by Jennie Jones
She felt herself go bright red. ‘I didn’t mean to snoop. They were on the floor and I picked them up—oh, Ryan. Why didn’t you tell me?’ She took a breath and charged on, eager to assuage her guilt at having discovered what he obviously wanted to remain a secret, and hoping he’d talk to her so she could help him in whatever way she could. ‘Is this why you left the army? Are you seriously hurt, Ryan? Or do you think that whatever you’ve been through can be overcome somehow? Like, if you saw a counsellor or someone who can help?’
He paused, his expression changing slowly from narrow-eyed concentration to a slight grin—and then an outright laugh.
He sat up, shaking his head. ‘Christ, I never thought I’d laugh about such a serious issue.’ He looked across at her. ‘Is that why you’re putting me off? You think I’ve got PTSD?’
Putting him off what? ‘I don’t mind if you have PTSD.’
His smile widened. ‘I’m all right, Edie. I’m one of the lucky ones.’
‘So you’re not ill?’
‘No.’ He said it quietly, then turned his focus to the river and stared, as though contemplating those who were less fortunate.
Relief poured through her. Maybe the army always issued brochures like that when a person left—just in case. She resisted the urge to take hold of his hand. ‘Why did you leave the army?’ She’d thought it was his whole life.
He didn’t take his eyes off the river. ‘I’d seen enough. Not the death and destruction, although that takes its toll. It was the men I worked with that got me thinking. Those in for life were no longer the people they’d once been. And there were men who left the forces and couldn’t settle. I didn’t want to be either.’ He turned his head to look at her. ‘I’m thirty-five. If I’d stayed, I’d be just like those lifers. If I left, I felt I’d cope on the outside.’
‘And are you?’
He nodded slowly, a mock frown hovering as he looked into her eyes. ‘Except for you. You’ve given me a lot to think about. You’re quite a challenge, Glam-puss.’
‘You did the right thing in leaving, Ryan.’
‘Think so?’
She nodded. ‘You had empathy for your colleagues, but you had the guts to see that the army wasn’t for you forever.’
He studied her awhile. ‘I’d like to do something concrete. A positive initiative to help the kids of the men and women from the forces who have gone through trauma. That’s why I have the brochures.’
‘What could you do?’
‘I’ve had a few ideas. I’d like to run a retreat for the kids—and their parents. Or their one parent in many cases. A time-out kind of place where they can be themselves, and not worry about having to cope with the after-effects of what either Mum or Dad have been through.’
‘That’s so worthy, Ryan. I’m proud of you.’
‘I’m only at the hopeful stage at the moment. I need to go into a lot more detail about what, how and where, and whether or not I’d even be allowed to open such a retreat.’
‘Would it be a camp?’
‘No. I’d buy a house. I could probably take a couple of families at one time. It would have to be for those who had more or less come through their trauma. I wouldn’t want a hand in counselling or dealing with their issues. I don’t have the expertise for that.’
‘But you could talk. You’d know what they’d seen.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, sounding reluctant. ‘But soldiers don’t want to talk about it. That’s why they’d need to have been through some sort of recovery program before they and their kids came to my place for a breather.’
‘What would you offer them?’ she asked, hugging her knees more tightly.
‘Fishing. Horse riding. Walking, cycling. Camping out overnight. Something easy, fun and non-invasive. Nothing that’s a competition or a challenge. I just want to offer people and their kids an opportunity to wind down and take a breath.’
Pride overwhelmed her. ‘I hope you’re going to go ahead with this idea.’
‘I think I will. There’s nothing else out there for me. I’ve spent sixteen years of my life in the army, Edie.’ He focused on her. ‘I’m not an easy guy to know, actually.’
‘How come?’
‘I need a job where I’m of use—like a task. Like a mission, really. A job where I know what I’m doing and why I’m doing it. A nine-to-five gig would never suit me. I’d leave within the month. Possibly the week.’
Or the hour. ‘I get it,’ she said, thinking how he was used to doing a dedicated and highly skilled job. ‘Where will you have your house?’
