What Matters Most

by Dianne Maguire

  ‘You mean on my road bike? No, not yet. I’m riding tomorrow.’

  ‘I guess you have a special group of friends you ride with.’ Are they gay, too?

  ‘Yeah. There are four of us. We come this way quite a bit actually. It’s one of my favourite rides.’

  She looked out at the sweeping hills on her left, their green fading to taupe with the increasing presence of the sun and then to her right where the glare of the sea made her wish she had brought her sunglasses. ‘Yes, I know exactly what you mean,’ she said. ‘It’s stunningly beautiful. Not that you would have the time or the inclination to notice the scenery while you’re riding, would you? The roads look like hard work and the cliff faces seem lethal. It wouldn’t be my idea of recreation,’ Mia said chuckling.

  ‘On the contrary … the best way to appreciate a beautiful environment is on a bike, believe me,’ Noah said.

  Mia nodded. ‘Mm. I’m exceptionally happy to take your word for it.’

  Despite her comfort at being with him during the hour-long journey to the restaurant, and despite her distinct impression he had found their sporadic conversations as enjoyable as she had, Mia was certain by the time they cruised towards the Star of Greece restaurant, overlooking what was today a perfect sea, she had not a scrap of information about his lifestyle than she had possessed at that moment when he had accelerated away from her front kerb.

  Making their way from the car park to the restaurant Mia glanced back yet again at Molly, who seemed unworried, studying their departure intently through the car’s side window before eventually disappearing, obviously tempted by the idea of more sleep. Now more relaxed, Mia gained the distinct impression that Molly was well used to being left alone in a car.

  Their feet crunched along the thin gravel up to the entrance of the restaurant as they glanced out at the statuesque semicircle of ochre cliffs circling the azure-blue bay, like the arms of a proud protective parent.

  ‘Do you know why they call this place the Star of Greece,’ Noah asked rhetorically.

  ‘Yes. The Star of Greece was an iron triple-mast ship that sank in the early morning about 200 metres off the coast during a storm here in 1888,’ Mia replied. There were some survivors, who the locals had cared for in their homes until the authorised rescuers arrived. But apparently 18 lives were lost. At low tide you can still see parts of its hull,’ Mia said pointing over the sea.

  Noah laughed. ‘Okay, I concede. You know more about it than me. You googled it, didn’t you?’

  Her smile broadened. Despite his reticence in discussing his own life in detail, Noah’s insights about other people did not cease to surprise her.

  Mia could not help but stare at the waiter’s extraordinarily tiny waist, emphasised by the sash of her black apron as she led them to their table. Not certain if it had caught Noah’s eye as well, Mia glanced back at him, only to find his attention had been totally captured by the blue expanse of water and the white frill of the waves on the shore. She knew then he had to be gay.

  Their table sat in the furthermost corner of the restaurant, with sea views all around, a white tablecloth reaching to the floor and a small vase of homegrown flowers in the centre, and she immediately thought about her date with Steve tomorrow, pondering how different it would be now if she had been about to sit down at this romantic table with Steve instead of Noah.

  ‘Tell me how you found Molly,’ Noah said smiling and straightening his cutlery once they had ordered.

  ‘I found her on the coast. She seemed terrified, as though she had been running for hours.’ Mia could not help but smile at the memory. ‘I thought she belonged to a guy who has a place near mine. So I bundled her into my car and drove her to his house, only to be met at the front door by Daniel and his perfectly happy, perfectly healthy male dog.’

  He laughed with her. ‘A lot of people would have just walked away and left her to find her own way home,’ Noah said.

  ‘She seemed too distressed. I don’t think I could have done that.’

  ‘What will you do with her?’

  ‘I’m still deciding. The council, the pound, local vets — none of them seem to know where she has come from. So I’ll keep her for the time being.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure if I’m being selfish, given I work such long hours,’ she said, watching the waiter place a chilled glass of white wine in front of her and a beer before Noah.

  ‘Dogs sleep a lot,’ Noah said. ‘She probably doesn’t know whether you’re there or not half the time.’

