But she was considering going back to Peter. Joe could put up with Peter in Mitchell’s life—the guy was his father—but Joe wasn’t hanging around while Peter tried to lure Allison back.
Anger blotted out rational thought. Anger at Peter for his cunning. Anger at Allison for her treachery. Most consuming of all, anger at himself for not having spoken to her sooner.
But what would have been the point of that? He might have bared his heart to her and she might still have betrayed him.
She didn’t love him.
His sense of loss of his dreams, of Allison, of Mitchell, fused together into a fury so strong he could feel his heart racing and the veins on his neck standing out like ropes. He longed to slam his fist down on the table and curse the world.
Allison was kneading her left palm with the thumb of her right hand. She bit her bottom lip.
“I want to say goodbye to Mitchell,” he said.
Allison’s eyes looked stricken. “Are you going?”
“Damn right I am.”
“Don’t...don’t you want to stay with Mitchell a little longer? After all we went through last night?”
Joe winced at her use of the word “we”. Last night they’d been a couple.
“Of course I do.” He had to stop himself from roaring the words. “But, for Mitchell’s sake, I can’t. He’s got his father now, he doesn’t need me. And it’ll only confuse him if he’s got two daddies around.”
Allison’s eyes were downcast. “Th...that’s true. He wanted you, not Peter, when Peter was here before.”
Did she have to twist the knife by telling him that? Joe burned with the pain of realization that Mitchell was no longer his concern. He wouldn’t see him grow up, be there for him, be the kind of father his own father had been to him. The kind of father the child deserved.
He had to make this parting brief. He headed for the living room.
Mitchell was still engrossed with Sesame Street. Joe lifted him from the playpen.
“I...I’ve got to go, Mitch,” he said, fighting to keep his voice even. “Give me a hug.”
Joe held the little boy close. He’d gotten fond of some of the kids he’d nannied, and it had been hard to say goodbye. But not like this. This was unbearable. Mitchell was special. He loved him. And today Joe had planned to celebrate the start of their new life as father and son. And a life as Allison’s husband.
“Bye bye, Tiger,” he said, unable to keep his voice from breaking.
“Bye bye, Joe,” said Mitchell. “See ya.”
“See ya,” echoed Joe, putting Mitchell gently back into his playpen. Mitchell turned back to the video screen making the most of his chance to watch his favorite characters.
Joe turned away. He snatched up his helmet from where he’d put it on the sofa next to Peter’s accursed elephant.
“This is goodbye?” Allison’s voice was scarcely more than a whisper.
“That’s right.” He couldn’t bear to be around her for a second longer. To feast on her beauty which would now never be his.
Knowing his eyes were bleak and his face like granite, he allowed himself a final look at Allison where she stood clutching the back of the sofa.
If he was tempted to soften his heart enough to say a civilized goodbye, he resisted it when he saw those damn wedding photos on the cabinet behind her. He should have known this would happen the minute he’d seen them. He’d ignored those warning bells in his head and this was the consequence.
He jerked his head in the direction of the offending photographs. Would his voice stand by him and not betray how he was really feeling by a crack or a quiver? “And don’t think you can come crawling back to me when things go wrong with him.”
That was it.
Time was up.
He and Allison were finished. The chapter closed.
Joe said no more, but turned on his heel and marched out. Then slammed the gate behind him with such force the fence shuddered.
He fumbled for what seemed like an age to fasten his helmet—an operation that generally took a few seconds.
Without looking back, he mounted his Harley and jumped on the starter pedal with all his might until the powerful motorcycle roared into life. He gunned the throttle and took off with a furious squeal of tires and a belching cloud of smoke.
Joe didn’t even think about the speed limit, just put his head down and rode.
He didn’t know to where.
He didn’t care.
He just wanted to ride and ride and ride.
Allison didn’t know how long she stood staring sightlessly at the door. Joe was gone.
