Kiss It Better

by Jenny Schwartz

  He heard his own name ripped from Cassie’s throat as her climax caught him and whirled him away so that he shouted her name, once, triumphant, and roared as he came.

  ‘That was very uncivilised,’ she said later.

  Smugly he heard the hint of rawness from when she’d screamed. ‘Very.’

  She rolled up on one elbow, a thigh shifting over his. ‘Do you want to do it again?’

  ***

  In a vague sort of way Cassie figured that she should have known that sex between her and Theo would be explosive. They were both passionate but controlled. When you found someone whom you could trust enough to release that control with, fireworks were inevitable.

  But mostly she focussed on how she felt. Free. Happy. Perhaps even a bit awed. It had never been like this.

  They prepared dinner together, touching as they worked around one another. Then Theo barbequed prawns on the deck and they ate them with her rice salad while the last of the spectacular sunset faded over the sea and the stars came out.

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘What is?’ She looked at him in the subdued lighting.

  He gestured up towards the speakers set in the roof. ‘The music.’

  The music had switched on with the lights, so much a part of life here that she hadn’t noticed. She concentrated and recognised the group. ‘Two cousins and a friend of theirs. All violinists. I couldn’t tell you the name of the piece, though.’

  She smiled and stretched. ‘I burnt a lot of calories. I’m going to have ice cream. Do you want some?’

  ‘What flavour?’

  ‘Vanilla and coffee, or raspberry and white chocolate.’

  ‘You’ve convinced me.’

  They walked inside, dealing with the dishes then scooping some of each ice cream into waffle cones. It was an incredibly simple pleasure, and yet magic. She sat beside Theo on the outdoor sofa and when the ice cream was finished it was natural to turn and kiss. The night wind was cool and heightened the pleasure of warm skin against skin. This wasn’t the desperate sex of their first time or the disbelief and double-checking that anything could be so marvellous of their second. This was an all-the-time-in-the-world enjoyment of the moment and each other.

  Cassie relaxed into it. ‘You’re definitely a breast man.’ She hadn’t bothered with a bra and he was taking full advantage, now that he’d unbuttoned her shirt.

  ‘I like your breasts. Big enough to squeeze.’ He demonstrated. ‘Not so big that they’re weapons of smotheration in bed.’

  She laughed.

  ‘Sit up here so that I have proper access.’ He shifted and tugged her so that she straddled him on her knees while he leaned back against the sofa. ‘Perfect.’

  It really was. She trailed her hands from the bottom of his rib cage, up over his chest, along his throat and into his hair. She massaged his scalp and he muttered something about heaven. It was hard to be clear since he had a mouthful of breast at the time.

  When they went inside, out of the light and to the comfort of a bed, the loving was just as slow, gently teasing and full of delight. Somehow Cassie wasn’t surprised that Theo fell asleep with a hand over her breast. She smiled. Feeling treasured was a precious gift.

  She lay there, sleepily listening to their mingled breathing and the distant shush of the sea. Tomorrow she’d go with him to Melbourne. It wouldn’t be like this. He’d need his family and they’d need him. His work would demand his time and attention, and she had to find her own path. To nurse or not to nurse? But questions and worries could, would have to wait. Her tired, happy brain couldn’t focus on them.

  And in the morning, Theo woke her in the best of all possible ways.

  ‘Better than coffee,’ she murmured, rolling over and cuddling the pillow when he got out of bed. The view of him walking to the en suite was pretty good, too. She enjoyed it till he disappeared, then reluctantly released the pillow and sat up. A satisfying stretch reminded her of well-worked muscles.

  She grinned, and as the shower turned on, wandered off to her room to shower, dress, pack and generally get the show on the road.

  Her hair was still wet when they stopped at the café for coffee and pastries.

  Maureen shouted over the noise of the espresso machine. ‘You off then?’

  Cassie blinked. ‘How did you guess?’

  ‘Theo said yesterday,’ Maureen reminded her, and rolled her eyes at Theo as he stood behind Cassie.

  But yesterday Cassie hadn’t thought she’d be going with him. Now she was. She could feel the goofy smile spreading over her face.

