by Joanne Hill
He paused.
She prodded, “And what do you say?”
“I say I’m ringing to wish them happy birthday and ask how they’re doing.”
They were approaching the outskirts now, and the speed limit had dropped down to forty-five miles.
“Then they say why the hell do I want to know and how would I know what it’s like to be poor, and how dare I rub it in that I’m some fancy big city guy, and who did I rip off to get my income and I’ll be in jail soon anyway.”
She stared straight ahead and wished he wouldn’t say any more now. But she was the one who had asked.
“I tell them they are my parents regardless of who or what I am, but they have nothing more to say and the conversation fizzles out. If I ring when my father has been on a bender, he generally tells me what to do and hangs up.”
His face was tight and grim, and he was that boy, that boy who had managed to survive against the odds that had been stacked so grievously against him.
Regret sunk heavily in her stomach. “I had no idea.” So the rumors of the rough treatment were probably a lot more than mere rumor.
They had been his reality.
She laced her fingers in her lap and wished she could take him in her arms and tell him it would be okay. Wished she had been a friend to him, because he had probably needed friends but she hadn’t known that, and besides, she’d been alternately scared and in awe of him. He was gorgeous, and enigmatic, and young men like that hadn’t needed nerdy girls like Robyn hanging around.
But now she thought of it, most of the time it had been him and his bike. Jack Fletcher alone. Never part of a gang or a group.
“But I think you’re right,” he said. “My parents may well have changed.”
A niggle of unease began to grow in her. She didn’t think that would be the case. And even if they had changed, how could you forgive parents who wanted to disown you when you were the one making all the effort? How did that figure?
Why, she wondered as he slowed down to the 30 mile speed limit, had he changed his mind and agreed to come here?
Five minutes later, Jack turned into the Fletcher’s driveway, and stopped the car alongside the front porch. Robyn noticed the house had had improvements made to it, significant improvements since she’d last seen it. The roof had been replaced, an impressive stone fence erected, a new garage instead of the falling down carport she remembered, and the weatherboard house and peeling window frames had been painted. No doubt Jack's doing. But the place was still unkempt. Lawns hadn't been mowed, the gardens were overgrown, save for the patches of brown weeds that had been sprayed at some time. Curtains were half drawn and pot plants had long ago died on the front step. Robyn shivered and glanced at Eric who was looking eagerly out the car window. He’d been told he was going to meet his grandparents. Now she wished she had kept her big mouth shut, and not started Jack out on this perverse action.
Jack climbed out, shut the door, and said through the window, “I’ll see if they’re up to seeing visitors first.”
“Wait.” She swung open the door and joined him. Even the path, she noticed, had been re-paved with attractive terracotta slabs, but weeds from the lawn covered it well over the edging. “Do you want me to come in?”
He glanced at the house. A net curtain had shifted. “Wait here.” She noticed a shift in the tension.
He walked up the front porch and stood as rigid as a fence post as he knocked, and waited.
He knocked again.
Finally, the door opened the merest fraction, then wider, and a woman stood there.
Robyn recognized his mother, even though time had aged her more than it should have. She wore baggy gray sweatpants, a pink jersey and pale khaki fleece vest. Her gray streaked hair was pulled into a straggly ponytail
She acknowledged him with a nod, and peered behind at Robyn. Her gaze skimmed her up and down, stared some more. “Isn’t that the Taylor girl?”
Robyn waved, called out, “Hi Mrs Fletcher. How are you?”
His mother only frowned some more. She finally turned to Jack. “What brings you here?”
He rammed his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “I hadn’t been back in a while. Hadn’t heard from you. Wondered what you were doing, how you were.”
She held the door open. “I guess you better come in. We got nothing to offer you. You come all the way from Auckland?”
He nodded, and beckoned to Eric.
“Who’s the kid?” she asked as Eric came tentatively forward.
“This is Eric. He's my son. Your grandchild.”
A man appeared at the door then and time could have stood still for Robyn. Like his mother, Jack’s father had aged but she’d have known him in an instant. He was now overweight, and his thinning black hair hung to his neck in greasy strands. Yet beneath it all, she recognized the features that Jack had inherited. The slashing cheekbones, now mottled by ruddy colour, and the blue eyes, now blurry and bloodshot.
A cigarette hung out the side of his mouth. “You get some girl knocked up just like your brothers?”
Bile rose in Robyn’s throat and she called out, “Jack?” He turned around and she offered, “I could take Eric if you like.”
Jack tightened his grip on Eric’s shoulders as his mouth tightened in to a grim line. “Take the car for a drive. Be back in half an hour.”
Robyn watched as he and Eric went inside and the door slammed shut behind him.
Robyn drove James and Ruby around Kopane, and drove slowly past her old house where, she told the twins, she'd grown up.
The house looked to be owned by a young family. It would be a happy home. She noted the swing in the front yard and a small green trike up the driveway. She frowned suddenly. It had been a happy home when she’d been growing up. Hadn’t it?