‘Haven’t found the right place yet. At least,’ he glanced at her, ‘I might have found the right place, but that’s going to depend on you.’
‘How?’
‘I’d like to open this retreat here, in Swallow’s Fall.’
That was more surprising than discovering he didn’t have PTSD.
‘Would you mind me sticking around?’ he asked.
‘Of course not.’ He could live where he wanted, but it would be hard for her, if she stayed too and had to see him all the time.
‘Do you think you might want to help in some way?’
‘With your retreat?’ she asked. ‘I don’t have a lot to do with children in the first place—I wouldn’t have a clue how to deal with young people who were sad.’
‘Yes, you would. You’d make them smile. You’d buy them homemade biscuits and read stories to the younger ones. You could teach them how to fish.’
She laughed a little. Fishing was possibly the only thing she had on him.
Her thoughts sobered. ‘It’s so dumb what I’m doing. Isn’t it?’ She looked away. ‘You’ve been through war zones and dangerous assignments. You’ve seen trauma the like of which I’ve only ever read about. Or only ever considered from a “How shall I play this part?” angle. And now I’ve written a stupid play. I feel ashamed.’
He didn’t respond but she knew he’d be contemplating what she’d said, and likely figuring out how to be kind to her.
She chanced a look at him; he was staring out at the river again, with a ponderous expression. Then he plucked a blade of grass and put it between his teeth. ‘You told me once that comedy was the soul of life,’ he said. ‘That no-one can live without laughing.’
‘But it doesn’t seem right anymore. I didn’t know—I didn’t think, Ryan, about what you and the men and women you worked with had gone through.’
‘You weren’t supposed to. That’s what we’re trained to do. There’s no need for you to know the ins and outs of it.’ He flicked the blade of grass away and turned his face to her. ‘You do what you do best, Edie. You act and give others immense enjoyment. Now, you’ve written a play that makes people smile. I think that’s a true gift. We’re grateful to you.’
We? Did he mean the general public, or the townspeople? And did he count himself as part of the town and its people? Edie hadn’t considered herself as anything but one of them until she’d recognised that she was the oddball. Yet her friends and family still viewed her as part of their lives even though she’d gone years ago and had only come back to Swallow’s Fall to hide.
Ryan belonged here so much more than she did. He brought calm and reassurance with him. Edie could only offer drama. So what that she’d opened a theatre? What was that going to do for the town?
‘Have you been worrying about me having problems all along?’ Ryan asked.
‘Gemma said you needed comfort.’
‘Oh did she?’ His voice took on a sarcastic edge. ‘What else did my sister say about me and my problems?’
Edie thought she’d better tell him, since even she was now unsure about why Gemma had said all the things she’d said.
‘She said you’re being difficult as a means of conquering your dilemmas and your tendency to back away from difficult situations.’
‘She doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’
Edie smiled. She recognised his tone from when Lochie had still been around
and they’d bickered as only a brother and sister can. ‘She said you feel threatened by what your heart is doing and what your mind is saying you ought to do.’
‘Could be.’
‘She also said you need my presence.’ It was unsettling saying this to him but it had all made sense after she’d found the brochures. ‘And that’s why you’re sticking so close to me.’
‘It didn’t cross your mind that I might be sticking close for another reason?’
‘Marcus,’ she admitted, feeling a little timid as she brought his name up.
He turned serious. ‘That’s one truth.’ His features lightened quickly though. ‘Thanks for being worried about me.’
It warmed her soul, hearing him thank her, until she remembered how dependent she was on people liking her. What a sham she’d been. Who cared about her stupid career? There was more to life than wanting to be the best. She just didn’t know what else she’d do with her life from this point on. It was bloody disconcerting, to be honest.
‘Okay,’ he said, straightening and turning on the grass to face her. ‘Let’s get the Marcus talk done.’
She swallowed her self-pity. Time to get on with it—whatever it was. ‘What talk?’ A shiver of dread trickled over her, removing any warmth that had settled on her soul.