The ringing of the telephone broke into her consciousness. She moved very slowly to answer it. If it was Peter she’d hang up, she couldn’t bear to talk to him again.
But it was the pleasant tones of her former mother-in-law, Nancy, that greeted her.
Allison tried to keep her voice from betraying her anguish at Joe’s departure, and to speak as normally as possible. “I’m sorry, Nancy, I haven’t had a chance to call you. Mitchell was in hospital last night but he’s okay now.”
She explained what had happened, a warm comfort suffusing her misery at the thought that Mitchell’s grandparents loved and cared about him. “Peter was here,” she concluded.
“Was he?” There was an undercurrent to Nancy’s voice that immediately alerted Allison. “That was quick.”
“Quick? What do you mean?”
“Oh, my dear, you mean he didn’t tell you?”
Allison’s heart started to race. Somehow she dreaded what she was about to hear. “Tell me what?”
“We let him know this morning we’ve established a generous trust fund for Mitchell—a regular monthly allowance. We want to help you out financially. And, if you approve, we’re going to buy an apartment in Sydney so we can visit you more often and make up for lost time. We’ve changed our Wills, too. We’ll be leaving Peter the Adelaide house but, apart from that, everything we have will be Mitchell’s. Peter’s not very happy about it. But we can’t risk our lifetime’s work being gambled away.”
Allison clenched the telephone receiver so tightly her knuckles showed white. She didn’t hear another thing Nancy said.
The blood drained away from her face as the shock of Nancy’s words hit her. She had to hold onto the doorway for support. She felt engulfed with pain and disbelief and terrible, bitter regret.
Her dream of Mitchell being loved by his father had finally been destroyed. Peter had been lying when he’d told her he had stopped gambling. What had been his visit today been but a gambler’s desperate bluff? To play with Mitchell’s emotions—and hers—in the hope of gaining money from them was a deadly game with a small fortune at stake. A monthly allowance right now, much more when his parents died—and Bill had already had a near-fatal heart attack.
Her mouth twisted cynically. Wouldn’t Joe laugh to know how right he’d been about Peter’s ulterior motive? But she’d never be seeing Joe again to tell him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Allison surveyed the trail of crumpled, chocolate-bar wrappers that littered the kitchen counter. She always shoveled down chocolate when she was stressed or miserable but this time they hadn’t made her feel better. She wondered if anything could. Except Joe.
Joe.
She’d longed for him every second since he’d walked out of her life a week ago.
How could she have let him go?
How could she have let herself be sucked in by Peter? Her desire for Mitchell to be with his natural father had made her gloss over the doubts she’d had about her ex-husband’s sincerity.
When she’d confronted Peter with what she’d learned about Mitchell’s trust fund from Bill and Nancy, his desire to play happy families had dissipated. Surprise, surprise.
Peter was more to be pitied than despised. But, in spite of her anger with him, she couldn’t help remembering his motives for bringing Mitchell the toy elephant. Maybe there was still hope for a relati
onship between Peter and his son. She never wanted to lay eyes on her ex-husband’s face again. But perhaps he could see Mitchell with Bill and Nancy when they were visiting. That is, if he could forgive his parents for disinheriting him.
Allison sighed and bit into another chocolate bar. Her family life had been far from perfect, but when she delved into other people’s families she saw flaws there, too. Peter felt his parents had abandoned him at boarding school. Joe’s immediate family sounded wonderful but what about the parents of his cousin who had kicked her out, pregnant at age fifteen?
Would her birth father have been any better than her adoptive one? She’d never know. And at least her adoptive father had provided for her materially when she was growing up. But Mitchell’s biological father had proved himself unworthy—despite the fact he was “flesh of his flesh”. Joe had given him way more love. Had her compulsion to keep Peter in Mitchell’s life lost her son someone more important?
