The Quilt

by Carlton, Rochelle

  He shrugged and waited for Joanne to respond. She stood chewing at her lip.

  “I guess I owe you an apology. I have been quite ungrateful and rude.”

  He laughed.

  “Yes, you have been incredibly rude and ungrateful but that isn’t important.”

  Joanne stood silently as Paul retrieved a pile of broken planks from the mussel encrusted rocks and examined the larger portion of the hull. She watched from under her long lashes as he effortlessly lifted the timbers and moved around Lucky Lady with the long strides of an athlete.

  “I am surprised that it is in such good condition. You have been lucky that the recent tides haven’t been high enough to reach her. But even though the mural is largely intact it is still going to be a big undertaking to restore. What do you intend to do with it?”

  Joanne felt relieved to be distracted by his question.

  “I have no idea. All I have planned at this stage is to try to stop any further damage or deterioration.”

  Paul picked up another plank and seemed to test it for weight. His arms coiled like ropes under the strain.

  “It is dry but the timber is still heavy.”

  ‘There is a well formed track up to the road. My own property is another two bays in the other direction but the gradient to the house is much steeper from the beach.”

  He indicated with his hands but seemed to be considering the options rather than asking for Joanne’s opinion.

  “We may have to disassemble some of the hull. But there is a possibility that six men could haul it as is, up to the road. There isn’t enough length to allow more of us the room to lift.”

  He seemed to suddenly make up his mind and turned to speak directly to Joanne.

  “Are you sure you want to take on this restoration. There are several pieces and many of them are damaged. You will have to find someone knowledgeable to help.”

  “The only other alternative is for me to let it rot away on the rocks.”

  She swallowed, biting back the sudden urge to cry. Paul glanced at the track and then his eyes settled on Joanne. A frown knitted his brows together and his expression became anxious.

  “As long as you realize what an undertaking this will be I can see no reason to allow it to rot away on the rocks.”

  Joanne visibly relaxed and he continued with an encouraging smile.

  “I think it is best to put the mural undercover until you decide what to do with it. Leaving it here is not an option. It will either be taken, saturated or vandalised. I have several sheds that you are more than welcome to use until you make alternative arrangements. Unless, of course, you do not want me to help.”

  Paul anticipated Joanne’s reaction and held up his hand before she could speak.

  “You have an alternative?”

  “I don’t have an alternative.”

  Joanne looked at him steadily. The unfathomable tension was broken by the abrupt ring of his mobile. Reluctantly Paul dropped his eyes and glanced at the screen.

  “Geoff. I was going to ring you in a few minutes. Is there any chance of getting a hand to lift that damaged boat hull from the beach and on to my trailer?”

  He laughed at the response on the other end of the phone. Joanne frowned.

  “Another five should be able to lift it. We may have to take it apart and transport her in smaller pieces.”

  Joanne walked to the water’s edge and waded bare foot into the tiny ripples. She could no longer distinguish Paul’s words over the gentle lapping of the water and the shrill cries of the sea birds. She allowed her toes to sink into the spongy surface of the sand and tried to imagine the tension washing away with the ebb and flow of water.

  “Joanne?” Paul stood behind her.

  “I am going to get the trailer. Would you like to come to the house for a cup of coffee or stay here?”

  She stood uncomfortably. Is it Paul or myself I don’t trust?

  “I would rather stay here if you don’t mind?”

  His mouth lifted in a lopsided grin but he made no effort to convince her to reconsider.

  “I’ll leave Jess here with you. She has an old ligament injury and has probably walked enough today. I am sure she would appreciate another swim though.”

  He pulled gently on the old dogs ears. Joanne watched fascinated by the depth of affection shown in this simple exchange. Paul commanded Jess to stay and nodded curtly to Joanne.

  “I will be back as quickly as I can.”

  He smiled but the warmth fell short of his eyes. Joanne sighed, was she really incapable of accepting help and friendship? She watched the broad back retreat down the beach covering the sandy expanse with long, confident strides.

  He had no way of knowing that she had existed on an emotional roller coaster for over a year. That she had been on a nightmare ride, an out of control ride careering away with her life while she hung on, nothing more than a helpless passenger. She now needed to take the time to heal and rebalance, to process what had happened and replot a way forward.

  She frowned at the distant figure that was now almost out of sight. This man couldn’t begin to understand the raw emotion that welled up every time he walked into her life. He couldn’t see the imaginary ghost that she willed to appear and keep him from confusing the way forward.

  Paul had now disappeared around the curve of the bay. Joanne stared at the deserted beach and an empty gnawing raked at her gut. She shuddered, a cold hand seemed to run down her spine despite the heat of the unrelenting sun. Today was the first time she had seen this serious man without Sandy’s tragedy hanging like a wall between them. She had been forced to acknowledge the intense attraction that pulsed with static electricity making her act like a surly defensive school girl. She needed to distance herself.

  She shook her head and expelled the uninvited images of the commanding man with glacial-coloured eyes.

  Jess appeared at her side. A long, smooth stick protruded from her mouth and her eyes looked up imploringly. She dropped the object at Joanne’s feet and wagged her wet, straggly tail. Absentmindedly, Joanne reached for the soft triangle shaped ears and pulled gently.

