering him as the perfect partner option to share her life with on the farm.

And Samuel had helped out before that, with a few things here and there whenever he stayed with her, as any good boyfriend would do, until he figured out that he’d rather keep his eye on the stock market than the stock, returning to the city to focus on his finance career.

The glare of the ride-on mower intensified. ‘Okay, okay.’ She hopped on and when the engine growled to life, she took off, and the fresh scent of coumarins releasing from the grass trailed behind her. She did a one-eighty and the breeze picked up, pushing her hair onto her face and masking her view. ‘Damn it.’ She slowed to a stop and pulled off the elastic from around her wrist, sliding it over her hair and making a short ponytail at the nape of her neck. ‘Knew I should have kept it short.’ She puffed a few rogue, blonde strands from her face as she continued riding.

The property should sell for a decent price, she hoped. It had a distant sliver of an ocean view, and was in a prime location not too far from town but isolated enough to be private and serene. She would want a high-enough offer to make it worthwhile selling. If not for her, then her parents, who had lovingly restored the old farmhouse over the years into the elegant, subtle beauty that ‘Iona’ was today. The real-estate agent would probably advise on an auction, but she would discuss the options with her tomorrow. A place like this required a commitment, and she hoped someone willing and worthy would take over the reins.

When she had finished weaving back and forth across the yard, she returned the mower to the shed and went back inside to check her phone.

Did you make a decision?

A text from her mother said on the screen.

A twinge of guilt twisted inside, but was soon replaced with a sense of purpose.

Yes, I did. Estate agent is squeezing me in early tomorrow to discuss. Time for a fresh start, Mum.

Her heart beat a little faster as bouncy dots appeared on the screen, disappeared, then reappeared, eventually transforming into words:

It’s ok, darling. I understand. What time do you want me to come over and help get the place spick and span?

Hannah smiled. Of course her mother would want to help prepare the house for inspection, but it was also her way of avoiding difficult emotions. Cleaning, organising, being useful… Hmm, a bit like what Hannah tended to do herself, while her father responded to everything with humour.

Let me make a list and a plan of attack first, then I’ll be better equipped to give you your instructions ;) So how about midday, discuss over lunch and then get to work?

Perfect.

Every task came with a written plan for Hannah. Farm work was automatic and second nature, but everything else benefited from her expertise in organising. It was why she was also a trusted part-time events manager in and around town, planning and running important occasions including weddings, corporate retreats, product launches, and the like.

When the familiar surge of ideas and options rose up in her mind, she became energised. Not only would she enjoy giving the place a bit of oomph to get the best price, she would enjoy the anticipation of her potential exciting new job at the large events company her friend worked as a PA for. Karen had also offered her a room for rent in her Sydney house for as long as was required. The bonus was it had a small backyard that would suit Scarlett. Not that she needed much space these days, preferring to sit quietly in the sun in her old age. But her dog had grown up in the outdoors, so keeping her inside wasn’t an option.

Hannah brewed a cup of lemon myrtle tea with leaves freshly picked from her own tree and sat on a chair at the kitchen table. She opened Facebook and posted:

The time has come for this bird to leave the nest. Sydney here I come!

Within minutes comments appeared, one friend saying ‘Finally, yay!’ and another saying ‘What??’ Everyone would find out the details soon enough, but until she had a confirmed job she would only reveal she was simply moving out to start anew.

She scrolled through Facebook without really reading anything, until a photo caught her eye. One of her Tarrin’s Bay friends, who ran a market stall of handmade baby clothing near to where Hannah sold her eggs, had posted a selfie in her running gear, saying:

It’s been a while but I’m back in the game! My legs are killing me

She was always posting selfies, but it was the background that had attracted Hannah’s attention. She clicked on the photo and zoomed in, zeroing in on a person standing by the harbour, hand sheltering his eyes from the sun, but the familiarity of his face unmistakable, even twenty years later.

Luca Antonescu.

‘Oh my God,’ Hannah said. ‘What’s he doing here?’

He could be on holiday, or visiting someone. Or he could be back, as in really back.

She looked at his face a little longer than was probably appropriate, but she hadn’t seen him in so long. Not since the night of the Year Ten school formal when he’d left early, and she’d later found out his father had died.

She’d only known him two years. But those memories stuck like glue in every cell in her body. They’d been friends, worked on some school projects together, and hung out sometimes with mutual friends. But he never knew just how much she had yearned for him.

And when her long-awaited intent to ask him to the school formal had failed when another girl had beaten her to it, she’d vowed never to let feelings like that take hold of her that strongly again. Especially after he’d left town and all opportunities had left with him.

She’d moved on, and so had he.

Or so she thought.

CHAPTER TWO

‘M um, why are you late?’ Hannah stepped aside. Her mother entered the house and glanced at her watch.

‘Eleven fifty-nine, darling,’ she said, plonking her handbag on the kitchen island bench with a chuckle. ‘One minute to go. Not too bad.’ Kathleen Delaney was always ten minutes early for everything.

‘Ooh, I don’t know, Mum, this might really throw out my plans for today.’ She winked.

