The Peppercorn Project (12 page)

It was time for Isabelle to restock her pantry. Since Leah and the local women had arrived and filled her cupboard and fridge with food and casseroles, Isabelle had only needed to pop into the shop every couple of days for staples. For three weeks she’d kept a low profile, but she realised it was finally time to get out of the house more than just the short walk to and from school with the kids every day. The last thing she wanted or needed was for people to start talking about her. She’d had enough of that to last a lifetime. She sighed. It was hard explaining to people that there were days she didn’t feel like talking to anyone.

Except Dan.

More than anything Isabelle wished she could talk to him. If only she could turn back time. But if she had the power to do so, how far back would she travel?

Isabelle’s thoughts drifted back a decade, to one sunny Saturday when she had stood on a cliff top in Anglesea overlooking the beach and recited her vows. A lone tear escaped and ran down her cheek at the hidden memory. Daniel. Her lover. The larrikin, all-Aussie surfer-boy she had fallen for. He could have starred on
Bondi Rescue
with his bronzed skin, wide smile that lit his entire face, and that sun-tousled hair, which fell across his eyes. He was forever flicking it back and grinning his trademark cheeky smile. She swallowed the thick lump in her throat. She missed him so much.

The kids had been back in school for over two weeks and Isabelle conceded she had made the right decision. Mietta was thriving, and while Fletcher wasn’t overly enjoying school yet, it was the best place for him. At least he was coming home talking about different things they did during the day and mentioning the names of a couple of boys he was friendly with. She had worried he wouldn’t make new friends as easily as Mietta.

She pulled up in front of the tiny supermarket – more a general store than a supermarket – parking between two filthy farm utes. A police four wheel drive was parked on the other side of the road. Her heart raced. Why was she so nervous? Blushing, she realised why. She wanted the police vehicle to belong to Matt, not Geoff. She hadn’t seen Matt since he’d appeared unexpectedly at her house the day they arrived in town, and she’d left for the farm before having a chance to thank him for helping.

The heat immediately assailed Isabelle as she stepped out of her car. Flies buzzed around her face and all thoughts of Matt evaporated. If it was this hot and it was only the beginning of November, she dreaded to think what the temperature was going to be like in January. Her little house would be like an oven. How would she cope without the afternoon sea breezes? The heat danced over the black surface, wrapping itself around her bare legs. The tar felt sticky under the thin soles of her shoes. It was a welcome relief to walk into the air-conditioned comfort of the shop.

Isabelle had just started down the first of the four narrow aisles when she caught sight of Matt. He was reaching up to retrieve something from the top shelf. The cuffs of his khaki police shirt were rolled up, and as he stretched they pulled back further to reveal a smattering of dark hair covering his thick forearms. The deeply tanned colour of his skin suggested years spent outdoors in the sun. Isabelle rubbed her bare arms as goose bumps danced across her skin. At least Matt was on the right side of the law – he wasn’t the kind of guy she’d want to meet on a dark night in a back alley.

Matt must have sensed her staring, because he slowly turned to face her. His eyes flickered over her body from head to toe before his gaze connected with hers. A look of pleasure crossed his face, causing an unexpected frisson to travel down Isabelle’s spine. She shivered and rubbed her arms again. Why did he make her feel this way?

‘Hi, Matt.’

She gave a tentative wave, surprised when he strode down the aisle towards her, beaming. When he stopped right in front of her, Isabelle stepped back involuntarily, forgetting how big he was. He looked her over once again and she blushed. He was checking her out! Pulling her shoulders back, she jutted her chest forward and looked up, locking eyes with him, challenging him.

‘Did you get a good enough look?’ She tilted her head to one side and gave him what she hoped was her sweetest smile. In the back of her mind a little voice pinged. She was flirting.

Matt had the grace to blush and a look of guilt crossed his face. He lifted his Akubra and ran the sleeve of his shirt across his forehead to wipe away the tiny beads of sweat that had formed. Whether it was the warm weather or a case of nerves, Isabelle enjoyed making him squirm.

When he didn’t reply, she fixed him with another smile. ‘Did you like what you saw?’ Once again, her words stunned her. It was unlike her to be so forthright.

Matt shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced down at his feet before meeting her gaze again. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to stare. It’s just you look so—’

‘What?’ She raised her chin, challenging him with her eyes. ‘How do I look?’

