He carefully spooned out a mouthful, cupping a hand under it and blowing on it gently. He turned, closing the distance between them till their legs brushed, and raised the spoon to her mouth.
‘Is this hot enough for you?’
Hello!
The air was hot.
The room was hot.
The hairs up her bloody nose were hot.
The very question threatened to turn her body into liquid lava. Who cared about the stupid soup?
His eyes twinkled at her. ‘Go on, taste it.’
She parted her lips and he slid the spoon between them. That thick buttery pumpkin taste, creamy and wholesome, slipped over her tongue and down her throat. She licked her lips. It was the perfect temperature. It was the apartment that was the problem.
‘I think it’s done,’ she said and took a cautious step back.
Am I getting in over my head again?
He put his mouth where hers had been and took the remaining half sip. ‘I think you’re right.’
He turned off the stove and served up the soup.
They took their dinner to eat on the couch; and she caught Dan looking at the photo frames sitting on the cabinet by her television. There were three pictures in all. One of her and her parents, a Christmas photo that included them again with some of her other relatives and one of Lena and Robyn in Sydney on a trip they’d taken a couple of years earlier. The light-hearted expression he’d been wearing in the kitchen gradually faded under this unsubtle reminder of what he didn’t have. She swore under her breath but he heard and looked at her.
‘What?’
‘You were right.’ She sipped her soup. ‘You can’t hide anything from me any more.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he sighed. ‘It’s not your fault you had the perfect childhood.’
She snorted. ‘I wouldn’t say perfect. But it wasn’t unhappy.’ She didn’t like the whiteness around his mouth. ‘Dare I ask about yours?’
‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t abused or anything.’ He put his soup on the table and ran his palms down his knees. ‘Wasn’t loved either, but you must have guessed that by now.’
She thought back to his parents’ behaviour. ‘I wasn’t going to say anything, but it did strike me as odd that these people who nurtured you as a child could turn on you like they have. Especially when they appear to love Mark so much.’
‘Mark is their real child.’ Dan drew a weary hand across his forehead. ‘My mum was Dad’s first wife. She died.’
‘So,’ she said slowly, also putting her soup on the coffee table, ‘that woman in the courtroom is your stepmother.’
‘Since I was two. Really, she’s the only mother I’ve ever known. She tried. But I always knew she considered me an unfortunate remnant of my father’s past. I guess when Mark died she used it as ammunition to tip my father completely over to her point of view.’
‘Dan, that’s terrible.’
He shrugged. ‘It’s life.’
‘What did Mark think about all this?’
‘I don’t know; I never asked him. I hoped he didn’t notice. I loved Mark, maybe as much as the two of them did. He was the glue that kept us all together.’
She couldn’t help but wonder whether his family’s reliance on Mark had been the pressure that had crushed his spirit. She didn’t say it though – she didn’t want to layer any more theories on top of his possible suicide. Especially not one that in effect blamed Dan yet again.
His quiet voice, rough with tiredness and grief, interrupted her thoughts. ‘It’s okay. I’ve thought of that too.’
‘I’m sorry, I should be trying to take your mind off your family not encouraging you to dwell on it. Let’s talk about something else.’
He nodded, swinging his body round so one knee was bent up under him. He rested his elbow on the top of the couch and his head on his palm. ‘Let’s talk about you.’
Warmth infused her face. ‘What about me?’
‘Well, you know all about my family, tell me about yours.’
She chuckled. ‘Not much to tell. I’m one of two children. My parents are still together. They live on the outskirts of the city and are growing happily into their eccentric habits. Love ’em to bits.’ She shrugged. ‘My sister, Elle, is a bit of a free spirit. She lives in Melbourne. We’ve never been that close.’
‘That happens. I’m glad your parents are good to you though. Next question: how does a girl like you become an engineer anyway?’
She grabbed the pillow behind her back and threw it at him. ‘What do you mean a girl like me?’
He stuffed the pillow behind his back. ‘You know what I mean.’
She raised an eyebrow at him. ‘No, actually. I don’t.’
And then, in an unexpected move, he leaned forwards and pulled one of her feet out from under her. He pressed his thumbs deeply into her arch and she didn’t know whether to squeal or moan as delicious pain sent a shaft of relaxation straight up her leg. ‘Maybe it’s just because you’re young.’
‘I won’t always be,’ she said, struggling to keep her wits about her. ‘And stop avoiding the question.’
‘A girl like you. Hmmm. What did I mean?’ She thought he was teasing her, but also trying to figure it out. ‘Maybe I was thrown by your looks – no, wait: I’m not saying that’s fair,’ he protested, as she started to interrupt him. ‘I was wrong. Okay? Satisfied? But you must admit that you don’t have the same attitude as other engineers, male or female.’
She frowned. ‘I work very hard –’
‘Not that kind of attitude. I mean, you use your heart as much as your brain on the job. You organise social events, you take on board everybody’s opinions and I do mean everybody’s, and you let people see your . . . I don’t know . . . your enthusiasm. You’re like a really amazing preschool teacher – or a publicist or something. Engineers don’t talk like you do. I misjudged you because of that.’
