by Anne Ashby
“I suggest you see what’s available on their website. If there’s something that interests you, give me a yell and I’ll check my schedule.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the help.”
Zoe shrugged and left him standing there.
As she opened her bedroom door she couldn’t resist glancing back. Her teeth clenched at an expression on his face not unlike a cat that’d finally dislodged a fishbowl and dined on fresh fish for dinner. She jumped inside and closed her door, sagging against the panels for a moment.
So much for my first encounter with relations. It hadn’t gone any differently than she’d expected. He wasn’t going to accept her. None of them, except Gran, would ever accept her.
****
Connor rubbed his hands together as he joined his grandmother in the lounge. This isn’t going to be as difficult as I first imagined, thank goodness.
He had plenty of time. He’d witnessed how damaging a con job could be. No one is going to con Gran, particularly this slip of a girl. Although there’d been a moment’s defiance, she’ll be putty in my hands. A few days hanging around chatting to her, getting to know her, it shouldn’t take long. I’ll figure out her intentions and get rid of her without upsetting Gran.
“Zoe’s going to help me find a good car.” Connor slipped into the second recliner next to his grandmother.
“That’s nice, dear,” Bess murmured.
“Will she be joining us later?”
Bess looked up from the knitting she’d been concentrating on. “I don’t know. Maybe…”
“She doesn’t keep you company in the evenings?” Connor frowned, expecting Zoe would be using every moment to inveigle herself with his grandmother. But of course, perhaps now she’d be trying to avoid him.
“Sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn’t.”
Connor had forgotten how cryptic conversing with Bess could be.
“Zoe likes her own space. She’s used to being alone.” He was subjected to a very direct stare, the blue eyes hard and quite intimidating. “I don’t impose myself on her.”
The message was quite clear.
“Don’t worry, Gran. I won’t impose on her either.”
Like hell I won’t. Plans began to roll about in his mind. If she fiercely guarded her own space that was the first thing he’d do to start easing her out—invade that space as much as possible. It should be a simple way to provoke her; to show her sponging on Bess wasn’t going to last much longer.
“Why did you stay away so long, Con?”
Bess’s question interrupted his planning of a line of attack. He halted his blind perusal of the wall in front of him to think of something which would avoid answering.
“Oh, I don’t know, Gran.”
His parents had asked him the same question. He hadn’t been able to answer them, either.
“We missed you.”
He couldn’t look away from those eyes, now sharp and questioning.
“We wondered if you’d get married and settle down in London.”
Connor shook his head sharply; marriage had never been on his agenda.
“You made a lot of money.”
“It wasn’t the money I stayed for,” he snapped. He softened his voice knowing Bess wasn’t casting aspersions about his character. “It was the knowledge I craved, the experience I needed.”
“So you could share that with others? Help people less fortunate than yourself?”
He nodded.
There were times Bess was able to see right inside him. Along with Warren, Bess had often managed to crawl under the defenses he had wrapped around himself. He sighed. It seemed that hadn’t changed.
Avoiding her questions wouldn’t help; she’d just keep on and on until she got what she wanted. Like a damned terrier. Connor grinned affectionately, even as he bemoaned the necessity of answering.
“For a while I thought I’d found my place working for the Red Cross.” He hedged as his gaze returned to the blank wall space in front of him. “There was so much to do, so many people. It was heartbreaking. I know I helped, but for every child I saw, ten more were waiting—”
He scrubbed a hand across his face as he remembered horrific sights of uncalled-for suffering. “I needed a break. I couldn’t stay any longer. And anyway—”
“Something was still missing?”
He squirmed on his seat.
“They’re not the children you keep thinking about, are they?”
He slunk even further into his chair.
“I still believe you’re destined to help children like you, Connor, who are suffering a similar upbringing.”
His head jerked as Bess repeated advice she’d uttered years ago. Utterances that had been scrupulously ignored. His fists clenched. He’d never found an answer to what he needed to achieve with his life, and the skills he’d learned.
