The Goodbye Girl

by Angela Verdenius

  Shaking her head, Maryanne headed back inside.

  Standing with the men drinking hot coffee, Nick felt relaxed, yet eagerness pulled at him, too. He liked Alex’s friends, had grown to know them well, but his urge to discover who The Goodbye Girl was, was uppermost in his mind. Draining the last of his coffee, he informed Paul that he had a few things to do, but as soon as he was free he’d be back to help.

  Leaving Alex hefting several planks of wood with Smithy, Nick went around the café into the main street.

  As small towns went, Whicha was small. Small and friendly. It shouldn’t be too hard to find Bree. How to do it without being too obvious was the question, however.

  Pondering, he swept his gaze up and down the street. It was early morning, shops just starting to open. As he watched, a now-familiar blue van came up the road to disappear behind the hairdresser.

  Hello, his other mystery woman was a hairdresser. Or maybe just a customer?

  Attention caught, he kept his gaze on the shop door. Within minutes he was rewarded by the door swinging open and his mystery woman stepping out. As he watched, she tilted her head back and took a deep breath, a smile wreathing her red lips.

  Hmmmm. She was wearing lipstick. She had pretty pink lips anyway, didn’t really need lipstick, but he had to admit he wouldn’t mind licking it off if it was that flavoured gloss stuff women sometimes used.

  Lick it off? Now where had that come from?

  Nick’s gaze wandered over her. No slender nymph, this one. Generously proportioned, but in such a way it more than had his approval. A voluptuous hourglass figure was the only way to describe her, all big bosom and lush hips in a loose, pale blue top that was cinched at her waist with a narrow belt, and a firmly rounded derriere in black slacks that begged to be grabbed and squeezed. He just bet it was a soft handful.

  His fingers actually flexed.

  That bosom, well, it was a man’s wet dream. He liked that she didn’t try to hide her figure, enhancing the best parts with colour and flair as though thumbing her nose at convention. Yeah, he liked that.

  He bet she was a soft armful, too. Warm and soft and sweet and funny.

  From where he stood, a mere two shop doors down, he could see her face clearly. Sunny smile, big eyes, cheekily tilted nose, and dark hair pulled up in some arty-farty top knot that had tendrils dancing around her face in the breeze.

  He itched to take that top knot apart, to see if the thick hair was as silky as it looked.

  Hmmmm. Maybe he should think about asking her out, though a woman like her probably had a husband or boyfriend already. Any red-blooded man would be an idiot to let this lush piece of womanhood pass him by.

  His gaze dropped to her hands where they rested on her hips. No wedding or engagement ring that he could see, though maybe she took it off for work. Or maybe it was a friendship ring, didn’t women wear them on another finger? She wore several rings.

  He rubbed his chin.

  Turning, the woman spotted him and smiled widely. “Hey there.”

  Nick smiled back. “Hey there yourself.”

  “See you didn’t catch a cold after all.”

  “Can’t catch a cold from rain,” he reminded her.

  “Ah. Well, maybe that was karma.”

  Drawn to her, Nick started forward, only to be waylaid when an older woman with a blue rinse in her curly hair hurried over from the car she’d just parked.

  Grabbing his mystery woman’s arm, the blue-rinse lady asked breathlessly, “Did you go out last night?”

  “Yep,” his mystery woman replied.

  “Did you see any lights?”

  “Farmhouse.”

  “No, other lights.”

  Interesting. Nick couldn’t help but stop and listen.

  “Afraid not.”

  “But you did go out and watch for the UFOs, didn’t you?”

  Nick blinked. Whaaa…?

  “I certainly did,” his mystery woman answered, completely unruffled.

  The blue-rinse looked suitably impressed. “You weren’t scared?”

  “Fear, Charlotte, has to be controlled. I bought snacks, parked near the field, and watched for UFOs of which I saw none. Nadda. Zip.”

  “Oh.” Charlotte visibly wilted.

  “However…”

  Charlotte’s eyes lit up.

  “However,” his mystery woman repeated, “something hit my door while I was out there.”