‘Between what Vince has told me,’ Ryan began, ‘and my own research, I think I’ve got him sussed.’
‘He’s a bit of a loner,’ Edie interrupted, wanting to give him any information she could since he was being so wonderful about helping her. ‘I think he might hide from his true self in some way. But I don’t know why.’
‘He lauds himself. He has his people write interviews for him, making him look squeaky clean and the ultimate top guy to deal with. His speeches wield power though, and others succumb to his good-guy grandness. He’s woven a completely false identity for himself. I doubt he could speak off the cuff. He hasn’t, so far. He refuses to be interviewed in person, stating he’s not the important focus, his production company and its personnel and the directors and the writers are. If a journalist approaches him with a direct question, he smiles, quoting time restraints, and one of his aides steps forward and suggests the journalist send through their questions and Buchanan will be happy to answer them, reminding the journo that Buchanan’s people—his staff—are his priority.’
‘He’s a slimy, misogynistic bully.’
‘You got it in three.’
She looked out at the river and let out a disappointed breath. ‘I’ll never beat him.’
‘I think you’ll go through hell trying to.’
Distress pinched her heart. She had to stand on her own and currently Ryan was doing everything. ‘I’ll take whatever he throws my way and try to stay cool.’ She looked at Ryan. ‘I will get a lawyer though, and I won’t succumb to any crap he or she suggests, like having me apologise to Marcus.’
‘Damn right you won’t.’
‘I’m done for though, regardless of my sudden bravery.’
He laughed. ‘So theatrical. You’re not done for.’
She deepened her frown. Going by Ryan’s audacious smile, he was pleased with himself. ‘You’re up to something.’
‘I want you to contact a radio presenter,’ he said, his voice low. ‘She was sacked by her radio station because Buchanan forced them to get rid of her.’
‘I heard. Tony told me. Why do I have to contact her?’
‘You’re gathering your troops.’
‘Ganging up on Marcus.’ She didn’t have to make it a question. But it wouldn’t work. He was too powerful. He had his manicured fingernails in everything—or his lawyers did.
‘See if she’s willing to strategise,’ Ryan said. ‘Keep up the communication with Tony too. Ask him to listen out for rumours or gossip about others Buchanan might have harmed in the same way he’s trying to harm you. I also want you to call Riff Raff.’
‘I’m not talking to Damien.’
‘He won’t spill the beans if I talk to him, but you know him.’
‘I’ll think about it.’ She wasn’t sure if Damien had told Marcus where she was, but it seemed possible, if unlikely. ‘I’ll ask Tony to call him.’
‘That’ll do.’
‘What am I going to do with all the information if I get it?’
‘I’ll sort that out. I’m gathering my own intel.’
‘How? And what intel?’
‘I’ll let you know when you need to know.’
‘It might be quicker all round if you got your sniper kit on, found your way into Marcus’s house and shot him.’
‘Don’t think it didn’t cross my mind,’ Ryan said, and gave her a devilish smile.
Edie returned his smile. ‘Thanks for helping me. It’s been a lovely day.’
He squared her in his sight, one eye narrowed. ‘So will this day now stick in your memory? All the things we’ve done, the places we’ve re-visited. Will you remember this was the day we got together as adults?’
‘You mean you don’t want me to remember the past?’
‘No. I just hope you remember that we shared this day as a man and a woman, not as a young man and a kid.’
He was such a lovely man to be friends with. And delightful on the eye. She shuffled on the grass to sit next to him, her shoulder banked up against his. ‘It’s nice being friends. But I have to remind you of something we haven’t done on our trip down memory lane on your Harley.’
‘What’s that?’
‘We haven’t got to the lamppost yet.’
His laugh was low and delicious. ‘Thanks for bringing that up.’
She grinned, amazed that she’d made the bold remark about their bad memory and happy that he’d understood her little jibe.
‘Edie, you didn’t answer me earlier when I asked if you ever wondered about the real reason I’m sticking close to you.’
