1

Connor Walsh leaned against the window frame with his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the waves crashing against the rocks. In front of him, as wide as the horizon, was the ocean. With the clouds drifting in from the sea, the sky had turned grey and dark, and he knew there’d be even more rain coming later in the day.

He would’ve enjoyed the scene if it hadn’t reminded him of the changes in his life. He’d been back in Fermosa Bay for two days already, but the memories of the first seven years of his life which he’d spent in this small Australian coastal town were tucked away in the back of his mind. Inaccessible as it seemed. Nowadays, his life was in London and had been for the last twenty-three years. Taking a couple of deep breaths, he looked towards the harbour in the distance, and the small town in the alcove with the hilly forest in the background, where he’d spent some of his childhood years. It was truly one picturesque little place.

A noise from the other end of the house hauled him back from his thoughts, and he stepped away from the window. Since he’d decided to accept Jack’s invitation to come to Australia a few weeks earlier, he’d had visions of what he’d find here. His mother hadn’t told him much about the time she’d lived here, except about Jack owning a pub. Connor had been furious for her lack of memory, but in the end, he’d admitted to himself that it had possibly not been a time she’d like to remember.

Hence, he was surprised to find out that Jack lived in this large house just outside Fermosa Bay, on the top of the cliffs, with a view over the ocean. The house had five rooms and a small study at the back. The lounge room, with a high vaulted ceiling, had wood fire heating and a big window front. Connor had loved the house the instant he’d stepped into it.

He entered the hall, where he found his father. “Good morning, Jack.”

The old man sighed sadly. “You still can’t bring it over your heart to call me Dad?”

Connor’s gaze wandered from his father to all the many framed photos along the wall. Jack was in many of them, but most were of people he didn’t know, except the biggest one, which showed Connor as a child in Jack’s arms. A wave of sadness shook him, but he wasn’t sure what it exactly was. It could’ve been regret that he hadn’t known about his father earlier, or simple sympathy for the man who thought so much of him without knowing anything about him.

And, yet, it wasn’t in him to call him Dad. Or to even think of him as his dad.

After a moment’s silence, he turned to his father and shook his head. “Sorry.”

Jack coughed, and Connor quickly rushed to his side, holding him upright.

“Another bad day?” Connor asked.

“Son, there will be no more good days. One day is like the other, until it will be the last.”

The words struck Connor deep enough to feel some emotions for his father. He knew time was running out, but hearing it made it sound final.

“There’s a front coming, but I think you’d be able to sit outside for a little while. At least until the nurse comes.”

Jack simply nodded.

Connor helped his father out onto the deck, where the old man sat down on his swing seat.

“Thanks, son.”

Without a reply, Connor stepped away and watched the sea again.

“I couldn’t keep you away from the water when you were a child,” Jack said after a long moment.

The words surprised him. “What do you mean?”

When Jack didn’t answer, he turned to look at his father who stared into the distance, a withdrawn expression on his face.

“You were constantly in the water. Whatever opportunity you had, you grabbed your little board and spent most of the day there.”

Now intrigued by the small information about his childhood, Connor asked, “What happened?”

His father shrugged. “You left with your mother.”

Not all that happy with the reply, Connor sat down on the chair next to Jack while letting out a long breath. “Something must’ve happened. I never go near water, let alone go in it.”

Still gazing into the distance, Jack said, “I still have the blue board. Ethan’s little son sometimes uses it nowadays.”

Unsure where the conversation was heading, Connor went along. “Who’s Ethan?” he asked.

The reaction from his father wasn’t what he expected, though. With his shoulders sagged, Jack closed his eyes. He looked so old and frail. From what Connor saw in all the photos around the house, cancer had taken a lot of life out of his father, leaving behind a haggard body with no energy left. Initially, he’d been taken aback by their similarities in looks, with their dark brown eyes and dark blond hair, including the stubborn curl above the ears, but after all, Jack was his father.

“Ethan was your best friend when you lived here.”

Pain shot through Connor as he was again confronted with a piece of information about his past that he knew nothing about. What had happened all those years ago, that his memory blocked these recollections of his childhood?

“How is your mother?” Jack wanted to know suddenly.

Connor clenched his jaw, trying hard to hold back to frustration and hoping it was a sign of the illness that his father wasn’t able to hold on to one topic anymore. He studied the old man as he listened to his heavy breathing. Jack was thin and pale, with dark circles under his eyes.

“She’s doing well,” he replied after a long moment.

“Married?”

“Yes.”

A smile spread across Jack’s face. “She was beautiful when she lived here. So beautiful.”

Leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees, Connor asked calmly, “Why did you ask her to leave?”

Finally, their eyes locked, and his father’s confusion took Connor aback.

“Son, what are you talking about?”

