Tree Change Read online

  Tree Change

  Tea Cooper

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Tree Change

  Copyright© 2012 Tea Cooper

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-857-9

  Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

  Editor: Haleigh Rucinski

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Writing a novel was one of those “one day” things—

  finally I stopped procrastinating and did it.

  My heartfelt thanks to everyone who encouraged me to

  pursue my dream,

  especially Poppy who walked every step of the way.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cassia reached up with shaking fingers and pushed the stray tendrils of hair from her face as she stared at her mobile phone. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath and keyed in the number, her fingers striking the familiar pattern from memory.

  Come on, Jake, pick up. Come on…

  He had to pick up, even though he had good reason not to. She opened her eyes and glared at the phone. Perhaps if she hadn’t ignored every single one of his calls and e-mails for the last eighteen months, blocked him out, he might answer. She tapped the screen. This was important; he’d understand—she hoped. He had to pick up.

  Her stomach clenched as his voice sounded in her ear, and then she relaxed. A reprieve. The recorded message postponed the dreaded moment.

  “Hi! You’ve reached Madeleine and Jake. We’re not here right now. Leave a message, and we’ll call you back as soon as we can.”

  His voice still sounded the same. In fact, the message was exactly the same as it had always been, except now it said, “Madeleine and Jake,” and not “Cassia and Jake.”

  The beep of the machine caught her unawares.

  Message.

  She had to leave a message.

  “Um…hello, Jake. It’s Cassia. I need to talk to you. Nothing important, but…actually it is very important. I have a deadline, and I need to—”

  “Cass.” His deep-timbered voice threw her completely off-balance, her mouth dried, and for a moment she was tongue-tied. “How’re you doing?”

  Cassia ran her tongue over her dry lips. “Jake.”

  Such a relief.

  “Hi.” He sounded friendly. Normal. Obviously, he didn’t hold the unreturned calls against her. He almost sounded as if he was pleased to hear from her. And why shouldn’t he be? Her move to the city had been her big break. She would never have been able to keep up the momentum and sales after her first exhibition if she hadn’t been in Sydney. He understood. She knew he did.

  “I’m good. I’m really good. It’s great to hear your voice. How about you?”

  “Good. Much better for hearing from you, though, knowing you’re okay.”

  Cassia tried to ignore the hammering in her chest. “Jake. I need a favor.” She swallowed, waiting for his reply, wondering if Jake knew why she had been ignoring him. Everything had become too difficult, and she just hadn’t been able to move from being his lover to his friend overnight. There were just too many unanswered questions. She had travelled that path and wasn’t about to do it again. Not unless he had finally found the answers to her questions.

  “I need to come to the Shack. Is it going to cause a problem?” She moistened her dry lips again. His answer was a long time coming. Maybe he’d been thinking, too, maybe he finally had some answers for her? Well, she didn’t have the time for them right now, not this time.

  “No, Cass. It’s not going to cause a problem. It never has. What can I do for you?”

  Get rid of Madeleine for a start.

  Cassia pressed her lips tightly together to hold back the words threatening to leap out of her mouth, annoyed she was getting sucked straight back into the old vortex. And this time she only had herself to blame.

  “I feel bad ringing up and asking you for something. We haven’t spoken for ages and—”

  Jake’s impatient sigh sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Cass, for goodness sake. How long have we known each other? If you can’t ask me for help, then who are you going to ask?”

  That was her problem. There was no one she could ask for help or for anything else for that matter. Besides, she didn’t want to. Jake was right, and he was the only one who could solve this particular problem. He was the only one with a large pile of driftwood leaning up against the back wall of his house.

  “I need the wood behind the house. It’s still there, isn’t it?” A wave of panic ricocheted through her. It hadn’t even occurred to her it might be not be there any longer. Then she really would be up the proverbial creek without a paddle. There was no way she could cover two life-sized metal horses with the few bits and pieces of driftwood she had lying around the studio.

  “It’s still here, babe.” The old term of affection caught her unaware, taking her back to a time she wasn’t prepared to revisit. She could picture Jake’s smile. His eyes would be all crinkled at the corners.

  “Actually, I’ve been adding to it. It will take a truck to get it all to you. How much do you need and how soon?”

  “All of it, as much as there is.” She couldn’t restrain the pride creeping into her voice. “My new exhibition opens in another month and—”

  “You’ve got another exhibition; that’s fantastic!” His voice was full of warmth and enthusiasm, making her realize how genuinely pleased he was for her. A blush of pleasure lit her face. His praise meant so much to her, even now.

  “And you need the timber for your latest work.”

  She cringed. “Yeah. You’re right. I’m only ringing because I need something.”

  “Cass, it’s fine. You know it is. How are we going to get the timber to Sydney, to your studio?”

  We? No. No we.

  “I’ll come up and get it. I’ll hire a car and a trailer, or a truck or something.”

