True Blue

by Sasha Wasley

  Are you back in town?

  Free sighed and replied. I am. Want to catch up?

  I’ll be over just after six.

  Hmph. So much for having time with Finn tonight. And she would have to re-explain the whole imaginary-boyfriend debacle to Beth. Free went into the studio and escaped into her work. The Talbot Gorge painting was all but done. She still wasn’t completely happy with the sky. She frowned over it, dabbing paint here and there. She succeeded in making the sky a little richer but couldn’t get the blue quite right. She forced herself to stop in the end. If she didn’t stop now, she might ruin it. She stood back and tried to see it as one scene instead of a thousand strokes. If she squinted, she could just imagine it looked like Talbot Gorge.

  Free put her brush into the jar of turpentine and wiped her hands on an old towel. It was either perfect, or it sucked. She wasn’t sure which. The canvas would need a good month to dry before she finished it off with varnish. She placed it securely on the windowsill. Time to bid that piece of art farewell.

  Finn messaged her to say he would be home from work around 8 p.m., and Beth arrived at a few minutes past six. Free poured glasses of wine. She’d need one to get through this conversation.

  Beth accepted the glass and said a somewhat grim ‘Cheers’. She sipped and eyed Free. ‘Well?’

  Free struggled to keep her temper. ‘Beth, you do realise I’m an adult, don’t you?’

  Beth raised her eyebrows. ‘I just want to be sure you’re not making a big mistake. I care about you,’ she added.

  Although it sounded slightly defensive, Free could see the sincerity in her sister’s dark eyes. Free weakened. ‘I know you do. But honestly, I’m okay. Trust me.’

  ‘So, what’s the deal with Finn, then?’

  Once again, Free launched into the explanation. She was obliged to tell the story twice because Beth didn’t understand.

  ‘What about Phoebe?’ Beth said when Free was finished. ‘I thought you were friends.’

  ‘We are. I hope we are.’ She shot Beth a helpless look. ‘I don’t know. I really like him.’

  ‘You’d choose Finn over Phoebe, even though you’ve been friends with her a couple of years and only known him – what? A month or so?’

  Put that way, it sounded dreadfully cold-hearted. ‘Finn and Phoebe didn’t get very far. They only went on a couple of dates. They never even kissed. Maybe she won’t mind that I’m with him now.’ It didn’t ring true as she said it and Free sighed. ‘Look, I don’t want to lose Phoebe’s friendship, but this thing with Finn . . .’

  Beth waited.

  ‘He really gets me,’ Free attempted. ‘And I get him. I feel like I’m inside Finn’s head sometimes. Everything he thinks is right there in his face.’

  ‘I know you struggle to deal with people who lack integrity, or aren’t authentic about their feelings,’ said Beth, to Free’s surprise. ‘So I can understand how enticing it would be to meet someone who seems really genuine, but how can you be so sure about him? Some guys – some people – are bloody good at playing a part.’

  Beth looked so worried, so serious and sad, that Free wondered for the first time if Beth had ever been stung by such a person. Someone who’d played a part. Was that why Beth was adamant that Finn was out to trick Free?

  She made up her mind in an instant.

  ‘I want you to meet him.’

  Beth tipped her head. ‘Okay. When?’

  ‘Tonight.’

  ‘What, right now?’

  ‘No, but he’ll be home from work in . . .’ Free checked the time on her phone. ‘An hour and a half. Stay for dinner and you can meet him later.’

  Beth hesitated. ‘I’ve got a Chamber of Commerce networking meeting tonight. It starts at seven.’

  Free’s mind wandered to that unpleasant place – the place where Beth was close with the chamber, in the same way Aidan Hamilton’s mother was close with the chamber and pulling strings for her son. She forced her attention back to the present. ‘Come back when you’re finished, then.’

  ‘No,’ said Beth. ‘These networking things can go on for a few hours. I’ll meet him another time. Soon – this week.’

  Free nodded. ‘Yep. And then you’ll see exactly what I mean.’