‘Yes. You made it perfectly clear that you didn’t think I belonged on site.’
‘Well, you proved me wrong,’ he murmured, his gentle caressing moving up her leg.
She choked and lifted her chin. ‘I proved a lot of people wrong.’
‘Yes you did – and with such style too.’
This time she blushed, not quite knowing what to say. Had she really proven herself?
‘You’re not done yet, are you?’ he asked seriously.
His words made her think of her promise and of Kevin, and all the reasons why sitting there with him, her foot in his hand, was utterly ridiculous. ‘No,’ she swallowed hard. ‘Not yet.’
She pulled her foot back and tucked it away, putting her hand out imperiously for her cushion. ‘Give me my pillow back.’
‘Why?’
She rubbed behind her back and glared at him. ‘Because I need it.’
He pulled the spare pillow from behind him instead. Leaning forwards again, he passed the pillow over her head with both hands so that it came down behind her and she was cradled in the loop of his arms. They were nose to nose, so close she could register the individual eyelashes framing his deep cobalt eyes. Her heart rattled so loudly in her chest she was sure he must be able to hear it banging against her ribcage.
‘What’s wrong, Lena?’
She bit her lip, trying to quieten the train roaring through her head. ‘You don’t know me, Dan. I’m not who you think I am.’
‘You keep saying that,’ he whispered and closed the minute gap between them with the gentlest of kisses. His mouth sipped from hers and nudged insistently to deepen the kiss.
But his efforts were useless against the voices in her head.
You’re a fraud.
An engineer impersonator.
When he finds out the truth, he’ll never look at you the same way
again.
With a sharp intake of breath she pulled away and he dropped his forehead to hers. ‘I’m sorry, I said I’d never do that again, didn’t I?’
‘It’s okay.’ She tried to keep her voice light but couldn’t meet his eyes.
With a heavy sigh, he put both feet on the ground, so that he was sitting normally. With a soft expletive, he ran a hand through his hair. ‘I know you’re afraid, Lena. But so am I. These last few days with you . . . I just . . . It’s got me thinking.’
Her eyes widened. ‘About what?’
He turned his head to look at her again. ‘I don’t want to keep running any more. I don’t want to live like this.’
She let out a breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. ‘Dan, I –’
‘No listen,’ he urged her. ‘I need to fly back right after the case is finished because I took too much R and R in Karratha and –’
She cut him off. ‘But what if the verdict . . . What if you need some time out?’
He put a hand out to caress her cheek. ‘Don’t worry. I process misery best through work.’
She grimaced. ‘Guess I should have figured that out by now.’
‘When I get back to Cape Lambert, I’m going to hire a third party to host an arbitration for our project.’
‘A what?’
‘An arbitration. It’s when both sides get together to discuss their differences and settle on what each side can do to alleviate the problem.’
She blinked. ‘You mean like peace talks.’
His lips curled wryly. ‘In a manner of speaking. Workplace morale has dropped so low and is so unmanageable this time, especially by me, given I’m half the cause of it. I think we need this.’
‘I see.’
‘Maybe there’s a way to sort the boys out professionally. And perhaps then we could start seeing each other openly.’
If he had put his hand inside her chest and pulled out her heart, he couldn’t have affected her more deeply.
‘Dan, I can’t.’
A veil fell across his eyes. ‘Have I read you so wrong?’
‘Yes . . . no. You wouldn’t understand.’ She looked down in shame.
‘Then tell me.’ His hand covered hers.
Indecision gripped her. Should she throw caution to the wind? Put herself, Barnes Inc and indeed the whole project at risk with a frank admission to the client of all people? Should she abandon her promise for a feeling more real than anything she’d ever had with Kevin? Risk her heart and her career in one fatal confession? She wrung her hands instinctively, knowing that she was going to make the emotional decision rather than the rational one. Gulping in air, she looked up.
‘Dan, can you give me some time? I want to tell you – I do. But there’s just one thing I need to sort out first.’ She could feel her eyes filling with tears as she asked her next question. ‘Will you wait for me? Not too much longer, I promise.’
There was no hesitation in his steady gaze. ‘Of course.’ And he pulled her firmly into his arms, holding her tight. Nuzzling her face into his neck, she had never felt so happy or so anxious all at the same time before. It was like sitting on the fence between heaven and hell, one foot dangling in each realm.
She knew what she had to do. If she was going to make a full confession then she would do so with all the facts. Besides, it would be too brutal of her to lay all her problems on him now, when his brother’s trial verdict was just hours away.
They held each other for what seemed like hours and, before she knew what was happening, she was falling asleep. The warmth and safety of Dan’s arms and the exhausting nature of their day had finally caught up with her.
It was nearly morning when she woke up. She felt his body leave hers and a rug from the couch opposite sweep her limbs before he tucked it under her chin.
He was leaving.
She didn’t open her eyes, not wanting to make his parting awkward when it shouldn’t be. A rough chin and soft lips gently touched her forehead as a finger brushed her fringe away. His voice was barely a whisper. She almost didn’t hear the breathy flyaway line that was so quiet it was like a thought.
