Sparks Fly

by Emily Harvale

  Cat slumped on the window seat and stared outside. The shore was deserted and waves lapped hungrily at the shingle on an incoming tide. It would be dark in less than an hour. She could go for a walk beforehand.

  Oh to be young and carefree again, like Kyra. But would she want that? Could she go through all of that again? If Kyle had lived, what would the two of them be doing right now? Would they have had more kids? Would they have stayed in Edinburgh as they had planned? Didn't Mary's friend, Annie say that everyone came back to Merriment Bay, one way or another? Would they have come back by now? Would they be friends with Amias and maybe go out as a foursome with him and one of his many dates? What was Amias doing right now?

  She swung her legs down and leapt to her feet. He wouldn't be sitting on a window seat staring out to sea; that much was certain. And neither would she. She could go to The Hope and Anchor for a drink.

  Nope. If Amias had a house in the bay, that might be where he was tonight.

  She could go to the golf club. He definitely wouldn't be there. Or would he? Maybe he played golf now. She somehow doubted it. Amias didn't do 'slow'; he did everything at breakneck speed as if afraid he would run out of time. Had that got worse since Kyle's death? Kyle had so many plans, but time had run out for him.

  Did Amias make love at breakneck speed too?

  God! Why had that thought come to torment her? The last thing she wanted to think about was Amias making love with someone.

  The Fitness Centre. That's where she could go. A good work out would do wonders for her mind, her body and her spirit. And Amias wouldn't go there. He preferred his workouts in the open air.

  And again, her thoughts placed images of him on the beach … making love.

  'You're losing your mind, Cat Devon!' She shouted at herself: 'Forget about Amias Wells. That way madness lies.'

  With new found determination she rushed upstairs, tossed a few things in a denim rucksack which had an image of one of her paintings on the front and back, changed into the grey leggings she wore for yoga and the matching T-shirt and longline hooded sweatshirt. She grabbed her phone and keys from the hall as she ran out of the front door.

  The evening air was warm as she jogged along Channel View Lane, and across Coast Road, trying, as she always did, not to look at the spot where her life had changed so many years ago. It was just a road. Just tarmac and paving slabs. And it wasn't where Kyle had died. He'd died in hospital in the ICU.

  She continued into Lord Lane and burst through the double doors of the Fitness Centre. Either everyone in Merriment Bay was extremely fit, or they all came here in the week and had better things to occupy their time at the weekend because when Cat entered the lobby, it was clear this was not the 'in' place on a Saturday night. But that suited her. She could take her hoody off and work out in just her T-shirt without any enquiring looks, furtive glances or whispers behind hands.

  Chapter Three

  Two hours of a strenuous workout, a soothing sauna and intermittent hops in and out of the cold shower, followed by a final warm shower with her favourite jasmine and vanilla body wash had done wonders. Cat strolled home, more content and at peace than she had been since she and Kyra had arrived in Merriment Bay.

  Kyra was right about the moon. It was glorious. A gleaming, ivory ball, low in a sky of black velvet, just above a flat-calm silver sea, surrounded by an explosion of stars. Surely if something as magnificent as this could exist, whoever or whatever created it could make Granny Viola wake up from her coma?

  Dots of lights on distance ships drifted slowly across the horizon and a gentle breeze crept in from the sea bringing with it a hint of salt and seaweed as waves lapped at the shore. Cat was savouring the sights, the sounds, the smell of the awe-inspiring vista as she turned into the front garden of Devon Villa. But the sight that assaulted her eyes rapidly removed all traces of her blissful smile.

  'Amias! What the hell are you doing with my daughter!'

  'Cat!'

  He looked as stunned as she felt as he tried to disentangle Kyra's arms from around his neck. He had hardly changed at all. Just grown a little older.

  Cat raced towards them, horrified.

  'She's had far too much to drink.'

  'What? And you thought that meant you could take advantage of her? Jesus Christ, Amias. She's eighteen! And Kyle's daughter. I didn't think you'd stoop to this.'

  She grabbed Kyra by the arm, pulled her away from Amias and hugged her tight.

