Vivian's Return

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  Paul recalled Vivien’s glance back at the office before she refused his lunch invitation and her concern for Jenny’s feelings last Saturday. He studied the top of Jenny’s head which was all he could see of her at this angle.

  She would have said something, surely? They’d been out perhaps five times over eighteen months. He had deliberately kept it low-key and noncommittal—he’d just not been ready for any sort of relationship beyond the most superficial kind. Jenny had never breathed a word that went beyond friendship, either.

  He headed for his desk and the paperwork he needed to clear before leaving for the afternoon. She would have said something, he reassured himself. There was no profit in remaining silent about feelings like that.

  If she had them.

  * * * * *

  Maria stood in front of the grand fireplace, holding center stage, while the rest of her family and Vivien sat in silent anticipation.

  The thought occurred to Paul that his mother was holding court. He had never seen her glowing like this, so full of excitement.

  Even her clothes were different. He swore he’d seen her wear all the garments before at one time or another but never in this combination. The skirt and shirt imparted a subtle sense of business but not the high-powered kind. The rest of the astonishing change in Maria’s appearance came from within her.

  She walked up and down the carpet in front of the fireplace, gesturing and speaking fast, her hard-won English grammar deserting her frequently.

  “I was wonderful!” she declared. “Faaab-u-lous,” she drawled, her accent making the imitation comical. “I went in there and he asked me to sit down and fill in the forms and I did, right there and then. ‘Here,’ I told him. ‘Finished, I am.’ I was fast. I could fill in all the spaces. No empty boxes!” She held up a finger. “Not a single one!”

  They had all heard this twice already but they all nodded dutifully, as Maria was plainly delighted with that small achievement.

  “The form when I was finished...she looked heavy. Dark. I handed it over and he said ‘thank you’ and ‘please sit down’. They brought me coffee. Me. He showed me into his office. I was so good! He asked me questions and I answered them and he listened. Very serious....” She threaded her fingers together, showing them how he had sat at the table. “He nodded when I was talking.”

  Paul had heard this before, too, so found himself concentrating more on the astonishing spectacle of his mother, radiant, demanding and getting their time and sole attention and striding up and down the carpet, giving them a blow-by-blow description of a job interview.

  Changes. Changes everywhere.

  He glanced at Vivien. She had come back to town and suddenly everything was changing and he would have to change to keep up with it all.

  “I was wonderful!” his mother declared again.

  Kathleen leaned forward. “Tell us, Mama Maria. We’re dying to know. You got the job?”

  Maria’s face lit up even more and she clapped her hands together, delighted. “No!” she declared happily.

  “No?” Carlos repeated, dumbfounded.

  “No, I don’t get job.” Maria flung her arms wide. “But I was marvelous!”

  Both Carlos and Kathleen sat, stunned.

  Paul found a subterranean laugh building up from inside him. He looked at Vivien. She was nodding her head, plainly delighted. She seemed to understand. Paul found his gaze drawn back to Carlos and Kathleen. Their astonishment was truly magnificent. The laugh came closer to the surface. Quickly, before it emerged, he stood and walked over to Maria and took her face in his hands. “You were marvelous,” he agreed and kissed her cheek. “I’m so proud of you.”

  Maria burst into happy tears.

  Paul hugged her, not minding the dampness soaking into his shirt. He glanced at Vivien, sitting quietly in her corner and her smile softened to one of silent support and shared delight.

  * * * * *

  Thursday began as a superficially normal routine but there were undercurrents running through it. Jenny behaved as if she was threatened, which Vivien tried to counteract by being extra nice to the girl, even though Jenny hadn’t extended anything more than shallow friendliness since they had met.

  Morris sat in his office, watching everyone move about the front office through the glass walls, a distracted frown puckering his forehead and a chewed and splintered pencil in his hands.

  Jack seemed vaguely puzzled and uncomfortable whenever he was in the office. It was as if he could feel the undercurrents too.