  “If I let him I think your master could really complicate things for me.”

  “I’m not an invalid you know.”

  Jean sounded furious, her voice was clipped with a tone Paul knew she reserved for disobedient children.

  Mari was pruning something in the garden while Jean stood idly beside her, frowning at a reprimand she had received for attempting to help.

  “You may well be if you don’t let that bone heal,” Mari retorted.

  They looked at Paul in unison.

  “I thought you were at Coastguard?”

  “No, I have been walking Jess on the beach.”

  He waited patiently for them to attempt to involve him in their squabble. When neither woman spoke he continued.

  “I have been speaking to the young lady involved in the recent channel accident.”

  As if synchronised the two women narrowed their eyes.

  “She is intending to retrieve the damaged hull and restore the mural. I have offered her dry storage until it is organized.”

  “I would think a memory like that is best left to perish.”

  Paul’s mouth had formed into grim determined line.

  “I really don’t think Joanne associates the mural with her friend’s death. I also don’t think it is our business to analyse her motivation.”

  Jean frowned at the dismissal and continued cautiously.

  “When are you planning to move the wreck?”

  Paul glanced down at his watch.

  “Geoff should almost be at the beach now.”

  There was an audible sigh from Mari. She had remained unusually silent during the exchange.

  “We will make sure there is something to eat and drink for anyone that is helping.”

  She turned and placed a firm hand on Jean’s shoulder before steering her towards the kitchen.

  Jo
anne’s laughter rung out with the quality of fine crystal. Paul stopped on the track and watched in fascination as she stood animated, devoid of the tension that he normally saw on her exquisite face. She was surrounded by five men and held them captivated with her words. Her hair had been released from its confines. Its natural honey colour glowed with the luminosity of specks of gold dust. Her face lit up with her laughter and even from a distance he could imagine the dancing mischief in her slate grey eyes.

  Chris Fenton edged closer, but his words were indistinguishable from where Paul stood silently observing. She laughed again and touched him briefly on his tanned muscular forearm. Paul frowned at the familiar gesture and focused on the group with an arctic stare.

  What the hell was the point of her mixed messages? Was this aloof woman playing some sort of game with unspoken rules that were a total mystery to him?

  Jess suddenly broke away from the group and greeted Paul. Joanne followed the old dog with her eyes and her features assembled themselves automatically into the familiar, unreadable and well-rehearsed mask.

  “Paul!”

  Geoff broke through the uncomfortable silence and extended his hand.

  “You saved me from one of Chloe’s moods.”

  “Glad I could assist.”

  Paul and Geoff fell into an easy conversation turning their backs to Joanne and walking over to the hull.

  “What the hell was that about?”

  Geoff raised a curious eyebrow and studied the tension that was clearly evident in Pauls jaw.

  “Don’t read too much into it, my friend.”

  “Do you want to know what Chloe thinks?”

  Paul turned to face Geoff and eyed him suspiciously.

  “No, I don’t. I have no interest whatsoever.”

  Heavy blankets protected the paint from the thick strops that were fastened to secure the remains of the boat to the trailer. It had taken almost two hours to assemble the scattered debris and transport the larger undamaged section of the hull up the steep and uneven track. The gruelling heat of the early afternoon sun bit into the sweat saturated bodies of the men as they stood surveying the wreck of the Lucky Lady.

  “Glen Forrester. The man that owns and runs the Main Street gallery would be your best bet. He’s an accomplished artist himself and paints on unusual surfaces. Always up for a challenge if you can keep him sober.”

  Paul glanced over to Joanne. She met his eyes and then looked away.

  “I think Mari and Jean are expecting you all at the vineyard.”

  Again the slate grey eyes questioned him. Intentionally, Paul focused on the mural.

  “We’ll follow you. I am sure no one here will turn down anything offered by the vineyard kitchen.”

  Unanimous agreement rippled through the men.

  Paul opened the sleek passenger door of the Range Rover and indicated for Joanne to get in. She radiated tension, her face nervous and her manner formal.

  “I promise I have no interest in biting you.”

  Not entirely true thought Paul but he was rewarded with a stiff smile.

  Joanne studied the masculine features as he expertly manoeuvred the large vehicle and trailer up the narrow steep road.

  “You live on a vineyard? That must be an idyllic lifestyle.”

  Paul’s mouth creased into an attractive smile but he remained focused on the road.

  “Yes, we are lucky to live on a vineyard and even more lucky to be able to live on this island.”

  We? Joanne felt an unwelcome sense of disappointment rise up in a wave to greet her. What did you expect, that a man that looks like this would be single? Flustered, she began to talk rapidly noticing with disgust that her voice now sounded like a slightly hysterical child.

  “If it isn’t convenient to store the mermaid I will arrange to have it picked up in the week or so? After we have unloaded would you mind dropping me off at the ferry? I should be able to catch the four o’clock sailing back to the city.”

  Paul’s eyes momentarily left the road. He looked at her anxiously.