  ‘Mm, we’ll see. It’s still early days. It’s quite possible her owner may turn up.’ She made a face. ‘To be honest, I’m not sure how I feel about that.’

  ‘She makes you happy. That’s obvious. I think you should keep her,’ Noah said, lifting his glass. ‘To Molly.’

  ‘How is the investigation going?’ Mia said, placing her glass down, anxious to stay in touch with information about Peter given she had no confidence Rachel would ever contact her.

  ‘We found kiddy porn on his computer. So there are additional charges pending. We also suspect this will make it more difficult for him to stick to his claim of not remembering anything. The family doesn’t know yet, so it’d be better if you kept it to yourself.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I don’t see much of the family, anyway … but … I can’t believe it, Noah. How much more can they take?’

  Noah sipped his beer, clearing the froth with his bottom lip. ‘There were over 8,000 images of children of all ages, as young as three months. That’s not surprising either. But what did astound us is that his computer was in the corner of the family room. He would have had no privacy whatsoever, so all we are able to conclude is that he would have waited until no one was around — or he would have taken a chance while they were all going about their business in the family room. Either way, he was living on the edge.’ He shook his head and watched the gulls wheeling above the sea, their muffled squeals audible through the open doors of the restaurant. ‘I don’t know what the experts would say, but my experience makes me convinced that paedophiles enjoy taking risks as much as they enjoy carrying out their depraved acts. Until they get caught, that is. Then they either cry like babies or stoically deny with wide-eyed innocence that they have done anything wrong. Or they commit suicide. Anyway … enough about work.’

  There was a comfortable moment of silence while they both sipped their drinks.

  ‘I’m glad you could come today,’ Noah said.

  ‘I’m glad you asked,’ Mia replied, thinking this was her opportunity to discover more about this enigmatic man. ‘I’m sure you’re not short of female company.’

  He smiled. ‘I’ve learned to do without it. The job, moving around a lot, my cycling … I haven’t really felt inclined to seek women’s company — other than my female colleagues at work, of course. It was a bit different for the first couple of years after my divorce. I think I may have burned myself out,’ he said with a boyish smile.

  Mia pondered what Noah had just told her. It would be foolish to assume that because he had been sexually active, he was not gay. She knew of men whose marriages had disintegrated once they faced the reality of preferring same-sex relationships. ‘Really? So did you burn yourself out with women or men?’ she asked in a voice that hinted her interest was purely clinical.

  He made a face. ‘Women, of course. I’m not gay, Mia.’

  She shrugged, fiercely regretting her words and unable to look him in the eye. ‘I just thought …’

  ‘It’s because I didn’t kiss you the other night, isn’t it?’

  She found his frankness refreshing and terrifying at the same time. ‘Maybe,’ she said sheepishly.

  He smiled. ‘I agree it was a bit awkward. But it would have been even more awkward if I had kissed you purely as an afterthought — even though I desperately wanted to.’ He smiled and swallowed the last mouthful of beer.

  Mia felt the smile spread across her face, the tension leave her body in that very instant.
She felt inexplicably warmer. And even more confused about how she should handle the situation given she seemed to be collecting men like stamps.

  ‘One confit de canard for madame,’ the waitress said, sliding the plate down in front of her, ‘and slow cooked beef cheek for sir. Bon appétit.’

  The food, the wine, every taste was exquisite. The conversation and laughter flowed easily. Mia decided against dessert, but took a mouthful of rhubarb crumble off Noah’s spoon when he offered it. She sipped her coffee and watched the care with which he spooned up his dessert for her to take another taste. And decided that she was grateful to be here with him after all.

  They silently walked from the restaurant to the car, welcomed by Molly’s incessant barking from the driver’s seat, where she was doing her best to excitedly turn circles in the tight space. She hoped Noah was not upset at the slobber marks covering the inside of his car windows.