  Only Paul seemed oblivious.

  Most of Vivien’s observations and data for her report had been completed and the remainder of her assessment involved combing through the company’s relevant paperwork and old flying logs and interviews with the pilots, when they were available. She spent a lot of time at her desk.

  Paul reappeared in the office, unannounced and unexpectedly, throughout the day. Ostensibly he was checking in with Morris, coordinating jobs and seeing to the day-to-day running of the business, yet he always made a point of stopping off and talking to her. He would sit on the edge of her desk, propping himself up next to her and smile down at her and ask her how she was doing.

  The casual questions didn’t match the light in his eyes and Vivien was hard put to answer just his questions and not respond to that look. She would reply with desultory words, aware of Jenny sitting at her desk and Morris, behind her in his office with his crinkled eyes and alert mind, while her body tingled with suspense. Would Paul touch her this time? Would he reach out with one of his casual, sensual caresses and set fire to her skin?

  Vivien was quite sure he was restraining himself deliberately. She had suspected as much during her first week in Geraldton but then he had been suppressing his natural tendency to touch for different reasons. Now, she knew he was holding himself back, riding herd on his impulses simply to drive her to distraction. She could tell by the devilment in his eyes.

  It galled her that his strategy was working. Seven years ago, she hadn’t realized just how tactile their relationship had been. All her relationships since then had been shallow and disastrous and none of them had involved the same degree of contact. Because the relationships hadn’t been successful, Vivien had overlooked that missing element as being so important.

  Now she knew that she enjoyed it and counted it an important part of her relationship with Paul...and he wasn’t cooperating.

  Vivien had been spending her sleeping hours tossing fitfully in her borrowed bed, trying to banish a frustration that was more fundamental than simply a need for sex. She wanted to be touched and caressed and cuddled and held—Paul’s healthy, happy way of telling her how he felt. She wouldn’t allow her imagination to venture into the deeper realms of lovemaking—sleep was too shy a partner already.

  So she would toss and turn and curse Paul for the game he was playing with her. It was his gentle way of getting even with her for the part he must play in their bargain. She would go to the office each morning, feeling her control jittering apart a little more, knowing that events and emotions were building up toward a critical mass and when they reached that point, no one would have any say in the outcome at all. Events would take on a life of their own.

  That night she called on Maria. Maria was courageously trying to change her life at a time when most people were content to sit back and let the world go by. Vivien admired the woman immensely. Her interview the previous day had boosted Maria’s confidence a hundred-fold and she knew Maria would not need her support for much longer. She’d had a taste of the pleasure of success—even if that success was only in her own eyes—and would be able to work through her fears now.

  About thirty minutes or so after Vivien had settled down at the walnut table with Maria, she heard Paul make a clamorous entrance. He finally settled into the kitchen to fight over popcorn with the boys.

  After Vivien had been forced to pick up the threads of a fleeting thought three times, Maria had finally laid her blue-veined han
d on top of Vivien’s and held up her other fingers, waving Vivien to silence.

  Maria smiled. “He is a bad boy, no? For being a peacock in front of you.” Her smile broadened. “Paulo makes a lot of noise to let you know he is here. Then you know he is here and he knows you are here and then you will think of him all the time. And he knows it.”

  Vivien tried to suppress her smile. “I think I should ignore him. What do you think?”

  “I think you will pretend to ignore him.” Maria shrugged. “But it doesn’t fool anyone but him.” She laughed. “Before, you could not do it. But now—you are older. You know how to make him sweat. There are not many women in the world who can do that with my Paulo. I think it is a good thing you came back when you did. It is a very good thing for me. Also for Paulo. He needs to sweat a little. It will do his vanity much good.” Maria sighed. “He is too much like his father. He needs a strong woman.”

  “Me?” Vivien asked softly, surprised.

  Maria nodded. “You.”

  Vivien stared down at the glowing wood of the table. “Seven years ago, I wasn’t strong then. I had to run away. I didn’t stay to fight for what I needed.”

