by Kris Pearson
“And decided you deserved one.”
He shook it again, more cautiously this time, then eased the lid up. Half a dozen exquisite small shells filled the space inside.
“Beach in a box,” Anna said, gazing across at him. “I’ve been searching for nice ones while I’ve been out walking.”
“Frosty,” Jason said, trying to conceal the emotion in his voice. When had anyone last put thought into a gift for him? Bottles of wine, jokey T-shirts, an All Black rugby shirt once, but seldom anything that said the giver ‘got’ him. He swallowed, and pulled her close to hide his face in her hair. “Couldn’t be better.”
“I know men don’t like ‘ornaments’,” she murmured. “But that’s so beautifully made it seemed right. For someone who works with wood. And likes doing a good job.”
“And who needs a beach in a box because he doesn’t quite have a view of one.”
“No, not because of that,” she protested, laughing, trying to pull away. Finding he had no intention of loosening his hold, she sank back against him.
“Don’t want to let you go, Anna. Going to miss you.”
She stiffened in his arms. “Where did ‘Anna’ come from? You always call me Frosty.”
“Hmm. Maybe I do. Maybe I like calling you Frosty because no-one else does.” He kissed her hair again. “So have a good Christmas with all your family, and don’t go running off with anyone else.”
She tilted her head up and nuzzled his jaw. “Same goes for you and the mermaids.”
“Too scaly for me,” he said, dropping a quick kiss on her lips.
“And there speaks a man with hundreds of scales on one leg…”
“You got me there,” he agreed, relaxing his grasp on her. “You really need to go?”
She glanced at her watch, and sighed.
“I’ll drive you home then, if you’ve no objections. Give Scarlet Bay something to gossip about over Christmas. Or not - if you’d rather not be seen with your bit of rough…?”
She jerked out of his arms. “Jason!”
“You know that’s how they’ll see it.”
“It’s not how I see it, and that’s all that matters.”
He stayed silent for a few moments. “So I drive you?”
“You drive me crazy,” she muttered. “But yes please. Drive me home and let’s see who thinks it’s any of their business.”
He punched the van into life.
CHAPTER 19 – MID JANUARY
Anna changed into the glowing white dress in plenty of time, still wondering if it was too fancy for an exhibition opening. It was cut simply but superbly, and fitted her better than anything she’d ever owned.
A slim band of embroidered seashells accented with tiny pearls ran across the top of the bodice, drawing attention to her breasts for sure, but hardly so low as to be offensive.
The narrow straps made her skin look luminous. Or was that the Scarlet Bay tan?
Possibly it was the prospect of seeing Jason’s triumph…
Gallery owner Sven had arranged advance viewings for several journalists and art critics, and the reviews of ‘Beauty and the Birds’ had been enthusiastic so far.
‘Sharing the beauty of New Zealand’s feathered fauna’, Herbert Barry had trumpeted on the national radio arts review the previous evening.
‘See the city’s beautiful birds’, a couple of the Wellington suburban tabloids had announced more prosaically.
‘Ingenious and beguiling’, Hilda van Groen had written in that day’s online roundup of the arts, even going so far as to say ‘a perfect fusion of form and feathers’.
And there’d been the bonus of one of the Green MPs including a mention in his press release about the eco benefits of bringing into focus species which were often heard but rarely seen.
Anna did a final twirl in front of the mirror, knowing her high silver sandals would have her feet aching by the end of the evening. Also knowing they did wonderful things for her legs, and that having someone as tall as Jason was never going to cramp her style in the heels department.
“Are you nearly ready, Anna?” came her father’s slightly testy enquiry from one of the ground floor armchairs.
“Almost, Dad,” she called from the bedroom platform. She twisted her hair up into a casual knot, knowing Jason loved it like that. He’d suggested it made her look very ‘accessible’ - as though it might cascade down around her shoulders at any second so she’d be ready for bed.
