Yours to Keep

by Diana Fraser

  Amber normally loved Flo’s baking, more than her own, she had to admit, but not today. “No, thanks, I’m not hungry.”

  Flo’s eyebrows shot up. “You have got it bad!”

  Amber knitted her eyebrows. “Got what bad?”

  “Don’t sulk, Amber, it doesn’t suit you.”

  “Well, I don’t like you suggesting that I’m in love… or something.” She faded away, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought that she’d just admitted she was in love.

  “I wasn’t. But it looks like you are.” She leaned forward and poured them both strong cups of gumboot tea. “That’s good.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because David is not the man I thought he was.”

  “And who did you think he was?”

  “Someone… who was kind of perfect.”

  “Ah, now I see the problem. Perfection doesn’t exist. You always were too idealistic. David is a man—a person even more prone to imperfections than women are.”

  Amber sighed. “I mean perfect for me.” She jumped up and wandered over to the window, leaning against the frame as she took a sip of her tea. “Goodness knows I know perfection doesn’t exist. I do really,” she said in response to Flo’s expression. “And I like people all the more because of it. But I thought David was different. I thought he respected me, but he thinks I’m as dumb and as foolish as everyone else does.”

  “No one thinks you’re dumb and foolish, and I don’t believe David thinks that either. Come on, Amber. He’d have to be dumb and foolish to believe that, and he’s patently neither.”

  Amber gave a small grunt of disagreement. “Do you know what he did yesterday at my exhibition?”

  Flo shook her head. “I had to leave early. But what could he have possibly done to upset you? It looked like it was a great success. I mean, all your paintings were sold, weren’t they?”

  “Yes, because he bought them all!” Amber crossed her arms and sat back, as if that explained everything.

  “All of them?”

  “Every single one.”

  “Well,” said Flo, considering. “I think the matter is even more serious than I imagined.”

  “Exactly,” said Amber, glad that she’d confided in her best friend.

  “He’s obviously head over heels in love with you, and will do anything to make you happy.”

  Amber did a double-take. “That is not how I see it.”

  “How do you see it?” asked Flo mildly, taking a sip of her tea.

  “He tried to fool me, trick me, into believing the exhibition was a success.”

  “It was.”

  “You’re as bad as him! I thought at least you’d be on my side.”

  Flo gave her a long look. “And what does Rachel think?”

  “She doesn’t know what I’m going on about. She thinks I’m making a mountain out of a molehill. But she would, because it’s the sort of thing that she’d do, too.”

  “How awful. People wanting to make you happy. People who’d do anything for you.”

  “Flo! Don’t you see?” said Amber, jumping up. “I don’t need people to do anything for me. I’m not helpless.”

  “No one has said you are.”

  “I’m strong and independent, and I want to know that my art—which is important to me—has made it on its own, too.”

  “Do you really think artists have become successful on their own merit? Not through people they know? Come on, Amber, it’s all about the people you know. Even amongst artists. Look at this place. It was falling down and I didn’t have a penny to my name until Maddy came along and turned it into a destination for archaeologists and other university regulars, who just keep on coming. And that’s led to investment interest.”

  “So, that contract you were signing the other day, it’s going ahead?” Amber squealed, forgetting her own frustrations for the moment, as she realized what this would mean to Flo.

  “Yes! Apparently no strings attached. Some sleeping investor with more money than sense. Again, one of Maddy’s contacts. Or Gabe’s… or someone’s.”

  “You sound very vague.”

  “That’s because I am. I don’t know the name of the investor, only their agent and solicitor. But it’s all above board. I’ll be getting the money next month, to make improvements as I see fit.”

  “That’s amazing.” Amber jumped up and hugged Flo. “You can do all the things you’ve always wanted to do. You can get domestic help so that you can concentrate on the garden; you can get office help—”

  “So I can concentrate on the garden! Yes! I know. It’ll change my life!”

  The door buzzed at the backpacker’s end and Amber went to answer it.

  “Leave it, it’s okay, one of the guests will get it. They’re all lolling around on the deck, anyway. It’ll be for them, no doubt.”

  Then it went again. “Look, you get on with that”—Amber indicated the pots on the stove—“and I’ll answer the door.”

  Amber was glad she’d come—her own frustrations had been forgotten under the influence of Flo’s good news. She whistled as she half-skipped down the hallway and flung open the door. The figure standing before her was a little aloof, standing back, filling in the doorway with a dark shadow. But she knew that shadow. Under the close-cropped beard was the good looking brother she hadn’t seen in five years.

  “Rob?”

  “Little sister. I didn’t expect to see you here.” With one large hand he hooked her towards him and gave her a bear hug. She’d forgotten how cuddly he was.

  “Rob! I can’t believe it’s you! What on earth are you doing here? We thought you were coming next month. And what are you doing here, here, I mean?” She cast a look over her shoulder to see if Flo was anywhere near, but she wasn’t. Amber closed the door behind her. “What are you doing on Flo’s doorstep?” She didn’t need to add that Flo was the woman he’d gone out with for years, before he’d broken her heart and left the country.

