Losing Faith (Surfers Way) (4 page)

Almost three years later

Four sharp knocks land on the glass sliding door to my granny flat.
Mum’s knock.

I’ve lived out here for years, and I love how she still gives me my privacy and knocks.
It’s not like I have boys in here, Mum.

“Come in, Mum,” I call as I flesh out a paragraph in my final assignment for the year, which is due soon.

The glass door slides across and Mum appears. She’s wearing her pale blue scrubs, and her greying blonde hair is pulled up into a loose bun.
Ready for another shift at the hospital
. I don’t know how she does it sometimes. She’s already worked a good five hours helping Dad in the shop this morning, and then she entertained my baby while my head was buried in my laptop. I’m convinced my mother is Wonder Woman.

“There’s a certain little someone who’s been turning the house upside-down, busting to see you.”

My heart aches the moment I think of his dark chocolate eyes and fluffy brown hair. Then the guilt sets in. “Sorry, Mum. I feel awful, but I had to get this done. I promise I’ll make it up to him with snuggles later. Has he been okay?”

“Charlie clearly likes spending more time with you than with us.”

Awwwww.
“Who knew poodles were so fussy?” I joke with a shrug. “I promise I’ll take him for a long walk tomorrow.”

“Sounds lovely. Can you please bring him in now though, because Fran from work is on her way over for a coffee. We know how Charlie hates humans.”

“No worries.”

Mum takes a look at her pocket watch. “It’s going on four o’clock. Your father will be expecting you soon, sweet,” she says, and then steps over the destruction of dirty clothes strewn across the floor.

I grit my teeth to stop myself from whining. Sure I get paid but I have stuff to read.
Dad needs me
. Plus, I haven’t eaten much today, and I reckon I could swallow the house special in a minute flat.
The perks of working in the family pizzeria.

“I know. I just need a few more minnies and then I’m gone. Promise.”

“Lacey, I hate to nag, but you know what I’ve said to you about your clothes.”

Don’t roll your eyes at her.

Blink. Blink.

I divert my attention from the glowing screen once more and give her a cheesy smile. “Yeah, I know.
They won’t wash themselves
. I’ll do laundry tomorrow. I promise. It’s a done deal.”

“Okay then.” Her jasmine perfume wafts around me as she leans down and kisses me on top of my head. “You’ve had your head buried for weeks on the computer. Same assignment?”

Since I started my diploma, Mum and Dad have been nothing but supportive. For the past two years, even though I’ve tried to hide my motivation for taking up studies in this field, I can tell that they’ve known. My parents back me and Dad, much to my surprise, hasn’t given me grief about working less hours in the shop. What with it being a family business and all, and with my love-sick older brother, Ricky, overseas, I was sure the pressure would be on me to spend more time in the shop, but they’ve just kind of let me … evolve. Let me work out what I want to do. It means the whole frickin’ world. I just wish part of my evolution into grown-up land wasn’t as a result of losing Faith.

“Yeah, same one. I’ve got a bit to go yet. Sorry. I’ve kind of only been coming into the house for food lately.” Who knew that the Australian legal system could hold my undivided attention? The Parliament stuff I could do without. It has me to the point of tears at times, but it’s the court stuff that holds my attention. The coroner’s court in particular.

“Don’t be sorry, sweet. I’m proud of you. We both are.”

“Thanks, Mum.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.” On her way out, she whisks the clothes off the floor and piles them on top of the other clothes already overflowing from my wash basket.

Tomorrow. Washing.

---

Five hours later, the smell of wood-fire clings to my skin and clothes. It was busy tonight, but I wasn’t completely run off my feet. Aunt Cat helped out with phone orders and the register, clearing the tables in the courtyard during quieter times. Sometimes the customers have trouble understanding her thick Italian accent, but the English lessons she’s taking are really helping.

Right on schedule, a familiar man in uniform enters the shop, fifteen minutes before closing. His bald head gleams beneath the fluorescent lights as he stands at the cash register.