  “No, you won’t!” She’d anticipated this. She knew he would be protective. “The road through the national park is really badly rutted after the rain, and the council isn’t due to grade it for another month or so. I’ll bring it to Sydney for you. I’ve got the trailer here, and it should fit if I use the back of the four-wheel drive as well.”

  “Jake, stop. I have to organize this, and I don’t know exactly what I am going to need. Let me drive up and see what’s…” Her voice trailed off. Maybe he didn’t want her to come to the Shack. Perhaps Madeleine didn’t want her there. “That’s okay with you, isn’t it? Or would you rather I didn’t?”

  “No, it’s fine.” He paused, for just a moment too long. “Let me call you back and tell you when it’ll be a good time. I’ve got to sort out a few things first.” She could feel him slipping away.

  Madeleine, definitely.

  “Okay. I’ll wait for your call. Anytime is fine for me. And thanks, Jake. Thanks a lot.”

  “No problem, Cass. Bye.”

  Cassia stood for a long moment, clasping the phone in her hand, and then quickly pushed it into the back pocket of her dungarees before she could clutch it to her heart. There, it hadn’t been too difficult, and Jake had seemed pleased to hear from her and pleased about her exhibition. He had always been supportive, so interested in her work. It had been one
of the best things about their relationship. Friendship was the basis of their relationship now, nothing more, nothing less. And friends helped each other.

  The phone vibrated in her pocket, and she pulled it out. Her finger traced the text message.

  “2mor fwm. cu <3”

  Tomorrow. Fine with me or…fine with Madeleine? Good question. Love you too.

  ***

  From his vantage point high on the cliff top, Jake could see Cassia across the beach, paddling through the shallow water as though she didn’t have a care in the world, bending occasionally to collect fragments from the sand. The cold water didn’t seem to bother her. She held her shoes in her hand as she danced through the shallows. He smiled at the picture she made, the sun silhouetting her long legs through her flimsy, bohemian skirt.

  A large wave surged up the beach, and Cassia was unexpectedly knee-deep in the foam. She tipped her head back, and her flaxen hair cascaded down her back. He laughed aloud as she skipped away from the tide line, then turned back to the ocean.

  Counting the waves.

  She was the only person he knew who followed the ridiculous belief that the seventh wave was always the biggest.

  Cassia! Welcome home.

  He drew a long, relaxing breath, unable to drag his eyes away from her, and he started down the path to the beach.

  God, she is beautiful!

  Her flawless skin was almost milk white from her time in the city, her body lithe and trim from working in her studio. He didn’t need to see her eyes; their dark, velvety depths haunted his dreams. Even from a distance, her charisma enveloped him—an innate sexiness she was totally unaware of that blended with her fey sense of belonging to the very ground she walked on.

  Take it easy, mate. Take it easy.

  He had to play this carefully, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. It had been difficult enough to stay away for the past eighteen months, to leave her in Sydney believing that their life together was over, but he owed his brother big time, and it would be sorted soon. The end was in sight.

  ***

  Cassia moved up the beach onto the dry sand, her feet cold and her skirt heavy and dripping, but she didn’t care. It was worth it just to feel sand instead of concrete under her feet. Picking up the corner of her skirt, she squeezed the brightly patterned fabric, wringing the water from the hemline. She headed toward the bush at the northern end of the beach where the national park ran down to the sand. Crossing from the high watermark to the dry sand, she avoided the tufts of spinifex grass. The warmth of the sand between her toes reminded her how long it had been since she had set foot on a beach.

  She ambled across the sand and absorbed the subtle changes to the beach as she followed the winding path through the rocks. She smiled.

  It’s still here!

  Her rock. Hollowed out by the wind and countless tides, it formed the perfect seat. She swept the curved depression with her hand, moving the accumulated sand and twigs, pleased in a perverse way no one else had been using it. She lowered herself into her spot and gazed out across the aquamarine water, the peace and serenity filling her.

  A fly buzzed past her, tickling her neck. She reached to swat it and froze as a deep voice whispered in her ear.

  “Hi, babe.”

  “Jake.” His name caught in her throat somewhere between the thumps radiating up from her chest.

  “You made it then?”

  Cassia turned slowly, studying the man who stood before her. She tried desperately to hold onto her composure. Had the last eighteen months changed him? Had Madeleine changed him? Her pulse quickened at the sight of his frayed jeans, bleached almost white by the sea and sand. He looked good…so good. Her gaze travelled up the length of his lithe body. Minute grains of sand were caught in the hairs on his tanned, muscled arms. “It’s good to see you, Jake.”

  Jake nodded, and a wing of sun-kissed hair fell across his forehead. Her fingers itched to reach up and brush it aside, but instead she let her gaze rest on his face. There were telltale signs of lines around his eyes. Were they laughter lines or was something worrying him?

  “Coming up?” His question interrupted her musing. He turned onto the track, not waiting for her response.

  Cassia followed him up the narrow path, memory guiding her feet. Every twist and turn, every rock and tussock of beach grass, shouted a reminder of their life together. Jake walked, as always, with one hand resting lightly behind his back. She itched to slip her hand into his, to feel the warmth and familiar comfort, but she knew she no longer had the right.

