by Iris Blobel
She blushed and with a slow nod replied, “I think we’re heading towards something really good.”
“You deserve a guy like him. He’s a decent bloke.”
A small giggle escaped her. “A guy like him?”
She met his gaze, and he winked.
“I also had a chat with the minister who used to help us in Sydney. I don’t think we would have survived without him.”
“A minister, eh?” he said quietly, as he removed his arm.
The sudden change in his voice was obvious. “You all right?”
With a deep breath, he moved away. “Of course I’m all right. Anyway, so you had a chat with your minister. What did he say about Mia’s father?”
“Father Mahoney said—”
Zach stopped mid-track and stared at her. His eyes turned icy, and it gave Sophie a chill. Yet, she walked over to him and placed a hand on his chest. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Tell me about Father Mahoney,” he asked with a throaty voice.
With a frown between her eyes, it was now her turn to stare at him. “Er, well… he’s…” Her shoulders sagged. “Why? What do you want to know?”
“Tim Mahoney?”
Startled, her mouth dropped open, but she was too stunned to talk.
“Father Tim Mahoney of St Joseph’s?”
She took a step back and stared at him as if he were from a different world. “Do you know him?” she asked, just above a whisper, her head starting to spin, a lot of thoughts running through her head.
His stare dropped down to his feet, and Sophie thought she heard a deep and unspoken sadness in his voice. “I know him, all right.”
Sophie stood in front of Zach, waiting for him to tell her about Father Mahoney, eager to find out about their connection.
Was it possible that her puzzle wasn’t complete after all? Were there missing pieces that somehow involved Zach?
The silence in the room was deafening. Again, she found herself tense, and again, waiting for someone else to speak first. She nearly cried out loud, when she heard his voice.
“He’s my father,” he murmured.
The change in his demeanour right there in front of her was obvious, but still her eyes widened in astonishment. “Your father?”
Her mind reeled in confusion. In fact, it went into overdrive, but she wasn’t able figure out the puzzle in front of her. “What do you mean your father?”
“Part of my DNA,” he said icily.
Sophie threw up her hands in frustration. “Hang on. He’s a minister. How can he be your father?”
He choked back a chuckle. “It seems Mia and I have something in common.”
Raking her hands through her hair, Sophie focussed her gaze on his face. His beautiful blue eyes, his nose, his mouth. Everything. But there was nothing about him what reminded her of her friend back in Sydney. Yet, in all honesty, she had obviously never studied the minister in such detail. She turned and looked for somewhere to sit.
“I don’t understand,” she whispered.
He frowned, and she noticed he was uncomfortable as he rocked back and forth on his heels.
“I don’t need to know, Zach,” she whispered. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”
Raising one eyebrow, one corner of his mouth pulled into a slight smile. “Don’t want to know, eh?”
She shrugged.
“Liar,” he replied with a boyish smile.
As he took a deep breath, he pulled a chair closer and sat next to her. “He’s my father. Mum and he got married and had me. Tim was never truly happy, and when I was about a year or two old, he left and started his studies in theology. I visit him once in a while when I’m in Sydney, but we haven’t got much in common, so our conversations are basic and mundane.”
“But your name is Taylor.”
“Mum’s maiden name,” he replied matter-of-factly.
“So you told him about Ms. Bellinger?”
He shook his head forcefully. “I had nothing to do with this. Honestly.” Scratching his head, his focus turned towards the window. “At least I don’t think so. No idea how that happened. Not even a clue. I’m sorry I can’t help you there.” He snorted. “Gives new meaning to Divine intervention.”
She took his hand. “You know, even though you’re not actually on good terms with your father, I’d like to tell you how terrific he’s been with us. I wouldn’t even know where to start to thank him.”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t need convincing. I know it was his call, and that he’s a brilliant minister. It was just so hard for a young kid to see his father more interested in other people’s lives than in his own son’s.”
Sophie drew in her lips and then met his gaze. “That’s why I feel I need to postpone telling Mia about her father.”
He nodded. “I think I get that now.”
Gently, she placed her hand on his cheek. “I must be one lucky lass to not only cross paths with Father Mahoney, but Mahoney’s son as well.”
He grimaced. “I’d rather you forget about that fact and let me be your neighbour Zach again.”
With a sigh, she replied, “Such a shame. Sure you won’t—”
“Cupcake, you start any reconciliation crap speech, I will walk out of here, never to be seen again.”
She bit her lip and studied him, realising the sincerity in his words. “Okay. I’ll try not to—”
“No trying. You will not.”
She nodded. “I promise.”
****
Mark closed his laptop as he stood and then walked out of his study and down the hall into the kitchen. He’d bought the apartment he lived in only a few years earlier. The price had nearly floored him, but with no other significant expenses in his life, he’d signed the deal within a couple of days after he’d first seen it. He loved the place. Sitting on the little balcony, watching over Salamanca Place with a glass of wine in his hand was the most relaxing way to cope with his daily challenges.
