The House At Flynn's Crossing

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘Right. Sorry, I’m being rude. Thanks for coming.’ He stood up but rested his hand on the bed for a moment, steadying himself before bending for the overnight bag. Maybe she hadn’t noticed … No such luck. Margie stepped forward and scooped it up.

  ‘I can take it,’ he said.

  ‘No, I will,’ she said. ‘You just keep quiet and sit in the wheelchair.’

  ‘Wheelchair?’ Was there no end to this indignity?

  ‘The orderly will be along in a minute. They’re not taking any chances, Flynn. They want to see you safely off the premises so you can’t sue them for negligence if you fall over in the corridor.’

  Even though he grumbled and would never have admitted it, the walk would have been slow and awkward with one leg unwieldy in the moon boot, one arm strapped in place, that damn crutch under the other and a couple of busted ribs.

  In the car, he sat beside her quietly as she drove. Apart from a grimace or two as he lowered himself onto the seat, he figured he’d got away with how painful and exhausting any movement was. He did allow her to fasten his seatbelt.

  ‘I’m really very grateful to you for coming to get me, Margie. Thanks.’

  ‘No worries, Flynn.’

  ‘What’s happened with the protest at the site?’

  ‘Nothing. Pat turned up and they finished clearing the rubble away and that was it.’

  ‘Waste of time protesting about it. Who were those ring-ins?’

  ‘We don’t know. They didn’t stick around but they’ll probably be back.’

  ‘Great. Any word from Sean?’

  ‘No.’

  To his surprise, she swung down his road and into his driveway when they reached Flynn’s Crossing. Had Antonia changed her mind about having him stay? Had she asserted herself and said no? He didn’t dare ask. A small part of him was disappointed.

  ‘Don’t get your hopes up,’ Margie said. ‘We’re just stopping in here to collect your mail and let you pick up a few more clothes.’

  ‘Are you sure Antonia is happy to have me there?’

  Margie opened her door before she answered.

  ‘Yes, she is. Why wouldn’t she be?’

  ‘I thought you and Cath might have talked her into it. It’s not like I know her as well as I know the rest of you.’

  ‘We would have had you, of course, but Bernie’s got some sort of stomach bug and you don’t want that along with all this …’ She waved her arm vaguely at his strapped-up arm. ‘Tell me what you want me to get.’

  So she wasn’t even letting him out of the car. He gave up. ‘A couple more T-shirts, long-sleeved ones should be in the drawer too, and the blue sweatshirt on the chair in the bedroom. More underwear and a pair of shorts from the shelf in the cupboard, thanks.’

  ‘Back in a minute.’

  ***

  Antonia opened the front door with a wildly beating heart. Margie had reported in at the cafe after she dropped Flynn off so he was here, safely ensconced in her house.

  ‘Grumpy as all get out but he’s in a fair bit of pain though he won’t admit it, the stubborn idiot,’ Margie said. ‘What is it with these men? They’re either completely helpless with the slightest thing—Bernie thinks he’s at death’s door at the moment—or they pretend everything’s fine when it’s clearly not.’

  Antonia didn’t know what to say to that. She hadn’t had enough experience with men. Murdoch had never been sick and Dad rarely. Even if he was, first her mum and now Jax would care for him.

  The door swung wide. Jacob and Sarah pushed in ahead of her, dumping their school bags on the floor and running into the living room in search of their guest.

  ‘We’re home, Flynn,’ they yelled.

  ‘Pick those bags up, please,’ Antonia called. ‘And be quiet, Flynn might be asleep.’ Fat chance of that after their entrance.

  Contrary to her own misgivings, the twins had none. At some stage Flynn had been received into their inner circle, which was good because it meant they were losing their fear of men but not so good because it meant she would be forced to pretend she was equally accepting of his proximity. Which she was on one level but on another, a deep-seated primal one, she was terrified. Not of him so much as herself—how she would cope sharing the same space, helping with personal things. How she would breathe and how she would stop the fantasy of Flynn touching her, kissing her.

  ‘I’m lying down,’ he called.

  By the time Antonia reached the spare room, Jacob and Sarah were already there, leaning on the bed and asking about the support on his foot, the sling and the crutch propped against the bedside table.