Their conversation was interrupted, though, by the ringing of the doorbell. Connor cursed inwardly, knowing he had to wait for his father’s response that little bit longer. So many questions about his past, a past he knew nothing about. He stepped back into the house and walked to the front door, making a mental note to ask his mother about Ethan. And how the hell had he liked surfing as a kid when he wouldn’t go near the water now?

Still in thought, he opened the door and was taken off-guard for a moment by what he saw. In front of him stood a beautiful woman with a smile that had an effect on him right to his toes and back up his legs, pooling heat in his groin.

She held her hand out. “Hi, Connor. You don’t look anything like you did twenty years ago.”

He blinked away his confusion, slowly taking her hand. “Thanks. And you are?”

“I’m offended,” she replied with a soft laugh. “I’m Emily Bradshaw.” With an exaggerated sigh, she added, “The man who gave me my first kiss can’t remember me.”

As she shook her head, her curly red hair bounced around her face. Her green eyes were gleaming with good humour.

“Sorry, Emily. I’m—” He had no idea what he was. Speechless. Frustrated. Memory gone. Probably all of the above. “I’m still jetlagged. Apologies. Come on in.”

Emily walked past him, down the hall, and towards the stairs.

“Look, Emily. In regard to the…ehrm, the jetlag, want to give me a hint what you’re doing here?”

She spun around, her mouth curving into a smile again. “I’m your dad’s nurse.”

Giving a slow nod, he said, “Right. That makes sense.” He held her gaze, absolutely mesmerised by her. It appeared he’d had good taste already as a child. He definitely had to find out about that kiss.

“Right,” he said again. “Jack’s outside on the deck.”

She looked up at him in surprise. The good-humoured face had lost its smile. “Jack?” she asked.

Connor raised his brows. “My dad?”

She gave a slow nod. “Yes, he is,” she replied slowly. “Anyway, the deck’s perfect. He needs a bit of Vitamin D. It’ll do him good.”

Watching her behind, he followed her outside. The storm was closing in, and Emily shaded her eyes with her hand as she looked into the distance across the ocean.

“Emily,” Jack greeted her, and Connor could’ve sworn he caught a slight smile on his father’s face.

She turned to him. “How are you, Jack?”

The old man took her hand. “I have Connor here.”

Connor was struck by the intensity of his father’s words. I have Connor here. It was the way they were spoken, and the emotions behind them that confused him. Was there a bit of belonging or appreciation? Or did Connor read something into it when there wasn’t anything?

He watched Emily taking off the blanket. She waited patiently as Jack had another bout of coughing fits.

“Jack, did you take your medication this morning?” she asked.

He waved her off with his hand. “Nah, I’m sick of them. They’re making me drowsy and nauseous.”

“They help—”

“They don’t help,” Jack interrupted. “They delay the obvious. I wanna have a clear mind when I discuss matters with Connor.”

“You shouldn’t skip on the medication,” she persisted. “They help—”

“She’s not only as pretty as her mother, but just as stubborn,” Jack said with a grin.

Connor noticed his father’s long sigh. It seemed even talking was an effort for him nowadays. There were so many questions about the illness, but also the medication he was obviously refusing.

“He’s even taken on the pommy accent. My own son has a pommy accent,” Jack told Emily as she checked his temperature.

She turned to look at Connor and gave him a smile. “I suppose it’s been a while since you moved to England.”

“He was seven.”

Emily placed her hand on her chest and with exaggeration replied, “Oh, I remember. I was heartbroken for days.”

Connor cocked a brow. “Days?”

Her laugh was genuine and beautiful. “Well, you know, Niall showed me his secret spot at the beach.”

“Niall?”

“I can’t believe you don’t remember Niall.”

“He can’t even bloody remember Ethan,” Jack growled.

Emily stared at Connor. “You’re kiddin’, right?”

Suddenly the humorous expression on her face changed, but he couldn’t figure out what she was thinking. It bugged him that he wasn’t able to remember anything from his childhood here in Australia, but it annoyed him even more to see the disbelief in these two. The next few weeks were going to be a steep learning curve about his past.

She stared at him for a long moment. Although he wasn’t coy when it came to women, it made him uncomfortable, and he turned to look out across the ocean again. There was a big container ship on the horizon, moving along at snail’s pace. It was barely visible in the distance, despite being near the coast. Closing his eyes, he compared himself to a ship in the ocean, so close to everyone, yet out of everyone’s reach as he once again wondered what had happened. Or why he was here, at the other end of the world, twenty-four flight hours away, about nine time zones ahead of his family back in England.

His father’s and Emily’s voices were distant as Connor tried his hardest to remember anything about this place. Remember somebody called Ethan or Niall.

But he came up with nothing. Zilch.

Not even the mention of a kiss triggered any memories.