  Maureen shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t see me so excited about flying. I hate planes. Sardine cans just waiting to crash to earth. Splat!’

  ‘Thanks for that, Maureen.’

  The woman handed her the two coffees. ‘You’ll be fine.’

  In the car, Cassie laughed. ‘Good thing we’re not afraid of flying.’

  ‘Statistically, we’re at more risk on the road.’

  She blew a raspberry at the notion of statistical truth, waved to Sergeant Forrest as he passed in the police 4WD and settled back to drink her coffee and eat two of the chocolate croissants. Absentmindedly, she ate three.

  They arrived in the city late morning. A slow-moving, over-sized truck had held them to a crawl on the highway. It meant they cut things fine in terms of turning in the rental car and catching their plane. Theo walked a fraction faster than usual, but that was the only sign of pressure. He hadn’t drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, complained, hurried her when she was already hurrying; none of the things other guys did when they got stressed.

  She settled beside him in the plane — business class, she didn’t even try to argue — reminded yet again of his self-control. It seemed effortless, genuinely a part of him. ‘You don’t sweat the small stuff, do you?’

  He looked at her as the steward started the safety spiel. ‘Are you nervous about flying? Did Maureen get to you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Never mind.’

  There was that extended moment of pressure and ears popping as the plane ascended before its climb levelled out. Cassie ate a delicious chicken Caesar salad, enjoyed a sparkling water and refused dessert. Those three chocolate croissants were sufficient.

  This time when she snuggled down for a nap, the intimacy of sleeping beside Theo was real rather than a tantalising tease of something she’d never have. She watched him flick through messages on his phone.

  She’d called her dad on the drive up to Perth, letting him know that they’d contacted Sergeant Forrest and Leighton would be charged with fraud, that Aunt Gabby was devastated to learn her son was a gambler, and that she, Cassie, was on her way back to Melbourne. ‘I’ll be staying with Theo.’

  ‘As a friend or something more?’ Mick could be blunt even when he used euphemisms.

  ‘Something more.’

  ‘Can he hear me?’ Since Mick knew she was in the car with Theo and Mick always shouted on the phone, the answer was yes.

  Still, Theo said it. ‘Yes.’

  Her dad laughed. ‘Take care of my girl.’

  A good conversation, despite the sadness around Leighton. Cassie smiled as she closed her eyes.

  She wouldn’t say she slept. She was aware when Theo switched off his phone and turned to study her. She looked a sleepy question at him.

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ he said. ‘Except Mum and Dad are going to meet us at the airport.’

  That woke her up. It was one thing to know that Louise was matchmaking — a scary thought in itself — but Theo’s parents wouldn’t want her there for a potentially emotional discussion with their son.

  ‘I could take a taxi to your house.’

  ‘Or you could be a big girl and not try to duck an emotional scene.’

  She sat up. ‘I was being thoughtful.’

  ‘Mum’s invited you. She’s making Sunday dinner.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Don’t worry, it won’t be embarrassingly
emotional.’

  ***

  As they entered the airport lounge, Louise ran up to Theo and hugged him tight before bursting into loud tears.

  Cassie wasn’t embarrassed. She liked that Theo wasn’t either.

  His tall body curved so he could speak quietly to his mum, something that had her nodding and sniffing and finally drawing back.

  Gordon was ready with a big white handkerchief.

  Theo hugged his dad while Louise used the handkerchief. Gordon’s relief was obvious.

  Fortunately, this time there were no photographers and no one rude enough to snap a covert photo with their phone.

  ‘I’m so glad you brought him home.’ Louise stuffed the hankie into her handbag and hugged Cassie. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Theo loves you. He brought himself home.’

  ‘You were with him.’ Louise hugged her tighter.

  ‘Mum, you’re strangling her.’

  ‘I am not.’ Louise let her go to defend herself. ‘I was hugging her shoulders. You can’t strangle shoulders.’

  Gordon looked a question at Cassie. ‘Do you think I’m a fool? Can I have a hug?’

  She hugged him. Unlike his wife, he didn’t cry or talk, but the welcome felt genuine.

