April's Glow (6 page)

* * *

If he hadn't ended the call when he did it would have been dangerous. Things, feelings, were welling up inside, things he hadn't allowed to well up for a long time. It was crazy, he hardly knew the woman. But it felt like he'd met her before. Anyway,
she
was dangerous … to the stability he'd worked so hard for, to his focus. But danger drew him close like a magnet. Always had, always would. As long as he didn't get too close, he'd be okay. He could be friendly, a good neighbour, flirt a little, but that was all.

As he returned to his room and shut the window, a bird squawked far in the distance; a reminder that in a couple of hours the sun would start to rise. As it always did. Knowing that no matter what, the sun would shine with each new day, had kept him going over the last several months.

One day at a time,
he reminded himself.

And there were only one hundred and forty-four of them to go.

April checked her income and expenses spreadsheet on the computer at work and winced. There were so many expenses in the early stages of running a business, but as long as she had enough to cover her living expenses, it'd be worth it in the long run.

‘It's all for a good cause,' Belinda said. ‘What's with the worried face?'

April flicked her hand. ‘It's nothing. Should have budgeted a bit better, I guess. But yeah, I wanted to do this.'

Providing a heap of complimentary candles for the upcoming Anzac Day service in a couple of weeks would put a dent in her income, but it would be worth it. Sure, her business name would get exposure, but that wasn't the reason. Knowing that candles from her store would bring light and hope to those remembering a traumatic past made her feel good. Like she was making some sort of difference, however small. Just as one small candle had given
her
hope.

She recalled how Zac had picked up on this. Or maybe he had guessed. Either way, it had nudged a part of her inside that didn't want to be nudged. That part that if she allowed herself to become too aware of, might release a whole lot of stuff she wasn't ready to face. She had to stay focused, happy, and keep moving forward. If she kept going, kept getting further away from her own past, maybe it would gradually disappear.

April grabbed her handbag.

‘Let me guess, Café Lagoon?' asked Belinda. ‘Why not try some place different for lunch?'

‘Well, last week I went to the café around the corner, remember?'

She nodded. ‘Or you could get some takeaway and sit in the park today. Fresh air, sunshine, maybe perv on random cute men.' She raised her eyebrows twice.

‘Actually, I
will
go some place different.'

Belinda held out a hand to high-five, but April didn't take it.

‘I have some leftover soup at home. Need to save money. I'll eat there and be back in an hour.'

‘Bor-ing.' Belinda dropped her hand and slumped, then straightened up. ‘Oh! Unless … perving on not-so-random cute men who live next door perhaps?'

April shook her head and was about to exit the store when she remembered. A candle for Zac. She peered at her shelves and displays.

Just a man.

Needs a candle for his home.

You choose.

She couldn't get him anything too girly, or too sweet smelling, or too … what sort of candle could he possible want?

Men like food, right? Food, and … spicy stuff. Right?

Cinnamon. She grabbed the burnt orange-brown triple-wick candle from behind the display of cinnamon sticks wrapped in twine.

‘Shoplifting?' Belinda asked.

‘Living dangerously.' April winked and walked out.

* * *

She wouldn't give it to him yet, like she'd rushed back on her lunchbreak to obey his strange demands. She quickly walked past his house and into hers. Romeo meowed profusely at the back door and she let him in. ‘Shh, Romeo, the neighbour might be having an afternoon nap.' She hoped he was, at least. Then she could eat her lunch in peace and not get lost in some weird discussion about cats or Shakespeare or condoms.

A combination of carrots, celery, and broccoli in her spicy vegetable soup warmed her stomach as Romeo weaved under and around the dining table chair, his tail held high like a flag. She scrolled through Facebook but nothing caught her interest. Just the usual ‘look what I had for lunch' and ‘so-and-so is feeling sad because such-and-such has discontinued her favourite lipstick shade', and …
Argh!
Why did people think it was appropriate to post pictures of spiders they'd found around their house? Actually, that would be a good Facebook status. She typed it in and hoped the culprit who she didn't actually know in real life but was a friend of a friend of a friend of someone she'd known fifteen years ago, would see it and get the hint.