  But it wasn’t the same Rob who’d left New Zealand three years earlier. This Rob not only looked taller and broader somehow, but there was something different in his eyes.

  Amber could hear the footsteps approaching. It was Flo, coming ever closer.

  “Thought I’d better come and find out what’s keeping you,” said Flo, just as she was about to round the corner. “Who—”

  The words were snatched from Flo’s mouth as if she were winded, as she set eyes on Rob.

  Amber’s heart sank. “It’s Rob,” she said, belatedly.

  “I think she can see that,” said Rob, stepping forward. “How are you, Flo?”

  Flo was as white as a sheet. She moved her mouth to begin speaking, but nothing emerged. Then she shook her head, more definitely. She licked her lips as if to help her speak. “How am I?”

  “Yes, it’s been a while, and I want to know how you are.”

  “I’m…”

  Amber held her breath, keeping her fingers crossed behind her back, hoping against hope that her dearest friend and her long-lost brother would make up, would put an end to the hostilities which had seen him depart for the other side of the world without a word. Not that Flo had written to Rob, either. Amber considered they were both as bad as each other.

  “I’m busy,” said Flo abruptly. And without saying a further word, she turned around and walked quickly out of the house. Rob’s eyes followed Flo, lingering on the place he’d last seen her, when they both heard the back door slam.

  “She’s busy?” asked Rob, turning back to Amber.

  Amber shrugged. “Flo is always busy. If she’s not in the house, trying to keep on top of its maintenance, she’s entertaining visitors, putting on music evenings—you know how much she loves music—or she’s out in the garden. You know how much she loves the garden.”

  Rob gave a short nod. “Yeah.” He’d barely smiled since she’d seen him. His mouth was a stern line and, not for the first time, Amber wondered what on earth had ha
ppened to him to turn him from a fun-loving youth to a stern, no-nonsense man. “I know how much she loves a lot of things, except me.”

  Amber looked up at her big brother, who she used to idolize, and couldn’t believe he could be so stupid as to let someone like Flo slip through his fingers. “She used to, you know.”

  He closed his eyes briefly as if she’d taken a shot at him and had found her target. Apparently there was still a place of tenderness hidden away in the macho man who was her closest sibling. “No, I didn’t know. She never said anything, despite…” He trailed off, apparently unable to say what he wanted to say to her. It made her heart ache. They’d used to be so close. He was always the first person she’d look for if she needed a cuddle, reassurance, or to know what to do. When Rob had left New Zealand out of the blue, it had hit the whole family hard, but it had devastated Amber. It had been shortly after that she’d accepted the lift from the boy she barely knew. Not that she could blame Rob for that. But that was a long time ago. She’d definitely changed and so maybe had Rob.

  “You should go and see her,” said Amber. “Have a chat.”

  “A chat? It didn’t look much like she wanted to chat with me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure she does, it’s just…” Amber drifted into silence. She couldn’t think what to say without telling him the plain, unadulterated truth.

  “Just?”

  “Just that she’s angry with you for walking out on her.”

  For a moment he looked as if he were about to say something, then he clamped his lips together into that firm line from which Amber knew nothing would be emerging. She didn’t know what the hell had happened between Rob and Flo, only that Rob had left Flo broken-hearted. And Amber’s hopeful heart now hoped that they could resolve their differences.

  He nodded, and looking decisive, followed Flo outside.

  Amber watched her brother go. They were two good people, and she so hoped that they would get back together again. But she knew that Rob had a lot of groveling to do to make that happen.

  Despite her curiosity, Amber didn’t follow Rob outside. If ever there was a time to leave her friend alone, it was now.

  And, she thought, casting around for her handbag, she had her own battles to fight. She checked her phone, which she’d turned to silent. There were unread messages from David and a number of missed calls. Well, he could wait. Battles, she thought, that might prove a whole lot bloodier than Flo’s.

  As she was leaving, she heard the landline ring again. She wheeled her bike out of the garden and onto the road, remembering the first time she’d bumped into David there, and glanced toward the house where his sister lived part time. The blinds were down, presumably no one was home. She looked away suddenly. She’d promised her father she’d pick up some groceries.

  Half-an-hour later Amber took a shortcut across the back lawn of Belendroit, ringing her bicycle bell madly. She waited for the expected barking and gamboling of the two cocker spaniels who ruled the house, but there was no sound.

  She frowned as she leaned her bike against the tree and ran up the steps.

  “Stanley! Boo! Pop!”

  “I like how I come last in the pecking order,” her father called out from the study.

  She laughed and walked down the hallway, dropping the bag of groceries on the kelim-covered chair as she went. “It’s because you don’t usually bark when I ring the bell.”

  She stepped into the room and came to a dead standstill. There, at the desk her father only ever used to put things on, sat her father, glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he flicked through some papers. And standing with his back to the sunny French windows was the silhouette of a man, and not just any man. David. She’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. And, even more surprising, was that at his feet sat two cocker spaniels who both gazed at David, as if awaiting a command.