“How are you?” I ask Sergeant Wilson, as I dust the flour off my hands onto my apron and walk towards him.

“Fine, thanks. Is my order ready yet?”

I have to try and hold back a grin. He doesn’t want small talk. He wants to get straight down to business, but he should know by now that I’ll never give up the fight. “Just coming out of the oven.”

“Lovely.” He hands me the correct change and takes a step to the side, as if he’s going to sit in one of the chairs we have reserved for pick-ups.
Not so fast, buddy. You’re forgetting something.

“Any new leads?” I enquire, just like always.

He halts and turns to face me. “You know I can’t discuss that with you, Lacey.” He switches the volume down on his two-way radio, which is fixed to his hip, and then looks back up at me.

I nod and force a smile. “I know. I just have to ask.”

“I understand, love.”

Dad boxes up the policeman’s margherita and vegetarian pizzas and slides them towards me. When I hand Wilson his order, he tilts his head to the side and blinks, staring at me. Am I wearing flour or tomato sauce on my face?

He opens his mouth as if he’s about to tell me something. My breath hitches. What is it? Do they have more information? Does he have news? Without a single word, his lips come together and one side of his mouth quirks up into a smile. My shoulders drop. He’s not sharing tonight.

“See you same time next week,” he says. His heavy boots clod on the tiled floor and the bell rings, declaring his exit.

“Give the man a break, Peppi,” Dad says and juts his chin towards the front door.

“Dad,” I groan. By responding to him in this tone, which I know is kind of disrespectful, means he knows exactly what I’m saying.
I’ll keep pushing. I won’t give up. In time, someone will pay. In time, we’ll have answers.

Dad shakes his head and sets about cleaning the topping station.

I head out back and fill up a bucket with hot soapy water and collect the broom and mop from the back room by the rear door.

Seeing as there are no customers in the shop and we’re about to close, I pile the white plastic chairs into stacks, sweep the floor and then start mopping.

“Looks like young Quade’s back in town, Peppi,” Dad says, causing my head to swing at lightning speed towards him. Dad nods towards the street.

The mere mention of his name has my legs rooted to the floor. Blood charges to my face. Three long years, and still my stomach does this weird flippy thing that only Quade Kelly has the power to cause.

The wake was the last time I saw him. To be more accurate, it was about five minutes before I defiled his mother’s herb garden, hurling. Probably another reason why I wasn’t welcome back after that.
I miss that cubby house
. It was the go-to place for us girls to hang out, talk about stuff and just be … us. Those memories are tainted with the memory of me drunk, sulking and bleeding tears. That day, Quade was in a world of hurt. He wasn’t coping. Dark rings hung from his eyes, and he looked empty. How have the years treated him? Is he okay? Has he been able to bridge the gap with his parents? Have they realised that whether he either did, or didn’t do something, that inevitably he wasn’t at fault?

The last I heard about Quade was that he was in a relationship, which broke my heart. A few months ago Mum overhead Mrs Kelly at the chemist, talking about how serious things were with Quade and his soon-to-be-fiancée, Nari, and how she was sure it wouldn’t be long before there’d be wedding bells and the pitter-patter of tiny feet. I had to fight back the tears that night, because I’d always thought news like that about Quade would involve me.

I wasn’t expecting him to stay single forever. I’d be delusional if I did. I guess it’s more the point of me being disappointed with the fact that we never got to move our relationship forward.
We would’ve been so good together.

Aunt Cat goes outside to tidy the courtyard while I finish the floor, taking my time wiping down the counter-tops before I dare look outside. Just knowing he’s there has my heart beating like a trapped bird flapping its wings—desperate and out of control. Heat prickles at my face and I’d bet my life a blotchy rash is spreading across my chest. With any luck, my round-necked black T-shirt will cover most of it.