Her phone rang with an unknown number. If it were a telemarketer she would sing an annoying children's song really loud. Then she'd post on Facebook that she'd done that and people would comment with ‘LOL' and ‘good one!' and ‘thanks now I have that song stuck in my head'.

‘Hello?' she answered.

‘Chosen a candle yet?'

April's spoon clattered into the bowl.

‘Well, have you?'

‘Patience is a virtue,' she replied.

‘I thought patience was a pain in the arse.'

Why did their conversations never go the way normal conversations should go?

‘I'm on my lunchbreak. I have to go back to work soon.'

‘I know. I heard you come home. That Romeo of yours has a loud meow. I think he's sexually frustrated. Anyway, you haven't answered my question.'

April's mouth dropped open a little. ‘If you must know, yes, I do have your candle. And you can wait until I feel like giving it to you. I'm enjoying a well-deserved break right now.'

‘Let me guess, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook or YouTube videos?'

Was the guy a psychic?

‘I'm … um, that's none of your business.'

‘You should try meditation. Calms the mind, refreshes the body, that sort of thing.'

‘You should try not calling people you hardly know with your impatient demands and advice.'

Silence.

‘Do
you
meditate?' she asked. ‘I bet you do. You seem like the type.'

‘I do. But there is no type. I am who I am.'

‘You're Zac, a guy who doesn't feel the cold, has tattoos, a cat called Juliet, and who likes to
be
. That's all I know.'

‘Do you want to know more?'

Silence.

‘I should get back to work.' She cleared her throat. But bubbles of curiosity popped madly away inside. She
so
wanted to know more. But she couldn't give in. Men were complicated, and this one was, without a doubt. No complications allowed.

‘Can I have my candle first? Please? Also, I have one for you.'

‘You have a candle for me?'

‘Sort of.'

‘You either do or you don't.'

‘Come and see for yourself. I'm out back.' He hung up before she could object.

He probably had one of those cheap, petroleum-based tea light candles he'd half used and would give it to her as a joke. And he'd better pay her for the cinnamon candle, she couldn't afford to give any more freebies.

She went out to the back deck. Zac was laying on the grass in his backyard, hands behind his head, gazing up at the sky. At least he was wearing a t-shirt. And jeans. His feet were bare. Romeo scooted off to the bushes and April made her way to the fence. She held up the candle. ‘That'll be thirty-seven bucks, thanks. And add three dollars for home delivery, so let's round it up to forty.' She gave a nod, though he wasn't looking her way.

‘Bring it over,' he said. ‘Come join me. You have to look at this cloud.'

‘Huh? You want your candle, come here and get it. I don't have time to laze away the day looking at clouds.'

‘You should make time. You're missing out.'

April sighed. ‘You can leave the money in my letterbox and I'll drop the candle over after work when you've finished your important cloud-gazing work.' She walked back up to her deck.

‘Hey, hang on.'

She turned.

Zac got up and walked to the fence, extracted his wallet from his back pocket. ‘Here you go.' He held out a fifty-dollar note.

She met him at the fence and took it. ‘I'll have to go inside and get change for you.'

‘Keep it,' he said, his eyes allowing no objection.

‘Well, um, thanks. Here's your candle.'

He accepted it and lifted it to his nose. ‘Cinnamon. How did you know?'

‘Know what?'

‘That it's one of my favourite spices.'

‘I didn't. But I mean, who doesn't like cinnamon?'

He shrugged. ‘And three wicks, much better than one. Now I feel special.' He offered a small smile.

‘It's just how they make those ones.' April flicked her hand. ‘So where's mine, huh?'

He raised his eyebrows.

‘My candle? You said you had one for me.'

‘Oh yeah. You have to come over to get it.'

Yeah … no.
He was clearly only interested in one thing, trying to hit on her and invite her over for a midday rendezvous. ‘Nice try. My job is calling.'

‘But if you don't come and least look at the candle, it'll be gone soon.'

