The Chocolatier's Secret (Magnolia Creek, Book 2) Page 7

  Ellie was an eight-year-old with a heart of gold but with learning difficulties, which meant she’d fallen further and further behind her peers. She had mild autism, which hadn’t been picked up until she’d started school, and Gemma was determined her light would shine as brightly as any other child’s in the class. Kids weren’t moulded like the chocolates at the shop, they weren’t labelled with standard ingredients. Kids came in all different shapes and sizes, so did their minds and their personalities, their quirks.

  Bridget found a cup and a teabag, and Gemma poured the water for both of them.

  ‘I can see she’s blossoming with you,’ said Bridget.

  Ellie hadn’t had the easiest of times. She’d been in and out of foster care for the first couple of years of her life and was eventually adopted when she was four years old. The child needed stability, and Gemma would do her utmost to at least give it to her in the school environment.

  ‘Your qualifications jumped out at me the first time I saw your résumé, Gemma.’ Bridget sat down on the sofa beside her. ‘We’ve needed someone like you on the team for a while.’

  Gemma beamed. ‘I’m so happy to be here.’ She’d always wanted to be a teacher, and her high school work experience at a primary school had eventually led to studying a Bachelor of Education (Special Education).

  ‘So tell me, how’s the chocolaterie going?’ Bridget sipped her tea. ‘You and your husband are like angels sent from heaven … you with your teaching skills, him with the heavenly chocolate.’

  ‘You’ll start drooling in a minute.’

  ‘I can’t help it. Bella’s café was bad enough, and those scones she makes are to die for, but a chocolate shop is something else.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll be sure to pass on the compliment to Andrew. It’s going well and we love the town.’

  ‘I have a soft spot for it myself.’

  ‘Emerald is beautiful too.’ Bridget lived in a pretty country house in Emerald, a thirty-minute drive away at the top of a little hill. It was secluded and surrounded by bush, and on the couple of occasions Gemma had visited her there, she’d loved the tranquillity almost as much as Magnolia Creek.

  ‘Emerald is home,’ said Bridget. ‘But don’t ever open a chocolate shop there or I’ll have to start one of those crazy boot camps to keep the kilos off!’

  Gemma tapped her wedding rings against her mug as they sat.

  ‘Something troubling you?’ asked Bridget.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Er … the irritating way you’re doing that.’ She nodded to Gemma’s hands clasped around her mug as the rings tap-tapped again.

  Gemma’s hands stilled. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Are you worried about Louis?’

  Gemma had been juggling her times at school more than she would’ve liked, and Bridget had been utterly fabulous about it all. And now she’d need more time off with the upcoming operations for her husband and father-in-law.

  Gemma lowered her voice. ‘We’re worried about Louis, but we’re also trying to have a family.’

  Bridget matched Gemma’s hushed tones. ‘Maybe it’s the worry over Louis. Stress can sometimes hamper the baby-making process.’

  Gemma’s face told the other woman it was far more complicated. ‘We’ve been trying for a while, and I’ve had a few miscarriages.’

  ‘Gemma, I didn’t realise. Trust me to put my great big foot in it.’

  ‘I don’t tell anyone because I try to deny there’s anything wrong. I tell myself something wasn’t right with the baby so this is for the best. I tell myself that next time … next time it’ll work and it’ll stick, the baby will grow happily inside me for nine months and all this pain will be worth it.’ She swiped a single tear daring to start its way down her apple cheek.

  Bridget put down her mug and patted Gemma’s arm. Thankfully the staffroom was empty now except for them, everyone else having eaten as soon as the bell had gone.

  Gemma pulled a tissue from the pocket of her cotton trousers and blew her nose. ‘This morning we chatted to the doctor about IVF. Although God knows where we’re going to fit it in, with Louis’ dialysis, the operations.’

  After a moment, Bridget said, ‘How’s Andrew taking all this?’

  ‘You know, I forget that every time I miscarry, he’s losing a child as well. He’s desperate to become a dad, I know he is, but he doesn’t tell me, not any more.’

