“No,” I whispered and then cleared my throat. “I’ll even drink from the same bottle as you as proof.”
The corners of his mouth twitched into an almost-smile before he turned to face me, but his expression became serious when his eyes roved down to my mouth, my neck, and to my wet K-Mart bra and back up to my mouth again. Brazenly I drifted in closer still, Byron’s warm breath against my skin making me shiver.
“We’d better eat the picnic before the ants do, Ruby,” he said in a gravelly voice, his breath ragged. He was so close his lips grazed my hair, sending a tremor down my spine. It was lucky the rocky ledge was there, so that I didn’t slip beneath the surface and drown from all this swooning.
After we dressed, first Byron, then me, each of us promising to shut our eyes, we sat down with the picnic between us.
Byron seized the drink first, grinning the whole time. He twisted off the cap and took a long drag, his head tilted back so that the sun peeking through the tree branches shone against his damp hair and through the sparkling red liquid in the bottle.
“Do you know why I chose red creaming soda?” he asked after he swallowed. His wet lips were tinged crimson from the drink; and because I was so distracted by them, I forgot about his question. So he answered anyway. “Because your hair is ruby red, not ginger like Martin thinks.”
“Oh.” I glanced down at the apples he’d brought, anything to take the focus off my hair.
“They’re out of season, you know.” My eyes gestured to the pale pink fruit. He tossed the bottle at me before he stared down at the apples which were now beaded with moisture—most likely from the deep freeze they’d been put in to keep them in a faux-fresh state.
I took the bottle, very conscious that his hands and mouth had caressed it.
“Are you calling me a dumb city-slicker?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Maybe,” I said before putting my lips to the bottle and tossing my head back. The sugary drink fizzed against my mouth and dribbled down my chin and neck. Then I choked and spluttered drink all over the towel. So much for being sexy.
Byron smiled as I wiped my chin with the back of my hand, and then he lay down on his side, his long, jean clad legs stretched out over the rocks.
I remained crossed legged and picked up a sandwich, sinking my teeth into the soft white bread so that I had time to think up something decent to say. Almost every question that hung on my lips was about his past, his parents, the scars, but these were forbidden.
“So, how long are you actually here for?” I asked before taking another bite of the ham and lettuce sandwich. He’d used real butter, not margarine. I was impressed.
A shadow passed overhead and we both looked up.
Clouds? I hadn’t seen any for so long I almost doubted they were real.
A breeze drifted across my shoulders and I shivered in delight. It was the first cool breeze since the heatwave. Was the weather finally changing? Was the early, freak summer storm the news reporters kept harping on about finally coming?
“I’m not here long,” he said, with a deep sigh before rolling onto his back with his hands behind his head. The rock he was on peaked slightly in the middle so that Byron’s hips were raised. His shirt peeled back to reveal his flat stomach. He was so lean. Martin almost seemed chubby by comparison.
“That looks uncomfortable,” I said, trying to drag my eyes away, and hoping to hide my disappointment at hearing he wasn’t staying here, in Donny Vale, for long.
“It is.” He groaned, sat up, and rubbed his back.
“Are you moving on to another town already? Or heading back home?”
He smiled sadly and looked out across the river. His eyes reminded me of the way they’d looked when he’d mentioned travelling to Europe.
“I’m just going. I don’t really know where. Definitely not back home.”
“Why don’t you just stay here, in Donny Vale? Everybody loved you at your gig, even more than they love the Tom Jones impersonator.”
He settled back onto his side and reached for an apple, a cute grin on his lips.
“Wow. Tom Jones impersonator? I’m flattered, really.”
I giggled, but stopped when I saw Byron’s face darken. His grip on the apple intensified.
“Seriously, I’d like to stay.”
I swallowed thickly, my heart beating a million miles a minute. “Then stay.”
He looked at me like I was asking for the impossible, the unrealistic, then he knelt and searched the ground until he found a flat rock the size of a fifty cent piece. At the water’s edge he tossed the stone, the apple wedged between his teeth. The stone skipped the surface four times.