Suddenly disturbed, she pulled away, and they went past Kopane High, past the library where she'd spent so much of her time as a child and a teen, past the church where she'd belonged to the youth group and when she was younger, had belonged to the Brownies. She drove slowly down the Main Street where she bought the children ice-creams and saw that a few cafes had opened since she was here last.
Kopane, she realized, was no different to any small town. If you had good memories it was a good place. Bad memories, than it could be hell on earth.
Her mind flicked back to Jack and she wondered what was happening at 122 Seddon Road. She didn’t want to think. A dark shudder swept through her body.
“Come on,” she said. The kids were getting restless now. She should have taken them to a park, let them run around instead of taking off and doing her own sight seeing.
“Let's go and get Jack and Eric.”
They’d been outside barely a few minutes when the front door opened and Jack and Eric walked out.
Robyn climbed out of the driver’s seat, and waited. Jack paused a few minutes – she saw a flash of pale pink and khaki from his mother but there was no touching between the two. No hug. He came down the path and Robyn’s stomach lurched at the lack of expression on Jack’s face.
“Are you okay to drive?” he asked.
“Of course.” She climbed back in to the driver's seat.
Jack held the door open for Eric, helped him buckle up, then sat in the passenger’s side.
He was staring at the house, rubbing his chin with his thumb.
“Where to?” she asked.
He turned to her, met her gaze full on. She saw regret. She saw courage. She saw a shimmer of sadness. She saw acceptance.
He looked up at the beautiful, clear Kopane sky. “Let’s go home.”
Jack was silent on the plane, his expression contemplative, while the children, for all it was a short flight, fell asleep soon after the bumpy take off from the airstrip.
It seemed no time at all before the plane touched down back in Auckland at Ardmore aerodrome, and taxied along the runway.
Robyn watched Jack; wished he'd say something, tell her more about that hal
f hour with his family, until she couldn't keep her curiosity to herself any longer.
“Are you going to tell me what happened? Because I wish I’d never suggested you go.”
He shook his head. “Forget it.” His voice was strong but quiet. “Bringing Eric up to see them was the right thing to do. It was the right thing for me to do, to see for myself how they are.”
She felt some relief, but only marginally. “What did you talk about?”
He gave a careless shrug. “They complained about my siblings even though my sister Sharon was right in the room with them. She’d left her current squeeze and was there with all her family.”
“You mean she's living there?”
“Until she can find a new place, yeah.”
“How many children has she got?”
“Three. Two from the first guy and a baby from the guy she’s just left. The older ones are cute kids actually.”
“Is she a good mother?”
His lips tightened, then he shook his head. “She could be. I don’t know.” He swung around to face her, a resigned expression across his face. “There’s only so much you can do. You can give people money to fix up a house or help them out, but it doesn’t change who the people are if they don’t want to change.”
“You changed.”
“Did I?” There was a bitterness to his voice that stunned her.
“Yes. Of course you did. Look at you. Look at what you've got.”
“That’s just the external, Robyn. Money can buy a good house, better looks, designer clothes...”
“Then maybe you were never a bad person to begin with. You must have known that a lot of girls at Kopane High had a crush on you.”
He regarded her with a wry smile. “Exterior, Robyn.”
It was more than that, whether he wanted to believe it or not. She sat back in the seat and stared out at the hangars as they approached. But then, who had really known Jack Fletcher, had known what he was like behind closed doors. She was learning, and she was liked it. Too much.
“Well, external or internal,” she said, “I appreciate that you took us along with you. And I think it was good for Eric. I know I’m not related, and I’m nothing to do with it but —” She stopped then, wary of saying too much. Revealing too much.
“But what?” he pressed.
“I think your parents are completely undeserving of you.” She turned to face him. “That's all.”
He was staring at her strangely and she started to look away, muttered, “I just thought I’d mention it.”
Suddenly, he gripped her shoulder, and tilted her chin.
The touch of his finger on her chin sent shockwaves through her, shockwaves that nearly made her stop breathing. He looked at her for a moment, a long, bone-melting moment and bent his mouth to hers, and kissed her. A quick, warm, emotion filled kiss. It was so unexpected when he pulled away she just stared at him, her mind blank.
Then he dropped his hand away from her chin. “Thank you.”
She swallowed hard, unable to speak as the plane pulled to a halt on the tarmac.
He was undoing his seat belt now and instructing the children to do the same.
Robyn fumbled with hers, tried again, but couldn't manage it.
Jack had just kissed her.
Then suddenly his hands were on the metal buckle across her thighs, and he pulled it, slid it open.
His face was inches from hers.
“Thanks,” she managed to say.
His gaze slipped back to her lips then away.
“You're welcome,” he said as he opened the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
From the airport, Jack drove his car to the office while Robyn and the children took a taxi back to the house.
She had no idea what time he was planning to get home. After she and the children had eaten a roast dinner prepared by Mrs Parker, the kids had had quick showers, and gone to bed exhausted.
When they were asleep, Robyn went to her room, took a long, luxurious shower, then slipped into bed.
Not surprisingly, her thoughts and dreams were of Jack.
On that kiss.
On how incredibly sexy it had felt. There had been no demand, no sloppy first kiss feel to it. It had been brief and simple, and the more she replayed it in her mind the more it shook her.
