The Goodbye Girl

by Angela Verdenius

  Sweat started to trickle down his back as he pounded onwards, but he ignored it.

  Maybe he’d be disappointed, but he’d decided that there could be no disappointment in meeting the woman who cared enough to write to lonely soldiers and send them care packages. If she was a shy little thing, then that was okay, too. He just wanted to meet her, talk to her, thank her.

  See if that link he felt was as strong to her in person as the link he felt when he read her letters.

  Today he’d start looking for her, but he’d have to be subtle about it. To be truthful, he had no idea how she’d react to having one of her ‘soldier boys’ looking her up, and he certainly didn’t want to jeopardize another lonely soldier’s chance to have a link home.

  Yep, he’d be subtle about it.

  But he wouldn’t deny that he was looking forward to meeting her, to spotting her from a distance if necessary, if she really didn’t want to know him. He’d find out who she was, watch her, see if he could get a feel for what kind of a person she was, if she’d welcome a ‘g’day’ and ‘thank you’.

  And maybe a cuppa and a chat. Yeah.

  With renewed vigour, he fastened his pace, rounding the bend in the road to see an old blue Ford Transit van coming towards him. It would have been fine, except the van went right through a huge puddle, spraying Nick from top to toe.

  “Shit!” He couldn’t stop the gasp when the icy water hit him.

  Stopping on the side, he ran his hand over his face, wiping the muddy water from his eyes and flicking it away. His shirt was saturated with muddy water, his shorts clinging to him. His sneakers were squelching when he took a step to the side.

  The sound of an engine slowing then backing up had him turning to see the van reversing up until the passenger’s door was level with him.

  “Hells bells, man, I’m so sorry,” a feminine voice greeted him.

  He knew that voice, and turning his head, found himself looking directly into the hazel eyes of the woman from the café the previous night. Two things hit him at once - she was as pretty now as she was then, and merriment danced in her eyes even though she seemed genuinely sorry.

  “Man, I am so sorry,” she repeated.

  “It’s all right.” With a rueful grin, he wrung out his shirt. “Guess I won’t need a shower now.”

  “Get in.”

  He paused in the act of flipping his shirt down. “Pardon?”

  “Hop in the van. I’ll take you home.”

  He was astonished. “To your home?”

  “You’re a stranger. Why would I take you to my home?”

  “Why would you take me anywhere?”

  She pursed her lips, and wow, those lips were as full and lush as her hips had been under those figure-hugging jeans. “I’m not taking you anywhere, mister, I’m taking you to your home.”

  “You don’t know me,” he pointed out, feeling rivulets of water trickle down his legs into his soaked sneakers.

  “And yet I’m offering you a lift. Whatever is the universe coming to?”

  Well, she was offering and he was soaked. Now that he’d stopped running the cool breeze was bringing up goosebumps. And he knew he wouldn’t hurt her, so… Nick opened the passenger door and got in, sitting his wet bum on a thick towel.

  “Good thing you have vinyl seats.” He clipped on the seatbelt.

  “Makes it easier to clean up blood from my victims.”

  Nick cast her a glance.

  Expression serene, she put the van into gear and pulled onto the road. “Scared?”

  “I think I’ll survive,” he replied dryly.

  “You just keep thinking that.” She checked the rear-view mirror. “Where to?”

  “Do you know Harly Lawson’s place?”

  “Everyone knows Harly.”

  “I’m staying there.”

  “Ah.” She looked sideways at him before returning her gaze to the road. “There’s a tea towel in the glove box you can dry your face with.”

  Wondering what she was doing with a tea towel in the glove box, Nick popped it open and took it out, rubbing his face and hair dry before sitting it neatly on his lap.

  Silence filled the van as he studied her curiously. Long, black hair was pulled back in a thick ponytail that fell halfway down her back, small gold hoops pierced her earlobes, and her cheek was tinged pink. He’d bet it was from cold and not cosmetics, because her window was half open and the cold air was blowing through.

  Her profile was pretty - uptilted nose, lush lips, small, stubborn chin, and thick eyelashes. So thick and long, in fact, that he wondered if they were fake.