I watched him, hugging my knees to my chest. Byron’s words ‘not long’ left me feeling cold inside. What was he doing here, picnicking with me if he was leaving so soon? What was the point of all this?
Byron sat back down and took a humungous bite out of the apple. “Mmmm last year’s apple. You should try it, Ruby.” He offered it to me and I took a bite beside his. Mine was tiny in comparison. It made me feel all feminine and small. Maybe I didn’t have a Milton Mouth after all.
I chewed. The fruit tasted half-decent, sweet even.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Byron asked between more bites of the apple, his eyes fixed on mine. The way his jaw moved up and down, and the way he licked his lips occasionally, was completely distracting and doing things to my lower belly.
“Okay.” I gathered my hair away from my face and stared him straight in the eye. “I have a dad, named Jeremy. My mum, Portia, had an affair with our neighbour Derek, who I was talking to last night, and then she slashed her wrists in my parents’ bedroom, on their bed…and died. She left me and Jay and Dad alone.” There, I’d said it. By the time I finished I was shaking and breathless and couldn’t meet Byron’s gaze.
He didn’t say anything for a long time. A distant shriek, followed by laughter, drifted from further down the river where others swam.
“I’m sorry,” he said in a low, quiet voice. “You must miss her.”
I sighed. “Sometimes I do. But most of the time I just hate her for doing it, for giving up on life.” I plucked out a handful of nearby weeds, tearing them to shreds. “She should have stuck it out and gotten help. Nothing could be so bad that you’d want to die.”
Byron was silent for a long time.
“She probably had her reasons.” He continued to stare out across the now steely grey surface of the water, his eyes dark and troubled.
“Reasons?” I shook my head, trying to supress the sudden rush of anger spreading through my brain.
Reasons?
I shook my head and got to my feet. Byron stared up at me in surprise.
“For your information, my mum chose death over life. How could there be any reason behind choosing to die? I would never abandon Jay like that.” I balled my towel up under my arm and started for the bushes, wanting to be alone with my rage.
Byron leapt to his feet. “Hey, wait, Ruby!”
I groaned and turned around.
“Maybe not everybody is as strong as you are,” he said, face flushed and nostrils flared, as if he was as angry as me. “Until you’ve walked in that other person’s shoes you can never know.”
I stared at him, not believing his audacity.
“Why are you getting all bent out of shape for, anyway? You only knew my mum for like five seconds.”
When he knelt down and started to stuff the remainder of our picnic lunch into the plastic bag, I was immediately sorry. The guy had scars, bad scars. His own fricken parents had probably cut him up. Who was I to question his opinions?
I reached for his towel and shook off the dirt before folding it up for him. “I’m sorry. Sometimes, I don’t know…I just get all mad inside when I talk about my mum.”
Byron shook his head. “No. I was being an insensitive jerk. I shouldn’t have said those things.” He took the towel and tucked it beneath his arm before offering a hand. �
�Thanks. Hey, does this mean we forgive each other…for whatever that was?”
I shook his hand, business-like, but I was smiling with relief. “Forgive and forget.”
“Good.” He smiled and let out a sigh before tugging me in closer.
My stomach fluttered with anticipation and a tiny bit of fear…or was it nerves? I was alone, in a secluded location with a very sexy and mysterious boy. And he looked as though he was about to kiss me.
Byron rested his hands on my hips, his touch turning my legs to jelly, and gazed down at me with serious eyes.
“Last thing I want to do is make anyone, especially you, unhappy, Ruby. Even though I can see that you already are.”
Feeling dizzy, I slid my own arms around his slim waist to steady myself. My heart drummed against my chest.
“I’m not unhappy now,” I said breathlessly.
One of Byron’s hands slid from my hip up to my face, making my entire body tingle. “I’m not unhappy right now either.” Though he smiled at first, his face darkened while he stroked my jaw gently with his thumb. “But I’m worried about later, Ruby.”
The darkness and depth to his blue eyes and the way he spoke gave me goose bumps. I shivered.