  They crested the sand dunes and paused for one last look at the ocean. The majestic horseshoe sweep of the beach, the rhythmic white curls of the rip waves, and the Pacific Ocean reached beyond the horizon to forever. This view was etched in her very soul. It was her father’s resting place.

  She glanced up. Jake stood, arms crossed against his chest, watching her with a proprietary air. His thick hair glinted in the sunlight, the copper and gold highlights catching the fading rays of the sun. Cassia raised her gaze to his and caught a glimmer of longing, as pure as her own. An extraordinary heat swept her entire body, and a jolt of utter joy rocked her. Then, just as quickly, she saw his eyes empty. The momentary glimpse replaced by apprehension and perhaps…regret. She swayed slightly, almost flinching as he pulled his gaze from her and looked back to the horizon.

  “Are you ready for this? Come on,” he said as he spun on his heel and walked away from her.

  The beach track had given way to sandstone steps. Her breath quickened as she walked up, regretting her daily cappuccinos and taxi rides. The steps leveled out, and she stood on a paved veranda.

  “Well, what do you think?”

  She gaped in amazement, flabbergasted by the unexpected transformation. She sucked in a breath, her eyes stretched wide as she attempted to take it all in. “It’s gone. Where’s our house? I mean, your house, the Shack.”

  “What do you think?” he asked again in a low, husky voice, raising one eyebrow and smiling lazily, his white, even teeth highlighted against his suntanned face. He rested his arm against the timber doorjamb, giving her a meaningful glance that made her bare toes curl.

  She clamped her lips together, still short of breath. She didn’t know if it was exertion or anticipation, but she was certain she knew what he was thinking, what he’d been remembering. She pushed the thoughts away. They belonged to another time, long gone. Stunned, Cassia stumbled past Jake through glass doors that seemed to slide apart of their own accord.

  “Where are we? What have you done? Where’s the Shack?”

  “This is the Shack. You’re standing in it. I decided it was time to reap the local real estate benefits. The auction is next week in the conference room at Taronga Zoo. The agents have several people interested. Mostly investors looking for a weekender to add to their portfolio.”

  She gasped. “A weekender? It’s more like a resort in Fiji. You’ve sold out, Jake. I thought this was our”—she shook her head, correcting herself—”your unspoiled place in paradise.”

  “Times change,” he said, cutting her short. He followed her through the huge sliding doors. “It’s time to move on.”

  Cassia was at a loss. She couldn’t believe the changes. If anyone had asked her, she would have described Jake as a committed environmentalist, someone violently opposed to the sprawling development crowding the coastline. She shook her head in bewilderment, trying to fathom what on earth would have made him change his mind. She glanced up at him and found his eyes challenging her, daring her to question him. Never one to back down, she couldn’t resist. “Jake, I don’t understand. I thought you wanted to preserve the coastline. Keep it unspoiled, natural?”

  He shrugged, turning up his hands in an expression of surrender. “I needed the money, and this seemed the best way to raise it.”

  She was confused, and his answer didn’t make sense. It was completely at odds with everything she knew about him. Not in her wildest nightmares
had she ever imagined he would sell out. She had spent hours—no, days, a lifetime—listening to him extolling the importance of a preserved environment, protected for future generations. Nothing on earth would have made him change his mind.

  “Where are you going to live?” Her question was almost plaintive. Somehow, she’d always imagined Jake and the Shack would be there, perched on the top of the cliff, like a sentinel, guarding her, keeping her safe and anchored.

  “I’m going to buy the macadamia farm.”

  “From your brother? Why? You hate the place as—” Her words dried in her throat. She knew the answer. Of course he was going to buy the family farm from his brother. It made perfect sense. Perversely, she had to pose another question, even though she didn’t want to contemplate the answer. “Where’s Madeleine?”

  “She’s not here at the moment.” He shuffled his bare feet on the highly polished timber decking.

  “Oh, I see.” Her response sounded lame even to her own ears, and she knew she shouldn’t have asked. It was none of her business. He’d made it perfectly clear when Madeleine had moved into the house. So he was going to buy the farm from his brother—compensation for poaching his girlfriend.

  “Do you want to have a look around?” he asked.

  The sheer size of the place made her dizzy. The end of the living room blended seamlessly into a dining room with the open, stainless-steel galley kitchen stretching along the back wall. The old home they had once shared would have fit into this one room. She was certain the old lean-to bathroom with its outside shower would have made way for a Jacuzzi or two by now. The image of him running back up to the house, his hair slicked back and his skin glistening with droplets of salt water, flashed through her mind.

  She blinked several times, trying to focus on the room, searching for something, anything familiar. One of her early sculptures hung against the end wall of the dining room, the soft colors of the polished, intertwined driftwood offset against the dark, taupe-gray feature wall. Her heart skipped a beat. He had kept it, or was it to be sold, too, part of moving on? It was a far cry from the bedroom where the huge wooden heart had originally hung.