He’d been barely over seven years old when he and his mother had left Australia and made their new home in London. There were vague memories in the back of his mind about the first days in school in London. He’d been the newcomer and learnt quickly to adapt and make new friends. He and his mother had lived with his grandparents until she had found a job and had been able to afford a small apartment.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Connor was desperate for the slightest bit of memory.

Anything.

But he came up empty.

“Your dad appreciates that you’ve come here.”

Connor shot around and met Emily’s gaze. For a brief moment, he lost himself in her eyes, inhaling the subtle scent of her perfume. He had no idea how to reply to her comment, so he turned back to watch the virga above the sea.

“How long will you stay?”

Letting out a sigh, he contemplated the question.

When he’d received Jack’s phone call, telling him he was his father, Connor had thrown words at him he’d immediately regretted before hanging up without listening to anything Jack had to say. Thank God, Jack had been persistent and called again the next day. Consumed with curiosity, he listened for half an hour, making notes. Jack had provided him with all the details, date of birth, name, and even provided him with a copy of his birth certificate and a few photos via email afterwards.

Three hours later, his mother had confirmed Jack’s claim to be his father. It’d been a tumultuous few weeks. They’d talked a couple of times on the phone, and finally Jack had told him about his terminal cancer and the real reason for finding him: he had invited Connor to Fermosa Bay to spend some time with him.

Jane, Connor’s mother, opposed the idea of him travelling to the other end of the world, but something inside him yearned to find out more about his paternal family. At the same time, it scared the hell out of him.

He crossed one foot over the other and spread his arms wide on the railing. “I’ve taken a year off work.” With a shrug, he added, “I suppose a few months. See how I go.”

Emily stepped closer and when she placed her hand on his shoulder, an unexpected jolt went through him. “Are you all right?”

Wasn’t that the one million-dollar question?

No, he wasn’t. Not even close. Several weeks ago, he’d said goodbye to the woman who’d cheated on him and a few days ago, he’d said farewell to his mother and Duncan, the man he’d called father for almost twenty years. Embarking on a flight to the other end of the world, Connor had been determined to find out about the first seven years of his life.

His mouth edged up as he replied, “Of course, I am. Just a bit tired.”

 

***

 

As soon as Jack had told Emily earlier in the week that Connor was coming to Fermosa Bay, her whole body had reacted. She’d laughed at herself for still having a crush on him, but even at the tender age of six years, he’d been the love of her life. They’d spent hours at the beach, searching for shells, building sand castles, or swimming in the sea. The famous five of Fermosa Bay, as they had been called: Emily, Connor, Ethan, Niall, and Skye.

Then there’d been the accident, and she’d never seen Connor again until today.

The simple touch of her hand on his shoulder brought back all the memories and the fun they’d had.

Yet, it seemed they were only memories for her. The fun and mischief were nowhere to be seen in his eyes. Standing in front of her, he seemed distant and withdrawn. The constant grin he’d worn on his face was gone.

She tried hard to put on a smile. “I’m sure the others would love to catch up with you. How about a drink at the pub tomorrow night?”

Connor nodded. “Sure. Just give me a bit longer to settle in.”

Disappointed, she assented. And understood. After all, he’d only stepped off a plane after twenty-four hours two days ago, to see his father for the first time in such a long time. “No worries. I let the boys know. Skye moved away a few years ago.”

His look told her that the name didn’t ring a bell, either.

“You’ve really been hit hard with jetlag.”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Sorry for that.”

“Is there a Mrs Delaney?” Emily tried to sound as casual as possible, but wasn’t sure whether it’d come across that way. The expression on his face revealed a touch of disbelief.

“You should know better than me. After all, you’ve known Jack longer than me.”

Emily didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I meant you,” she finally replied in a whisper, hoping not to put more salt in what seemed an open wound.

The expression on his face changed to pained, his lips turned downwards. “My surname is Walsh. And no, there’s no Mrs Walsh.”

The way he spoke made Emily think there was also a slight pain in his voice. Another dead end in the conversation.

The first raindrops fell, and she checked her watch.

“I’d better be going. I’ll be back on Wednesday.”

Connor said his thanks before Emily turned to leave. She was startled, though, by Jack’s expression. The sadness stored from over twenty years was obvious in that moment. He must’ve heard their conversation, and she thought back on what had been said.

It was the surname. She was sure it would’ve pained Jack to know that his only son wasn’t carrying his surname. Emily blinked, fighting back tears.

“Jack,” she said, walking towards him. “I think you’d better go back inside. I’ll be back on Wednesday.”

The old man nodded and tried to stand up. Connor rushed to his side to help, and seeing the two next to each other, she was surprised by the resemblance between them.

Inside, she said goodbye and walked to the front of the house. Connor followed her to the door, but before he opened it, he asked quietly, “How long does he have?”

