by Soraya Lane
‘Thank you.’
The relative quiet out here after the cacophony in the office was bliss.
Robbie sat on a nearby bench and swung his feet. Chase immediately knelt on the ground beside the bench and ‘broom-broomed’ his toy car around.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Fairhall, I wish I could help you. I have your card so if something comes up I’ll let you know immediately.’
Fairhall? That was it! She’d known she’d seen him before. She turned to confirm it anyway. Uh huh, her neighbour at the service counter had been none other than Aidan Fairhall, up-and-coming politician. He’d been travelling the country canvassing for support. He had hers.
He had a nice on-air manner too. No doubt it was all orchestrated as these things were, but he came across as intelligent and polite.
Polite shouldn’t be overrated. In her opinion there should be more of it. Especially in politics.
She watched him slump onto a neighbouring bench as the man with the manager badge pinned to his shirt strode away. His shoulders drooped and he dropped his head to his hands. He raked his hands through his hair and then suddenly froze. He glanced up at her—a long sidelong look from beneath his hand—and she swallowed, realising she’d been caught out staring at him twice now.
He straightened. Her heart did a crazy little thump-thump. She swallowed and shrugged. ‘I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m sorry.’
He smiled, but she sensed the strain behind it. ‘It looks as if you’ve had more luck.’
Her lips twisted. ‘Considering I booked this car over a month ago…’
He let out a breath, nodded. ‘It’d be very poor form if they cancelled it on you at this late date.’
‘But they’re not giving us the car we wanted,’ Robbie piped up.
She should’ve known he’d been listening. His dreamy expression lulled her every single time. ‘But it’s a better one,’ she said, because she didn’t want him to worry. Robbie had taken to worrying about everything.
‘We’re moving house,’ Chase declared, glancing up from his car. ‘All the way across the world!’
‘Country,’ she corrected.
Chase stared at her and then nodded. ‘Country,’ he repeated. ‘Can we move to the moon?’
‘Not this week.’ She grinned. Robbie and Chase—her darling boys—they made it all worthwhile.
‘It sounds exciting,’ Mr Fairhall said. He glanced at Robbie. ‘And if you’re in an even better car now that probably means your trip is going to be lucky too.’
She liked him then. Amid his own troubles he found the time to be nice to a couple of young boys—and not just nice but reassuring. If he hadn’t already won her vote he’d have had it now.
‘The plane strike seems to be turning the country on its head. I hope it ends soon so you can be where you need to be.’
He must have a crazy schedule. Actually—she rested one hand on a hip and surveyed him—maybe this would prove a blessing in disguise. He looked tired. A rest from the hurly-burly might do him the world of good.
His eyes darkened with some burden that would have to remain nameless because she had no intention of asking about it. ‘Rumour has it that things on that front are going to take…’ his shoulders sagged ‘…time.’
She winced.
‘Mrs Laverty?’ A man bounced out from behind the wheel of a white station wagon. ‘Your car.’
She nodded as he handed her the keys with a cheery, ‘Safe driving.’
‘Thank you.’
Mr Fairhall rose. ‘You boys have a great journey, okay?’ And as he spoke he lifted their backpacks into the back of the wagon.
‘Can I sit back here with the backpacks?’ Chase asked, climbing in beside them.
‘Most certainly not,’ she countered, lifting him out again. ‘Thank you,’ she said to Mr Fairhall as he closed the wagon.
‘Where are you going when the planes work again?’ Chase asked as Quinn ushered him around to the back seat.
‘Sydney.’
‘That’s near where we’re going,’ Robbie said. ‘We looked it up on the map.’ He pulled out the map he’d been keeping in his shorts pocket.
The swift glance her polite politician sent her then had her stomach tightening.
‘You’re going to Sydney?’
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. ‘A couple of hours north of Sydney.’
‘You wouldn’t consider…?’
He broke off, no doubt in response to the rictus of a smile that had frozen to her face.
‘No, of course not,’ he said softly, as if to himself.