He coughed nervously. ‘You look like you’ve lost weight.’

Momentarily speechless, Isabelle blinked. Searching for a sarcastic retort, she discovered she had nothing. The seconds stretched on until her eyes began to water. Another blink finally broke their eye contact. Isabelle unfolded her arms and let them hang limply at her sides. Her shoulders slumped.

‘Why is my weight of so much concern to everyone?’

He glanced into her trolley. ‘Um,’ he stammered. ‘I, er, I want to be sure you’re okay that’s all. Not sick or anything.’ He readjusted his hat. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

‘I can assure you, I’m not sick.’

He stared at her trolley. ‘Maybe you need to, um, eat more red meat or something?’

She raised her eyebrows.
Are you kidding me? He’s telling me what to eat!?

‘I don’t really eat much meat. I’m a part-time vegetarian, if there is such a thing. I’m not very strict – I’ll eat chicken – but I’m not a fan of red meat.’

Matt placed his basket on the floor beside him as though it was heavy in his arms, which, given his size, was impossible. He stared at her as if she had spoken another language. ‘How are you going to survive around here without eating red meat?’ He looked genuinely concerned.

Isabelle suppressed a giggle. ‘I’ve survived for years, thank you very much.’

‘But, beef, lamb, kangaroo – meat’s good for you.’ He gave her a crooked smile and she realised he was teasing.

‘Have you got anything against vegetarians personally, or is vegetarianism against South Australian law?’ she teased in return.

He shook his head, and his large dark brown eyes met hers again. He leaned down towards her and she felt heat rise through her chest and up her neck. The knowledge she was visibly blushing only added fuel to the fire. He seemed bigger than ever, towering over her.

‘You do realise you’ve moved to one of the best lamb-producing parts in the country, don’t you?’ His voice was low, like he was divulging a deep secret.

‘I have?’ Isabelle opened her eyes wide in mock horror and clamped her hand over her mouth, playing along.

‘Please tell me you’re going to show up at a barbie with tofu burgers?’ he asked, his voice still low, still stirring her.

The mocking tone made her laugh. She shook her head. ‘Definitely not.’

‘Just as bloody well,’ he replied seriously, before bursting out laughing. The rich sound tumbled around her. As well as gorgeous eyes and an incredible smile, he had a great laugh. Isabelle joined in with the laughter, relaxing.

‘So, why don’t you eat red meat?’

She shrugged. ‘I haven’t acquired a taste for it. My mother used to serve up roast lamb every Sunday when I was a kid. The cold grey meat and congealed gravy put me off.’ She shuddered theatrically.

He laughed then eyed her smugly. ‘I reckon I might have to change your mind then. I do a mean roast lamb.’

Isabelle smiled. ‘Is that so?’

‘How are you settling in then?’

The change of topic floored her. One minute they were joking and bantering, and the next he was seriously asking her how she was.

How am I?
How do I answer that?

Matt was staring at her, as though he genuinely wanted to know her answer, as though he was concerned, as though he cared. A small shiver went through her. The idea someone wanted to care for her scared her a little.

‘I’m doing all right, thank you,’ she answered. ‘I’m glad I bumped into you. I wanted to say how much I appreciated your help unloading the furniture. I haven’t seen you since—’ She stopped, realising she was gushing. Her face flushed at the intensity of his gaze.

‘My pleasure,’ he replied, clearly not sensing anything strange about her reaction to him. ‘And the kids? I’ve seen you walking them to and from school. How’s it going for them? It must be tough having to change schools.’

Once again, Isabelle appreciated his concern. ‘Mietta loves her teacher and she’s made new friends, but it hasn’t been as easy for Fletcher.’

Matt frowned, worry written across his face. ‘Why?’

‘He’s struggling a little, that’s all.’ She didn’t want to elaborate.

‘It’s a big change for your kids, moving interstate.’

Was he fishing for information? The fact he didn’t seem to know anything about her was surprising. Rachel had assured Isabelle they would maintain her confidentiality and not share details of Daniel’s death, but Isabelle hadn’t really expected any of them to respect her wishes. She figured, being a small town, everyone would know her story within minutes of her arrival. Strangely, that didn’t appear to be the case.

