by Diana Fraser
“I seem to attract the wrong person. I’ve no idea why.”
He sat forward. “I know why.”
She looked up surprised. “Why?”
“Because you don’t think enough of yourself.”
“I don’t?”
“No. I’ve seen you automatically apologize when someone bumps into you. I’ve seen you instinctively give something to someone when you could have used it yourself. And I bet you’re the same way with men. Too giving, not thinking about yourself enough.”
She swept her hand away, embarrassed that he’d noticed so much about her. “That’s as may be. But that’s not all of me. There are other aspects which might surprise you.” She thought of how she could switch on the inner diva once the lights were on, and once she was on familiar ground with her cooking.
He took hold of her hand. “Really? I’m not sure I like surprises. Maybe you could begin by showing me now?” He raised a suggestive brow.
The sensuous way he stroked her hand made her want to show him anything and everything. “Well, I’m not beyond taking things which are offered to me.” She smiled sweetly and received the hoped-for response.
He brushed his lips across her knuckles and looked over her hand into her eyes. “How about if I offer you a kiss?”
“Then I’d take it.”
He leaned closer and swept his lips against hers. He swallowed and sat back, his eyes dark with arousal, but she noticed he’d dropped her hand.
“So you take a kiss. What else is there to know about you that I haven’t already pieced together?”
“I’m like my father in that I’m a bit of a closet diva.”
“Really? I am surprised. I didn’t imagine that.”
She shrugged. “By day a diligent cook, by night an overacting showgirl.”
“You know, that sounds more attractive than I first imagined. What kind of showgirl?”
“If you’re imagining pole dancing, you’re entirely off the mark.”
“That’s a shame. For a moment my mind had wandered.”
She grinned and rose. He shot out his hand and tugged her to him and she fell, laughing, onto his lap. He slipped his arms around her. “I’ve been waiting all week for this.”
“Me too.”
There was a moment when all they could hear was the ripple of the quiet tide coming into the bay before their lips came together. For such a big man, used to control, his lips were gentle, curious even, as if they were exploring not only her mouth, but her mind and body, assessing, piecing her together. But when her tongue touched his lips, any tentativeness vanished and he met her tongue with a sensuousness and manliness which made her gasp. She was instantly aroused, like she’d never been before.
She shifted on his lap to give her better access to his mouth, which she explored as he did, with tender lips, a probing tongue, and nips and nibbles which sent her crazy with desire. She held his head steady between her hands, not wanting him to move an inch, demanding access to him.
“Um,” he said as they parted. “You are demanding. I hadn’t imagined that either.”
She shook her head, suddenly shy. “I’m not usually. But…I just can’t seem to get enough of you.”
Suddenly the sound of someone coming around the corner made her jump up. “I’d better go.” She shrugged. “Dad will be wondering where I am.”
“Like a teenager, all over again.” He smiled.
She shook her head. “Not really.” Her teenage experience was very different from most people’s.
“Your Dad never wondered where you were? Lucky you.”
“No. Not so lucky.”
“Sounds like you’ve a story to tell. Maybe you’ll tell it to me some time.”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll see you around.”
She nodded and walked back to Belendroit. As she entered the garden she looked back to the point where they’d kissed and she touched her lips, reliving his kiss and imagining the next time they’d meet… and hoping they’d be alone.
She was about to emerge onto the sunlit lawn when, instead, she gave way to an impulse and walked through the woods, gathering the flowers. She only stopped when she couldn’t carry any more. With arms full of fragrant, delicate flowers of every hue, she walked back to the house, wondering where her mother had kept all the vases.
3
“I hear you’re seeing Zane Black,” said Jim Connelly, before taking a sip of his morning coffee and shaking out his newspaper.
Rachel nearly choked on her coffee. “I’m… having coffee with him from time to time. He’s a nice guy. Any objections?”
“He’s a good man. My only objection would be if you were trying to use him for some other purpose.”
Rachel stilled. She forced herself to replace her cup onto the saucer carefully and sit back, brushing a piece of flaky croissant pastry from her jeans. She looked up into his direct gaze, crowned by a pair of fierce white eyebrows. She looked around for something to divert his attention. But even the two mad cocker spaniels, Stanley and Boo, lay asleep on the sunny veranda for once, providing no distraction. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. I’m referring to the real reason you’re here, at Belendroit.”
“Oh! Maybe you’ll tell me what that is, then.”
“If you wish. You’re here for one reason only—you’ve come here to try to track down your child.”
His last word hung between them like a threat and a promise, and couldn’t be unsaid.
Rachel’s mouth dried. “I…” She jumped up and walked to the edge of the veranda, and looked out across the bay, a deceptive gray sheet of satin under a bright silver sky. The heat of the morning was contained under the spreading clouds. It would rain later.
The cane of her father’s chair squeaked as he got up. She felt his hand on her shoulder. She didn’t move, not even when he squeezed her shoulder and whispered her pet name. “Rach, come on. I understand. I’ve been waiting for you to do something like this for years. Your mother always thought you would.”