When I look through the glass door, the first thing that grabs my attention is that smile. I swear that damn smile and those pearly whites are eighty per cent of the reason I’ve crushed on him. I can’t see the dimples due to the distance between us, but I know they’re there too. The butterflies in my stomach come to life as he lifts his square jaw in a silent acknowledgment, and then runs his outstretched fingers through his chestnut brown hair which has a touch of lightness at the ends. Does he still spend as much time at the beach as he used to?
Ay yai yai.

I take a moment to truly appreciate him and his new and improved athletic form. A fitted white tee is firm against his rounded pecs, the fabric stretched to accommodate his biceps, which are much more toned and rounded than they were years ago. I know because I ogled them every chance I could.

His navy shorts sit low on his hips, the hem resting a few inches above his knee and giving me a peek of strong thigh muscles underneath. I push on with a full sweep of his body, admiring the gentle curve of his toned calves atop his blue runners.

Whilst he definitely didn’t look like a boy the last time I saw him, now Q is that much more of a man.

I put my khaki satchel over my head and say goodbye to Dad and Aunt Cat. Any other time we’d drive home together, but tonight I have a visitor, and I’m thinking the walk home will do me good. I flick the sign on the door over so that “closed” faces the street. The bell on the door rattles as I swing it open and make my way over to Quade.

“Hey, Lacey Lou,” he drawls. His vibrant blue eyes twinkle as his mouth slowly pulls until he delivers a mega-watt smile.

I gulp down the lump in my throat. After almost three years, he’s as casual as if he saw me yesterday. The butterflies in my stomach turn psycho at the sweet rumblings of his voice, bashing around my insides as if they’re claustrophobic and need to escape. Clearly, they’ve missed him.
Them and me both.

“Hey,” I say on an exhale, but inside I’m all “I’ve missed your rugged face”, “Where the hell have you been?”, “I needed a friend like you”, and “Damn, have you been working out?” “Like, um, seriously, working out?”

He pushes off the lamp post, uncrossing his ankles, and steps closer to me. “You walking home?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.

“I’d fly on the back of a unicorn, but I haven’t seen one around here for a good few months. I’m sure they’ll be back in the warmer weather.”

“Do you always have to be a smartarse?” he scoffs.

I never act like this around anyone else.
Go figure.
Even after all this time apart, old habits come back in full force. Being smart and being a pain in Quade’s arse were my ways of hiding my feelings for him in front of everyone else. “Better than being a dumbarse.”

I start walking down the street. Quade falls into step with me.

“How you been?” he asks and clears his throat.

“Good.”
That’s debateable.

“Cool. Are you still living with your parents?”

“Yeah, but I’m in the granny flat, so I get my space.”

“Cool,” he says and shrugs.

“So what are you doing back in town? It’s been a while.”

“I’ve got a casual position teaching at the primary school until the end of the year and then next year I’ll be permanent.”

Blood rushes to my face, and I swear I hear the force of it in my ears as it pushes through my veins with power behind it. He’ll be around here full-time? Not just visiting?

“I would have thought the lure of the city would’ve kept you away.”

“I always had every intention of coming back here. The big smoke had no chance of keeping me. I love this place too much.”

“Your parents must be stoked,” I say.

He snorts and gives his head a quick shake from side to side. “I worry about them,” he says, avoiding my question.

Worry? Whatever for?
Surely Mrs Kelly is over the moon to have her son home, especially with Quade’s upcoming news of weddings and celebrations.

“Yeah, I can’t imagine the last few years have been easy on them, but I’m sure with you around there’s stuff to look forward to.”

Quade gives me a quizzical look and then blinks rapidly a few times, seeming to shake off whatever he was thinking about. “You still see my parents much?”

I toy with a tangle of loose hair that’s escaped my ponytail and wrap it around my finger.
Here we go
.

“Um, well you see,” I mumble and bite down on my fingernail, which is already that close to the quick.

His warm fingers wrap around my hand, saving my nail from being chewed to the point of bleeding. My feet cement to the ground and he steps in, taking prime position within my personal space. “What, Lace?” he asks, concern in his tone. “What happened with my parents?”