“Here.” Byron wrapped his towel around me and drew me into his arms.
I rested my head against his chest, careful to be gentle and not hurt him. We stayed like this, holding each other, until the sky turned completely overcast with angry clouds.
“I’d better be getting back,” I said, pulling out of his embrace even though I wanted to stay there forever. “Jay will wake up from his afternoon nap soon.”
Byron ran a hand through his still-damp hair.
“Okay, well, thanks for sharing my picnic.”
My eyes landed on the lone apple at the bottom of the plastic bag and a giggle escaped my lips. Byron smiled with me.
“Here,” he handed me the bag, his cheeks tinting pink, “a souvenir, something to remember me by.”
“Thanks.” Together we walked towards my non-existent track in the bushes. I slapped at my arms. The mosquitoes were out early today, probably because of the change in the weather. “So you really are leaving soon?” I asked, my words quivering.
“About a week…maybe less,” he said, casting one last look at the water as though he wanted to commit it to memory, before turning back to me. “Maybe longer,” he added with such intensity shining in his eyes that I had to look away. “Hey…um, would you like to go out and have dinner tonight?”
I stopped in my tracks.
“Dinner? Tonight?” My heart sank. “I can’t. I’ve got Jay and he’s been sick.” I couldn’t believe what came out of my mouth next. “But you can come to my house instead…if you like?” My heart thumped wildly in wait for his response.
He took ages to answer, during which a kookaburra laughed in the distance as though mocking me.
“Sure. Would you like me to bring anything?”
“No. Just bring yourself,” I called out before a scratchy branch swung back to hit me against the face.
Chapter 10
During the walk home, I thought a lot about the Martin dilemma. The only solution was to call him up and tell him what Byron had said about the ‘something in common’ thing. Hopefully Madeline had already spoken to him about it and everything was back to normal and we could pretend the kiss never happened. Only, I wasn’t yet ready to call him.
A truck loaded with cows, heading north, whooshed past me and sent a blast of shitty smelling air at me while I ran home, sending my hair flaring about my head. I held my breath and jogged a little until fresh air once again filled my nostrils.
Crows heckled at me from the apple trees that grew along the roadside, but I hardly noticed them. I was too busy anticipating dinner tonight, with Byron. I’d have to make sure Jay was okay, and Dad. Maybe I could even invite Mira too. What would I cook? Did we have any decent food in the house? I’d have to rush out and do some shopping. Maybe when Jay woke up from his afternoon nap we could go for a walk into town together. Hopefully he was well enough.
Before I knew it I was jogging up the gentle slope of my driveway. Derek was out the front, washing his blue Ford Falcon.
A prickly feeling at the back of my neck made me lift my head. Sure enough he was watching me. I fully prepared myself for him, should he throw down the hose and approach me about Mum’s letters again, but instead he just shook the hose a little, sending diamond-like sprinkles in the air. Some of the cool drops landed on my arms and I was so hot from the steamy, humid walk home that I wished he would have blasted me with the hose. Then, without even thinking too much about it, I raised a hand and offered a weak wave before scrambling through the front door and shutting it behind me with the full weight of my body.
Mira had gone home, leaving me with a reasonably normal looking family. Dad was rolling play-dough into a sausage shape while Jay looked on with wide eyes at this adept skill.
When Dad didn’t look up, I cleared my throat.
“You’re home, Rubes.”
“Yeah, I had a picnic…at my secret spot.”
“Hey, I couldn’t not give the boy directions after he’d gone to all that trouble making sandwiches for my girl.” He shrugged. “Seems like a nice kid. Sort of handsome if you like movie stars, or Greek gods…that sort of thing.”
I chewed on my bottom lip to stop from grinning. “He’s coming over for dinner tonight.”
Dad narrowed his gaze. “Is he the same boy you were speaking to late last night? In your bedroom?”
My cheeks burned.