  Fifteen minutes later, Beth departed. Free fidgeted around the house, waiting for Finn to get home. Why did Beth have to fill her head with problems? Free just wanted to enjoy Finn. Anyway, Beth couldn’t possibly be right about this. Finn wasn’t a player. But Beth was right about so many things in life . . .

  The moment she heard a car pull up, she raced out onto the porch. In the darkness of the street, Finn was saying goodbye to someone through the window of a police vehicle, a backpack clutched in his hand. When he turned and saw her, a smile broke across his face. Thank God for him being so readable. Free jumped down the porch steps and bounded into his arms, landing a solid kiss on his lips. Finn dropped his backpack and pulled her in tight, kissing her with just as much energy. He only drew back to examine her and stroke her hair away from her cheek.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about this all day,’ he said.

  Every last doubt evaporated. Behind him, Briggsy was staring from the driver’s seat of the vehicle. Free waved at the sergeant and turned back to the house, keeping hold of Finn’s hand as they climbed his porch steps.

  ‘Want to share dinner?’ he asked, unlocking the door.

  ‘Yes. I’ve got . . .’ She thought. ‘I’ve got eggs. And cheese. A quiche, maybe?’

  ‘I’ve got spinach, mushrooms and puff pastry.’

  ‘Perfect.’

  In fact, it turned out she only had a couple of eggs, but Finn had half a dozen more, so quiche was still a viable meal. She sighed as he sliced mushrooms in his kitchen, a little envious.

  ‘How are you so organised?’ she asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘With your shopping. You always seem to have so much stuff in your fridge.’

  Finn was amused. ‘I just go to the supermarket once a week.’

  ‘Once a week?’ Free shook her head. ‘I’m there every second day, and I still manage to forget half of what I need. Every single time.’

  ‘Do you use a list?’

  ‘Pfft. Of course not.’

  Finn cracked up. ‘Well, then, yeah, you’ll forget stuff.’

  ‘I should have been born during the Great Depression. Rationing. I can make amazing meals with just two or three ingredients.’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. Well, not always amazing. Sometimes pretty horrible, in fact. But still, I’ve survived this long.’ She gave him a proud nod, reaching over to pull the bowl of eggs and cream towards herself. She whisked it with a fork, trying to dispel her worries about what Beth thought.

  ‘My sister wants to meet you.’ The words spilled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

  Finn stopped slicing to look at her. ‘Which one?’

  ‘Beth.’

  ‘The doctor?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Finn resumed slicing. ‘Cool. That’d be good.’ He looked at her again and then put his knife down. ‘Are you okay about it?’

  Free stared down into the bowl of eggs, asking herself the same question. ‘Well, the thing is, when I bumped into you when you were on that date with Phoebe, it upset me. I went to Beth for support. Now she thinks you’re a scoundrel.’ It was a relief to admit the truth. She peeked at Finn’s face.

  His expression was somewhere between dismayed and entertained. ‘A scoundrel!’

  ‘Yeah. She’s been warning me off you.’

  Finn couldn’t help a laugh. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever had that sort of reputation before. This could be fun.’ But his laughter disappeared and he caught her eye. ‘You were really that sad when you thought I was into another girl?’

  She gave a lopsided shrug. Finn came around to her side of the bench to fold her in his arms. ‘I’m sorry. I hate that I hurt you.’

  ‘We both
had our wires crossed. We’ve uncrossed them. All good now.’ She gave him a quick smile.

  ‘Yeah, but it still hurt you. I hope you know it hurt me too. All I wanted from the moment I met you was to be with you. But “Max” was in the way. I was in hell over it, Free. And the fact that your boyfriend turned out to be imaginary doesn’t make the hell I was in any less real. It doesn’t make what you felt any less painful, either. It’s been a rocky road so far, this relationship.’

  His words made her heart get warm and tight again. ‘You’re right,’ she said, pressing her cheek to his chest. ‘But it’s also stranger than fiction. I’ve explained it all to Beth but I’m not sure she even believes me.’

  ‘With all due respect to your sister,’ said Finn, pulling away, ‘it’s not about her. Do you want this? Do you think it’s real – I mean, as real as it is for me?’

