by Hill, Joanne
He pulled it from his pocket, rolled his eyes and took the call. Without apology, she noted, but then she’d take a call at the drop of a hat if she thought it were important.
“Jack,” he said, and she nearly choked on her patty.
Ethan nodded, put a forkful of eggs in his mouth, chewed, and chased it down with coffee, without uttering a word. Despite the speed with which he did it, there was a surprising grace to his movements. Barry was a noisy eater. It drove her mad – but then she’d never expected to have to spend her life listening to it.
Not that she was expecting to spend a life listening to Ethan—
Stop.
“Hold on.” Ethan frowned at no one. “Look, Jack, mate, it’s going to be okay. Tell Robyn we’re all okay. I’m here with Sage and—”
He stopped, looked straight at Sage, his eyebrows knit together. Then he shut his eyes. “Jeez, Jack, we’re having breakfast.”
He opened his eyes, relaxed a little, took another sip. “Down the road. Or up the road. A place called The Beach House. Mrs Parker’s at home, keeping an eye on your offspring.”
He winced, and held the phone away from his ear.
Sage could hear Jack yelling.
Ethan said, “Calm down, man. She’s making them pancakes or something.”
He was silent a moment, then nodded. “Gotcha. And tell Rob to chill, will you? Worry is ageing her as we speak. Go and have sex. Later.”
He ended the call, set the phone on the table and resumed eating.
Sage stared at him.
He reached for another piece of toast.
“You,” she said finally, “are incredible.”
He sighed, and spread butter on the toast.
She waited for him to ask “in what way am I incredible?” but he continued to spread the butter, and then examined the condiment packets one by one.
Finally, he selected honey.
“What,” she said, about to burst with frustration, “was that sex comment all about? They’re over there on business for Robyn’s designs. They’re not on a honeymoon.”
Ethan ripped open the honey packet and dug his knife into it. “Turns out the woman they were meeting was on the same plane.” He lathered honey over the toast. “The meeting was conducted in first class. Robyn’s got the contract. They’re free until they fly back tomorrow night, so they’re going to celebrate.” He munched on the toast, gave a contented grunt of approval. “And as for the sex thing, what else do you expect newlyweds to do?”
“But it’s so—so personal,” she said. “Even I wouldn’t talk to Robyn about sex.” Although if it related to health issues, they would.
“Hey,” he said. “I was not talking to him about sex.”
“Really,” she remarked.
“Sage.” He lay down his toast. “It’s not as if I suggested they film it so we could watch later.”
She almost gagged.
“I saw that,” he said, “and I’m with you all the way. Look, I figure they’re out of town, she’s missing the kids. Have some fun, is all I suggested. Plus Robyn’s worried about you and I looking after the children.” He scratched his chin. “Though I’m not sure saying Mrs Parker was around was such a great idea. Besides the fact she was crook this morning, Jack reckons she’s older than she makes out, and in hindsight it makes it sound like we’re planning to skip off to—” He stopped abruptly, resembling a possum caught in headlights.
“To what?” Sage pressed.
He moved his hand between him and her. “To do our thing.” He rubbed his hand over his chin warily. “Jack came out and asked if we were on a date.”
“Jack did not say that,” she protested. “He wouldn’t think that. You are making that up to torment me.”
“I’m just saying it like it is. He’s putting two and two together and he’s coming up with crazy.”
Her phone vibrated. “Well, he might, but I know for a fact Robyn sure as heck wouldn’t because she knows me. She knows my type and how I like to spend my time. This’ll be Harry. I hope she’s alright and that she found all the painkillers. I think I’ve got a stash of them—”
She frowned at the text message. It was Robyn.
She read it, and her stomach swiftly plummeted.
Are you and Ethan on a date?
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Ethan grinned at the look on her face, picked up his knife and began to spread butter over his last piece of toast. “Told you,” he said.