His brown eyes were warm and Edie’s heart kicked a few fast beats. ‘Don’t look at me like that,’ she said, not wanting him to see beneath her layers when she didn’t even know what was there herself.
‘What do I need to do to show you what I’m feeling?’
Could he really be saying he had feelings for her? He was going to be living and working in Swallow’s Fall and she might have to leave and go back to her career—not that she’d think of it as a career from now on, but she would need a job.
‘Can I kiss you, Edie?’
A trickle of raw delight flew through her. It was what she’d wanted—and now he was offering it, she wasn’t sure she could do it.
‘This is a bit weird,’ she said. ‘Not strange weird, just odd weird.’ She hoped he understood.
‘I get it. I feel the same way. But I’d like to kiss you.’
‘I thought I irritated you.’
‘Oh, believe me—you do.’
He said it so tenderly, and she didn’t know how to behave with him. She leaned her forehead on his shoulder so he wouldn’t see into her eyes. He’d brought her out here, had reminded her of everything they’d done, and was now asking her to be an adult with him. For the life of her, she was suddenly without an adult thought in her head.
‘There’s a point in the play where the leading man kisses the leading woman,’ he said. ‘How about we rehearse that?’ He lifted her chin with his fingers and peered down at her, his gaze focused.
Time stood on the edge of a precipice. Expectation simmered in the air between them until he lowered his head and her eyes closed as her lips parted. Then his mouth covered hers.
For seconds, her mind went blank and she felt the many sensations encompassing her. Pleasure, disbelief, and the feel of his lips over hers, pressing gently as he encouraged her to kiss him back.
He didn’t take the kiss deeper. Not as deep and as powerfully as she knew he’d be able to, as she knew she yearned for, even though she could hardly kiss him because of her shock.
He broke the kiss and smiled at her. ‘Bad news,’ he said, humour in his eyes. ‘Now I w
ant more.’
She was barely able to decipher her feelings, and too many thoughts tumbled in her head. ‘Ryan, I’m not sure …’ She wasn’t sure what to do, or say, or what to explain, let alone how to explain. ‘Everything is so uncertain.’
‘Edie,’ he said, pushing to stand and holding out a hand to help her up. ‘Stop over-thinking. You don’t need to do anything but remember my kiss, and remember today and how we shared a new memory. That’s all I’m asking of you.’
She couldn’t miss the for the moment suggestion in his tone, and panicked immediately but he cut her thoughts off.
‘I need you to understand what I’m doing here, Edie. I am chasing you. I know this seems unreal, or too soon or maybe just sudden, but I sometimes think you like me in the same way, and that’s what I’m looking for.’
‘Shouldn’t we put this on hold until my life is sorted?’ It would be best, for Ryan anyway.
‘How long will that take?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Then let’s just take it as it happens.’
She put her hand into his and allowed him to help her up, unable to look him in the eye. She was flushed all over in embarrassment and awe and wasn’t sure what was expected of her. By Ryan, by her family, but most of all, by her indecision about where she was heading—or even where her life would take her. At the moment, she had nothing to offer anyone, least of all brave, caring Ryan.
18
Treading the Boards
After lunch, as Ryan cleared away the dishes, Edie was doing her best to concentrate on the plans for the play and not think about his kiss.
Two days had passed and he hadn’t mentioned it. He hadn’t given her any languishing looks of adoration, thank God, because she wouldn’t have known what to do. He appeared to be just as willing to not talk about what happened by the Maclaughlin River as Edie was.
She pushed a pile of spare scripts to one side, wishing she could as easily push everything in her head off the end of the table. Her memories were flooding her—all because of a kiss she hadn’t expected.
It was the kiss she’d always wanted but it had come at the wrong time. Why couldn’t this have happened a year ago? When her life was complete and she was fulfilled and happy. Now she might end up hurting Ryan. She had to pull herself together and think rationally. Something she’d been good at until Marcus discovered she’d killed him off in her play.