  ‘All right.’ Gordon stepped back. ‘There’s octopus stew in the slow cooker at home. Let’s get moving.’

  Octopus stew?

  ‘Seafood chowder,’ Theo said. ‘Greek style.’

  Evidently her apprehension had shown. ‘Sounds good,’ she said cautiously.

  It was, actually.

  The Morrigan family home proved to be one of Toorak’s famous late nineteenth century mansions. The family had clung onto the land around it, resisting the temptation to subdivide, so there was a sense of space and calm. Except when Gordon started talking. He was volatile.

  They ate in the dining room off the kitchen; not the formal dining room, Cassie was given to understand. This was where the family ate and it was bright with pale apple-green walls, white-framed family photos and faded terracotta tiles that led to the kitchen that matched the feeling of casual charm with its white, vaguely colonial cupboards, lace curtains and abundant food preparation equipment. The stove was massive.

  Three days ago, she couldn’t have imagined it, but for a non-controversial subject, they discussed her cousin Leighton and his activities. After the real drama of discovering Theo’s parentage, Leighton’s lies were back in proportion. The ironic thing was that the media were apparently loving the story of her and Theo’s relationship: a story that was now spine-tinglingly real.

  Theo grinned at her. ‘I told you everyone loves a romance.’

  Louise stopped ladling out second helpings of the octopus stew to slap his hand.

  ‘Ow!’

  ‘You know the rule in this house.’

  Theo and Gordon chorused it. ‘There are no I-told-you-so’s among family.’

  ‘Nothing more annoying than smugness.’ But Louise gave Theo an extra scoop of stew.

  Afterwards, everyone except Gordon helped clear the table. Louise explained his absence. ‘This is the time he used to have a glass of port. The doctors said he should cut it out, so he walks once around the yard instead. Thank you for your help.’ She finished cleaning the slow cooker and dried her hands.

  Theo stood near the humming dishwasher.

  ‘Excuse me a moment.’ Louise vanished.

  Theo pulled Cassie into his arms.

  She rested comfortably against him. ‘I like your parents.’

  ‘They like you.’

  She’d kind of gathered that, but it was nice to hear it. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and he responded enthusiastically.

  ‘Canoodle in your own kitchen.’ Gordon was back.

  So was Louise, standing there quietly with a box in her hands, beaming at them.

  It was that happy, hopeful beam that had Cassie exiting Theo’s arms, fast. ‘Um.’

  Louise lifted the shoebox. ‘These are photos and clippings of Dave, Theo’s father.’

  Chapter Ten

  They took mugs of tea and hot chocolate with them into the dining room. Theo was tense, his eyes on the box, but trying not to show it.

  Cassie couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to know how her dad looked. She sat beside Gordon at the table with Theo and his mum opposite. The whole situation was so fraught. How did Gordon feel watching his son discover another father, remembering the man his wife had, in some sense, loved?

  Louise’s feelings were there in the gentle way she opened the box and laid the lid aside.

  ‘Learn everything you can about your father, Theo,’ Gordon said into the tense, waiting silence. ‘I’m a jealous, proud, sometimes stupid man, but I don’t want you to be left with questions or to be torn. I remember Dave. You deserve to know that he was a good man.’

  Louise stretched her arm across the table and clasped her husband’s. ‘Thanks, love.’

  Theo nodded his gratitude.

  And then Louise passed him a photo of Dave Mawson.

  Theo froze, his eyes on the small photo.

  Cassie had to grip the edge of her chair to stay in her seat. What was Theo seeing that had him so shocked and absorbed?

  ‘That’s the clearest photo of Dave.’ Louise leaned her shoulder against his. Mother and son, heads bent over a shared past. ‘He had some publicity shots, some stuff in the newspaper. But that was down at St Kilda; he was gazing out to sea and I took the photo.’

  ‘He looks like me.’

  Cassie couldn’t stop herself. She was up and around the table, leaning in. Her breath caught.

  Dave Mawson wasn’t his son. His face was different, recognisably related, but longer, younger. He was maybe twenty-five in the photo, but probably younger. What was the same was the set of their shoulders, broad shoulders, strong and confident; the tilt of their heads and the shape of their ears; but most of all, their expression.

