Chapter Twenty-Nine
CHAPTER
29
James, after bouncing up the verandah steps, puts his hands on my shoulders and considers my clothes—a loose-knit cream coloured V-necked jumper, new blue jeans and short brown boots. After adjusting the jumper so it slips off one shoulder, he grins.
‘I’d root you.’
‘James!’
‘It’s a fair-dinkum Aussie expression, isn’t it?’
‘Not a good one.’
It’s only a two-hour drive to Denman but James brews a mug of herbal tea. “‘Stop, revive, survive.” That’s another Aussie expression.’
‘We’re already late.’
He blinks. ‘No, we’re not.’
‘If we arrive on time, we can leave early.’
‘Which we have no intention of doing.’
‘I was happy to drive myself.’
‘And deprive yourself of my company?’
‘I can drive your car while you drink your tea.’
When we arrive at the hotel, a renovated Federation pub with a two-storey extension that incorporates accommodation and function rooms, James insists on a shower and change of clothes, so we arrive at the party almost ninety minutes late. He throws an arm around my shoulders as we stand in the doorway. ‘It’s called making an entrance.’
‘Going by the way everyone is staring, it’s working.’
Kit is standing near the bar with Erik and Ove, the man from the Polar Institute who interviewed me in Martin Roxburgh’s dining room, and a woman with a tight white dress.
‘Isn’t this party for the film people?’
James raises his voice above the music. ‘Kit has a seat on The Dragon Slayers’ advisory board, and there are blow-ins from the documentary team.’
‘There are local luminaries too. Lucas Merewether wants to be a councillor.’ As if sensing my gaze, Lucas splits from the group he was with and walks towards us.
‘If he’s into politics,’ James says, ‘I’m getting out of here.’
‘I want him onside for the documentary, so I’d better stay.’
‘What do you want to drink?’
‘Sparkling apple juice if they have it.’
He gives me an incredulous look. ‘A virgin who drinks apple juice?’
I poke him in the chest. ‘Go get my drink, Young Orlando Bloom.’
James is at the bar when Lucas sidles up to me. ‘Good evening, Mac.’ He’s holding a beer but his breath smells of whiskey. ‘Any improvement in Gordon’s condition?’
‘He’s well, thank you.’
‘I thought I might see Aiden here.’
‘Why is that?’
‘You’re dating, aren’t you?’
‘We’ve been out a couple of times.’
‘I hear you’re hosting another environment association meeting?’
‘The flyers are up all over town.’ I attempt an encouraging smile. ‘Everybody’s invited.’
‘What do you aim to achieve?’
‘Now the engineering and other reports have been finalised and work is scheduled to start, there’s more certainty. Wetlands, bush-land, grazing land—we’re getting a clearer picture of what might happen once the land is rehabilitated. We want the town to get behind the work and support our long-term funding goals. The more money that goes into cleaning up the site, the better it’ll be for all of us.’
‘Environmental controls weren’t as strict as they are now.’ Lucas speaks defensively.
‘Have you been out there lately? It’s a wasteland.’
‘The operator’s income dried up when they were forced to close the mine.’
‘Even before that, attempts at rehabilitation of abandoned sections of the mine were piecemeal and inadequate. The operator had decades to fix—’
‘Mac!’ Lucas runs two fingers inside the collar of his shirt, tugs at the button at the top. ‘Your father spoke to me, lectured me, in the same way you do.’
‘Dad cared about the environment.’
Lucas smiles stiffly. ‘After turning his back on Summerfield, Sam had the cheek to criticise the industry that kept it alive.’
‘He cared about the long-term future of the town.’
‘Let’s move on, shall we?’
‘I don’t know what we’d have to move on to.’
‘As a councillor, law and order will be one of my priorities.’ He sips his beer, lowers his glass. ‘I understand the police apprehended the man who broke into the saddlery. He was a local?’
‘The police don’t think it will happen again.’
‘What was he after?’
Jeremiah told me to keep quiet about the film—if anyone raises it, they could have a connection to Joseph Rossi. I search for alternatives.
‘Nothing was taken, but I engraved replica weapons for the movie. It could have been those.’ As I adjust the neck of my jumper, Kit traps my gaze. I determinedly turn back to Lucas. ‘It’s in both of our interests to portray Summerfield in a positive light, isn’t it?’
‘Naturally.’
‘So far as I know, Kit Thorsen and the documentary team don’t know about the break-ins. I’d prefer to keep it that way.’
‘On this issue, we are in agreement,’ he says, nodding stiffly before walking away.
***
James has been waylaid by an attractive older woman. When two younger women join them, he smiles as all three of them take selfies with him. Finally, he collects drinks from the bar and weaves through the crowd. When he presses a glass into my hand, I sip gratefully.
‘You took your time.’
‘I timed it perfectly.’
When the musicians start up again, he takes my drink away and puts it on the table. ‘Dance with me.’
‘No, thank you.’
Laughing, he puts his hands on my hips. ‘Why do I get propositioned by every single woman but you?’
