The Wedding Promise

The girl’s cheeks had turned pink, and she seemed on the point of flight.

‘I was up in the attic,’ she said in a rush, ‘looking for boxes...for packing...and I found this.’

‘This’ was a mouse trap! Somehow Sara managed to keep her face straight. ‘Just what I need!’ She took the trap, gave a dainty shiver. ‘I’m such a coward when it comes to mice. A lion, now...if I saw one of those in the bathroom, I’d just grab a back scrubber and attack with gusto!’

The girl giggled. ‘Oh, yeah, sure...’

‘Would you like to come in...have a cup of coffee?’

‘I don’t drink coffee.’

‘Iced tea, then, or a pop?’

‘No, thanks.’ Her gaze trailed wistfully over Sara’s sweater. ‘That’s a Sally Cole original, isn’t it? They’re way cool...my friend Chrissie’s mom has one; she bought it years ago but she says you can’t get them any more.’ She sighed. ‘Well, I’d better get back...’

‘Ah, yes, the packing.’

‘We’re going to sell. The house and the cottage. Everything. My dad’s putting the property up for sale.’

‘I guess you’re in a hurry to go back and help him, then. Many hands make light work, don’t they say?’

‘Well, he’s upstairs and I’m not actually helping him this morning. He’s clearing out Mom’s things—I thought he’d want to do that on his own.’

A chill prickled Sara’s nape as she heard the catch in the young voice, saw the quickly blinked-back tears in the luminous brown eyes. She wanted to reach out to the child, but without warning the slight figure whirled away and ran off, taking a short cut over an overgrown rosebed. To Sara’s horror, she tripped on a tangled root, and fell forward, to land in a crumpled heap on the ground.

Sara rushed to help her get up, but as the girl put her weight on her right foot she winced and grabbed onto Sara for support.

‘I’ve done something to my ankle,’ she said with a half-sob. ‘It really hurts.’

‘Come inside and—’

‘Thanks...but I’d rather go home. Will you help me walk back? I don’t think I can do it on my own.’

‘Of course. Here, put your arm around my neck.’ Sara grimaced. ‘I haven’t even asked you your name,’ she said as she braced herself to support the slender figure.

‘It’s Andrea. Andrea Beth Hunter.’

‘Andrea. That’s pretty. I’m Sara Wynter.’

‘Miss Wynter, I—’

‘It’s Mrs Wynter, actually, but please call me Sara.’

They started up towards the house, with Andrea hopping erratically on her left leg, and leaning heavily on Sara.

‘Mrs Wynter, I...um...saw you with Zach Grant.’

Sara hid a smile as she heard the wistful note in Andrea’s voice. So... a fan. ‘Yes, he brought me here. I wish he could’ve stayed longer, but he’s—’

‘He’s filming in Vancouver. I know. My friend Chrissie and I—we’re members of his fan club. Will he...be coming back?’

‘He’ll be coming to pick me up in a couple of weeks. Then shortly after he’ll be returning to Los Angeles. He lives there...but of course—’ Sara smiled ‘—you’ll already know that.’

She was heading for the front door, but Andrea said, ‘Let’s use the side door. I don’t want Dad to hear me come in...if he sees me hopping like this...well, he’s a regular old fusspot!’

‘But you’ll have to tell him about your ankle—’

‘Oh, I will. But first I’ll put an ice pack on it. There’s a bag of green peas in the freezer; I’ll use that.’

On reaching the side door, Sara tugged it open, and they entered what turned out to be a small sitting room.

‘The kitchen’s across the hall from here,’ Andrea said.

Sara noticed her face had become very white. ‘Come sit down on this sofa and put your leg up while I get the ice.’

After a token protest, Andrea allowed herself to be helped onto the sofa, where she lay back, her eyes closed. ‘There’s a bottle of aspirin in one of the drawers,’ she said huskily. ‘Could you bring me a couple?’

‘Of course.’

From above came the sound of someone moving about.

‘That’s Dad,’ Andrea offered with a weak gesture of one hand. ‘He’s packing in the master bedroom. Like I said...’ Her voice trailed away.

Sara hurried to the kitchen, and found the bag of peas in the freezer section of the fridge. Locating the aspirin wasn’t so easy. She pulled out drawer after drawer, riffled through the tidy contents of each one, and had reached the last, in a cabinet at the far end of the kitchen, when she heard Logan Hunter’s voice come from the doorway behind her.

‘What the hell,’ he said in a tone of quiet menace, ‘are you doing in my house?’

She put a hand to her throat as she swivelled round, and threw him a shaky smile. ‘You startled me! I’m just looking for—’

‘What you’re looking for, and what you’re going to get, lady, is trouble. You’ll find nothing else here. I don’t keep money stashed in the kitchen, and if you’re looking for drugs in that medicine cabinet you’ve come to the wrong place—’

‘Daddy!’ Horror filled the voice that came from behind Logan. ‘Don’t! Mrs Wynter came to help me—’

Sara looked beyond Logan as he spun round, and saw Andy hopping along the carpeted hallway in her bare feet, bracing her hand against the wall with each jerky hop.

‘Andy? What the—?’ Logan sounded shocked.

‘I fell, Dad, and twisted my ankle, or sprained it or something. I had to ask Mrs Wynter to help me back to the house, and then she offered to get me an ice bag and some aspirin.’ Face ashen, Andrea started to slump, and would have slid to the floor if her father hadn’t moved fast.

He scooped her up in his arms and, muttering under his breath, took off with her in the direction of the small sitting room, leaving Sara standing alone in the kitchen, feeling limp as a wet rag herself.

Her hand shook as she put the aspirin bottle on the countertop. It shook as she set down the frozen peas beside the aspirin. And by the time she had poured a glass of cold water from the tap, and placed it by the peas, her whole body was trembling.

The man, she decided with a rising tide of anger, was an ogre...and he certainty didn’t deserve to have a daughter as sweet as Andrea.

She hoped the child was going to be all right.

But, either way, she herself was going to avoid both father and daughter, for the rest of her time on the island.