Her shoulders slumped then, his words draining the fight out of her. She twisted around and looked into eyes which held nothing but sympathy now. “You didn’t say anything.”
“I was following orders. Your mother’s. You know, it was a beautiful day when you told your mother and me. Although I think she already knew.”
She licked her lips. “But… I hadn’t told her.”
“No. She knew these things though. She saw the changes in you. I’d been blind up till then.”
“You were busy.”
“Yep.” He sighed ruefully. “Too busy to notice many things. Besides, I hadn’t even thought of you as an adult. And there you suddenly were, a grown-up woman and I was devastated. My little girl. Pregnant, at sixteen years of age.”
“I didn’t feel little. I felt grown up with the world at my feet. I felt invincible.”
“I always imagined the boy must have taken advantage of you.”
“No. It was probably the other way around. No one took advantage of me. I took control then and I intend to take control now. Dad…” She tried to hold back the tears which pricked at the back of her eyes. “I can’t go on without doing something… making some kind of contact, reparation, whatever.” She shook her head, trying to contain the pain. “I brought a beautiful baby girl into the world and gave her away.” She turned to her father. “What kind of person would do such a thing?”
“A very young person. It wasn’t cruel or mean or uncaring, it was kind. Your mother couldn’t take the child on, because she’d just been diagnosed. She knew she’d soon be too sick to take care of her own children, let alone grandchildren. She made the best decision she could. Neither you, nor she, were in a position to care for the child. So putting her up for adoption was the only choice.”
Rachel looked out at the still bright bay, the sunlight somehow focused and heightened as it passed through the thin layer of cloud and bounced off the water. Her
eyes watered slightly and she pulled down her sunglasses from on top of her head. She could still remember her dark-haired daughter’s baby smell. Just the memory of the smell of her child, snuggled into her for those brief moments before she’d been taken away, took Rachel back to the place of her deepest sadness. Seemed you could forget many things but not the smell of your newborn child. “I wish I hadn’t done it. I should have looked after her. But it’s not too late.”
“Not too late? Of course it is. Goodness knows where she is.” He frowned, deep in thought. “We could probably find out if she’s okay, discover a little about her, but there’s no way her family want a connection. They took her on that condition. And it’s not fair on Zane to try to find her through him. From what I’ve heard he likes you, really likes you.”
“I’m not!” But even as she spoke she questioned her motives. She really, really liked Zane, too. But wasn’t there a small part of her which thought he could help her? “Dad, I’ve been thinking of nothing but her. It drives me crazy not knowing what she looks like. Have you really no idea as to her identity? You know her age, the color of her hair. There must be other things you know.”
He shook his head. “No, I know as much as you. I don’t even know if she’s living on the marae with Mrs Tau’s whanau or with another branch of the family, elsewhere in New Zealand, or out of it, come to that.”
“But there can’t be that many kids around who fit the description.”
“You want to bet? A girl. Brown hair, brown eyes. There are always kids coming and going. I have no idea which one is your daughter, and I haven’t tried to find out. You have to forget her, Rach.”
“I tried to, to begin with at least. But I can’t anymore. My life in Wellington is a mess—”
“Those photos?”
“Yes, those photos. What does it come to when you can’t trust someone with a photograph?”
“He was a slimeball, Rachel. And I don’t know why you couldn’t recognize it.”
“Yes, obviously a lack on my part,” she said facetiously. Why did her father always have to make her responsible for all the crap things which happened to her?
“What about your work? That used to mean so much to you.”
“I can’t seem to find any joy in it anymore. All I can think about is my daughter.”
“But she’s not yours, darling. Don’t you understand? Your mother and I made the arrangements with Mrs Tau and her tribe, and we all agreed that it was best for the child to be raised in their extended family, without contact from you, or any of us. The father only stayed around long enough to get into trouble before he disappeared overseas. So there’s no guarantee the child is still here either.”
“Wherever she is, I just want to know she’s okay, hopefully see her.” She shrugged. “I don’t know, Dad, it’s like a gaping hole in my life which I need to fill—at least a bit—before I can think of doing anything else. It’s not as if I can talk about it to any of the others.”
“We thought it best for no one to know. Best for you to be in Wellington with your mother when you began to show.”
“Keep it quiet,” she said bitterly.
He shook his head. “Maybe we did the wrong thing, but you were so young. We only wanted to protect you, to give you the future that our bright daughter deserved.”
She shifted away from his embrace. “It’s okay. It’s done.” She’d thought over her parents’ decisions so many times, decisions which had influenced her own, and wondered what her life would have been like if she’d kept her baby. For years the answer had been that it had been the right decision, that she’d got the life she’d always dreamed about. But now? Now, she wasn’t so sure.
“And can’t be undone,” said her father. “And you know what that means. Mrs Tau and her family are your daughter’s guardians and you’re not a part of her life. And that’s the way she wants it to stay.”
She looked up suddenly. “But any arrangements like that fall outside New Zealand adoption law. I’ve looked into it, Dad.”
“You surely don’t intend to take her away from the world she’s grown up in? Tell me you don’t mean to do that.”
