The Road Home Read online

  “You’re pretty cute, so if I’m going to be abducted, tortured and killed by anyone I would pick you over some stinky and hairy trucker any day. Besides, I’m pretty sure I could take you if it ever comes to it.”

  I chance a glance at him before returning my concentration back to the road.

  Gabe is the first one to speak after an hour of driving in silence. “So you’re a nurse?”

  “What? How could you know?”

  He points to the “Nurses Make It Feel Good” sticker I’d put on the glovebox after my second-year exams. Mum had bought it for me, she had thought it was funny and was reasonably proud enough at the time to boast her daughter was studying to be a nurse.

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” My tone is flat in reply to his question.

  Diverting my attention back on the road ahead, we fall into silence for a time until again Gabe breaks the silence between us.

  “So, you’re a nurse. You clearly have no idea about cars, which is perfectly okay because it works out well for me. You listen to crony old country music but you’re a closet Rolling Stones fan. You’re cute when you frown.” Glancing over at him after his last observation, I see Gabe is crossing off his list using his fingers. “You have a dog, and Bingo was his name-o. You’re a fan of unicorns. And your name is Fern or Rain or something like that,” He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “Am I right?”

  “I have no idea where you’re getting your information from but I hope you didn’t pay for it. I’m studying to be a vet nurse. But yes, I do love the Rolling Stones,” The sparkly tongue and lips on my shirt were a dead giveaway, and the giant fluffy unicorn hanging from my keys was just as obvious. “And Unicorns. This station is the only one I can get any decent reception on,” I point at the car stereo. Dad had wanted to replace it with something a little more modern but I had stupidly declined, wanting to keep the car “authentic and vintage” blah, boy was I regretting looking that gift horse in the mouth now. As if Gabe doesn’t believe me, he tries to tune in another station. “I do have a dog back home but her name isn’t Bingo.”

  He turns to me with a shit-eating grin on his face. “So is it Fern or Rain, I’m betting on Fern.”

  “Emerson.”

  “Oh, would you believe that was my next guess?”

  “No, I wouldn’t. And I’m not frowning. This is my normal face.”

  “Hmm, well how about that.” He turns to face the windscreen, still with a smirk on his face. “So now we’re not strangers anymore, want to tell me where we’re heading?”

  “I have no idea where you are going,” I scoff at his stupid question, “But I’m heading home.”

  “Which is where exactly?”

  “Shouldn’t this be your first question before forcing your way into the car with me?”

  “Naw, come on, Emmy, Em. Life is a journey, I just wondered where this journey was actually headed.”

  “First of all, you don’t get to call me either of those names. Only my friends or family get to call me that and we are most definitely not friends, you’re merely a stranger in need of a ride with a set of skills I need to get home. Secondly, life is not a journey, it is a series of good or bad choices.”

  “We hugged it out a little back there, I think that makes us closer to friends than it does to strangers,” He pauses for a moment as if pondering something, “Unless you treat all strangers like that?”

  “No!” I can’t help the blush creeping across my cheeks. “This conversation is over.” I snap.

  He chuckles to himself before fiddling again with the dials on the car radio. I’m stunned when he tunes in another station without any crackling interference.

  With my mouth wide open I turn to look at him, my icy resolve melting a little at the minor miracle Gabe had just achieved. “I’ve had this car for about four years and the whole time I haven’t been able to pick up any other stations.” Triumphantly, he grins at me.

  Gabe puffs his chest out, “What can I say, I have a gift. Many gifts in fact.”

  Pointing at the kilometre marker for Sydney, Gabe turns to me. “You know Emmy, I’ve never been to Circular Quay. In fact, I have never even crossed the harbor bridge.”

  “We don’t have time to play tourist. I’m already behind schedule now.”

  “So you’ve been to Darling Harbour? Tell me what it’s like.” Gabe flutters his eyelashes as me, resting his chin on the palm of his hand.

  “No, I’ve never been.”

  “Oh, I assumed you did since we’re going to fly right through without checking it out. My mistake.” He mumbles but it’s loud enough for me to hear him.

  “I’m sorry. I can’t stop.”

  “Can’t or won’t? Cause there is a difference.”

  “Gabe, please, I have to stay on schedule if I’m to get home on time.”

  His voice softens, all traces of humour gone. “What is so urgent?”

  “A wedding.”

  “Yours?”

  “What? No. My little sister, Amelia is getting married this weekend.”

  “Is that why you’re so uptight? Your little sister is getting married before you?”

  “No, don’t be ridiculous. It’s my little sister for Pete’s sake.”

  “So you’re not jealous?”

  “What do I have to be jealous about? I could’ve been married by now if I had wanted to be.” I could hear in my tone I was defensive.

  “Okay.” I resent his tone, it’s dismissive and makes me feel like I owe him an explanation. Which I know I do not!

  “I could have, I had a fiancée but I left him.”

  “Emmy, it’s okay.” He puts his hands up in defense. “You don’t owe me any explanations. Look, how about I make you a deal, we go to Darling Harbour.”

  “I told you, Gabe –”

  “Hear me out, I have a way you can keep on your precious schedule and we still get to stop.”