  Free nodded vigorously. ‘It’s just, I haven’t had this kind of relationship before.’ He clearly didn’t understand, so she elaborated. ‘Like, one where I felt this way about a guy.’

  Finn remained silent, his colour deepening. She pulled herself up onto the kitchen stool and fiddled with a pen lying on the bench.

  ‘The other guys were, well – I could take ’em or leave ’em. You know? They were good fun. Hot-looking dudes, and romantic, I guess – but I didn’t feel it. Not really. Not like this. This is a first for me.’

  He released a long breath. ‘I love your honesty.’

  She grimaced, not quite sure why her words were having such an impact. ‘Yeah, my brain-to-mouth circuit has no breaker.’

  ‘So what do you want to do about Beth?’

  ‘My plan is to introduce you properly so she’ll realise how far off the mark she is to suspect your motives.’

  ‘And if that doesn’t work?’

  Free frowned. ‘As soon as she meets you, she’ll see she’s been wrong.’

  Finn went back around to his side of the bench and resumed chopping, his face pensive. ‘I hope so, but if she doesn’t come to that conclusion, then what?’

  Free bit her thumbnail. ‘I don’t know. I’ll just have to tell her to butt out, I suppose.’ Did she honestly have the courage to do such a thing?

  ‘I don’t want to come between you and your sister,’ Finn said.

  Free shoved her concerns away, whisking concertedly. ‘Look, we don’t even need to worry about this, because as soon as she gets to know you, Beth will see how wonderful and genuine you are, and she’ll loathe herself for ever doubting me.’

  ‘When am I meeting her, then?’

  ‘Whenever you’re ready,’ said Free. ‘Do you have any evenings available this week? Or maybe Saturday morning?’

  ‘I can do Saturday morning.’ Finn paused to grab the pen off the bench and scrawled Meet Free’s sister on the coming Saturday of his calendar. Free looked on, shaking her head in admiration.

  ‘You really are organised. You’re, like, a total adult.’

  Finn thought that was hilarious. ‘I’m buying you a calendar,’ he said. ‘It will change your life.’

  She watched as he finished chopping mushrooms and moved on to rinsing spinach leaves. Look at him, cooking. Look at those intriguing eyes, that gorgeous smile. Look at that incredible body, those big shoulders, that strong back . . .

  ‘Finn.’

  He looked up. ‘Yes?’

  She pushed the bowl of eggs and cream back across the bench. ‘How hungry are you?’

  ‘Pretty hungry. Why?’

  ‘Because I was thinking maybe we could go to bed.’

  His eyes grew round.

  ‘Could you wait till later for your dinner?’ she asked, glancing over the ingredients spread across his kitchen bench. ‘Because if you can, there’s nothing in our way any more. No imaginary boyfriend, no girl you’re dating. It’s just you and me, and the front door’s locked, and if you’re able to wait till later for dinner, then we could just go right now . . .’ She waited hopefully.

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ His voice was hoarse. ‘Not at all hungry any more.’ He came around to her side of the bench.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asked.

  Finn stopped just centimetres from Free to give her an incredulous stare. ‘Are you for real? Of course I’m bloody sure!’

  He’d scooped her off the stool and taken her into the bedroom within moments.

  ‘You’re really strong, aren’t you?’ she breathed when she found herself on the bed, looking up at him with wide eyes.

  He lay down beside Free, his face close to hers. ‘I’m gentle when it’s needed.’

  She bit her lip. ‘You don’t – y’know – have to be too gentle.’

  His mouth tugged up at the corner and he closed the distance between them, his hand sliding up over her hip, his warm, soft lips pressing into her neck.

  He was gentle, achingly gentle, until Free begged him not to be gentle any more.

  Finn woke Free by stroking her shoulder, the morning sunlight peeping through his blind.

  ‘I didn’t think you could get more beautiful,’ he said when she squinted an eye open and smiled at him. ‘Then I saw you naked.’

  ‘Mmm,’ was all she could manage in reply. It was far too soon after waking up to speak.

  ‘I need to go to work but I didn’t want to leave without saying goodbye.’