Her mother pecked her on the cheek then glanced around the kitchen and living area, placing her hands on her hips, a trait Hannah had inherited whenever strategic planning was required… there must be some special connection between the planning part of the brain and the hips, her mum used to say.

‘Don’t worry, Mum, I’ve done the hip thing and the results are right here.’ She tapped a sheet of paper that lay on the island bench.

‘So everything we need to do is on that one piece of paper? Your skills have become even more efficient. I remember when you used to carry around spiral-bound planners with different-coloured sections and all sorts of fancy stuff.’

Hannah smiled. ‘I still do that for some events, and this paper is only a summary of what I typed up into my spreadsheet.’

‘Ah, okay,’ she said. ‘So give me the rundown.’

Hannah held up the sheet of paper and pointed. ‘Number one on the list…’

Kathleen took it from her daughter and smiled. ‘Large print, don’t even need my glasses. You know me too well.’

‘All part of the service.’

‘Lunch first? Shouldn’t we get stuck in and then take a break for a late lunch?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘We can discuss things while we eat. Save time.’ She opened the fridge and withdrew last night’s vegetable soup, still in the saucepan.

‘You should freeze that, make some handy quick meals when you’ve had a long day.’

‘Already did, but there’s just enough left in here for two.’ She smiled and placed it on the stove, then ignited the gas hotplate. She then popped two pieces of organic sourdough bread in the toaster.

‘You could always try running a cafe or restaurant.’ Kathleen slid open a drawer and took out two placemats, placing them on the nearby dining table. ‘Put your good home cooking and friendly service to use.’

Hannah laughed. ‘Meal preparation for two or three people is a lot less work than for a whole room full of hungry, fussy patrons,’ she said. ‘Anyway, it’s nothing special, just the basics. I haven’t strayed from my usual choice of recipes in… forever. Whatever is easy; tried and tested works for me.’

‘Well, maybe it’s time to try and test something new. Just for a change.’

Hannah shrugged, and the enormity of what she was preparing for shook the sheet of paper slightly as she picked it up and looked at it, even though she had practically memorised it. The sensation surprised her.

‘I know, darling,’ Kathleen sidled up next to her. ‘Moving away will be enough of a change for you. You’re absolutely sure it feels right for you?’

Hannah nodded. ‘Had a year to think on it.’

‘Of course.’ Kathleen collected two spoons from the cutlery drawer, turning her back for a moment.

Hannah tipped a small amount of locally made extra virgin olive oil into a dipping bowl, adding a splash of balsamic vinegar. A few drops stained the benchtop and she wiped them away with a tissue. Oh, how many spills and meals this timber island bench had seen over the years…

Iona was part of the family, but it wasn’t like it had been in the family for generations or anything. That’s what Hannah had told herself. It could have led to that, decades down the track, if she had decided to stay and eventually have a family of her own. But there was only her, and her life was stagnant and needed some forward movement, some spice. Some newness.

‘Mum,’ Hannah said, as her mother placed the spoons on the table. ‘I know you were only nine minutes late, but even so, there was a reason, wasn’t there. I can tell.’

Kathleen sighed and lowered her gaze. ‘As I was leaving, your father asked me if you thought you might reconsider selling.’

Hannah’s insides clenched a little.

‘Don’t worry.’ Her mother approached and placed her hand on her daughter’s forearm. ‘I reassured him it was for the best, and he agreed. It’ll just take a bit of getting used to. You do what you need to do, it’s your life and we support you in whatever you choose.’

Hannah glanced up at the pendant lights overhanging the island bench. ‘We could still keep it. The agent is just sorting out the details and market comparisons over the next few days before listing it. We could rent it out, or make it holiday accommodation, something like that. Even for a year or two while I try out new opportunities in Sydney, then if I don’t like it I could still come back, maybe?’

Kathleen shook her head. ‘Too much uncertainty and hesitation. And it would still be a lot to manage behind the scenes, and you won’t find many people interested in renting a place like this, it requires a⁠—’

‘Commitment, yes I know. You’re right. It’s all or nothing.’

‘And you’ve given it your all. We’re proud of you.’ She held Hannah’s arms in a gentle show of support.

‘Thanks, Mum. It might be a while before anyone sees it anyway, give us some time to get used to the change. Not everyone wants to run a small farm with five hundred chickens!’ She laughed and ladled the soup into bowls. ‘Let’s eat.’

Hannah’s phone rang, and as she answered and spoke, her mother asked with her eyes what the other person on the line was saying.

‘Well,’ Hannah said after ending the call, ‘the agent already has potential interest.’

‘Already?’

Hannah nodded. ‘They’re coming on Monday to have a preview, as she calls it. Before it’s officially on the market. And the agent is popping by after work today to have a quick look, though she’s already seen the photos I had prepared and sent earlier.’

‘That’s only two days away.’ Kathleen stood. ‘No chance of changing it to Tuesday, or Wednesday at least?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘The buyer is seeing other properties. And, oh! I forgot to tell you, on Tuesday I’ll be in the city for a job interview with Karen’s boss.’ Karen had emailed her the details last night and Hannah had confirmed the time that she could come in.