“We have just got to get the idea that we are dating out of their minds.” Sage bit her nails as Ethan drove through the gates and pulled up outside Jack and Robyn’s house. “I fail to see how it is that two people having breakfast together can possibly lead anyone to the conclusion that they are on a date.”
Ethan glanced sideways at her. “Oh, really?”
She climbed out of his truck and slammed the door shut with all her might. It sounded like a dull thud. She walked around to meet him as he activated the alarm.
“Yes, really,” she said. “Two single people going out for a meal, and a terribly unromantic meal by the way, is nowhere near a date.”
“Why is breakfast unromantic?” He arched his eyebrows at her.
She sighed. “It’s unromantic because it’s not wine and dim lighting that doesn’t show up all your—” She stopped before she said ‘faults’. “There’s no candlelight,” she said. “Breakfast is basic. Some people claim, and I disagree on this, but some people claim it’s the most important meal of the day, and how can there be anything romantic about that? It’s a practical meal.”
“So,” Ethan said slowly, as if it required great thought, “what you are in effect telling me is that any couple who are seeing each other illicitly should stick to breakfast so that no one would think they were having an affair?”
She looked disbelievingly at him. “I did not say that.”
“I think you did.”
She shook her head in exasperation. “Well, if I did, I didn’t mean it like that because that’s just wrong.”
She noticed he was now staring at her with a confused look on his face.
“What now?” she sighed.
“Hold the phone.” He narrowed his gaze. “A second ago, you said you were single. Did I hear that right?”
“Yes. Of course I am.” She began to walk across the paving towards the front entrance.
“But you’re seeing Bazza?” Ethan said behind her.
She froze. Of course she was seeing Barry. What had she been thinking?
“Just a Freudian slip, huh?” Ethan mused.
She thought fast. “Barry,” she corrected, “is my boyfriend. But we are not engaged so I consider myself to be a single woman and he is a single man.”
“You call him your boyfriend.” He emphasized the boy.
“Of course I did,” she said. “What would you call him?
“I don’t think you can call the boy—man,” he amended smoothly, “that you are dating, a boyfriend if you’re both over twenty. Oh wait. How old is Baz again?”
She ignored that last bit. “That is an issue for those couples in a serious, committed, heading-towards-the-altar relationship.”
At the front door, Ethan entered a number into the keypad. “You sure that’s not you two? He seemed pretty cozy with you the other day.”
“We’re not about to get married,” Sage reiterated.
“That might be the situation now.” Ethan entered the last digit. “But you and I, Sage?”
The door opened, and he turned to face her. Somehow the scent of him seemed to wash over her, to flow over her, in a way it hadn’t when they’d been cooped up in his cab. Although cooped wasn’t quite the right word, considering it was huge.
“You and me, we’ve been around the block a time or two,” he said. “And we both know that once emotion gets in the way, once you both figure that you’re crazy as hell about each other and you can’t live without each other, then you’ll be thinking
about what to wear down the aisle of that historic church you’ve probably secretly got a hankering to get married in. Barry’s probably thinking that. He’s clearly got a real thing for you, and in case you didn’t know it, there are men who want nothing more than to settle down and celebrate the big day with some over-the-top wedding and a booze-up. You think women go nuts over getting married? Guys can be worse.”
Sage felt an uncomfortable blush slide over her face as they stepped inside. Ethan McGraw was crazy. She had never considered marrying Barry and she was pretty darned sure he had never considered marrying her.
Or had he? She’d have to think about this later. Maybe when the cricket was on and Ethan was safely involved in porkers or Yorkers or whatever it was they did. Though what if Ethan was right? What if Barry was about to propose to her? What if he was saving up his tips from the jar on the counter at Wise Weta to buy her a ring?
She took a very deep breath to centre herself, and said, “Let’s just end this talk about Barry. It’s not right to talk about him like this with you.”
“And why’s that, Sage?” Ethan pressed as they followed the sound of TV and voices and made their way to the family room.