  ‘You look like that.’ Cassie put a hand on Theo’s back. ‘When you’re thinking, you seem to see deeper.’

  ‘See further,’ Louise said. She brought out other photos. ‘I used to call it his “beyond the horizon” stare. I knew he’d never settle, never stay in one place. He grew up in foster care with no idea of who his parents were.’

  Theo jerked. ‘Nothing?’

  ‘We can investigate,’ Gordon said. ‘Hire a detective.’

  ‘But Dave knew nothing of his parents. He grew up in Ballarat. I’m sorry, Theo. That’s all I know. All Dave ever said.’ She smiled, her eyes on the photos before them. ‘He talked about the future, instead. Not his future: everyone’s. He really believed the world could be a better place.’

  They finished looking at the photos. Gordon came around to their side of the table, too, and he remembered some of the people in the old snaps. It had to be a deliberate ploy, but his stories lightened the moment.

  Finally they stood, exchanging hugs, Theo holding the box of photos that he’d have copied. ‘Thanks, Mum. Dad. Where’s Dad?’

  ‘He’s gone to get…’ Louise paused. ‘I have one final memory of Dave and we didn’t think you’d have a cassette player.’

  The implications hit Cassie like a punch to the gut. And if the emotional impact was that much for her, it was a wonder Theo still stood.

  He had to clear his throat. ‘You have a copy of Dave’s songs?’

  ‘Just one. Just his favourite. He called it “Dreaming on the Way”. We realised we don’t have a cassette player either, but Gordon’s old Ford does.’

  ‘The keys.’ Gordon dropped them in his son’s hand. ‘I told you that car was a classic.’

  It was clearly an old friendly-family argument, but no one laughed.

  ‘Go on.’ Louise nudged Theo. ‘Go home and listen to your father.’

  ***

  Theo drove down to St Kilda beach. He was glad Cassie didn’t even bother to ask if he wanted to be alone. He wanted her with him when he heard his father’s voice for the
first time.

  Unfamiliar emotion sat heavy in his chest. He switched off the engine and headlights, and they both wound down the windows. The sound of the waves came softly, and moonlight shimmered on them. He put in the cassette tape, remembering how his dad had played old tapes for years, refusing to update to CDs before finally giving in.

  The tape made a static noise before clearing. There were a couple of soft taps and then the sound of a guitar.

  A lone guitar, played reflectively, the guitarist taking his time before…

  Cassie gripped his knee.

  Theo closed his eyes for a second, drawing a deep silent breath as his father’s voice filled the night.

  ‘Circling highways bring me…star maps overhead…’ Dave sang of searching, but it was a song of hope, not loss. The whole world was open before him and he loved its mysteries. A simple song sung by a young man in love with life.

  ‘He shouldn’t have died,’ Theo said. He rewound the tape.

  They listened to “Dreaming on the Way” three times.

  Cassie turned to face him, the seats making it awkward to be close. She put a hand along the side of his face, touching him, bringing him back, and making sure he heard her.

  He definitely heard her.

  ‘Dave would think you were life’s most wonderful mystery. His gorgeous son.’

  He kissed the palm of her hand, moved beyond words.

  ‘Take me home, Theo. Come to bed.’

  ***

  Cassie hadn’t known what to expect. Dave Mawson could have been an idealistic dreamer, an amateur musician in every sense, but the voice on the tape had been strong and true, and reached across time with its raw, aching honesty.

  Young as he was, Dave had understood loneliness, but had moved through it. He’d believed and lived as if there were something more; a triumph of hope over what must have been a difficult childhood.

  Her heart hurt for the tragedy of his early death and the poignancy of Theo listening to the father he’d never meet.

  Theo played the song one final time on the short drive home. There were no words, but she had her body to tell Theo, show him, that he wasn’t alone. They made love with a slow intensity that wasn’t about playing or pleasing each other. She had never felt more vulnerable or open to another person: naked emotionally as well as physically. Anything else was unthinkable when he came to her just as defenceless.