Heart's Passage

by Cate Swannell

"Come on, you bugger, make up your mind," she muttered. Tentatively he took a couple of small hops, holding his front paws together in front of him. "Come on then, cross."

  Just to be contrary the 'roo stopped and Jo decided to take a chance. She accelerated to give him a wide berth. As she reached cruising speed the animal changed its mind again and bounded out onto the highway.

  "Bastard!" Jo exclaimed, slamming on the brakes. She heard Doris give a yelp as the sudden deceleration rolled her off the back seat, but Jo was more concerned with the 'roo. He swerved almost in mid-air, kicked hard with his enormous back legs against the bull-bar on the front of the SUV and then sprang off into the bush on the other side of the highway. "God damn it," Jo muttered, heart pounding in her throat. "You okay, Doris?" she called over her shoulder.

  "What the hell was that?" grumbled the older woman as she scrambled up from the floor.

  "Dumb 'roo," Jo replied. "I think he's bent the bull-bar." She scrubbed at her eyes wearily. "Should've known better than to try and do this drive at sunset. They're always on the move then."

  "Do you want some company up there, Jo?" Doris asked, worriedly noting the tired slump of the skipper's shoulders.

  Jo shook her head. "M'okay, D," she murmured. "I just want to get home." Except home's about 30,000 feet up and several thousand miles away by now.

  Cadie replaced the receiver on the hook. She had had a frustrating morning. Despite several attempts the blonde had been unable to get through on Jo's cell phone number. That was unusual for the skipper and it worried her.

  She had worked out her finances, disconcerted to find that the airfare back to Hamilton Island was going to take a bigger chunk out of her prize money than she was willing to risk. Looks like it's a bus ride for me. Damn, is nothing going to be simple? She quickly double-checked her calculations. Enough for one more night in the hotel, a few meals, a bus ticket and, with any luck, one call home to Mom. She knew she could just charge everything to the credit card now, while it was still functioning, but something made her reluctant to do that. That life is done with. I want to do this on my own. And there was something deeply satisfying about using the money she'd earned on the Sea-wolf. A new life.

  There was a tap on the door and she got up to answer the knock, expecting to find a housekeeper wanting to change the towels. Instead a camera flash went off in her face as soon as she opened the door.

  "Hey!" she yelped, shielding her face from any further flashes. The man behind the camera stepped forward and she recognized him as one of the pack of journalists who had been at the airport the day before.

  "Hello, Miss Jones," he said with a grin. "I'm Tom Saunders from the Sydney Gazette."

  "It might have been polite to ask before you took that photo, Mr. Saunders," Cadie retorted.

  "Ah, but you would have said no, Miss Jones, and then I would have copped an arse-kicking from my editor. I'll do anything to avoid that," he said.

  "What can I do for you?" Like I don't know.

  "I just have a couple of questions," he said, pulling a notebook from his back pocket and sliding a pen from where it was stowed behind his ear.

  "That was the point of yesterday's press conference, Mr. Saunders. To answer any possible questions."

  "I know, miss, I know, but I'm a particularly stupid sort of bloke and I wasn't quite quick enough taking notes. So I was hoping you would answer them again for me." Cadie stayed silent, waiting for the reporter to get on with it. "I'll take that as a yes, then," he continued. "May I come in?"

  "No you may not," Cadie said shortly.

  "Fair enough. Okay, then. Well, yesterday you said that you would be staying on for a while. Any idea how long exactly?"

  Cadie thought carefully before answering. "A couple of weeks," she said finally.

  "But you won't be staying here, will you?" Saunders asked, smiling. "Because you're only booked in here on a night by night basis."

  So much for guest confidentiality, Cadie thought ruefully. "No," she said aloud. "I'll be returning to the Whitsundays tomorrow, to stay with friends."

  "So you had planned all along to stay beyond the senator's departure then?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Then why did the flight have to be delayed further yesterday while they unloaded your luggage?"

