by Kilby, Joan
He gave a short laugh. “Okay, we’ll do it your way. We’ll change the subject. Are you going to make your deadline?”
“I’ll make up for lost time on the school term break.”
“Tuti and I are going to my family’s beach cottage on Phillip Island over the break. I’m going to teach her to surf.”
She shook her head at his abrupt change of subject. “Surf—are you kidding? She’s only six.”
“I was four when I first got on a boogie board. Of course I’ll keep her close to shore. Come with us.”
“I beg your pardon?” Surely she hadn’t heard that last bit correctly.
“Spend the holiday with us. You can do nothing but write. I’ll make all the meals. If you have time in the evening you can spend it with Tuti and me. Or just Tuti if you’re still mad at me.”
She stared. “Why?”
“Because Tuti would like it if you came. And because after all you’ve done for us I’d like to give something back. Consider it a writing retreat. You don’t even have to talk if you don’t want to.”
“I…I…”
“You see? You can’t think of a single reason why you can’t go.”
She had plenty of emotional reasons but voicing them would be admitting she had feelings for him. She searched for a logical reason she couldn’t go. Damned if she could think of one. “Didn’t you just take three weeks of holiday? How can you go away again so soon?”
“I have months of vacation time banked up. The district commissioner is badgering me to use it.” John opened her car door. “So I’ll take your answer as a yes.”
She was tempted. The beach cottage held so many good memories. It was where she and Riley had shared happy holidays with the Forster family when they were younger. Later, she and John first made love in the little bedroom at the back to the sound of the waves pounding on the shore.
But going away with him and Tuti would open the door for her and John to take their relationship to another stage. She wasn’t sure she was ready.
“I’ll think about it,” she promised as she started the engine. “And let you know.”
* * *
JOHN ENTERED THE police station through reception the following Tuesday morning just after seven o’clock. Paula had called him at home at six-thirty with the news that she’d arrested Nick Moresco and was bringing him in.
Patty, her headset askew in her mass of red curls, was fielding calls as fast as her fingers could push the buttons.
“What’s up?” John feigned ignorance, knowing Patty loved to be the source of information.
“They got Moresco.” Her blue eyes lit up as bright as the switchboard. “Summerside Police Department. How can I help you?” She redirected the call and returned to John. “He’s right here in the station. A ruddy drug lord. But he’s no ‘lord’ now. He’s looking mighty defeated.” With a satisfied grin, she fielded more calls.
Smiling, John punched his security code into the door and entered the inner offices. Uniformed night-duty officers milled around the bull pen with the day shift, reluctant to go home and miss the most excitement Summerside P.D. had seen in years.
Paula stood over her prisoner, a man in his early fifties with thinning dark hair going silver at the temples. His olive skin was pale and there was a cut on his right cheek. Handcuffs held his fine-boned wrists together. Paula kept one hand on the butt of her Smith & Wesson.
“Good work, Detective Henning,” John said to Paula. He glanced at Nick Moresco. “You’ll be transferred to Frankston P.D. as soon as the paperwork is complete. Their holding cells are just that little bit less comfortable.”
“Your officers have made a mistake,” Moresco said disdainfully. “I’ll sue for false arrest.”
Paula shook her head. “No mistake.”
“Manufacturing illegal substances, namely methamphetamine, dealing said substances, including to minors…” John ticked off the offenses. “This will be your second conviction. You won’t see the outside of prison for a good ten years or more.”
Moresco jerked at his handcuffs and muttered under his breath. John ignored him to speak to Riley. “I’d like to see you in my office.”
He headed down the corridor, feeling oddly flat. Which was wrong. His officers had captured a significant criminal, earning them and the station recognition. More importantly, the streets of his beloved village, and the wider community, were safer. And yet…
He gazed out the window of his office onto the main street, his thoughts going back to that part of his conversation with Katie about his job. She was right. He hadn’t found what he was looking for. Her insight surprised him. They hadn’t been friends for years, yet she somehow knew he felt unfulfilled.
Patty had left his mail on his desk. He leafed through the latest police newsletter. Flipping to the vacant positions, an ad caught his eye. What at first looked like a travel poster—white sand, turquoise water, palm trees—turned out to be an ad for a command posting in Tinman Island off the tropical north coast of Queensland. Tinman was a resort island on the Great Barrier Reef renowned for native wildlife, outdoor sports and surfing. There would be administrative duties but the successful applicant would also be on the ground, doing active police work. Just the sort of dream job he’d described to Katie.
Was this fate? From Tinman Island it was a short flight to Bali. He could make a fresh start, get out of his rut. And if Katie would come with him—
Katie hadn’t even accepted his invitation to the cottage. She would never leave her family, her teaching, the town she’d grown up in to move clear across the country. She tried to be adventurous but she wasn’t, not really. She was brave when she needed to be, but her idea of a good time was curling up with a book. That was okay with him. He liked that she was a homebody. Wherever she was felt like home. He would find it hard to leave Summerside because of her, even if they were never more than friends.
