Mr. Unforgettable

by Karina Bliss

  They stepped onto his deck, the same sunbleached cedar as the two-story house. Most of the beach frontage was glass, currently reflecting the sand dunes, blue sky and a bedraggled woman. “You know,” she said calmly, “I won’t stay…if I could just refill Harriet’s bottle with water?”

  “I think your first task is more urgent than that.” He handed her the baby and she nearly reeled at the smell.

  “Oh!” The swimming nappy was supposed to be leakproof. Too late, Liz realized one tab had come loose. She held Harriet at arm’s length and looked at the smear on her swimsuit. “Ugh!” To her dismay there was also a brown stain on Luke’s sodden red T-shirt. “I’m so sorry…”

  He followed the direction of her gaze and grimaced. “I wondered why the smell didn’t go away.” Gingerly hauling the wet T-shirt away from his body, he indicated a direction. “You two take the downstairs bathroom, I’ll take upstairs.”

  The situation was so ridiculous Liz had to smile. “I haven’t even thanked you yet.”

  He smiled back. It steadied the last jangle of her nerves. “A true knight errant wouldn’t flinch from damsels who weren’t potty trained. How old is your…your…?” She watched him try and work it out.

  Harriet could be her child, Liz was young enough. For a moment she wanted that fiercely. “Step granddaughter,” she said. “Fifteen months.”

  “Granddaughter,” he repeated. “What are you, all of thirty-two, thirty-three?”

  “Thirty-five.” Being precious about your age was a waste of time when you were in public service. “How old are you?”

  For a moment he looked surprised then grinned as he took her point. “Thirty-three.”

  It relieved Liz that he was younger. Made him less dangerous, somehow. Holding Harriet well clear, she followed him through the open-plan kitchen/dining room to the bathroom and caught a better view of herself in the mirror.

  “Oh!” Harriet gave her a beatific smile and pointed at her nappy. “Pooh,” she said proudly.

  Fifteen minutes later, Liz was naked when Luke nearly gave her a heart attack by tapping on the door. “You okay for towels?”

  “Fine,” she gasped, dragging one out of her bag. Then remembered the door was locked and relaxed.

  “How do you have your tea?”

  Harriet, now cleaned up and dressed, toddled to the door and reached up for the handle. “Out?” She looked expectantly at Liz.

  “Wait for me, honey.” Liz toweled down and reached for her underwear. “Milk, no sugar, please.”

  “I’ll see what I can rustle up for the baby.”

  “Out,” Harriet bellowed. The handle was low and her little fingers caught the edge. The niblock popped out and the door swung open. With a yelp, Liz dropped her bra and grabbed the towel, holding it against her front. Briefly her eyes met Luke’s.

  He turned his back, reaching one hand behind him to fumble for the handle. Harriet grabbed his fingers instead. “Juice,” she demanded, and started leading him down the hall.

  “Nice towel,” he mentioned casually over his shoulder.

  Liz shoved the door shut, turned back to the mirror and started rebuilding her shattered image.

  THE MAYOR CAME into the kitchen while Luke and Harriet were staring into the fridge.

  The mayor, not the woman. She’d pulled her wet hair into a French twist and covered her cute freckles with makeup. The ice-blue dress she wore was calf length and her heeled sandals matched perfectly.

  “I gave her water,” he said, “but she’s hungry. Is there anything suitable for a baby in this fridge?” He looked again at the row of brightly colored sports drinks, the raw steak, a bar of chocolate and a small carton of long-life milk.

  “That’s kind of you,” she said formally, picking Harriet up, “but I carry food.” Out of the voluminous bag she produced a can of baby custard and a banana and sat with Harriet at the breakfast bar.

  The baby ate it with lip-smacking relish while Luke finished making tea and brought Liz a mug. She avoided meeting his eyes. “Thank you.”

  Taking a stool next to her, he said curiously, “How did you grow up in Beacon Bay and not learn to swim?”

  For a moment he thought she’d deny it, then she sighed. “I’m not from around here.”

  “Auckland?”

  Scraping banana custard off Harriet’s chin, she didn’t answer.