“Look, I might have been sozzled, but my hearing was working just fine.” He laughed at my unease and then winced and held his head. “Dinner sounds good.” He raised a palm. “And I’ll be on my best behaviour.” He winced again. “Time for another coffee. God these next few days are going to hurt me, Rubes. The withdrawal’s killing me.”
“Good to hear,” I said, not hiding my happiness while I cuddled Jay to my chest. “So, looks like Mrs. Simich really cracked the whip around here.”
He frowned. “Hey, no cheek from you, missy. Mira is a good woman.”
“For a cougar.” I scratched at the air.
“Watch it,” Dad warned, but he was trying not to grin.
“Hey, why not invite her to dinner tonight?” I asked, secretly hoping that if Mira was around Dad wouldn’t do anything embarrassing.
He scratched the back of his head as if I’d just asked him to solve a particularly difficult mathematical equation. “All right, I suppose.”
“Well, you’d better go over and ask her or else it’ll be too late a notice.”
After making an entire play-dough family with a ‘not dead’ Mummy at Jay’s request, I managed to squeeze in a shower—cold water only, because anything else would be ridiculous—during which I lathered my hair up with vanilla shampoo, twice, in case any cow dung scent lingered, and in case Byron got close enough to smell it.
Dressed in an oversized t-shirt, with a towel wrapped around my head, I headed into the kitchen and leafed through the pages of my mother’s three cookbooks and then the few foodie magazines that had collected in the third drawer.
I decided on paprika chicken salad, something basic and fool proof. Maybe Dad and I could make it together.
But, while I was rummaging through the pantry looking for anything that looked remotely like paprika, Dad tapped me on the shoulder, scaring me into dropping a jar of spice onto the floor with a tinkling shatter.
I stared with hopelessness at the mess that spanned the entire kitchen floor. How did that much spice fit into one tiny jar?
“Mira sent me shopping today,” he said, ignoring the spice, in fact, stepping right into it with his bare feet to open the fridge door and draw out a Tupperware container with an electric blue lid. The cool air washed over my body. I shivered with delight.
“I’ve already marinated some lamb chops in rosemary and olive oil.” He shrugged. “Thought I’d
do ’em on the barbie.”
“Great.” I stared at him in shock. It was too soon for this type of normal behaviour. Now I worried that after having such a productive day he was going to slip up tonight while our guests were here.
“I’ll make us some coleslaw. Can’t have lamb chops without coleslaw.” After the words left my mouth—Mum’s words—I froze.
I swallowed and met Dad’s gaze.
His eyes widened slightly but he didn’t say a word, he just touched my chin feather-light and walked away.
Tentatively, I watched him, his shoulders stooping low, hoping that I hadn’t sent him backwards again. My stomach twisted into several knots. All I could do was hope that Mira would arrive soon and boost his spirits—of the non-alcoholic variety—up.
By six thirty, I’d set the table, chilled a fresh batch of iced tea, complete with lemon slices and shredded mint leaves, and fixed a green salad. Dad waited by the barbeque with the lamb, ready to go, tongs tapping at the hot plate in tune to the song blaring from the old radio he’d propped up on the windowsill. Jay’s wails of “Jay hungry noooooow!” every thirty seconds or so were starting to get to me so I threw together a quick Vegemite sandwich just before a loud knock came at the front door. Thankfully, his little exploding bottom had settled down during the afternoon. Hopefully it would stay that way. At least he was eating now.
Ten minutes ago I’d changed out of my stained t-shirt dress and slipped into my favourite grey-blue cargo shorts and my fitted white tank with three buttons at the top. Yesterday’s sunburn had mellowed into a mild glow and the white in my top set it off nicely so that I actually appeared tanned for someone with near-ghostly skin.
I checked in the oval hallway mirror that my hair, which was knotted up into a high bun for a change, was in place and wiped my sweaty palms against my shorts before opening the door.
There stood Mira with Byron’s towering form beside her. I flashed them both a huge smile and stepped back to allow them in.
“What’s that?” I asked, tugging at Byron’s shirt sleeve to prevent him from taking another step.
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