happily. ‘I made a lot after tea but Raff forgot to tell me to take them out. They went black. Even the dogs didn’t want them. Raff never forgets,’ she said, heading back to the kitchen. ‘But he’s funny tonight. Do you think it’s because you’re here?’
‘I expect that’s it,’ Abby said, trying desperately to find something to say. Babbling because of it? ‘Maybe it’s because I’m a lawyer. Sometimes police don’t like lawyers ‘cos they ask too many questions.’
‘And sometimes they don’t ask enough,’ Raff growled.
‘Meaning …’
‘Baxter …’
Oh, for heaven’s sake … ‘Leave it, Raff,’ she said. ‘Just butt out of my life.’
‘I did that years ago.’
‘Well, don’t stop now.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Sarah, love, I’m in a rush.’
‘I know you are,’ Sarah said and pushed her into a kitchen chair. ‘You sit down. Raff will make you a nice cup of tea and we’ll talk until the honey jumbles are ready. But don’t yell at Raff,’ she said disapprovingly. ‘Raff’s nice.’
Raff was nice? Okay, maybe a part of him was nice. She might want to hate Raff Finn—and a part of her couldn’t help but hate him—but she had to concede he was caring for Sarah beautifully.
The twelve months after the crash had been appalling. Even her grief for Ben hadn’t stopped Abby seeing the tragedy that was Sarah.
She’d lain unconscious for three weeks and everyone had mourned her as dead. At one time rumour had it that Raff and Gran were asked to stop life support.
At three weeks she’d woken, but it was a different Sarah.
She’d had to relearn everything. Her memory of childhood was patchy. Her recent memory was lost completely.
She’d learned to walk again, to talk. She coped now but her speech was slow, as was her movement. Gran and Raff had brought her home and worked with her, loved her, massaged, exercised, pleaded, cajoled, bullied …
When Gran died Raff had taken it on himself to keep on going. For over a year he hadn’t been able to work. They’d lived on the smell of an oily rag, because, ‘She’s not going into care.’
With anyone else the community would have rallied, but not with the Finns. Not when Raff was seen as being the cause of so much tragedy.
How he’d managed …
If the accident happened now the community would help, she thought. Somehow, in the last years, Raff had redeemed himself. He was a fine cop. He’d cared for Sarah with such love and compassion that the worst of the nay-sayers had been silenced. She’d even thought … it was time she moved on. Time she learned to forgive.
But over and over … He’d killed Ben.
How could she ever be friends with him again?
She didn’t need to be. She simply chose to be distant. So she sat in Raff’s kitchen while Sarah chatted happily, showing her the guinea pigs, explaining they’d had too many babies and that Raff had told her they had to sell some but how could she choose?
Smelling honey jumbles in a kitchen she loved.
Knowing Raff was watching her.
She found her fingers were clenched on her knees. They were hidden by the table. She could clench them as much as she wanted.
It didn’t help. This place was almost claustrophobic, the memories it evoked.
But Raff was watching her and how Raff was making her feel wasn’t a memory. This was no childhood crush. It was like a wave of testosterone blasting across the table, assaulting her from every angle.
Sarah was laughing.
Raff wasn’t laughing. He was simply watchful.
Judgemental? Because she was marrying Philip?
Why shouldn’t she marry Philip? He was kind, thoughtful, clever.
Her fallback?
Um … no. He was her careful choice.
She’d gone out with Philip before Ben had died, just for a bit, when the boys had left home, Raff to the Police Training College, Ben to university.
Philip had left for university, too, but he’d caught glandular fever and come home for a term.
She’d needed a date for her debutante ball and was fed up with Raff being away, with the boys being obsessed with their junk-pile car when they did come home.
Philip had the most wonderful set of wheels. He had money even then. But he wasn’t Raff.
She’d made her debut and she’d found an excuse to break up. The decision wasn’t met with regret. Philip had immediately asked Sarah out.
Maybe if the accident hadn’t happened … Maybe Sarah and Philip …
Where was she going? Don’t even think it, she decided. They were different people now.
Philip especially was different. After the crash … he was so caring. Whenever she needed him, he was there. He’d encouraged her to take up law as well. ‘You can do it,’ he’d said. ‘You’re bright, organised, meticulous. Do law and we’ll set up the best law firm Banksia Bay’s ever seen. We can care for our parents that way, Abby. Your parents miss Ben so much. We can be there for them.’
And so they were. It was all working out. All she needed to do was avoid the judgement on Raff’s face. And avoid the way Raff made her … feel.
How could he bear her here?
One night, one car crash.
And it stood between him and this woman for ever.
How could she marry Philip?
But he knew. It was even reasonable, he conceded.
Philip was okay. Once he’d even been a friend. Yes, the man made money and Raff did wonder how, but that was just his nasty cop mind. Yes, he took on cases Raff wouldn’t touch with a bargepole. If he got Baxter off …
He would get him off, but Raff also knew a portion of Philip’s fee would end up as a cheque to the pensioners Baxter had ripped off. Not all of it—Philip was careful, not stupid with his charity—but the town might end up being grateful. Baxter would think he was great as well.
It was only Raff who’d feel ill, and maybe that was part of ancient history as well. If Philip hadn’t been there that night …
How unfair was that?
‘Tell us about your wedding dress,’ he said, and Abby shot him a look that was both suspicious and angry.
‘You want to know—why?’
‘Sarah
