a disaster would have been kind. Forgetting that country shops weren’t open on Saturday afternoons, Ellie had made do with what she could find: baked beans and eleven eggs from the chicken coop. Matilda assured her that some would have been fresh that morning. But Ellie had been a city girl too long and had forgotten how to test which were fresh and which weren’t.
Matilda pressed a hand against her chest and laughed. “I’ve had a lot worse in my time.”
After promising to make it up with a feeding frenzy tomorrow, Ellie stood by while Matilda washed her face and brushed her teeth. She helped her hobble over to the toilet and left the room to give her some privacy. Then she came back to help her up and usher her into her room.
“There. Are you sure you’re comfortable?” she asked, sitting down gently on the edge of Mat’s bed.
“As comfy as I can be sharing a bed with this.” Matilda gestured again to the chunky plaster that went from her toes halfway up her calf.
Ellie knew Matilda’s jokes were her way of coping, of lightening the mood. She desperately wanted to snuggle up to Mat like they’d done when Ellie first arrived all those years ago. When she was a lonely, lost, washed-up teen, feeling totally abandoned by the one person who was supposed to love her. But tonight she thought Matilda might take her cuddles the wrong way, as sympathy for her injuries. And if there was one thing Mat hated, it was sympathy. So instead, Ellie patted her hand, kissed her on the cheek and stood.
“Shall I take my old room?”
Matilda cursed and a look of horror flashed across her face. “Oh, I’m a silly old fool.” She tried to hoist herself up.
“Sit,” Ellie ordered.
“I’ve been jabbering on all afternoon and you haven’t even had a chance to unpack or freshen up. About your room...” Matilda’s voice trailed off.
Ellie rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Matilda. She couldn’t resist another proper hug. “You are a silly old fool. I’m here to look after you and don’t you forget it.”
In the end, she lay on the bed until Matilda had fallen asleep, which wasn’t long at all. The house then seemed quiet without Mat’s endless chatter, and Ellie’s thoughts returned quickly to the one thing she’d been trying not to think about. While Lauren had launched right into the subject of Flynn Quartermaine, Matilda hadn’t mentioned him at all. Ellie thought the taboo might have been lifted now she was back in Hope Junction, but it seemed her godmother was leaving that conversation for her to start. And she would. Soon.
Thoughts of just how soon were interrupted as she pushed open the door of her old bedroom. Expecting Mat to have turned the room to other uses, she gasped aloud at the sight in front of her. The room was exactly how she’d left it. Exactly. Goose bumps erupted across her flesh.
Matilda had cleaned and dusted, but aside from that, everything was just as Ellie had left it on that fateful morning. Teenage posters, her collection of troll dolls with rainbow hair, scented candles, lots of photos, a pair of bright purple Dr. Martens and...
Forcing breath through her lungs and one foot in front of the other, Ellie stepped into the room and toward the single bed. Her eyes had already been drawn, like magnets, to the simple white wedding dress that lay draped across the mattress. She stared for a second, mesmerized, before scooping it up and sighing at the feel of soft silk between her fingers. She clutched the A-line gown to her chest as if it were a long-lost teddy bear. Her thoughts immediately traveled back a decade, to a day in Perth when she’d felt like the poster child for happiness.
Marrying Flynn was any girl’s fantasy, and she’d wanted to be his fantasy when he watched her walk down the aisle. Silly, really, but she’d spent hours daydreaming about the expression on his face when he’d see her. She’d loved him so much. So much it made her chest ache if she thought about losing him. Her insides whirled like a roller coaster whenever she even thought about kissing him. And so, when she’d walked past that boutique and seen the most elegant wedding dress with a 50 percent off tag, she’d thought it was fate.
And she’d been euphoric.
The shop had been about to close but she’d dragged in Tegan, her then best friend, and Matilda, and sweet-talked the assistant into letting her try on the dress. When she did, she never wanted to take it off again. It was simply perfect. No need for alterations at all. With Ellie protesting that she’d pay for it, Matilda had handed over her American Express card and someone managed to convince Ellie to take the dress off so the assistant could box it.
A tear dribbled down Ellie’s cheek at the memory. At the thought that she’d once been so sky-high happy.
Thinking she was probably crazy but unable to help herself, Ellie laid her fantasy gown back on the bed and stripped to her mismatched underwear. She wondered if the dress would still fit but, if anything, it was a little on the large side. With great effort she wrangled the tiny pearl buttons at her back and managed to do up every last one of them. She twisted to look in the mirror.
What a sight. Her face was stained red with tears and her hair flat from the cap that had trapped it all day long. She didn’t look like a bride any groom would get choked up over. She looked scary. But despite her appearance, Ellie didn’t look away or remove the dress. She shuddered at the idea of becoming Miss Havisham, but even that miserable vision didn’t spur her to remove it. After a while of standing like this, her eyes caught on something reflected in the mirror. Photo frames littered the old wooden tallboy behind her—most of them sickly sweet heart shapes containing pictures of her and Flynn.
She turned and snatched up a photo. A chill raced up her spine. She sank onto the bed, clutching Flynn’s image tightly in her hands. He was gorgeous. A heartthrob, sex on legs, a devil in denim and dangerously, deliciously beautiful. His all-Australian country-boy grin lit up his whole face, and the gleam in his sea-green eyes spoke volumes about the kind of fun-loving, hardworking bloke he always was.
She’d tried to forget. In the name of self-preservation, she’d not taken even one tiny wallet photo when she left. She’d not allowed herself to think about the life they would have started together—the perfect house they were planning to build on Black Stump, the babies they’d dreamed of having... But now she realized how monumentally she’d failed. She may have repressed the memories but she hadn’t erased them. Looking at him now, tracing his eyes, his nose, his lips with her quaking fingers brought it all rushing back. The intensity of first love, first passion. How he had loved her so completely and stood up for her at every turn. Romeo and Juliet had nothing on Flynn and Ellie. Hope Junction had been up in arms when their golden boy—son of third-generation landowners—had started going out with her. Not only did she not come from farming stock, but her mother had dumped her and her father hadn’t even stuck around long enough to see her born. Thankfully, the teenage Flynn had already developed both backbone and morals. He didn’t give a damn what the town thought. He saw past her situation to the real Ellie, and before long his dedication won over his parents and the rest of the town, too. Pretty soon Ellie was loved and accepted as if she were a fourth-generation local as well, and that was no easy feat. When Flynn had asked her to marry him, everyone was genuinely ecstatic. The only comments about them being too young came from girls Ellie’s age and she wrote off their gibes as simple jealousy.
“Oh, Flynn.” Sniffing, she looked down at the photo and tried to push away the millions of what-ifs that floated into her mind. What if things had been different? What if her mother had never asked to meet her in Perth? What if, for once, she’d put her own needs first and said no? What if Flynn had come with her to Perth as he’d said he would? What if she’d stayed and married him anyway? Would they be happy now? Would