  Side-swiped? Nick’s mouth tightened. Damn it, he’d warned her it was dangerous to go out in the storm.

  “I was parked near the field, the radio started acting up, and then something hit my door hard.” Hands still on hips, his mystery woman nodded. “Something was out there, Charlotte, I just don’t know what yet.”

  Charlotte clasped her hands together. “We have to have coffee, discuss our experiences. Come, let’s-”

  “Can’t, I’m working. Sorry. Another time, maybe.”

  “Are you going out again?”

  Nick waited to hear the reply.

  “Yep.”

  “To hunt the UFO?”

  “Charlotte, I am so out there.”

  She wasn’t kidding. Nick stared at her. His mystery woman was so far out there he wondered if she’d actually come back. UFOs? Really? Was she having this poor Charlotte on, pulling her leg?

  “Where’s your van?” Charlotte asked. “Is it in one piece?”

  “Its fine, I just have to crawl over the passenger seat to get in. I’ve got it booked in for repairs.”

  “Oh my, oh dear. These aliens can be dangerous.” Charlotte nibbled her bottom lip. “What if they caught you?”

  “I have never been caught by an alien.”

  Nick wondered if the men in white coats had ever chased her. God, what a shame. His mystery woman was either a nut or a liar. Talk about a let down.

  She chose that moment to glance over at him, and what she saw on his face must have tickled her fancy, because merriment danced in her eyes, those gorgeous lush lips curving up into a full-on smile that would have blinded him if he wasn’t now uncertain as to her sanity.

  Actually, her smile kind of blinded him anyway. It wasn’t just Becky having hormone issues, apparently.

  His mystery woman stepped back, her gaze switching to Charlotte. “I have to get ready, the first customer is coming soon.”

  “Are you going UFO hunting tonight?” Charlotte obviously wasn’t ready to let it go, following his mystery woman into the hairdressing shop.

  “Got other plans, though you never know about afterwards.” Her reply drifted back to him.

  Nick stared at the shop, mentally shaking his head. Figured, his mystery woman was a nut. But…

  Thoughtfully he stared at the little alley running beside the shop. Nah, really, he couldn’t…okay, he really should just walk away….oh, the hell with it. He went down the alley to the back of the shop. Yep, the blue Ford Transit van was parked at the back. Walking around to the driver’s door, he saw that it had been hit hard by something big. It dented in badly, and he had no doubt that she had to crawl over the passenger seat to get in and out of the van. But what could have caused it?

  Bending closer, he ran his fingertips over the dent. It didn’t have the look of another vehicle hitting it, no strange paint, and part of it…okay, that was weird.

  Standing, he shook his head. Part of it looked a little…rounded…as though whatever hit it had been round. But that wasn’t possible.

  After standing there for several seconds staring at the door, he turned away. Nutty mystery woman aside, he had other things to do, his own hunt, namely that of finding The Goodbye Girl.

  She just had to be saner.

  Returning to the street, he crossed to the little post office. One place to start, see if he could get a last name.

  The man who served him was tall, thin, and had a very prominent Adam’s apple. His name tag proclaimed ‘Ed’.

  Ed nodded at Nick. “’Morning.”

  “�
�Morning. Listen, I had an envelope delivered by mistake to me, addressed to a Bree, no last name. I was wondering if you could help me?”

  “Sure,” Ed replied. “Give me the envelope.”

  Nick’s heart leaped. “So you know Bree?”

  “I didn’t say that. I said give me the envelope.”

  “But I can take it to Bree.”

  “But you don’t know her.”

  “No, but you do.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “So why do you want the envelope?”

  “I work in a post office. I’ll return it to her address.”

  “If you give me the address, I can return it.”

  “But we don’t know if it’s the right Bree, do we?”

  Was he kidding? Nick stared at him.

  “What if I gave you a Bree’s address, and it wasn’t the right Bree?” Ed continued.

  “But there’s only one Bree in town, right?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “There’s more than one Bree?”

  “I didn’t say that, either.”

  Maybe aliens had come in here and scrambled Ed’s brains. For sure, Nick felt like he was in an episode of Twilight Zone.