‘They’re fine, thanks. We’re all fine.’

Matt shuffled on the spot and picked up his shopping basket. He transferred it from one hand to the other awkwardly. ‘Well, I guess I’ll let you get going then,’ he said, allowing her room to pass him in the narrow aisle.

She called goodbye to him over her shoulder. As she was about to turn into the next aisle, Isabelle realised they were going to bump into each other down every aisle, which would be awkward. Instead, she pushed her trolley towards the register – she could return the next day to get the rest of the things on her list. It would give her another excuse to get out of the house.

*

‘Isabelle!’

Her head lifted. She eyed Matt warily as he loped across the road towards her. When he got closer he saw her swallow and lick her lips.

Bugger!
What was he doing? She was going to think he was stalking her.

‘I was wondering if you’d like me to come over one night and make you and the kids a roast.’ The words were out his mouth before he’d stopped to think. Isabelle paused for a second too long and he wished he’d just let her go. He tried to recover. ‘Or I could drop off a meal?’

‘I guess that’d be okay. The kids like lamb. When?’

‘Er,’ he stammered, running his hand across his chin. After her initial reaction, he hadn’t expected her to say yes. ‘How about tonight?’
What am I thinking?

‘Sure. Tonight sounds okay,’ she replied, with a non-committal shrug of one shoulder. ‘Saves me from having to cook.’

Just when Matt thought he’d overstepped the mark and made a fool of himself, Isabelle’s face broke into a smile and her blue eyes crinkled with laughter. ‘Are you the perfect man? Do you clean up after yourself too?’

Warmth flooded him. He liked her habit of teasing him. ‘I’m told I’m a SNAG,’ he joked in return.

Isabelle threw back her head and laughed.

He loved the sound of her laugh, loved the way she teased him, loved the way her long blonde hair tumbled down her back. He shook his head. He needed to pull himself together.

‘I haven’t heard that phrase in years,’ she said. ‘I do believe you’re showing your age, Constable!’

‘That’s Sergeant to you, Ms Cassidy,’ he said, still grinning. She made him feel like a school boy.

‘Whatever! But don’t come in uniform, okay? I don’t want Fletch to think he’s in trouble again.’

‘Again?’

Matt saw the shadow that crossed her face. What was it? Wariness or worry?

‘What’s been going on? I haven’t heard of any trouble.’

Matt was usually the first to know when kids stepped out of line at school. Rachel always made sure she kept him up to date on which kids needed a gentle reminder from the men in blue.

Isabelle hesitated and glanced around the empty street. She obviously needed to talk, but the timing wasn’t right. Nor was the place.

She shrugged. ‘As I said, it’s no big deal. He’s not in any trouble. He’s having difficulties settling into a new school – both with making new friends and with Rachel. She’s his teacher. They got off on the wrong foot and things haven’t improved. I figure Fletcher’s behaviour is more due to embarrassment. The whole thing with the croissants wasn’t the best way to make a good first impression.’

Matt groaned and scratched his head. ‘Again, I’m
really
sorry about that.’

‘Forgiven and forgotten from my point of view. Unfortunately I’m not sure if Rachel shares my perspective.’

‘I guess you’ll have to give it time,’ he said. ‘Fletcher seems like a good kid.’

She nodded. ‘He is. He made one stupid mistake, but Rachel can’t seem to move on and let it go.’

‘Do you want me to talk to her?’

‘No, please don’t say anything. I’m sure, as you said, it will all take time.’

‘If you need me to have a chat to Fletcher, I’d be happy to,’ he said softly.

‘No!’ Her reply was quick and short. ‘I don’t want him thinking I can’t handle it on my own.’

Matt made a mental note to call Rachel and find out what was going on. He sensed there might be more to the story than a new kid not fitting in. ‘You don’t have to do things on your own, Isabelle.’

‘You don’t have to call me that.’

He frowned at the abrupt change of topic. ‘I don’t have to call you what?’

‘Isabelle.’

‘But that’s your name.’

‘My friends call me Issie.’ She gave him a warm smile.

‘I didn’t want to be presumptuous. And besides, I happen to think Isabelle suits you.’

What he didn’t say was that he wanted to call her Belle.
Beautiful Belle.
He shook his head again to clear the soppy thoughts invading his usually sensible brain.