The boys glanced from her to him and back again.
Darn it! This was supposed to be a family trip. This road trip was about giving the boys a holiday…with the opportunity to ask her whatever questions they wanted about this new life they were embarking upon. In a relaxed atmosphere. Another person—a stranger—would throw those dynamics out completely.
She made herself brisk. ‘C’mon, boys, in the car. Seat belts fastened, please.’
Aidan Fairhall nodded at her. ‘Safe trip.’
‘Thank you.’
Darn it. Darn it. Darn it.
He moved back to the bench. She stowed her handbag, made sure the kids had their seat belts fastened and then moved to the driver’s seat. She glanced at Mr Fairhall and bit her lip.
‘He wanted to come with us,’ Chase said.
Why did children have to be so perceptive when you didn’t want them to be and so obtuse when you did?
‘You always tell us we should help people when they need it,’ Robbie pointed out.
She turned in her seat and surveyed them both. ‘You’d like to invite Mr Fairhall along on our journey?’
Robbie stared back. ‘How’d you know his name?’
‘I’ve seen him on the television. He’s a politician.’
‘Would he come all the way with us?’
‘I’m not sure. As soon as the plane strike ends he might jump ship at any place that has an airport.’
‘He’s a nice man,’ Chase said.
She had a feeling Chase was right.
Robbie studied the object of their conjecture and then turned back. ‘He looks kinda sad.’
‘Yeah.’ She tried not to let those slumped shoulders pluck too hard at her. It was just… She knew exactly how that felt—the defeat, the worry and the helplessness.
‘It might make our trip luckier,’ Robbie said.
She couldn’t mistake the hope in his eyes. She bit her lip to stop from saying something rash. Her eldest son ached for a male role model and the knowledge cut at her. Not that she expected Aidan Fairhall to fill that role. Still…
She blew out a breath and wound down the passenger side window. ‘Mr Fairhall?’
He glanced up.
‘We’ve just had a family conference.’
He stood. He wasn’t terribly tall—he might be six feet—but he had a lean athletic body that moved with effortless grace. She watched him approach—stared as he approached—and her mouth started to dry and her heart started to pound. She tried to shake herself out from under the spell, only she found she’d frozen in position. She wished now she hadn’t called him over. With a superhuman effort she cleared her throat. ‘As we’re…uh…all headed in the same direction we thought if you would like a lift all or part of the way…’
He blinked. Hope lit his face, making it truly beautiful, firing his brown eyes with a light that made her swallow. They weren’t a boring brown, but a deep amber that brought to mind blazing hearth fires, fine brandies and rich caramel.
Then the light in those beautiful eyes faded and for some reason her heart sank too. Maybe it was the unspoken judgement she recognised in those deep amber depths. She sat back a little. She swallowed. ‘I’m not given to recklessness, Mr Fairhall. I recognised you and I like your public persona. I like your education policies more.’
His lips twisted but the darkness faded from his eyes. His fingers drummed against th
e roof of the car.
‘But, as I don’t actually know you, and if you do take us up on our very kind offer, I’ll be informing the manager of this car hire company that you’ll be accompanying us. I’ll also be ringing my aunt to tell her the same.’ He didn’t say anything. She shrugged and forced herself to add, ‘But if we can help you out in any way then we’d be happy to.’
‘Why would you do that?’
‘People should help each other out always,’ her earnest eldest son said.
‘And you looked sad,’ Chase added.
The light in those amazing eyes faded again, although the lips kept their smile.
Quinn rushed on. ‘Also, it’d be nice to share some of the driving…not to mention the fuel costs. I’m afraid it wouldn’t precisely be a free ride.’ She’d sensed that would go against the grain with him.
There was a long silence. Quinn kicked herself. ‘I’m sorry we have you at a disadvantage. I’m Quinn Laverty and these are my sons, Robbie and Chase.’ She fished her licence out and handed it to him as proof of both her identity and the fact she could drive. ‘If you decide to accompany us I’d want you to phone someone to let them know about your plans and who you’re travelling with.’