The place had three bedrooms, of which one was the master; the second one he had converted into his study. The latter was in a constant mess. The desk was too small for all his files, the shelves already stacked with books. It was on his to-do list to organise more storage. The rest of the apartment was furnished, unlike Sophie’s house, with modern furniture and equipment. It was mostly white, or in shades of grey or black. Exactly the way he liked it. Well, as he had liked it, until he had got used to the comfort over at the girls’ house.
At the constant ringing of the telephone, he checked the time, playing with the idea of not answering. He had no clue who could be calling him at night. He leaned over to reach for the phone and recognised the number.
“Hi,” he answered, as a smile slid over his face spreading warmth through his entire body. “Still awake?”
He thought he could hear a soft laugh on the other end of the line. “Yes. Can’t sleep. There’s just been too much going on at the moment. Did I wake you?”
His turn to chuckle. “Nope. I still have to work on a few files before tomorrow.”
“You work too much.”
“Not really. I just like working at night when all’s quiet.”
There was a noise in the background, and he wondered where she was. “You’re in bed?”
“Hmm-hmm.”
“What about Mia?”
There was a little cackle. “I’ve got my own bedroom now.”
That brought another smile to his face.
“I lost the toss though. She’s got the master bedroom with the ensuite.”
With a shake of his head, he replied, “That’ll be all right.”
“And I need a bigger bed.”
“Is that right? It seemed perfect to me the other day.” His gaze wandered outside, where he could vaguely see the moon at the horizon. Yet, that wasn’t what he was thinking about. The so
ftness of her skin underneath his touch. His lips tasting the sweetness of her mouth. Even over the distance, she was able to get his heart racing so loud it was thumping in his ear.
His voice was throaty and low. “I’m happy to share mine anytime.”
There was a silence for a long moment.
“Soph?”
“I’m just imagining your bed. Did you know I’ve never been to your place?”
Her voice was quiet, and he needed to strain his ears to hear it. She sounded sleepy. Had she ignored what he had said?
“How about I pick you up tomorrow after work and you stay here overnight? We could go to Salamanca Market on Saturday morning.”
“I promised Mia we’d do a cruise to see the seals.”
A dull sense of disappointment spread through him. “Have you booked already?”
“Not yet. But I’ve got the money. I’ve saved quite a bit from working at the café.”
His gaze went out into the darkness again. Even though he’d lived in Hobart most of his life, he had never been on the famous cruises along the coast. Suddenly the change of idea was enticing.
“How about I join you?”
There was a brief silence and he worried whether he’d gone too far by inviting himself. He knew how close the sisters were and how much they treasured their time together. How much they treasured their days exploring their new home.
“I’d love that very much,” she finally replied, and the subtle sing-song of her voice told him she really would.
“Good night, Sophie.”
But there was no response. He chuckled. The gentle sound of her breathing was all he heard. With a delightful sigh of contentment, he pushed the off button and walked down the long hall into his bedroom. The thought of having her with him the next day sent a rush through his body.
Chapter Seventeen
It was just after seven the next night when Mark stepped into Sophie’s kitchen. It was a familiar scene. She tidied up the kitchen, and Mia sat at the table concentrating over her homework. Familiarity was good, and she liked it. As she looked over her shoulder, she watched him placing a kiss on top of Mia’s head.
“Packed your stuff?”
The little girl’s dimples appeared, and she gave him her biggest smile. “Yup. Even the new beanie Soph bought. Apparently watching the seals from a boat can be terribly cold.”
A grin overtook his features. “Kiddo, don’t tell her, but she’s right.”
Sophie interrupted their little talk. “Like some dinner?”
He nodded. This was part of the familiarity as well. She took a plate out of the shelf and dished out some gnocchi and stroganoff.
A smile twitched at the corner of her mouth when she felt his arm around her waist and his lips on her neck. She was falling for him so hard, no, she had fallen hard for him, and like he had told her the first day, he was part of the house. The furniture would stay, and so would he. That was all she wanted.
“How was your day?” he asked, just above a whisper.
“Got a B in Health and Safety of Children,” she replied with a smile.
He winked. “That’s a girl.”
Sophie turned into his embrace and gently kissed his chin. “And Georgia’s cousin Jeri loves my photos. She’d love to have one or two in her gallery in town.”
Holding her at arm’s length, he gazed into her eyes. “Well, what d’you know?” he murmured, then leaned closer and gently brushed her lips with his, which she returned, her lips seeking his fully.
“Excuse me!” Mia said loudly. “There are kids in the room.”
Instantly blushing, Sophie placed her hand on his chest to create space between them. He chuckled, took his place, and sat next to the little girl.
“What’s the homework for today?”
“Just reading. Mrs Jackson was sick today.”
Nodding, he stuck the fork into the meat. “What are you reading?”
She lifted the book to show him the cover: Geronimo Stilton.
With his left eyebrow raised slightly, he asked, “A mouse?”
“Geronimo,” she sighed. “He lives in New Mouse City on Mouse Island. His sister is Thea Stilton. There’s always an adventure for him. Really cool books.”
“Really cool, eh?”
“Yup.”
