by Siân James
I can’t believe I almost let him kiss me in the middle of my workplace! I was the boss here. I was the person paying these guys wages. I wasn’t supposed to be a drama for their entertainment.
What was wrong with me?
I glanced back at Matt who’d shoved his hands into his pockets again, all traces of passion wiped from his face and replaced by a wary stoicism.
“I really have to …” I took a few steps towards the door.
“Go?” he supplied dryly.
“Uh, yeah.” I turned and fled.
Chapter 11
I coasted down the gentle incline until I saw the gravel driveway near the bottom of the long road and applied the brakes.
The late afternoon was too shiny and bright to be confined indoors, even in a car, so I’d taken my bike to Mum and Jim’s for dinner. The air was crystal clear after yesterday’s rain, everything washed clean of dust, dirt and salt spray. The green of the leaves seemed greener, the blue of the sky bluer, and it felt like if I just turned my head quick enough, I’d capture that sparkle of luminous air I kept sensing in the corner of my eye. Late summer days made it hard to stay in a bad mood for long.
Still, I was finding it hard to shake mine.
Yesterday’s almost-kiss with Matt was weighing heavily on my mind. I couldn’t work out which one of us had made the mistake. Was it Matt for being so presumptuous as to ask for a kiss? Or was it me for running before it happened, denying us both something we obviously wanted.
If I’d wondered before whether he was interested in me or not, I had my answer now. No way was he going to almost kiss me in front of contractors on his building site without meaning it.
So I guess he meant it.
Though he can’t have really meant it because his time in Emerald Cove was on a timer. He had a job in the city to get back to.
Judging by my dreams last night, if I’d followed through, I would have meant it too.
Though they’d not been as sexually stimulating as my previous dreams. In the most vivid one, I’d been waiting in a park for Matt to arrive. The trees were close around me so it almost felt as if it was indoors, private but not. I’d been anticipating his arrival with trepidation because I’d said or done something I knew he was upset about it. I wanted to apologise but when he arrived, he walked right past me to the swings where some kids were playing. I tried to follow him to explain but I was stuck in thick air.
I called out to him, hoping he’d come back so I could explain, but he turned his back on me and started swinging on the tire swing, his rejection as sure as if he spoken it aloud.
Pulling my bike to a stop beside the steps that led up to the verandah and front door of Mum and Jim’s home, I scrunched my eyes against the pulsing mortification that seemed to have its own life inside me.
The guilt I felt at leading him on—had I led him on?—and the embarrassment over the kiss-misfire and my awkward escape knew no bounds. It pounded at my senses in a way I had trouble concentrating. In an uncharacteristic day off, I’d taken to the waves this morning to clear my head. It had helped a little, which was good because I didn’t want to appear distracted with Mum and Jim.
Jim had lived in the old Queenslander style home for about ten years before he met Mum, moving in a few years after he lost his first wife to cancer. He had developed a nasty flu and was hospitalised for over a week on Mum’s ward. He liked to say he woke up one day, his head clear of the grogginess and fever and an angel was standing over him. When she told him she was going to take his temperature and pulled his earlobe down for the aural thermometer, he said he fell in love. He was the only person I knew who was convinced he’d fallen in love at first sight twice in his life—with his first wife, then with Mum. I was more inclined to think he was a hopeless romantic.
When Mum had moved in with Jim, she sold her small two-bedroom home closer to town and paid a huge amount off the mortgage. They remortgaged the property, both names being placed on the deed, and last winter they had a huge party when together they’d paid off the final installment.
Jim had two sons from his first marriage, both living up in Byron Bay with their families and both really nice guys, though I didn’t see them much. Their wives and kids would come visit “the farm” often, and Mum loved that the kids had started calling her Suey.
I dropped my bike to the ground and skipped up the steps, not bothering with knocking because the front door was open, only the screen door closed against the flies and other creepy crawlies.