  Maria’s hand still lay on top of Vivien’s and the older woman patted her hand gently. “I know. It was right then. Paul is my son, so I know him well. Back then, he was too, you know, like the gallo? The bird. Man chook.”

  Vivien found herself silently laughing. “Too cocky?”

  Maria nodded. “Yes. Too cocky. Now, now he knows he can lose you. He knows that you are strong enough to walk away and he will never forget that.” She patted Vivien’s hand once more. “No more tonight. You go to Paul. I can do this now.”

  “You’re sure?” Vivien asked.

  “On Sunday, I was not sure. Now I am, thanks to you. So go. Go on.” Maria waved Vivien away and picked up her pen and returned to the exercise books she was using to sort out her life.

  Impulsively, Vivien kissed Maria’s soft cheek and hurried into the kitchen where she knew Paul was waiting for her.

  * * * * *

  There’d been no real reason for Paul to call in on Carlos. But he’d armed himself with fresh popcorn and gone anyway and laughed dryly at himself for even trying to pretend it was Carlos’ boys he was going to see. He knew Vivien would be there. Why be coy?

  The reluctance to declare his intentions openly came out of the fear he’d discovered at lunchtime—the fear that he would turn out to be not quite good enough for Vivien. His subconscious figured it was better to keep the fact that he wanted her hidden away. If he failed to win her, then he would not look a fool if no one knew he had been trying in the first place.

  But Kathleen had smiled when Paul handed the buckets of popcorn to the two boys and drew him into the family room. “Vivien is with Mama in the dining room but she shouldn’t be long.”

  Paul smothered the impulse to protest that he wasn’t here because of Vivien and allowed himself to be drawn into the pleasant room. Protesting would just be lying, after all.

  Carlos settled the boys down on the rug in front of the empty fireplace, to eat some of their popcorn before bedtime, then jerked his chin at Paul, a non-verbal demand to know what was going on.

  Paul shrugged awkwardly and Carlos just smiled and began talking about the number of crayfish tails he’d pulled with this morning’s trip.

  Carlos looked like their father, more so with each passing year. Sometimes the resemblance was so great that when he spoke without an accent, Paul was surprised. Carlos even had some of Lorenzo’s gestures.

  Both of them had developed their father’s strong family instincts. Lorenzo had worked tirelessly to protect and provide for his family. They were his priority in life, above and beyond anything else, including career and even, perhaps, personal happiness, if it had ever come to that dilemma. Much of his philosophy had rubbed off on his children. But the trait had emerged differently in all of them.

  Estelle had narrowed her focus down to her immediate family—husband and children—and was content to serve them alone. Carlos had lost a leg fishing but had persevered in that occupation because it provided so well for his family.

  How does it come out in me? Paul wondered.

  Kathleen fussed around him hospitably and settled him down with a long cold drink, then sat down herself, to work on a tapestry and keep the four boys at her feet from arguing too loudly.

  Vivien would never be like Kathleen.

  The thought was touched with a little sadness and Paul knew the sadness was prompted by the comparison of family instincts in his siblings. Kathleen was just like Mama, domestically oriented and happy to simply keep house for her family. Vivien would never be content with just house and hearth. She had too much drive for adventure in her veins.

  That is partly my fault. For he had met her when she was still forming her character, still figuring out what she was going to be and he had molded her to fit his lifestyle. Then he had told her “no more”.

  No wonder she had left him.

  That was where his family instincts emerged, of course. The protection and preservation of loved ones. Vivien. The need to prevent her breaking her neck.

  That was why he’d found rescue work so satisfying. It wasn’t the heroic stunts that thrilled him. It was the fulfillment of giving families back their loved ones. It was the quiet moments afterward, where the simple joy of life was appreciated for a while.

  Vivien walked into the room and her gaze fell on Paul immediately. She smiled at him, then walked over to where Carlos sat and perched on the arm of the sofa near him, which put her neatly between Carlos and Kathleen.

