Jilted

Matilda believed the only way for Ellie to truly move on was for her to sit down with Flynn and tell him everything. She shuddered at the thought. Quite aside from the fact that pinning Flynn down would prove a mammoth task, she was scared that in telling him the truth, she risked bringing back hurtful memories for him. Sure, it might get some of the heaviness off her chest, but she couldn’t jeopardize his well-being simply to clear her conscience.

Bottom line was, she’d never stopped loving him. Seeing him yesterday had made that clear. And what was that old saying? If you loved something you let it go? She reckoned that included not rehashing the painful past.

Her decision made, she climbed out of bed, washed and dressed quickly, and then set to some housework. Matilda rose too and grumbled about being constrained by her cast, so Ellie gave her the important job of drafting the shopping list.

“Leave nothing you desire off that list,” Ellie instructed. “I do not want to be traipsing down to the Co-op every day for something we’ve forgotten.”

Just when Ellie thought the house was sparkling so much she couldn’t put off the shopping expedition any longer, the doorbell—a yodeling one that Matilda bought on a trip to Austria—sang out.

“That’ll be my friend Joyce,” Matilda announced, a beaming smile filling her face. “She’s going to be your chaperone.”

“Chaperone?” Ellie raised a brow while racking her brain for memories of Joyce.

“You haven’t met,” said Matilda, reading her mind. “She and her hubby, Howard, moved here three years ago when they bought the caravan park. Howard died last year but Joyce is a hoot, you’ll love her.”

Joyce let herself in. “Everyone adores me.”

Ellie looked at the fire-engine redhead. Her first thought was that she’d never seen a female built in quite such a...strong way. She couldn’t have asked for a more perfect bodyguard. She smiled. “Well, shopping with me will soon change that. Nobody adores me.”

Joyce hooted with laughter. “I love her already.”

After ensuring Mat had everything within arm’s reach, Joyce and Ellie set off in the Premier.

“Mat phoned me last night,” Joyce announced as she clicked in her seat belt. “She didn’t tell me why you left the Quartermaine boy at the altar, but she said you have your reasons. I want you to know Mat’s word is good enough for me.”

Ellie’s mood plummeted at the idea that Matilda might have told Joyce more, and nausea set in at the thought of Joyce flapping her mouth about town, of Flynn hearing it all on the grapevine. But she quickly relaxed, knowing her godmother would never break her confidence.

“Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it. Mat’s had a lot on her plate recently. She’s so happy you’re here but doesn’t want you being crucified just because she needs you. She wanted someone else in your corner.” Joyce’s voice was serious in a way Ellie hadn’t thought possible, judging by her brassy manner back at the cottage. “And I want you to know, I’m in your corner.”

An alien lump formed in Ellie’s throat. She couldn’t quite get another thanks past it.

“We all make mistakes,” continued Joyce, “and I don’t believe in beating oneself up about them. But that’s your business. If you want to talk, I won’t tell a soul your secret, but neither will I press you about it. I just want you to know.”

“Okay. I appreciate that.” Ellie stared ahead at the road. She didn’t really want to make small talk but she didn’t want silence right now, either. Besides, she wouldn’t mind deflecting the attention from herself. “So, what do you think of Hope? Do you like running the caravan park?”

“Love it. I’m a social butterfly so I adore meeting all the people that come through. And I find the dynamics of small-town life fascinating.”

“That’s one word for it,” Ellie snorted. Suffocating and narrow-minded were others.

“You obviously don’t miss it.”

“Actually, I didn’t mind it,” Ellie said, surprising herself. She’d forgotten. She’d let the horror of her drastic departure overshadow the fact that her years here were the best ones of her life. Busy years, with never a moment’s peace. There was always something going on in the town—whether it be a football game, a quiz night, someone’s party, a fund-raiser for the Hospital Auxiliary. It was impossible to be idle, and there was something about the way country people pulled together in an emergency that couldn’t help but warm your heart. She’d loved being part of that, even if now, looking back, she wondered if she’d merely imagined the act of fitting in.

“I could never go back,” Joyce mused. “Not to all those bright lights, crazy streets and people too busy to smile at a stranger.”