  'Stoop to what?' He glowered at her, fury etched into the fine lines around his intense, dark eyes. 'You thought I was kissing her, didn't you? Seriously? Jesus, Cat! I know you've always had a low opinion of me but I hoped you knew me better than that.'

  'Are you saying you weren't?'

  'Of course I wasn't.'

  'That's what it looked like. And I haven't seen you for eighteen years, Amias. I don't know what you're like these days.'

  'I haven't changed. I'm still the same as I was back then. In more ways than you can imagine. And taking advantage of drunken women is not something I did then and it's not something I do now. Especially ones who are half my age.'

  'Hi, Mum.' Kyra beamed, and let her head rest against Cat's. 'I've had a lovely time. But I may have had one drink too many.' She giggled as Amias glared at Cat but a slight smile formed at the edge of his mouth when Kyra smiled at him. 'Thank you for bringing me safely home, Amias. And for holding me up. Why is the ground spinning?'

  He reached out and grabbed her.

  'I'm just making sure she doesn't fall, OK?' He threw Cat a sarcastic look. 'I'm not trying to have my wicked way with her.'

  'I'd like to do something wicked with Lucas Lester,' Kyra said, slurring the words just a little. 'And maybe Marcus, too. I like them both. It's really difficult when you like two men, isn't it? You would know that, wouldn't you, Mum? Amias? Did you know that Mum was—'

  'Kyra! You're talking a lot of nonsense. Let's get you inside and into bed.' The heat in the sauna was nothing compared to the heat Cat was experiencing right now. 'It appears I owe you an apology, Amias.'

  'You owe me nothing.'

  She fumbled with her keys as his eyes seemed to burn into her. Why were her hands shaking? Why couldn't she breathe? Why did that bloody moonlight have to throw slivers of silver in the strands of his dark hair lifted by the soft breeze, and flecks of gold in those deep, dark eyes? Why did the tight line of his lips look so kissable? Why did her hand want to reach up and trace the length of his firm, clean-shaven jaw?

  With one arm around Kyra, he took the keys from Cat's hand, lightly brushing her fingers with his.

  A bolt of lightning lit up the sky.

  Or had she imagined that?

  He opened the door and waited for her to go inside.

  'Thank you.' Cat flashed him a grateful smile as she switched on the hall light, quickly turning her face away, remembering her scars. But she allowed herself a surreptitious look at him from the corner of her eyes.

  He was broader than she remembered and possibly a fraction taller. Maybe a little more handsome, too. If that were possible. He wore faded jeans, deck shoes, a blue T-shirt and a well-worn, leather bomber jacket. No doubt an original, like the sheepskin-lined flight jacket he used to wear all those years ago.

  'Shall I take her to her room? I don't think you'll be able to get her up the stairs.' He gave Cat a sardonic grin. 'I promise I'll behave.'

  Cat tutted softly. 'Yes please. Her room is next to mine.'

  'Er. As I never had the pleasure of being invited inside this house, let alone your bedroom, that actually doesn't help me.'

  She met his eyes and quickly looked away. 'Top of the second flight of stairs. Kyra's room is the second door on the left.'

  'Come on then, young lady. Let's get you into bed.'

  Kyra smiled. 'I like you, Amias. But I think you're a bit too old for me. And as gorgeous as you are, I don't want to have sex with you.'

  'I'm crushed. But I think that's wise. Can yo
u walk or shall I carry you? Assuming that's OK with your mum, of course.'

  'Oooh. I've never been carried upstairs by a man before. But we lived in a cottage and it didn't have stairs. It was a bungalow really. But Bonniemount Bungalow doesn't sound as cosy as Bonniemount Cottage, does it? This house has so many stairs. How many, I'm not sure. Shall we count them?'

  'Another time, perhaps.' He looked over his shoulder at Cat. 'It really will be faster if I carry her, but I'm loathe to incur your wrath.'

  Cat narrowed her eyes at him. 'If you're trying to be funny, you're wasting your time. I'd be grateful for anything you can do to speed this up.'

  'Don't worry. I'll be out of here as fast as I can. I know how abhorrent it must be to have me in this grand house.'

