Soft underwater illumination cast an airy shine under the spotless clear swimming pool water and small moths fluttered as they were helplessly drawn to the patio lights. The harbour had turned to a black inky mass reaching towards the twinkling lights of the houses on the mainland. A full moon shone its mellow glow on to small ripples and barely audible was the gentle sound of water playing across the coarse sand in the bay below.
“Want to go for a walk?”
Jess looked up from a huge luxurious sheepskin rug that sat on the floor in front of the fire place. She walked away and returned a few moments later with a comfortably worn leather lead.
“You are a very smart dog.” Joanne looked at Critter who was watching her with only vague interest, “you not so much.”
The track was steeper than she had imagined. It was narrow and difficult to navigate in the dull light of the moon. The bay below was tiny and curved. It nestled between two rocky outcrops with the coarse sand channelling through them and into the deeper water. At one end was a boatshed. Its doors hung haphazardly from rusting hinges and its once bright paint chipped sadly away from the worn woodwork. She ran a hand over the derelict structure. Summer beach holidays, small children and ice creams. It made her feel sad that someone’s memories were falling into disrepair.
A small buoy bobbed invitingly off the beach. Gingerly Joanne put her feet in the water. It pulled gently and then washed back again, bathing her skin in a gentle flow. The wine still warmed her body but her mind felt clear. She stripped off her clothes down to scanty lace panties and began to swim.
“I thought we were short on crew.”
Paul scowled at Chris who had shrunk away.
“Are you saying that I had to interrupt my evening for no reason?”
The younger man shrugged apologetically and continued to pull on his overalls. Paul made him nervous and for some reason his glare was more unsettling than normal.
“So I do not have to respond to any other call outs tonight?”
Geoff appeared and placed a firm hand on Paul’s shoulder.
“Go home Paul. We have this one.”
Joanne reached the buoy and clutched the surface. It was much further out than it had looked and her leg muscles were protesting by cramping painfully. She took one hand off the slippery surface and tried to massage away the knots that had formed in her calves. The beach was barely visible and the lights of the house above confirmed swimming this far had not been wise. She let her head fall back against the comforting curved surface and concentrated on the tiny pinpricks of stars that broke through the black velvet surface of the sky above.
“Joanne?”
What? A torch illuminated the beach. Its ray swung wildly probing the water and then settling on the buoy.
“What the hell are you doing out there?”
She blinked uncertainly at the raised disembodied voice. What am I doing out here? What the hell are you doing back? Paul’s question carried clearly in the night air.
“Are you alright? You are totally bloody irresponsible, haven’t you heard about the current in the channel? Wait there and I will come out.”
Joanne’s hand rose uselessly to cover her breast.
“Stop fussing and go and get a towel. I will swim back in.”
The torch had stilled and lay casting a tell-tale beam across the sand. This couldn’t be much more embarrassing.
Paul’s face was grim and furious by the time he reached Joanne. He eyed her angrily, taking a brief moment to regain his breath and she suspected his self-control.
“What the hell were you thinking?”
“I beg your pardon? What gives you the right to talk to me like that?”
He ignored her childish outburst.
“You scared the hell out of me. Your clothes are lying on the beach and there is an outgoing tide. Do you know how I would feel if I found you lifeless on the beach like...”
His words trailed off.
“Like Sandy?”
“Not just like Sandy.”
He shook his head.
“Joanne, that was irresponsible.”
“So you’ve said. Now just shut up will you.”
Paul ran his hand through his hair and scowled.
“Stay here while I swim back and get a kayak and some lifejackets. I mean it Joanne, stay here.”
Joanne pushed away from the safety of the buoy and began to slowly claw her way back to the beach. She glanced at Paul swimming beside her; his strokes were carefully measured and effortless. He was watching her progress carefully and smiled encouragement when he caught her eye.
“When you get tired turn over on your back and rest.”
Unlikely. She glared at him. That answers the question. No, we can’t go a day without arguing! How much further? Joanne’s breathing sounded laboured and the cramps had started again. She met Paul’s concerned eyes.
“Oh, piss off!”
Her voice sounded like a petulant child.
The gritty sand finally touched her feet and she slumped with exhaustion. Her treacherous body began to shake in waves, her legs felt like jelly. Paul wrapped his arms around Joanne and pulled her close against his body.
“Please, don’t ever do something like that again.”
I can’t look up. I can hear his fear. I feel foolish. I rest against his chest savouring and drawing from his reassuring strength. Safety and security envelope me. I feel him gently kissing my hair; his breath is warm and travels across my cheek.
“Like an injured kitten.”
I speak but my voice is a stranger’s.
“No, not at all like an injured kitten.”
His lips brush mine and then unexpectedly he pulls away. His eyes search my face. It will change everything. I feel I am on the edge of a cliff and my body is willing me to jump. I run my hands through the short coarse hairs on his chest, allowing my fingers to linger on the sculptured muscles that form bands across his flat stomach. He watches my progress as I trace slowly across the broad shoulders and explore his muscular arms. I linger on the numerous scars following their edges and raising my eyes to look at him from underneath my lashes. His skin feels soft, forbidden and contoured without the leather barrier that has protected me throughout the day. A delicious tightness knots under my ribs and travels like electricity through my spine.