‘That’s quick. I mean, that’s great! Okay. Right. Well…’ She did the hands-on-hips thing again. ‘We’d better get cracking.’

‘We’d better.’

Kathleen picked up the sheet of paper and pointed. ‘After we complete item number one on the agenda.’ She placed a smile on her face and ushered Hannah to a chair at the table.

This was it. It was all happening. And a lot faster than she imagined.

CHAPTER THREE

Scarlett smiled her doggie smile as Hannah stroked her pet’s smooth, silky, freshly washed hair. The promised bath with extra bubbles had been delayed a day and a half as Hannah and her mother had been busy cleaning and tidying the house. Her father had come over the day before also to help with the yard, pretending to move in ultra-slow motion whenever Kathleen watched him to check he wasn’t overdoing it. Hannah had giggled, just like she always did whenever he did things like that.

‘A couple of visitors coming today, Scar. Just so you know.’ She always talked to her dog like she was a person. She’d become not only part of the family, but a best friend to Hannah from day one, as her other friends gradually moved away. She would come home and sit on the armchair on the verandah, Scarlett at her feet, and tell her all about what was going on in her life… from her studies in business management and event planning, to how many eggs the chickens were laying, to the injustice about the lack of nightlife in town for twenty-somethings, and to romance and sometimes the lack thereof. Scarlett knew everything. At least, that’s what it felt like to Hannah. She wasn’t yet sure how to tell her they would be moving. Not that she would really understand, but still. She wasn’t quite there yet.

Hannah left Scarlett on the verandah and went inside to double check everything. She washed her hands and put on some naturally scented hand cream. She checked her reflection in the mirror and bared her teeth. Then she laughed. It was like she was going on a date, but she wasn’t, and she couldn’t really care less about how she looked but she did want to give a good overall impression, in every possible way. She would greet the real estate agent and potential buyer, then make herself scarce on the verandah to let them look around in peace, but still be available for any questions about the running of the property. She hoped it would be a family with a couple of kids. There were four bedrooms and plenty of living space, not to mention the ample space outdoors for playing, climbing trees, kicking a ball around, and making mud cakes… all things Hannah had done herself as a child.

Pebbles crunched and crackled outside and she went to the front door, opening it and placing the stuffed fabric-hen doorstopper her grandmother had made in front of it. Hannah waited there casually, or trying to be casual; one hand in her pocket, the other resting against the doorframe. The trousered legs of Lily Symons stepped out of the white Lexus sedan, which would probably need a minor wash after the trip down the initial dirt driveway to the property, before it reached the pebbled circular area in front of the house. She smiled and waved as she walked across, expertly handling the inconsistent surface of the pebbles in her high heels. Hannah would probably have fallen over by now. She only ever wore work boots, rubber thongs, bare feet, or thick, sturdy, low heels when she had to attend a professional event or important social gathering.

‘Hi, Lily.’ Hannah held an outstretched hand.

‘Hannah, good to see you again.’ She clasped Hannah’s hand and gave it a single shake. ‘I trust you got a lot of preparation done since Saturday’s visit?’

Hannah nodded. ‘All the essentials at least. Though I didn’t have time to bake any bread or cookies.’

Lily chuckled and flicked her hand in the air. ‘Not to worry, it’s always a nice, welcoming scent but I think this place will sell itself. It’s unique.’

‘It is.’ Hannah’s eyes fell on one of the white timber posts framing the entry up to the front steps, the etchings of her name still visible under the new coat of paint. She couldn’t remember how old she’d been, but it was about waist height, and she had been learning to write and spell. ‘What are you doing?’ her mother had asked. ‘I can spell my name proppaly now, Mummy,’ she’d replied. Her mum had shaken her head and smiled, bending down and then adding a heart shape around her name. ‘Shh,’ she’d said. ‘Don’t tell your father.’ Hannah had giggled and covered her mouth.

Lost in her memory, she didn’t take notice of the approaching car until it parked next to Lily’s.

‘Ah, here he is,’ said Lily, stepping off the front verandah steps.

The man stepped out of the old Toyota Corolla, and turned to walk towards the house. Hannah’s heart doubled over. The man stopped, his eyes widening. She gripped the doorframe where her name had been carved, and tried to dampen down her automatic bodily responses by taking a quick, deep, breath. ‘Luca?’

‘Hannah?’

He walked closer, and with each step she took in more detail of his face, older but even more handsome, his eyes still embodying an intense depth that looked right into her.

‘Oh, you two know each other?’ Lily said. But their eyes remained on each other.

‘You’re still living here?’ he asked.

Hannah held her arms out wide. ‘Home sweet home,’ she said. ‘Well, not for much longer.’

He stopped at the base of the steps while Hannah stood at the top. His presence, all these years later, was like opening an old box of memories, the smell of history taking her breath away.

‘Your parents?’ he said. ‘Are they…’

‘Alive and kicking, but in a low-maintenance place.’

‘Glad to hear it,’ he replied.

She didn’t want to ask about his, already knowing about his father, but hoped