  “Right, what is this marvelous plan you have come up with, please, enlighten me.”

  “We can take turns sleeping and driving.”

  His idea may actually be a good one, if I were willing to let him behind the wheel, that is. I had met him merely four hours ago and already he was trying to convince me to throw all my careful planning out the window and let him drive my baby. Slowing in traffic, I eye him skeptically. If we didn’t stop overnight we might actually make up some lost time and won’t have to shell out for a room in some dingy hotel. We still had another couple of hours on the road ahead of us, at least so I still had time to mull the idea over.

  “Come on, what do you say? We can stop and stretch our legs, get something to eat and be back on the road driving off into the sunset together within a couple of hours.”

  “Sightseeing is what tourists do, I’m not a tourist.” I argue with him.

  “Hang out then.”

  “We’re not friends so we don’t hang out.”

  “Geez, why do you have to be so argumentative about this, I get it, we’re not friends, you’ve got to get home to gush over how beautiful your little sister looks in her wedding dress and catch the bouquet so maybe it’s your turn next. You can still do all of those things even if we stop for an hour or two, refresh and get some food.”

  “Fine! We’ll stop for an hour. Sixty minutes max. Not a minute more. I’m serious, Gabe.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Em. We’ll need to get fuel at some point too.” Seeing the smile on his face was a kind of balm for the anxiety that was starting to swell by deviating from the plan. That dimple was almost enough to make me swoon. A smile and a dimple are all it took to break my resolve. I hope I wasn’t going to live to regret this.

  ~ CHAPTER THREE ~

  The hustle and bustle of Sydney were amazing, it was more thrilling than I ever expected it could be or admit to Gabe at this moment in time. For the last hour, we had been crawling our way into the city. Weaving and making our way through the traffic. Seeing the bridge for the first time and Gabe is giddy with exciteme
nt next to me.

  “Isn’t it amazing, Em?

  The afternoon sun was glistening on the harbour below us, I had to admit Gabe was right, it did look pretty spectacular. There were so many sailboats, in a whole kaleidoscope of colours and different sizes darting between the ferries that were crossing from one side of the harbour to the other.

  Gabe points above us where there are people climbing the bridge, “We should totally do that, don’t you think it would be fun?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s like really,” Craning my neck I can barely see the top arch of the bridge. “High.”

  “Yeah, it is. Can you imagine the view from up there?”

  “Gabe, I’m not climbing the bridge. No way, not ever. Besides, I can’t afford it. It would be stupidly expensive.”

  “You sure about this Emmy, it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity to do this with me.”

  Eyeing him skeptically again, there is no trepidation in my voice. “Not going to happen. That is so not my idea of fun.”

  “What does Emerson do for fun then?”

  I consider how to answer his question; once upon a time I had thought Mark’s hobbies were my cabin over Christmas, golf or tennis at the country club where his family were members, dinner at overpriced restaurants and brunches at their estate. It had taken me a long time to realise they weren’t things I thought of as fun either, so now, I had no idea if a bridge climb was my idea of fun. I had come to discover there were a lot of little things I was beginning to take joy in, and coincidentally these were the things Mark would have made a snide remark over or turned his nose up at.

  “Music festivals, reading a good book or watching the sunset on the horizon are my ideas of fun. Going to a museum or art gallery, it doesn’t even have to be a Picasso or Rembrandt exhibition, it could be some small time unknown artist. You don’t have to be someone famous to produce something magical and amazing.”

  Glancing over at Gabe I get the impression he isn’t listening to me, his focus on the phone in his hand. I realise I was wrong when he looks up at me with a smile on his face.

  “If we hustle we can make it to the Art Gallery of New South Wales before it closes.”

  Shocked I’m unable to speak for a moment, he had been searching for us to do something that I would enjoy, dismissing the idea of the bridge climb for now.

  “Gabe,” my voice comes out a little hoarse, sounding completely foreign to me, touched by his thoughtfulness. “We don’t have to do that.”

  “It could be fun, we can pretend to be snooty art collectors and pick out one piece to add to our extensive collection we have already in our ridiculously oversized mansion. What do you say?”

  I laugh, it does sound like fun. “Yeah, okay.”

  We park within walking distance of the museum. Climbing the steps, Gabe takes my hand. The smile on his face almost causes me to misstep. Gabe tightens his hold on my hand and I manage to stay upright.

  “You okay?” His voice is filled with concern.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  The pillars outside the building tower above us, presenting as a grand entrance to the gallery. Inhaling deeply I do my best to absorb this moment with as many senses as possible. Gabe’s cologne invades my nostrils, his scent is a gentle combination of cypress and musk.

  Inside my jaw drops, I feel like I have stepped into a Grecian scene with pillars made from marble, but my hopes of seeing some half naked man with a palm leave are dashed as Gabe pulls me along to the admissions counter.

  I wrestle to free my purse from within my bag hanging from my hip. Gabe’s hand covers mine. “I insist, save your money for the ridiculously priced artwork you are going to buy my darling. This is my treat.” Gabe rushes in front of me to pay my admission fee.