‘How so? Planning to give it to another neighbour?'

‘You'll know what I'm talking about when you get here.' He grinned. ‘C'mon, this fence isn't too high. Jump on over, I'll give you a hand.'

It was a shame that someone so damn attractive was such a ladies' man. If he spoke to people normally and showed respect and didn't demand they do things, he'd be a decent catch. Not that she was looking for one.

April smiled to herself.
Time to scare him off with the reality of my situation.
Then he'd probably leave her alone to live her life in peace and he could continue cloud gazing and meditating and whatever the heck he liked to do. Or be.

‘Yeah, I can't just jump on over,' she said. ‘Even if I wanted to.' She bent down and rolled up the fabric of her left trouser leg, exposing her prosthetic limb.

Zac peered over and looked for a moment.

‘Still want me to “jump on over”?' She made quotation marks with her fingers. When she'd signed up to internet dating she'd clearly stated in her profile that she was an amputee, so that if anyone wanted to meet her they knew in advance and she wouldn't have to do the big reveal. That was why when someone had wanted to meet her and then stood her up as a stupid April Fools' joke, it had made her angry. Just once she'd wanted something to go right in her life.

‘Sure,' Zac said.

Huh?

‘Come around the side gate.' He started walking down the side of his house. ‘You coming or what?' He looked at her like he didn't have all day. Which he clearly did.

No one had ever reacted like that before. Or
non-reacted
. ‘Aren't you going to ask me what happened to my leg?'

He shrugged. ‘Right now, I just want to show you this candle.'

April edged slowly along the fence, towards her own side gate that mirrored his, her eyes not leaving his gaze. He wasn't pretending that the prosthesis hadn't surprised him, he appeared genuinely uninterested, unaffected.

Without speaking, she unlatched her gate, walked around the front towards his house, then through into his backyard.

What on earth am I doing?

Zac returned to his spot on the grass, lying on his back. ‘See?' He pointed to the sky.

April peered up, shading her face.

‘You have to get down here to see it properly.' He gestured to the ground.

‘I'm supposed to lie down next to you, get grass stains on my work clothes, and look at the sky?'

‘Yep. Hurry up.'

April laughed, shook her head, crouched down, and manoeuvred herself onto her back.

‘See?' Zac said. ‘That one over there. The bit at the top looks like a wick, and that cloud puff is like a flame. Cool, eh?'

It took a moment until her brain formed the image from the cotton wool clouds. ‘Huh. There you go.' If she'd had her phone she would have taken a photo, but Zac must have read her mind because he got his from his pocket and snapped a picture.

‘Just sent it to you.'

She turned to glance at him, only realising then how close his face was to hers. The sun gave his stubble a light sparkle. There were slight creases at the corners of his eyes, and his irises were dusty green with flecks of orangey-brown, like … cinnamon. ‘Thanks.' She quickly looked back to the sky. ‘But you lied. You can't
give
me that candle, only show me.'

He chuckled. ‘Oh, but I did. In here.' He tapped his temple. ‘Material things are never really ours, only our memories. Like the clouds that move and change shape, life and
things
are fleeting.' Zac got up and released a masculine-sounding exhalation. ‘Back in a sec. Have to write that down!' He scurried into his house.

April sat up and leaned back on her hands. She shook her head, which she seemed to be doing a lot around him. He's a writer. That must be it. ‘Are you some famous novelist living a secret life in Tarrin's Bay, and that's why you won't tell me what you do?' she asked when he returned.

‘Nope. I just write poetry. On my blog. That's it.'

‘And you make money from that?'

He shook his head.

‘So it's a hobby?'

He shook his head again. ‘It's way more than that.'

Okay, maybe he was a billionaire who wanted to see how the other half lived for a while. Or he could have won the lottery and didn't want people to know he never had to work another day in his life.

April stood. ‘I'll stop being nosy. Thanks for the, ah, cloud candle, and I hope you enjoy yours. Even though it's not really
yours
. I hope you enjoy it … in
here
.' She tapped her temple and smiled.