  Cadie had been a politician's wife far too long to let anything other than calm reserve show on her face, even though the question was a bolt out of the blue. "Mr. Saunders," she smiled at him. "I'm afraid I'm going to disappoint your editor because I don't have anything further to say beyond what was stated yesterday. I'm sorry you've come all this way for so little." She retreated back behind the door of her room and leaned against it as she slid the lock into place. A glance through the peephole told her when the journalist had left.

  "Jesus," she muttered. I was hoping the story would hold together a little longer than that. She glanced down at her watch. Early evening in Wisconsin. She picked up the phone again and dialed a long number. When it was answered, she smiled at the familiar voice. "Hi, Mom," she said quietly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Jo sat quietly in her chair up on the slightly raised stage of the Shute Harbor chapel. She looked out over the steadily-filling pews, nodding occasionally in greeting to the people walking in. Ron had been a popular character around the twin towns of Shute and Airlie Beach and both were pretty much shut down for the day. The skipper's eyes scanned the room. Paul and Jenny were already here sitting quietly on either side of Doris in the front row. Every other Cheswick Marine employee was present too, including Frank and his crew from the Beowulf, whose passengers had kindly offered to cut short their trip by a day.

  Again Jo swept the room, her eyes faltering only when they fell on the beech wood casket placed just in front of the stage. Ron's weather-beaten sailing cap was placed on top, resting on the white Australian naval ensign he was entitled to as an ex-Navy man.

  Jo sighed. The last three days had been a blur. Funeral arrangements had been largely left to her, and Doris had needed all the help she could get to keep the Cheswick Marine office up and running. Ron had left specific instructions for his farewell, something for which Jo had been incredibly grateful.

  Planning this from scratch would have been just too tough. The service in the chapel would be followed by a private cremation and then the Seawolf, and any other boats that cared to, would sail out to the far side of Whitsunday Island and scatter Ron's ashes over the stretch of water he adored most.

  Why can't I cry? So much that has happened over this past week has hurt. And I miss Cadie like... She swallowed. That hurts like nothing I've ever known. She closed her eyes and conjured up the blonde's sweet face in her mind. Where are you now, my love? I would give anything to have you close. She tried to imagine Cadie back in the snowy winter landscape of Chicago. I hope you 're okay, angel.

  Jo was brought back to reality by the gentle coughing of the presiding priest. The chapel was now full. In fact there was standing room only at the back and Jo felt a quiet sense of pride in the number of people who had come to pay their respects. She refocused, trying to concentrate on the priest's words as he began the service.

  You may not have had much in the way of blood family, Ron, but take a look around, mate. You were loved.

  Cadie was jolted awake by the sudden cessation of the bus' swaying motion. She came close to rolling off the three seats she was sprawled across, but just managed to brace herself with an out-flung elbow into the back of the seat in front of her.

  "Damn it," she muttered to herself. It was only about the trillionth time that had happened during the 29 interminable hours she had been on this bus since it left Sydney. Oh yeah. This was a good idea.

  The blonde sat up to ascertain where exactly they were. The few remaining passengers were gathering together their belongings and making their way off the bus. Cadie stood and caught the eye of the driver.

  "Airlie Beach, miss," he said in answer to her unasked question. "End of
the road."

  "Thank God," she muttered. Two days ago the bus had seemed like the best option, given the relatively restricted nature of her finances. As predicted, her credit card had ceased to function within hours of Naomi's estimated time of arrival in Chicago and Cadie had been trying not to spend money ever since. Twenty-nine hours and a rumbling stomach later, she was beginning to question her own wisdom.

  "I wouldn't expect to find too much open in town, though, miss," the bus driver volunteered helpfully.

  "Why's that?" Cadie asked, wondering how long it would take her to track down Jo. She gathered her bags together and shuffled towards the door. God, I hope they have cabs in this town, she thought, only half-listening to the man.

  "Everyone's gone to Big Ron's funeral," the driver replied. "I'm heading there myself now."

  "He must have been a popular guy," Cadie murmured wearily. She dropped her bag out the door and turned back to pick up the other.

  "Oh, that he was," he said. "Nobody better than Big Ron Cheswick."

  "Well, thanks for getting me here," she said, biting back the sentiment that she was amazed she was sane and in one piece.