Ellie could tell from the affection in Joyce’s voice that Hope and its people had worked their magic on her. Joyce had fallen in love and the only way she’d ever leave was if they carried her out in a box.

As they found a parking space outside the Co-op, Ellie fought the desire to bite her nails. People were already turning in her direction. Heads were shaking. Lips were twisting downward.

“You know, Joyce,” Ellie said, “perhaps it’d be better if you distanced yourself from me inside. I don’t want my unpopularity to affect your business.”

“Don’t be silly, girl. Most of my business comes from out-of-towners. Besides, if people are that narrow-minded, I don’t want their friendship or their money. Give this town a bit of credit. Granted, we have a few silly biddies, but once they’ve had their moment, you’ll be old news. Come on, let’s get that moment over with.”

Ellie couldn’t deny that she felt better with Joyce by her side. As she locked the car—a somewhat unnecessary precaution in the country—Joyce came around to the driver’s side and took her arm.

“Just hold your head high and smile,” she instructed, and they ventured into the building.

Ellie was used to being the point of focus whenever she went out and about. In Sydney, even though most people didn’t go stupid over celebrities, she was always recognized. She didn’t mind the attention—she liked talking to fans, and was more than happy to give her autograph when requested. Not that she’d be getting any such requests around here.

The moment they stepped through the automatic doors, Ellie felt the chill of the frozen foods section against her cheeks, reminding her of the reception she was expecting. Her gaze moved to the checkout where she’d once worked after school and on Saturday mornings. There was a queue—two trolleys equaled a mad rush in Hope. The customers met Ellie’s eyes and then quickly looked away. She recognized the operator as a girl she’d gone to school with. They’d been quite friendly in the past, but now she wasn’t even giving Ellie the chance to toss that smile Joyce had recommended. The woman made sure her eyes didn’t come near Ellie’s.

Straightening her shoulders and jutting her chin forward, Ellie grabbed a trolley and glanced at Joyce. “Let’s do this.” The quicker the better, she thought.

In response, Joyce smiled encouragingly and held up their shopping list. As they traversed the aisles, customers stared and were more than generous with reproachful glares. One woman even tsked. Halfway round, Ellie decided she could either let them upset her or she could...

“Hi.” She offered a woman in aisle three a huge grin. “Emma, isn’t it? We went to school together.”

Emma, who had divine, jet-black hair in a catwalk bob, blinked and looked as if she’d swallowed a lemon whole. Ellie’s heart stopped midbeat as she waited for a response.

“I’m surprised you remember,” Emma said eventually. “Welcome back.” Her welcome couldn’t be described as warm, and there weren’t any polite comments about catching up, but she hadn’t spit in her face, either. Ellie put that down as a win.

As Emma walked briskly away, Ellie gave Joyce two thumbs-up. They raided items from the shelves and soon filled their trolley. Ellie smiled at a couple of customers she didn’t recognize and even stopped to talk to one of her old teachers while Joyce read the labels on different baked bean tins. The teacher—Mrs. Ellery, who taught English and drama—had aged about twenty years in the past ten but she could still talk for Olympic gold. She chewed Ellie’s ear off for what seemed an hour, pride shining through as she acknowledged one of her prodigies had made it big. It was funny, drama had never been Ellie’s favorite or best subject—not that Mrs. Ellery remembered it that way. Her break was, if anything, accidental.

When she’d arrived in Sydney, Ellie had started waitressing at a trendy, inner-city bar. Located next to a mainstream television production company, it had been the hangout of some top-notch producers. Out of the blue one night, one of them asked if she’d like to be an extra in a location episode he was shooting. Hungry for extra cash and happy she’d only be a shadow in the background, she agreed.

Pretty soon Ellie became a regular extra on Lake Street and, as the saying goes, one thing led to another. She was introduced as the long-lost daughter of a much-loved older character, and as the audience adored her, before too long she was a permanent resident on Australia’s favorite street.

But if you’d asked her at seventeen what she’d wanted to be, actress would never have crossed her mind.

“We’re reviving the theatrical society,” Mrs. Ellery said. She caught the first breath Ellie had heard her take in about five minutes and then added, “You should come along. We could do with your wisdom.”