She’d seen less of him than she expected since Christmas. There’d been one wild weekend in her apartment where he’d taken her out for his promised romantic dinner, and one relaxed weekend at his house in Scarlet Bay where she’d ‘neglected’ to let her family know she’d be anywhere nearby.
He’d shown her some of the exhibition pieces, including the nude beach shot; ghostlike and surrounded by soaring terns - one bird with wings exactly echoing her uplifted arms. Sensuous and spectacular.
“Okay, here we go,” she said, picking up her silver clutch and tackling the steep stairs with care. “Do you mind sitting in the back, Dad, because I’m collecting Jossy on the way.”
“Father knows his place,” Justice Michael Wynn grumbled. “I could always follow you there in my car.”
“Parking hassles,” she murmured. “And you didn’t have to come,” she added tartly. “In fact if Mum hadn’t got the ‘flu I’m sure you would have given it a miss.”
Her father stood as she reached the base of the stairs. “Possibly. But it was a chance to drop the Christmas presents home, and collect that book your grandmother swears she’s left beside her bed.” He ran fatherly eyes over her. “Very pretty, my dear. Being back at work suits you.”
Anna grinned behind his back as he headed for the door. Nope - it wasn’t work putting the sparkle in her eyes. Christmas without Jason had been horrible, but as soon as he’d returned from Cam’s boat, they’d spent long days together, and because the senior Wynns were living up at the new house, long nights too. It had killed her to come back to Wellington after the New Year weekend, but at least her designs were going well. The revolutionary metal shelving would indeed be going into commercial production. Her super-funky baby stroller had raised eyebrows but hadn’t yet been vetoed. And Jason’s jokey ‘bathroom in a box/kitchen in a crate’ ideas for campers were occupying her mind in a most satisfactory manner.
She locked the apartment and led him down to her little red two-door Audi for the short trip into town. Jossy was already waiting in front of her apartment, and it took only minutes until Anna was slowing in the hopes of finding a park. “There it is,” she said, pointing across to the gallery. “Looks like they’ve done something to the signage. And they’ve altered the displays in the windows for sure.”
“You’ve been here before?” her father asked.
“Yes, Dad,” she lied. “It’s a nice walk at lunchtime on a fine day. I’ll go up to the next corner and see if I can turn there.”
“And yet you have almost nothing on the walls of your apartment.”
“We don’t like things too cluttered, Dad,” Jossy inserted. “You and Mum have a lot of ‘stuff’ everywhere. It’s not really our style.”
“Things accumulate over the years,” Michael Wynn said. “Items you become fond of. It’s not always easy to give them up.”
“Unless you’re forced into it,” Anna muttered.
“Didn’t quite hear that,” he said leaning forward.
“Unless you’re forced into giving things up. When you haven’t given permission,” she repeated, suddenly finding courage to look her father in the eye in the rear-view mirror. That was as direct as she’d been about the baby in many years. Things had changed since she’d met Jason. She had changed.
Her father looked away and sat well back in the seat again. She flicked him a quick glance in the mirror. His complexion had turned a mottled red. With embarrassment or anger, maybe, but certainly not sunburn. Good.
She finally nosed the car into a
parking space and braked. Inspected her makeup one final time in the mirror while Jossy climbed out and brought her seat forward so their father could follow.
Why had she said that to him? What had brought such a contentious comment out of the blue? She was sure he’d known exactly what she was referring to. Had it been on his mind all these years too? She hoped so, because it had never left hers.
They made their way to the gallery’s entrance. “Oh, look!” Jossy exclaimed, gazing into the window.
The display was backed by a dark green panel. Anna thought immediately of Jason’s tall green wall at home. One superb photo was mounted here, spot-lit so it glowed like a jewel.
“But where’s the bird?” her father asked.
Anna examined the shot. Indeed where was the bird? “Got it!” she said. “It’s a bittern. They live by water and hide in the rushes. So well camouflaged with those streaky feathers.”
“It’s very tall and standing straight up,” Jossy said. “Looking just like the reeds. Can you see it, Dad?”