  "No worries, miss," he said cheerily as he prepared to pull the door shut behind her. He restarted the big coach just as Cadie stepped onto the tarmac of Main Street, Airlie Beach. Moments later, the bus chugged off south towards Shute Harbor and she was enveloped in a cloud of choking exhaust fumes.

  "Perfect," she muttered, coughing the garbage out of her lungs. When the air cleared she looked around at her surroundings. Main Street was" essentially one long street lined by souvenir shops, restaurants, trendy boutiques, and coconut palms. The bus had dropped her outside JC's, a bar and steakhouse. She vaguely remembered Jo telling a funny story about a night she and her boss had tied one on here.

  Cadie wandered a little closer to the restaurant, happy to see that it was open. Her stomach growled again.

  If Jo and her boss think this is a decent place to eat, then who am I to argue, the blonde thought. Something was nagging away at the back of her brain. Jo and her boss... Jo and... ohhh shiiit.

  Cadie sprinted back out onto the road, looking in the direction the bus had headed, but it was already long gone around the corner of the bay. Her heart was hammering in her chest and a wave of longing for Jo welled up inside her.

  Damn it, I've got to get there, she thought desperately. Of course, it would help if I knew where "there" was. She stepped back onto the footpath in time to see someone coming out of JC's. As good a place to start as any.

  "Excuse me?" she asked as the man turned back to lock the door of the restaurant.

  "Yes, miss?" he replied, smiling as he tucked his keys into his pocket and walked out towards her.

  "I'm trying to get to Ron Cheswick's funeral, but I don't have a clue where it's being held, or how to get there from here. I was wondering if you could help me out?"

  The man smiled, revealing a sparkling gold tooth. "As a matter of fact, that's where I'm headed myself," he said. "Would you like a lift?"

  Relief washed over the American like a cold shower. "You know, that's the best offer I've had in days," she said, smiling back at him tentatively. "Thank you, yes."

  The swarthy man bent down and picked up her biggest bag. "Come on then. I'm parked over there." He gestured to the other side of the road. "You look like you've had a long trip. Are you a friend of Ron's?"

  Cadie swung her slouch-bag over her shoulder and trotted after him. "Not exactly," she replied. "Actually I've never met him." He looked at her quizzically. "But I am n friend of Mo Madison. My name's Cadie by the way." She offered a hand.

  He took it. "They call me Slick," he said, smiling at her curious look. "Don't ask," he laughed, opening the trunk of his car, and tossing her bag inside. "It all goes back to a very long night inthe70's." Cadie nodded in understanding. "A friend of Jo-Jo's, eh? She's a diamond in the rough that one."

  The blonde smiled at the description. "Do you know if she's okay?" she asked once they were in the car and under way. "I've been trying to call her cell phone for three days but she's had it switched off."

  "Not very surprising," he said, negotiating around a slow-moving caravan going up the hill above Shute Harbor. "She's had to organize the funeral and it's been a bit hectic, I think. She came in for a drink a couple of nights ago, and she looked like hell, to be honest."

  Cadie's stomach was tied in knots. Ohhh baby, I'm sorry I haven't been here. Damn it, I should never have left. Why do I always come to the right conclusion just that day or two too late?

  "Are you all right?" Slick asked, watching the blonde's fists ball up as they rested on her thighs.

  She nodded, making a conscious effort to loosen up. "Yeah," she breathed. "I just really need to get there."

  "You got it," Slick replied, flooring the pedal.

  It was Jo's turn to speak, and she suddenly wished she'd had some more time to think about what she was going to say. The preacher finished his introduction and there was an anticipatory silence as Jo felt eyes all round the chapel settle on her. With a slightly shaking hand she brushed a piece of lint from the knee of her pantsuit and cleared her throat. She pushed herself up and walked slowly to the podium.

  A couple of hundred faces turned her way and her mouth went dry. Public speaking was not Jo's cup of tea. Oh, a boatload of tourists was one thing but putting together coherent thoughts— paying respects to someone they all cared about—that was something else altogether. She reached for the glass of water balanced on the podium and quickly took a couple of mouthfuls.

