Phoenix shook his head. “Why?”
“Would you like to come to my place…for coffee?”
“To Ella’s?”
“No. Home. I don’t want to be alone. The place has a great view of the ocean. We could spend time praying again for Uncle Jim. And you still owe me the story of your life.” Somehow she thought that would take more than five minutes to tell.
CHAPTER SIX
MELBOURNE MEMORIES.
From the jetty, Justin stared at the name painted in black cursive against a white background. He elbowed Ella. “When you said your home had a great view of the ocean, I never imagined you lived on a yacht. How big is she?”
“Forty-six feet.” The boat dipped a little lower into the water as Ella stepped onto the back. She climbed the steep stairs leading to a windowed cabin, waving to a neighbor several boats down. From the top step she glanced over her shoulder. “You coming?”
“Absolutely.” Guitar case first, Justin navigated the narrow steps. Once inside the cabin, he set the case down on the white leather dinette seats. It would be safe there—wasn’t like they were going out on the ocean where it could be tossed onto the floor. “Is this your yacht, or are you renting?”
“It’s mine. And you’re probably wondering how someone as young as me got to own this.”
Justin shook his head. A lie. Of course he wondered, but it would be rude to say so. She would tell him if she wanted. “Melbourne Memories. What’s the significance to the name?” He followed Ella up a second set of steps—far shorter but just as steep.
“My dad gave the yacht her name. Said we were going to make many memories around the waters of Melbourne. And we did. Mum, Dad and I.” Ella extended her arm and swept her hand through the air in an arc. “This is the flybridge.” Her hands settled on the back of the middle of three chairs, upholstered in the same white leather as the seats downstairs. It stood anchored in front of a steering wheel, a bunch of levers, screens, dials and controls behind it in the dashboard. “This was his chair.”
“Was?” He couldn’t let on he knew, that her uncle had told him his brother had passed away, although he had no details.
“My parents died four years ago.”
That likely explained her apparent wealth at such a young age. The coffee shop. The boat. An inheritance.
“I’m sorry.” He hated it when people said that about death. Two small words that seemed so superficial, lacking depth. And here he was doing the same thing, but what else could he say. “So who sails this monster for you?”
“I do. Daddy taught me to steer a boat when I was still a teen. Then he made certain I got all the certifications I needed for every seagoing vessel he ever owned.” She laughed. “I am the captain of my own ship. I’ll take you out into the bay sometime soon.”
“I’d like that.”
After a tour of Ella’s home with her spouting words like bow, stern, port, starboard, foredeck, aft, sunpads, staterooms, salon, galley, heads—which he discovered were merely toilets—Justin settled down outside on the foredeck. Seated cross-legged on one of the two white canvas sunpads, he gazed across the ocean and watched the sun heading for the horizon. The guitar, with its snow grouse and feather artwork on the fingerboard and pickguard, rested in his lap.
Billy.
The band members had named themselves with bird names—Hawk, Eagle, Nightingale. As band leader, he’d had first pick, and the honor of naming the band. And so, Phoenix and Rising Ashes were born. They’d laughed when Billy announced he was calling himself The Grouse—an ordinary, unattractive bird, for a lad bearing the same qualities. Nevertheless, there was nobody more talented on the drums than Billy.
Ella held out a glass of lemonade, drawing Justin from his musing.
“Homemade.”
He looked up at her and wrapped his fingers around the cold glass. “Thanks.” Ice cubes bobbed lazily in the cloudy liquid. He took a long drink before setting the half-empty glass down behind him.
Ella sat down on the other sunpad and stretched out her bronzed legs. They stood in contrast to the canvas mat. “Didn’t you say something earlier about serenading a woman?”
A smile teased Justin’s lips. “No. But I did say something about serenading a beautiful woman.” And so he would. Perhaps the ballad he’d composed would give her a glimpse into his life without him having to tell his story. But it would tell another tale, too. Was she ready to hear either?