“I can now,” he agreed. “Clever I suppose, but being able to actually see the bird to start with would be a good idea.”
Anna caught Jossy’s eye and raised a brow. He was going to be like that, was he?
Their father, ever the gentleman, opened the door and they entered a magic space filled with shifting shadows and the earthy scent of a forest. Had the gallery used a special air fragrancer to match the photos? It seemed so.
Birds warbled and tweeted in the background, only just audible over the babble of conversation and laughter.
The waiter stationed near the entrance approached within seconds. “Red, white, or juice?”
Once drinks and purses were organised, an older man approached. “Good evening. I’m Sven Jacobsen. Very pleased to welcome you to my gallery for Jason’s exhibition.” He handed them a catalogue each.
“It’s spectacular,” Anna said, glancing around the big photos on the walls. Birds preened and ate and fought and perched and flew and nested everywhere, feathers luminous in shafts of sunshine or dramatic in moonlight. Of Jason there was no sign. “Is he here?” she asked.
Sven indicated a tall, dark-haired man in conversation with a group at the far end of the gallery. Anna’s breath caught in her throat.
Jason?
In a suit. A bronzy-pewter suit when every other man wore black or navy, much of it leather or denim.
In the week since she’d seen him he’d grown a short beard, and the dark scruff was trimmed from his cheeks but emphasised his lips and strong jaw. Was that going to feel scratchy or tickly or just plain sensational against her skin? It contrasted beautifully with the lighter suit, and echoed the darkness of his eyes. Eyes that unerringly found hers as some sixth sense caused him to turn fully in her direction.
That slow-burning smile she loved so much lit his face, and he excused himself from the people he’d been talking to. He strode, loose-limbed, toward her, glancing only briefly at Jossy and her father as he walked.
Anna lifted her face for a kiss. If her dad didn’t know they were seeing each other, this would convey the message for sure.
“Looking beautiful, Frosty,” Jason said the moment before their lips met.
“Not so bad yourself,” she answered once they parted again. “Introductions hardly needed here. You’ve met Josslyn, and you know my dad.”
Jason winked at Jossy and thrust his hand toward her father. “Pleased to see you again, Mr Wynn. I hope Trevor builds you another great house.”
“Indeed,” Michael Wynn agreed, breaking eye contact a little too soon and peering around the gallery. “Had no idea about all this until the girls told me. Quite an interest you have here.”
“Quite a talent,” Jossy corrected. “They’re fantastic, Jason. The whole setup is amazing. The feeling you’re in amongst the trees with the shadows playing over us. The smell of the forest.”
“And the birds aren’t bad, either,” Anna said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm.
They proceeded around the gallery slowly, sipping their drinks, accepting occasional canapes, enjoying the photos, and consulting their catalogues. Jason left them for a few minutes to join Sven and talk with other guests. When he returned Anna said, “They look wonderful at your house, but to see them displayed like this with proper lighting - that must make you feel it was worth all the work.”
“Sometimes it’s work and sometimes it’s fun.” He bent and added quietly only for her, “As you know.”
“Where’s the fun one?” she murmured.
He pressed his lips together. “In a private alcove.”
“There are lots of birds here I’ve never seen,” Jossy said. “Not even on calendars or TV.”
Jason pointed to the next photo. “More likely you haven’t noticed them, which is quite different. Ever spotted any of these?”
She looked for a moment and shook her head.
“Probably not on your apartment balcony, but they won’t be far away. Hedge sparrows - Dunnocks - people rarely notice them because they look a lot like house sparrows.”
“Pretty speckles,” Anna said.
Jason wrapped an arm around her waist. “And into oral sex and multiple partners.”
“Noooooo!” Jossy squealed.
Michael Wynn cleared his throat.
“Yep - quite keen on foursomes,” Jason added. “Drab-looking little birds, but they live exciting secret lives.”
Anna glanced up at him. “For real?”
“Would I tease you, Frosty?” He pulled her closer. “Not teasing on this occasion, as it happens - female Dunnocks often have simultaneous partners, and chicks from both.”