  ‘I don’t need that thing,’ Flynn said. ‘I’ve got this moon boot.’ He looked up at Antonia and smiled, sending her pulse into overdrive.

  ‘A moon boot,’ Jacob said. ‘You’re a spaceman.’

  ‘Go and put your bags in your room, please,’ she said.

  ‘Can Flynn watch our afternoon TV program with us?’

  ‘If he wants to. Bags. Now. And wash your hands and change your clothes too.’

  The pair trailed out of the room.

  She turned to Flynn. ‘Sorry. They’re very excited. How are you?’ Amazingly, somehow, her voice sounded normal.

  He sat up slowly, using his good arm as leverage but grimacing with pain. Should she offer assistance? She stepped forward hesitantly, arm outstretched, but he managed and swung his legs to the floor, the moon boot clunking on the mat.

  ‘I’ve been better.’ Those blue eyes had lost none of their laser power, holding her effortlessly. ‘What about you? Are you okay with having me here? Don’t let Margie and co railroad you. They’re good at that.’

  ‘I know they are. But it’s fine. Really. You can see how keen the twins are.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘It’s fine.’ She turned away, took the crutch and handed it to him. ‘Use this.’

  ‘Thanks. I just need it to stand up. I reckon I could manage at home but no one else seems to think so.’

  She shook her head. Margie was right. ‘Don’t be mad, of course you can’t, you can barely move. I’m making afternoon tea for the twins. Would you like something?’

  ‘I’ll come to the kitchen. Would you just give me a hand with my shoe, please?’

  A sandal lay on the floor. She knelt quickly and slipped it onto his good foot.

  He ditched the crutch and hobbled after her to the kitchen where she set about making tea and pouring glasses of milk while he settled himself at the table. The twins came in all giggles and questions, which Flynn answered as best he could, smiling at their excited chatter. She placed a plate of oatmeal biscuits in front of them.

  ‘Is your car all smashed?’ asked Jacob.

  ‘Yes.’ Flynn caught Antonia’s eye and grimaced.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said.

  ‘The accident wasn’t your fault.’

  ‘But you were coming to pick us up. I should have driven myself in the first place. I could have managed. I was …’

  ‘Why did you crash?’ Sarah asked through a mouthful of biscuit.

  Flynn looked at Jacob and Sarah. ‘A couple of roos came from nowhere. It happens all the time in the bush and sometimes they’re impossible to miss, no matter how careful you are. Some of them are really big and fast. It was in a mountainous stretch with thick trees and lots of corners.’

  ‘What happened to them?’

  ‘I don’t know but they weren’t on the road later. Constable Pat said.’

  ‘So the roos weren’t hurt,’ Sarah said. ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Yes it is.’

  ‘Will you get a new car?’ asked Jacob.

  ‘Yes. When I’m better.’ And when the insurance company had paid up. He’d have to go down-market with his next car, given the state of his finances at the moment. No more brand new BMWs.

  ‘Can we go in your new car?’

  ‘You can be the first passengers.’

  ‘What colour will it be?’

/>   ‘Eat,’ said Antonia. ‘And give Flynn a chance to have some tea.’ She picked up her own cup. ‘Sorry. They won’t stop unless you tell them to.’

  Flynn smiled. ‘I don’t mind.’ He winked at Sarah, who tried unsuccessfully to wink back.

  ‘If you get tired you can go back to bed,’ Antonia said.

  ‘I will.’ He speared her with a look, which sent hot blood to her face. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘Can we watch our program now?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘All right.’

  ‘Come with us, Flynn.’

  ‘I will in a little while.’

  ‘Okay.’

  The silence was almost oppressive when they’d gone. Did he feel it too, or was it just her? Antonia poured more tea into her half-full cup. Flynn had barely touched his but he took a second biscuit.

  ‘Did you make these?’

  ‘Yes. I love cooking.’

  ‘They’re very good.’

  ‘Len said I should take some to the cafe and see how they go.’

  ‘You should.’