  He scowled at her as he lifted Kyra gingerly into his arms as if he were frightened she might break.

  'That wasn't what I meant. But you're right. You haven't changed. That chip on your shoulder is still firmly fixed in place.'

  He tensed visibly but he didn't say a word and she followed him up both flights of stairs in silence, save for Kyra singing some unrecognizable song into the muscles of his neck.

  Kyra's bedroom door was ajar and he used his elbow to shove it open. With just the light from the hall illuminating the room, he laid Kyra gently on the bed.

  'Goodnight, Kyra,' he whispered, before shooting a look at Cat. 'I'd offer to remove her shoes, but God knows what you'd accuse me of, so I'll leave you to it. Goodbye, Cat.' His voice had returned to a normal pitch as he strode towards the door.

  'Wait! I mean … I'll show you out.'

  He looked her up and down and sneered. 'Worried I might take something?'

  'Don't be so ridiculous.' She marched past him and removed Kyra's shoes before easing the antique, patchwork quilt on the bed, over her. 'I was trying to be polite.'

  'Polite?' He raised his brows and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 'After accusing me of kissing your daughter, you think telling me you want to escort me off the premises is polite?'

  'I apologised for that. And I wasn't going to escort you off the premises. I was going to offer you a coffee.' She hadn't meant to yell and she took a quick, calming breath. 'But I see now that was a mistake. Goodnight, Amias. You can show yourself out.'

  He eyed her for a moment and didn't move. She busied herself adjusting the quilt.

  Why wouldn't the bloody man just leave?

  She threw him a quick smile. 'Thank you again for your help. I suppose it was a good thing you were there. But aren't you a bit too old to be hanging out with a group of teenagers on a Saturday night?'

  He gave a derisive snort. 'Aren't you too young not to be?'

  Kyra let out a soft snore and Cat ignored his remark as she lovingly brushed a strand of ginger curls from her daughter's cheek.

  'She's the image of Kyle.' His voice was soft now but there was a hint of gravel in it, as if the words scratched his throat and were painful.

  Cat shot a look at him and her heart skipped a beat. He was staring at Kyra as if he felt genuine affection for her. But he'd looked at Kyra like that once before, eighteen years ago. And then he'd completely ignored them. Cat cleared her throat and looked away.

  'Yes. She's got his intelligence, too.'

  'But your stubbornness and determination.'

  She couldn't look at him now, especially as a shaft of moonlight filtered through the window, spotlighting his frame.

  'And my love of art. But she's twice the artist I am.'

  'She's as good, if not better than Kyle was on anything on water. He would've been so proud of her.'

  Now she did look at him and it was clear he hadn't forgotten Kyle. He hadn't forgotten the pain, either.

  'Yes. He would.'

  Their eyes met for a moment and she flashed him a brief, empathetic smile. For a second it seemed he might smile back as the corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn't let it form.

  'She's got your eyes. And your smile. She's grown into a stunning woman.' He turned away, running a hand through his hair. 'I'd better go. If Mary finds me here, I'll be thrown in the cellar in chains.'

  Had Amias just paid Cat a compliment, in a roundabout way? That was a first. And what was more, he must've seen the scar on her cheek in the light in the hall, but he hadn't mentioned it, or even flinched.

  'Amias?' She hurried into the hall. He was halfway down the first flight of stairs.

  'Yes?'

  She gave a small cough, and forced a grin. 'We don't have a cellar.'

  He looked as if he wasn't sure if that meant something else. 'That's good to know.' He hesitated on the stair before continuing down.

  'I'm sorry,' she said.

  He stopped again and furrowed his brows. 'For what? For not having a cellar?' He flashed her a tentative grin.

  She shook her head. 'For thinking, even for a second, that you would ever do anything inappropriate with Kyra.'

  He sighed deeply. 'Oh that.' He shrugged. 'Not that kind of a guy. Despite the tail and the horns some people like to paint on me. Goodnight, Cat. I'm glad you've come home.'

  He was gone before she had a chance to respond.

