‘Wuss!’
And after that they didn’t speak. Nick was totally befuddled-and there was no need to talk, anyway. The path was hardly crowded-it went for ever all the way along the beachfront toward the city-and their speed matched exactly.
Their movements matched exactly. When Shanni slowed, Nick slowed with her, anticipating every movement. When she turned, he turned. When a dog lunged toward them off its lead they braked as one, waited until the dog shot across their path and then scooted on again, Harry squealing with delight.
Nick watched her out of the corner of his eyes. Her curls were flying, her eyes were dancing, she looked alive and vibrant and free.
And gorgeous!
And Harry… The little boy was lit up like a Christmas tree. He sat bolt upright in his chair, his eyes were wide with excitement and he crowed with joy. Every now and then he looked up and grinned, and Nick and Shanni grinned back down at him-and then grinned at each other as he returned to the serious business of navigation.
Which seemed to be a simple matter of crowing, ‘Faster, faster, faster,’ until Shanni flung back her head, her curls flying and she choked on a bubble of laughter and slowed…
‘Here, slave-driver. What did your last horse die of? I’m about to leave my legs behind me at this speed… Nick, okay, I concede, I concede. Slow down!’
They slowed-but not much. They left the beach and followed the bike-path until they reached the river, then slowed as the crowds thickened on the river-banks, but still they wove dexterously through. Still there were no words spoken. They knew what the other intended. It was like a sixth sense.
Or more like-a combining of senses. Of becoming one…
It was like a marriage. Both felt it-yet neither could say.
And then they were on the banks of the Yarra, approaching the wide expanse of the river-bank gardens. It was the most gorgeous day and Melbournites were making the most of it. There were couples and families and jugglers and ice-cream vendors and dogs on leads, and…
‘Enough,’ Shanni decreed. ‘This is where we stop-or I’ll die of exhaustion.’
So they stopped, and they sank onto the grass, removed their rollerblades, lifted Harry out of his pushchair, nestled him between them and settled in for a late lunch.
Hot dogs. Ice-creams. Soft drink and more soft drink-‘Because I’m so dehydrated I could drink a river,’ Shanni declared, and then they lay back with the sun warm on their faces and watched the rowers lazily stroking up and down the river.
Or rather, Shanni and Harry watched the rowers. Nick watched Shanni.
‘What?’ she demanded, catching him at his gazing as she gave the last of her chocolate ice-cream a reluctant farewell lick.
‘What do you mean, “what?”’
‘You’ve hardly said a word. You just watch me. Do I have ice-cream on my nose? Did my hot dog leave ketchup? What are you staring at?’
It was impossible to lie. ‘Just you,’ he told her, and the look in his eyes made her blush from the toes up. Dear heaven…
And silence fell again, but this time the silence was different.
They almost slept, only not quite. Because Harry was too excited and Shanni and Nick were too aware…
As the day wore on they rollerbladed through the Botanic Gardens, feeding the ducks, checking out every nook and cranny, feeling the oneness of themselves as a unit.
And in his pushchair Harry finally slept the sleep of the exhausted.
And the absolutely content.
As evening fell they pushed themselves home, back along the esplanade. Still there was so little to say to each other-but this was no awkward silence. It was as if they hardly knew where to start-as if there was a great well of untapped sharing that they were not brave enough to tap for fear of starting a flow that each was somehow fearful of.
The rollerblade hire place was locking up as they reached it. The owner smiled as he saw them come, not angry in the least.
‘Now, how did I know you’d be the last of my customers back?’ He beamed. ‘If I may say so, as I watched the three of you head off this morning it did my old heart good. “See,” I said to the wife, “there’s still love in the world.”’ He nudged his elderly wife and the two of them beamed with such goodwill that Nick nigh on blushed as crimson as Shanni.
‘When will your leg get better?’ the lady asked Harry, who, having just woken up, was lazily content to lie back and watch the world without fear. Normally a stranger talking to him would have made him shrivel. Not today.
‘The doctor says I might have to wear my cast until Christmas,’ Harry said. ‘But then it’ll be all better.’
