by Lucy Gordon
‘So … so you think we did all right in the fund-raising department?’ she managed.
‘We did.’
‘You were wonderful.’
‘Not as wonderful as you,’ he said softly. ‘But now … You’re minus jewellery. I’m thinking … Mardie, would you be interested in a diamond to take its place?’
‘A diamond …?’
‘Mardie, you are my very best friend. I can’t believe what you’ve just done. To marry you … It would be my honour.’
Her world stilled. He was … proposing? Where had that come from?
He’d taken her breath away.
He’d taken his own breath away. She met his gaze and realised he was as shocked as she was.
Had he meant to say it?
In this crowded room … A proposal?
‘I don’t think …’ she said and then found courage. Also a certain amount of indignation. ‘No. I don’t need to think. Diamonds aren’t my style.’
‘Not?’
‘Hugh gave me the only diamond I want,’ she said and she met his gaze squarely. She glanced down at her left hand and it lay there still, her tiny solitaire.
Her armour against future hurt.
‘I’m guessing yours would be bigger,’ she said. ‘But it would come with strings.’
She took a deep breath. Regrouped. She knew his proposal had been instinctive, a spur-of-the-moment response to current emotion. One of them had to be sensible.
‘Blake, you asked me once before to become part of your life. That couldn’t happen then and it couldn’t happen now. For if you were serious—about giving diamonds—I’d be asking you to give yourself. And I don’t think you know how.’
‘I didn’t mean …’
‘I know you didn’t mean.’ Indignation was great. Indignation helped. ‘Forget it.’
And then the world took over. The woman who’d bought the option on the second choker came surging forward, twittering her excitement. People needed to speak to Blake. Chequebooks were coming out. He had to work the room.
They glanced at each other and, by mutual consent, turned back to what was important.
His work. Africa.
The work he was doing was breathtaking.
He’d just asked her to marry him?
Be part of his life?
All or nothing. Just as it had been fifteen years ago.
It was surely a mistake. An aberration. He looked as shocked as she was. She concentrated on staying social, doing some ego-massaging, trying to make those chequebooks produce more.
Wondering how soon she could get away.
Blake was mid-negotiation with the head of a huge airline corporation. Something about transport for children who needed specialist care …
One of the Outback doctors was waiting to talk to him.
She could slip away. She must.
She needed to get back to her dogs. Ground herself.
She rose and slipped to the Ladies, then, instead of returning to the crowded dining venue, she just happed to edge outside.
There was a cab rank just …
‘Where do you think you’re going?’
Blake. Of course. He had eyes in the back of his head, and he’d always been a mind-reader.
She didn’t look back but waited for him to come up to her.
‘I’m going home.’ She fought to sound commonplace. As if he hadn’t just asked … about marriage? ‘I’m worried. Irena’s out for the night and I have two dogs locked in her too-small laundry. I need to give them a run.’
‘I’ll take you.’
‘You’re needed here.’
‘There’s no more to be done,’ he told her. ‘I’ve organised to meet people from the Outback Medical Service on Thursday—something about mutual knowledge sharing—but they were pushed for time tonight and couldn’t stay. The rest is duelling chequebooks. Tonight was every fundraiser’s dream. One person donates on such a grandiose scale—i.e. for your choker—and no one can be seen to be outdone. Even the corporates. It was brilliant. If you knew how many eyes tonight will save …’
‘I’m glad.’
‘Then let me take you home.’
‘The diamond …’ she said tentatively.
Their gazes met. Locked. A silent message. Don’t go there.
‘The diamond was a mistake,’ he said firmly, as if it really was. ‘Said on the spur of the moment because I thought you were wonderful. I still do think you’re wonderful, but of course you have Hugh’s.’
‘Of course.’ Why did that make her feel desolate?
Because that was all it was. A diamond with no Hugh behind it.
Nothing.
‘So can I take you home?’
‘Yes,’ she said, and she should have thought of Hugh—but she didn’t.
CHAPTER EIGHT
ONCE again they drove to Coogee in near silence. There were so many words between them, but there seemed nothing to say. It was as if there was a chasm between them, with no one courageous enough to step near the edge.
‘So you decided against another Mercedes?’ she asked, thinking at least his choice of car was a safe enough topic for discussion.
‘Do you know how much insurance premiums go up if you crash a Mercedes?’ He shrugged. ‘It was hired. I decided it was cheaper to buy this time.’
‘And you’re not a man who wastes money.’
‘Are you criticising my choice in cars?’
‘Who, me?’
But maybe she was. The car he’d ushered her into was an ancient model, a bit rusty, almost as old as she was.
She glanced across at the man beside her, looking absurdly handsome in yet another dinner suit. How many men had a spare dinner suit?
And drove a Mercedes, followed by a rust bucket.
And looked cool in all of them.
A man of parts.
‘So you see this as a long-term investment?’ she said cautiously and got a ghost of a smile in return.
‘Not too long-term. I’m probably leaving Australia in four weeks.’
‘Where will you go?’
‘I’m thinking back to California.’
‘Back?’