“Oh, no, I couldn’t.” It was all Ellie could do to stop breaking into nervous hysterics at the thought. Venturing out to buy groceries was one thing, but she could just imagine her reception if she tried to wheedle her way into the group. “I’m not here for long, and there are a couple of things I want to do in that time.” Painting Mat’s gutters and awnings was a much safer bet than what Mrs. Ellery had in mind.

“Think about it, dear.” Then, with a pat on Ellie’s forearm, Mrs. Ellery doddered off down the aisle pulling her tapestry trolley behind her.

Ellie did think about it, her thoughts distracting her as she and Joyce finished the shopping. She barely noticed the cold looks and people turning the other way when they saw her coming down the aisle. The town’s last production—Mary Poppins—had been the year before she’d skipped town. In the middle of winter, it had been the highlight of the cold season. She hadn’t been involved, but Matilda had directed and Ellie had often hung around watching rehearsals. The atmosphere whenever the cast and crew got together had been exhilarating.

“Think that’s us done now,” said Joyce, interrupting Ellie’s memory. “Unless there’s anything else you can think of.”

“No.” Ellie stared ahead at the checkout, trying to remember the name of the girl behind the counter. She knew if she acted friendly and not like the snob they all took her for, she’d stand a better chance of not being stoned. That started with addressing people by their names.

As she stopped the trolley at the front of the store, however, her gaze drifted to the newspapers on a stand next to the checkouts. Across the front page of the West Australian was her face, large and flushed against the pale cement of the service station floor. The headline: Stella’s Soap Opera Past in Rural WA. Flynn’s scowling—but still terribly sexy—face was inset at the bottom of the page.

Her heart plummeted at the publicity she neither needed nor wanted. Ten years ago, one particular hound of a journalist had almost uncovered the whole story when she was first starting to make a name for herself. Luckily a well-known cricket personality had indulged in an affair with a newsreader about the same time, and the story of Ellie and Flynn and their nonwedding had died a quick death.

Her mobile began to shrill from her handbag, the unmistakable tone of Lady Gaga interrupting her thoughts. She ripped the zip open and snatched the phone. Not at all surprised to see the caller was her agent, Dwayne Wright, she pressed Reject and shoved it back inside. There wasn’t time to deal with Dwayne’s fury right now—she had about five hundred newspapers to buy.

“I’ll take the lot,” she told the woman behind the checkout, gesturing to the newspapers. “And if you’ve got any out the back, I’ll take them, too.” Dammit, her name was Simone, she remembered a moment too late.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Simone scoffed, making a derogatory sound between her teeth. “I can’t sell you all the newspapers.”

“Why not?” Ellie’s heart tripped over itself. “My money’s as good as anyone’s.”

Not deeming her comment worthy of a reply, Simone leaned forward and spoke into the PA. “Gavin, can you please come to the checkout? Gavin.”

“Who’s Gavin?” Ellie hissed to Joyce.

“The manager,” Joyce whispered back.

Ah good, thought Ellie, surely he won’t turn down legitimate sales. But of course she was wrong. The manager, whom she recognized as a distant relative of Flynn’s mother, wasn’t even sure he wanted to let her buy one newspaper.

“I don’t want you causing havoc in my shop,” he announced, his pudgy arms folded over an impressive beer gut. “Perhaps you should just leave.”

To hell with being polite, Ellie had just about had it up to here with some of the people in this silly, back-of-beyond town. She thrust her finger at the sign that hung across the entrance. “Last time I checked, this was a co-operative.” She dragged the last word out, showing exactly what she thought of him. “And as I recall, co-operative means owned by the community, whereas you are just its manager. So I’m buying the damn food in this trolley and I’ll buy as many newspapers as I want.”

Upset and sweating, Ellie leaned forward and wrapped her arms around the thick pile of papers. She yanked them up and dropped them on the checkout, narrowly missing Simone’s fingers. Her sunglasses tumbled off the top of her head and the newspapers fell off either side of the ancient conveyer belt making a mess on the floor.

“I’ll pick them up,” said Joyce, her voice taking on a warning tone. “You go wait in the car.”