A tortured sigh leaves my lips, and I draw in a deep breath. His blue eyes bore into mine, looking for answers. Does he have any idea? From his concerned expression, I don’t think he does. I narrow my eyes at him. “You don’t know, do you?” I walk around him taking slow steps along the path.

“Know what? My parents still see you, right? You were like an adopted daughter,” he says. His tone is hopeful.

I wish so bad that it were true. That we were still like family. Mr and Mrs Kelly were the parents I had when mine were too busy working.

After Faith died, when I finally snapped out of my feeling-sorry-for-myself alcohol-induced phase, I committed myself into action. That was when Mr and Mrs Kelly shut me out. I wasn’t going to rest until Faith’s killer was behind bars even if they had an issue with it, for some reason. I still won’t rest until that day.

“I don’t know if you heard, but I kinda lost some friends over my crusade.”

He grabs my wrist, stopping me in my tracks. “Explain.”

“I’ve never stopped looking for who was responsible for Faith’s death.”

Will he resent me for constantly reminding this seaside community what it lost that night?

“You haven’t?”

I don’t miss the high pitch of his voice.

What the hell has he been doing the last few years? Has he had his head buried in the sand when it comes to his family?

“Your parents didn’t say anything to you about me?” I ask, guessing they haven’t given his lack of knowledge on the subject.

“They don’t like to talk about her, or anything remotely related, so no. Makes it kinda tough.”

“I can imagine. They didn’t like me talking about her either,” I admit. The words sting as they leave my mouth. Mrs Kelly really gave it to me that day at the supermarket. I know she was grieving. She still is. I just wish she would let me explain, let me talk about Faith. Surely talking about it would help her move on, or find some kind of acceptance of what happened? She might have lost a daughter, but I lost a sister. Things have never been the same for me since.

A long silence stretches between us as we turn into my street.

“What did you mean by losing friends?”

Boy. He really knows nothing.

“I’ve interrogated every single person in this town. The police nearly charged me with interfering with police business.”

“What? That’s insane,” he says, his voice climbing in octave. “There must have been a misunderstanding.”

“No misunderstanding, Quade. I just never let up. I couldn’t.”

He scratches at the side of his temple and lets out a laboured breath. “Wow. That’s full on.”

“Yeah, it was.” If only he knew how full on it was with social media. The bullying, the torment, the death threat that had my parents shit scared and the police on our doorstep. Looking back now, I should have thought twice before I created the “Who Killed Faith Kelly?” Facebook page.

I take a step back as we reach the point in the road where my driveway meets the tar.

“I can’t believe your dad still has the van,” Quade says, eyeing the mountain covered with a tarp at the side of the house.

“Ha, yeah. Still here. Generations of bugs and spiders have lived and died in there. He looks at it from time to time, but he refuses to get rid of it. He says we can’t bury him until it’s rolling around the streets of Runaway.”

“Stubbornness sure runs in your family.”

“Excuse me,” I say in mock offence. “I prefer the term headstrong.”

“Headstrong it is then.”

“You know if you think I’m headstrong, I have nothing on my mother. She said that if Dad doesn’t move it in the next two years, she’ll be asking the guys at the cemetery to dig a hole big enough for the both of them.”

“God I love your mum,” he says and chuckles.

She loves you too, Quade. I loved you …

I let out a long breath, wishing that I could stay and talk all night, but I’m dog tired and want to feel at least half-human tomorrow. And there’s the whole he’s-got-a-fiancée thing too.
Awkward.
“Anyway, I’d better get inside. Thanks for the walk. I guess I’ll see ya ’round,” I say with a shrug.

Quade stands firmly planted to the black bitumen on the street, his arms open wide. “You gonna give me a hug or what?”

“Sure,” I say, taking small steps until the tips of my purple Converse shoes meet his sneakers. He sighs and his shoulders drop as he slowly lets out a breath and wraps his giant arms around me. I feel so small, almost lost in his embrace. He moves his face closer to the crook of my neck, sniffing at my hair as he draws in a breath. “You don’t have to act all tough guy, Lace, like you haven’t missed me or anything,” he says, his low voice rumbling in my ear.