He handed the licence back to her. ‘I’m not given to recklessness either, Mrs Laverty.’
She didn’t bother correcting the Mrs. ‘Quinn,’ she said instead. As she had no intention of becoming romantically involved with any man, let alone a politician—dear God!—the Mrs provided her with another level of protection.
Not that she needed protection from unwanted suitors. She could squash them flat as easily as swatting bugs. But correcting that Mrs might give the wrong impression.
Aidan Fairhall was from her parents’ world and she had no intention of returning to that world. Ever.
She shuddered. Another long silence ensued. Eventually she cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry to hurry you, Mr Fairhall, but we’d really like to get going soon.’
* * *
Aidan’s gaze snapped to Quinn Laverty’s. ‘If it was just work commitments I wouldn’t dream of imposing on you like this.’ His father would hit the roof if he ever heard Aidan utter that sentiment. ‘But…’ He hesitated.
‘But?’
She had an unhurried way of speaking that was restful.
‘I have a family commitment I have to meet.’
‘Like I said, if we can help…’
She’d probably harangue him the entire way, pointing out all the flaws in his proposed policies, but… He had a sudden vision of his mother’s worn eyes. He nodded. The alternative was worse. He made his lips curve upwards even though the heaviness in his heart made that nearly impossible. ‘I will be forever in your debt. Thank you, I’d very much like to take you up on your very kind offer.’ He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and gestured the manager back over.
Quinn spoke to the manager.
Aidan rang his mother.
As he expected, she fretted at the news. ‘But you don’t even know this woman, darling, and it’s such a long way to drive. How do you know you’ll be safe?’
He tried to allay her fears. Not very successfully. Eventually he said, ‘If it will make you happier, I’ll remain in Perth until the plane strike is over.’ He had to grit his teeth as he said it. He had to remind himself there were a lot of reasons for her anxieties and apprehensions.
‘But you must be back in time for the party!’
Yes. He bit back a sigh. He must be back in time for the party. Still, it was a fortnight away.
‘Harvey thinks the industrial action will be protracted. He’s talking seven whole days. I can’t get a train or bus ticket out of the place or hire a car for the next week. Everything is booked solid.’
‘Oh, dear.’
He didn’t need to see her to know the way her hands fluttered about her throat. ‘This is my best option. As soon as the strike ends, I’ll make my way to the nearest airport and be home as soon as I can.’
‘Oh, dear.’
‘I really don’t think there’s anything to worry about, Mother.’ And movement of any kind beat kicking his heels in Perth.
There was a slight pause. ‘Of course you must do what you think best, darling.’
And thereby she absolved herself of any responsibility and placed it all squarely on Aidan’s shoulders. He tried not to bow under its weight. ‘I’ll call you this evening.’
He collected his overnight case and stowed it in the back. ‘You travel light,’ Quinn observed.
He slid into the passenger seat. ‘I was only supposed to be in Perth for a single night.’
She started the car up and eased it out of the car park and onto the road. ‘It’s a long way to come for just a day.’
‘Two days,’ he corrected. ‘And one night.’
He thought she might glance at him then, but she kept her eyes on the road. ‘I see you’re a man who knows how to make the most of his time.’
‘That’s me.’
Quinn Laverty had a blonde ponytail and wore a kind of crazy oversized tie-dyed dress that covered her to her ankles. She wasn’t exactly a flower power child, but there was something of the hippy about her.
The longer he stared at her, the more he wanted to keep staring. Crazy. He loosened his tie a fraction and turned to the boys. ‘Robbie and Chase, it’s great to meet you. Thank you for letting me share your journey.’
‘You’re welcome, Mr Fairhall,’ the elder, Robbie, said with perfect manners.
He could see the path set out for the boy now—school prefect, school captain, dux, university medal and then a high-powered job in the public service.
What a nightmare!
Only for you.
He pushed the thought away. ‘If it’s okay with your mother you can call me Aidan.’