Mark looked over to Sophie, who tried hard not to grin, but failed. He ate his dinner as he listened to some of Geronimo’s adventures, occasionally asking questions, but Sophie was sure she some relief on his face when Mia left to watch telly.
“Only for a little while, Mia. Remember, we’re staying at Mark’s tonight.”
Her sister turned and beamed. “Yes.” She quickly grabbed her school books. “I’ll be ready in no time.” She turned to Mark with hands on hips. “You do have a shower, don’t you?”
He nearly choked on his dinner. “Yes, ma’am. I do have a shower.”
“Good. I can do that there.” Her attention moved to her older sister. “I can, can’t I?”
Attempting to make this little change of sleeping somewhere else easier on the young girl, she simply nodded, a smile tugging at her lips.
****
Mark watched Sophie with some amusement as she tried to settle Mia for the night. The girl had been excited and explored every corner of his apartment. The most stimulating subjects, for her, were the large plasma TV and the leather couch in the lounge room. And that was after she had spent about ten minutes in the bathroom, desperately wanting a bath in the spa.
The girl’s excitement was fuelled even more when she found out that Mark had bought her special pink fairy bed sheets. She loved them, screaming in delight as she ran her hands over them, tracing the designs. And yet they weren’t the incentive to go to bed that he had hoped. So she had a shower before settling in front of the TV and watching some awful kids’ movie. They all watched, and when the girls laughed at some bad joke, Mark just shook his head. But deep inside, he enjoyed it. With his arm around Sophie, legs up on the coffee table, he sipped his glass of red wine.
“Possum, it’s time to go to bed. We’ll need to get up early tomorrow to get down to the wharf for the cruise.”
“Do I have to?”
Her sister nodded.
The little girl stood. “If I have to. You will tuck me in, won’t you?”
Sophie stood as well and for the next fifteen minutes, Mark enjoyed hearing the soft voices in echoing through the apartment. It was like his place that seemed so empty and sterile only a week ago was suddenly brought to life by these two. He choked back a chuckled, leant back, and listened to Sophie as she read her sister a story.
When she returned, she sat next to Mark on the couch. “I like your place. It’s kind of cool.”
He lazily arched an eyebrow. “Cool?”
“Cool. Hip. Very—”
“Cold,” he interrupted her.
She turned to him. “No. No, that’s not what I meant.”
As he placed his arm around her shoulder, he gently pulled her closer. “I like your place. It’s warm and cosy. Kind of lived-in.”
“Yes, it is,” she agreed. “And I love it.” Then she suddenly pulled her leg up and sat to face him. “Anyway, you wouldn’t believe what I found out yesterday.”
“Does it deserve a glass of wine?”
A bit surprised by his question, she mumbled, “I suppose so.”
As Mark filled a glass of wine for her while she retold the story about Zach and his father, who turned out to be Father Mahoney, her guide, best friend, and saviour in Sydney.
“You like him, don’t you?”
“Who?”
Taking a deep breath, he kept his tone even as he replied. “Zach.”
“He’s a great friend and a great help.”
Mark nodded slowly. Placing her hand on his arm, she said quietly, “He’s a terrific friend, Mark. That’s all.”
A little grin came on his face, which tu
rned into a big smile. She surprised him when she leaned forward and gave him a kiss.
“You did know that, though, didn’t you?”
When he was about to answer she placed her finger on his lips. “I haven’t finished with my story yet.” She took a sip of wine and carried on with her story. “So I rang Father Mahoney yesterday. It was lovely, catching up with him again.”
His face creased into a little grin, as her thoughts wandered off.
Her finger traced the edge of the wine glass. “I told him how we’re settling and loving it here. And how well Mia is doing in school and with her friends.” She met his gaze. “I told him about you, as well.”
He placed a kiss on her forehead.
“He’s very happy for us. Then I told him about Zach, and it was like all that we’ve had over the years just disappeared instantly.” With her gaze focussing out the window now, she continued. “I think I hit a raw nerve with that, and even though I apologised, saying that I didn’t mean to intrude into his private life, the conversation wasn’t the same from that moment on. I did explain that I was calling because I was happy that I had met his son, who is just as wonderful as he is.”
His finger touched her skin and moved her head towards him.
“Mark, this whole inheritance is just one large coincidence after the other. It’s downright creepy.”
“So Mahoney knew Clara Bellinger?”
“Father Mahoney,” she corrected him. “Yes, he did. Mum had told Father Mahoney about Mr. Schuster being Mia’s dad. You know the whole ‘I’ve sinned’ thing. So when Zach turned up one day and told him about his new neighbour, Clara Bellinger, whom he had known as Clara Schuster in the beginning, Father Mahoney became all ears. I was a bit surprised about that, because Zach had told me he hadn’t mentioned Clara.” As she thought about the next sentence, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, gently and patiently. “I brought it up when talking to Father Mahoney, but he explained it had been one of Clara’s bad nights, and his son had rung and asked him for a prayer.”
“Can’t you do your thing, Tim?”
“What’s my thing, Zach?”
“Pray. For Pete’s sake, just pray for her. After all, it was her husband who sinned, and not her.”