At Joyce’s words Ellie cringed. She looked at the faces now glaring at her from all over the store. She’d totally lost it, confirming what most of the town probably thought—that she was some up-herself celebrity who thought money could buy everything. Truth was, all she wanted was the chance to prove them wrong. That she wasn’t the evil Jezebel they’d pegged her as. What happened to being human? What happened to everyone making mistakes?

Her eyes brimmed with tears she didn’t want to shed in public. Years on the small screen had made her very good at being able to turn the waterworks on when she didn’t really feel like it, and an expert at switching them off when in the public eye. But right now, she was losing the battle.

Opting to accept Joyce’s out, she stooped to pick up her sunglasses, almost poking herself in the eye in an effort to put them back on. She left the store, walking briskly and failing dismally to hold her head high.

CHAPTER SIX

AS FLYNN MADE his way out of the sheep yards, where he’d been getting his sheep ready for the big ram sale, he saw Lucy running toward him from the homestead. She was shouting something, her arms waving crazily over her head as she did so. He started in her direction.

“What’s up, little sis?”

Despite almost losing it on the weekend and running into Ellie, he’d woken up in a good mood, optimistic about inhabiting the same town as her. The initial meeting was over and, he had to say, it had been less traumatic than he’d anticipated. He’d handled it a lot better than she had, that’s for sure. Probably because, when push came to shove, she was the one with something to feel guilty about. If she hadn’t loved him enough to settle down with him, she should have been woman enough to say so to his face.

As the gap closed between the siblings, Flynn noticed his mobile in Lucy’s hand. Instinctively, he patted his pocket where the phone usually lived. “Careful with that,” he said, reaching for it when Lucy approached.

“I wasn’t the one who left it on the kitchen table where it’s been ringing incessantly and almost vibrating off the edge.” She puffed a little to catch her breath. “The house phone’s been going crazy since the crack of dawn, too.”

Flynn frowned and glanced at the screen. Twenty-two missed calls. That had to be a record.

“Women’s Weekly has rung, TV Week, the Australian and even Sunrise.” Excitement bounced off every word. “Kochie and Mel want to interview you. And Cara says you’re on the front page of the West. You’re famous.” Two words he didn’t want to hear. Especially not for the reasons he guessed. Why else would the journos come sniffing around?

“Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“School holidays,” Lucy said with a grin.

He sighed as the phone buzzed again. “No point prolonging the inevitable.” He answered. “Good morning, Flynn Quartermaine.”

“And a very good morning to you, too, Flynn,” sang a woman’s voice. “How does it feel to have your first love back in town?”

He gritted his teeth. The audacity of the woman not even bothering to introduce herself, hoping he’d spill some juicy news before realizing she wasn’t an old friend. Yeah, right.

“If you’re referring to Ellie Hughes, that has absolutely nothing to do with me. Please don’t call again.”

“But, Flynn...”

He snapped his phone shut. He didn’t have time for this in the middle of shearing. But he knew someone who did. “Lucy, what’s on your agenda for today?”

She pouted. “We’re supposed to be studying for mock exams, but I need to practice my audition for the play. Casting is tomorrow afternoon. Only I’ve rehearsed so many times, I have no idea whether I’m getting worse or better.” Her eyes lit up a moment. “Wanna watch?”

“Yes,” he said, and smiled, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “If you screen my calls today, I’ll help you practice this evening. Deal?”

“Hell, yeah.” She held out her bawdy manicured hand—this time with glittery gold nails—for his phone. “I can handle the media. I can even write you up a press statement if you like. We learned about them last week in English.”

“Hold fire on the press release,” he said. “Tell the media I have nothing to say and take the name and number of anyone important.”

“Got it, captain.” Lucy saluted him.

He chuckled, trying to forget Ellie, forget the press and focus on the work that needed to be done. With not long until farmers from all around came to inspect his stock, he had plenty to organize.

“You’re a champ,” he told Lucy. “And I reckon you’ll knock everyone’s socks off at auditions.”

“I hope so,” she answered, before turning and walking back to the main house.

