The Boy is Back in Town

by Nina Harrington

  And then he had to leave Swanhaven and Mari and her family.

  Of course everything had come to a head on the night of her sixteenth birthday party. She had waited all day for her father to turn up. But it had been Ethan who’d followed her out onto the beach and held on to her as she’d raged against the unfairness and cruelty of what he had done, talking and shouting in an explosion of suppressed emotion and crying and hanging on to him for strength until the dawn. Then he’d kissed her goodbye.

  And then he had watched her pale silent face grow smaller and smaller as his family had driven out of Swanhaven. It had been one of the hardest things he had ever done. For one night he had felt an unshakeable bond with Mari which was so special. So unique. And he hadn’t had the emotional tools he needed to talk to her about Kit and make her understand how truly devastated he was.

  It had been easier to leave with his parents and start a new life. And he was sorry for that.

  It had hurt to see her in pain then. And it hurt now.

  Ignoring the other people moving towards Rosa with coats and offers of a car to the hospital, Ethan wound his way around the room, looped his arm around Mari’s waist and half carried her as far as the hall, where she had some hope of catching her breath, or at least passing out with some dignity.

  She looked up at him in surprise, then, as though recognising that something in him she could trust until her dying day, she stared, white-faced, into his concerned eyes.

  ‘The ambulance is on its way, but can you take me to the hospital to be with Rosa? Please? I don’t have a car and …’

  ‘You got it.’

  As Ethan grabbed his own jacket from the hall stand and wrapped it around her shoulders, he knew it would take more than a coat to stop this precious woman from shivering. He had watched when her world had fallen apart once before, and he had been a boy. Powerless to help her, he had been forced to just stand back and watch her pain.

  No longer.

  She faltered on the icy steps and as he held her tighter around the waist, taking her weight, he felt her heart beating under her thin dress in the cold night air and he knew his fate was sealed.

  Doomed.

  In that fraction of a second it took for his arm to wrap around Mari’s body, he knew that there was a chance that she could forgive him for Kit’s death—a small chance, but a chance nevertheless. And that meant more to him than he could say.

  Ten years ago he had walked away from Mari without telling her how he felt about her. How could he? She had accused him of being reckless and not caring about anything but winning the race the day that Kit died. And she had been right about that. He had wanted to win. And maybe he had pushed the boat and Kit beyond what they were capable of doing, but no one could have predicted that wave hitting their boat so hard that it capsized. It had not seemed possible.

  A series of unexpected events were responsible for Kit dying that day while he survived and he had relived those few minutes so many times in so many ways to know that there was not one thing that he could have done differently.

  Strange how it didn’t make any difference. His life had been changed forever since that morning all those years ago. And perhaps Mari was right to blame him. Because he certainly blamed himself and had gone on blaming himself, year after year, to the point when the only way he could escape the pain was by relentless action. Kit would never have the opportunity to sail in the great yacht races around the world—so he put himself through every extreme to win. For both of them.

  He had run away from Mari on the morning after he had kissed her, filled with guilt and self-reproach.

  Well, he wasn’t running now. Mari needed him and it was obvious that she still linked him to Kit’s death. It was time to make a stand.

  He was making a commitment to Marigold Chance. All over again. And this time it had nothing to do with Kit and everything to do with Mari and how he felt just seeing her again.

  He had his arm around Mari at precisely the time when he should be concentrating on getting back to Florida to plan the next phase of fund-raising for the charity. And the feeling was so amazing and yet so crazy and foolish that Ethan almost laughed out loud.

  Her life was in computing in California. His life was in competitive sailing in Florida. In a few days he would leave Swanhaven in good hands and get back to a full workload teaching teens to sail for the next six months.

  He was no good for her. All he had to do was make his heart believe it.

  Mari turned over and pulled the duvet a little closer around her shoulders as she snuggled down into the cushion and gave a little sigh of contentment.

  Mmm. She had enjoyed such a sweet dream where Ethan Chandler had sat with her on this very sofa until she fell asleep. Lovely. This was such a comfy warm bed. She could lie here all day.

  Her eyes creaked open and some part of her brain registered that daylight was peeking in around the corner of the thin curtains, which looked different somehow. And it was strange that her alarm clock had not gone off. It was the last thing she checked every night without fail.

  She stretched out her arm towards the bedside cabinet and her fingers scrabbled about in vain to find the clock. Her right eye opened just a little more.

  It wasn’t there. And her arm was covered with something pink and fluffy, which had certainly not come from her suitcase.