  Paul allowed himself the indulgence of simply watching her, enjoying her company. It was rather like a star-struck schoolboy watching his idol from afar but the unpleasant comparison did little more than make him grimace. He wasn’t about to stand up and leave—not while Vivien was in the room.

  She was talking to Carlos, not Kathleen, he realized and it was an echo of his thoughts of a moment before. A confirmation. They were talking about the spring tides and the effect on crayfish.

  It was a long way from recipes and dressmaking.

  After twenty minutes or so, Vivien stirred and stood up.

  “Time to go,” she declared.

  A dart of disappointment ran through him. Keep her near.

  As Vivien said good night to everyone, Paul moved up to her side and led her out to the front door. “Have you eaten?” he asked.

  “Kathleen insists, every night I’m here.”

  “Come down to the cappuccino strip for a coffee with me, then I’ll take you home.”

  Her expression was indecipherable. Paul couldn’t even guess if it boded good or ill. She shook her head. “Thank you, but no. I’m tired and I have work to do, if I’m to finish up tomorrow. Besides, I have my car here.”

  Stalemate. Paul nodded. “Then I guess it’s good night.”

  “Yes.” She smiled at him and surprised him by lifting herself up a little to touch her lips to his cheek. “Good night,” she murmured and her warm breath fluttered across his cheek.

  Paul balled his fists to stop himself from grabbing her arms and pulling her closer in a bid to immerse himself in the scent that washed over him. He could lose himself in that scent. It would be so easy....

  Suddenly she was gone. The front door shut behind her softly.

  His spirits flattened instantly.

  Annoyed with himself for the juvenile adoration, Paul stalked back into the family room, said good night abruptly and left.

  He could feel his anger growing, all the way home. A part of him wondered why. As he had been all week, he tried to push aside the old, habitual reactions to reach the kernel of truth that prompted them all.

  He recognized a growing anxiety. It was no longer simply a case of doubting he was worthy of her. Vivien’s casual reference to the morrow had tipped him over into a more desperate mood. Tomorrow was Friday. She would be returning to Canberra on Sunday
. Time was running out, and he had absolutely no idea of how to get Vivien back into his life. Flowers and wining and dining her wouldn’t work—she wasn’t like Jenny or Kathleen.

  Paul pounded the steering wheel angrily.

  Then he realized what else his anger signaled. Vivien might never sit down to embroidery with her children at her feet but he wanted her anyway.

  He’d had a hand in forming the Vivien that he found so admirable and unique today, but he’d built his own trap. How do you win the love and commitment of a woman who was like no other? He had no precedent, no guidelines.

  He didn’t know what to do.

  Chapter Twelve

  It was a peculiarity of a town the size of Geraldton that many people and businesses served dual roles. Fisherman turned to carpentry and other odd jobs during the off-season, tourist resorts catered to weddings and twenty-first birthday parties once the visitors had gone home. The hotel that catered to the rowdiest, roughest hard-core drinkers in town every night also happened to serve the best counter-lunch in the downtown area during the day.

  Morris took the entire office to the hotel for lunch on Friday. It was a long standing tradition that fostered a little camaraderie and team spirit. This time, however, the ranks were increased by two, for Jack and Vivien were both specifically invited to join them.

  The hotel was really just one large barn-like room, with a bar that jutted out into the middle like the prow of a boat, with the public bar on one side and the lounge bar where the counter-lunches were served on the other. There was no formal separation of the two areas beyond that. It wasn’t necessary, for the two disparate clienteles did not mix their drinking hours.

  Until today.

  Vivien eyed the four drunks holding up the bar on the other side of the room with a calculating eye. They looked like they’d been drinking for a few hours already. They were big, beefy-looking men, obese and with bloodshot eyes. The men didn’t stir at their arrival and Vivien allowed herself to relax a little. There was no sense in borrowing trouble.