  His gaze slid lower. She wore a long-sleeved t-shirt that hugged a pair of magnificent breasts. Jesus, if he cupped one in his palm he had no doubt it would overfill his hand, and he had big hands.

  Stretch jeans hugged generous hips and rounded thighs, and a pair of neon pink sneakers shod her feet. His gaze drifted back up. A wide gold bracelet with weird scroll marks on it was wrapped around one wrist, several gold rings were on her fingers, and her nails were painted blood red.

  She slid a look his way. “Problem?”

  “What? No.” Hastily, he averted his gaze, a faint flush staining his cheeks. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d blushed. Since when had he ever been caught off-guard by anyone? By a woman at that, one he’d just met? Twice, actually, but still… “Ah - the turn is just ahead.”

  “I know.”

  Well of course she knew, hadn’t she just said everyone knew Harly? With a sigh, Nick combed his hand through his short hair.

  “You sure you’re okay?” The woman turned the van into Harly and Alex’s driveway and rolled towards the house.

  “Fine.” He unclipped the seatbelt as the van came to a halt. “Listen, thanks a lot. You didn’t have to do this.”

  She turned her head, a huge smile flashing across her face, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Sweetie, I half drowned you. I had to do this or suffer bad karma.”

  “You believe in karma?”

  “Apparently.”

  Nick blinked. “Apparently?”

  “Long story.”

  “In that case, maybe karma is getting back at me for some things.”

  “Hmmm. Have you made a will yet?”

  Amusement filled him. “You think it could be that bad?”

  “Only you know that.”

  Her good humour was infectious, tickling at him, making him smile widely back at her. “Right.”

  Her gaze slid over him. “You better get inside and have a hot shower and change of clothes. You don’t want to catch a cold.”

  “Can’t catch a cold from rain, Ma’am.” He opened the door, strangely reluctant to get out.

  “But why risk it, right?” She waited patiently.

  Not wanting her to regret giving him a lift, Nick jumped out and shut the door. Jogging around to the driver’s side, he looked at her through the open window. “Thanks for the lift.”

  Laughter had her hazel eyes sparkling. “What about for the impromptu cold shower?”

  He grinned. “Oh, definitely for the shower. Thanks very much.”

  “I promise not to make a habit of it.” Putting the van in reverse, she waved her hand. “Toodles!”

  ‘Toodles’? Who the hell ever said ‘toodles’? Fascinated, Nick watched as the van left the property. Scratching his head, he turned to the house, climbing the steps and kicking off his squelching sneakers on the edge of the veranda.

  Somehow, he felt a whole lot lighter, like a ray of sun had burst in on a cloudy day. As though her amusement had seeped into him, airily flinging aside some of his darkness, flapping the cobwebs from his sense of humour, making him…sound like an idiot.

  Frowning, Nick placed the sneakers neatly side-by-side before opening the door. Hell, in the space of ten minutes he’d blushed, ogled a woman, was reluctant to get out of her old van, and was thinking of rays of sunshine. And, he realised, he didn’t know her name.

 
From his seat at the kitchen table, Alex raised his eyebrows as Nick walked past the doorway. “Did you roll in a puddle?”

  “Nope. Had one flung at me.”

  “Oh, okay.” Alex placidly took a sip from his cup.

  “I’m going to wash up.”

  “Good plan.”

  Sunny, the youngest of the cats, trotted behind him as he collected dry clothes from his bedroom and followed him into the bathroom.

  “I’m shutting this door,” he told her. “Once it’s shut I’m not getting out of the shower to open it for you.”

  Sunny jumped up onto the wash basin and proceeded to investigate his toilet bag.

  “You’ve had your warning.” He grabbed the strip of condoms she unearthed with one paw from the bottom of the toilet bag. “Behave.” Grinning, he gave her ears a quick fondle, which had her closing her eyes and bursting out in enthusiastic purring.

  The shower was hot, welcome, returning warmth to his cold, damp body, and by the time he came out steam was filling the air.

