by Zana Bell
“Come with me,” Jake said curtly. “We’ll deal with the principal together.”
Then he could have bitten his tongue out. Those were the exact words his father had used. It was Sass’s fault for having put the idea in his head in the first place.
The interview didn’t take long. The principal reluctantly agreed not to press charges. He had intended to make an example of Brad, but when Jake pointed out that Brad could ill afford any more misdemeanors on his record, Mr. King finally conceded. He remained firm, however, on his decision to expel Brad. He was sure the school board would back him up. Jake was sure, too, and didn’t try to fight it. Instead, like his father before him, he thanked the principal for having given Brad an education, and requested thanks be passed on to the teachers, too. Then, side by side, they walked out of the school forever.
“It’s time you and I talked,” Jake said.
They went down to a café at the marina, where Jake ordered two Cokes, even though he was dying for a beer. What should he say? He felt out of his depth and suddenly wished Sass was with him. She seemed to have a knack with the boys.
Brad swung back on his chair, his head tipped at a belligerent angle. In a hard voice he asked, “Do you want me to pack my bags today?”
Jake was taken aback. “What?”
“Do you want me out today or is tomorrow soon enough?”
“You’re not going anywhere. I’m your guardian for the moment, whether you like it or not.”
“You don’t want me. Now you can get rid of me.”
Jake stared. “Is that what this is all about?”
“No.” But Brad wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Look, if you don’t want to be with me anymore, you just have to say so. You’re not a prisoner. You certainly didn’t need to get expelled just to get away.”
“It’s you who doesn’t want me.”
“Oh, for God’s sake! Just because I yelled at you?”
Brad stared at the ground, his mouth set in a mutinous line. Jake leaned forward over the table, resisting the impulse to grab the kid by the collar and shake some sense into him. “Listen, dumb-ass. Just because I yell at you doesn’t mean I don’t care. It means the opposite.”
Brad remained silent.
“I know we have problems, but Finlaysons don’t bail just because the going gets tough. And we sure as hell don’t ever turn our backs on one another, no matter how pissed off we get.”
“I’m not a Finlayson.”
Jake sat back in his chair. “In my books, as good as. Let me make this clear. You can leave of your own accord, fine. But there’ll always be a home for you at Aroha Bay.”
Brad laughed bitterly. “Yeah, right. As though you’ll be sticking around. You like to be free, hang loose. Life’s just one big competition, and at the moment me and the guys and Aroha Bay are it. But once you’ve beaten the Americans, the tern chicks have flown and the nationals are over, what are you going to do?”
For a second Jake couldn’t answer, unsure he still held the moral high ground. “This experiment was only ever short-term. They said they’d give it six months.”
“And then what?” Brad glared at him. “We go back to our families and live happily ever after?” His tone was jeering but Jake could see the betrayal in the boy’s eyes. He looked away.
Brad subsided back into his seat, his shoulders hunched forward as he noisily drained his glass through the straw, for all the world like an angry three-year-old. And, in some ways, as vulnerable. Brad hadn’t seen his parents in years and his experience of foster homes was screw up and move on. The twins at least had each other, and the frequent phone calls and regular weekend visits suggested that, when the time came, they’d be happy to go back to one parent or another. What about Paul? Jake had just assumed his dad would be well in a few months. But what if he wasn’t? Would Paul have to look after him? It would be far too big a responsibility for a fourteen-year-old.
Dammit, Brad was right. When he’d taken the boys on, Jake had thought it would be fun—guys hanging out together, the boys learning from him like some sort of goddamn guru. He hadn’t thought it would ever get to this stage. One thing was clear, though. He was the adult, he’d better start playing the role.
“Well,” he said to break the silence, “how about you tell me what happened.”
“You know what happened.”
“Yeah, well, tell me from your perspective.”
He thought Brad wasn’t going to say anything as he sat fiddling with the straw, so he waited. Sass liked to use this “silence” technique. Eventually Brad shrugged.
“It was nothing. I was bored. The car was there.” Then he looked up, his expression hard. “I’m not sorry.”
Jake rubbed his jaw with the back of his hand. “I didn’t think you were. It doesn’t matter, you know, about school. You can still be a top surfer—you’ve just got to commit. That’s why I get so frustrated with you. You’ve got to hunger for success to achieve it.”
Brad’s voice was very low as he said, “What if I don’t want it?”
“You don’t want to be champion surfer?” Jake couldn’t believe it.
“Why do I have to live your dream?”
There was a stunned silence, then Jake gave a shout of laughter. Brad’s expression turned to one of bewilderment.
“What are you laughing at?”
This just made Jake laugh harder. It must have been the release from the day’s tension, but once he started, he couldn’t stop. After a minute Brad grinned uncertainly.
“I don’t get it.”
“You’ve turned me into my father, you little bastard.”
That made Brad laugh, too, and the strain between them evaporated. When Jake at last regained his composure, he leaned forward and clinked glasses. “Welcome to the world of expulsion, and tell me what it is you really want to do.”
“I want to be a mechanic. Yeah, I know you can’t believe it, but some of us like engines—love engines.” He paused and looked out over the boats. Jake could see him debating whether to say something more.