He strummed the intro on his guitar, and then began to sing.
My life’s been a dream world, nothing that’s real
Spinning and turning, downward spiraling
I’ve given up the Snow White line
Because this Cat has reached life nine
Don’t wanna walk the Crystal lane
Just wanna toe the line with you
It’s true
So darling Ella, Ella, Ella
Please say you’ll be my Bella, Bella, Bella
You are the only one I wanna
Be addicted to
Woo-hoo
Goodbye Mary Jane and all your lies
And Lucy can keep her diamonds in the skies
Don’t want to have no Kitty Cat
How ’bout that?
You’re the only one who lifts me high
I’ll get by without each girl
Ella, you are my world
You’re my angel in the sky
You’re my addiction
Ella brushed her cheek then tucked her hair behind her ear. Eyes glistening, she glanced at him. “I— Are those past girlfriends? Or avid fans?”
Justin set the guitar down beside him then reached out and wrapped her hand in his, the canvas cool beneath his skin. “Neither.”
Her frown told him she knew nothing about the world he’d lived in.
He stared straight ahead, too afraid to look at her. “They’re some of the drugs I’ve been exposed to, tried, or been hooked on in my world of rock ’n roll. Marijuana, methamphetamine, ketamine, LSD, methcathinone, PCP, atropa Belladonna, and the one that almost killed me, cocaine.”
“Oh.” The single word was barely audible.
Turning to her, Justin placed his hand on her cheek and drew her gaze to him. “But I’m not like that anymore, Ella. I’m clean. Inside and out. Have been for months now. I’ll never go back to that life. Jesus has set me free. This phoenix flies with eagles’ wings.”
She glanced down. Drawing a deep breath she moved her gaze to look deep into his eyes. “You want to know something crazy?”
Dare he say ‘What?’
He nodded.
“I think I’m addicted to you, too.”
Ella’s breath hitched as Phoenix buried his fingers in her hair, drawing her closer until their mouths touched. Lightly at first. When Phoenix deepened their kiss, heat spread through her like a drug, as if she’d been injected with a vial called Passion, or Love, or whatever this feeling coursing through her was.
She allowed herself to be swept away by the rush of his kisses. Again and again and again. So this is how it felt to feed an addiction. She had to stop before they did something stupid and irreversible.
Pulling away, Ella rolled onto her back and gazed up at the stars from her sunpad. When had night fallen?
“Are you okay?”
She turned her head to see Phoenix tuck his arms behind his head, the muscles sculpting his arms moving his tattoos into slightly different shapes. Her eyes locked on his.
“I feel guilty. Here we are kissing, while my uncle’s fighting for his life.” Ella sat up and then pushed to her feet. “I should call Aunty Mary. See if there’s been more news.” She gazed down at Phoenix stretched the full length of the foredeck, toes touching the aluminum rails outlining the bow of Melbourne Memories. She ran a finger over her bottom lip—she’d just made a few glorious memories of her own. Everything in her fought to return to the spot beside him and make some more.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starvin
g.” He started to get up.
Ella held out her hand, palm facing him. “Stay here and enjoy the night sky, play some music for us while I make something to eat and call London.”
Phoenix sank back down, propping himself up on his tattooed arm. “All right. After dinner we can spend time praying for your uncle like we said we would—before we got, uh, distracted.” A smile lit his face drawing her attention once more to his lips.
Ella turned, resisting the urge to kiss him again.
The yacht dipped gently on the calm waters of the marina as she edged along the starboard side to the glass door then stepped inside. She took the two stairs down into the salon and retrieved her phone from the black granite counter top in the galley. No calls yet. What was taking so long? She dialed Uncle Jim’s number then opened the refrigerator, taking out a piece of salmon she’d bought yesterday. The phone went to voice mail.
“Aunty Mary. It’s Ella. Just calling to get an update on Uncle Jim. Please call me back or send a text message to let me know how he’s doing.”