“Mum! Jim!” I called as I breached the door.
“In here, love!” Jim's voice and some delicious smells came from the kitchen, so I followed my nose, dumping my helmet and handbag on the couch as I passed.
Jim straightened, closing the oven door as I entered and placed a crumpled tea towel on the bench. I gave him a peck on the cheek before helping myself to a glass of water. “Something smells good.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
Jim enjoyed starting conversations as if we were in the middle of one. He did it with everyone, said he liked to keep people on their toes. I raised a brow.
He gave me a stern look, the smile lines at the corner of his eyes telling me he was holding his grin just below the surface. “You know why you’re here. Your mother hasn’t seen you in weeks, not since the renovations started and she’s dropped around a few times—to your apartment and the new place and you’re never there. She needs to 'touch base’ ”. He lifted his hands and put speech marks around his words.
I smiled. Jim was a straight talker which I very much appreciated. He was barefoot which was usual when he was pottering around at home, his gardening clothes dirt-stained and faded.
While he spoke, he’d also pulled a wine glass form the cupboard and a bottle of white that had already been opened from the fridge. He poured me a healthy amount. “Ice?”
I nodded. “I can get it.”
“Dinner will be ready in about”—he checked his bare wrist—“forty minutes. She’s on the back verandah. May the force be with you.”
He turned and headed out through the front of the house.
Shaking my head at his dramatics, I moved through the door to the back of the house. In typical Queenslander style, the verandah wrapped the whole way around the house, and Mum and Jim had furnished it with several seating options which they favoured depending on the time of year and time of day.
This afternoon Mum was on the northeastern corner in the love seat swing, her feet curled up underneath her. Her free hand curled a strand of hair around her finger as the sun sank below the range in the distance.
Long shadows from the gum trees meant the corner was sheltered from the heat of the sun but still had the best of the sea breezes, which gently caught the wind chimes hanging in the corner. Their chiming added a languid melody to the warm afternoon.
“Darling.” Mum smiled at me as I padded down the verandah.
She was in a flowy white and yellow sundress that probably hit her at mid-calf but was currently twisted up, exposing her legs from mid-thighs to the breeze. Her greying, curly hair was bound in a white scarf wrapped around her head, and she held a glass of wine like mine in one hand.
“Hey, Mum.” I gave her a peck on the cheek then curled up in the corner opposite her, sending the chair swinging and decided opening with an apology would be the best way to start. “Sorry I’ve been a bit MIA. things have just been a bit busy lately.”
“You’re forgiven. I’m glad you could make time for us this afternoon. Tell me, how's young Matt Carter going?”
I froze.
An ambush. This was an ambush. I should’ve seen it coming. I knew Mum and Joy were friends, and Mum’s invitation to dinner came the day after I’d run into Joy outside Matt’s apartment.
Quickly gathering my wits, I took a sip of the cool wine. “He’s good, I think. I haven’t been to the site today so I didn’t see him.” Deciding to be more forthcoming than not in an effort of self-preservation I c
ontinued by telling her how he’d helped me out yesterday with the generator, leaving out all the sexual tension and his payment request.
“How kind of him.” She scrutinised me over the rim of her glass.
“Yes, it was.” I wondered where she was going with this. Since she met Jim six years ago, she’d started asking questions about some of my male friends or men she saw in town who I was at school with. I got the impression she was fishing for interest. It had been over four years since I’d been in a relationship and two since I’d bothered with a date. I’d gladly given up that part of my life when I started putting so much time into my businesses. Besides, Mum had never warmed to any of my boyfriends, anyway.
“Joy tells me he lives in the same apartment building as you.” Yes, she was definitely fishing.
“He does.” I took another sip of wine.
“He’s very good looking too.”
Now here was a dilemma. Did I pretend as though I hadn’t noticed, thereby gaining her attention because a blind nun couldn’t miss how hot Matt Carter was, or did I confirm and hope she left it alone? “That he is.”