  He took a deep breath. “If you could just give me-”

  “Sorry, confidentiality issues,” Ed informed him. “I’d get sacked.”

  “Look, I’m staying with Harly and Alex Lawson, and-”

  “Name dropping won’t get you what you want, sonny.”

  Sonny? Ed was only about ten years older than him. Nick took a steadying breath.

  “Can’t divulge information,” Ed stated firmly. “Anything else I can help you with?”

  “What if I told you I know what the box number is?”

  “Then I’d tell you to hand me the envelope and I’ll put it in the box.”

  Nick gave up. “Thanks. I’ll bring it in.”

  “Have a nice day.”

  Well, that hadn’t gone as planned. Nick walked down the street. Maybe he should just be upfront, ask someone if they knew Bree. It wasn’t as if it was secret service business, after all. Maybe he was making too much of it. He should just ask, meet her, tell her he’d seen her postmark and just wanted to say ‘hi’ while he was here and-

  “I’m telling you, something is out there killing cattle!”

  Nick’s attention jumped to an elderly man standing outside the little supermarket.

  “Cow found dead as a door nail this morning. Lying in Ben’s field, nothing for miles, head smashed in.”

  What the hell? Nick slowed as he passed the two men, straining to hear though he didn’t actually have to strain, as the man speaking was loudly proclaiming to all and sundry the latest gossip.

  “Charlotte saw a light in the same field!” the man exclaimed. “And today there’s a dead cow, gutted, all the organs taken, nothing left but a shell.”

  “Have you been drinking?” the other man queried.

  “You’ll laugh on the other side of your face when you wake up with lost time and a sore arse from being probed.”

  Nick couldn’t help but let out a bark of laughter.

  The old man rounded on him. “Don’t you laugh, sonny. Something’s happening around Whicha, and this is just the beginning.”

  “Sorry.” Holding up one hand, Nick strode past him. “My apologises.”

  Good grief, what was happening with this town? First Charlotte, then his mystery woman, and now this old man. Aliens? UFOs? Cattle mutilations? Really?

  Catching sight of the supermarket, he remembered that he needed a new toothbrush and walked inside. Standing before the display of toiletries, he was pondering his choices when a name penetrated his thoughts.

  “…and Bree said it.”

  Bree? He immediately looked up.

  “…told her…but then…Bree…”

  Someone in the next aisle was talking about Bree. His Bree? Possibly, very possibly. Almost undeniably. At last!

  Grabbing the nearest toothbrush, Nick hurried around to the next aisle, only to find it empty. Turning his head from side to side, he listened.

  “…could have knocked me over with a feather when Bree…” The voice faded away.

  Nick high-tailed it around to the next aisle, only to find a gaggle of women standing with their shopping trolleys in the middle of the aisles. Five women all chatting. At the sight of him, they stopped, their gazes travelling over him, a couple with open appreciation, a couple curiously, and one more than a little hungrily.

  Was the hungry one Bree? One of the curious ones? Maybe one of the appreciative ones, which would be good, because if they found the look of him worthy of that kind of look, he was halfway to not making her annoyed.

  He smiled and the hungry woman looked even hungrier. Man, she looked like a man-eater, too. Blonde hair, blue eyes, red lips, with a dress tight enough to show every slim curve to anyone’s gaze. Her gaze was pure predator.

  “Hi,” she practically purred.

  “Bree?” He couldn’t help but ask.

  She looked nonplussed. “What?”

  Talk about feeling like a dick. “Uh…I’m looking for Bree?”

  “Well, she’s not here, as you can see,” one of the older women replied.

  “Do you know where I can find her?”

  “I saw her going into the hairdresser.”

  The blonde smiled at him. “You’re staying with the Lawson’s, right?”

  “Yep.” The blonde was gorgeous, no doubt about it, but his mind was on another woman. “How will I know Bree when I see her?’

  Shit, that hadn’t come out right. Subtle as a bus arse-ending a motorbike.

  “You don’t know what Bree looks like?” The older woman studied him.

  He’d have thought that was obvious. Too late to back down now. “I’m afraid not.”