Except that he wanted more than friendship. He wanted her to be his wife and the mother of his children. She was quite simply, the love of his life. He could no longer kid himself. Without her he was rudderless and adrift.
Riley knocked on his open door. “Boss?”
John dragged his gaze away from the newsletter. “I’m taking off for a week to Phillip Island with Tuti.”
“Nice.” Riley sat and leaned forward, hands on his knees. “Good thing we got Moresco before you left.”
“Yes, it’s one less thing to worry about. I’ve already gone over a few things with Paula.” He shuffled papers, found the file folder he’d set aside and passed it to Riley. “This is a list of active cases and the officers assigned to them. You’ll be acting station chief while I’m gone.”
Riley’s eyebrows shot up. “Not Paula?”
“She’s got enough on her plate liaising with the task force on the Moresco case. Making the arrest is only the beginning.”
“Well, then, the other guys.” Riley ran a hand over his short dark hair. “Jackson, Crucek, Delinsky—even Stan Grant has more seniority than I do.”
“They’re not former Special Forces. You bring skills to policing they’ll never have.” John leaned back. “Have you thought about applying for detective?”
That brought a gleam to Riley’s dark eyes. “I have. Paula and I talked about it. But what about the budget cutbacks?”
“We’ve got a state election in two weeks with a good chance there’ll be a change of government. Who knows? We might even get the go-ahead to
expand the station. So, are you up for the challenge?”
Riley grinned. “Hell, yeah.”
“You’ve earned it.” John leaned back, the official portion of their conversation over. “Guess it’ll be a relief around your house now that Moresco’s under lock and key.”
“Paula and I will be able to get on with our lives. Set a date for the wedding, make a decision on where to live. To me it’s a no-brainer—my house now that I’m finished renovating it. But women these days don’t give up their independence easily.”
“Tell me about it.” John blew a gusty sigh. “I guess we shouldn’t complain since that’s part of what we like about them.”
Riley cocked his head. “Are you referring to anyone in particular?”
John hesitated. “I invited Katie to come to the beach house with Tuti and me.”
Riley’s eyebrows rose. “Did she say yes?”
“Not exactly. But she didn’t say no, either. She’s your sister. What do you suppose that means?”
Riley laughed. “You’re asking me? I guess I’d say she’s open to being convinced. Are you asking her so she can continue tutoring your daughter?”
“I just think she’s got a lot going on with the deadlines and her ankle slowing her down. I figured that I could take care of the day-to-day stuff for a couple of weeks and she could write and relax and spend time with Tuti. Maybe even have a little fun. I’m not going to push the schoolwork while we’re on holiday, though. Tuti’s only six. She needs a break.”
“So it’s nothing to do with you and Katie starting up again?”
John hesitated. This was a touchy subject with Riley. “Would that be a bad thing, in your view?”
Riley studied him gravely. “You know you’re my best mate.”
John nodded warily, sensing there was more coming.
“And if I had anything to say about it, you’d have been my brother-in-law years ago.” Riley looked down at his hands. “My mother died after refusing a third round of chemo.”
“I know. I’m sorry,” John murmured. “Her death was a hard one.”
No one understood just how hard it had been for John though, not even Riley and Katie. He’d been the unofficial third child of the Henning household, spending more time at their house than at his own. Mary Henning was more nurturing than his own mother, and she’d taken him under her wing like another of her own chicks. She’d fed him after school, helped with his homework, driven him and Riley to soccer practice when his mother was at work.
Watching the warm, vibrant woman waste away during her long battle with cancer had been almost as agonizing as if she were his own mother. But she wasn’t. With the focus of sympathy on the Henning kids no one had thought to help him through the grieving process.
“If I hadn’t been shipped off to Afghanistan when Katie got sick I’d have helped you try to talk sense into her about her treatment,” Riley went on.
“She’s so stubborn. I’m not sure she would have listened to you, either.”
“I forgave you the first time you left my sister in the lurch,” Riley continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “But if you were to hurt her a second time— Let’s just say, in the SAS they taught us to kill a man with our bare hands.” Riley met his gaze. He looked every inch the battle-hardened soldier who could, and would, take him apart if justified.
John accepted the threat as his due. He didn’t blame Riley but he’d never wanted to hurt Katie. “If I were lucky enough to have a second chance, I wouldn’t leave her again.”
“I tend to believe you. But how do you know?”
He would die himself before he walked away from Katie again. But he took Riley’s point. He knew. But actions, not words, convinced men like him and Riley and, more importantly, Katie. Not that he wanted to test his conviction by Katie getting sick.