Alone again, Flynn thought of what the journalist had said and wondered if they were hassling Ellie, as well. Yeah, of course they were. The difference was, she probably relished the attention. But in spite of this, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. Damn, she’d looked great yesterday. Not as polished as the photos he’d glimpsed over the years, her rich brown hair pulled back almost messily, her complexion paler, her body a little thinner than he liked but still...sexy as all hell. Sexy even in simple jeans and a rugby top. Sexier than any other woman he’d ever met. Just the thought of her had the blood pumping in a southerly direction. His hormones were only raring up now because yesterday they’d been suppressed by shock. He’d known sometime or other he’d bump into Ellie—Hope was a small town—but he hadn’t prepared himself well. He hadn’t thought about what he would say when the moment arose. Small talk should have been the go, to show her he’d moved on, that he didn’t feel anything in her presence and that he definitely didn’t want to rekindle their friendship. Discussion of the weather or the lack of rain would have been real insulting. Instead, he’d stared like some crazed pervert and pleaded, “Why?”

For a split second, he’d regretted the question. Maybe he didn’t want to know if there was an answer beyond the conclusions he’d already come to. Sometimes the truth was best left buried in the past. But he needn’t have worried. She’d looked through him as if he was a ghost—a blurry memory from long ago. Simply stared without the slightest inclination to acknowledge him. He’d felt small—real small—and the best thing had been to get out of there before he let loose on exactly what he thought of her.

But as he reflected on it now, and failed to get Ellie out of his head, the question still lay unanswered. Better left alone or not, he couldn’t rid himself of the urge to know if there’d been more to her departure than met the eye.

* * *

“SO, WHO’S IN charge of this revival?” Ellie asked as she helped Matilda into the wheelchair. It was Tuesday, just after lunch, and the first official meeting of the theatrical society had been scheduled in the hope of attracting some of the high schoolers to the production. They’d decided walking was easier than Matilda hauling her crutches in and out the car and having to hobble about once there. Ellie had practiced her deep breathing in front of the mirror only moments ago, telling herself it was silly to get all worked up over walking down the street.

“Precious Joyce and your old drama teacher, Eileen Ellery.” Matilda sighed. “I was supposed to be the third musketeer, but I’m useless as tits on a bull now. Still, I want to be there for moral support.”

Ellie scoffed. “Just because you can’t walk doesn’t mean you’re not worth your weight in gold. I remember all those productions that went off without a hitch due to your fabulous stage management.”

“Ah, you’re too kind, Els. Still, you’d be more use these days.” She paused and Ellie could guess what was coming next. “Why don’t you come in with me and help us judge the auditions?”

“No, thanks.” Ellie was firm as she opened the front door, pushed Matilda through and locked it behind them. A sucker for punishment she was not. “I’ll go home and start on the awnings.” Before Matilda could press any further, Ellie moved the conversation along. “What play are you putting on? Something traditional or something mod?”

As they strolled down the faded footpath, Ellie kept her head low and Matilda jabbered on happily about the play Joyce had written specifically for Hope Junction. “It’s a love story, in essence, but it captures rural life and the community spirit perfectly. It’s a story of drought and depression and the effect these have on relationships. Of course, there’s a happy ending. One big smooch and the curtains will come down in front of a most contented audience, I reckon.”

“Sounds good,” said Ellie, biting her lip as the Memorial Hall came into view—she wasn’t quite ready for another public humiliation. “Pity I won’t be here to see it.”

“Well...” Matilda started, but the sentence was lost as they both took in the sight ahead. Cameras flashed and two people Ellie instantly recognized as journalists huddled around a white ute. The same ute that had been at the service station that day she’d fainted. Flynn’s ute.

Were they harassing him already? Ellie’s heart raced so fast she could virtually hear it and she nearly stumbled on a crack in the concrete. She wished the crack were big enough to swallow her. If she knew the media, they would have found Flynn’s number and started practically stalking him. Thank God, any contact she had with the press always went through Dwayne.

Ellie and Matilda watched as Flynn stepped out of the car, faded jeans clinging to his buttocks and a scowl on his still incredibly gorgeous face. Not making eye contact with anyone, he strode around and opened the passenger door.

The racing of Ellie’s heart stopped as a beautiful young girl slipped out of the car, a smile as wide as a country street on her tanned face. She looked too young for Flynn, but Ellie still felt a jolt of jealousy shoot through her. Jealousy she had no right to—Flynn could date whoever he wanted, even if she did look juvenile enough to be his daughter.