She nodded as if agreeing with me, then came to the point. “You should ask him out.”
I’d closed my eyes against the gentle rocking and now opened one to peer at her, a knowing smile on my lips as if I was amused by her antics while tangentially my heart thundered in my chest.
How much did she know? Did she know one of the contractors who witnessed our almost-kiss yesterday? Emerald Cove wasn’t a big town, and being the head nurse on the infectious diseases ward meant she knew a lot of people. The hospital, like the school and the surf club, was a hub of community gossip.
I decided a version of the truth would ensure I didn’t dig myself a hole if she knew more than she was currently letting on, or if she found out anything I hadn’t shared.
“I don’t have time for that, Mum. Plus, he’s only in town for a short time. He has a job in the city to get back to.”
More rocking ensued.
“Well now, there’s no harm in a few fun dates, a bit of flirting, maybe getting laid once or twice—”
“Mum!”
My mother had always been pretty liberal with her views. She was quick to put me on the pill as soon as I turned fifteen, even though I’d shown no interest in boys, and given me a large pack of condoms. Then she told me she didn’t regret having me for a second, but the best birth control was abstinence.
Because of my mother’s pep talks about living life and having a career before I settled down, I was the ripe old age of twenty-one before I lost my virginity. I was okay with that too, but the relationship hadn’t lasted long—he wanted to get married and settle down, but at the time I was about to graduate university with a degree in accounting. The sky was the limit, and the thought of giving that all up gave me the heebie-jeebies, so we went our separate ways.
I’d had one other semi-long-term relationship since, but to be honest, it was never going to go anywhere either. I stuck it out for as long as I did because he never asked much of me.
Where was I?
Oh yeah, my mother suggesting I get laid.
Who was this woman next to me? Had she forgotten the potential consequences of getting laid? I sat gaping at her, unable to form a coherent response and she tsked at me.
“Close your mouth, Isadora. And don’t be so old fashioned. You’re a grown woman, and you know how to protect yourself. It’s time you started living a little, taking some chances, falling in love.”
“What?”
“You’re more careful than I was.”
In the past, I wouldn’t have questioned whether her comment was a compliment or not, but considering her recent comments, I thought I detected a hint of censure in her tone. I bit my lips together.
“Loosen your girdle and let the light in.” She winked at me as Jim appeared with the bottle of wine and filled both our glasses once more.
“I have one more bed of French beans to plant before we lose the light, so I’ll need you ladies on the salad please. You can continue your tongue wagging inside.” Jim held out his free hand as he spoke and helped Mum from the chair. She rolled her eyes at me but couldn’t hide the smile from her face when Jim planted an affection kiss on her cheek. “None of that now,” he said gruffly, “or I’ll trade you in for a newer model.”
Mum swatted at his arm but he dodged out of her way, handed me the empty bottle of wine and took off for the garden again calling out, ”Salad!” before disappearing behind the hydrangeas.
Mum didn’t bring up the topic of Matt again while we made the salad, instead turning on the radio and alternatively singing along and filling me in of the comings and goings of her work colleagues, neighbours and friends.
My conversational input wasn’t required beyond the occasional “Hmm?” and “Oh really?” which suited me just fine, as I was preoccupied with her earlier words.
I was a grown woman, and I had resolved to act in a manner which, in my own opinion, constituted my happiness without reference to anyone else. As long as my choices didn’t hurt anyone … but it was becoming apparent that while I always considered my mother’s pride to be something I desired, I never thought about the consequences of incurring her disappointment. Specifically, her disappointment where romance was concerned.
Her experience with my father, the life she ended up living compared to the one she’d chosen had so clouded my upbringing. She wanted better for me and so I wanted better for me.
But at what cost? And when was I supposed to end my voluntary abstinence?
The idea that I would be open to a relationship because my mother suggested it rubbed me the wrong way, but I couldn’t help but feel as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders.