  Free groaned. ‘Nooo. Don’t want you to go.’ Eyes still closed, she fumbled upwards and slipped an arm around his neck, attempting to hold him there.

  He chuckled, his breath warm on her skin. ‘I don’t want to go, either. I don’t chuck sickies but I have never been more tempted to take one than right now.’

  ‘Good idea,’ she mumbled. ‘You’re far too sick to work. You need to stay in bed all day.’

  ‘I wish.’ Finn came close to brush his lips against her cheek, then broke gently from her hold. ‘You stay here as long as you like. Just lock the door after you when you go home. Donald’s here and he’s had some breakfast. He’ll keep you company.’ She murmured and Finn hesitated at the door. ‘What’d you say?’

  ‘Not Donald. Max,’ she repeated, unable to keep her eyes open.

  He made a noise of amusement and left her to sleep.

  She woke properly just after ten, Max curled up against her back. For a while, Free simply lay in Finn’s bed and smiled, thinking about the night before. Finn was everything she’d imagined and a hell of a lot more. Reliving the way he’d touched her, the sight of him above her, beneath her, and all kinds of other ways, got her so heated up she wasn’t sure she’d make it through the day. He could not get home soon enough.

  However, having skipped dinner, Free’s stomach came to the rescue, reminding her it was time to eat. She got dressed and went to the kitchen. She could tidy up as a surprise for Finn – they’d left everything out on the kitchen bench when they headed for the bedroom last night. But when she got there, it was already tidy. She peeked into the fridge and saw he’d put all the prepared food in there, neatly covered with cling wrap. Even the bowl of whisked eggs.

  Impressive.

  Free let herself and Max out just as the postie was coming up her porch steps with a box in his arms.

  ‘Oh, awesome, my stuff!’ she said, locking Finn’s door behind her.

  ‘There’re two more boxes in the van,’ he told her.

  Ah – of course. She had Olly’s order as well. The postie helped her cart it all inside. Free made a coffee, forcing herself to hold off unpacking the goodies until she’d eaten a piece of toast. Then she dived in to explore her order.

  There was nothing quite like the unpacking of new art supplies. She didn’t want Olly to experience any disappointment, so she went through his entire order, ticking it all off. Bostons had never screwed up her deliveries before, but then, she didn’t normally order quite so much. She needn’t have worried. Everything was there, and they’d thrown in some freebies, as usual. She packed Olly’s stuff back up, dropping the bonus brushes and box of pastels into a cart
on. A quick shower later, she loaded the boxes into her car, gave her lucky china cat a stroke, and headed into town.

  Olly was busy with customers when she arrived at the gallery, so she took the boxes out the back and unloaded them all. She was struck by the set-up in his workshop once again: tubs screwed to the walls, huge shelving units and rows of hooks over troughs for hanging brushes and anything else wet. Even foldaway artwork drying racks. She eyed it all with envy as she unpacked. One day she would set up her own art space like this.

  Olly came in as she finished up. ‘Free, you bewdy,’ he exclaimed. ‘You put it all away for me, too?’

  She grinned. ‘I love your workshop, Olly. This is my idea of heaven.’

  He was wandering along his shelves and tubs, peering at his new supplies.

  ‘This is magic,’ he declared. ‘It’s like the bloody art fairies came.’

  Free gave a laugh of delight. ‘I loved doing this. Any time, seriously.’

  ‘Book it in, then,’ he answered. ‘Once a month. You come in, take stock, reorder, then deliver and restock my shelves.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Bloody oath, chick.’

  Free felt like she floated all the way home. This ordering work was brilliant. But more importantly, she had spent a heavenly night in bed with a man so wonderful she had never even imagined he might exist. Could life get any more perfect?

  She did some lesson planning, then browsed her phone gallery, reviewing photos from the weekend at the station, looking for a good one of the Herne River. She stumbled across one with a close shot of some horsehair stuck on barbed wire in sharp focus against a background of blurry green and red, the river a blue streak in the distance. Free couldn’t resist, and before she knew it, she’d started a new painting. This one was big – a landscape canvas over a metre wide that she’d had sitting there for months.