  ‘Hello, Molly,’ Mia said, tapping the glass and smiling at the dog before turning back to Noah, waiting for him to open the car door so she could throw her arms around Molly’s soft and silky neck. And in that instant, Noah stepped forward, bent to her and brushed his ardently sensual, rapturously tender lips against hers. She turned into him and kissed him back. The pressure of his lips intensified slowly, but with confident assurance. When he finally pulled away she lazily opened her eyes to his smile. ‘There,’ he said, ‘have I convinced you now that I’m not gay?’

  Their drive home was relaxed, mostly silent while Mia reflected on Noah’s unruffled easy-going manner as he pulled an old towel from his boot and rubbed the wet and sandy Molly dry after they had walked for kilometres along the beach. Recalled the feel of him when he had kissed her time and again during the walk. His no-nonsense, cut to the chase manner of conversation and thinking, and his decisive actions, interested her.

  ‘Do you want to come in for dinner?’ she said when they finally pulled up outside her house.

  He wordlessly climbed from the car. Ran round the front and opened Mia’s door. ‘Sure do,’ he said smiling and pecking her on the lips. Molly whined and shuffled in the back seat. ‘You too, Molly,’ he said yanking the back door open.

  Mia was astounded by how much they discovered about each other and how much they had in common as they made pizza and drank a very good red wine she had been saving for a special occasion. Music, films, theatre, holiday destinations, similar upbringings, their only difference being his fanaticism for sports and hers for reading a good book.

  It was after midnight when Noah eventually lifted his arm from behind her head and glanced at his watch as they sat on the settee and watched the fire. ‘I should go,’ he said. He bent and kissed her. Mia had lost count, but she knew that each kiss had invariably been better than the one before. He stood and gently pulled her to her feet. Kissed her again. The sensuality of being wrapped in his arms all evening morphed into urgent arousal when she leaned her body into his and felt his unyielding firmness against her.

  ‘I’d really better go,’ he said, slowly pulling away. Mia wanted to ask him to stay, but she also wanted to wait — to believe that tonight had been the harbinger of good things to come. It occurred to her then that her entrenched penchant for gratification delay was strangely imposing itself at this moment on her sex life. That, and the fact she was having dinner with Steve tomorrow night made it seem wrong to sleep with Noah now. But she also knew she would not have resisted if he had been more insistent.

  Noah kissed her goodbye at the front door without any mention of when they would see each other again. I’m not worried, Mia thought, closing the door and wandering back to the warmth of the fire after waving him goodbye. Planning too far ahead is clearly not his style, she thought. ‘But I know I’ll see him again,’ she mumbled as she stood with her back to the flames, soaking up the warmth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Sunday morning was for Molly. Mia had heard about dog parks before now, but had never had the opportunity to observe the fascinating interactions occurring within this unique area, sequestered by tall fences, their prison-like impression was disguised by tall trees, softly waving shrubs and abundant birdsong. Mia watched Molly frolic and chase and sniff along with the other 20 or so dogs sharing the grassed parkland. Individual humans stood with their arms crossed and watched their canine friends, absorbed within their own thoughts, or smiling proudly at their antics, while some strolled the parameters occasionally throwing a ball, and others clustered in small groups. Mia kept an eye on Molly who was determinedly coveting the ball belonging to another dog and wandered over to join a group of humans nearby.

  ‘Which one is yours?’ a matronly woman with perfectly coiffed hair asked immediately Mia approached.

  ‘The golden retriever — over there,’ Mia said, prompting the other members of the group, a young woman wearing shorts and runners and a man not much older than Mia with a handlebar moustache and a panama hat, to peer towards where Mia had perfunctorily pointed.

  ‘She’s cute,’ the young girl said, more from obligatory politeness than genuine interest.

  Mia tried to join in the trio’s conversation, acutely aware she had interrupted, fascinated to glean from the conversation that they knew each other well as regular visitors to this and other dog parks. They compared experiences and exchanged anecdotes about their dog’s latest antics or illnesses, referring to their dogs by name, but not each other.