“Okay. What else?”
“It would be cool to work on racing cars,” Brad mumbled. “Maybe become a racer myself.”
“I should have guessed.” Jake thought for a minute. “A friend of my dad owns a racing car. Would you like me to talk to him and see where we go from here?”
Hope lit Brad’s face. “You’d do that?” Then he looked suspicious. “Your old man won’t want to help a kid like me.”
“Like me, you mean,” Jake said. “Sure he would. He’ll moan and lecture and say I’m a crap guardian and that you’ve squandered the best opportunity you’ll ever have in your life, and then he’ll phone his mate. That’s just how he is.”
As he said that, Jake felt an unexpected surge of pride in his father. That really was how the crusty old guy did things. Now, watching Brad turn his back on a promising career, he finally understood how much he’d hurt his dad. And while Matt couldn’t resist sniping and interfering, he’d always had his sons’ backs. He’d given Jake the money to fly to Hawaii for his first international surfing comps.
Jake shoved his chair back and stood. “Come on, then, we’d better get going so that we can make those phone calls.”
“Really?”
Jake cuffed Brad across his ear. “Really, you dumb-ass. And know this, no matter where in the world I am, there’ll always be a floor you can sleep on. Got it?”
“Got it.” And Brad’s smile made Jake think having kids might be okay, after all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
WHEN SASS GOT HOME
she looked tired, but there was a quiet resolve about her that made Jake wonder what she’d been doing all day. There was no chance to ask, however, as a jubilant Brad buttonholed her immediately. “I’ve got a job! One of the mechanics in Whangarimu has agreed to let me work with him, and on weekends I can travel down to Auckland to hang out at the racetrack and help out a friend of Jake’s old man.�
�
“Really? That’s just great, Brad.” She looked genuinely pleased even though she, like Jake’s father, would no doubt have preferred he remain in school. After she’d changed, she returned to the kitchen to begin cooking, and Jake went to help her.
“What are you making?”
“Fajitas. Wow, Brad’s like a kid with the best Santa present ever. You’re looking pretty damned happy, too.”
Jake got a bottle of pinot gris out of the fridge and poured them both a glass. His early morning temper seemed a long time ago. Now he was just very happy to see her and wanted to talk about the day with her.
“I still don’t get how he can just turn his back on surfing but he says he only wants to do it for fun. Go figure.”
Jake handed Sass a glass and she took a sip. There was mischief in her eyes as she asked, “So was it hard for you Kiwi males to talk?”
He leaned back against the kitchen bench and thought how good this felt, chatting about the kids over making dinner. “Not as hard as I thought it might be. Once I started sounding like my father, I quite got into the swing of things.”
Sass picked up a knife and began chopping. “You sounded like your father?”
“Don’t laugh at me like that. It was the most horrible experience. I think I was even quoting him word for word at one stage. Worst of all, I began to understand him.”
“Jake Finlayson, I do declare you may be beginning to grow up, after all.” She turned and waited, eyebrow arched. “Go on, admit it now.”
He pretended ignorance, then relented. “Yes, you’re right. I’m like my old man for better or worse—worse, I suspect.”
She laughed and turned back to her chopping. “Come off it, Matt’s fine. He’s got charm and he’s very successful.”
“Yeah, but more than that, he’s loyal.”
There must have been something in his voice because she paused. “I realized today,” Jake went on, “that even though he must have been gutted when I rejected all he stood for, still he came up with the money to send me off on my ‘crazy schemes’ as he put it. I owe him. Not for the money. I repaid that as soon as I could. But I owe him in that I never once thought he’d ever throw me out. That’s what Brad was expecting. He thought I was going to make him pack his bags tonight.”
“Poor kid.”
“I explained that Finlaysons don’t do that. We stay together through thick and thin.”
Her chopping faltered, just for a second, and Jake could have kicked himself. How could he have forgotten her family seemed estranged from each other?
“So a mechanic, hey,” he said to cover the awkward moment as he got lettuce and tomatoes out of the fridge.
“Yeah, cool.” Sass’s voice was flat.
Better to attempt a change of subject altogether. “How was your work today?”
“Interesting.”
He wasn’t going to let her block him. He’d managed to talk things out with Brad; he could do it with Sass, too. Switching on the tap to rinse the leaves, he said, “Do you know that’s what you say when you’re ducking a subject?”
“No, do I?”
Jake crossed to her. “And now you’re going into your untouchable mode. That’s what you do when you don’t want me to know how you’re feeling. That’s what you were like when you came home. How you were this morning.”
“Really?” She flicked him a glance, her eyes guarded.
“Really.” He knew not to move into her space, so began chopping tomatoes on the other counter as she turned on the stove. “C’mon, Sass, don’t shut me out. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I’m thinking about dinner.”
He was determined not to let her duck out this time. “Sorry I hit a nerve talking about my family like that. I didn’t mean to.”
“No problem, my family is my own business.”
She turned the heat up so the oil began to hiss. Still Jake persisted. He’d been serious when he’d said it was all related. The key to her letting go had to lie here.
