A Home Like Ours Fiona Lowe (good novels to read .txt) 📖

from—you know, like Fiza’s maize or animals? Then something they love about being in Boolanga. I’m hoping there’s something.’

‘This is generous,’ Fiza said.

‘Not really. Without evidence, they can’t be charged so I’m hoping this might make them think twice about stealing from us again.’

‘It’s a great idea,’ Tara said. ‘Maybe we can involve some of them in the cottage restoration. I mean, the opportunity to use power tools is a boy’s dream come true, right?’ She typed a reminder into her phone to follow up with the trade teacher at the start of the new year.

‘Fiza, Jon and I are putting in a formal complaint against Sergeant North. We believe his harassment of Amal and his determination to find him guilty was racially driven and it stopped him directing his officers to look elsewhere to solve the break-ins. We want you to know that you have that option too.’

Fiza closed her eyes for a moment and took in a deep breath. ‘I am pleased you wish to do this, but I will not complain against the police.’

‘Why not? You have a case—’ Tara stopped as Jon’s hand slid over hers and she felt the caution.

‘Constantly fighting something is incredibly exhausting,’ he said. ‘If Parkinson’s has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes you need to let someone else carry the load for a bit while you take a breather and regroup. We’ll carry this one for Fiza.’

‘Thank you, Jon, for understanding. I hope in the future you will allow me to carry some load for you both.’

Tara thought about the meals Fiza had provided and the childminding. About her unflappability and straight talking. The way she listened. Their shared bond as mothers and wanting the best for their children. As unlikely as Tara would have thought it a few months earlier, theirs was a real and growing friendship.

‘You don’t have to hope,’ she told Fiza. ‘You’re already doing it.’

Tara sat on the deck, gazing up at the stars and ignoring the call of a messy kitchen. After a frantic few weeks, she could hardly believe they were about to welcome a new year. Last New Year’s Eve, they’d hosted the gang and her biggest concern about the coming year had been how Clemmie would transition to school. In hindsight, Clemmie starting school was the least of Tara’s worries. Her daughter hadn’t skipped a beat, but she and Jon had come far too close to falling apart.

‘They’re asleep.’ Jon lowered himself onto a chair opposite her.

She swung her feet into his lap. ‘Clemmie will be up soon enough.’

‘I doubt it. They’re exhausted after playing in the pool all afternoon with the twins.’

He pressed his thumbs into the soles of her feet, massaging them. She sighed and stretched like a cat, loving the sensation of his hands on her.

‘Tonight was nice, wasn’t it?’

‘Yeah. But I probably ate too many of Fiza’s meat pancakes.’

‘You worked them off playing kick to kick with Amal. Has he given up on cricket?’

Jon grimaced. ‘I have. Anyway, Amal’s more interested in footy than cricket and he’s got form. If he practises over the summer, I reckon he could play for the under-eighteens next season.’

‘Would he want to?’

‘I think so. His face lit up when I suggested it.’ He ran his finger lightly up her calf and she shivered. ‘If you’re cold, I know a good way to warm up.’

‘Do you now?’ she teased, loving the glint in his eyes.

‘Ah-huh.’

He pulled her to her feet. She expected him to lead her inside, but instead he walked her to the spa and tugged her T-shirt over her head.

Goosebumps rose in tingling rafts and she tossed her head, sending her hair into a soft and flirty arc. ‘Exactly how does taking my clothes off warm me up?’

‘Get in and you’ll see.’

Laughing, she shucked her shorts and swung her legs over the edge, sliding into the warm bubbling water. Jon followed a little more slowly, his actions tinged with a mild tremor.

He pulled her onto his lap, bent his head close, and captured her mouth in a long deep kiss. Everything inside her loosened and she wrapped her arms around his neck, returning the kiss, loving the intimacy. Loving him.

She became aware of his erection pressing against her thigh. ‘Did you take a little blue pill?’

‘I did.’

Her heart squeezed. ‘Are we bringing in the new year?’

‘Well, that’s the plan …’

The plan sometimes worked and sometimes it needed extra support and modification. But tonight all she cared about was that Jon wanted her.

She stroked his face. ‘I love you, Jon Hooper.’

‘I love you too.’ He lifted her up and lowered her down onto him. ‘Happy New Year.’

EPILOGUE

Two Years Later

Carols by Candlelight was a Boolanga institution and, despite the long hours Tara had put in at the store during the run-up to Christmas, there was no way she was missing out on their traditional picnic in the park. It was the third Christmas she hadn’t made all the food from scratch, just the mince pies. These days she was at peace with that—the important thing was they were all together.

The first Christmas they’d shared with Parkinson’s, she’d discussed with Jon the idea of inviting all their friends—old and new—to join them at the park.

‘It’s a great idea,’ he’d said. ‘All part of embracing new traditions when the old ones don’t work for us any more. Some will come, some won’t. The choice is theirs. Either way, we’ll have fun.’

So, she’d suppressed the voice that said, ‘Lazy hostessing,’ and had sent out a general invitation: Please join us at Carols. BYO food to share. We’ll supply the mince pies, drinks and picnic rugs.

She’d hesitantly asked Fiza in person. ‘I know you don’t celebrate Christmas …’

‘This is true, but we enjoy the decorations,’ Fiza said. ‘And all the delicious cakes and biscuits.’

Now, Tara looked forward to this gathering as a time to reflect on the year that was. It also signalled the start of a few precious weeks off while the tradies enjoyed