  She pulled her arm back under the warm duvet and closed her eyes for one complete millisecond before snapping them open and sitting up in the bed.

  And then collapsed back down again onto the cushions with a groan and pulled the duvet over her head.

  No wonder she hadn’t recognised the curtains.

  This was not her cool airy apartment in California. This was Rosa’s living room and she had fallen asleep on the sofa.

  And Ethan had carried her inside last night because she had turned into a pathetic weeping creature the minute they had brought Rosa home from the accident department. The rest of her family had been so wonderful and encouraging while she had been totally pathetic and embarrassed herself.

  She had not even managed to reach her own bedroom.

  ‘Are you decent in there? I have coffee.’

  She glanced down at her clothing before answering Ethan. She was wearing the same black dress she had put on the night before, which luckily was not creased beyond redemption, plus a long-sleeved pink sweatshirt with fluffy kittens on the front belonging to Rosa. In fact the only thing missing from her outfit were her shoes.

  Yes, she was decent. And Ethan Chandler had put her to bed. And what else? She couldn’t remember anything past being lowered onto the couch and someone tucking the duvet in around her. Oh! Was that part of a dream? Help!

  ‘Coffee would be good,’ was her feeble reply as she pushed herself up on the sofa and drew the covers up to cover her chest inside the sweatshirt. Pathetic indeed.

  Ethan breezed into the room carrying a tray with two steaming mugs of the most wonderful-smelling coffee and a paper bag, which he opened and presented to her as he collapsed down on the other end of the sofa, completely unfazed by the fact that she was lying on it.

  The tray was made from the lid of a cardboard packing box, each coffee mug had a picture of a puppy on it and there was a marked absence of napkins or plates but, strangely, this was the kind of room service she could get used to.

  ‘Morning. I stopped by the bakery on my way in. The lovely Rosa is awake and in her kitchen and managing quite well considering the strapping on her wrist. Apparently these are her favourite cupcakes—oh, and I found these in my truck this morning. Yours?’

  He held up the pair of gold, high-heeled sandals she had borrowed from Rosa the night before, and Mari gave him a look. ‘Ah, I didn’t think so. Feel free to help yourself to a takeaway breakfast. I brought enough for three.’

  Mari reached inside the bag and pulled out a muffin in a bright pink paper case. It was covered in heart-shaped pink sparkles with a small blob of white icing at the centre.<
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  Mari and Ethan both stared at the muffin for a second in silence before he laughed. ‘Well, that definitely suits Rosa.’

  Luckily the next cake looked like double chocolate chip and Ethan grinned and clutched it to his chest in delight. ‘Your sister does have style. Coffee? The café was open.’

  All Mari could manage was a single nod, and it took several delicious sips of the hot bittersweet blend before she was ready to speak. ‘Oh, that is just what I needed. Perfect.’

  They sat in silence for a few minutes, but it was Mari who found the courage to break the truce and say what she needed to say. One adult to another.

  ‘Ethan.’

  ‘Um,’ he replied, between mouthfuls.

  ‘Thanks for last night. Sorry about the crying jag. I’m … embarrassed about … well … what I must have looked like. Sorry.’

  He shook his head and pursed his lips. ‘You’ve no need to feel sorry. You only have one sister. If she hurts, you hurt. I get that. Things will look better in a few days.’

  Mari gulped down a surge of emotion which threatened to overwhelm her. Ethan had come to Rosa’s aid when she needed it, stayed with them when he did not have to, and now he was offering her understanding. Suddenly it all seemed too much to take in, and she covered it up by blowing on her coffee.

  ‘Thank you. Although—’ and she dared to look up at him with a thin smile ‘—I’m not sure if things will settle down in a few days after last night. What did the doctor say? A couple of weeks? That could be a problem for a girl who knits for a living and works in a bar.’

  Ethan sipped his coffee before answering. ‘Sprained wrists are a common injury in sailing and she will struggle for quite a while but things will be fine. She was lucky it wasn’t broken.’

  Mari dropped her head to focus on folding the muffin paper into tighter and tighter V-shaped angles. ‘I almost feel guilty about leaving so soon when she needs help—but I must get back to work next week.’

  ‘She knows that you came a long way to spend time with her. In the snow. And you even had to put up with me for a few hours. That’s quite a sacrifice. Your sister is going to be fine.’ And he reached for his second muffin.

  ‘Hey!’

  ‘What? I missed my dinner too. And breakfast. Did you know it’s almost ten?’

  ‘What?’ Mari gasped, almost spraying coffee all over the duvet.

