Silverton shores, p.1
Silverton Shores, page 1
MANDY MAGRO lives in Cairns, Far North Queensland, with her husband, Des, their daughter, Chloe Rose, two adorable pooches, Sophie and Sherlock, and the largest personality of the household, Charlie the cockatiel. With pristine aqua-blue coastline in one direction and sweeping rural landscapes in the other, she describes her home as heaven on earth. A passionate woman and a romantic at heart, Mandy loves writing about soul-deep love, the Australian way of life, and the wonderful characters that call the country home.
Also by Mandy Magro
Rosalee Station
Jacaranda
Flame Tree Hill
Driftwood
Country at Heart
The Wildwood Sisters
Bluegrass Bend
Walking the Line
Along Country Roads
Moment of Truth
A Country Mile
Return to Rosalee Station
Secrets of Silvergum
Riverstone Ridge
The Stockman’s Secret
Home Sweet Home
Savannah’s Secret
Road to Rosalee
Back to the Country
Jillaroo from Jacaranda
Gum Tree Gully
Secrets of Riverside
One More Time
www.harpercollins.com.au/hq
To Helen and Carl Dixon, for the amazing friends that you are!
I’m so happy we’ve met, and connected,
from opposite sides of the world.
Here’s to the many shared adventures awaiting us. xx
CONTENTS
About the Author
Also by Mandy Magro
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Acknowledgements
What do you do when you’re met with a dead end?
You go right back to the beginning and start over.
PROLOGUE
Silverton Shores, way back when …
Watching through the windscreen of her mum’s shiny classic Volkswagen Beetle as she drove past the rolling waves kissing the white-sand shoreline, twenty-one-year-old Annie Sabatini tried to distract her racing thoughts. She’d messed up as a sixteen-year-old, big time, but over the past four years she’d done her best to make up for the mistake that had been the trigger for her family’s abrupt move from the hustle and bustle of Sydney to the sleepy Far North Queensland township of Silverton Shores. With a combination of hard work, resilience and genuine belief, she was proof that dreams really could come true. And unlike the shocking day she’d gone and shattered her mum and dad’s perfectly manicured world, along with her own, today her parents couldn’t be prouder of her achievements. Their prayers had been answered. Their eldest daughter was righting her wrongs. Come tomorrow, it was going to be the beginning of her new life as a nursing student at the University of Sydney. Today was going to mark the end of her exhausting uphill struggle to get there.
Or so she hoped.
As she slowed to match the fifty-kilometre speed limit of the township’s main street, a quick glance in the rear-view mirror confirmed seven-year-old Morgan Savage was thoroughly enjoying the toy plane she’d gifted him at the St Augustine’s annual church Christmas party two weeks earlier. Morgan didn’t live up to his last name – he was the sweetest of the three little boys she regularly babysat for a very fair hourly rate of fifteen dollars. Almost every cent had been tucked away for her move back to the big smoke, because moving out of home and into university dorms was going to be costly. Her parents were helping a bit financially, but she also wanted to prove that she could eventually stand on her own two feet. She hoped Morgan would be happy to wait in the car while she nipped in to see Father Harris. The boy’s little ears couldn’t hear what she was about to tell the priest in confidence.
Feeling the strong pull of her past, her stomach soured as she recalled the night she’d lost her virginity at a bonfire on Bondi Beach while under the influence of an entire bottle of wine. Barely sixteen, she’d been naive enough to believe she and her nineteen-year-old boyfriend were going to be together forever. Three days later he’d left town to backpack his way around the world, and she’d never seen him again. Word was he’d met and married a Dutch girl. Nobody knew of her deep despair at his sudden departure. Her devout Catholic parents had made sure of that – new town, new start, clean slate, stereotypical picture-on-the-mantelpiece family status intact – so they could bury their daughter’s secret nice and deep, down with the worms, so it didn’t ruin her father’s perfect reputation as a lay pastor. If the Silverton Shore locals ever discovered the skeleton in her family’s closet, their tongues would be wagging like a dog’s tail in a butcher shop. In a town as small as this place, gossip spread like wildfire, and she was mindful there were plenty of expert blabbermouths who would be keen to throw the lit match. And it was over her dead body that she, or her well-meaning, sometimes overbearing parents, would become the subjects of gossip among Silverton busybodies. Come hell or high water, she’d promised her mum and dad that she’d take this secret to her grave. As, in turn, would they. And a true Sabatini never made promises lightly. Up until this very moment, she’d made it her mission to remain silent. Her sweet, innocent baby girl deserved that much, as well as way more than she’d ever be able to give her.
She pulled into the empty gravel car park at the side of the quaint seaside church, beneath the cool shade of a blooming jacaranda tree. Ear-ringing silence fell as the rumble of the engine ended. Her insides tipped and tumbled at the very thought of what she was about to do, so she stole a moment to gather herself as best she could. Briefly regarding Morgan, who was clearly in a happy world of his own, and then looking back to the five front steps that would lead her towards what she believed would be her only hope of redemption before embarking on her new adventure, she sucked in a fraught breath, hoping to god she was doing the right thing.
