The Seduction of Suzanne

by Amelia Hart

  It was an old bungalow with a wraparound verandah, freshly painted and relaxed in the sun, framed by the huge pohutukawa tree that leaned in on one side, branches lightly tapping the roof. The tree was in full flower, a brilliant blaze of delicate red needles. Justin pulled the car up in front of the trim porch and she was out of it almost before he stopped.

  “Don’t get out. I won’t be a moment,” she called over her shoulder as she bounced up the steps and through the door she hadn’t locked. The house smelt faintly of the wholegrain bread she’d baked that morning. She washed her hands then grabbed the loaf off the counter and tore off a chunk, thrusting the rest in a plastic bag along with a knife and a plastic container of homemade hummus from the fridge. She ate the bread in her hand as she added a punnet of blueberries, two peaches, two plastic cups and a stainless steel drink bottle full of rainwater from her tap.

  She left the plastic bag by the front door and went back for a towel, wetsuit and the diving gear which was heaped casually on a chair in her front room. The tank was empty but she would refill it at Fitzroy. She also picked up the clever lasso gizmo she had bought from the fishing shop at Claris last week.

  Larry, who owned the shop, had pointed it out as soon as she came in.

  “Gidday Suzanne. Look what I’ve got for you, kiddo. It’s a lasso stick. See this loop. You put it around the head of the crayfish and you tighten the loop by pulling this bit here. Then you can haul them out and have a look without hurting them, make sure they’re the right size. If they’re a bit on the small side just let them go, no harm done. Perfect. You’ll love it!”

  And she had, enough to add it to her modest collection of fishing gear. Loaded up, she headed out the door. Justin was leaning against the front of the car but he immediately straightened and came towards her, ignoring her gesture trying to wave him off, and lifted the tank and bag of gear from her shoulders.

  She shrugged mentally to herself – she wasn’t about to fight him for it – and climbed back into her seat with her plastic bag. As he stowed her equipment in the back she put the bag between her feet and tore a hunk of bread off the loaf, spreading it thickly with hummus and holding it out to Justin as he slid in behind the wheel.

  “What’s this?” he enquired as he took it politely.

  “Homemade bread and hummus.” She had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes widen as he bit into it and started chewing.

  “Good God! That tastes amazing!”

  “Nothing quite like fresh,” she said with complacency. She was proud of her abilities in the kitchen. Certainly her father had been no cook. And her mother had left when she was ten so Suzanne had been in charge of meals for many years, even before her father died and left her alone.

  Justin inhaled the rest and held out his hand expectantly as he started the car. She put another chunk into it and got one for herself. As he drove she continued to feed him bread, then pieces of peach she cut off with the knife, and blueberries. She hadn’t considered the intimacy of feeding him when she started on the project. Maybe she should have waited until Fitzroy to eat. Every time his hand brushed hers she felt acutely self-conscious, aware of the contact all the way to her toes. But he kept his eyes on the road so she hoped he was oblivious to her heightened awareness of him.

  “How long have you lived in that house?”

  “All my life.”

  “It’s beautiful. Very peaceful. And much more private than Medlands.”

  “I love it. The birdsong in the morning is amazing. I couldn’t bear to live down on the beach. It’s lovely to spend the day there but when I head home I want something a bit more secluded.”

  “You don’t worry about living all alone in that isolation?”

  “I have neighbours fairly close. You can’t see them through the trees but I know they’re there. If I had an intruder I could bellow and someone would come running. Not that that is likely to happen on the island. An intruder I mean. I won’t say the crime rate is zero, but the local cops don’t have a lot to do.”

  He kept asking her casual questions, and she found herself gradually loosening up and telling him more about herself than she would usually tell a stranger. In fact she had to keep reminding herself he was a stranger. He had such an easy-going, warm nature it quickly began to feel like she was sharing the car with a friend. Twice she caught herself back from telling him something quite personal.

  But then she would look at him, at that perfectly chiselled profile and rippling golden hair and her stomach would churn with those same old warnings.

  Any man that gorgeous was bad news.

  Any visitor to the island would soon be gone.

  Only a foolish woman took risks with a person she barely knew.

  The trees and ponga ferns flashed by the car windows as they breasted the hill and started the drive down the winding road that led to Port Fitzroy. Several cars passed them, coming away from the port, and Suzanne wondered if the ferry was in. It would be a hassle filling her air tanks if the port was crowded. She should have done it after her last dive but she hated to lug them around full of air.

  Justin had fallen silent and she suddenly realised he had asked all the questions, so she had learnt nothing more about him. Not that she needed to know anything. She was perfectly happy for him to stay a closed book. Of course.

  The ferry was just pulling away as they came around the last bend. The pace of their car slowed to a crawl as Justin negotiated the parked cars lining one side of the road, and the departing cars on the other side. The exchange of passengers arriving and leaving the island had choked the narrow road, but they would soon disperse.

  Justin found a recently vacated space on the grass where the road levelled out, and pulled into it. Without hesitation Suzanne was around at the back to haul her gear out, but Justin was right behind her. He lifted her empty tanks from her hands and tucked them under one arm, his own tanks under the other arm and his backpack full of wetsuit, flippers and other things hanging from one shoulder. He made it look easy.