Maybe asking her to go away with him was a mistake. Alone together in the evenings after Tuti had gone to bed there would only be one thing on his mind. If she wanted the same thing, if they made love—his body tightened at the thought—and then their relationship fell apart for any reason, she could still get hurt. Hell, he could get hurt, too, but that he could handle. What he couldn’t handle was being responsible for Katie’s pain. Not again.
“I just know.”
“All I’m saying, mate, is be careful with my sister.”
“You can count on me.”
John sat staring at the wall for a long time after Riley left. What if taking care of Katie meant leaving her alone? What if he couldn’t make her happy?
No, he could. Deep down, he believed they were meant to be together. This was his chance to step up. He would win her, no matter what it took. He wanted to be able to offer her something bigger than a week at the beach, although that would be a start. He wanted to give her a whole new life. Not because her life at present wasn’t good. But for the two of them to be together, maybe Summerside wasn’t the best place to live. Bad memories might be holding them back. With a fresh start things could be different.
He fished out the newsletter and went over the requirements again for the post on Tinman Island. Then he booted up his computer and began to update his résumé.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HER BRAIN WAS paralyzed. It had simply stopped functioning. Katie stared at the blank computer screen and tried not to panic. But she was stuck, blocked by a knotty problem in the story. Her fountain of creativity had dried up like a billabong in a ten-year drought.
On the desktop calendar her deadline was highlighted in screaming yellow. That usually got the juices flowing. Not today. Not yesterday, either. Or the day before. Had she burned out as a writer? Wasn’t it too soon for that? She’d only written one book. Why on earth had she agreed to a three-book contract, to be delivered in one year?
It didn’t help that she was having trouble sleeping. The past few nights, ever since Tuti’s birthday party, she’d tossed and turned, alternately reliving John’s kiss and going over in agonizing detail every word of his flirty exchange with Candice. Her imagination might be on the blink but her memory was working way too well. What if she hadn’t been at the party? Would he have been even friendlier to Candice? Paula said he wasn’t dating but maybe he’d simply been too busy with Tuti. The two kisses he’d shared with her wouldn’t mean much to a man who dispensed them all over town.
Katie couldn’t think about the party without remembering those awful, hateful words Alison had spewed at her. She understood the dynamic of a mother’s defense of her offspring. She’d seen plenty of that with the parents of her students. But she’d almost become a member of Alison’s family. She hated that there were bad feelings between them. Tuti could have been the link that drew them together, except that Alison was jealous of her relationship with her granddaughter. Surely that would change if Alison learned not to crowd Tuti.
Katie indulged in a little fantasy of joining John and Tuti and John’s parents at the beach cottage. She would be an intermediary between Alison and Tuti, bringing grandmother and granddaughter closer, and as a result, bring herself back in Alison’s good graces.
The fantasy became problematic when she mulled over the sleeping arrangements. She could easily see herself and John sharing a bedroom but not with Alison and Marty across the hall—
She shook her head back to reality. Alison and Marty weren’t going.
Should she go? She wasn’t usually this indecisive, but this simple getaway would throw her and John into intimate surrounding
s. Was that what she wanted? Were they ready?
Katie rose from her computer and walked over to the window. Old Mr. Neilson across the street was painting the trim on his redbrick house a bright peach. The man must be color-blind.
Hmm, could she use that in her story somehow? What if Monkey was color-blind? Except that she’d started thinking of Tuti as Monkey and from her drawings at school she knew Tuti loved color.
Tuti would be at the beach cottage. After she went to bed it would be just her and John… No TV. No internet. What would they do with their time? Perhaps a romantic glass of wine on the porch watching the sun sink into the ocean. Followed by cuddling on the couch in front of the wood-burning stove. And after that…
Oh, now she had ideas. Now her imagination was working.
The doorbell rang.
Paula stood on her porch holding a pizza box in one hand and a bottle of red wine in the other. As if on cue, Katie’s stomach rumbled.
“Did I dream you?” Katie stepped back to let her in.
“I know you only eat certified organic but we’ll sprinkle the pizza with chia seeds and call it health food.” Paula bustled straight through to the kitchen and set the food on the table. She gave Katie a critical once-over. “You’ve lost weight. So don’t tell me you don’t have time to eat or I’ll have to tie you down and force-feed you.”
“I’ll eat. And I’m not fussy tonight. I’m ready to gnaw my own arm off.” Katie got wineglasses down from the cupboard and opened the bottle while Paula got out plates. The smell of the pizza, Paula’s friendly banter…it was such a welcome relief from her lonely desperation that all at once she choked up, overwhelmed by a lack of sleep, anxiety and emotional overload. “Thank you for coming. I’ve been s-so—”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Paula drew her into a hug, stroking her back. “It’s going to be okay.”
Katie gulped and knuckled her wet eyes. “I know. Sorry—”
“Don’t apologize.” Paula pushed her into a chair and handed her a glass of wine. “You’ve been working too hard. And spending too much time by yourself. You lose perspective. I remember what that was like.”