She glanced at him, and he looked at her, and some weird spark ignited in her brain.
“No reason,” she mumbled, flustered.
She latched onto the sight of Ruby, James and Eric like a lifeline. They were spread out across the floor, engrossed in TV while Mrs Parker lay sprawled on the couch, her reading glasses balanced on her nose, her moccasin slippers on the floor, her gaze glued to her tablet.
“I heard you two arguing from down the road,” she remarked, not moving an inch.
Sage waved at the boys and Ruby, and said, “Well, if you knew we were going to argue, why did you send us out for breakfast?”
“So you’d get it out of your system.”
“Get what out of my system?”
“All that tension. Figured you’d argue the ears off each other at the café, and by the time you got back here, you wouldn’t be talking to each other and it would be peaceful for the remainder of the day.” Finally, she glanced up. “Guess I was wrong about that.”
Sage rolled her eyes and Ethan said, “You’re one smart woman, Mrs P, but Sage and I, we weren’t arguing.”
“Then what do you call that racket when you came in just now?”
“I was discussing some personal issues with Sage, who unfortunately for us all chose to respond in an anti-social manner.”
“Oh, for the love of—” Sage began, but Mrs Parker cut her off.
“No blasphemy around me, I’ll thank you very much. If there’s one thing my years in the Roman Catholic Church instilled in me, it’s that it is completely unacceptable whoever you are and whatever situation you may find yourself in, to go around taking the name of the Lord Jehovah in vain. I might add that my three years with the Methodists and close to a decade as a loyal Baptist did not instill in me an opposing point of view.” With a grunt, she got to her feet. “I’ll just go and clean up the kitchen from the pancakes.”
“You don’t need to do that,” Sage said. “I’ll take care of it.” She needed to do something. Ethan’s cricket was a long way off. A very long way off, she groaned, checking her watch. She frowned, and then tapped it. Surely time had actually stopped.
Mrs Parker waved away her offer as she stepped into her slippers. “I’ll get it. You go and do what you were planning to do. I’m planning soup for lunch. Maybe a batch of date scones as well. Or a nice cheese scone. That would be perfect with the soup.”
“Sounds great,” Ethan said rubbing his stomach.
“It does, Mrs Parker,” Sage agreed, “but I was going to sort out lunch.” She’d been looking forward to it. Jack’s kitchen was the kind with top notch whiteware and appliances, and she rather fancied the idea of spending a few hours in there, just pottering around and feeling like she was a TV chef. As long as she didn’t pretend-talk to the camera and make out Gordon Ramsay was ‘advising’ her, or Nigella was swooning over her culinary creation, she’d be okay.
“No,” Mrs Parker said firmly. “You go and read a book or something. I’ve got the food covered.”
“Sure. Okay. What time were you thinking of going home?” Sage asked suspiciously.
“After dinner.” She began to walk out of the room. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning to prepare breakfast.”
“But what about Mr P?” Ethan said
Mrs Parker stopped dead in her tracks, and slowly turned back to face him. She was silent as her gaze narrowed. “We don’t talk about him.”
As soon as Mrs Parker was busy loading the dishwasher in the kitchen, with the radio on a talkback station – alarmingly loud, Ethan winced – he went over to Sage, who was sitting stiffly on the couch watching Dora the Explorer. He knew it was Dora, because Ruby was giving a commentary every minute.
Ruby sat on a purple beanbag; the boys had gone up to their bedrooms to do heaven knew what.
He supposed he should check on them, even though they’d said they were going to build a castle and a fort out of Lego, and he figured that would take a while. But he had a burning question about Mrs Parker.
“What’s the deal with her old man?” he asked Sage.
“I don’t know.” She gave him a brief glance. “You know her better than me.”
“Marginally.” He sat down on the couch next to her.
She stiffened more. “What are you doing?”
He leant back, with one arm resting along the back of the couch. “I’m watching the TV. Like you.”