  ‘One day I’d like to study cooking properly, but first I have to …’ She’d been going to say finish high school. That would have to wait until next year the way things were shaping up at the moment. She’d had such plans when she arrived but time had slipped out of her grasp. Earning money, being a mother, running the house …

  ‘Have to what?’

  ‘Oh, you know, get settled, earn some more money.’

  Why couldn’t she simply tell him? He wouldn’t think any the less of her. Why was she so nervous while he sat there relaxed and looking as comfortable as anyone could with broken bones and bruises? It was ridiculous. She was ridiculous. He was a man she knew, a man she trusted, a man who posed no threat to her at all. He needed her help and she was providing it. He’d been helping her when he crashed—she owed him.

  So why couldn’t she look him in the eye and why was it suddenly much hotter and where was the air in the room? She swigged down her tea.

  He shifted in his chair and hissed through his teeth at a stab of pain. ‘I must remember not to do that.’ The action instantly refocused her.

  ‘I feel so guilty,’ she said. ‘If you hadn’t been coming to get us this would never have happened.’ She clenched her fist and banged it lightly on the table. ‘I was so stupid. There was no reason I couldn’t drive myself.’

  His warm hand closed over hers, sending a jolt of electricity up her arm. ‘Hindsight is a wonderful thing,’ he said. ‘But we do what we think is right at the time. That’s all we can ever do.’

  ‘Sometimes it’s completely wrong.’

  She relaxed her clammy fingers but he didn’t release his hold and she didn’t pull away. She didn’t dare look into his eyes; instead she studied the tanned skin on the back of his hand.

  How different Flynn’s situation would be if she’d gritted her teeth and refused his offer of a lift. How different her life would be if she’d walked away from Murdoch instead of with him. Or had walked into the clinic. Or had left Simon alone at school and not become a teenage pregnancy statistic in the first place.

  ‘Are we talking about the same thing?’ he asked softly.

  She flung him a weak smile. ‘I think so.’ The past was gone, unchangeable. Focus on now. ‘Chance plays a big part too. If you’d driven a fraction faster or slower, or left five minutes earlier or later, or taken the other route this wouldn’t have happened.’

  Flynn laughed. ‘That’s right. I might have been hit by a semi-trailer and killed.’

  ‘No! That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘I know but as you say, it’s chance, isn’t it, what happens to us and how we make choices based on those things?’

  Antonia sighed. ‘Seems to be. Although sometimes good things come out of the bad.’

  ‘Like?’

  ‘If I hadn’t become pregnant at seventeen I wouldn’t have my beautiful children.’

  ‘That’s true, but if your parents hadn’t been supportive you would have been bundled off to have a termination.’

  She pressed her finger on a biscuit crumb and dropped it on her saucer.

  He said in a voice tinged with doubt, ‘They were supportive, weren’t they? You said …’

  ‘Yes, of course. It took a while but … yes.’ She stood abruptly and began clearing the table.

  ‘I always have the feeling you’re not telling me everything.’ He was probing without actually asking outright. He just couldn’t let it be.

  ‘Of course I’m not. Why should I tell you everything about myself?’

  ‘Because I’d like to know everything there is to know about you.’

  She faced him then, anger rising. ‘Why? Have you told me everything there is to know about you?’

  ‘Would you like to know everything about me?’ he countered.

  ‘Not particularly.’ She turned back to the sink and began washing the cups and plates. Liar. She wanted to know about Flynn, about the woman in Brisbane, what she meant to him.

  ‘I’ll tell you one thing if you tell me one thing.’

  She bent her head and tried not to laugh. He was as bad as the twins. ‘You’ve been mixing with five-year-olds too much.’

  ‘Five-year-olds are very open.’

  Antonia hesitated but maybe Flynn did deserve something. He’d probably find out soon enough, when the trial started. ‘Now mine are,’ she said. ‘They weren’t before. We lived with a man who wouldn’t let them speak unless spoken to. He was very strict. They had to be quiet all the time. They were frightened of him and that’s why they were afraid of you at first. They thought all men were like that.’

  ‘He didn’t hurt them did he?’ Anger darkened his face.

  ‘No, not physically.’

  ‘Why did you stay? Did you love him?’

  She pulled the plug and the water drained away with a gurgle and slurp. ‘That’s my one piece of information. Your turn.’