Joe. Her thoughts always came back to Joe. She’d lost him. But she couldn’t forget him. Even if she tried to bury her memories, Mitchell wouldn’t let her. Every so often he’d ask for Joe and his little face would cloud over when she’d tell him Joe couldn’t see them right now.
She couldn’t sleep, spending the nights tossing and turning, thinking endlessly of Joe, hugging his jacket that still smelt so heart-rendingly of him.
Today she’d actually called in sick to the bank, something she’d normally never do. But in the state she was in, she knew she wouldn’t be able to work. Mitchell was off with Katie at playgroup. She needed time to think things through, or she felt she’d go crazy.
So why was she now walking to her bedroom, and picking up his jacket? She had to give it back. She had no right to keep it here. She could mail it, of course, but it was bulky and it was a nuisance to get to the post office.
Who did she think she was kidding? Allison knew she really wanted to see Joe. If she took the jacket back she might see him, maybe work things out. Explain. She sighed. Now she really knew she was kidding herself.
She’d take his jacket down to his house at Avalon on the Northern Beaches now. She hadn’t been there, but she knew the address. It was the middle of the day. He was unlikely to be home. She’d leave the jacket by the front door. By returning this last link with him, maybe she’d feel some sort of closure.
It was all she thought about during the hour it took to drive away from the city center, through the bushland of the Wakehurst Parkway, and then past a string of headlands and sandy beaches she rarely found time to visit, to the beachside suburb where Joe lived.
But as she walked up the pathway to Joe’s front door, she saw his Harley parked in the driveway. She stopped dead, feeling as though her feet were frozen to the paving stones.
Her heart thudded so quickly and so violently she gasped for air. Nausea rose in her throat.
She couldn’t face him.
But it was over. She understood that. She could just give him the jacket and go.
Her first knock was so weak no one could have heard it. She steeled herself to knock again, rather than turn tail and run back down the path to her car.
She knocked so hard the second time she recoiled at the harsh sound of it.
Don’t let him answer the door, she prayed—at the same time hoping he would.
But it was red-haired Lindy-Bear who answered Joe’s door. Jealousy seared through her. Why was Lindy so at home at Joe’s house? Joe had said they were just friends.
Lindy looked surprised to see her. “Hi,” she said. She opened the door wider. “Come in.”
Allison had to force herself not to peer over the younger woman’s shoulder to see if Joe was there. She started to speak but had to cough to clear her throat. “I won’t, thank you.”
“Joe’s not here,” said Lindy.
Allison’s head automatically turned to where the polished black metal and chrome of the Harley glinted in the sunlight.
Lindy followed her gaze. “He’s gone off in the truck with Greg—you know Greg-Bear—to sort out some band business.”
Allison felt as though her whole body sagged visibly with the weight of her disappointment. “I wasn’t expecting him to be here. I came to give something back.”
She burrowed in the tote bag that contained Joe’s leather jacket. But she was so flustered a flurry of papers, tissues and chocolate-bar wrappers flew out and drifted to the ground.
She sank to her knees to retrieve them. What was wrong with her? All she could think about was Joe and Lindy. Joe and Lindy together. Please don’t let her cry in front of this girl.
She pushed the stuff into the bag and got up. “Joe left this at my house.”
She handed the jacket to Lindy who accepted it without really looking at it. Allison was stunned at the warm understanding in her eyes.
“You don’t want to wait for Joe? He shouldn’t be long.”
“No,” Allison blurted out. “He doesn’t want to see me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Allison nodded. Tears smarted her eyes and she blinked down hard to suppress them.
“I think you’d better come in, have a drink.”
Allison wavered on the threshold.
Lindy smiled. “It’s not what you think. Joe and I are buddies. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I’ve landed on him here while I look for a new apartment.”
Relief so intense washed over Allison her knees threatened to buckle. “I...I would like a drink, thanks. Just water would be fine.”
“Hot tea, I think,” Lindy said. “Come on.”
Allison followed her into Joe’s house. It was old and a little shabby but as she walked into the living room she gasped at the view of the sea.