  She didn’t much like being helped – even a tiny sense of obligation was too much – but she was too dignified to growl at him. She slung her own bag on and led the way to the little booth offering air fills.

  “Hey Greg. Howzit?” she asked the lean, balding man behind the tiny desk. He raised his head from where he was frowning over a pile of dockets, and gave her a gap-toothed smile.

  “Good. Good. Box of birds. After a refill?” He looked Justin up and down with curiosity, his smile still spread over his weatherbeaten face.

  Following his gaze to Justin carrying her equipment so casually, she knew Greg would make the natural assumption they were coupled up. She drew in a quiet sigh as she imagined the gossip mill cranking into life over her. No doubt she would receive congratulations on bagging such a fine specimen and hauling him off to her bed. The ladies up at the Fitzroy Store – a hundred metres back up the hill – would giggle and tease. No way was she stopping on the way home to get her usual icecream-on-a-stick. It wasn’t worth it.

  “Yep. His are on a separate tab,” she said, flicking her head towards Justin.

  He didn’t say anything but his eyes twinkled an understanding glint at her. She looked away then let her feet wander the few metres to the water’s edge.

  Tiny wavelets lapped at the concrete boat ramp, cluttered with red needles and leaves from the overhanging pohutukawa trees that scrabbled their way out of the cliff. She stepped into the water and watched the debris part to make way for her feet, her rugged sandals soaked in an instant. It was warm on her ankles, heated by its slow crawl over the scorching stone and concrete.

  A tiny rubber dinghy puttered up, directed by a man in a white cloth fisherman’s hat fastened securely under his chin. He brought the nose of his little craft competently to land, then jumped out to lend a hand to his stouter companion. The woman in her beige linen trousers and sleeveless floral shirt wobbled precariously for a moment as she stood, caught herself and managed to
make the leap to dry ground. Suzanne stepped forward to grab the dinghy that was skating away, propelled by the woman’s back foot. She lifted it bodily out of the water by its handles – miniature outboard propellor and all – and put it to one side where others lay on the grass, awaiting their owners. They were tenders for some of the yachts moored in the sheltered bay.

  Suzanne waved away the man’s thanks with a: “No worries,” smiled briefly at the woman then turned back to the water, taking another step into it to feel it creep up her calves. She shoved her sunglasses a little further up her nose, glad of them with all the glare shining off the surface, then stooped to scoop up a handful of water to rub over her forearms for the coolness of it.

  “Hey Miss Turlin, you want anything to eat?” called out Kyle’s teenage son Tui from the top of the boat ramp. She turned with a smile. He had been in her class the first year she came back to the island to teach, and even though that was a couple of years ago now, old habits died hard and he still sometimes forgot to call her by her first name.

  “I’m good thanks. I ate on the way over. Ask Justin though. He might not have had enough.” The boy nodded his acknowledgement, turning and walking in one awkward motion that almost saw him stumble. He was thirteen and in the midst of a growth spurt, all big feet and flying elbows. He turned the hop into a loping trot over to the hamburger stall where Kyle stood waiting, chatting to Meihana who was taking orders today, her sister flipping burgers.

  Suzanne winced slightly. The girls were nowhere near as competent as their mother, who owned the stall. Suzanne’s last burger had been burnt and she hadn’t tried another.

  Although Suzanne was itching to get going, she had known from the moment back at Medlands when Kyle had mentioned getting a burger that this would be a leisurely trip and probably take them right into the evening. It would be a couple of hours before anyone was going underwater. She found a boulder to sit on, half in and half out of the water, and made herself comfortable.

  Ten minutes later the men and boys came to join her, sitting on the picnic bench a few feet away. She eyed Justin’s massive burger with a wry smile. Her bread and hummus had obviously been just a snack. It must take a lot of fuel to keep that big man running.

  They all chatted as they ate, the boys sucking and squelching their way through the overloaded burgers, trying to keep up with them as pieces drooped out of the sides and sauce splattered their hands and wrists. Justin did a tidier job, his large hands better for holding it all together. He ate with an efficiency Suzanne imagined he had learnt from many burger joints and fish-and-chip shops beachside.

  Once the informal meal was finished, Kyle sent Matai – his sixteen-year-old – out into the water to swim for the boat. The boy brought it up to the dock, steering with a self-conscious accuracy, and they passed him their diving gear then climbed down the ladder onto the boat.

  It was a basic craft, a west-coaster with a solid metal hull, double outboard propellers, a tiny head and no other private space. Benches ran the length of the boat and Suzanne lifted one to fish out the lifejacket she knew was inside.

  She fastened it then pulled out another for Justin, the largest one she could find. He took it from her hand, brushing his fingers lightly, deliberately over her own as he lifted it, looking at her steadily. She stepped away. Justin didn’t comment on the move, nor on the jacket’s faded orange material. It was sturdy enough to keep a man afloat, even if it wasn’t glamorous.

  Kyle set a slow pace out of the harbour and then through the channel. There were plenty of boats around to avoid. When Suzanne asked where they were headed he named a tiny islet some forty minutes away. That made sense. Things were a bit too crowded closer in at the moment with all the holiday-makers.

