by Nikki Logan
‘But I know how you feel—’
Nanna tutted. ‘How I feel, silly girl. Not you. Your whole life, you’ve pushed it so far down, squashed and pressurised it like crude oil. It couldn’t help but ooze out between all that effort, through the cracks.’ The frail hands rubbed Kenzie’s trembling ones. ‘I’ve recognised it in you since you were small. And I’ve watched you deny your very sense of self out of kindness to me and your father.’
Kenzie sobbed. Her pain resonated deep in his own chest.
‘That was wrong of me. It was too much to put on a child. Two generations of children. I am ashamed of myself.’
‘No, Nanna.’
The old woman was rebounding before his eyes. Clearly, Nanna did her best work in a crisis. ‘This is who you are, there is no sense in us denying it any longer. And neither should you.’ She sat back and took a deep breath. ‘Kenzie, go and splash water on your face and take some deep breaths.’
‘No. I don’t want to leave you like this—’
‘You’ll only be a moment. I could use that moment to collect myself. Take your young man with you.’
Your young man … He was thirty-two, not that young, but he definitely had no objections to being Kenzie’s for as long as she’d have him.
He stood and offered her his hand and then his other one when one wasn’t enough for her wobbly knees. They rose together and he turned her towards the cottage’s back door. Just before he crossed it, he glanced back at Nanna and invested his eyes with as much gratitude as he could.
And that was a lot given he used to communicate every way but verbally.
Nanna’s bottom lip quivered, and he gave her the room before she ran out of inner fortitude, urging Kenzie on with a gentle hand at her back.
Reaching the bathroom in such a small cottage took no time and he gently plucked Kenzie’s tear-dampened hair back so she could splash her face liberally with cold water. It took a fair bit of both to deal with the carnage. She then rose and blindly reached for a towel to pat herself dry, disentangling herself from his hold.
‘Oh, God, Dylan. I’m so sorry you had to see that.’
No. He was not going to let her push him away when she was so raw. He snagged the towel before she could and turned her, using a corner to gently pat away all the wet. If only he could do that for the suffering.
‘All I saw was immense love and immense pain from both of you. I envy you one and I’d do anything to spare you the other.’
And wasn’t that a revelation.
She was okay until she met his eyes and then all her good work—and his good patting—threatened to come undone as her eyes filled again.
‘I’ve hurt her so much. Did you see her face?’
‘I did. There was strength there. And reason. You’re both working equally hard to spare the other from any further suffering.’
That made three of them.
‘I suck as a human being.’ Her heavy sigh took with it the last of her strength. She practically fell forward against him and hooked a single arm around his back to keep herself upright. He gave her his strength to take the effort from her.
When did he start believing that was his job?
The two of them had stood close together, worked close together, carried stuff together, played together with Phantom, but this was the first time he’d actually had her up against him. Smelled her up close. Felt the softness of her body against his own. It was the first opportunity he’d had to feel how perfectly she fit under his chin and how completely right she felt tucked in there.
‘You don’t suck. You are an amazing human being. Look how hard you’ve worked not to hurt someone you love.’
‘I did just hurt her,’ she stressed against the shirt over his heart. ‘I could have just turned the part down. I should have.’
‘She doesn’t want you denying yourself for her. She just said as much.’
‘She’d say anything to make me feel better. She’s my nan.’
‘Which means she’s been an adult a lot longer than you. She’s more equipped to deal with news, no matter how tough.’
Kenzie pulled back enough to glare up at him. ‘Now you suck as a human being!’
It was impossible not to chuckle. His laugh infected hers until it burbled up and out as a kind of wry, watery giggle. And laughing together, so perfectly pressed together, was the natural segue into a different kind of togetherness. But as Dylan stood there asking himself whether he’d be taking advantage of Kenzie to kiss her right now, she took the decision out of his hands by stretching up onto her toes and pressing her lips softly against his.