“Of course I don’t. I don’t want to do anything that could be detrimental to her. But what if she’s asked about me? What if she’s curious?”
“Then we no doubt would have heard.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“I can’t, of course I can’t. But this is all crazy, Rachel. Leave it alone.”
“I can’t. Are you still in touch with Mrs Tau?”
“I see her all the time but I can’t say we’re particularly friendly, not after what happened. And nothing will have changed. She won’t welcome your interference, and nor will the tribe. They are very protective of their people; there’s been too long a history of interference into their lives and they’re determined to look after their own.”
“But I’m not here to interfere. Just to see her. Just to…”
“You don’t know what you want, do you?”
“I know something needs to change, to heal, or something, before I can get on with my life.”
“Rachel! You’re not wanted. If you were, Mrs Tau would have contacted me. She didn’t. You have to leave it. Move on with your life.”
“It’s too late for that.”
Her father’s expression changed instantly. The shaggy white brows lowered and his blue eyes became icy blue. “What do you mean?”
Even at twenty-six years of age, Rachel felt the familiar nerves at the sudden change. “I mean that I’ve decided to do things properly. I’ve already written to the tribal authority seeking permission to find out my daughter’s name, her whereabouts, and to meet with her.”
Jim Connelly pulled himself up to his full, not insignificant, height, his face aghast. “You’ve done what?”
“I’ve done what I should have done years ago. And if they won’t help me then I’ll employ a lawyer to look into my access rights under the Guardianship Act. You can’t stop me, Dad.”
He closed his eyes. “No. All I can do is be here for you, to pick up the pieces. It’s not going to happen, Rachel, and the sooner you get your head around that, the happier you’ll be.”
Rachel shook her head. “You’re wrong. I won’t be happy until I find her.” She stepped away, wishing with all her heart that she could be the woman her father thought she was, that she could walk away from her child and step into a future of riches and fame. But she’d tried that and it hadn’t worked. And she knew, with all her heart, that she couldn’t move on without at least trying to find her child.
The next day Rachel returned from Amber’s café downhearted. As usual she’d timed her daily walk into town to coincide with either a school break or end of school. She’d paused, ostensibly window shopping, watching the reflection in the window of the kids pouring out of the school gates. But today she didn’t have the courage to turn around and search individual faces as she’d done in the past. Instead, she watched them run out onto the street and into the adjacent park as one, like a tide of children, laughing and full of life. One of them was hers, she just knew it. But she hadn’t the first clue which one. And, if her father was right, she didn’t stand a chance.
She paused by the café, but wasn’t in the mood for chatting to Amber. She continued on to the water front and let the cooling breeze calm her thoughts. What if the tribal board refused her request, as her father believed? What then?
There’d be no point in hanging around if they did. She may as well take the lucrative US contract her agent was keen for her to accept. The offer wouldn’t be around forever. She might have escaped her crazy love life by running home but that was all she’d done. Nothing else was solved—not her fears that she’d never find a man who wanted her, only for herself, and not for what she could bring them, and not her fears that she’d given a part of herself away that she’d never get back. Her child.
On impulse, she bought a bottle of wine and slung it in he
r bag and began the long walk back to the Connelly homestead. She’d sit out on the jetty tonight, with the dark sea around her, the stars above, and drink wine and try to forget her heartache. She’d have the place to herself. Her father was at a rehearsal of his local amateur dramatics society and she relished the idea of a peaceful evening, without the threat of confrontation, without the occasional disapproving glance.
But, as Belendroit came into view around the headland, her heart sank. The sound of wood being chopped greeted her. Seemed like her father had had a change of plans. Then she frowned. Her father and the ax weren’t closely acquainted. Chopping wood was one of the few jobs he allowed his sons to do for him. Out of her four brothers, Rob and Cameron lived away, so the task usually fell to Gabe, as the son who lived closest, or to Max on one of his visits during which he used to let off steam by chopping firewood. But it seemed, since his marriage, Max had little steam to let off anymore. And neither Gabe nor Max were expected today.
She walked around the back of the house and peered around the leafy wisteria vine which was the main means of support of the outer corner of the veranda. What she saw made her inhale sharply. Zane Black’s bare arms were extended above his head, the muscles gleaming under the hot sun as they fell back onto the thick wide stump which he was splitting. The ax fell with a sharp thump which reverberated on the hard, dry ground, at the same time the wood split, sending kindling every which way. But Rachel wasn’t looking at the kindling. She couldn’t take her eyes off his naked arms, chest and stomach, which displayed the kind of six-pack only seen on professional athletes, even, apparently, those who were no longer professional.
He had the kind of body which made Rachel salivate. She clenched her hands in a vain attempt to control the visceral response she had to his beauty and strength. God help her, she wanted to walk over to him and press her nose to his chest and inhale him, lick him, do any number of things which had never occurred to her to do before. Was she going mad? It was certainly hot. She swayed a little and caught the wisteria which jerked beneath her grip. Zane suddenly looked up, his sight caught by the movement.