April's Glow (3 page)

As he carried the last box in, he caught sight of a kid riding a bike past his house. Automatically, he checked the road to make sure no cars were about to swerve around the corner; then, satisfied the kid was safe, he went inside and closed the door, locking it.

He stood in the centre of the living room, staring at the empty fireplace that he planned to fill with firewood over the coming months as autumn merged into winter. A memory of sitting around a campfire with friends intruded on his mind. Friends. Most were long gone now. Here he was, in a new town, starting all over again like a kid in a new school. But he wasn't ready to make friends. In time, perhaps. He knew he couldn't continue this way forever, but for now, solitude was his best mate.

Zac glanced at his laptop charging in the corner on the floor. As it often did, inspiration hit him unexpectedly, so he sat on the floor and opened his computer. He clicked the web browser and opened his anonymous blog:
Winning The War Within
.

Words formed in his mind and he typed quickly:

He read through it a couple of times then clicked ‘publish'. The last line lingered in his mind …

One day he would fly again, metaphorically speaking. He didn't know when, he didn't know how. But he hoped—
wished
—that somehow he would find the strength to tear down the bars of his cage and set himself free.

‘Don't forget to make a wish! Ready?' Olivia placed the cake on April's outdoor table, her hand creating a curved barrier between the flaming candles and the night air.

‘Ha! I've actually made
ant
i-wishes,' April replied.

‘Anti-wishes? What kind of weirdo are you?' said Zoe, one of her oldest friends—she'd known her since primary school.

‘Takes one to know one.' April winked, and Zoe blew her an air kiss. The happiness of their friendship was directly proportional to the severity of their fake insults.

‘Well, whatever you want to wish for or not wish for, get ready, time to sing happy birthday!' Olivia was used to running birthday parties, having had eight years of experience with her daughter, Mia. April wouldn't be surprised if she whipped out a game of pass the parcel or pin the tail on the donkey. Or maybe she'd broken with tradition and hired a surprise stripper. That would be one hell of a way to welcome the new neighbour to the street, trying to sleep to the sounds of tipsy women laughing and talking loudly over hyped-up music and watching the shadow of a gyrating muscular male through the living room window.

Nancy next door would probably like it though. She might even join the party.

But no, she was sure Olivia hadn't planned such a surprise. And her cousin, Lisa, who sat demurely opposite her, holding her wine glass with her careful, dainty fingers, was more of a quiet, reserved type.

Zoe snapped a photo as the candles warmed April's face and the scent of wax drifted up to her nose. April smiled, then for the second photo, stuck out her tongue and squished her cheeks together. It was her birthday tradition, to have a funny-face photo for every birthday, ever since she'd done one in high school with Zoe, who had suggested repeating it each year.

When she returned her focus to the cake, she caught a flash of movement to her right. One of the sheer curtains framing the neighbour's kitchen window billowed. The venetian blinds were slightly open. Maybe he'd seen her wacky birthday pose and wondered what he'd gotten himself into, becoming this crazy person's neighbour. She also wondered if he'd seen her earlier, setting up the outdoor table with her candles. She'd rearranged them about five times before she was happy with the layout. Then she'd remembered she was at home and not at work and didn't have to be such a perfectionist about her display abilities to impress the customers.

April swayed as her friends sang ‘Happy Birthday'.

‘Hip-hip-hooray! Hip-hip-hooray!'

April reviewed her anti-wishes in her mind, then blew out the candles. Bar one.

‘You must be too old. Can't blow all of the candles out in one hit.' Zoe chuckled.

‘Hey, you're six months older than me,' April replied.

‘I get the feeling you're going to keep holding that over me, right up to when we share a room in a nursing home one day.'

‘Who says I'm going to share with you? I might share a room with the resident hottie.'

‘I might be
married
to the resident hottie.'

‘Ladies! Your candle, April.' Olivia pointed sharply to the cake. She wouldn't put it past her to blow it out on her behalf and say, ‘There, all done. Happy birthday! Now let's play a game'.

April thought about what she actually would like for the year ahead …
oh why not?

I wish for a year of business success, and happy, memorable moments.

There. Not too specific. A general wish. She blew out the remaining candle and her eyes flicked up to the sound of the neighbour's window closing.

‘Somebody doesn't appreciate our singing,' said Zoe.

‘Hey, speak for yourself!' Olivia placed her hands on her hips.

Guess the guy's not deaf after all.

Lisa smiled and observed. Small talk wasn't her thing. She only spoke when there was something to say. But when she did speak, it was either a hilarious one-liner, or something profound and helpful. April would never forget how her cousin had comforted and supported her, back when her life had taken an unexpected detour. And the pink candle-in-a-jar that sat on her bedside table, given as a gift by Lisa to lift April's spirits, was what had sparked the idea for opening a candle store and starting her life over. She owed a lot to Lisa.

‘Have you met your neighbours yet?' Zoe cocked her head towards the house.

April shook hers. ‘I think there's only one person. See—one chair on the deck. And there's a ute out front. Probably an old guy.' She picked up her one-and-only glass of wine and lifted it to her lips; the crisp, grapey scent taking over the aroma of the citronella candles.

‘Could be a couple, and they might
share
the deck chair in a loving embrace.' Zoe spoke with a flourish.

‘Half their luck,' Olivia mumbled.

Lisa cleared her throat. It was like a proverbial drumroll … Lisa's going to speak! ‘Or, maybe they
had
two chairs but one broke because they had more than just a loving embrace on it.'