  His toilet bag was on the floor, the deodorant stick being batted all around the bathroom floor by a delighted Sunny. His comb was behind the door, and his toothbrush - ye gods, she’d managed to get it out of the toothbrush container and cover it in cat hair.

  “Last time you come in with me, missy,” Nick growled.

  Sunny shot the deodorant stick across the floor so it landed against his foot.

  “I don’t care how well you play deodorant ball, you are not ever coming in here with me again.”

  She head-butted him.

  “Don’t try and be cute.”

  Sitting at his feet, she looked up at him. It was only when her eyes got big, the pupils enlarging, that he suddenly realised he was naked.

  “Oh shit, no.” Scooping her up in one hand, he opened the door a fraction and pushed her through it to the hallway. “No way.”

  Talk about close encounters.

  Shaking his head, Nick dried off and dressed in jeans, t-shirt and open flannel shirt before gathering his scattered toiletries and heading for his bedroom, where he donned socks before padding out to the kitchen.

  Harly was at the stove cooking, her smile welcoming. “’Morning, Nick. How did you sleep?”

  “’Morning, Harly.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head before sitting at the table opposite Alex. “Excellent as always. If I ever buy my own house, I’m taking that bed with me.”

  “Not likely,” Alex said. “I have fond memories of that bed.”

  “Yeah, not sure I want you to go further with that.”

  Harly gestured to the frying pan. “Bacon and eggs?”

  “Please.” His belly chose that moment to rumble. “I worked up an appetite already.”

  Alex yawned. “Some of us like to stay snuggled in bed.”

  “Some of us,” Nick whispered as Harly turned back to the stove, “have someone worth staying in bed for.”

  “Right hand not good enough?” Alex asked, poker-faced.

  “Not today. You do realise we’re talking about me being in your guest bed, the one you have fond memories of?”

  Alex grimaced.

  “Yeah, I thought so.” He smiled up at Harly as she placed a cup of hot tea before him. “Thanks.”

  She ruffled his hair like a child before returning to the stove. God, Harly was mothering him. That felt nice. Even though she was a little younger than him, she had that motherly, caring air about her. It was a wonder Alex hadn’t knocked her up yet.

  Curiously, he cast a glance across the table to where Alex was cradling his cup of tea between his palms. His friend was watching his wife with eyes warm with love, the contentment practically oozing from him. It was nice to see, comforting in a way. It proved that marriages could remain strong even when couples had to spend a lot of time apart.

  The love that binds. He wondered what that would feel like, he’d probably never know.

  “Got any plans for today?” Harly broke eggs into the frying pan.

  Rousing from his thoughts, Nick sat back in the chair. “Thought I’d go into town, have a look around.”

  “That takes care of ten minutes.” Alex laughed.

  Nick grinned when Harly looked pointedly at Alex. “And what are you doing today?”

  “Hmmm, let’s see.” Alex ran his gaze up and down her, a gleam in his eyes.

  She blushed.

  Grinning, he slouched in his chair. “Actually, I told Paul I’d help him build the new room onto Maryanne’s café.”

  “He’s starting today?” Harly kept her gaze on the frypan.

  “Yep.” Alex looked at Nick. “If you come to a loose end, you can join us. Bit of work will be good for you.”

  Nick nodded. “Sure.”

  “You’re on holiday, Nick.” Harly slid fried eggs onto the plates. “Don’t feel you need to do anything.”

  “It’s fine. I like working with my hands.”

  “Makes a change,” Alex said.

  “Hey, I work with my hands.”

  “Being Sarge means you tell others to work with their hands. You were smiling the whole time you told Hollins and Barker to dig the new latrines.”

  “Your point?”

  “I didn’t see you pick up a shovel in your lily white hands.”

  “Some of us are born to lead.” Nick buttered toast. “Don’t be bitter.”

  “Sarge, huh?” Harly sat down opposite him. “Doesn’t that mean you’re working under Alex’s orders?”

  “Don’t be bitter, Nick.” Alex smirked.

  Nick flipped him the bird.

  “Ooohh, if my mother saw you now, she’d box your ears.”

  “Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.” Harly passed him the salt shaker.