If only he knew just how much.

I choke back the whirlwind of emotions bubbling inside me, reaching the point where I can stop the tears from tumbling. One knee buckles. He tightens his grip around me. Once upon a time I would have yelled at him for so many things—for not making contact, for not seeing if I was okay—but too much time has passed. Even though we never got to show each other how we felt, he took a huge piece of my heart the day he left.

What we had was special. The promise of something with Quade was the only thing in my life that gave me that kick of excitement. Us being together was the only thing in my future I was certain of. I wanted Quade Kelly. I wanted to be with him
. I would have given him the world.

I’ve dealt with the fact that he left. It was a shitty thing to just pack up and never look back, but I know he had his reasons. After all this time, I’ve moved on, and I shouldn’t be surprised that Quade has moved on too.

The hug continues. The embrace is not the kind that a guy who’s about to propose to his girlfriend should be giving to another woman. What’s with that?

“I’d better go,” I say quietly, withdrawing from his warmth. “There’s a hyperactive little fella in there that’s waiting for my attention.”

He looks to the house and then back at me. “A what?”

A loud howl cries out from behind the fence followed by a series of scratches against the back of the timber gate, which has the metal parts clanging against each other. Luckily Mum is still at work, so I don’t have to stress about him waking her.

“Ah, speaking of, that’s Charlie,” I say and chuckle.

“Oh, right,” he says and snorts. “I thought for a second you were talking about a kid.”

“I promise you. Kids aren’t on the cards for me anytime soon.” That would require a partner, and some indication of a sex life. “Not like some.”

He stares vacantly at me and then takes a few steps up the driveway and looks back to where my feet are firmly rooted to the ground.
Well, isn’t he the gentleman. Is he going to walk me all the way to my door?

I skip to catch up, and Quade walks me towards the gate. The sensor floodlight casts a strong beam over us, causing long shadows of our figures to stretch out on the grass to the right of us.

He licks his lips, pink lips that I’d intended on ravishing the shizzle out of way back then. It’s funny how today the same feelings are there.
But he’s not mine.

Quade nods and licks at his lower lip again, not breaking eye contact with me as he draws the flesh between his teeth.

“Have you been eatin’ donuts or something?” I ask him.

His brows pull together, causing a crease in the skin above his nose. “No. Why?”

“Then why are you licking your lips like that?”

He looks me up and down, causing an ache low in my stomach. He slowly runs his tongue over his top and then bottom lip, just to be an arse about it. “A man can’t lick his lips?”

“Not when they’re looking at me like you are now.”
Diversion
. “Anyway, I’d better get to Charlie.”

His eyes light up as the whining through the gate grows into a rough growl. “Let me see him,” he says.

“He’d probably jump all over you. He doesn’t understand the whole ‘playing nice’ thing.”

“Come on, Lacey. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“Ah, you end up in emergency with a ripper of a bite?”

Charlie takes an almighty leap against the fence, his head peeking over the gate for a split second.

“Sit down, boy,” Quade says, his tall frame peering over the fence.

“Okay, but don’t say that I didn’t warn you,” I tease.

I unlatch the gate and creep it open, preparing to grab Charlie’s collar at the first sight of it.

Charlie pushes his nose into the gap and swings his head violently to the side causing the gate to fly open.

The man beside me kneels and Charlie bounds into his chest, licking at his neck and the round curve of his shoulder.

Never have I been jealous of a dog in my life.
Ever
. Until now. “He usually doesn’t like people.”

“He seems fine to me,” Quade says, chuckling as he ruffles his fingers around his ears and then scratches under his chin.

Charlie rolls over onto his back and whines as he is gifted with a belly rub that has me wanting to throw myself on the grass and flash my stomach for the same kind of attention.

Well of course he likes Quade Kelly. Who doesn’t?