Wine spurted from April's mouth and narrowly missed the cake. Zoe guffawed and Olivia giggled. ‘Oh God, Lisa, you're a hoot!' April laughed.

Lisa shrugged as if her suggestion was a completely plausible explanation for the solitary chair.

‘Here you go, Ape,' said Zoe, handing her the kitchen knife. ‘Slice it up and make another anti-wish?'

‘Seriously, I'm thirty-three, I think you can stop calling me Ape now.' She took the knife and positioned the tip at the centre of the chocolate mud cake, then slid a glance back at Zoe. ‘Zooey.'

‘Hey, I know we had that whole discussion back in school about you being an ape and me belonging in a zoo, and seriously, Ape suits you. But Zooey? It's just not funny anymore.'

‘As long as you call me Ape I'll call you Zooey.' She slid the knife through the cake in one smooth motion. She forgot to make another wish, or anti-wish, but the knife touched the bottom anyway, which meant her anti-wish would be void. Not that she believed in superstitions.

She cut four slices and, as promised earlier, handed Olivia the biggest slice.

As they dug into the rich, dense cake, April dug deep inside her heart to unearth some much-needed hope. She'd be okay. She
was
okay. She had built her strength back up in the last two years, both emotionally and physically. And she had two close friends, a great employee, a cousin who was more like a sister, her mother, and Lisa's mum, Aunt Susie. And of course there was Dad. Though he wasn't there for her much, he was still around. She still had a father. She had a lot more than many other people. But she had also lost a lot more than other people.

Before April allowed herself to remember the past, Zoe lifted a glass of wine. ‘A toast!' April lifted hers, as did Olivia and Lisa. ‘To April, and a year of amazing business success, laughter and happiness, and … what else?'

‘Um …' Olivia tilted her head towards the starlit sky.

Zoe raised her glass even higher. ‘And a hot, passionate fling with a gorgeous man who has a body to die for!'

Olivia and Lisa clinked their glasses to Zoe's but April hesitated. ‘Um, yeah maybe not that last one, Zooey.'

‘Why not, Ape?'

‘Too complicated.' She flicked her free hand in a dismissive wave. ‘I'm not ready for complicated.'

‘Who says it has to be complicated?' Zoe replied.

Complicated. Why
did
it have to be? It hadn't been before. At least in the beginning. Meet a guy, fall in love, get engaged, and then … well, that's when things
had
gotten complicated. If things had turned out differently that unforgettable day, she'd now be married to Kyle living the life she had planned. But life could change in an instant, and the thought of giving love a chance again after all she'd been through was exhausting. The non-existent date last weekend had been the sign, even though she didn't believe in signs. Though two and a half years had passed, it was still too soon.

But she clinked her glass against Zoe's and the others' anyway. ‘To uncomplicated,' she said.

‘To uncomplicated!' they chorused.

* * *

The next morning, April let Romeo outside and left his water and food bowl on the back deck. He scooted off with enthusiasm and dashed into the nearest bush, then dashed back out of it and leapt onto the bird bath, balancing precariously on the thin edge, dipping his paw in tentatively and trying to scoop some of the water up. No matter how many water bowls she left around for him, he always preferred to find his own source whenever possible—in the garden, the kitchen sink, and the shower or bathtub.

‘Bye, Romeo!' she called out. She locked the back door, grabbed her handbag, and opened the front door. April stopped when something caught her eye on the doormat. A lone flower sat in a glass jar half filled with water, a note attached with an elastic band.
Huh.
She picked up the beautiful flower; long, slim petals radiating out from the centre petals, the bright red colour reminding her of her store's ‘passion' candle. The note said:

Happy birthday, April.

That was it. No name, and she didn't recognise the handwriting.

She smiled, glanced around the street to see if anyone was around. They must have left it early, or maybe one of her friends had left it last night when she wasn't looking, when they had all shuffled outside in a cluster of chatter.

It couldn't be the new neighbour, he or they didn't know her name.

She looked towards Number Five. It was probably Nancy Dillinger who'd left the flower, the dear thing. She was nosy, in a polite way, but the few times she'd spoken with the woman she could tell she was a nice person with a good heart. But she didn't recall seeing any unique flowers like that in her garden. Though she wouldn't put it past the woman to pinch flowers from someone else's.

‘How sweet,' April said out loud, taking the flower inside and placing it on the dining table next to her citrus candle centrepiece. She took a photo of it with her phone, then noticed Romeo's confused look through the glass pane of the back door at seeing her back inside. ‘Sorry, Romes,' she said with a pout. ‘Still going to work.' She went out the front and walked down the street.

How nice, to get an anonymous gift. She walked briskly, and couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching her.

On arriving home that afternoon, April expected Romeo to be waiting at the back door, meowing loudly and waiting to come inside for dinner. But he wasn't there. She opened the door to the back deck and stepped outside.

‘Romeo!' She leaned on the deck railing and scanned the garden. ‘Romeo!'

Where was the little rascal? She eyed the trees. Maybe he was up too high and didn't want to come down or was stuck. ‘Come on, Romeo. Get your furry butt over here!'

‘You're saying it wrong.'

April flinched. She turned left to face the source of the male voice at the house next door.

Holy moly.
She almost toppled over the railing. The sight of him paralysed her voice box.

‘You're supposed to say, “Wherefore art thou, Romeo?”' he said, as a small smile lifted one corner of his lips.