  ‘It must be putting a strain on you. I’m here if you need to talk,’ she added with a glance at the clock that told them they’d better ready themselves for the end of lunchtime and the start of the school afternoon.

  A problem shared was supposed to be a problem halved, but right now Gemma felt as though their family troubles could only be reduced in size if a massive meteorite fell from outer space and landed right in the middle of them.

  *

  When Andrew arrived home that evening, covered in chocolate and powder from the shop, Gemma was at the stove preparing a soft caramel to use to fill truffles at the shop the next day. As the caramel mixture came to the boil, she removed it from the heat and turned to hug her husband.

  ‘I’m filthy!” He laughed but pulled her into him.

  Gemma kept her head resting in the crook of his neck, breathing against his skin. She didn’t care if he was dirty. The sweet scent of chocolate intoxicated her, and it was the smell of home, of comfort and security.

  Andrew pulled back, and she brushed chocolate powder from the front of her top. He held a hand to the side of her face. ‘How was your afternoon?’

  ‘Good, and yours?’

  ‘Busy as always.’

  Andrew was his usual calm self, and Gemma wondered how he did it. How was he able to remain so composed rather than fretful about everything happening in their lives all at once? She poured cream into the hot liquid in the pan and stirred it through. Without looking at her husband, she said, ‘I know this whole baby-making plan must be taking its toll on you, but please don’t stop talking to me. Please.’

  He hugged her from behind. ‘Of course I won’t.’

  The cream had disappeared into the liquid by now, but she didn’t move. She stayed in his arms. He was still hugging her as she chopped butter into cubes and stirred it until it’d melted.

  Louis knocked at the back door like he always did before he came in. ‘Not interrupting, am I?’ he asked.

  ‘Dad, come in.’ Andrew was at his side straight away, but Louis swished his arm away, declaring he wasn’t completely useless. At least not yet. It was baby steps with Louis. He’d agreed to let them help by arranging the kidney transplant, but he wasn’t about to let them do anything else before he had to, no matter how small.

  Gemma made them all a cup of tea and added milk to hers and Andrew’s. She tried not to stare at her father-in-law, who seemed to have aged another ten years in the space of twenty-four hours. He looked so tired, the skin sallow and sagging around his eyes, the pallor of his face ghost-like. His fingers were more swollen than usual, and with his breathing came a wheezing sound she hadn’t heard before. It seemed to echo around the quiet kitchen today as she watched father and son lift their mugs at the same time, form the same rounded shape with their lips to blow across the scalding liquid. Next to one another, Louis looked like Andrew except the fast forward button had been hit and wound ahead a couple of decades.

  ‘I always thought it’d be my mind to go first,’ said Louis.

  Gemma sipped her tea. ‘Before your kidneys?’

  ‘I don’t work, I hate those crosswords or sudoku things Penny would lose herself in for an afternoon. Not using your brain is supposed to be very bad.’

  Andrew was quick to correct him. ‘You use your brain all the time. It’s not like you’ve been sitting around staring at the TV. You’re always chatting, thinking about the chocolaterie, helping me introduce new ideas. Your mind is that of a twenty-year-old.’

  ‘Oh dear, let’s hope that’s not true!’ Louis chuckled.

  The
laughter warmed Gemma right through as Louis reminisced with his son about some of the best chocolates they’d thought of over the years. It never took them long to get onto their favourite topic in the world. Everything from the chocolate replica of dog poo for Halloween to the Willy Wonka Golden Ticket they’d made for World Book Day. The laughter reminded Gemma of the first time she’d met Louis and Penny Bennett. Andrew had been asked to look after his parents’ house and their dog, Bill, when they went away to Adelaide. Andrew had gone all out with the romance factor, seeing as they’d only been dating for a month, and he’d lit candles, made a roaring log fire, wined and dined her. One thing led to another, and they were almost naked on the rug in front of the fire when Louis and Penny had pushed open the lounge door. They’d flown home a day earlier than Andrew had expected. All four people had frozen, shock on their faces, and Louis and Penny had scarpered from the room as quickly as the passion had disappeared. And then all Andrew and Gemma could hear were his parents absolutely wetting themselves laughing, echoing around the entire house, and before long they were laughing too. It was certainly one way to get quickly acquainted with her in-laws. Gemma had made Louis promise not to mention the way they’d met in any future family gatherings, and so far he’d been a man of his word.