‘What are we doing here, Aunt Annie?’ Morgan’s little voice came from the back seat.
Although she wasn’t an aunt through blood, she adored that he saw her this way. ‘Oh, I’ve just got to duck in and see Father Harris for a few minutes.’ She offered him a warm smile. ‘Will you be okay to wait here?’
‘Yes.’ He nodded enthusiastically with his tiny thumb held up. ‘I’m a big boy, I’ll be okay.’
‘Thank you, Morgan.’ Drawing in a shaky breath, she fumbled with her seatbelt then, grabbing her handbag, she stepped out and into the late-afternoon sunshine before she could change her mind. ‘I won’t be long.’
‘Okey-dokey.’ With the broadest of adorable smiles, he waved her off.
Annie’s steps quickened as the desperation to finally speak about the secret that had been tormenting her for far too long overwhelmed her. Surely their local priest wouldn’t repeat what she was about to disclose, no matter how shocking it might be. Wasn’t it his responsibility to keep everything he was told in confession hush-hush? She prayed it was so as she made her way into God’s sanctuary where the scent of incense lingered.
Pausing at the doorway, she momentarily felt as if she were somehow caught between her past and her future. Golden sunlight streamed through the stained-glass windows, making the religious depictions glow while sending a kaleidoscope of colours scattering across the wooden floorboards. Her eyes widened as relief struck her. It was a sign, as if God was calling her. She couldn’t bail now. She had to do this. Quickly dipping her fingertips in the holy water, she made the sign of the cross. Then, with her quivering bottom lip clamped between her teeth, she looked left to right in search of Father Harris.
He appeared through a doorway, which she knew led to his office. ‘Well, hello there, Annie.’ Reaching her, the silver-haired priest rested his weight on his walking stick. ‘You look concerned, dear. Is everything okay?’
Unable to hold his gaze, she glanced down at her feet. ‘Not really, Father.’ Fighting off the impulse to make a run for it, she sadly shook her head. ‘I was hoping you had time to hear my confession.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.
‘Of course I can,’ he said, offering a compassionate smile. ‘Come now, my dear, follow me.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ was her quick reply.
She trailed him, her footsteps echoing as she slowly made her way between the pews and towards the ornate confessional box at the far-left corner of the church. With another gentle smile, Father Harris disappeared into his side. Slowly pulling back the red curtain, she stepped into hers and took a seat. She sat up straighter as she waited for him to get settled.
‘Okay, Annie, go ahead.’ His calming voice carried through the little latticed window.
Glancing down at her wringing hands, she took a breath. ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’
‘Tell me, how long has it been since your last confession?’ His tone remained soft, kind.
‘I see.’ He sighed softly. ‘Can you tell me why it has been so long?’
‘Yes, I can.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I was afraid that if I came in here before now, I’d say things that I promised my parents I wouldn’t.’ Tripping over words as her heart raced, she halted.
‘Go on, child,’ Father Harris gently encouraged. ‘When you’re ready.’
Nodding, she sniffed back red, raw emotion. ‘No matter how hard I try to keep quiet, I can’t keep this in anymore. It’s like my secret has grown so big I feel like I could burst if I don’t at least tell you, a man of God, what I’ve done, because hopefully, then, somehow, some way, I can find peace in my heart.’ A sob rose, and she choked it back. ‘But I’m also frightened that you’re going to think badly of me, and my family, when I confess.’
There was a short moment of silence, followed by his outward breath. ‘It’s clear you have a very heavy heart, Annie, so take your time, and when you’re ready, I’m listening to offer my support, and most certainly not to judge.’
The thought that she was about to reveal what her own father referred to as sordid details terrified her even more than she’d thought it would. ‘Okay, I just need a moment.’
Her eyes welled with fresh tears and she allowed them to tumble down her cheeks as she finally found the courage to expose her guarded heart. After a deep inhalation, the details she’d kept under lock and key tumbled from her quivering lips in quick succession, until there was nothing left to say.
‘Oh, Annie, I understand your worry and heartbreak, you were so young, basically still a child yourself.’ Father Harris paused and drew in a slow and steady breath. ‘While it was done with the best of intentions, your parents have put you in a very difficult position.’
Nodding in agreement, she sucked in a shuddering breath, keen to hear his advice.
‘Aunt Annie, are you in there?’ Morgan’s little voice carried through the curtain.
‘Oh my gosh, Morgan.’ Annie shot to her feet and tugged the curtain open. ‘I thought I told you to wait in the car.’
How much of her confession had he just heard?
‘I know, and I’m sorry.’ Morgan screwed his face up. ‘I tried to stay there, but I really need the toilet.’
Her hand upon her chest, she fought to slow her galloping heart. ‘Okay, come on then.’ Planting on a smile that she was far from feeling, she took him by the hand just as Father Harris reappeared. ‘I’m sorry, Father, but I have to take him to the little boys’ room.’
‘Yes, so I hear.’ He shone a warm smile in Morgan’s direction, but it slipped a little when he glanced back at her. ‘God exonerates our sins when we repent, Annie. But someone else has to forgive.’ He regarded her with wisdom and kindness. ‘When you’re ready, and able, you’ll have to find a way to forgive yourself, too.’