  “I feel compelled to mention the mayoral swim-safe campaign.”

  “Ironic, isn’t it?” She took off Harriet’s bib and finally looked at him. “So now you know my terrible secret. The poster girl for water safety can’t swim. It’s an initiative I inherited.”

  He read the anxiety in her eyes. “I can keep secrets. Why don’t you take lessons?”

  “Because no one can see me learning. It would undermine the campaign.” She put down a squirming Harriet who immediately toddled into the adjoining lounge toward a coffee table holding a crystal chess set. Liz caught her as she got there and turned her in another direction.

  “This is lovely.” She picked up a chess piece and caressed it with a tactile appreciation that surprised him. He didn’t think of her as a sensual person. “It must be a joy to play with.”

  “I haven’t had a game since I’ve been here.” Too few friends in Beacon Bay and none of them chess players. “You play?”

  She put the knight down. “I used to.”

  Luke followed Harriet, who had her nose and palms pressed against the ranch slider that separated the western side of the lounge from a private courtyard. “Let me make sure this is locked, little lady. We don’t want you falling in.”

  The baby stared beyond the glass to where the lap pool sparkled sky blue in a garden of hibiscus, palms and frangipani.

  Retrieving Harriet, Liz asked, “What, the ocean isn’t big enough?”

  “A pool lets me swim year-round. Old habits die hard, I guess.” He checked the catch on the ranch slider, but Harriet had already lost interest and had begun playing with the fine silver chain around Liz’s neck.

  “I saw you win the gold medal,” the mayor said as they sat down again, “on TV. I was very proud to be a Kiwi that day.” She misread his expression. “I’m sorry. You must get tired of being public property, having everyone claim a connection.”

  Smoothly he turned the subject. “You know how that feels, I imagine.”

  “I think your fan club’s bigger.”

  “It was a long time ago.” They weren’t good days for him.

  “People don’t forget achievements like that,” she said softly, and he realized she was thinking of her late husband. Tension uncoiled in his chest.

  Harriet wandered off again. “I’ll get her,” he said, welcoming the interruption. “Finish your tea.”

  Left alone, Liz assessed her surroundings. Rimu floorboards gleamed red in the sun pouring through floor-to-ceiling windows to the east, but the lounge itself was barely furnished.

  There were no cushions to soften the big leather couches, no artwork on the cream walls, no photographs on the fireplace mantel. It looked like the house of a man who had stripped his life down to its bare essentials.

  So it surprised Liz when Luke reappeared carrying Harriet and a small basket of toys. “I bought them for my goddaughter to play with when her parents come to stay.”

  Liz looked at the eclectic selection, which ranged from rattles to sophisticated counting games. “How old is your goddaughter?”

  He spanned his big hands, “About this big…sits, crawls, can’t walk.”

  “Nine months to a year?”

  “There you go.”

  She hid a smile and accepted the offer of a refill, knowing Harriet would squeal blue murder if Liz denied her a short play with the toys. And there’d been enough drama for one day. No, don’t think about it.

  Instead she focused on Luke, padding over to the kitchen to put the kettle on again. He wore a loose linen shirt, sleeves rolled up, over casual pants. Creamy white, they accentuated his tan.
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  She’d noticed Luke Carter’s good looks before in the same incidental way she noticed the weather. Now it struck Liz what an extremely handsome man he was. With his damp dark hair sleek against his head, the perfect proportions of his strong cheekbones, straight nose and square jaw stood out.

  He had a wide mouth, often quirked at one corner, and his eyes were an unusual light gray, piercing, yet giving little away. Idly she decided that women would find him very attractive, with his height and athletic build, radiating vitality and peak health.

  She had a vague recollection that he’d been through a messy separation. The council gossip, Mary, would know the details if Liz cared to ask. But Liz wouldn’t ask. Being in the public eye had only reinforced her belief that people’s private lives were their business.

  Her gaze returned to Harriet, busy gumming a red ball. The baby dropped it to pick up a rattle, her arm movement getting more and more frenzied with the joy of the resulting noise. Liz started to laugh with her. A sob caught in her throat, taking her by complete surprise.

