didn’t believe him.
And that more than anything Callie had said or his family could say got through to him. He needed to stop thinking about making amends and actually start doing something about it.
‘Hey, Iz, I know things are kinda busy around here, with everyone getting ready for Uncle Trav’s wedding, but if it’s okay with your dad why don’t I take you surfing tomorrow?’
She stared at him in disbelief for a good five seconds before an ear-splitting grin indicated he’d done the right thing.
With a loud screech that had every guest in the place looking their way, she released him and ran towards Tom, about six feet away, yelling loud enough to be heard in Melbourne. ‘Uncle Arch is taking me surfing! Yay, yay, yay!’
His family stared at him in unison.
Tom’s warning glare spoke volumes: You’d better not let my kid down this time.
Trav was giving him a thumbs-up of encouragement.
His mum’s soft smile was warm and appreciative and hopeful.
His dad gave a brief nod of approval before he glanced away, unable to look him in the eye as usual.
Well, he’d make Frank Flett look him in the eye before he left this time. If the surf school didn’t show his dad he was worthy and responsible he’d face this situation head-on regardless.
Callie’s pep talk had got him thinking. He’d spent too many years being an outcast in his own family—his choosing. Time to discover the truth about what had happened during his dad’s illness, and why they hadn’t deemed him fit to know at the time.
And he had Callie to thank for giving him the push he needed.
‘Thanks.’ He caressed her cheek with his fingertips, a fleeting gesture he hoped conveyed even half of what he was thinking.
‘For what?’
‘Everything,’ he said, pulling her in for a quick hug to the sound of embarrassing applause from his family.
She laughed as they disengaged, and as he took in her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes and smiling mouth he realised how much he’d given up in walking away from her all those years ago.
And he’d end up doing it again.
He didn’t want to lose her, but he didn’t trust himself to make her happy. He’d analysed it at length: if his family didn’t trust him when the going got rough, was it him?
Was it because he didn’t inspire trust in people? And if his own family didn’t trust him, how could he connect emotionally with a woman like Callie?
Where did that leave them?
Damned if he knew.
While Izzy alternated between dancing around Tom and tearing towards him, he grabbed Callie’s hand and tugged her towards his family.
He made arrangements with Tom to pick up Izzy in the morning, slapped Trav on the back and hugged his mum.
When it came to Frank, the inevitable questions bubbled to the forefront of his mind.
Why didn’t you tell me, Dad?
Why didn’t you let me be there for you?
Why did you trust the others and not me?
He didn’t ask. Now wasn’t the time. But before he left this trip he’d discover the truth behind all the pain.
They stood there, self-conscious and ill at ease. Archer wanted to say so much, yet he was plagued by the same discomfort that inevitably occurred around his dad these days. When Frank tried a tentative grin Archer shook his hand and mumbled something about seeing him at the wedding. He wanted answers, but right now he was plain exhausted.
This emotional re-bonding took it out of a guy, and hot on the heels of his realisation that he didn’t want to lose Callie...well, Archer knew he had some serious thinking to do.
* * *
When Archer had invited Izzy to surf he’d envisaged the two of them having a little uncle-niece bonding time.
What he hadn’t imagined was the entire Flett clan descending on the beach for an impromptu picnic. Izzy loved the attention and the mayhem and the laughter. Him—not so much.
As he watched Trav elbow their dad and share a laugh with him on the foreshore, regret strengthened his resolve to put the past behind him and move on.
Regret that he’d missed out on being there for his dad when he’d needed him most.
Regret that he’d missed out on so much with his family because of his deliberate withdrawal.
Regret that he hadn’t confronted the issue sooner because of his damned pride.
‘Hey, you’re not watching me!’ Izzy’s yell refocussed his attention on where it should be: refining her pop up technique.
‘I am now, squirt.’
As she sprang from her knees to a standing position, arms stretched out sideways, her grin wide and proud, some of his residual tension whenever his family were around eased.
He’d wasted enough time hanging onto old hurts, and he had missed out on spending time with Izzy as a result.
No more.
‘You’re a natural,’ he said, sweeping her into his arms and tickling her until she squealed.
‘I wanna go in the water,’ she said, grabbing both his ears and twisting until he released her.
Rubbing them, he tried to frown and failed, his mouth twitching with suppressed laughter instead. ‘Ow, Iz, that hurt.’
‘Wuss,’ she said, poking out her tongue, mischief sparking in blue eyes the colour of the ocean behind her.
‘That’s it. Lesson’s over.’
She giggled and ran into the shallows, kicking water at him as he followed. They dodged and weaved and splashed until he tackled her, scooped her in his arms and made for deeper water.
‘My daddy will get cross at you for taking me out so far.’ She pouted, but there was no denying the mischievous twinkle in her eyes or mistaking the devious machinations of an intelligent, conniving child who’d say anything to avoid a good old-fashioned dunking.
‘Your daddy’s laughing as hard as Nan and Pop,’ he said, laughing when she glanced towards shore and saw he spoke the truth.
‘Put me down,’ she said, pummelling his shoulders, so he obliged, chuckling as a wave swamped them and Iz resurfaced, a wide-eyed, bedraggled imp with a grin as wide as the stretch of beach.
Archer lost track of how long they frolicked in the waves—duck-diving, playing tag—and he didn’t care. The longer he stayed out here with Izzy, in the one place he felt truly at home, the easier it became to let go of the past.
He’d recaptured some of the magic with his niece and he’d be damned if he lost it again.
Now if only he could do the same with his dad.
‘I’m hungry,’ Izzy said, flinging her arms around his neck and hanging on tight. ‘And thirsty.’
‘Okay, kiddo, let’s go attack that mountain of food your nan brought along.’
As he waded into shore with Izzy in his arms and strode towards his family their collective expressions gave him hope for the future. Approval, warmth, relief and optimism—the latter on his dad’s weather-lined face as admiration lit his smile.
Yeah, it was definitely time to put the past behind him, and he owed it all to Callie.
As if on cue she popped out from the main office of the surf school, where she’d been putting a few finishing touches to the website.
He