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Back The Cottage at Rosella Cove Save as PDF
Chapters (50)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty-one
  25. Twenty-two
  26. Twenty-three
  27. Twenty-four
  28. Twenty-five
  29. Twenty-six
  30. Twenty-seven
  31. Twenty-eight
  32. Twenty-nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty-one
  35. Thirty-two
  36. Thirty-three
  37. Thirty-four
  38. Thirty-five
  39. Thirty-six
  40. Thirty-seven
  41. Thirty-eight
  42. Thirty-nine
  43. Acknowledgements
  44. About the Author
  45. Also by Sandie Docker
  46. Book Club Questions
  47. Welcome to the Kookaburra Creek Café
  48. Prologue
  49. One
  50. Sign up to Read More and discover new favourites

He is not from around here, or any town close by, that is certain. Something about him reads city, though I do not know from which one he comes. He has asked me no questions and I will return in kind.

He is in the boatshed still. I told him he was welcome to stay for as long as he needs. He carries no possessions, save the worn and dirty clothes on his back. I know not why he was passing that night, or where he was heading. He said he will stay until he fixes the door and then move on.

You will think me careless, I know, inviting a stranger to stay. But I had to offer him kindness, shelter, for what he did. And if you did send him, then I know I must look after him. There must be some purpose to him finding me, saving me.

I am full of shame and guilt. Can you forgive me?

This strange man who rescued me is intriguing. His face is covered in dirt and he wears a perpetual scowl but I detect a gentleness in his spirit. I do not fear him, though perhaps I should.

Time alone will tell.

Time. So often we speak of Time as a friend – how it heals our wounds, how it is on our side, how our happiest moments are the times of our life. Yet Time is also our enemy. We waste so much of it and can never go back to fix the mistakes or relive the joy. We wear the scars of Time across our face. Time claims each one of us in the end. It is the herald of death.

Time … I know I have spent too much of it alone. I know that I have wished, still wish, perhaps, my Time here to end. I do not know how Time-to-come will pass or what I am supposed to do with it.

Evening comes again. Time eternal. I have allowed him to stay in the boatshed these past two nights. It was the least I could do. There is a light on in there now. I have offered him supper, but he declined.

I have learned his name is Charlie. The irony of this was not lost on me and I had to hold back long buried tears for our lost little one.

Am I to look after this angel you sent? Will he stay?

Forgive me, my love, and help me find the strength I need for whatever is next to come.

Forever yours,

Ivy

Twenty-eight

Exhaustion washed over Nicole as she dozed in the wicker chair in the afternoon sun that flooded the verandah. It had been a very big day. After she returned from her Scrabble game with Charlie she finished applying the last of the undercoat to the hallway and cleaned up the rest of the cottage.