  “Slow down! If it wasn’t convenient to store the hull for you I wouldn’t have offered. I am sure you will be able to catch the four o’clock ferry and that will give you plenty of time to see her unloaded and stored safely. We are at the vineyard now.”

  He turned off the road and on to Marinella’s long wide driveway.

  “What a beautiful property.”

  Joanne’s features relaxed as she admired the stone buildings and the formal symmetry of the plantings.

  “Is that a restaurant ahead?”

  “Yes, we are working on the final planning approval and then it will be ready to open.”

  Paul applied the handbrake and walked swiftly around the car to open her door.

  “Please accept my apology in advance.”

  A mysterious grin spread across his face and as if on cue two elderly women erupted from the huge heavy restaurant doors.

  “Are you apologising for them? They look so sweet, how could you say that?”

  Paul shook his head slowly.

  “Your mother?” Joanne asked.

  “Yes!” both elderly women replied in unison.

  The looked at each other and burst into loud riotous laughter. Paul’s eyes narrowed in a helpless glare.

  “Have you two been drinking?”

  He caste Joanne a long-suffering look but she was smiling sweetly and appeared to be enjoying his discomfort.

  Jean gathered enough self-control to walk over to the mural.

  “It is in good condition considering how long it’s been out in the weather. She must have been a very talented artist, was this a self-portrait?”

  “She was very talented. She just really didn’t know it.”

  Joanne smiled and a small flicker of sadness clouded her eyes. Jean put a hand gently on her arm.

  “I now understand why you would want to preserve the hull.”

  The conversation was interrupted by Geoff’s car as it pulled up behind the trailer followed by Chris and Bradley the local policeman. The men walked over and greeted Mari and Jean with an easy familiar hug.

  “Hey Clarke, where is a cold beer?”

  Chris winked at Joanne, his hazel eyes creasing suggestively.

  Paul stood up abruptly, his eyes were impossible to read but they were focused firmly on Chris.

  “Would you like a wine Joanne? Is there anything in particular you would prefer?”

  The glacial coloured eyes remained focused on the younger man who appeared to be shrinking silently into his chair.

  “Yes please, white and dry would be fine. I would love to try something from this vineyard if I could.”

  She looked anxiously at Paul and he reluctantly released Chris from the strangle hold of his eyes. Both Jean and Geoff seemed to visibly relax and the easy conversation resumed.

  “Marinella, translated it means of the sea doesn’t it?”

  “Yes!” gushed Mari, “you speak Italian?”

  “I spent some of my early childhood in Italy. But I haven’t kept it up so I am no longer able to speak fluently.”

  “I suppose you are going to say you are a chef?”

  Paul closed his eyes; he should have gagged the pair of them.

  “I thought you were a nurse?”

  She looked pointedly at Mari.

  “I can understand why people would think that. I did help care for Sandy during the course of her illness but only because she was my friend not because nursing was my vocation.”

  Joanne smiled kindly at the concerned faces staring at her from around the table.

  “I’m a lawyer although currently unemployed in that field. I specialise in family law.”

  Paul was a little taken back. He regarded the cool blonde with a new respect.

  Geoff was the first to leave followed by the other men. Again they paused to hug the two elderly women and politely thank them for their hospitality. Chris was reserved and formal. He glanced uneas
ily at Joanne and extended a conciliatory hand to Paul.

  “Would you mind showing me around?”

  Paul looked pointedly at his watch. The two women had left the table and could be heard arguing in the kitchen.

  “If you don’t want to, it’s fine.”

  Joanne smiled feeling uncomfortable under his scrutiny.

  “I don’t mind showing you around. I just find it surprizing that you would be interested.”

  A frown spread across her face and Joanne absentmindedly pushed a slice of pizza around the circumference of her plate. When she looked at Paul her eyes had taken on the quality of polished steel.

  “What I find surprizing is your hostility towards Chris.”

  Paul looked startled but regained his composure quickly.

  “Chris is a known womaniser.”

  “And you don’t think I am capable of looking after myself or are you questioning my ability to realize what he is?”

  Joanne’s eyes narrowed.

  “For that matter, do you really consider his interactions are any of your business?”

  Her voice had lowered and the words now had the quality of the hiss from a feral cat. She watched as Paul steadied his breathing. He was regarding her carefully with his intense eyes. No wonder Chris had shrunk away to a quivering mass on his chair.

  “I really don’t know what you are capable of Joanne. In honesty, I don’t know you at all. But you have been through enough recently and if it is in my power to protect you then that is what I will do.”

  He levelled his stare at her.

  “As I would an injured kitten.”

  “You don’t need to continually rescue me.”

  She bristled angrily. Ignoring her indignation Paul put his hand under Joanne’s elbow and gently guided her to the tasting room. Joanne hesitated at the entrance adjusting to the pleasant coolness that enveloped her.

  “Do you think we will ever have a normal, relaxed conversation?”

  She heard Paul exhale and turned to face him. He was leaning against the heavy frame of the door regarding her. He was uncomfortably close, tall, muscular and exuding confidence. A slight barely visible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Joanne felt her pulse quicken and the heat rise uninvited into her face. I need to distance myself from this man. I need to rebuild my life.