‘That’s where we used to live,’ he said. ‘All those years ago. My grandfather set up a charitable trust there. That’s what I’ve expanded—the foundation. Our CEO quit last month. Given … my limitations, it seems sensible that I take on his role.’
She frowned. ‘I thought you were the CEO.’
‘I’m chairman, because of the family connection. Administration’s never been my forte. I far prefer working in the field. I’ve done the occasional fund-raiser, like this one, but mostly I’ve left the administration to others. It’ll be a good fit for me now, though.’
‘Now that you can’t do fieldwork?’
‘Yes.’ Short. Harsh. Desolate.
‘You sound like Bessie,’ she said softly. ‘Charlie said it’d be kinder to put her down if she can’t work. Is that how you feel?’
‘That’s melodramatic.’
‘Not so melodramatic if you love your work. Like me if you took the art out of me.’
‘It means so much to you?’
‘I suspect not as much as your work.’
‘So if you were to think of coming to California with me …?’ But he said it tentatively, as if he already knew it was out of the question. As they both knew it was.
‘That’d be two of us miserable,’ she said. ‘Why are you asking? For the same reason you asked fifteen years ago? Because you wouldn’t mind a security blanket?’
‘I would never think of you as a security blanket,’ he said vehemently. ‘What you did tonight …’
‘Was fabulous,’ she said, deciding—with a fairly major effort—that she needed to cheer up. Or at least sound as if she’d cheered up. ‘It pays to be different. All those diamonds, all those floor-length gowns, and I walk in wearing a home-made tube and costume jewellery. I sit next to the most gorgeous guy in the room and su
ddenly I’m cool and my choker’s desirable and the whole room wants what I’m having. But the money it produced … Can you believe it? How much money do those guys have to play with?’
‘You needn’t worry,’ Blake said. ‘Those cheques will be lodged as tax deductions, used to gain all sorts of corporate advantage. The chokers themselves are just icing on the cake. They’re not as important as image.’
‘That’s put me in my place.’
‘It was a very nice tax deduction,’ he said kindly.
‘Oh, the praise. I’m all a-flutter.’
He grinned and suddenly the atmosphere in the car lightened. The stupid issue of diamonds receded. ‘It was more than the choker,’ he said softly. ‘If you knew how much of a difference your actions made …’
‘To the kids in Africa?’
‘Of course.’
‘Do you ever think of anything else?’ she ventured.
‘It’s what I do. It’s what I am.’
‘Because of Robbie?’
‘I don’t know any more,’ he said simply. ‘Yes, when I started it was about Robbie. Now, I love what I do. I believe in it and I’ll keep working towards it.’
‘So no holidays?’
‘Not so much,’ he admitted.
‘You know,’ she said softly, ‘maybe you should take some time off before you take on this very important job you have in California. Cut yourself some slack.’
‘I don’t need slack.’
‘You don’t do slack. That doesn’t say you don’t need it. Your face says you haven’t done slack in a very long time.’
‘I haven’t relaxed,’ he admitted. Hesitated again. Regrouped. ‘So you’d never think about coming to California?’
‘Why would I?’
‘We could do good.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘We wouldn’t. We’d self-destruct. This is a dumb conversation, Blake. It’s unsettling. Leave it. Once upon a time we were friends. Now we have a dog in common and nothing else. We both know it can’t ever be any more than that so we might as well stop now.’
Irena was out, at the opening of an art exhibition. ‘Don’t wait up for me,’ she’d told Mardie. ‘These things can stretch out for days. Mind, if you get caught up, too …’ She’d eyed Mardie thoughtfully. ‘Which I hope you do. If my neighbour doesn’t see my car, she’ll come in and feed the cats. Shall I leave a note saying feed the dogs as well?’
‘No!’ Mardie had said, revolted, so here she was, back home at eleven at night, not even pumpkin hour. Home to her dogs and Irena’s cats.
So much for Irena’s hope. Blake hadn’t even as much as suggested he’d like to … she didn’t know … have crazy, hot sex? Anything.
He’d simply asked her to marry him.
Which was much easier to refuse.
Blake was standing on the doorstep with her. ‘I don’t like you going into an empty house,’ he’d said curtly as she’d told him there was no need. ‘And I need to check the dogs are okay.’
The dogs were okay. She opened the door and they practically knocked her over in their joy. Bouncing with excitement.
The cats were a picture of smouldering resentment, perched precariously on the curtain rails.
Uh-oh.
It seemed the laundry door hadn’t closed properly. She gazed around in dismay at the chaos.
That lamp looked … expensive.
‘You’ll have to make another choker fast, to pay for this,’ Blake said, his lips twitching, and she found herself chuckling.
What was it with this man? He drove her nuts. He was driven by demons she could never hope to compete with, yet underneath …
Underneath he was still just Blake. A boy she’d loved.
A man she could still love?
Should she take his proposal seriously?
Maybe he had been serious, she thought. He wasn’t a man who took things lightly.
He’d asked because he meant it?
If he had …
If he had, there was part of her that ached to accept. Only of course it hadn’t been a proper proposal. It was just like that invitation to come with him to university all those years ago. Come to California. All or nothing. Be subsumed by his life.