“Are you sure?”
He looks wary.
“Yes, I am sure. Yes, I am stone cold sober and yes, I am on the pill.”
On the pill? Why did I feel the need to reassure him? For a moment I wonder if he will pull away but he finds my lips and this time there is urgency. The syrupy tepid water tugs at my legs as it flows hungrily across the sand and then, as if defeated, retreats. It feels erotic. It feels sensual. It over sensitises every nerve in my body. His hands run up my naked back causing me to arch with longing. He pauses and kisses me again, his tongue exploring the depths of my mouth, demanding, sculpturing, controlling. He moves to my breasts teasing, seeking, caressing until the awakened stranger inside utters a primal groan.
Unnoticed, he has guided me back to the sun warmed sand. I sink into the folds of a soft lavender scented towel and he lowers himself down beside me. In the soft light of the moon I stare at his face. It is tense with longing. His eyes are deep shadows in the weak light and his damp ruffled hair fails across his features. The stranger reaches up and pulls him towards me.
A puffy white cloud chases across the bright disk of the moon above me. I am nestled in the crook of Paul’s strong arm. He has circled me and we lie in silence. I wonder what he is thinking. I trace the deepest scar edge with my finger and wonder how any woman could mark a body as beautiful as this. I feel cherished, I feel like I have never felt before. I pull playfully at the hairs on his chest and he rolls over resting his head on his arm. His eyes search mine.
“I have to be the luckiest man on earth.”
He stands and holds out his hand to help me up. My legs protest. I wonder if it was caused by
the swim or making love to the man standing in front of me. We walk slowly back up the track and find Jess and Critter looking guilt ridden on the large sheepskin that sits in front of the fireplace. What would it be like to make love to Paul in the soft fibres of that rug? I imagine a fire blazing in the huge hearth. I giggle and feel ridiculous. I wonder where my panties are.
I wonder what happened to Joanne.
We shower and he rubs soft suds over my body. The driving jets of hot water sear my body and his gentle hands caress me until I groan, reawakened with longing. I explore the contours of his muscle and sinew. I watch the white lavender foam as it runs down his long body and pools at his feet.
Where to from here? I close my eyes, blocking out that cold reality, as we slide between crisp white sheets.
I know I woke during the night. I know I saw Paul’s handsome face watching me. I remember a ridiculous conversation and that he told me he wanted to imprint my features in his memory.
Now I wake alone. The soft weak rays of morning sun filter through the window. I reach across and find the bed is still warm from his body. I sniff at his pillow and smell salt, lavender and sandalwood. What have I done? My naked arm falls across my eyes and I find the stranger is vanishing.
I get up and shower. There is a smell of pancakes and fresh coffee coming from the kitchen. He is standing naked from the waist up. My treacherous eyes admire the now familiar man in front of me. His eyes look startling. He watches me and clouds form in their depths.
“No Joanne, not now. Don’t lock me out.”
A look of disappointment passes over his face. I stand, clutching my back pack and feeling foolish. I want to tell him it will work. But I know better. I am of no use to anyone else until I am of use to myself. I have to re-establish a ruined career; I have to work through the grief of losing Sandy, the trauma of watching the cancer eat away at her and the guilt of not being able to prevent her suicide. I have to learn to trust after the betrayal of my fiancé. How could I bring an already damaged man into my life, into my mess?
“I’m sorry.”
That is all I can manage. He turns off the stove.
“You’re sorry? I think we need to talk.”
I struggle to find the words.
“I studied for years to enable me to help people navigate their way through their relationship breakdowns.”
He is listening and I know he is trying to understand.
“In many cases the failed relationship started with the expectation that being in it would make one of the partner’s whole. It never works. You have to be complete before you ask someone else to invest in you.”
Stop looking at me like that!
“I have things I need to work through, by myself, and before I add any other complication.”
I fail to find the right words. His eyes spark with anger.
“A complication? Is that how you see this?”
“I don’t know how I see this. But I do know it is not the time for me to consider involving someone else in my life. I already have more than enough challenges dealing with both my past and my own future.”
His mouth has formed into that familiar thin line and his eyes reveal a strange mix of hurt and anger. I try again.
“Can you understand?”
“Joanne, no I really can’t understand. Is there anything I can say to make you feel differently?”
I shake my head hoping to convey certainty but fail and have to look down. I don’t want to see those blue eyes that probe me for answers.
“No.”
“This is what you want?”
“This is what I need.”
He nods slowly.
“I’ll drive you to the terminal.”
His voice sounds resigned. We drive to the ferry in silence. I am out of my depth and I know it. When we arrive the unreasonable stranger surfaces and unleashes her fury. I stalk out of the SUV slamming the door and dragging my bag and Critter with me. I know it is totally irrational but the only other alternative is to give way to the tears that pool in my eyes. I need to distance myself from this man.
On any other day Joanne would have enjoyed the short trip back to the city. The sun was reflecting off the oily surface and a gentle sea breeze laden with salt kissed against her skin. It went unnoticed. She moved uncomfortably on the plastic chair acutely aware her panties lay discarded on an isolated beach on Waiheke Island.