  Even after such a highly active visit stretching out to more than half an hour, when they made their way out through the self-closing gates and along the paved pathway to the car, Mollie still pranced and wagged on the end of her lead, enthusiastically sniffing and squatting, apparently unfettered by the fatigue Mia had expected she would be feeling by now. Not until she climbed into the car and, shortly after Mia started the ignition, pushed her way through to the back seat, did she stretch out and begin gently snoring within minutes.

  Later, Mia showered and dressed in red, feeling confident and sassy about dinner with Steve. She pushed through the glass doors of Honeyeaters — an easy choice given it was where they had last met — and a sense of déjà vu flooded over her as she spotted Steve sitting in the exact spot at the bar that Declan had occupied that night when she had been such a wreck after seeing Eric and Lucinda at the airport together. It seems like a lifetime ago, she thought, returning Steve’s smile.

  The moment she reached him Steve extended his arms and she walked into them as though they had finally come home. They hugged long and hard until she stepped back and arched an eyebrow. ‘I’m glad nothing’s changed,’ she said smiling.

  ‘Sorry. Call it a Pavlovian response. It happened the moment you walked in.’ He gave her a lingering peck on the lips. ‘Our table is over this way,’ he said, taking her hand.

  ‘How are you? You seem to be glowing,’ Steve said seriously, studying her face once they had caught up on the detail of the consultation that had been the other reason for him being in Adelaide, and had exchanged up-to-the-minute information about their work.

  Mia peered from under her lowered eyelashes. ‘It could possibly have something to do with you,’ she said leaning across the table and running her fingers across the dark stubble on his jaw, warmth flooding her yet again.

  ‘You should stop that,’ he said, ‘or the table will begin to levitate.’

  ‘Boaster,’ she joked, sipping her champagne.

  Determined to avoid a postmortem analysis about Eric and their impending divorce, Mia repeatedly dismissed Steve’s questions with curt answers until he finally dropped the topic. Bursting with pride and excitement she filled the subsequent vacuum of silence with a detailed account of Adam’s imminent return home from Brisbane and his plan to study primate protection in West Africa. Steve’s chest swelled as he discussed the latest achievements of his journalist daughter, to the point where they both felt compelled to withdraw their mobiles and exchange copious photographs of their children. She looks like Steve, Mia thought, as she peered at
the photograph of his daughter in army fatigues staring desolately at the rubble all round her in what was once a suburban street in war-torn Syria. She wondered about his second daughter, but instinctively decided against asking.

  Mia would think back on this later as a scintillating evening, a delightful meal and easy conversation in the company of a man who not only made her blisteringly hot the moment she thought of him, but who also evoked a snug fondness.

  ‘Your place or mine? Or is that putting too fine a point on it?’ Steve said softly once they had finished coffee.

  Deliciously aware of the sensation of every drop of her blood having accumulated in the one spot, Mia felt afraid it was all going to be over before she even rose from her seat. With a sudden surge of memory she said, ‘Let’s go to my place. I have a dog now and I don’t want to leave her alone.’

  ‘A dog?’ Steve said, frowning.

  ‘Yes, she just happened along. She’s a stray.’

  They walked to her house, to relive memories of their previous walk through North Adelaide as much as any other reason, Mia thought. They strolled past looming mansions and squat row cottages, which were all but hidden under the dim light of ornate lamps lining cobbled laneways and wide streets paved with century-old slate. Her heels clicked along the pavement as she enjoyed the warmth of Steve’s soft hand wrapped around hers, the contentment of simply being with him and the searing anticipation of what was yet to come.

  ‘What’s your house like?’ Steve said, taking in the two-layered bluestone on the corner they had just turned.

  ‘You’ll see in about 30 seconds. We’re almost there,’ she said, immediately alarmed when she glanced ahead at the light spilling onto her front garden from the windows of almost every room in her house.

  ‘That’s strange,’ she murmured as they passed through her front gate and made their way to the door. ‘I’m sure I switched the lights off when I left … I’ve probably tripled the electricity bill, but at least Molly hasn’t been in the dark,’ she muttered to Steve as he stood by her side and watched her rummage in her bag for the key.