Chapter Twelve
It was a kiss of gratitude. Of exhaustion. It was the emotional equivalent of her face being pat-dried with a fluffy towel as Dylan had just done so spectacularly tenderly.
And his lips against hers were every bit as gentle.
Gravity was quite happy to draw her back down and away from the kiss. That would be one solution. Nanna’s proximity was another. Both excellent reasons to release the octopus cling she’d initiated and the intimacy she’d sprung on him unawares.
But Dylan was a tall man; he only had to lift his head to achieve the same end if her kiss was unwelcome. Or awkward or embarrassing. But the only part of him that was moving was his lips.
Subtle. Experimental. Utterly restrained and non-threatening in a way that still managed to be entirely dangerous.
Kenzie pulled back the fraction needed to separate them and lifted her eyes to his. They broiled with the effort of not moving and his outward sigh blew cool across the dampness of her lips.
Tantalisingly hot and cool at the same time.
Just like the two of them had been since they’d first met. She could pull away—remember where they were and save this for another day—but there were no guarantees that they’d find themselves this close again, or her emotions this heightened. Or his usually impenetrable exterior quite this cracked. His gaze gave nothing away and so she kept it entrapped by her own as she lengthened her neck enough to bring her lips back to his again. Only then did she let her eyes flutter shut so she could just experience him.
And she realised that she’d been wanting to do this for a very long time.
But she couldn’t taste him well enough with politely shut lips, so she let them open on an exhale and then simply didn’t close again. A heart-thud later it was teeth sliding against teeth.
Who knew teeth could be so sexy? Was it only five weeks ago he’d revealed them with his first smile?
Strong arms gathered her in, up, as Dylan took control of the kissing. He might struggle to speak but his body language was one hundred per cent on point—he was having no trouble at all communicating with his mouth right now.
It spoke of hunger. Desire. Patience barely hanging in there. This was no kneejerk kiss of surprise. He’d been thinking about this at least as long as she had.
That incredible thought stole what little oxygen she had left.
She pulled away and gasped in a lungful of bathroom air, complete with her Nanna’s gently scented potpourri. She was all unsteady again, but this time there was a different reason.
‘Dylan …’ He let her go, but kept the contact close, stroking her hair. ‘Sorry. I’m not generally a swooner.’
His chuckle was an insanely sexy rumble and his voice had gravelled down to a frequency only heard by dinosaurs. ‘Is that what you’re doing?’
‘A little bit.’
She reached out for the cool sensibility of the ceramic washbasin and used it to steady herself. Then she slipped her wrist over its square edge so she could press her pulse against its coldness and hold it there.
Though the blood thundering past was so molten it couldn’t possibly do much.
‘It’s been an emotional morning,’ he said.
She glanced at his carefully neutral expression. She hated that he could look so unaffected when she was a mess.
‘Are you offering me a polite out?’ she whispe
red. The last thing she wanted him thinking was that he was obligated to play the gentleman.
She’d kissed him.
‘You didn’t come in here to be caught up in a seismic event,’ he murmured.
Seismic. At least Captain Composure felt it, too, even if he didn’t show it. ‘Well, no. But it’s certainly had the desired effect.’
She’d forgotten all about betraying her nan. Speaking of which, there was an old lady in distress out there while she was in here getting hot and heavy with a Canadian.
Truly sucky human being.
‘We should go back. Make sure she’s okay.’
Dylan let her lead the way out of the bathroom and Kenzie appreciated the gesture of confidence; though with her knees almost as unsteady as when she’d stumbled in, that confidence might well prove misplaced.
They returned to the little outdoor setting where the dying traces of heat steamed off three cups of untouched tea and Kenzie went straight to her nan and wrapped her arms around the older woman. The hug she got back was uncharacteristically firm. And it went on for an age.
‘Your friend must think we’re very odd,’ Nanna said, finally emerging from hug central. ‘Look at his face, he’s positively bemused.’
Actually, he was looking kind of longingly at all the hugging. Maybe it made him think of his own family so far away?