  Cadie, I need you, she thought miserably. I'm tired and I'm sad and I don't want to deal with this on my own anymore. She could hear people coughing and shuffling their feet. Not that I have much choice about that. She took a deep breath and began.

  "When I first met Ron Cheswick he was interviewing me for a job as a deckhand. He had no reason at all to employ me. I'd never sailed before, I was new in town, and I'm sure I had that 'lean and hungry look' that made me appear a little desperate." A low ripple of laughter rumbled around the room as others recognized themselves in the description. Encouraged, Jo pressed on. "He saw something in me that I still, to this day, don't understand. That was one of the gifts Ron had..."

  Cadie hesitated outside the door to the chapel.

  I am so not dressed for a funeral, she thought self-consciously, glancing down at her jeans and rumpled, slept-in shirt. Bit late to be worrying about that now, Cadie.

  She reached for the doorknob but was transfixed by a familiar and very welcome sound—Jo's rich alto being projected through the chapel's speaker system. She closed her eyes as a thrill of anticipation ran through her, provoking a tugging ache low in her guts that surprised her with its intensity.

  Ohhh, Jossandra, what you do to me. She shook her head and opened her eyes again, almost laughing at her visceral reaction to the woman she loved. I'm at a funeral for crying out loud, she chastised herself. Melting into a big, horny puddle is not an option right now.

  She pulled open the door and stepped in to the cool of the air-conditioned chapel. Her first glance told her the place was packed. There was nowhere to sit that she could easily see, and the standing room was crowded enough to leave her out in the aisle. Her second glance was to the tall woman occupying the stage.

  Jo was dressed in an elegant black pantsuit over a pale blue silk shirt that brought out the color of her eyes. Cadie's breath caught in her throat at the sight of her. The skipper was as easy on the eye as always but it was the dark circles under those blue eyes and the lines of tension that most caught her attention.

  God, I wish I could just go up there and hold her. She looks like she could use all the support she can get. Instead she held her ground in the middle of the aisle, mentally projecting as much love as she could in her friend's direction.

  Jo was working the room as best she could, trying to pull everyone into the story of Ron's life. Somewhere in her mind she was vaguel
y aware of some latecomers entering the chapel, but as her eyes scanned the chapel the last person in the world she expected to see was...

  Cadie? Whatever she was saying stalled in her steps and Jo was left speechless. Oh my God... Cadie. The blonde's spurring green eyes beamed love and joy towards her and the skipper felt her heart stall in her chest, then rush to catch up to its rhythm. Damn, Jo-Jo, don't faint now. She was hard-pressed to keep the grin from her face, before she remembered why she was there and continued her eulogy.

  That's more like it, my love, thought Cadie triumphantly, relieved to see the beginnings of a grin flicker across the tall woman's face. Hang in there.

  A few minutes later Jo finished her tribute to the big Cheswick Marine boss and the formalities of the ceremony were completed. Paul joined her and four others of Ron's closest friends as pall-bearers, carrying the casket to the hearse. As they passed her, Cadie felt a warm, long-fingered hand slide into hers and squeeze briefly before moving on. Then she was caught up in the large crowd that filtered out into the brilliant sunshine.

  Cadie leaned against the outside wall of the church, watching quietly as Ron's casket was loaded into the hearse and people dispersed to their cars for the next phase of the funeral. She had no trouble keeping Jo in her sights, the dark-haired skipper's height making her easy to follow above the heads of most of the congregation.

  Finally Jo was done with the arrangements and was free to come looking for her favorite American. The two women approached each other slowly, grins adorning both their faces. Cadie couldn't wait any longer and broke into a run, jumping into the taller woman's arms.

  "Oomph." Jo rocked back on her heels as Cadie's compact body thumped into her but she quickly regained her balance, throwing her arms around the American and steadying them both. Cadie squeezed her hard, legs wrapped round the skipper's hips.

  "Oh my God, I am so glad to see you," Jo said breathlessly, close by Cadie's left ear.

  "I'm so sorry about Ron, sweetheart," the blonde replied.