  Our steps echo across the floor as we make our way further into the museum. Inside the first room, Gabe again takes me by the hand. There is another couple in the room, standing close together whilst speaking in hushed tones.

  Speaking loud enough for the other couple to hear, Gabe speaks in a terribly put-on accent. “I don’t know, darling, I suppose you could be right, this would look good next to the Edvard Munch but I think it would look better in the library with the Dali.” With a little squeeze of my hand, he winks at me.

  “Oh the Dali, of course you’re right. Whatever was I thinking?” Putting on my own accent I try not to laugh at how preposterous we sound.

  We ignore the sideways glances the other couple is giving us and rush on through the rest of the room, pausing momentarily to make thoughtful noises at some of the other pieces hanging on the walls. We continue to wander through until we are met by one of the security.

  “Sir, we’re coming close to closing time. Please make your way back toward the exit.” The guard addresses Gabe directly, his tone is a matter of fact and quite rude if you asked me, which he didn’t.

  “It appears, darling, that we are being asked to leave. Wait until your father hears about this, I’m sure he will reconsider his very large donation to this establishment in the future.” Gabe twiddles his imaginary moustache between his index finger and thumb whilst resting his hand on the small of my back to usher back through the building, his thumb absently rubbing over a small section of my t-shirt.

  “Emmy, I just got to take care of something, meet you outside?”

  “You’re not going to try to steal a painting, are you? Jail time would seriously interfere with getting home on time.”

  Gabe chuckled, “No, little boys room.”

  “Oh.”

  Outside the sun is still beating down, the temperature had noticeably dropped due to the clouds streaming across the blue sky but it was still nice. The area had a lot of after-work foot traffic passing on the path outside. Everyone looked like they were in such a rush, feeling sad I wondered if they’d even noticed how beautiful the day was.

  Gabe’s arm wrapping around my waist made me smile, “Darling, how about we get some champagne and caviar and sit down on the waterfront whilst we choose which yacht we are going to buy next?”

  “Change the champagne to a diet coke and the caviar to a juicy steak and you just may have yourself a deal.” I say, smiling up at him.

  Leaving the car parked but feeding the meter, we immerse ourselves in the foot traffic as we stroll the city blocks to Darling Harbour.

  “It feels like we’re in a different time, with all the old gothic architecture. Can you imagine what it looks like at night, like a whole different world. It would be spectacular.” I gush over the archaic cathedral with its pillars and walls made of stone, illuminated it would look like a Princess’s palace from a fairy tale.

  “Come on, Em.” Skipping down the steps I join Gabe back on the street. It felt natural to lace our hands together again as we strolled. “So your sister’s wedding hey, you must be looking forward to getting home?”

  “I guess, for the most part. I haven’t seen my family for six or so months, so getting home to a proper bed and a bathroom with a proper lock does have its own appeal. I miss my little sister the most.”

  “Do you like the guy she’s marrying?”

  “Yeah, he seems great and he makes her happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted for her.”

  “So what’s the other part that you’re not looking forward to?”

  “Also the wedding, but for different reasons,” Glancing at him sideways I wonder if it’s just small talk he’s making or if there was another reason for the questions. Sighing, I explain further, “My ex will be there. His and my families are old friends; I haven’t spoken to him since I broke our engagement.”

  “Not even once? No text message, email, nothing?”

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  His voice is gentler when he speaks again, “I’m sorry, no it’s not but if you were mine and you broke up with me I wouldn’t give up on you that easily.”

  “Well, I guess you and he are different then.” I had begun to realise exactly how true that was, Mark
and Gabe were as different as night and day. Never would Mark have taken me to an art gallery or plan something that was about my interests. He’d had all the control in the relationship and naively I had always gone along with it.

  “How long were you together?”

  “Four years, eleven months and about thirty-four days. I gave him back his ring on the night before our five year anniversary and I’m not ashamed to admit that it was the most freely feeling I’ve ever had in my life so far. I went home, told my parents Mark and I weren’t getting married, much to the tsking and disappointment of my mother. Can you believe she was more concerned about the fallout from her relationship with his parents than the reasons behind my decision? I called Amelia and told her that I was leaving the next day. We cried a little, but she understood, she always has understood me. She knew Mark didn’t make me happy,” I volunteer. “I loaded up my car in the morning and quit my job on the way out of town, my mother reminded me how irresponsible that was but it didn’t make me change my mind about leaving.”

  “That was incredibly brave of you, Emmy. Most people would have just gone along with the plan, married and lived miserably ever after.” He squeezes my hand in reassurance.

  “That was just over six months ago. I am already dreading the reception when I get home, Amelia will be her amazing self but my mum, a whole different kettle of fish.”

  “What does your dad say about any of this?”

  “Not much, he doesn’t like to rock the boat. He doesn’t care too much for Mark’s family but he loves my mother and goes along with whatever she says. That kind of relationship isn’t for me and is exactly what I would’ve been marrying into.”

  “Best decision you ever made, this road trip. Otherwise, maybe we would never have met.”

  I bump shoulders with him, “You’re probably right, kid.”

  The harbour was even better close up, the smell of the salt water was refreshing and the sun warmed our skin whilst glistening on the water below the boardwalk.