Page 7 of Return to the Waratah Inn

He looked up at her with an arched eyebrow. “Uh-oh.”

She pressed her lips together, waiting a moment before speaking again. “A few months ago, I started the process to become foster parents. We talked about it…”

He straightened. “Once. We spoke about it once, Reeda.”

“I know, and I didn’t go through with it. The paperwork is started but now you’ve got to get involved — they want to interview us, do a background check and inspect the house.”

“I don’t know, Reeda. We’ve only recently got back on track with our marriage, and we’ve come to terms with not being able to have a baby. This might derail us all over again. I don’t want to risk that.”

“But you want children, don’t you?”

He padded into the walk-in wardrobe and got undressed, tossing his soiled outfit into the clothes basket. “I do want children, but we haven’t spoken of it since that one conversation after we got home from Italy.”

“Well, let’s discuss it now. What are your objections?”

“Like I said, I’m worried about our relationship.” He stood before her in his boxer shorts, his hair mussed, sunburned and with dust coating his face, arms, legs and in a V-shape on his neck where his shirt had been.

“That’s a valid point. But at least with fostering, it’s temporary. So, if we have foster children and it doesn’t work out, we can tell the agency, and they’ll move them somewhere else.”

He pressed his hands to his hips and looked her in the eye. “There’s no way we’d be able to do that. I know you too well… you’d never give them up voluntarily.”

“I don’t know if I would.” She shrugged. “But I really want to try this.”

“I need time to think,” he said. “And I have to shower. I really stink.”

“Take a shower, and I’ll book a restaurant for dinner. I’m sure you’re starving.”

“I’m beyond the point of starvation. Now I feel sick. I’ve had whatever I could scavenge for four days, mostly from airports and aeroplane galleys. I ate an entire pack of peppermints and now my mouth tastes like toothpaste.”

“I’m sorry, honey. Have your shower and I’ll make you a snack to take with us to the restaurant. We can talk more about fostering when we get there and you’ve eaten something to line your stomach.”

He smirked. “I can hardly wait.”

Once Duncan was freshly showered and dressed in shorts, a buttoned shirt and sandals, he and Reeda drove into downtown Kingscliff to eat at the Kingy. Duncan parked his Porsche outside on the street, and they walked hand in hand into the restaurant. It was a double-story white building with black trim, and blue lettering over the entrance that read Kingscliff Beach Hotel.

They sat at a table as far away from the live band as they could manage. Reeda wanted to talk, and the music was loud. It was a rock band with an electric guitar—they were good, but there was no way Reeda and Duncan could hold a conversation if they sat too close.

Darkness was falling, and the air outside was cloyingly humid. The hotel filled up rapidly as the band played, with children dancing closer to the band in whatever space they could find. Families, couples, and singles all found tables or sat at the bar, and everyone talked together in raised voices or sat and listened to the music, feet tapping beneath their tables.

“We haven’t been here in ages,” Duncan commented after a waitress took their order.

“Sometimes I miss the Sydney restaurant scene and nightlife,” Reeda replied. “But there’s something fun about beachside living. People are more relaxed.”

“And everything shuts down much earlier.”

“That too.”

They chatted for a while about Duncan’s time in Sierra Leone, although he didn’t say a lot. Reeda knew he’d need time to process what he’d seen and experienced before he’d want to go into detail. She was used to giving him the space to do that now after three similar trips.

The waitress brought their battered cod with chips and two Heinekens to the table.

Reeda took a bite of fish, then stopped to squeeze lemon juice over the rest of it. “Lorenzo and Angela are getting married next week.”

“That happened fast, although I have to admit, I’m relieved you didn’t run off with him instead.” Duncan looked at her with a wry smile.

Her cheeks flushed. “You know I wouldn’t do that. Besides, he’s too young for me.”

“I’m only teasing. I’m glad they found each other.”