Share his demons?
She had no intention of sharing his demons. No way. She had enough of her own.
He was helping her fight down the over-excited dogs. He was too near.
How to tell him to go home?
How to tell him he was far too distracting?
‘I … I need to change and take the dogs for a walk,’ she said. ‘I need to get rid of some energy.’
‘You’re not walking in the dark.’
‘It’s Coogee,’ she said patiently. ‘It’ll be lit like daylight. Security patrols. The works. I’ve done it before. The security guys even know me—at this time of night they’ll turn a blind eye if I let Bounce off his lead.’
‘How often do you come down here?’
‘I sell my enamelling,’ she said patiently. ‘I live in two worlds.’
‘So you could come to California …’
‘No, Blake, I couldn’t,’ she snapped. ‘Have you forgotten my mother? Have you forgotten how much I love Banksia Bay? And have you even begun to realise how much I don’t know you? Enough. You’re welcome to come for a walk on the beach with me, but that’s the extent of it. If you have time to wait until I put some jeans on. If you don’t mind walking in a dinner suit.’
‘Lately I’ve been doing all sorts of strange things in a dinner suit,’ he said, sounding grim.
‘Maybe your life’s changing in more ways than one,’ she said. ‘Think about it. California doesn’t sound like much fun to me. How about some lateral thinking?’
As if … When had this man ever changed direction? Was it possible that he ever could?
He stood and waited until she put on jeans and windcheater and trainers, and when she came back to the sitting room he couldn’t figure whether he loved her more in her wonderful home-made dress or in her casual jeans.
Love …
It was a simple word but it was resounding more and more.
Mardie.
Mardie herding sheep. Mardie tackling the tree with her chainsaw.
Mardie loving her mother, loving her community.
Love.
But he didn’t truly know what love was and how he was feeling now … He didn’t know what to do with it. There was nowhere to take it.
He’d asked her to marry him. What if she’d said yes?
He’d make it work.
She wasn’t taking the risk. She was being wise for both of them.
Beach, walk, dogs.
He tossed his jacket and tie, rolled up his sleeves, pretended to be casual.
Pretended he could fit into Mardie’s world.
He knew that he couldn’t.
He’d expected a stroll. He didn’t get one. Mardie walked as if there was a sheep in trouble down the back paddock and she wasn’t wasting time getting there.
The tide was far out. The foreshore was well lit but even if it hadn’t been, the full moon made walking a pleasure. They could walk for miles on the ribbon of wet sand and on the paths around the cliffs—and maybe she intended just that. She was striding as if she meant to leave him behind.
That was okay. It felt okay that she was simply on the beach beside him.
More—it felt good.
It felt good to the dogs, too. Strange smells. Shallows to run in. Humans to herd. Both these dogs must know the sea. Bessie stuck to Bounce’s side, but she seemed almost the leader, egging Bounce on.
Blake let his attention stay on the dogs. It was easier to think dogs rather than think Mardie, for every time he thought about Mardie …
Mardie tonight, glowing, sophisticated, beautiful, generous. Every man in the room watching her. His Mardie-girl …
To walk away …
Not his.
Don’t think about it.
Think of Bessie.
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To cure her would give such pleasure. It wouldn’t feel so bad going back to California knowing he’d left Mardie with two dogs instead of one.
Why had he asked her to marry him?
He hadn’t been serious. If he seriously wanted this woman to marry him, he needed to get down on bended knee and do the thing in style.
The answer would be the same. The idea was, as she’d said, unworkable.
Unthinkable.
Except he was thinking it.
Marriage on his terms?
Marriage for him; not for Mardie.
Bad idea.
‘So what were you about, offering diamonds?’ Mardie asked, still striding, and he wondered if she was angry. She’d never been one to sulk in silence. Bring the elephant into the room and inspect it from all angles.
‘Thinking aloud,’ he said. ‘Wishing our worlds could collide.’
‘Would you really want our worlds to collide?’ she asked. ‘Or is it more that in your world you don’t have anything of my world? And my world feels safe.’
‘Safe …’
‘Why did you come back to Australia after your illness?’ she asked. ‘I know there was this fund-raiser, but someone else could surely have handled it. If home’s in California …’
‘It’s not.’
‘Home has to feel somewhere.’
She slowed. She’d kicked off her sandals and was walking in the shallows.
He’d been walking a little up the beach where it was drier. As she slowed he tugged off his shoes and hit the water, too. Her anger seemed to have dissipated. He flinched as the first wave hit and she smiled.
That smile … Marriage … Why wouldn’t a man ask, even if the concept was impossible?
The dogs came tearing back to them, crazy circling, as if making sure their flock of humans stayed in a tight knot.
He wouldn’t mind staying in a tight knot with Mardie.
Home was …
Here. With this woman.
It always had been. Ever since that first day in the playground. Sharing lunches.
Why had he come back to Australia?
It had been his refuge after Robbie died. He’d found peace here. He still thought of Australia as a refuge.
He couldn’t stay somewhere because it was a refuge. He couldn’t love somewhere because it was safe.
He couldn’t love a woman for the same reasons.