‘I love you . . . Madame Engineer.’
She lay there buzzing with adrenaline until the click of the front door closing finally allowed her to move.
Tossing off the covers she sat bolt upright and wrapped her arms around herself. Her heart faltered, fluttering against her ribcage. Chewing on her lower lip, she tossed her own thought out futilely, knowing he would never hear, just as she was never meant to hear his. I love you too . . . Bulldog.
The following morning saw Lena back at court – back in the reality of Dan’s situation. When she walked into the gallery and saw him sitting there, her chest tightened. His slight smile did nothing to reassure her, nor did his pale complexion. As she sat down next to him, she found it difficult not to fidget with suppressed emotions fighting for release.
I have to concentrate on the case not what was said last night.
What mattered now was Dan and how the verdict of this case would affect him. There was no room for anything else.
The closing statements given by each of the lawyers didn’t improve her mood. Both arguments were so strong. She couldn’t pick who the judge was going to side with. When Mr Carter got up to speak, his confidence seemed to shine in every word. He was sure of his stance.
He reminded everyone how inexperienced Mark had been and how reliant on the company he was for knowledge and supervision. He said the attendance of the graduate safety induction program should have been policed better and that Oswalds had serious communication problems. Lena watched Dan’s family in the front row, nodding along with every bullseye he made.
When Mr Carter finally addressed the question of suicide his tone was very dismissive. ‘There is no evidence to substantiate the claim. According to his doctor he had made a vast improvement over months of treatment and was not suicidal at all. His previously strained relationship with his wife was on the mend and he was ecstatic about the new baby. Hardly grounds for suicide.’
Lena had to admit his self-assurance made him hard to refute.
‘Your honour, statistically the most popular methods of taking one’s life are medication overdose, hanging and firearms. Yet here we have the hypothesis that Mark Hullog chose to kill himself in a log feeder of all things. Surely it would have been one of the most excruciatingly painful ways to die. I do not think that if Mark Hullog had in fact been suicidal, as my learned friend would suggest, he would have chosen this way to die.’
The judge acknowledged the end of Mr Carter’s speech, jotted down some notes and then lifted his eyes to the gallery. Lena searched for something in his expression – anything to tell her where his allegiance lay – but there was nothing there. She cast a glance at Dan, who very slightly shook his head. He didn’t have a clue either. The judge cleared his throat and addressed Sarah.
‘Ms Michaels, would you like to close?’
‘Yes, your honour.’
Sarah stood up, shuffling her papers as she rose. Her hands linked themselves behind her back and the hairs on Lena’s arms prickled with the suspense of waiting for her to speak. It seemed weird now that she’d ever been jealous of this woman. Sarah was more of a soldier in Dan’s army than a femme fatale. Her fears had been groundless. Foolish even.
Sarah finally spoke. ‘Your honour, perhaps the staff of Oswalds need to improve their communication lines as Mr Carter indicated. However, in this case it was not their lack of talking that killed Mark Hullog.’
She went on to describe Mark’s depression in detail, the drugs he was on, the therapy sessions he was committed to. She told the court how many times, statistically, doctors get it wrong and how stressful the prospect of unplanned parenthood could be. Lena thought her argument was just as
strong as Mr Carter’s. She looked at Dan, but he didn’t return her gaze. His attention was riveted on Sarah; he was intent upon her every word.
‘Daniel Hullog testified that Mark Hullog had a camera with him to take photographs of the foot of the machine and its foundation. There was absolutely no engineering motivation for him to go into the machine at all. He must have had a personal agenda. Couldn’t Mark Hullog, after seeing the danger signs and stickers on the machine and having been told in a safety video how dangerous it was, slipped away from his manager for what by all accounts was no more than five minutes to end his life? Quick and simple. No need for a note. No need for planning, or risk of failure. It wouldn’t even look like suicide. Perhaps he thought that his death in an accident would mean his wife and child would be financially secure. He could end it all there and then and this time no one could stop him. A tragic decision and yes, a dreadful loss – but no one’s fault but Mark Hullog’s own.’
‘Thank you, Ms Michaels.’ The judge inclined his head when Sarah resumed her seat. He arranged his notes into a pile and muttered something to his associate, who also nodded. When he faced the gallery again his voice was mild.
‘This court is adjourned until four o’clock this afternoon.’
Lena flicked her wrist over and looked at her watch. It was nearly lunchtime.
Dan saw the action and tugged her to her feet. ‘Let’s get out of here before my family decides to notice us.’
Lena didn’t blame him for his haste. Angela Hullog turned around to stare at them just at that moment. Dan’s parents on the other hand pretended they didn’t exist in a manner so obvious that it was just as insulting. Lena followed Dan out.
‘If I were you,’ she muttered when they were safely outside, ‘I wouldn’t worry about trying to reconcile with them. They’re not worth the pain.’
His mouth kicked up at the corners. ‘Well, I’m not pining for a friendship with Angela, if that’s what you’re worried about. But I do hope someday to reconcile things with my father. He is my dad after all.’
The Girl in Steel-Capped Boots Page 30