  Alex slid her a look. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  She arched her brow at him.

  He saluted.

  “That’s my soldier boy.” Laughing, Harly reached for the butter.

  The by-play between his friends made Nick smile, but her words nudged at him. ‘Soldier boy’. Today he was on a stealth mission to find the elusive Goodbye Girl. Actually, now that he thought about it…

  Nick caught himself before he asked Harly if she knew a woman called Bree. To be fair, he hadn’t told Alex that he was looking for Bree while he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure that his friend would agree. He hadn’t discussed it with Alex and he wasn’t about to, not right now. Maybe later, depending what happened.

  He got a lift into town with Alex, getting out of the Jeep at the back of the café where Paul and his workers were already at work.

  “Come to do a bit of honest labour?” Paul stood with the plans spread out on the bonnet of the work ute. “Two tough soldiers, we should have this room up in no time, hey boys?”

  The carpenters, Smithy, Mack and Bundy, all of whom Nick had met the last time he’d come, grinned.

  “’Course, without the snazzy uniforms the sheilas won’t be salivating at your feet,” Smithy drawled.

  “I have Harly,” Alex replied. “The pick of the bunch.”

  “I have no-one.” Nick sighed. “I better go and put my uniform back on.”

  Bundy strutted past fastening a tool belt around his waist. “Real men don’t need uniforms to attract women. Take me for instance-”

  “Here we go.” Smithy rolled his eyes under his shaggy brows.

  “Women pant after me.” Bundy waved his hand around. “Paul had to clear the place before I came, give me the all clear before he’d let me out of the ute.”

  “Jesus,” Paul said. “Am I paying you to gab or what?”

  “Or what,” Bundy replied without batting an eyelid. “So once all the sheilas are cleared away - protesting mightily, mind you - he lets me out. In fact, Paul told me he’d hired two professional soldiers to guard this manly body.” He ran his hand down his skinny chest, his bow legs with the knobbly knees hairy and decidedly unattractive. “Guard this body well, boys.”

  Smithy gagged.
r />   “I know.” Bundy nodded. “It’s hard to stop the jealousy, but I understand.”

  “You’ll understand my foot up your arse if you don’t get to work,” Paul muttered.

  “I didn’t bring my tank,” Alex stated. “How about if I just stand guard with a shovel?”

  “I’ll patrol the perimeter,” Nick offered. “Divert the lovely ladies with my manly good looks.”

  “Son,” Bundy replied kindly, “why would the sheilas go for you when they can have this?” He held out one hairy leg with a mud-spattered boot on the end. “This is a man’s leg. It’s tough, hairy, and full of muscle.”

  “Sinew.” Paul folded the plans. “Sinew and bone. Your leg is bloody unattractive. Put it away before I bring up my baked beans on toast.”

  “Baked beans on toast?” Mack looked around. “You’re not coming into close quarters with us, are you?”

  “I’m the boss,” Paul returned. “I fart where I want, when I want.” He lifted the corner of his lip. “I even had a double helping of baked beans knowing we’d be working real close together.”

  Alex turned to Nick. “I’m joining you in patrolling the perimeter.”

  Nick laughed.

  Maryanne came out of the back of the café bearing a cardboard box with six takeaway mugs in it, steam escaping from the lids. “How are you boys holding up out here?”

  Smithy, Mack and Bundy swarmed her.

  “Good, if we actually get going,” Paul answered.

  Maryanne cast him a look. “Becky feeling the hormone surges?”

  Paul shuddered. “God, please, don’t bring up the hormones.”

  Nick and Alex looked at each other then back at Paul.

  “Becky’s pregnant again?” Alex queried.

  Paul nodded, a grin breaking out.

  Alex pounded him on the back. “Congrats.”

  “Yeah, man.” Hands in the pockets of his jeans, Nick grinned. “Number two, huh?”

  “Yep.” Paul was obviously pleased as punch. “Got a bun in the oven.”

  “Shall I tell Becky that?” Maryanne asked dryly.

  “Why not? She quite elegantly told her sister that I got her knocked up. In comparison, ‘bun in the oven’ is quite mild.”