  If anything had happened to her…if Luke hadn’t come along…Desperately she tried to hold the thoughts at bay but they kept coming. The next sob escaped. Jumping up, she headed blindly for the bathroom and almost collided with Luke.

  “You’re crying.”

  Liz kept her head down. “I have something in my eye.”

  Luke put down the mugs. “Let me see.”

  “It’s gone, I think.” She smiled brightly through the tears.

  “Let me see.” He tilted her chin while she blinked furiously. He gave her a gentle shake. “Breathe.” She breathed, but that only vaporized her bravado. As Luke checked her eye, she tilted her head back farther but the brimming tears overflowed.

  Desperately, she pushed his hand away. “I think I’ve cried it out—the thing.”

  “You don’t have something in your eye, do you?”

  Tears streamed down her face. She couldn’t speak.

  Luke drew her into his arms. “It’s delayed shock—nothing to be ashamed of.” His hug was light, friendly, unthreatening, but it was the first time a man had held Liz in over two years and she couldn’t handle it.

  “Please don’t touch me.”

  Immediately he released her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  She wiped away the tears. “You didn’t…it’s just…” How to explain the fear that came with bereavement, the shock of the new after the familiar.

  “You don’t like to be touched,” he finished.

  She nearly laughed. Touch was what she missed most, but not the comfort of strangers. Yet when she looked into his eyes, read his empathy, Luke didn’t feel like a stranger. So she was honest with him. “I’m not used to being touched anymore,” she said.

  To her surprise he took her shaking hands, cradled them lightly between his. “Okay?”

  She nodded. His warmth seeped into her fingers, her shaking eased to trembling, then stopped. “If I’d lost Harriet, too…” No, she wouldn’t cry again. Liz broke contact. “I should never have taken her near the water. But I thought with the safety tube and staying in the shallows…” She straightened her shoulders. “No excuses.”

  “How about I teach you?” he suggested. “Swimming lessons for chess games.”

  “Oh, that’s kind but…” She searched for a polite excuse. “My schedule is erratic.”

  He grinned. “Bring your chaperone if you like.”

  She shook her head vaguely. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re feeling awkward because you think I’ve seen you naked—I haven’t.” Only half-naked. Fully concentrated on covering her front, the mayor had forgotten her back was reflected in the mirror.

  Luke had turned away quickly but he could still summon an image of the long pale slope of her back, faintly pink from the sun, her apple-cheeked bottom and slender legs. But she didn’t need to know that.

  A blush tinged her cheeks. “You’re very frank, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not a politician,” he agreed. “You might find that refreshing.”

  She laughed. “Being a politician, I can’t answer that.”

  “No pressure,” he said. “Think about it.” He almost regretted the impulsive offer already.

  “I should get Harriet home.”

  His driveway opened to the cul-de-sac next to the public walkway to the lagoon, where Liz had parked her Ford sedan. Despite her protestations, Luke insisted on carrying the baby for her.

  “Haven’t you forgotten something, Mayor Light,” he asked when she’d strapped Harriet into her safety seat and was ready to drive away.

  Confused, Liz thanked him again effusively then started the engine.

  Luke reached in the open driver’s window to get her fake spectacles on the dashboard. He put them on, to confirm what he’d suspected over the past hour, then handed them back to her with a smile. “Like I said, I can keep secrets.”

  As she drove away, Liz decided she’d been wrong in her assessment. Luke Carter was dangerous. And she wouldn’t pursue his acquaintance.

  “AT LEAST WE NOW KNOW that Snowy’s going to rely heavily on his experience as elder statesman.” Kirsty leaned forward and topped up Liz’s glass of chardonnay before she could protest. She’d been at council offices from dawn until seven; another glass would only put her to sleep. And she needed to concentrate.

  Overnight, billboards supporting Snowy Patterson had sprung up like mushrooms in supporters’ backyards. Under his benign smile ran the slogan Wisdom, Experience and Vision. Vote Right, Vote for Patterson.