  ‘Relax. You were exhausted. Sometimes it pays to let your body have a rest. I’ll go and check on your sister. And try to wake up.’

  Mari looked up just in time for her face to be inches away from Ethan’s middle, as he lifted his left arm above his head and stretched it out towards the polystyrene ceiling tiles, rolling his shoulder to shrug off a mighty yawn. And she almost dropped her drink.

  Tight, perfect six-pack. Deep tanned abs. No muffin-top hanging over the top of these jeans. A faint line of dark hair ran down between the bands of muscle below his belly button and, as he stretched up to grasp both hands behind his head, she noticed a touch of silky elastic waistband. Silk boxers. Navy check.

  He still smelt wonderful.

  Only now that outdoor, aromatic cologne was mixed with something else. Sweat. Plus something unique to Ethan she had almost forgotten about.

  Oh, yeah. Ethan smell.

  Starched white shirts and shoe polish.

  She used to make a point of sitting as close to him as she could manage without being a stalker, just so she could smell his laundry. Her own clothes had never seen an iron, because they did not actually own one that worked, and every surface in their house was usually covered in a mixture of cat hair and sometimes paint and linseed oil splatters.

  He stopped moving.

  She kept staring.

  He just smiled and brushed the crumbs from his fingers onto the tray.

  Mari moistened her lower lip with her tongue. ‘Ethan. One question. Did you put me to bed last night? That was you, wasn’t it?’

  She watched him slip off the sofa and head for the door, only to turn at the last minute and grin.

  ‘Maybe. Maybe not.’ And he dived out.

  ‘How can you still look fabulous with your wrist all strapped up like that? It is so totally unfair.’

  Rosa kissed Mari on the forehead and waggled her elbow before wincing a little. ‘It’s a burden I shall have to get used to. The pretty scarf helps. And the painkillers are really most excellent. I feel quite giddy. Remind me not to drink any wine tonight or there’ll be more contorts … tortoises … sprains to go with this one.’

  ‘Oh, I will.’ Mari smiled and sat down next to her sister at the dining room table. ‘You are not leaving this house today, young lady, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Bossy boots,’ Rosa hissed at Mari, then sat back in her chair and grinned at Ethan, who was just finishing off his second breakfast of cheese on toast washed down with scalding-hot tea. ‘I bet you wouldn’t make me stay inside for days, lovely man. Would you?’

  Mari lifted her eyebrows and stole a sly glance towards Ethan, daring him to side with Rosa before he replied. ‘You are grounded, young lady. Better get used to it. The last thing my house needs is a crazy one-armed girl going mad with a paint sprayer.’

  Rosa groaned and dropped her head onto her outstretched right arm. ‘Oh, no. The decorating. What are you going to do? I’m so sorry. I forgot. What still needs to be done?’

  ‘The building work is done. Utilities, water, the lot.’ He raised his right hand. ‘I still need to finish the decorating and the final detail with the furniture and textiles. Everything that’s going to encourage my dad to finally take a rest and retire while he’s still fit enough to enjoy life. And there is the small matter of the fact that I promised my mum that the house would be ready when they get here next weekend.’

  He dropped both elbows back to the table, clasped his hands together, lifted his chin and stared at Mari, his eyes never leaving her face as he spoke. ‘I already called three decorating firms and they’re booked solid until the end of February. I need help now.’

  There was a stunned silence in the room, broken only by the crackling of the logs in the open fire. Then Rosa blew out a whistle and waved her bandaged wrist towards Ethan.

  ‘Ethan, I can’t do much except give directions. Unless …’ Then she pushed herself slowly off her chair, slid around the table so that she was sitting next to Ethan, and leant her elbows on the table and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

  As though they had rehearsed their movements in advance, Ethan and Rosa lowered their chins onto their cupped right hands in perfect coordination and both of them just sat there, staring into Mari’s face.

  ‘Your mother was the best home decorator this town has ever seen.’ Ethan paused and added in a low, calm, matter-of-fact voice, ‘I already have the paint and supplies Rosa recommended, and the house is full of stuff. What I don’t have is an extra pair of hands and someone to make it all come together. If only someone would volunteer to take Rosa’s place and help me out, it would make all the difference to my parents.’

  Mari realised what was happening and held out both hands palm-forward in denial.

  ‘Oh, no. Don’t even go there! I’m here for one long weekend, and then I have to get back to work next week. There’s no way I can take on a big decorating job in two days. There is also the small matter of my total lack of artistic talent. Computers. I like computers … and two against one is totally unfair.’