“So how did you guys fall apart?”
She was silent so long he thought she wasn’t going to answer. He could smell the spices she flung into the pan, and the chicken that followed shortly after. When she finally began speaking, Jake had to stop chopping so he could hear, her voice was so low.
“The last time we were together was Cole’s trial, the day he was sentenced. Mom was juiced, of course, and Adam was full of talk about busting his brother out—it was before he had the crap knocked out of him in his motorbike accident. None of us could get through to each other at all. Then I made Cole angry when I went to visit him by saying that this could be a great opportunity to finish his education. There he was, hating himself, hating the world, and he landed up hating me, too.
“Last time I visited, Mom had been drinking and just kept quoting poetry. I decided I didn’t need all this in my life. And Adam, he went away on his bike and never contacted me, not even when he had his accident. So there you are. The Finlaysons we are not.”
Jake crossed to where she was standing, her back to him and put his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. He didn’t know what to say. She stayed rigid. He kissed one of her ears.
“I told Brad that as far as we’re concerned, he’s a Finlayson now. There’s no way any of my family would ever turn him away. The same goes for you, too. You’re part of the whānau now, whether you like it or not.”
She turned in his arms and looked up into his face, troubled, and he wondered again what her work had been about today. She looked as if she was about to say something when Mike and Mark burst into the kitchen. They stopped short in the doorway and made retching noises.
“No wonder dinner’s late!” Mike said.
“Get a room—but finish cooking first.”
Sass laughed and broke out of Jake’s hold. “Go set the table,” she said. “Dinner’s in five.”
Jake returned to his salad. Must be all the court training, he thought, that made her able to mask her true feelings so swiftly.
AFTER DINNER, Jake settled down to his book. Sass had finished off what she could do to help him, and was now playing cards with the boys. There was a burst of laughter from the lounge and he glanced up. Through the half-open door, he could see them sitting cross-legged around the coffee table, playing five hundred. Sass was facing his direction, completely absorbed as she dealt the cards, then sorted her hand with deft decisiveness. Her expression gave nothing away.
The new game began and Jake pushed back his chair to get a better view. Sass gave no quarter as she quietly but efficiently scooped up the tricks.
“Oh, what? Have you won again?” Brad said in disgust. “We’ve got to step it up or she’ll annihilate us.”
Paul was bewildered. “But I had a good hand.”
Sass smiled, sympathetic yet brisk. “You played too rashly. I knew your hand after the first trick. Sorry.”
Paul shook his head. “How did you get to be so good?”
“By losing lots. That’s how life works. Your turn to shuffle, Mark.” She shoved the cards across to him.
Jake missed what Mark said, but everyone laughed. He watched Sass bring her chin up as she threw the miscreant a mock-warning glance.
“You watch your back, boy.” It was a great cowboy drawl. Her fair hair was pulled into a pony tail. The night was hot and she was wearing a tank top and shorts. She could have passed for sixteen. He thought about the black trousers she wore for business, the outrageous leggings for the Grease party. There was also the woman who, just over a week ago, had arrived in heels and a suit designed to intimidate. Then he thought of her lying stretched out and naked, impossibly beautiful.
Could she really be that many different types of woman or were some facades? If so, which were facades? He watched as she deadpanned her way to another win. She played her cards close to her chest and she played to win. He’d let himself forget far too much these past few days. He’d taken his eye momentarily off the ball
, but today with Brad he’d realized how important it was to honor commitments and see them through to the end. Sass was right to be putting space between them. Sleeping with the enemy had proved to be a really dumb idea.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THAT NIGHT
, they didn’t sleep together. As she left the house, Sass murmured something about being very tired, and Jake felt in no mood to follow. The feeling that she was up to something was stronger than ever, leaving him powerless and angry. His suspicions were confirmed the following morning when she announced she was going away for a few days, as there were things she wanted to check out. With her customary efficiency, she was gone within half an hour. The house seemed quieter without her. Which was stupid to say with four rambunctious teenagers about the place, but Jake could tell they missed her. Though they were vociferous in deriding his cooking, there was something generally lacking in the conversations over dinner. Sass had a way of drawing them out, finding out how their days had gone. Without her, they simply fell back into old patterns of good-natured abuse. When Jake tried asking them about school and work, he received either monosyllabic or mocking replies to his questions.
Then there was the disappearance of what Jake could only identify vaguely as the feminine touch. He insisted the boys keep to the routines she’d set up, but she had a way of doing small things like plumping cushions and filling jars with flowers that turned the house into a home. He even missed the smell of freshly ground coffee.
As for himself, Jake found he missed the companionship of their late-night hot drinks together. He missed her wit, their shared concern for the boys. He missed the sex—God, he missed the sex. But he missed small things, too, like the way she tucked her hair behind her ears as she got down to work. Her slow, Southern voice. Her twilight eyes.
The weekdays limped along slowly and on Friday Jake awoke at dawn after another crap night of broken sleep. What was the big deal, anyway? he wondered as he flipped onto his back. He’d got what he’d wanted—a few nights of, for him, great sex with a beautiful woman. So what if it was over?