‘You’re a lucky little boy.’ The lady smiled.
And so did Harry.
‘I know,’ he said proudly. ‘And Shanni’s going to sleep with us tonight.’
They left with Nick’s face burning, and Shanni in a bubble of laughter she couldn’t contain.
Then they ate-again!-in a restaurant overlooking the beach-and then…
‘What next?’ Harry demanded. He’d had a solid afternoon nap and was raring to go.
‘Nothing that requires legs.’ Shanni groaned. ‘I can’t feel my feet. They’ve gone walkabout. Or rollerbout. This afternoon my body forgot it was no longer a teenager, but it’s remembering now!’
Nick couldn’t agree more. He smiled at Shanni-at the pair of them-and he knew what would work.
‘Pictures, I think.’
‘Pictures?’ Harry frowned.
‘Have you ever been to the cinema?’
‘No.’
‘That settles it. Pictures.’
Which wasn’t as easy as it sounded. Nick’s local cinema catered for adults, and Shanni checked out its main offerings and shook her head.
‘No chance, Nick Daniels. “Mature audience” doesn’t mean three-year-olds.’
‘But that means there’s only…’
‘Yes.’ She grinned as they perused the advertisement board. ‘There’s a choice of exactly one. Or one hundred and one. 101 Dalmatians, to be precise.’
‘101 Dalmatians,’ Nick said faintly and Shanni chuckled and took his arm. Which felt weird, but very, very good.
‘Romance and comedy and dogs,’ she said. ‘What could be better? And fantasy to boot. It’s just what this weekend is all about.’
So Nick sat through a movie he’d never dreamed of seeing. As a child movies hadn’t been for the likes of Nick and, as an adult with his carefully acquired sophistication he’d have died rather than see such a show. But, to his amazement, he found himself chortling along with Shanni and Harry, and gasping as Harry did.
Then, as the dalmatians’ deadly peril grew closer and Harry abandoned his seat and clambered onto Nick’s knee, it was entirely natural that Shanni should move across to Harry’s seat to stay close-and it was also natural that Nick’s free arm should come around her shoulders so they could gasp together…
Happily, evil was conquered, and one hundred and one dalmatians were consigned to live happily ever after. And, as Harry, sleepy, sated, and totally content, was carried out into the foyer-it was also natural that Nick’s hand should hold Shanni’s…
‘Nick!’
The exclamation stopped them dead. It was a voice he knew only too well. Nick turned and there was Abe Barry, his head of chambers, heading straight for him. Rachel, Abe’s wife of thirty years, was right beside him, and both were smiling their pleasure. ‘Nick! What on earth are you doing in town?’ Abe demanded. ‘How are you, boy?’
‘I’m fine, thank you, sir.’ Nick adjusted Harry in his arms and extended his hand in greeting. It was pumped enthusiastically, but Abe’s eyes were on his companions.
‘This is Shanni McDonald, sir,’ Nick told him. ‘And Harry. They’re from Bay Beach.’
‘You’re settling in well, are you?’ Abe’s keen eyes missed nothing. His eyes darted from Harry to Shanni and back again. ‘Read about that bit of drama in the papers. Damned business. Thought you said n
othing would ever happen in Bay Beach.’
‘I don’t get to try the case.’
‘But otherwise…the job’s turning out well?’ His eyes were still questioning Shanni’s presence.
‘I…you could say that.’ What else was he supposed to say?
‘I’m very happy to hear it.’ Rachel tucked her arm into her husband’s. She inspected Shanni and smiled her pleasure. ‘Hello, Nicholas. This is the kindergarten teacher you were held hostage with, isn’t it? I saw your picture in the paper. What a dreadful experience. And…Harry, did you say? Is this your little one, dear?’
‘He’s ours for the weekend.’ Shanni smiled and her smile hugged Harry all by itself. ‘Aren’t we lucky?’
‘What film have you been to see?’ Abe asked, frowning. This jigsaw didn’t quite fit, and he wasn’t a man who took kindly to gaps. ‘Rachel dragged me along to see some fine-art film. Did you see that?’