‘I respect you too much.’
He kisses my neck. ‘I wish to hell you didn’t.’
‘I’m going to thank Erik and Astrid for inviting me, say good-night and then go to bed.’
He looks at me suspiciously. ‘Are you also saying goodnight to Kit?’
‘Is he a host?’
‘He’s been watching you like a hawk.’
‘He mightn’t have approved of our lateness,’ I say primly.
‘Not buying that.’
‘You’re a troublemaker, James Partridge.’
‘And from the look on Kit’s face …’ He moves the jumper aside and kisses my neck again. ‘You’re in trouble.’
***
Kit ignores James’s attempt at a fist-bump by way of goodbye, nodding abruptly instead. He’s dressed in his casual Viking outfit—pale blue linen shirt, navy pants, black leather shoes.
‘Mackenzie.’
‘Kit.’
‘You didn’t call.’
Two deep breaths. ‘No.’
‘Why were you late?’
‘James was late.’
‘I came with Erik and Astrid. They want to leave.’ He frowns. ‘What did Merewether want?’
‘I told him what we’re planning would be good for the town. I invited him to the meeting.’
‘I’ll be away.’
‘Right.’ When ‘Living on a Prayer’ blasts through the speakers and people on the dancefloor sing along, the noise level ramps up.
‘Lucas told me you were dating Aiden Lyon. That’s not true.’
‘How do you know that?’
His eyes narrow. ‘You’re not dating James, either.’
I wrap my arms around my middle. ‘Are you dating Chloe?’
‘She’s nothing to me.’
‘That’s not very nice when you used to care for her.’ I follow his gaze to James, arms above his head as he yells out the words to the song. ‘I like James.’
‘Do you want to be with him?’
I don’t want anybody else. Does he see on my face that nothing has changed since I said those words at my mother’s house? He holds out his hand. I put mine inside. He leans in close, mutters in my ear.
‘I missed you.’ His fingers are cool, mine are warm. ‘Come.’
I hold my ground. ‘Where to?’
He growls under his breath. ‘Away.’
It’s cold outside, but blissfully quiet. When Astrid and Erik appear on the path in front of us, Kit slows his pace but doesn’t let go of my hand. He lifts it briefly, kisses a knuckle.
‘I hate this secrecy.’
‘Then why are you taking me to a secret location?’
‘I have something to tell you.’
As Erik and Astrid head towards the covered portico at the hotel entrance, Kit takes the path to the swimming pool. Cocos palms with skinny trunks and giant fronds are black against the navy-blue sky. As we pass through the gate, Kit’s phone rings.
‘Erik.’
‘Where are you?’ Erik sounds cranky.
‘At the pool. Give me ten minutes.’
Without giving Erik the chance to respond, Kit disconnects, putting his phone in his pocket before taking my hands.
‘Grandpa enjoyed your visit.’ The words rush out. ‘I should have called to tell you that.’
He dips his head. His breath is warm on my cheek. ‘I’m sorry you’ll lose him.’
A frog croaks in the undergrowth. ‘I don’t like to think about it.’
‘You’re afraid.’
For a moment I sway. Then, with a sigh, I lean against him, rest my cheek against his chest. Wrapping his arms around me, he rests his chin on the top of my head. When his phone buzzes in his pocket, his arms tighten. His heart thumps a steady beat. As the phone rings out, he kisses my neck.
‘Kj?reste.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘A term. A name.’
I look up. ‘Is that a literal translation?’
‘Sweetheart. Darling.’ He’s very serious. ‘Do you like it?’
‘Yes.’ My voice is scratchy.
He touches my nose with a fingertip. ‘Do you like anything else?’
‘You didn’t merely plait my hair; you did a French braid. That was impressive.’
He puts hair behind my ear, releases it again. His kiss is a whisper on my mouth. ‘That’s two things.’
When I put a finger on his mouth, he flicks the tip with his tongue. My heart jumps. My thighs tingle. ‘I find you extremely attractive.’
‘Three.’
‘My dog likes you.’
‘Four.’
‘You copied Dad’s film and got me a laptop.’
‘It upset you.’
I like Kit’s honesty. His certainty and confidence. Very occasionally he has a hint of vulnerability, and I like that too. My thoughts spin and tumble.
‘What do you like about me?’
He kisses one eye, then the other. ‘You’re courageous.’
‘I don’t think—’
When he takes hold of my waist, lifts me on my toes and pulls me against him, I trap one of his legs between mine.
‘You’re sensitive.’ He kisses the pulse at my temple. ‘Loyal.’
‘How about reckless? Difficult and dangerous? You were wrong about that, weren’t you?’
‘You’re beautiful.’ His voice is a growl. ‘I like it when you laugh.’
I rub between his brows. ‘You don’t do that much.’
He searches my face. ‘Can I kiss you?’
‘Yes.’