‘He can understand you,’ Kenzie murmured so that her nan could speak to Dylan, not about him. ‘Just not reply.’
‘Oh!’ Nanna turned to face him again, her fingers flattening against her cheeks. ‘I’m sorry, then, for causing such a scene.’
In the absence of speech, the most eloquent thing Dylan could do was reach for one soft, wrinkled hand and squeeze it gently.
She beamed up at him. ‘You are lovely. And kind. I’m glad you came along with Mackenzie today. Has she explained any of this to you?’
Dylan shook his head and Kenzie held her breath. This had never been her secret to share but the thought of being able to speak about it with someone was almost as intoxicating as that kiss. Especially when that someone was Dylan. Something told her he would have only sensible things to say about all of it. Besides, if anyone was going to understand her position in all of this it was a total stranger who knew nothing about any of it at all.
He led them in a three-way sit. Once they were settled, Nanna started.
‘It should be no surprise that Mackenzie is drawn to the stage.’ Blue eyes twinkled somewhat sadly, but at least they were no longer full of unshed pain. ‘But our family has always worked very hard to keep our feet firmly on the ground.’
She’d done that too, for many years, and denied herself the pleasure of floating. These past three days she’d felt more buoyant than she had for the past three entire years before them. Before that the most notable spikes in her passion were when she’d first started helping out in Rivervue’s props department.
And when Dylan had come to town.
‘You still look confused, you poor dear. Let me start at a different place in the story.’ Nanna’s fingers worried the edge of the lace tablecloth.
‘People in this town know me as Lucy Russell. My late husband, Jack … his people were Russells.’ Blue eyes clouded over as she sighed. ‘I haven’t used or even thought about my maiden name in sixty years, but, long ago, the people of this town knew me as Lucy Devon.’
Kenzie held her breath and Dylan’s wide gaze turned straight to her as her nan paused dramatically; his eyes were far more shocked than she’d have expected given barely anyone in town knew that de Vue was only a stage name. Let alone random strangers from Canada. Yet, if he had any words in front of her grandmother, he looked like her story would have shocked them right out of him. But Nanna’s serious tone brought his eyes back around to her soft voice.
‘Ron de Vue was my father.’
Butter cake solidified in Dylan’s belly and he turned his eyes to the beautiful young woman opposite him and then the still beautiful older one opposite her. Lucy was kidding herself if she thought she’d escaped her father’s affinity for performance: she introduced that particular story like an old pro and her big reveal had exactly the effect on him that it was probably supposed to.
Nanna was Ron de Vue’s only child. Nanna was that Lucy.
He exhaled slow and long. He should have recognised the likeness from his early research photos. And from Ron’s movies and production stills. The sapphire eyes should have been a giveaway—Ron had them, Lucy had them and someone else most certainly had them.
His focus found Kenzie—the Larrikin’s great-granddaughter.
‘So that’s why I’m a bit dark on all things bicentennial,’ Kenzie mumbled. ‘If you hadn’t noticed.’
Oh, yeah. He had.
‘De Vue is not the hero in our household that he is to the rest of the district,’ Nanna murmured. ‘To us he is merely a father who abandoned his family.’
De Vue. Not ‘my father’. Not ‘Dad’. Not even ‘Ron’. And said through vocal chords as tight as the skin over her cheekbones.
He’d long known that de Vue left Australia behind to step into the limelight, but he’d never thought about what that would mean to his wife and child beyond assuring himself that they were financially stable. There was no story there, for him. Or rather, the story he found was bigger than a young girl with no daddy. So he’d moved on from that, just like he moved on from one production to the next.
The next theatre.
The next country.
And here he was having tea with one of the women he’d so casually discarded.