“I can’t imagine you teaching, Connor. You’re such a hands-on type of man. Do you really want to teach?”
The teaching contract had allowed him the opportunity to return to something definite in New Zealand at a time of emotional exhaustion. “It’s going to give me a break, Gran.”
His reply didn’t let on just how worn out he really was. “Give me some time to look around, see what else might be offering.”
He had no doubt teaching wasn’t his life’s dream, but his predicament was discovering what actually was. Should I think about Gran’s suggestion? Could she be right? He shook his head sharply.
His breathing increased as his fingers slipped under the collar of his cotton shirt, and agitatedly massaged the imperfect skin on his shoulder.
“Don’t be ashamed of your scars, Connor.”
“They’re hardly badges of honor.”
“They could be. If you could stop just one little kiddie enduring what you did.”
Connor turned away from her insinuation, averse to thinking about his past and loath to talk about it.
“Perhaps it’s time you acknowledged your life didn’t begin when you were ten,” Bess pressed on.
He eased away from the sympathetic hand she laid on his arm. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Connor.”
He closed his ears to the concern in her voice.
“Sweetheart, I believe that’s God’s plan for you. Not just being a children’s doctor, but also helping children like you. Not in some far-off country, but right here. Kiddies suffering like you suffered. There are plenty of them, far more than anyone realizes.”
She patted his arm one more time before calmly returning to her knitting. “I’m sure if you could talk with them, share your story, you could help them through their own pain. You have the ability to fix so much more than children’s bodies, Connor. I wish you’d consider it. Accept your early experiences could help others. Give it some thought.”
“I don’t want to remember.” He erupted onto his feet. “Don’t you understand, Gran? That part of my life doesn’t exist. Before Warren and Maria, there’s nothing.”
“Wrong. There’s ten whole years, Con, ten years of neglect and abuse,” Bess countered. “You can try and drive those memories away, bury them, but they’ll keep burdening your life.”
Connor accepted sympathy drove her but he didn’t want to hear this. His fists clenched.
“Call me a silly old woman if you like, but you mark my words, Connor, you’ll never find peace until you accept your past. It’s made you into the man you are—”
“Warren made me into the man I am. His love and support, not—”
“And he’s very proud. Even more proud of you than his biological children; because he knows how hard you had to fight.”
Connor paced across the small lounge, wishing he could shut Bess up, stop her reminding him of a time he refused to think about.
He shuddered as an image sprang into his mind. A face contorted with rage, the smell of alcohol, and a huge hand reaching for whatever was close enough to meter out punishment. An automatic response jer
ked Connor’s arms up to protect his head before he managed to banish the terrifying memory.
“I’m sorry, Con; I don’t mean to upset you. You just seem so empty and disillusioned. I assumed you’d be coming home full of enthusiasm for your new job.”
I am enthusiastic about my new job. I am. He took another turn across the room. I just have a lot on my mind, setting up a home, meeting new colleagues, Warren’s illness, and now Zoe.
Especially Zoe. He forced his mind to focus on the opportunistic Zoe, clearing those other unwelcome images. The notion of someone taking advantage of his heedless grandmother angered him almost as much as his memories.
He looked across at Bess, now concentrating on her knitting, the needles clicking as she worked.
“It’s all right, old girl.” He looked down at her fondly. “You can stop murdering that knitting now.” His smile grew as her shoulders slumped and the knitting dropped onto her lap.
“Gran.” He sank down onto his haunches, next to her chair, and took her hands in his. “You’re an interfering old lady, but I love you dearly.”
His hold tightened. “I know you mean well, but I don’t want to discuss this. I’ll never want to talk about those years. As far as I’m concerned they don’t exist. My life began the day Warren and Maria took me into their home. Before that, nothing, zip, blank. Understand?”
“But—”
“No buts, Gran. We’re not talking about this again, okay?”