She met his gaze. He still had those beautiful chocolate brown eyes he’d had as a boy. He wore his hair shorter these days, with the very first few grey hairs. Life couldn’t have been all that easy on him. Although he had his father’s rugged looks, everything in his appearance screamed money. The clothes, his watch, the way he moved, and the English accent was clean as well. The stubble on his face was the only thing that showed neglect, but she assumed that was still a leftover from the travel.

A small sigh escaped her when she noticed that her girl crush was still in full swing. Although it shouldn’t have been. After all, he’d been on her mind often, at least while going out with a man. She rolled her eyes at herself at the idea of comparing her date with a six-year-old boy. No wonder she’d still been single.

“The doctors have given him six months, but he’s very stubborn and doesn’t take his medication.” She hitched a shoulder. “I suppose any time.”

“I appreciate you looking after him,” he said.

“We’re all looking after him. He’s been good to us all those years. We’re simply returning what was given.”

And without even thinking twice about it, she stood on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Give me a call if you need to talk.”

Too scared he might have seen her blush, she didn’t linger but opened the door and walked to her car. What had made her kiss him? What would he think of her?

Emily started the engine and drove off to her next patient. Busy with looking after the other patients in the afternoon, her mind was on the job while sorting medication, checking vital signs, or even giving some of them a wash.

Once finally home later that day, she grabbed one of her mum’s lasagne out of the freezer and heated it in the microwave.

“The love of my childhood is back in town. Could be his twin, too, for all I know,” she mumbled to Boomer, the orange and white cat rubbing against her leg. She gave the cat a quick rub on the belly and was rewarded with a content purr.

A few minutes later, she sat in front of the television with her meal when the phone rang.

It was Ethan. “Hello, pumpkin.”

“You tend to always call while I’m eating.”

He laughed. “That’s because you’re always eating.”

“Bugger off.”

“How’s Jack?”

Pain rushed through her, and she sighed. “Not good. He’s refusing his medication.”

“Pigheaded to the last minute.”

Jack was, and always had been. He could’ve taken the easy road on many occasions, but pride and tradition came first. In this case, it wasn’t pride or tradition, and she wasn’t able to understand his refusal to take the medication. It pained her to see how his health deteriorated each week, and there was nothing she was able to do about it.

“By the way, Connor’s arrived,” she said to change the subject.

“Excellent,” Ethan nearly shouted. “Going for a beer at Stanley’s tomorrow night?”

Emily moved her lasagne away. Her appetite was gone. “He’s changed, Ethan,” she whispered.

“We all have, pumpkin. Some more than others. We’re twenty years older.”

She choked back a chuckle. Yes, Ethan had to do the quick growing up after Skye had fallen pregnant at nineteen and left him a mere few months after Samuel had been born.

“No, I mean different.”

“Don’t tell me he’s turned into an arrogant pommy.”

She laughed. “You’re such an arse.” Hesitating, she added, “He doesn’t call Jack dad, and when I talked about Niall and Skye, he had a complete blank.”

“Denying his heritage, is he?”

Laughing again, she replied, “Are you considering yourself heritage?”

Unsure what had triggered it, but Ethan grew serious. “I’d better head over there tomorrow morning and check things out. I have a few things to discuss with Jack as well.”

“Please bring back the old Connor,” she pleaded barely above a whisper.

“Still got that crush on him?”

“It’s less that, but more…it’s hard to explain. He seems so empty of any emotions, not just the lack of memory.” She inhaled deeply. “He looked so sad.”

“You’ve been watching too many love movies. I’m sure he’s all right. Probably jetlagged.”

Connor had used these same words and something inside her stirred, told her to let it go. After all, twenty years was a very long time.

“I guess you’re right,” she finally admitted.

“Hey, you’re coming on Friday night to the school concert, right?”

Her mood picked up. “Of course I will. Six o’clock. All booked in.”

“Excellent. Sam is looking forward to it.”

“So am I.”

Emily hung up with a smile on her lips. She loved little Samuel and wouldn’t miss the concert for anything in the world. Especially considering she’d spent days finding him a red outfit for the occasion. She leaned back into the sofa thinking about Ethan and his son. They all helped raise Ethan’s boy. She and Niall did a lot of babysitting or took him on little weekend trips. Jack, though, had contributed the most by pushing Ethan through university and giving him a job in his company.

Jack Delaney had looked after all of them; he was like a grandfather to Sam, and the boy loved him.

Emily stood, grabbed her plate, and went into the kitchen to dispose of her dinner.

Twenty years. She’d had waited over twenty years to see Connor again, but their reunion hadn’t been anything close to what she’d expected. Of course, she was aware it’d been twenty years since they’d last seen each other, and, of course, she was aware that people changed. But the change in Connor surprised her. It was as if he was someone completely different, twenty years or not.

And with an ache spreading through her whole body, it was like she was losing him again.

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