‘No, sir. We saw 101 Dalmatians.’
‘101 Dalmatians…’ He stared, confused. This wasn’t the Nick he knew. ‘Have we seen that, Rachel?’
‘Yes, dear,’ she said placidly. ‘With the grandchildren last school holidays.’
‘Oh.’ The elderly man’s bushy eyebrows beetled down, astounded. ‘So we did.’ And Nick practically groaned. He could see this story being all around the lawcourts within the week.
But…
‘Don’t you worry, my dear, I won’t let him gossip,’ Rachel said conspiratorially, and started pressing her husband away. ‘Not yet, anyway. I can tell that things are too precious and too new to breathe about. All the best, my dears. Nick, I’m so excited for you. I’ve worried about you so dreadfully…’
And she led Abe off-speechless.
And so was Nick.
‘I…we should go home. It’s time for bed,’ Shanni said finally, fighting mounting colour. ‘I mean…’
Her colour rose higher.
‘I know what you mean,’ Nick managed. ‘And, yes, I entirely agree with you. It’s time to go home.’
There was no trouble getting Harry to sleep. No trouble at all! He hugged them both, put his head onto the pillow and was out like a light before Shanni and Nick could move from the bed.
And then what?
Nick didn’t know. This was unfamiliar territory.
Nick was so aware of Shanni’s body beside him he could hardly breathe, and he was so tense! Why, on earth? Shanni was just a woman. A country kindergarten teacher. There was no reason at all why every nerve in his body should be screaming its awareness of her.
But it was-and she seemed to sense it.
‘I’m tired too,’ she said, awkwardly, it seemed, and she stood on tiptoes and gently kissed him-lightly on the cheek, as one would kiss a friend. ‘I’m going to bed. Goodnight, Nick.’
And she took herself off to his spare room fast, leaving Nick with the overwhelming impression that she was escaping.
Which she was. There wasn’t much sleep where Shanni was going. Shanni lay in the unfamiliar bed and stared at the ceiling. She had absolutely no idea what was going on here. Or… Maybe she did and she was just running scared.
She knew nothing about this man, she told herself desperately. He was totally out of her ken.
She liked country boys-boys who had family, who liked kids, dogs, horses, country things. She had a very clear idea of where her life was going, and it didn’t include someone like Nick Daniels.
‘He wears designer suits,’ she whispered into the night.
But he wasn’t wearing one now.
She almost wished he was. It’d make it easier. She shouldn’t be so attracted.
Why not?
Because he was damaged goods! she told herself-and there was another puzzle. Why did he seem like that? She lay with her hands linked behind her head and tried to figure it out.
Damaged? Most women wouldn’t see it, she thought. They’d see the exterior. They’d see Nick’s almost breathtaking good looks. The wealth and position. His great smile and the sophisticated lifestyle…
They were all things that didn’t interest her in the least.
Or maybe… Maybe she was a liar. Maybe the smile was important. The way he let his guard down when she least expected it and the way he grinned down at Harry as if they were co-conspirators.
Which they were. Co-conspirators in pain, she thought, wondering just how different their backgrounds were. If they were the same, Nick would never let her close now. For Harry, aged three, there was time to heal, but a man in his thirties, who’d been taught the hard way never to let anyone close, was a different proposition entirely.
What was happening this weekend was miracle enough, she told herself fiercely, and she mustn’t expect more. If Nick could give a part of himself to help heal a child who needed him, that was all she should ask.
But there was a part of her that was screaming for more-demanding more. It wanted a part of him for herself. There was a part of Shanni that wanted Nick’s love, and it would be content with nothing less.
‘Which is just stupid,’ she said savagely into the night. ‘You’ll just break your heart down that road, Shanni McDonald, so you might as well forget about it. Right now!’
And Nick?
Just through the wall Nick’s thoughts were as jumbled as Shanni’s.
Some things, though, were crystal-clear. He knew exactly what his body was telling him. He wanted Shanni like a physical ache, and that ache was almost unbearable. He wanted her, and he wanted her, and he wanted her. All day he’d wanted her. Every time she brushed his arm-in the cinema his need had driven him nuts-every touch and every look and every faint scent of her was driving him to distraction.