Bess may have nodded, but Connor doubted she’d given up. “Why don’t you fix all the mistakes you’ve just made in your knitting while you tell me about Zoe. I’d like to get to know her a little. Like you said earlier, it’s not fair to judge someone without cause.”
That should sidetrack her.
It did.
“She’s a wonderful girl, Con.” Connor’s heart dropped at the joy in the old lady’s voice.
She’s been thoroughly hoodwinked, for sure.
“You’ll discover that straight away. She’s filled my lonely life with happiness since she’s been here.”
Connor almost laughed. He could never imagine his grandmother lonely. Her lifestyle must have changed dramatically for her to be lonely. He scoffed under his breath as he settled back into the chair beside her.
Then he had a twinge of conscience. Perhaps she’s given up playing bowls and cards and constantly attending senior citizens’ meetings. Did she still help out at the Citizen Advice Bureau twice a week? He scratched his head. I haven’t seen her painting stuff lying around, either.
“Are you all right, Gran? Do you have any health problems?” He couldn’t imagine any other reasons for Bess to have slowed down her frantic schedule.
“No, no, of course not.” She picked up her knitting. “I’m as strong as an ox. I’ve got another thirty years living to fill in yet. I’m patiently waiting for all my great grandchildren.” He couldn’t avoid the pointed look she sent him.
“Don’t look at me. I’m not providing you with any,” he declared. He’d made sure of that. “You were telling me about Zoe. How did you meet her again?”
She dodged that question.
“Zoe’s upbringing was the exact opposite of yours. Her formative years appear to have been happy until her mother died of cancer when she was eight. Then she was ‘shuffled from foster home to foster home until she escaped’ when she was sixteen. Those are her words, not mine.”
Bess smiled. “I gather she left school as soon as she could get a job and become independent of the system.”
Connor almost echoed his grandmother’s tsking. While this didn’t sound much of a life for a kid, it didn’t soften his abhorrence for what she was doing now.
“What about her father? There must have been time to make proper arrangements for her well-being?” Connor frowned at the strain crossing Bess’s face.
“Apparently the father never knew he had a daughter. Isn’t that so sad?”
His anger increased at the break in her voice and the tremor in her hands.
“If that wasn’t bad enough, her poor mother died thinking her best friend was going to raise Zoe.”
Bess’s emotions had changed. Connor now picked up disgust.
“That arrangement hardly lasted long enough for the poor woman to be cold in her grave.” Agitation had Bess jumping to her feet. “She just dumped that poor little girl with Social Welfare and never inquired about her again. Until a few months ago, she somehow tracked Zoe down and sent her a box of her mother’s keepsakes, no explanation, and no apology. How heartless. I still can’t believe anyone could act like that.”
Connor’s eyebrow jerked up. Zoe had managed to get Bess on her side. Gran sounded like she’d do anything for the girl. His resolution firmed.
“What a terrible thing to do. Don’t you agree?”
“Yes, Gran, I agree. It was a terrible thing to do.” If it was true, that is.
“Calm down, Gran. There’s nothing anyone can do about the past.” He knew. “Best to just let that lie.”
He shepherded her back to her seat and picked up the discarded knitting, trying not to dislodge any more stitches as he handed it to her.
He struggled to keep his voice gentle. “How long is she going to be staying with you, Gran?”
“Well, as long as she wants to, of course.”
“Don’t you think she’d be happier with people her own age, perhaps flatting in the city again, where there’s some nightlife for entertainment?”
Bess smiled. “You don’t know Zoe. She’s happy here.”
I’m sure she is, mused Connor. He never doubted that for a moment.
“Anyway, she has you for company now. Seeing you’re so concerned she has someone her own generation to talk to.” He didn’t miss the teasing light in her eyes as she added, “Actually, you and Zoe have quite a bit in common, I’d imagine.”
A bit in common with her? Connor couldn’t imagine even one thing. “I doubt that, Gran.”