She cut the call and set the phone back down on the counter. Phoenix’s smooth voice, combined with the strumming of his guitar, drifted on the air outside. A rendition of Silent Night. Different, but she liked it.
His earlier song penetrated her mind. So he’d taken drugs. To be expected, given who he was. He wasn’t that person any more. But what else had his song meant? That he’d fallen for her? The same feeling she’d felt when he kissed her swirled in her stomach, and the realization hit her. She was falling for him, too.
When Ella finished cooking a creamy salmon pasta dish, she plated their meals, poured more lemonade, and set it all down at the dinette table. She grabbed a candle from a nearby cupboard, placed it between the two plates and lit it.
Taking the steps up to the cabin, she called out the portside door. “Dinner’s ready.”
Phoenix’s song came to an abrupt end. He scuffled along the narrow edge of the boat, stopping in the cabin to put away his guitar.
When they’d finished eating, Ella moved their empty plates and glasses to the side of the table. She reached for his hands and took them in hers. “Thank you for staying with me.”
“It’s been my pleasure. I’m here any time you need me.” He leaned over and kissed her fingers.
“And thank you for giving me a glimpse into your world with that song, but—”
A frown crinkled his forehead. “But what?”
“I can’t help feeling there’s more you’re not telling me.”
Phoenix blew out a breath. “There is. But not tonight. I don’t want to spoil this day. Besides, we need to pray for Uncle Jim, and then I should get home. If you can tell me which bus or train to catch.”
Ella’s perfectly formed brows drew together. “Nonsense. I’ll drive you home.”
“Are you sure?”
She wasn’t. Not about taking him home, but about him leaving. If only he could stay longer. She had a perfectly good second stateroom. He could easily stay the night. But even though the rooms were at opposite ends of the yacht, that arrangement would be asking for trouble.
He would rather have taken the bus home. Now Ella would see where he lived. A far cry from all this. Justin looked around the luxurious salon. He could have competed once. Not now. Would she think less of him when she stopped her car outside that brown ramshackle two-story brick building?
Reaching over, he tucked her hair behind her ear then tipped her chin up, allowing his hand to linger. Now he could see her beautiful face better. And the worry lines that hadn’t been there earlier this afternoon. If he could only turn back the hands of time…he’d turn them further than this morning in London. Much further. To the month before his sixteenth birthday, when he asked his parents for a guitar. That was when his troubles began.
He smoothed a finger across her cheek. “I could stay, if you want.”
“No! I–I mean, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Ella, I know you’re worried about your uncle, and I understand what it’s like to feel bewildered and scared.” Been there too often. “But it’ll all turn out okay. God’s got this.” Now if he could convince himself.
A weighted sigh seeped from Ella’s lips. “I know.”
Justin rose. Taking Ella’s hand, he helped her out of her seat and took her in his arms. For several minutes he just held her tight. Finally, he kissed her head. “We should go. It’s getting late and we both have early mornings.”
The journey to his home in Footscray was quiet, each lost in their own thoughts and concerns. Perhaps in the dark she wouldn’t see how his neighborhood was. He scanned the area as they drove. Even though he hadn’t traveled this route in the dark before, he recognized the road past the dockyards, the tall glass building, and finally the Engineering Department of Victoria University. Almost there. He pointed to the right. “Three roads past that yellow ‘Paint Spot’ building. It’s the corner building on the left.”
Ella followed his directions then pulled her car to the curb. “You live here?” She leaned closer to him to get a better look out his window.
“I’d invite you up, but believe me, it looks as bad upstairs as it does outside.”
“Maybe I should’ve let you stay on the yacht.”
He leaned over to kiss her goodnight. “Maybe.”
“Listen, I’m working this weekend—”
“How about that? Me, too.”
“I guess I’ll see you in the coffee shop then?”
“That you will.” He trailed a finger across her cheek, her skin so soft.