  “David! I didn’t see your car.”

  “I walked here.”

  “Walked?”

  “Yes, walked.”

  “So, what are you doing here?”

  “David’s here on business, darling. He’s getting involved in the museum trust.”

  “Museum trust?”

  Jim Connelly signed his name with a flourish and pushed away the papers and sat back. “Why do you keep repeating yourself, Amber?”

  Amber ignored the question and walked straight past David. “Coffee, Pop?”

  Jim glanced from her to David and then back to Amber again. “Yes, please. Have you got my things?” He rose and looked into the bag. “Thanks. How much do I owe you?”

  Amber waved an airy hand as she went into the kitchen, conscious of two pairs of eyes watching her. “Nothing. You never owe me anything.”

  “No wonder you never have any money,” Jim said with a sigh. “I’ll transfer it to your bank account.”

  Amber shrugged. “Thanks,” she said vaguely. Money didn’t concern her, something her bank manager was always nagging her about. She flicked on the tap and filled the kettle with cold water. She could hear a murmur of conversation between her dad and David, and she wondered what they could be talking about, and what kind of connection David had with the museum trust. They’d hardly hit it off the first or second times, so how come they were behaving like best mates now?

  She flicked off the water and listened for a moment, but their voices fell silent. She began unpacking the shopping and putting it away, knowing that it was rude to ignore David but still feeling aggrieved by the fact he’d treated her like a kid to be humored, rather than an adult who could compete in the real world. He obviously thought she couldn’t compete—not her, and certainly not her artwork. It was quiet in the other room, but still she lingered in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil and then making some coffee. She got out some cups and turned around to place them on the table to find David silently watching her.

  “You made me jump,” she said, taking milk out of the fridge. “Do you normally stand watching people in silence?”

  “Only when they won’t talk to me. Besides, I was curious.”

  “About me?” She turned to face him, crossed her arms and leaned back against the work bench. “I’m surprised. I wouldn’t have thought you’d think there was anything you didn’t know about me.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “That sounds quite snarky, coming from you.”

  “Well.” She turned away from him again and opened the cookie barrel, checking for non-stale cookies. “Then perhaps you don’t know all there is to know about me.”

  “I never thought I did. What things do you think I should know?”

  “That I’m not someone who needs help; that I’m an adult who should be treated like one; that, despite what it appears to my family and friends, I don’t need cosseting. David, I know you meant well, but what you did shows me exactly what you think of me and my artwork—precisely nothing. You didn’t think I stood a chance of selling anything in that exhibition, otherwise you wouldn’t have stepped in and bought everything.”

  “That’s not true, Amber. To be honest, I didn’t give it much consideration, I simply wanted to–”

  “Control me.” She completed his sentence before he could.

  “I don’t wish to control you.”

  But even as he said it, she could see his frown deepen as he pondered the words which had fallen automatically from his lips.

  “Are you sure?”

  He opened his mouth to speak but grimaced instead. “I’m not usually in the habit of analyzing my actions to such a degree.”

  “Then perhaps you should start. I’m a free spirit and I don’t wish, or need, to be controlled. And, unless you understand that, then I don’t think there’s any point you standing there gripping the wall as if you think you’ll fall over.”

  “That’s one of the things I love about you—your free spirit—why would I want to capture it?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Hang on a minute, what did you just say?” She reflected on his words. �
�Did you say ‘love about me’?”

  “Yes. I love lots of things about you—your free spirit, your warm heart, your beauty, your kindness, your sweetness, your—”

  She stepped toward him. “Go on,” she said, more softly now.

  He shook his head and his eyes never left hers. “I can’t. I’ve forgotten. Whenever you come close to me, I forget what I’m going to say.”

  She stepped a bit closer. “David, I have a question.”

  “Anything.”

  “Why are you gripping the wall?”

  “Because I’m terrified, I’ll walk right over to you, put my fingers through your hair, hold your face still and kiss you.”

  “Hm,” she said, taking another step closer. “I’d like to see that.”

  “You would?”

  She nodded. “I would.”

  “Does that mean you’ve forgiven me? Because, you know, I don’t underestimate you, and I don’t want to control you.” He shrugged. “I guess it’s just habit to jump on in, and take over, to seal the deal.”

  “You like sealing the deal, don’t you?”

  He loosened his grip on the wall and thrust his fingers through her hair, and brought his head close to hers. “I do. Preferably with a kiss.”

  She lifted her face to his. “Is that how you sealed the deal with Pop?” His lips were smiling as he pressed them to hers.

  “So,” he said breathlessly as they pulled apart. “Am I forgiven?”

  “Yes. It probably seems silly to you, after all you did it to try to make me happy. But I’m not the kind of person who can be made happy by fake gestures. I really wanted to succeed, to share my art with people, not just one person.”

  “I get it. But promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t stop creating your art. Because it is beautiful and you just have to find the right audience.” He hesitated as if he were about to say something else, but Amber knew what it was.

  “And the audience at the gallery wasn’t the right one, was it?”

  “I don’t think so.”