Annie almost broke then and there. ‘I’ll do my best, thank you, Father Harris.’ Overcome with a dizzying mix of relief, remorse and fear, she was suddenly desperate for fresh air. ‘And can you please make sure this stays between us?’
‘Yes, of course.’ His smile was reassuring. ‘This is between me, you and …’ he pointed upwards, ‘our maker.’
CHAPTER
1
Silverton Shores, 18 years later …
After hitting the sack at a reasonable hour, and surprisingly achieving a solid eight hours of sleep, Jessica Sabatini had woken at the crack of dawn with a firm belief that even at twenty-two years young, her life couldn’t possibly get any better. At least not until she and the love of her life had the two children they’d spoken at length about – a boy and a girl, two boys, two girls, she didn’t care, just as long as they were healthy, their dad was Morgan Savage, and they were all calling Savage Acres their home. Then her life would be all she’d ever dreamed of and more, she was sure of it. And as the hours had ticked by, she’d savoured this safe, joyful feeling deep down in her soul. Had tucked it away for the rare days she might need a reminder of just how lucky she was. A realist at heart, she knew life was never all roses. Doing her best to avoid the prickly thorns was all part of the journey.
Now, standing on the balcony of the ritzy penthouse suite at the new Silverton Shores Resort, she smiled as brightly as the mid-morning sunshine caressed her olive skin and the sea breeze stirred her long brunette curls. She looked to the canopy of powdery blue sky stretching cloudlessly to the sun-soaked horizon, then to the turquoise sea sparkling as if studded with diamonds, and her smile spread even wider. She couldn’t believe, after imagining it for six years, that the big day for her and Morgan had finally arrived – and by the looks of it, Mother Nature had most certainly come to the party, too. If only her grandparents could have made it across the ocean, but Florence, Italy, was a long way, especially when her nonna’s health was deteriorating.
Way too rapidly.
Inside the penthouse, where they were having their hair whipped into elaborate updos by the town’s only mobile hairdresser, her two bridesmaids, older sister Annie and best friend Shanti, cackled like a pair of kookaburras. The sound of their laughter sent Jess’s already buoyant happiness soaring into the heavens, where she hoped it would meet their recently departed local priest, Father Harris. He’d had a good wicket, making it to one hundred and one, but even so, she was sad he wasn’t the one to be marrying her and Morgan. Not wanting to allow her mood to plummet with grief at his passing, she focused on the music playing from the portable speaker inside when Brad Paisley’s ‘Waitin’ on a Woman’ was abruptly cut short then Trisha Yearwood’s ‘She’s In Love With The Boy’ began.
‘Oh my gosh, I love this song!’ she called through the open French doors.
‘We know you do!’ A united response came from Annie and Shanti.
Jess chuckled. ‘Oh, do you now?’ How could they not, when she’d basically played it to death?
Singing the lyrics with gusto, she jiggled on the spot, once again feeling like the luckiest woman alive to have the hunkiest, kindest, most loving husband-to-be, the greatest of friends, and the most supportive of parents. Very soon she’d officially be calling Morgan’s wonderful mum and dad, Carol and Gary Savage, her own, too. Ever since her brother Roberto’s best friend, and her secret crush for as long as she could remember, the incredibly desirable Morgan Savage, had leant in and kissed her the night of her sixteenth birthday, her world had been a magical place. And now, in a matter of hours, in front of their family and friends, she’d be hooking her arm into her father’s and taking steps down the aisle to legitimately become the Mrs Savage. Then, in a matter of days, she and Morgan would be jumping aboard a plane for their chosen honeymoon destination of Florence, Italy, with possible side trips to Venice, the Amalfi Coast and the five seaside villages of Cinque Terre.
Ahhh, la dolce vita … the sweet life.
Her hands going to her swooning heart, she sighed with pleasure. It had been four years since she’d been to what she considered the most romantic city in the world, and she couldn’t wait to introduce Morgan to her father’s hometown and see her doting grandparents again. An entire month of glorious Italian sunshine, delicious handmade pastas, creamy gelato, juicy Florentine steaks, plenty of lip-smacking vino, and days and nights spent wandering the cobblestone streets hand in hand after making the sweetest of love in their Airbnb – their honeymoon was going to be an absolute dream come true.
Caught up in her Italian heaven, she briefly closed her eyes and exhaled softly. Blessed. Happy. Content. Excited. Optimistic. Head over heels in love. She was all these things, and more. Momentarily transfixed by the jaw-dropping view of her quaint seaside hometown surrounded by lush, green mountains that reached for the skies, she took another tentative sip from her glass of pink bubbly. Raising her hand to shade her eyes, she shifted her gaze from two seagulls sailing overhead to where waves rose, rolled, and then reached for the white-sand shoreline, caressing it with foamy kisses. The ebb and flow of nature’s heartbeat was so strong here, and so beautiful to bear witness to.
‘Hey, Jessie, it’s your turn for hair and make-up.’ Her singsong voice carrying, Shanti stuck her roller-clad head out the doorway. ‘Would you like a top-up while you’re being pampered, my darling bestie?’