  Even out on the open water it was still relatively calm, the waves small. The speed of their travel created a breeze but it was easy enough to duck down out of it. When Justin came to sit next to her – too close! – she stiffened warily. But he didn’t say anything. Just closed his eyes, tilted his head back and enjoyed the sunshine.

  Kyle was steering, standing with legs spread at the front of the boat, his boys next to him holding the bar that ran along the top of the windscreen. With the wind ruffling their hair the image made her think of a pair of dogs with their heads out the window of a fast-moving car.

  They were paying her and Justin no attention at all. Sitting here so close in silence felt strangely intimate. But then everything felt that way with him. Maybe it was all her own self-consciousness and her awareness of him. His red shorts were sun-lightened almost to pastel, the hem laced with holes and frayed in sections. His shirt had more little holes along the edge of the sleeve. The clean, paper-thin fabric clung to him, following the indentations of muscles over his shoulders and upper arms. His bare forearms and legs were sprinkled with golden hair, the skin underneath healthily tanned.

  In the end it was she who spoke first.

  “Did you remember to put on some sunblock?”

  “I did,” he replied gravely without moving. “I learnt that lesson in my first couple of days here.”

  “I should probably put on some more, myself.” She reached out and hooked one of the handles of her bag, pulling it closer and fishing around inside for her budget-sized bottle of sunblock. As she sat back she saw he had cracked one eye open, and was watching her.

  “If you offer to lend me a hand again, so help me. . .” she trailed off direfully and he chortled and closed the eye.

  He might have murmured “at your service,” under his breath but she wasn’t prepared to swear to it so she pretended she heard nothing.

  She was smiling too. He might be too beautiful for his own good, but he was also surprisingly fun to be around.

  It was a great afternoon. At their destination they swam in to the miniscule beach and lounged on the hot sand for an hour before returning to the boat and donning diving gear. Kyle put out the diving flags and they took turns diving in pairs. It was no tropical reef or marine reserve, but there was plenty to see and Suzanne got to use her new lasso stick in a couple of small crevasses, detaching female crays from the harem of their mates and pulling them in. With the magnification of the water it was easy to make a mistake about their size, and wrestling them in the old-fashioned way could break off legs or antennae. She was very pleased to do no harm, returning her first one and putting her second in her dive bag before looking for scallops.

  Justin was a pleasant companion. With the mask distorting his face and no ability to talk underwater he was much less intimidating. She still felt the tingle when he reached out a hand to brush her shoulder to get her attention, still spent too much time mesmerised by his graceful power as he moved through the water.

  He was economical in his movements, drifting with the current and making the most of his oxygen like a seasoned diver. When she lent him her lasso stick he was fascinated, fiddled with it intently and then proceeded to catch three crayfish in a row. With exaggerated gestures he debated the relative merits of the larger two with her until she put her hands on her hips, waved a scolding finger, then took one off him and returned it to its crack in the rock. It streaked out of sight in the darkness. Again she found herself smiling around her regulator. Even if the finer points escaped their wordless exchange, she knew a clown when she saw one.

  Eventually it was time to go back to the boat, the climb up the tiny ladder as arduous as always with the return of weightiness and fingers chilled from long immersion. Suzanne heaved herself aboard, feeling like a landed fish, and wriggled out of her knee-length wetsuit. She was goose-bumped and shivering, her sun-warmed towel toasty against her cold skin.

  Huddled on one of the benches she watched Justin pull himself out of the water, making it look effortless. He was laughing at something Kyle had said, then reaching overboard to take flippers from the boys so they could follow him up the ladder. Anyone watching their relaxed interaction would think they had known each other for years. Obviously he had the knack of
making friends easily wherever he went.

  He looked over and saw her watching him, and gave her a slow smile that made her toes curl and spread warmth right through her. She looked down, blushing and self-conscious. He made her feel like a giddy teenager.

  Chapter Four

  Climbing back into the car and waving their farewells to Kyle and his sons as they shot past and away up the hill, Justin said:

  “I really like those guys. They’re such a lovely family.”

  “I like them too. Kyle’s wife, Marieka, is a real gem. She keeps those boys in line with a soft voice and an eagle eye. It’s something to see.”

  “This place is a cast of interesting characters.”

  “Escapees from the mainland, hiding out here in the bush away from everything.”

  “Is that what you are?” He drove past the Fitzroy Store without stopping, and Suzanne was glad the window was full of advertising signs so the ladies at the counter couldn’t see her cruise past in Justin’s flash car.

  “Who me? No, I was born and raised here, and never quite left.”

  “Never?”

  “I got my teaching certificate in Auckland so I had to be away then, but I came back soon after I finished studying.”

  “Couldn’t bear to leave?”

  “My dad had a heart attack. He needed someone to look after him while he waited for a transplant. I could do that and teach as well, and there was a vacancy at Okiwi school.”

  “That must have been a busy schedule.”

  “It kept me occupied.”

  “So you’re still looking after him? Or has he had the operation now?”

  “He died before they could find a donor. A year ago last November.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” He took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at her, his gaze full of compassion.