‘Half of Brachen lost fathers in the war,’ Nanna went on. ‘I was far from exceptional not having one. But I knew deep in my heart that mine had chosen not to come back to us. To me. By the time others started to ask the question, the world had all but forgotten that the name de Vue had once been Devon. His people stopped sending money after my mother kept returning it. He offered to buy her a house instead and she accepted that—it was all she wanted from him: a home for her child. I don’t even know if he ever knew that he’d bought her a post office, but it went on to be so much more than a home. It became her identity. It was her independence. Eventually people just thought of my mother as Brachen’s tireless postmistress rather than de Vue’s cast-off.’
She folded her hands in the fabric of her lap. They lost all their agitation now her secret was out.
‘That building made it possible for my mother to build us a life on our own terms, separate to the man she had once called husband.’
‘But she never forgave him,’ Kenzie almost whispered.
‘And neither did I,’ the older woman snorted. ‘Didn’t want us but wouldn’t divorce us. My mother died alone and husbandless despite finding love years later. Real love. Enduring love. But she couldn’t be with that good man because some studio executive thought it would be bad for Ron de Vue’s reputation to divorce—’
Discomfort squirrelled in among the butter cake. Didn’t his lawyers bang on to him about the same things all the time …? Hadn’t he made concessions in the interests of Draven’s brand? Wasn’t he doing that right now?
But that tanking net worth stuck graphically in his mind.
‘—that it would only draw public attention to the family he’d left behind. That it might look like abandonment.’
‘Because it was!’ Kenzie’s exclamation was fierce.
‘Yes,’ Nanna breathed, ‘it was. He was not a man who could be relied upon. He was, very much as the world saw him, all larrikin and no substance. I imagine we did better, in the end, without him than we ever could have with.’
‘So, that’s why the Russells had nothing to do with the arts or with Rivervue, until—’ Kenzie’s head dipped.
Until her.
‘Theatre’s a silly, selfish world,’ Nanna sighed. ‘I was determined that no-one carrying my genes would ever waste their time in it. But I forgot that anyone carrying my genes also carried his. I don’t blame you, Macken
zie. You can no more help your curiosity about the theatre than you can your blue eyes. It’s DNA. I won’t love you any less for it.’
No doubt Lucy would always find it challenging to love that particular part of her granddaughter, though.
In the space of Kenzie’s indrawn breath, Lucy slumped in her wicker chair, as though unburdening herself of the truth had taken everything she had left.
Kenzie stepped in effortlessly. ‘We should probably get going, Nanna. You look like you need to rest.’
But the old woman pushed herself to her feet in spite of her tiredness. Maybe because of it. That one little defiance made it easier to understand how she could have pushed through the pain of her abandonment for her whole lifetime—and transferred it to her own descendants.
Dylan hurried to help just as Kenzie said, ‘I’ll take the tea things.’
Outside in the street, the two of them retraced their steps, more slow and thoughtful in their stride than when they’d come. Kenzie probably thought she was giving him time to absorb everything he’d heard but his mind was whirling with something else. It demanded his silence. He used the short time she was on the phone to her mother, arranging for her to call in on Nanna, to think.
‘So now you know,’ Kenzie finally murmured. ‘Surprise.’
The word had never sounded more joyless.
‘Your nan carries a lot of pain,’ he acknowledged.
But Kenzie was loyal before anything else. ‘Wouldn’t you? Her father chose fame and fortune over being with her.’
‘Do you think she’s ever given any thought to why that might be?’
‘Because he wanted the money, obviously. The applause. The movie-star lifestyle.’
‘People’s motivations aren’t usually that simple. Not deep down.’ He certainly didn’t write plays for the fame or the money. Though he’d definitely come to enjoy the freedoms both gave him.
‘There was no depth to Ron de Vue. Like Nanna said, he was a man without substance.’
Damn. This was not a fight he was going to win. Kenzie had lived her whole life in this paradigm and no casual conversation was going to undo twenty-five years of conditioning. And neither could he cite any of the sources he’d uncovered—people who knew Ron de Vue as an adult, maybe who knew him better than even his young, naive wife. There was no easy way of raising question marks about the man without leading Kenzie to wonder why he was doing it. What he knew.