if she lives to see tomorrow,” snorted Matilda.
Flynn had angled the journalists out of earshot and was speaking sternly to Lucy. Ellie couldn’t bear Flynn suffering this invasive attention and Lucy getting into trouble when she was probably tricked into revealing their whereabouts. Neither of them had asked for this. They weren’t the ones with a home on prime-time television. They weren’t the ones who’d run away.
Checking the brakes were secure on the wheelchair, Ellie sucked in a deep breath and marched forward. “I’ll give an interview,” she said, holding up her hands to the two members of the media. They spun around, eyes lighting when they saw her. Immediately the camera flashed. Dwayne would kill her for talking to the press before consulting him, but... “Only if you promise to leave Flynn and his sister out of it.”
As she spoke, Flynn turned to face the group and their eyes met. For a tormenting second she saw something there apart from anger. Was it regret? He quickly tugged the brim of his Akubra down to cover his eyes and whispered something to Lucy. Ellie could see the teenager was close to tears, but she nodded and ran into the hall.
“Don’t contact me again,” called Flynn as he headed back to his ute. Ellie wasn’t sure whether he was speaking to the journalists or her. Probably both. The ute started and its engine revved. Flynn did a three-point turn and sped off in the direction of his farm, leaving nothing but a blur of red dust.
Ellie addressed the eager journalists. “I’m going to take my godmother into the hall and then I’ll be back.”
“We’ll be waiting,” replied the woman.
I’ll bet.
“You want me to stay with you?” asked Matilda as Ellie took hold of the wheelchair once again.
“Nope, you go inside and get everyone focused on the auditions instead of on Flynn and me. This is embarrassing.”
“It’s not your fault,” said Matilda firmly.
Ellie shrugged. “They’re just doing their job. If I speak to them, hopefully they’ll go away, or at least leave Flynn alone.” For a moment she wondered if Dwayne had been right. Maybe she should have stayed in Sydney and simply ensured Matilda had competent hired help.
“Vultures,” Matilda spit as Ellie wheeled her past the journalists. They jumped back as if they’d been slapped.
As they entered the hall, Ellie was all too aware that the conversation dimmed. Some people stared while others looked pointedly away. She didn’t know which was worse. She pushed Matilda in the direction of Mrs. Ellery, who was holding a clipboard and waving one arm as she chatted to a couple of people near the stage.
Mrs. Ellery’s eyes lit up when they caught sight of Ellie. “Elenora!” She thrust the clipboard on the woman next to her and held out her arms. “My star pupil. Have you come to join the group?”
Ellie allowed a quick hug, although she couldn’t relax in the other woman’s embrace. Nothing about being in this town felt right anymore. She couldn’t forget that Eileen’s opinion of her was the minority one. “No,” she answered, extracting herself. “I’ve got some...um...things I need to attend to. Can I leave Matilda in your hands?”
“Of course, my dear,” Mrs. Ellery gushed. “We’re so glad you brought Mat along. The group wouldn’t be the same without her.”
As Mrs. Ellery stooped to consult Matilda about the program for the day, Ellie slipped back outside. It was too much to hope the journalists had grown bored and left. Sure enough, they were waiting to pounce the second she exited the building. Ellie made a silent vow to keep control and make sure she led the interview. She addressed the two as one. “Let’s go down to the park and talk. I haven’t got long.”
As they trotted down the road, the short and stumpy woman tried to make friends with Ellie, chatting about her character on Lake Street and how devastated she’d been to hear Stella was taking a break.
“You will be back, though, won’t you?” asked the journo-fan. “After your godmother has recovered, that is?”
“The interview will start at the park,” answered Ellie.
That shut her up. She knew she sounded frosty, but right now Ellie couldn’t care less. Her mind was like a DVD frozen on the one scene, unable to move on. All she saw was Flynn’s face for that brief moment he’d acknowledged her. Stupidly, for that minute moment in time, she’d forgotten their lives had moved on, forgotten she no longer had the right to run up to Flynn and fall into his arms. Her chest throbbed at the thought.
The three walked in silence, attracting the odd stare as a car slowed down to see if it really was Ellie Hughes returned. Country folk loved their gossip, and there was a particular validation from seeing certain things with your own eyes.
When they reached Apex Park, Ellie knew she couldn’t put the journalists off any longer. She felt uncomfortable with the subject matter, guilty for not running this past Dwayne first. Bar that one journalist aeons ago, no one had ever asked her about Flynn. She had no rote answers for this.
Ellie sat down on one side of a picnic table and waited for the two to sit. “Okay, this is how it’s going to work. I agree to answer three questions. You choose them carefully and promise that if I talk to you, you’ll stop bothering Flynn Quartermaine.”
“So, you do still care?” The Lake Street fan grinned as if she’d just won a Walkley Award.
Ellie looked at the woman. “Is that your first question?”
“Yes.”
“Of course I care.” Ellie swallowed but it didn’t clear the dry feeling in her throat. “Flynn Quartermaine was a huge part of my life. I came to Hope Junction a broken teenager. I was a mess, but Flynn and Matilda, my godmother, saw past the damage to what was inside. They helped me heal. Although Flynn and I didn’t work out, he’ll always hold a special place in my heart.”
“If he meant so much, why did you leave him standing at the altar?” asked the second reporter.
“Ever heard of cold feet?” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I was nineteen. I was in love but I was scared. I believe I do is forever and, to be honest—” she hesitated, thinking through the ramifications of her words “—I wasn’t sure I could spend my life in a small town indefinitely. I wanted to explore. I wanted to see the world.”
It was a blatant lie, but it was what everyone already believed and, therefore, convenient. The truth was far more distressing, something she couldn’t let herself think about in front of these gossip-hungry strangers.
“How did Flynn cope after you left?”
Both reporters were scribbling her words in their notebooks. They were just as Matilda had accused—vultures. They’d love to hear the truth about Flynn and cast her as the villain. She knew how the media worked. Australia had loved her for far too long, and any journalist would be stoked to write the story that brought the star down. Not to mention that rural Australia was all the rage at the moment. Farmer Wants a Wife had glamorized the Aussie men and women who worked the land in circumstances of drought, flood and other unkind conditions. The country would be extremely sympathetic to Flynn’s story. A zillion women would write to him offering to mend his broken heart.
“He