  ‘Fair enough. I wish I could stand up.’

  She swung around, indignant. ‘That’s it? That’s not fair.’

  Flynn laughed. ‘No, that’s not it. Come here so I can tell you.’ He held out his hand and she took a step closer. ‘Come on, I won’t bite. I can barely do anything, let alone something classed as dangerous.’

  She smiled. ‘Makes a change, doesn’t it?’ But she came to stand next to him.

  He grasped her hand and gently pulled her closer and down so she had to lean over.

  ‘So what are you going to tell me?’

  ‘I’ve wanted to kiss you since the first moment I saw you.’ He paused, giving her time to react, to pull away but she didn’t. Slowly the pressure on her fingers increased and she found herself bending towards his face, hypnotised by the thought of his lips on hers, incapable of resisting, stunned by his words. He stretched up to meet her, slipped his hand around her neck and planted his mouth firmly on hers.

  Antonia froze.

  Chapter 15

  Flynn released her instantly.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I couldn’t resist any longer.’

  Her mouth was still inches from his. She didn’t move, eyes locked on his, wide with surprise.

  ‘Antonia?’ he whispered.

  She straightened abruptly and turned away, but not before he saw the rush of hot blood to her cheeks. At least she hadn’t screamed or whacked him with the teapot.

  ‘Actually, I’m not sorry at all,’ he said, encouraged. ‘Not about kissing you. I’ll never be sorry about that. I’m only sorry I surprised you.’

  Still she didn’t turn but the hands clenched by her sides relaxed and she raised her palms to press against her cheeks. ‘It’s okay,’ she said softly. ‘I didn’t mind. Not really.’

  ‘I can do better than that,’ he said. ‘I will next time.’

  ‘Next time?’ As he’d hoped, her voice gained strength at the teasing tone.

  ‘Oh yes, there’ll definitely be a next time, but not until you say
I can.’

  She faced him then, a tentative smile on her lips. ‘Okay. Deal.’

  ‘Flynn,’ yelled Jacob from the other room. ‘Come and watch with us.’

  ‘Coming,’ he called. He hauled himself to his feet, wincing as his cracked rib sent a stabbing pain through his chest.

  ‘Are you all right?’ Instantly she was by his side, grasping his arm, steadying him.

  ‘Yes, fine.’

  ‘You are not,’ she said. ‘Don’t be so macho.’

  ‘I’m not macho, I’m a sensitive new age guy.’

  That brought a laugh. ‘Sure you are.’ She guided him towards the door; hopping out of the way when, losing balance, he clumped his foot down. ‘Watch where you put your moon boot, rocket man.’

  Flynn grinned. ‘Hear that, kids? I’m a rocket man, your mum said so.’

  ‘Sit there.’ Sarah pointed to the couch. She and Jacob were sprawled on big cushions on the floor.

  He hobbled across and eased himself down. ‘What are we watching?’

  ‘Cartoons with Daffy Duck.’

  ‘Looney Tunes. Great!’ Better than expected, much better.

  ‘Don’t overdo it,’ murmured Antonia.

  ‘What? I love Looney Tunes, don’t you? I haven’t watched cartoons for years.’

  ‘Watch with us, Mummy.’

  ‘Yes, watch with us, Mummy,’ said Flynn. He patted the couch next to him.

  ‘Okay, just for a little while, then I have things to do.’

  ‘They can wait,’ said Flynn.

  The twins beamed at him then turned their attention to Porky Pig. Antonia sat next to him, leaving a sizeable gap, but that was fine. She wasn’t upset by the kiss and she hadn’t vetoed more in the future. Not a bad state of affairs.

  After dinner Flynn was co-opted into reading stories, which turned out to be surprisingly enjoyable, especially as his audience encouraged his attempts at character voices.

  ‘I haven’t read Winnie the Pooh since I was a kid,’ he said when he rejoined Antonia in the kitchen, having discovered his fans were asleep. She wiped the sponge over the bench and dried her hands.

  ‘We’re working our way through the classics,’ she said. ‘They’ve missed out on so much. Winnie The Pooh is a favourite at the moment.’