  ‘I never thought I’d have to resort to taking a kidney from my own son,’ said Louis when they’d finished talking about the supply of Easter eggs Andrew needed to provide for Magnolia House.

  ‘Dad, we’ve talked about this. It’s the only way.’ Andrew could be firm with his father when he wanted to be.

  ‘It’s too much to ask.’

  ‘You’re not asking, I’m telling.’

  ‘I’m scared, son. Scared for us all.’

  Gemma put a hand on his shoulder. ‘We’re all in this together and we’ll be fine.’ She was reassuring herself as much as the two of them. ‘In this family we stick together and this is no different to anything else that’s come our way.’

  ‘This is short-term pain for both of us, Dad,’ said Andrew. ‘And it could buy you a lot longer with us. We need you around.’

  Andrew put his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers together the way he often did when he was concentrating on a big order for the chocolate business and contemplating the logistics of it all. ‘It’s only a few more weeks to wait, Dad. We’ve got time to get more plans in place. Then, when it’s done, we can all move forward.’

  Gemma tipped her cup back to get the remains of her tea. ‘How are your feet?’ She nodded towards the new navy slippers she’d bought him. Lately his feet had been swollen more than usual, one of the first signs he was deteriorating.

  ‘They feel better today, since I’ve rested.’

  ‘Do you think you’d still be able to manage short walks down by the lake?’

  Louis nodded. ‘There’s life in me yet. I’ll take it slow, but I don’t want to miss the beauty of autumn.’

  Gemma touched Andrew’s knee beneath the table, and he found her hand. He was close to his father. His siblings had both left home and Melbourne years ago. Daryl lived in London, and Kirsten lived in Italy. Both had young families, and although they visited they weren’t a huge part of Louis’ life any more. Gemma guessed it happened with distance. But Andrew had always been by his side. It wasn’t forced, it wasn’t like he felt it was his duty, it had happened naturally.

  Louis gulped back the rest of his tea. ‘I’ll leave you kids to it.’ Gemma put her arm out to steady him as he got to his feet. ‘Thank you.’ He didn’t decline the help this time but motioned Andrew away when he tried to walk him out to the annexe.

  ‘Breakfast in the morning?’ Gemma called after Louis. She usually laid out a proper breakfast at the weekend, with the tablecloth, the best cutlery, a selection of foods adapted especially for Louis: fruit, oatmeal, waffles.

  ‘I’ll be here.’ Louis smiled over at her before he shuffled out the back door and down the path bordered with lemon trees.

  ‘You know, I can’t ever remember Dad being unwell when I was growing up,’ Andrew began when Gemma sat down again. ‘He must’ve had common colds like everyone else, but I honestly can’t remember a day when he was ever too sick to work, ever too sick to look after us all.’

  Gemma’s hand stretched across the table to Andrew’s. ‘It’s easier said than done, but both of you need to stay strong and try not to worry.’

  ‘I’m strong, Dad’s strong, but I’m scared. I’d never admit it or Dad would back away from the operation, I know he would.’

  ‘This is the best shot at him living a good life for plenty of years to come. You heard the doctor,’ said Gemma. ‘Live transplants are statistically better than donor kidneys.’

  ‘Let’s hope so.’ Andrew moved to the sink and poured the dregs of his tea down the plughole. ‘Thanks for making the caramel mixture for the shop.’

  ‘No worries,’ said Gemma.

  They left their mugs in the sink. Gemma turned off the kitchen lights and then followed Andrew upstairs, holding the bottom of his T-shirt. Usually, when he finished work, she’d chat with him as he took a shower, hand him a glass of wine that he’d drink as he tried to keep it out of the line of the jets, but tonight he went into the bathroom without the cheeky look back he usually gave her, without the sexy wink which sometimes led to her jumping in the shower with him. Gemma put a hand to her belly, wondering what it would be like to carry his baby, carry it to term and feel the first flutters and kicks inside her. She longed to raise a child and have this almighty, indestructible bond with them, like the bond between Andrew and Louis.