  Liz and Kirsty had already met twice over the previous four days to thrash out her key policy points, but they were nowhere near ready to go public. Liz kicked off her shoes and sank back into Kirsty’s couch. “Even more important to counter with my youth and energy.”

  Realizing she was massaging her aching feet with her free hand, she chuckled, nearly spilling her wine. She’d have to work on her youth and energy.

  “I’ve already scored one coup.” Kirsty’s blue eyes, so like her father’s, were neon with elation. “The Mayoral Swim-Safe Challenge for local schools is in seven weeks and traditionally the mayor fires the starter gun. Bo-o-oring!”

  She swept back the fringe of her short black bob. “The coordinator was thrilled when I said you’ll lead the swimmers into the water.”

  This time Liz did spill her wine. Dabbing the splotches on her white shirt with a cocktail napkin, she said nervously, “And when I’m knee deep I’ll fire the starter gun, right?” Her heart sank when Kirsty sniggered.

  “Keep that humor, it makes you seem more fun.”

  “I’d love to, Kirsty, but—” Liz seized the first excuse that came into her head “—I really don’t have any time to train.”

  “You won’t need to. It’s only one hundred meters to the buoy and back. Look, I’ve already done a mock-up of the flyers.”

  She thrust one in front of Liz’s face. Leading Light, the headline read.

  Always ready to lead, Mayor Liz Light will be the first in the water in the annual Swim-Safe Challenge, which promotes swim skills to the district’s schoolchildren. “All kids living on the coast should learn how to swim,” said Mayor Light. “And it’s our responsibility as adults to make sure they can.”

  There was a little cartoon graphic of Liz with her real head superimposed, bobbing in the water holding a life preserver. Liz started to feel seasick. “Any chance of that life buoy being on hand?”

  She wondered if Luke Carter’s phone number was listed while she mentally paced out the distance. One hundred meters didn’t seem far.

  Kirsty had already moved on. “I’ve looked at your schedule over the coming weeks…there are so many opportunities, Lizzy, for showing vigor. Driving tractors with farmers, planting trees with the Forestry Service—”

  “I’m also the incumbent, Kirsty, which means my first priority is doing my job,” Liz interrupted. “And remember my primary platform is upgradi
ng community services, not to mention enhancing the rural library serv—”

  “Oh, lordy!” Kirsty rolled her eyes. “How are we going to sound bite that.”

  “A community is its people…all its people.” Liz took a sip of her wine, warming to her subject. “And the district’s profile is changing. We’re no longer a population of—”

  Kirsty groaned. “That’s all very well but your first job is to get reelected. And to get the yes, you have to make it easy for voters to get a handle on you. Sex up your policies.”

  Liz laughed. “Is it possible to make local government interesting?”

  “No,” said Kirsty cheerfully, “so we’ll simply work on you…. You look so much younger since you’ve started wearing contact lenses, by the way.”

  Liz stared at her fingernails. “Thanks.”

  “Snowy was right,” Kirsty continued, “you will get more votes by using Dad’s reputation again, but—” she held up a hand when Liz opened her mouth to protest “—you’re also right. This time around you’ve got to be perceived as your own woman.”

  “I am my own woman,” said Liz quietly. She’d supported Harry’s policies because she believed in them, even the one that was painful to her.

  Absently, Kirsty scribbled on her pad. “Of course you are…. I’ve got it! How’s this? ‘Integrity and Inclusiveness. Vote Elizabeth Light.’”

  Kirsty’s husband, Neville, came into the room. “Bubs is finally asleep.” He kissed the top of his wife’s head. “You’re very loud when you’re excited.”

  She lifted her eyes from her notebook. “You don’t usually complain.” He laughed and kissed her again, this time on the lips.

  Liz looked down at her hands, then straightened her wedding ring. She kept expecting to regain the weight she’d lost when Harry died but it hadn’t happened. Maybe she should just get it made smaller.

  “Speaking of love lives…” Neville poured himself a glass of wine and folded his lanky frame into an armchair. “Liz, remember Mark, the new accountant at my office who you met at our barbecue last weekend?”