“I love Dora,” Ruby called out, without looking around.
Ethan stared at the screen. “Pretty sure I saw this exact same episode when I was here once before.”
“They play them over and over again,” Ruby said.
He felt his head begin to explode, and turned back to Sage.
“Do you think there actually is a Mr P?” he quizzed.
“Oh, there is. I haven’t met him, and neither has Robyn. Jack might have, though.”
“Where does she live?”
Sage shook her head. “I don’t know. She doesn’t drive so she always comes by taxi – she must live nearby, or she’d be using all her wages up in travel. Why don’t you go and ask her yourself?”
He shuddered. “I’m scared of her.”
She gave a sharp laugh. “I can’t imagine you’re scared of anything.”
He didn’t agree. It would have been a lie, when he was scared of those awkward, inconvenient, completely illogical feelings he had for her.
But she didn’t know that. Didn’t ever need to know. Just keep it cool, McGraw. That’s all you need to do. He let his body ease a fraction and relaxed into it.
Sage moved suddenly, and he stiffened. Her hair brushed against the back of his bare arm. She leant forward and said something to Ruby. Ruby laughed, Sage sat back, and slowly, Ethan moved his hand so her hair brushed over it again.
It was so soft. It was so tempting to do more than have it flit across his arm. He moved slightly until he grasped some tendrils between his finger and thumb, and just held them loosely.
She moved, and he tensed, but there was enough length in her hair that it didn’t pull.
Stop it.
Just stop it before she realizes what the hell is going on and then she’ll find out what you’re scared of.
He dropped his hand as the Dora credits rolled and another episode began.
Pain began to form in his skull. He’d seen enough.
“We need a plan,” he said. “On what we’re going to do until Robyn and Jack get back.”
Sage sighed. “I know. I’m barely hanging in here but Ruby loves this show. A plan. We need a plan.”
Ethan removed his arm altogether from the back of his couch, and pulled out his phone. “We can go to the zoo, the museum. Go down to the waterfront. Maybe we can drag Mrs P over to her place and meet Mr P.”
“I want to go to my o
ld house.” Ruby leapt suddenly to her feet, Dora forgotten.
Ethan googled things to do in Auckland with bored kids and said, “Yeah, about that old house Ruby? It’s all different now. You won’t recognize it.”
“I want to see my old room,” Ruby wailed. “I want my old room.”
She stood in front of them, her bottom lip protruding magnificently.
“How does she even remember her old room?” Ethan muttered to Sage. “It’s been months since she lived there. Aren’t kids meant to forget everything, now she’s got an architecturally-designed mansion to live in with sea views and a zillion dollar price tag?”
“She’s not two, Ethan. Of course she remembers her old room.” Sage pressed her lips together thoughtfully. “I’m a bit worried about Harry, to be honest. I know she’s not a little kid, but she’s home on her own and she’s feeling bad.”
Ethan checked the time on his phone. Sheesh. It wasn’t even noon. “I’m going to tell James we’re going to our old house,” Ruby announced, leaping up.
“But we’re not.” Ethan was a whisker off yelling.
Ruby ran out of the room, screaming, “Jamie, we’re going to see our old house. We’re going to our old house.”
Sage got to her feet, aimed the remote at the TV, and said, “I guess we are now.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Sage got through to Harry, who said she hadn’t found any painkiller stash, just two, and she’d taken them and would love some more, and maybe chicken soup, even though Sage had never made chicken soup in her life and wasn’t likely to. Mrs Parker had already begun lunch, and they ate cheese scones and pumpkin soup up at the breakfast bar, with Eric and James kicking their feet against the panels in a monotonous cacophony as everyone tried to guess what song they were ‘playing’.
Well before midday, they were ready to go.
“So what will you do, Mrs P?” Ethan asked as Sage buckled the children into the truck.
“I’ll be up the front with you. I see there’s room.”
He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes. Of course she was coming with them. He nodded at no one in particular. Of course.