She reached for her phone and disturbed Critter who was lying on the deck regarding her with accusing eyes. Paul was trying to contact her. She looked at the screen and slowly shook her head. I can’t do this. Joanne walked to the railing and let the phone drop from her hand. She stood watching it as it was snatched away by the turbulent water. She was vaguely intrigued that it didn’t sink immediately and then, suddenly, it was gone. New home, new job, new telephone and along the way she hoped she would find the old Joanne.
Chapter 38
“Summer Is Ending”
The flat was small but clean. Unlike the villa it didn’t have the feeling of cancer permeating from the walls and it smelt of new paint and lemon-scented cleaners not detergent and ammonia. There was a low maintenance rock garden in the front lawn and a small well fenced grassed area at the rear. The kindly landlady had a soft round face and bright red cheeks and nose that indicated more than a passing interest in liquor. She enthusiastically reached for the bond money and handed Joanne the key.
“When would you like to move in?”
“Today. I haven’t got much to bring over.”
The soft round face blinked rapidly.
“Very well then. Ask if there is anything else you need.”
The woman retreated leaving Joanne to move in with her two suitcases, small dog and one large cardboard box.
I stand in the doorway. I feel scared, really scared. I try to look into the cold glass but tears mist my vision. Oh God help me. I stare at the handle, how can it look so threatening? I know once I reach for it there will be no going back. The rain is driving in. It hammers on the door like the fists that hammered me this evening. My hand travels across my features and I wince. I know my nose is broken. I explore the painful unfamiliar surface that lies flat and damaged on my bruised face. I am really scared and I hesitate. I go through my options once more. Please, there must be an answer that will keep us all safe? There is no answer. I have no telephone. I have no car. I have no money. I have no access to mail. I cannot involve my son until I know we will be protected.
I look back into the dim stinking interior of the Shearers Cottage. I imagine my son’s face as he looks horrified at the features of his mother tomorrow. I imagine his rage, a possible fight, a gun. I imagine him lying stone cold dead. Dead like his father. Another life ruined by Allan Clarke. James, please forgive me. I can’t keep our son safe any longer if I stay. Please keep us safe. I will get help. This afternoon I will take our son from school. I will take us both from the hell that is our life.
I look down at my twisted fingers. Angry purple glares from under the broken ruined nails. My swollen eyes focus on my white trousers. A shudder travels the length of my spine, settling in a pool of acid deep in my gut. “Don’t make yourself visible.” The words sit like lead in my head. What was I thinking? I glance around the shadows of the room. No movement. No noise. No time to change. I reach for the handle. I know it is now or never. Please protect me.
I urge my unwilling limbs to run as the thin cruel torrent of icy rain lashes against my ruined face. I am cold, I am so wet, why didn’t I think? Because I am scared, so scared. Run, please run!
“Chloe, for fuck’s sake, wake up!” Geoff is shaking me. His face is a mask of horror. I blink rapidly trying to surface from the deep cold dread that grips at my body. I am drenched. My mouth is dry and I lie in a tangle of sheets.
“Please, Chloe, wake up. Please don’t do this again.”
He is staring horrified. He grabs my shaking body and holds me tight.
“Please don’t do this again
, it scares me.”
Why did he wake me? I look back at my husband and see his fear. I want to tell him I am scared too. I want to tell him these dark deep visions take me into someone else’s hell. I want to tell him they also take those left behind by the violence out of the hell of the unknown they are living. I can feel their fear. I can live their answers. If only Geoff would let me.
Simon stood looking bewildered at the exit doors of the airport. Passengers spewed out behind him but he was motionless. He looked relaxed and tanned, his features softened by the three weeks of relaxation. A handsome dark haired young man pushed past. He then stopped and they exchanged an intimate smile. Joanne watches them, feeling like the intruder. Her friend, her support system has moved on.
Simon scans the crowd. His face split into a broad smile and he erupted enthusiastically through the rope barricade.
“Joanne!”
He grabbed her in an uncomfortable embrace, holding her back at arm’s length and then the smile fades.
“What the hell has happened to you?”
The small crowd that surrounds them move away uncomfortably. The dark haired stranger stands embarrassed and waiting to be introduced.
“You slept with him!”
Heat rushed to Joanne’s cheeks and she scowled at Simon angrily. Like ripples from a cast stone the small crowd moved even further away.
“Here are your keys. Find the car yourself!”
Joanne wheeled away and stormed out of the airport.
The taxi pulled up outside the flat and Joanne handed the driver the fare. He looked sympathetic; he had looked sympathetic every time she had met his eyes in the rear vision mirror. She wondered how long it took Simon to find the car in the crowded parking area. A small pang of guilt stabbed at her.
The fridge is virtually empty. She scanned the shelf and her eyes settled on a bottle of Marinella, sauvignon blanc. He is taunting her. She poured a glass, took a sip and opened her laptop. Nearly two weeks have passed since her visit to Waiheke Island and still he occupied her mind, intruding and teasing.
The Quilt Page 37