But…she was a country girl. She’d have certain expectations he had no hope of meeting. What he wanted, he decided, was to make fierce, passionate love to her-to get this need out of his system.
But she wasn’t his normal type of woman. He knew instinctively that she wasn’t a girl who’d accept a one-night stand.
And afterwards, if he succeeded in making love to her and she felt committed, no matter how plain he made it that he wanted no ongoing commitment, he had to live in the same town as her for another two years. Her sister was his clerk of courts. Her brother was one of the policemen he worked with.
Like it or not, he was Bay Beach’s magistrate, and he knew that making casual love to Shanni would mess that up like nothing else could.
So seduction? No. Out of the question.
Which shouldn’t faze him, he told himself into the bleak darkness while Harry slept on contentedly beside him. There were women he’d been attracted to in the past who were unobtainable. He’d never found it a problem; he’d simply moved on to someone else who’d accepted him on his terms. Seducing country innocents wasn’t his style.
This nearness to Shanni was only for this night, he told himself. For one night he had to keep himself under control and then get on with life.
Move on to someone more suitable.
But… He wanted Shanni!
‘No!’
The scream spilt the night, terror knifing through every last corner of the apartment and Shanni’s feet were out of bed and onto the floor almost before she’d heard it. What…
‘No, no, no. Don’t hit me. Don’t…’
She was out of bed, diving through to the next-door bedroom with the speed of light, shoving open Nick’s door and flicking on the switch so she could see.
No one was hitting anyone. Of course not.
Nightmares!
Harry was sitting bolt upright in bed, his face ashen and his eyes staring at some invisible spectre as if it was the most fiendish apparition imaginable. Nick was with him-holding the boy tight but making no impression on the little one’s terror. He looked up as Shanni entered, and his face was almost as white as Harry’s.
‘He started struggling in his sleep. Sobbing. And now this… Dear God…’
‘No!’
The scream was heart-rending.
Harry’s terror was raw and real, and Shanni’s heart clenched in horror at what must have gone on in the past to cause this.
But this was now. There was no room for delving into the past. Nick’s attempts at comfort weren’t working. This fear had to be faced and worked through.
And this was no time for gentle soothing.
She crossed to the bed, sat down facing Harry and took his rigid little hands in hers, forcing him to turn in Nick’s arms to face her.
Then she spoke, her voice strong and sure and authoritative. ‘Harry!’ It was a stern command-a voice to be obeyed. ‘Wake up, Harry. You’re having a bad dream. Can you see me? Harry?’
He didn’t focus. The spectre was still there, no matter how tight Nick held him.
‘Harry, look at me. Look at me now!’ It was her best commanding kindergarten-teacher voice, and finally it seemed to get through. Her face was inches from his. She was right in his line of vision-putting herself between Harry and his terror while Nick held on for all he was worth. It was all he could do.
‘Harry, look at me, please. It’s Shanni. I’m here with you, and Nick’s holding you. We’re your friends and we’re here. No one’s hitting you. Harry, wake up and look!’
And finally his gaze moved. It shifted just fractionally, but, instead of an unseeing gaze into distant fear, he focussed waveringly on Shanni.
The terror was still right behind her. She could almost see it, and she had to dispel it. Send it back from wherever it had come from.
‘There’s no one here but Nick and me. No one else. You’re having a bad dream. That’s all it is. A bad dream, Harry. No one is hurting you.’
Still the sense of disbelief.
‘Nick’s holding you and he loves you,’ Shanni said strongly. ‘Nick won’t let anyone hurt you. Will you, Nick?’
‘No way.’ It was a low growl but it was almost a choke, and Shanni glanced at Nick and saw all sorts of emotions playing on his face.
There were shadows there-but that had to wait until later. Focus on Harry.
‘You’re with me and Nick. Harry, you have Nick and you have me and you have Wendy. We all love you, and we won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever. Do you hear me?’
A Child In Need Page 13