“This is amazing.”
“Isn’t it? Come onto the veranda. The view’s even better there.” The veranda was supported by high poles. Below, the garden stretched to trees, then the beach and a wider view of the ocean.
Allison nearly tripped over the large black labrador who lay on the veranda just outside the sliding glass doors.
“Just step over him,” said Lindy. “This is Wilbur, Joe’s dog. Lazy old thing.” At her affectionate tone, Wilbur thumped his tail on the wooden floor.
Allison ducked down and held out her hand for Wilbur to sniff. He licked it in friendly greeting and thumped his tail again. She petted him. Joe’s dog. He’d told her about him when she’d asked about the doggy smell in the car. She loved dogs. Wanted Mitchell to grow up with one.
Tears of bitter regret stung her. If only things had worked out differently. She sniffed back the tears.
“I’ll get the tea,” said Lindy.
Allison sat on one of the wooden chairs pulled up to a wooden outdoor table. Curious about Joe’s house, she ached to go inside and look around. She’d love to see his bedroom, his bed…
Lindy brought the tea back to the veranda. Allison sipped it gratefully, welcoming its soothing warmth. She’d gotten into a tea-drinking habit since living in Australia.
“So what happened with you guys?” Lindy asked. “Joe’s been hell to live with.”
“We broke up.”
“So? Why don’t you get back together again? You look as miserable as he does.”
“He said not…not to crawl back to him.”
“That’s typical of him. He’s as stubborn as hell. Has been since he was in kindergarten.”
“So...you don’t think there’s a chance of him unbending?”
Lindy shrugged. “He doesn’t give second chances, never has. But you can try. Why not? I’ve never seen him as keen on a woman as he was on you.”
“Really?” Allison’s heart flipped over.
Lindy nodded. “Really. And I’ve seen some girlfriends come and go, I can tell you.”
“You...you and he...you never...?”
Lindy laughed. “I was in love with him when we were six years old—all the girls were—but he was never interested in me as anything but a fri
end.” Her face softened. “He’s a really great guy. Such a big heart. Has he told you about his school?”
“No.”
“He wants to set up a school to teach kids with special needs through music. It’s been a dream of his for years.” She laughed again. “Once we’ve had as much fun, and made as much money as we can from the band, of course!”
Allison bit down so hard on her lower lip she feared it would bleed. She wanted to be discussing Joe’s hopes and dreams with Joe, not his friend Lindy, nice as she was. But Joe was no longer part of her life. Being in his house, with his dog and his possessions around her, only pointed out to her that she didn’t have any right to be here.
A pair of Joe’s boots sat by the door; they were molded to the shape of his feet, and the way they were placed echoed the way he stood. A book lay face down on the table in the living room. Had he put it down when someone interrupted him?
Joe had a life quite apart from her, and there was no room for her and Mitchell in it. It was too painful to for her to sit here, knowing she’d blown any chance of sharing his life.
Despite what Lindy had said, Allison wasn’t going to hang around hoping for a chance to throw herself at him. She had more pride than that.
She had to get out of here, as quickly as she politely could. Forcing a smile, she thanked Lindy for the tea and left Joe’s house without looking back.
The tears started as she pulled away from his driveway—painful, burning tears. She had to pull over just up the road and, her head resting in despair on the steering wheel, let her sobs subside. Never had she felt such an agony of loss.
She scarcely knew where she was driving, but when she got home she knew she couldn’t face the empty house. Mitchell was out with Katie until after lunch.
She drove down to the park at the end of Blues Point Road. She sat on the same bench where Joe had sat reading a book the day she’d virtually accused him of letting Mitchell get kidnapped. She imagined she could still feel the warmth of his body on the wooden seat.
She stared unseeing at the magnificent view of Sydney harbor, dominated by the arch of the bridge and the graceful white sails of the Opera House. The view became hazy through a mist of tears.
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