  When Gemma climbed into bed that night, moving closer to Andrew, her hand on his upper arm and her breath on his back, she hoped Andrew would do as he’d promised and keep talking to her, keep their lines of communication open.

  And she hoped they were strong enough to fight any more battles to come their way.

  Chapter Ten

  Andrew

  Andrew woke early to the sounds of a kookaburra announcing the beautiful morning in Magnolia Creek. The bird had taken up position on the back fence hidden by the creamy white sprays of a Fiddlewood tree.

  Unable to get back to sleep, Andrew saw the opportunity to do some admin work for the chocolaterie. He uploaded the latest photos for the upcoming Easter celebrations to their Facebook page. He’d devised a thick milk chocolate egg with the words Happy Easter piped in looping letters on one half of the shell, and around the edges he’d piped lilac flowers and miniature green leaves. An idea of Louis’ had been to make half an Easter egg in really thick milk chocolate and then they’d concocted different designs for eggs to be arranged in the centre of it. They had a gold-lustre egg, a speckled egg, eggs in white and dark chocolate. Their corporate brochure had already been sent out to customers showing these designs, but having Facebook got the ideas out there to families, tourists and corporate clients.

  After he’d posted the photos, he responded to a few comments from customers. They were in the early days of building up their customer base out here in Magnolia Creek, but Magnolia House used their products and had turned out to be a bit of a local launch pad for the chocolaterie. They’d already had some big orders from the surrounding suburbs following the success of the chocolate fountain supplied for the wedding, and Andrew hoped there would be more.

  He posted an advert for the Easter Egg Hunt he’d been roped into. On Good Friday, the event would be held in the beautiful grounds of Magnolia House and money raised from ticket sales would go to the Magnolia Creek Fire Station, which was a one-hundred per cent volunteer run station. Funds would support training, maintenance on vehicles and allow the station to update their radios and keep everything running smoothly for the entire town’s benefit. Andrew was to supply ten thousand eggs plus a raffle prize, which would be a giant milk chocolate Easter egg filled with individually wrapped chocolate bunnies – Louis’ idea – and Stephanie had come up with the packaging solution to present it in the best way.

/>   With the admin tasks done for now, Andrew sat back and picked up one of the IVF leaflets he hadn’t yet read. The impersonal nature of all the information was hard to get his head around, let alone reach the stage where he wanted to sign up for any of it. But he wanted and needed to do this for Gemma. He wished he could wrap her up and protect her from a world of hurt rather than be the cause of it.

  He pinched the top of his nose tightly. Gemma dreamed of a family, he dreamed of a family. How was he going to tell his wife he already had a grown-up child?

  Andrew had every intention of going back to join his wife in bed now the kookaburra had moved on to annoy someone else, to cuddle Gemma and whisper in her ear that everything would be fine, but somehow, instead, he opened up Julia’s message, and before long he found his fingers gliding over the keys as memories of more than three decades eclipsed everything else.

  He didn’t hold back. He’d been patient long enough. He asked her straight out what the hell had happened back then. He asked her why she hadn’t told him about the baby, why she hadn’t let him help. He told her he understood how painful this must be, but he was in pain too. He wanted to know whether his daughter was okay. Was she happy? Did she hate them for what had happened? He wondered what she looked like: did she look like Julia? Did she look more like him? Was she a made-up version of the both of them? ‘Please, find it in your heart to tell me what happened all those years ago,’ he wrote. ‘I at least deserve that.’

  He didn’t sign his name. He didn’t put a smiley face or a kiss, as seemed so popular these days. There was no emoticon to convey how he felt: washed out, drained, no idea which way to turn.

  When Gemma called out to say breakfast was ready, he realised how long he’d been staring at the screen, trying to find the appropriate words … words which wouldn’t scare Julia away but words that felt fair on the both of them.

  He closed down Facebook after his message went off into cyberspace and joined his wife and dad downstairs.