She tried so hard not to laugh, but the combination of the unlikely facts and his amused expression were irresistible. She and Jossy giggled and snorted until their eyes were wet. “Damn - you’ll have my mascara running,” she exclaimed.
And then she gasped, pulled away from him, and stopped laughing in a hurry.
*
Jason drew a deep breath as they reached the side alcove of the gallery - the space where all his ‘special’ photos were. The ones of Anna, lovingly manipulated so she was a beautiful presence in the background of each. Would she see how much he loved her?
He watched with dismay as her laughter stopped and she wrapped her arms around herself so her glass tilted over and some of her wine slopped, unnoticed, onto the floor. She squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them wide again and stared first at the display, and then at him.
“No Jason - I never signed up for this! Just the one shot, way in the background.”
“Is that you?” Jossy demanded, inspecting the ‘hot ghost’ compilation. “Very daring.”
Anna shook her head and mumbled, “You can’t see it’s me. Not back-on, and way behind the birds, and out of focus like that…”
“But it is you?” Jossy persisted. “In all of these?”
Anna swallowed, and walked slowly along the wall, her expression becoming more and more horrified as she inspected the bedroom scenes he’d captured.
Her torso, nude, used as a misty background for a majestic white heron flapping up out of water, wings concealing her breasts and groin, but leaving no doubt she was naked.
Her, lying on her side, a kowhai branch in sharp focus following the much hazier curve of her waist and hip. A pair of glistening tui feasted on the nectar of golden blossoms in front of a veil of luxuriant streaky hair,
Her, cross-legged in a tumble of sheets, lap filled with hungry chicks as though she was their nest. She’d been looking straight at him, daring him to take it, although of course he’d not shown her happy, cheeky face.
And at least a dozen more.
She walked on, shaking her head, dismay plainly evident at each of his careful compositions. “You thought this was an okay thing to do to me?” she whispered.
Then he watched her freeze. And focus on someone behind him.
“Tim,” she said in a
tight voice.
“New career, Anna?” It was brayed out confidently, and set Jason even further on edge.
“Justice Wynn - how do you feel about having a nude model in the family?” the visitor threw in her father’s direction. “Not really what we expect from a judge’s daughter, is it?”
“It’s not her,” Jason snapped, praying the man hadn’t been there when they’d turned into the alcove and Anna had given the game away.
“Of course it’s her. I know that little leaf-shaped mole. I know it intimately.” He reached out and touched Anna’s shoulder, rubbing his finger to and fro over her golden skin before she flinched and tried to shake his hand off.
“Get away from her, Tim!” Jossy snapped, fierce as a tigress in her sister’s defence. “You were a useless boyfriend, and I won’t have you hurting her again now.”
The pieces fell into place in Jason’s brain.
Tim.
Tiny Tim. The boyfriend who was mediocre in bed.
Tim Hathaway, the journalist who’d been bothering Essie about the judge.
“Wrong shoulder,” Jason said in the calmest drawl he could manage. “That mole’s on the left, not the right. And I’d take my hand off her if you don’t want this in your face.” He raised a clenched fist.
The reporter backed away, looking uncertain for a few seconds. Then he resumed his harassing. “You flipped the shots to disguise her,” he said jubilantly. “This just gets better and better.”
“You always were an unpleasant little prick,” Jossy hissed.
“Emphasis on the ‘little prick’,” Anna added with surprising venom.
Yeah baby…
“Girls!” Michael Wynn exclaimed. “I’m sure there’s an explanation for this misunderstanding.”
Anna shrugged. “Mole on the wrong shoulder, and no diamonds in that woman’s ears,” she said in a more moderate tone. “So no, not me. No story Tim - just like you got no story out of Essie at the beach.”
“I sincerely hope that’s not you, Anna,” her father said, peering more closely at the streaky hair behind the kowhai blossoms. “We’ve a lot to lose if it is. My reputation doesn’t need a scandal like this.”