Quinn glanced at him briefly. Her lips tilted up into an easy smile. ‘That’s okay with me.’
Ten minutes later they stopped at an unprepossessing house and loaded the back of the car with an assortment of boxes and suitcases. The backpacks moved onto the back seat with the boys. Aidan insisted on doing all the heavy lifting.
‘See you, Perth,’ Quinn said with a jaunty wave at the house.
Both boys waved too.
‘Can we play our Gameboys now?’ Chase asked.
‘You can.’
Both boys whooped and dived into their backpacks. She glanced at Aidan and rolled her eyes. ‘They were specially bought for the trip.’
Probably quite a financial outlay for a single mum. Not that he had any proof that she was single.
‘And the deal was that they weren’t allowed to play them until the trip itself started.’
Smart move. Those things would keep the boys occupied for hours, which, quite obviously, had been her plan. He settled back in his seat as the suburbs of Perth passed by one after the other. ‘I know the clerk back at the store called you Mrs Laverty, but I also notice you’re not wearing a wedding ring.’ He kept his tone neutral. He didn’t want her thinking he was judging her or condemning her in any way. ‘Are you married or single or…’
Her brows lifted. ‘Does it matter?’
He loosened his tie a tiny bit more. ‘Not at all. But some people get fixated on titles so I always like to get them straight.’
‘I prefer Ms.’
Which told him precisely nothing at all. When he met her gaze, she laughed. Sparkling green eyes momentarily dazzled him. ‘You first,’ she dared.
A question like that would normally have him sitting up straighter. Instead he found himself chuckling and relaxing back into his seat even more. ‘Single. Most definitely single. Never been married; hence, never been divorced and not currently in a relationship.’
‘Ditto,’ she said.
‘So, are you moving back home? Is Newcastle where you grew up?’
‘No.’
Her face shuttered closed—not completely but in a half-fan—and he bit back a sigh. False start number one
.
A moment’s silence ensued and then she turned to him with a smile that was too bright. ‘Is your campaign going well?’
He bit back a curse. Was that all people could think to converse with him about—his darn job? ‘Yes.’
Another moment’s silence. False start number two. For pity’s sake, he was good at small talk. He opened his mouth. He closed it again. The deep heaviness in his chest grew. Normally he could push it away, ignore it, but today it gave him no quarter. It was this stupid plane strike and the break in his routine. It had given him time to think.
Thinking wouldn’t help anything!
She glanced at him, her face sober, and he knew then that she was going to bring up the subject he most dreaded. He wanted to beg her not to, but years of good breeding prevented him.
‘How are you and your parents now, since your brother…?’
That was a different approach to most, but…The heaviness started to burn and ache. He rested his head back against his seat and tried to stop his lip from curling.
‘I’m sorry. Don’t answer that. It was a stupid thing to ask. Grieving in public must be harrowing. I just wanted to say I’m truly sorry for your loss, Aidan.’
The simple words with their innate sincerity touched him and the burn in his chest eased a fraction. ‘Thank you, Quinn.’
Two beats passed. Quinn shuffled in her seat a little and her ponytail bounced. ‘I’m moving to an olive farm.’
He straightened and turned to her. ‘An olive farm?’
‘Uh-huh.’ She kept her eyes on the road, but she was grinning. ‘I bet that’s not a sentence you hear every day, is it?’
‘It’s not a sentence I have ever heard uttered in my life.’
‘It’s probably not as startling as saying I was moving to an alpaca farm or going to work on a ferret breeding programme. But it’s only a degree or two behind.’
She’d made things good—or, at least, better—just like that. With one abrupt and startling admission. ‘What do you know about olives?’
She lifted her nose in the air. ‘I know that marinated olives on a cheese platter is one of life’s little pleasures.’
He laughed. She glanced at him and her eyes danced. ‘What about you; what do you know about olives?’
‘That they grow on trees. That they make olive oil. And that marinated olives on a cheese platter is one of life’s little pleasures.’