Ella closed her eyes and breathed out a sigh. “What I wanted to say was, ‘would you like to have Christmas Eve dinner at my house?’”
“You mean your yacht?”
She smiled. “I’ve the afternoon off. We could set sail to the middle of Port Phillip Bay, drop anchor and spend the afternoon swimming—in between cooking our Christmas dinner, of course.”
“I’d like that very much.” His lips brushed hers.
Ella didn’t wait for him to deepen the kiss. She took the initiative herself.
If only he didn’t have to tell her the truth. But the sooner he did the better. Once Christmas was over.
CHAPTER SEVEN
PORT PHILLIP BAY BECKONED, their names written all over its calm aquamarine surface. Seated in the right-hand captain’s chair beside Ella, Justin watched, fascinated, as she steered Melbourne Memories out of St. Kilda Marina and into open waters. Several boat owners had the same idea. Didn’t matter. There was plenty of bay for them all.
He swung his chair around to watch as the Melbourne city skyline slowly became a picture of gray-blue rectangular blocks in varying sizes on the horizon. Finally, all he could see around them was water, with one or two other yachts in the distance.
Ella cut the engine. “This is a good spot to drop anchor.” She hit a button then swiveled her chair to him and smiled. “There, no one but you and me and the bright blue sea.”
“You’re amazing.” Justin leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. She slid on the leather seat as he pulled her toward him and into his kiss. “I’ve wanted to do that since Thursday.” They hadn’t spent time together except for a cup of coffee in the mornings. Six days between kisses was far too long.
“And I’ve wanted you to do that again since then.” She trailed her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry we haven’t been able to see each other. Every day has been busier, and I was exhausted by the time I locked up. I didn’t see you around in the afternoons, either.”
He hadn’t wanted to hover outside Ella’s at closing time. Besides, the wait was worth it.
“It’s all right. I don’t think I’ve looked forward to Christmas this much since I was a child.”
Ella laughed. “Me either.”
She rose and made her way down the steps to the galley.
Justin followed.
The cherrywood galley was as good as the kitchens in the fi
nest London apartments—just smaller.
Ella spoke over her shoulder as she turned toward the refrigerator. “I thought we’d get the turkey roasting in the oven—”
“We have a turkey for the two of us?”
Her lips pouted. “It’s not very big. Besides, turkey sandwiches are a great Boxing Day meal.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out the defrosted bird. “It’s already stuffed—did that last night. We can go swimming while this cooks.”
“That sounds cool.”
“Oh, it is.” She laughed. “The water isn’t as warm as Frankston.”
“Is it safe to swim out here, in the middle of nowhere?”
“Yeah. Just watch for the sharks.” She wiggled her brows.
Sharks? Justin’s legs weakened at the thought. “You are kidding, right?”
Poker-faced, Ella shook her head. “This is the ocean around us.”
After seasoning the turkey, she covered the dish with foil then placed it in the oven on a low heat.
Stripping down to her bathers, she hurried to the aftdeck and dove off the back. She wiped her face as she came up for air then waved. “C’mon.” She motioned for him to join her.
Justin hesitated. The water looked inviting. She looked inviting, her long legs treading the clear water. But what lurked in the depths between them and the ocean floor?
“Maybe I should’ve stuck you in the oven instead? We could’ve had chicken for dinner—it’s smaller.”
That did it. He yanked his shirt over his head, kicked off his flip-flops, and scanned the blue water one last time for dark shadows before taking the plunge. He broke through the surface right beside her.
“My brave birdman.” Ella wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. “Did you remember to put on sunscreen?”
“No, but I can do with some UV rays.”
“You should let me rub some on you before we continue swimming—don’t want you spending Christmas Day with sunstroke.”
“Later. Let’s enjoy the water for a while.” Now he was in, he was staying in.
“All right. But not for too long.”
Melbourne Memories (Heart of Australia) Page 6