His tone cautioned Bess against any silly schemes she might dream up. He didn’t like the way her narrowed eyes surveyed him or her “hmm” as she continued to watch him.
“Would you mind getting me a cup of tea, dear boy?”
“Of course.”
“Con?”
He turned as he made his way toward the kitchen.
“I’m so glad you’re home.”
He grinned, agreeing. It was good to be with family again.
“Now you can concentrate on finding a nice kiwi girl to settle down with.”
“Gran,” he warned. “Don’t you even think of—” A horrible thought struck him.
“Gran?” His voice firmed as he took a step toward her. “You wouldn’t be thinking of trying to throw me and Zoe together?”
“No! No, Zoe’s definitely not for you.”
Is it guilt causing Gran’s agitation? “You’re all wrong. It’s not suitable. You’re no good for her.”
Connor frowned at the tremor in her hands, but before he could analyze her strange reaction, she distracted him. “I’m parched, boy. Please get my tea.”
In the kitchen Connor glared at the simmering electric jug while analyzing Bess’s fierce reaction. It was a little down-putting to have your grandmother suggest you weren’t good enough for some girl—especially this sort of girl. What’s so wrong about me, anyway?
****
No one was about when Zoe sneaked out of the house early next morning. She told herself she had research to do at the library and had left a note saying she’d be away all day.
This is stupid, she acknowledged as she walked her bike out onto the road before gunning it to life. She couldn’t spend the next few weeks staying out of the house just so she could avoid Connor. Maybe he wouldn’t stay too long.
As she headed along Lake Road, she determined to be strong, not let his little digs upset her. If she stayed in her room, or with Bess, he couldn’t do much, could he?
That evening started out almost more uncomfortable th
an the previous one. It was supposed to be Zoe’s turn to prepare a meal, but as she rushed in with a grocery bag full of hastily-purchased ingredients for a simple meal clasped in her hand, a delicious smell wafting through the house told her she needn’t have bothered.
“I hope you like curry.” Connor stood at the stove stirring a pot.
She ignored her rumbling stomach as she shoved aside dirty dishes on the cluttered bench to place her bag. She hoped he’d clean up some of this mess before she started her dinner preparations.
“Gran didn’t know for sure.” He dumped another dirty pot into the already-crowded sink. “It’s a long time since I’ve done any real cooking. I wanted to try out some recipes. One of the camp amahs turned out the most amazing food. I got her to teach me.”
Okay, I’m not an imbecile. She shoved her meat and vegetables into the fridge. You’ve made your point. He didn’t care whether she liked curry or not. He probably preferred to hear she hated, or was deadly allergic to, it.
“Actually, I love a good curry,” she returned, sure he would recognize the mockery in her voice. “But I have my own food. Thanks for the invitation all the same.” She allowed her gaze to sweep around the shambles of Bess’s normally pristine kitchen. “If you’d just give me a call when you’re finished—”
“Don’t be silly.”
Zoe’s back stiffened at the curtness in his reply.
“There’s plenty here. I cooked for you as well.”
“Well, thanks so much for your efforts. But perhaps it would be more appropriate to check the arrangement Bess and I have before you go doing anything for me.”
His gaze followed her as she stomped out of the kitchen and into her room.
Stupid man. She forced herself to quietly close her door when her emotions where yelling at her to slam it as hard as possible. He’s going to ruin everything.
She jammed headphones over her ears and turned on her little CD player to drown out the irritating sound of whistling reaching through the door. She spread her study books all over her bed. Concentrate on these.
What am I going to do about tomorrow? It was an almost-free day. Her only lecture was at eight in the morning. She sank onto the edge of her bed.
Last week she’d rushed back to the house and spent a lovely day with Bess. They’d wandered down to the shops, and had a café lunch before walking home via the beaches. Bess had talked about Zoe’s father, sharing stories of his childhood. That wonderful day looked like it might never be repeated.