  “Huh. Well, she’s at the hairdresser. Ask there for her.”

  The blonde smiled, edging closer, one slim hand on the trolley handle. “I’m Felicity.”

  “Hi. I’m Nick.” He gave them all a sweeping smile. “Thanks ladies.”

  He made his escape, waiting impatiently at the checkout while the man ahead of him put his groceries through before Nick was finally through, the toothbrush in a small plastic bag dangling from his hand.

  Out on the sidewalk, he started for the hairdresser, only to pull up short.

  Hang on. Bree was at the hairdresser, maybe had those curler things in her hair, goop all over it. Barging in there and trying to make her happy to see him when she was sitting there with all that shit in or on her hair wasn’t the wisest thing to do.

  Crap.

  Maybe she was just getting a trim or something. That meant those steel peg things holding up chunks of hair, not a good look. Not that he’d give a flying fig, but it wasn’t going to win her over.

  Shit and double shit. Nick frowned at the front of the hairdressers shop. Now what? Retreat? Forge on? No, he wasn’t that stupid. He’d been around women for years, he wasn’t a novice to their way of thinking. Certainly no expert, because who the hell would ever fully understand the apparently gentler of the human species? Get them riled up and they’d get you, either through stealth or straight on attack, and they could leave a nasty sting.

  He didn’t think Bree would be like that, her letters hadn’t hinted at anything nasty, but one never knew. This was still uncharted territory.

  Okay, ease back, Nick. You haven’t thought this completely through. Uncharted territory required a bit of recon. He had time, all he had to do was be in town, work, keep his ear to the ground, and he’d soon find out who Bree was and where she worked.

  Yeah, he just had to ease up on the throttle. He was here for seven weeks more yet, though he’d planned to check out some other towns in-between to give Alex and Harly time alone, but still, he would be here most of the time. Barging around like a bull in a china shop just wasn’t the way to do it. He could very well end up embarrassing himself and his frien
ds.

  Damn good sense. Even though he knew he was thinking correctly, he couldn’t help but be annoyed, not able to quite tamp down the impatience at waiting. Personally, he preferred the upfront directive - walk in, ask who Bree was, introduce himself and talk. This tip-toeing around was crap.

  But he’d do it. Sighing, Nick started for the café. Damn it, he’d be subtle. Dumb arse.

  Determined to remain calm and directed, Nick spent the rest of the day helping Alex and Paul, finding the building soothing. Certainly made a difference when the day was cool, the surroundings were green and he wasn’t worried about getting his head shot off.

  Paul had the radio blaring rock songs, and the easy laughter of the carpenters and Alex was a soothing balm, helping to keep his mind off The Goodbye Girl.

  The only thing that troubled him was the thought that while he was working, she could be packing and leaving town.

  Squaring his jaw, he continued working.

  By the time they knocked off work, he was dusty, sweaty and more than ready for a shower. Harly greeted them at the front door, Buffy at her side, Sunny waiting for him on the hallway table. Sunny took one look at the plastic bag in his hand and her whiskers quivered.

  “Don’t even think it,” Nick warned her as she followed him into his bedroom and jumped on the bed.

  Pepper, the ancient cat, looked up from where she was ensconced between the quilt and pillows, and he gave her a gentle stroke before grabbing clean clothes and going to the shower.

  He could hear Alex and Harly talking on the front veranda, the light sound of rain starting to patter down on the tin roof. The smell of roast wafted through the house, all so cosy and warm.

  Standing in the shower, the water sluicing over him to wash away sawdust and sweat, Nick sighed. Man, he never wanted to leave. He wanted to stay here. Or maybe that was because everything seemed so nice, so far from what he remembered of his childhood and the Army.

  Alex was a lucky man, that much he knew, and he was happy for him. But Nick found himself wanting the same thing, a warm home and a wonderful woman waiting for him to come home from work. To have someone care about him, worry about him, be glad to see him. To have someone he could confide in, share his dreams even if he wasn’t sure himself what they were yet, who would laugh with him, share her day, share her worries. Be there for each other.