Finally, she fell asleep but when she woke, her lips still tingled with the memory of it.
Disoriented, she glanced at her watch, and saw it had gone eight. How had she slept in?
She checked the children’s rooms but they weren't there. She flung on a dressing gown and ran down the stairs. The sound of TV reassured her, and she glanced into the TV room to find all three sprawled across the floor watching cartoons.
She left them alone, and padded through to the living area. Jack had apparently left early without lingering. A glass sat in the sink, the only sign he had stopped by here.
She sighed with relief. She didn’t have to look at him and pretend she was normal when she didn’t feel normal.
It was only a kiss for Pete's sake.
It wasn’t like they’d had sex. Kisses happened all the time.
Not between her and men like Jack Fletcher they didn't.
“It was only a kiss,” she muttered as she poured cereal into bowls and set spoons along the counter. “I've kissed men before. I was married for Pete's sake.”
She called out to the children, “Breakfast’s ready.”
Eric came running out first, pulled out the bar stool, and climbed up. The meeting with his grandparents yesterday appeared not to have fazed him in any way. He poured milk over his cereal and asked, “What are we doing today?”
James and Ruby raced each other out, Ruby's blanket around her shoulders.
After yesterday's flight, Robyn decided it had to be something quiet.
She poured cereal for the twins as they scrambled up on to the bar stools and she glanced out through the windows.
The weather forecast had predicted sunny spells and some rain. It was going to be a typical Auckland day; in other words, be prepared for all weather.
“You know, I haven't decided.” She poured herself some chocolate coated cereal, and filled it to the brim with milk as well.
“Why don’t you guys tell me what you want to do?”
Collette popped her head around the doorway and announced, “I’ve put a call through for you, Jack.”
He waved her away and continued to stare blindly at the proposal in front of him.
He could barely make out the print.
What had he been thinking when he'd leant over and kissed Robyn?
He couldn’t come up with an honest answer because something had gripped him. Something that had made sitting next to her not nearly enough.
She intrigued him, she fascinated him, she was a compelling combination of strong and soft. He’d been overcome by it all in the confined space of the Cessna. That’s all it was.
He turned the page to be greeted by another blurry mass of letters and numerals and his mind went back to his parents. They didn’t care about him but he saw enough to know that the circumstances they lived in were part of the reason.
He sighed heavily and buried his face in his palms. Recession had hit small towns like Kopane on a regular basis. There’d been factory closures and exercises in Government cost cutting and his father hadn’t been the only man with a violent streak that had kicked in when he was laid off from the timber mill. Ron Fletcher’s violence, however, was fuelled by alcohol, and a vicious streak that saw him relish pointing out flaws and shooting down any dream or ambition in his children. It just so happened that Jack was the vocal one, the one with dreams of doing something with his life, of getting away from Kopane.
Even his teachers seemed hell bent on pointing out his faults and God knows there were enough of them.
“The call’s from Canada, Jack,” Collette persisted.
Val. Calling him at work. That was new, when she had his cel
l. “I’ve got it. Thanks, Colette.” He switched over to speaker phone as he pickled up a pen and began to doodle. “Hey, it’s Jack.”
“Mr Fletcher?”
A male voice. Not Val. Jack tapped his pen on the desk top. “Yes, this is Jack Fletcher.”
He listened to a throat being cleared. “This is Howard Grey, of Carey Grey Associates in Toronto calling, Mr Fletcher.”
A pulse leapt in his neck and he dropped the pen. So this is what it had come to. Lawyers.
Oh, Val, you didn't have to do this.
“What can I do for you, Mr Grey.”
“This concerns Valerie Wright and her son Eric.”
Jack massaged his temples as frustration settled, and grew. So this was the whole thrust, right here. The fears he'd pushed aside, the suspicions and the gut feelings. Had it all been leading up to this?
He'd never figured Val for the litigious type, but then, he'd never known her all that well anyway. He pushed himself away from his desk, adrenaline ripping through him. “This is absurd. Val knows I’ll help out financially for Eric and she damn well ought to know that legal action isn’t the way to go about it.”
The lawyer hesitated a moment. “Mr Fletcher. This has nothing to do with legal action.”
Jack’s unease crystalized and he sat on the edge of his desk, his senses acutely attuned to Howard Grey. “Then just what the hell is this all about?” The office had grown stiflingly warm in spite of the air conditioning. He lifted the collar of his shirt where a trickle of sweat eased its way uncomfortably down his spine.
The lawyer cleared his throat again. “I’m sorry to have to advise you of this, Mr Fletcher. But last night at 8.23pm, Valerie Wright passed away.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Put your backpacks away then I’ll fix a snack,” Robyn told the children, ushering them in through the front door. She was tired and they were more so, but it had been a beautiful day, a perfect day. Even the downpour after lunch, a downpour which had lasted long minutes before the sun had burst out to dry up footpaths, had failed to impact on their fun. They’d driven up to Shakespear Regional Park, had walked along the beautiful beach with a view back to the city, marveled at the peacocks, and paddled and played on the sandy beach.