  Chapter Four

  For a while, after Amias left, Cat had lain beside Kyra on her bed, one arm wrapped around her as she stared at Kyra's face. Every now and then her eyelashes fluttered. Kyle's used to do that when he slept. Not that Cat and he had ever spent an entire night together; just snatched hours, here and there. At Devon Villa, whenever she knew Granny Viola and her mum would be out and at Kyle's house whenever he knew his parents would be in The Hope and Anchor. She and Kyle spent far more time at his parents' house than they did at Devon Villa.

  Where did Kyle's parents live now? She hadn't even thought about them until that moment. But then they hadn't thought much about Kyle when he was alive and they had only seen Kyra once – the day they'd agreed with her mum and Granny Viola that Cat should give the baby up for adoption. They hadn't even held Kyra in their arms. They had left Merriment Bay before she had left the hospital, she knew that much.

  Amias had told her that. And he'd said she shouldn't have been surprised, as he'd cradled Kyra on that last day she'd spent in the hospital.

  'Some people shouldn't be parents,' he'd said. 'But then again, they did give us Kyle, so I suppose we should thank them for that. Although how the hell those two produced someone as great as Kyle is beyond me.'

  He'd looked at Kyra that day, just as he had tonight: as if he had genuine affection for her. But he'd looked at Cat as if he despised her. And that was the last day she had spoken to him. Until tonight. Her mum and Granny Viola had collected her from the hospital and driven her home to Devon Villa and Amias hadn't visited, or called, or written.

  'He told us neither you nor the child are any concern of his,' Mary said, when Cat asked if they had heard from him. Despite being allowed home, she wasn't fully recovered and had spent the first week or so in bed.

  Once or twice, she thought she had heard his voice. He was angry and shouting her name. But Mary assured her he was too busy having fun in the bay with all the female holidaymakers to find time to call on Cat and her child.

  She had considered phoning him, but what would she say? 'Why haven't you come to see us?'

  'Why would I?' he would no doubt have replied. 'Kyle was my friend, not you. And he's dead now because of you.'

  One week had crawled into two, and Granny Viola and her mum continued their stance; that Cat should give the baby up for adoption. The minute they'd discovered she was pregnant, their bombardment had begun.

  'You could have a wonderful future, Catherine. Don't saddle yourself with a child at seventeen,' Mary had pleaded. 'That boy won't stay with you. You'll be completely on your own.'

  'We're going to get married and be a family. Kyle loves me,' Cat had argued.

  Granny Viola sneered. 'What does that boy know about family? The Morrises and that Wells rabble are all cut from the same cloth.'
>
  Mary sighed and shook her head. 'Do you want to spend your future worrying where the next penny is coming from?'

  'Are you saying you'll disown me? That's a bit rich coming from you, Mum. You had me when you were eighteen and Granny Viola didn't disown you. At least the father of my child wants to marry me. Just because my dad, whoever he was, didn't want to marry you, don't paint Kyle with the same brush.'

  Mary had been furious and they'd all said things they shouldn't. But the final straw had been the day Mary had told Cat she was the biggest mistake of her life.

  'My life would be so different now if I hadn't fallen for your father and had you,' she'd said. 'Don't make the same mistake I did. Don't throw your life away over a man and a child.'

  Kyle was getting hassle from his parents too.

  'They're not pleased that I'll be moving out, but they'll miss the money I give them, not me. We'll get a little place of our own, Cat. Just you, me, and our beautiful daughter. Because we'll have a daughter, I just know it.'

  And the scans had confirmed he was right.

  'I've got savings,' he had said, when he brought the subject up again a few weeks later. And I'll get a full-time job. We'll be fine. We'll have a wonderful life, the three of us.'

  'But your savings are for you to go to college.'

  'And now they're for me to have an even better life. A life with the girl I adore and the daughter I already love. Let's get away from Merriment Bay for a while. Let's go to Edinburgh. That's where you want to go to study art, isn't it? We might not be able to afford that right away, but once I get a job, we can save some money and who knows. And I can study architecture at evening classes, I expect. We won't have your family nagging you, or my family trying to get their hands on my wages.'

  'I've got some money, too,' Cat had said. 'But Mum and Granny Viola would never let me go.'