The opening chords of Roy Orbison’s You Got It started up as Jim entered the kitchen, bringing the scent of clean water and warm cotton with him, his hair still damp from the shower as he swept Mum into his arms taking her on a tour of the kitchen and serenaded her with the classic song.
She squealed as he spun and dipped her, love and joy radiating from them both, and I laughed at their exuberant display.
My chest squeezed. What would it be like to have someone sweep me up into his arms and dance me around the kitchen, just because he could? I let my thoughts go where they wanted, which of course lead to the image of me in Matt’s arms, one of his hands low on my back, the other with his fingers threaded through mine as we swayed to something romantic. We’d gaze into each other’s eyes, grinning until our smiles faded. His eyes would drop to my mouth, he’d lean in, his breath fanning my face until our lips-
“Bring the salad would you, love?”
I wrenched my mind from the daydream, grabbed the salad bowl and my wine and followed Jim and my mum to the back deck for dinner.
Chapter 12
I pulled into a car park a few blocks down from the community centre, turned off the engine and hustled. I was late for the Emerald Cove Business Owners Association monthly meeting. I wasn’t on the committee, but as a member I wanted to attend.
The centre was located near Tash’s little two-bedroom house, which had belonged to her grandma before she passed. She’d left it to Tash and Andy, but Andy already had his own place. Being the nice brother he was, he’d signed it over to Tash without wanting anything in return.
A twinge of guilt hit me between the shoulders. I’d neither seen nor heard from her for almost two weeks now. School had started, so she would have been rushed off her feet and exhausted welcoming in a new class of students, but still. Usually we celebrated the end of her first week back at school with a drink at the Grape.
I pulled out my phone and shot her a text to find out if she was busy that evening, then pocketed it and headed for the community centre.
People were milling about outside, and I greeted a few people as I moved through the crowd. Camille was already seated on a folded chair near the front of the room but surprisingly so was Tash. She sto
od next to Camille who was flirting with a. guy who’d been a few years ahead of me at school. He was hot with fantastic hair and worked as a physical therapist in the small practice in town.
Tash lifted her phone at me, pointing at it with a grin to indicate she’d just received my text. When I arrived, she gave me a hug and planted a kiss on my cheek.
“I’m most definitely free tonight.”
“What are you doing here?”
She waved her hand at Camille as we found our seats, then said loud enough for both Camille and Great-Hair-Guy to hear, “Someone has to stop Camille from taking home the riffraff.”
Camille let out a throaty laugh, but Great-Hair-Guy glared at Tash, “Yeah, yeah. Nice to see you too, Natasha Hughes.”
Tash gasped. “Now he didn’t just full-name me, did he?” she said with a put-on southern accent. “Shame on you, Brendon Jones. Why, I oughta tell your mother on you.”
Great-Hair-Guy/Brendon rolled his eyes, then turned them on Camille. “Nice talking to you, maybe I’ll see you around?” His tone was hopeful, and I felt sorry for him. Camille was a serial flirt and as long as I’d known her a serial soloist. As in, she didn’t date. Ever.
“Yes, of course, maybe.” The way she said it left little doubt that while she had enjoyed their conversation, she didn’t anticipate taking things further. I have no idea how she managed to cram so much sub-text into her tone, but she did, and it was amazing.
Great-Hair-Guy/Brendon left, defeat dogging his steps.
“How do you do that?” Tash asked.
Camille flashed a smile. “Do what, ma cherie?”
Tash harrumphed. “Never mind.”
“Hey,” I turned to Tash, “What are you doing here?”
Tash’s frown turned into an accusing glare. “Well, I didn’t think there was any way I was going to get to see you otherwise. Plus, Andy said these ECBA meetings can be pretty entertaining.”
My twinge of guilt became a fist. “I’m so sorry, Tash. I know I haven’t been in touch much since the renovations started. Things have gotten on top of me.”