At first, the kiss is careful and tender. But then he takes over my mouth and tongue in a searing, hungry, desperate kiss that sparks every sense yet weakens my knees so I have to grasp onto his shoulders. When his hands slide from my waist to my hips, I press against his leg.
‘Kit …’ His name is a cross between a plea and a groan.
‘Mary Mackenzie.’
The words shouldn’t sound right, but they always do. As does his taste, his scent and his touch. He warms me from the outside in and the inside out. I wrap my arms around his neck and stroke where his streaky Viking hair meets his collar.
His phone buzzes again. ‘You have to go.’ Reluctantly loosening my hold, I stroke the creases I’ve made in his shirt, find a gap between the buttons, touch his skin. ‘Next week, before we go on the hike, you could come to Summerfield early. I could cook dinner, maybe you could stay the night.’
Groaning a little, he nuzzles my neck. ‘Fuck.’ His hands slide from my hips to my waist, and he eases away. ‘Fuck.’
I can be courageous, so … ‘Do you want to come early or not?’
There’s something in his expression. Uncertainty? Concern? He releases me, but immediately takes my hand. He kisses my thumb.
‘I should have told you before.’
My heart sinks. If it’s not Chloe then what—
‘I overruled Astrid. You don’t come on the hike.’
I pull my hand free. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘The terrain is difficult. Your arm troubles you.’
‘I know what I can handle!’
‘I could carry two packs but—’
‘I can carry my own!’ I take a deep breath, lower my voice. ‘My work can be physically demanding. According to the doctors, it’s okay that I get sore at night. So long as I feel okay the next day, I have nothing to worry about.’
‘What if you fell?’
‘Or a camera fell on me?’
‘You fell from Athena.’ His mouth firms. ‘You’re concerned about Gordon.’
‘The hike is only one night. Astrid said we’d be in range so I can get back to Grandpa if I need to.’
‘We’ve changed the schedule.’ His Viking scar is silver in the light. ‘We have a larger team booked for four days, maybe five, at the escarpment to the west of the mine.’
‘This was deliberate, wasn’t it?’ My eyes sting. ‘You did it to exclude me.’
He doesn’t want to answer. Why? He has to tell the truth. ‘I told Astrid to bring the longer hike forward.’
‘You bastard!’
He spikes fingers through his hair. ‘When I sanctioned the hike, I hadn’t met your grandfather. I gave my word you wouldn’t get hurt.’
‘Man to man? Like I have nothing to do with this?’
He unlocks his jaw. ‘When I get back, we can—’
‘No!’
He lifts a hand, drops it. ‘I didn’t trust you to stay close.’
‘Fuck that!’
‘Mackenzie! We can reschedule your hike.’
‘So long as you think I’m up to it? So long as it fits in with what you think is best for me?’
‘After talking to Gordon, I made my decision.’
His Viking shadow is long and dark. The water in the pool shimmers in the moonlight. Something raw and painful twists in my heart.
‘You saw me cry that night. I told you my arm hurt and—’
‘Kit!’ Erik’s voice. Hurried footsteps on the path to the pool. ‘The car is here!’
I hold out both hands to keep Kit at a distance. ‘You’d better get back.’
‘I’ll cancel tomorrow’s meeting. I’ll stay here tonight.’
‘I don’t want to see you.’
‘Mackenzie! Let me—’
‘The documentary comes first. The attraction we have … we had. Forget it.’
‘You’re angry.’
‘I hate you!’
‘Don’t say that.’
‘You were kind to my grandfather.’ My chest is so tight that it hurts. ‘I was grateful.’
‘Mackenzie!’
‘You can braid. You’re good-looking. None of those things mean anything.’
As I push past Kit, the wind picks up and whispers through the palms. Erik, blinking in confusion, unfastens the gate and stands back. A white four-wheel drive is parked under the portico, engine running. Astrid, one foot on the running board, is talking to the man behind the wheel. When I stop midway between the gate and car, Astrid stalks towards us.
‘What’s going on?’ she says.
My nails dig into my palms. ‘I have something to say.’
‘Talk to me.’ Kit speaks gruffly.
‘I can’t trust you!’
Astrid lifts her hands in exasperation. ‘Speak.’
‘Whether Kit and I get on or not, whether we’re in a relationship or not, would only be relevant if it stopped us doing what we’ve agreed to do.’
‘Are you in a relationship?’
‘No.’
Kit crosses his arms. ‘Yes.’
‘This is a complication!’ Astrid snaps.
‘I passed your trial. I want to be involved. You need me.’
‘It’s in all of our interests to make this work,’ Erik says.
‘Kit told me he’s changed the schedule. You’re going on a four-day hike and that rules me out.’
Astrid glances at Kit. ‘Correct.’
‘When do I get to come out with the team?’
After a long hard stare, Astrid pulls out her phone and flicks through screens. ‘At the end of next month is possible.’
‘Send me the dates.’
‘You and Kit working together—I need to know what it looks like.’
‘Camera work, hiking, camping, sketching.’ When my voice wavers, I force words. ‘I’ll do what I promised to do.’