Playtime. She was on yard duty. Frank hardly ever graced the grounds with his presence, but today the Principal of Banksia Bay Primary wandered out as she supervised play and nudged her, grinning with a leer she hated. ‘I didn’t think you had it in you.’
‘What?’ Frank could be obnoxious, and she suspected he was about to give a display.
‘Nicholas Holt. Taking him home to bed already?’
Great. She might have known Frank would make it into a big deal. Most locals wouldn’t think less of her for taking Nick and Bailey in as tenants, but the school Principal had a grubby mind.
‘And you’ve got a dog,’ Frank said. ‘I thought you were clearing the decks.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘So you could get out of here after your grandmother dies.’
No one else would say it to her face, Misty thought. No one else was so horrible.
But she’d known Frank for a long time, and she was well past the stage where he could upset her. ‘Leave it, Frank.’
‘Don’t do it, Mist.’
‘Sorry?’
Suddenly Frank’s voice was serious. Once upon a time she and Frank had been friends. He was the same age as she was. At fifteen…well, they hadn’t dated but they’d hung out together and they’d shared dreams.
‘I’m going to be a politician,’ he’d said. ‘I’ll go to Canberra, do Political Science. I can make a difference, Mist.’
And then he’d fallen head over heels with Rebecca Steinway and Rebecca had eyes for only one thing-marriage and babies and not necessarily in that order. So, instead of going to Canberra, at eighteen Frank had become a father, struggling to do the same teacher’s course Misty was doing.
Their qualifications were the same. Misty could have applied for the top teaching spot when it became vacant- she’d done a lot better in the course than Frank-but, by the time the old Principal had retired, Frank had three babies and was desperate for the extra money. And now…
‘You’ll be stuck in this dump with a stepkid,’ he said, almost roughly.
‘I’m taking in tenants, not getting engaged. And it’s not a dump. It’s a great place…’
‘To raise a family? Is that what you want?’ Then he laughed and turned away. ‘But of course it is,’ he said. ‘The only one who ever really wanted to get out of here was me. So much for your list, Misty. One dose of hormones and it’s shot to pieces.’
She watched him go, his shoulders slumped. She didn’t feel sorry for him, or not very. He could change what he was. Rebecca was nice, bubbly, cuddly. They had good kids. But staying here…being trapped…
It had changed him, destroyed something in him that was fundamental to who he was, she conceded. Frank was no longer faithful to Rebecca. He was no longer committed to this school.
She closed her eyes. Her list wasn’t important. Was it?
When she opened her eyes, Bailey was being towed to the sandpit by Natalie, the two of them giggling.
Bailey looked like his dad. Nicholas was gorgeous. Nicholas made her feel…
As Rebecca had once made Frank feel?
Stop it, she told herself harshly. Don’t even go there. One day at a time, Misty Lawrence, and don’t you dare pull back because of Frank, or a stupid, unattainable list. If you do, then you risk ending up with nothing.
But, decision or not, she didn’t eat with them that night. Deliberately. Gran was more deeply asleep than usual when she visited her after school but she decided she’d stay on anyway. She did her schoolwork by Gran’s bedside and at eight she finally went home.
Nick was on the veranda, by himself.
Her heart did this queer little twist at the sight of him. Stupid.
He wasn’t by himself, she saw as she got nearer. The two dogs were at his feet and for some reason that made her heart twist all over again.
They looked up and wagged their tails and settled again.
‘Is your gran okay?’ Nick asked, and smiled, and her stupid heart did its stupid back flip with pike. Stop it, stop it, stop it.
‘She’s okay,’ she managed. ‘The dogs?’
‘They’ve been missing you.’
‘Really?’ They’d done their tail wagging. Their eyes closed again. ‘They’re ecstatic to see me?’
‘I’m ecstatic to see you.’
‘At least they wagged their tails,’ she retorted, deciding to treat that remark very lightly indeed.
‘I don’t do a good wag.’
‘Neither do I. Especially when I’m tired.’
Was she tired? No, but it seemed the sensible thing to say. It was a precursor to walking right by him, going inside, closing the door.
‘There’s wine in my refrigerator,’ he said, motioning to the glass in his hand. ‘I’m only one glass down. It’s good wine. I was hoping you’d join me.’
‘I…’ She gathered herself, her books, her resolution. ‘Thank you, no. I need to do some work.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Scared, Misty?’
Scared? Maybe she was, but she wasn’t admitting it. Last night’s kiss had done things to her she didn’t want to admit, even to herself. ‘It’s you who’s scared of risks,’ she managed.
‘I’m not fearful here,’ he told her. ‘And I’m not fearful for me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make my son safe, and he’s safe here.’
She didn’t like that. The tiny sizzle inside her faded, cooled.
Last night’s kiss had started something in her heart that she wasn’t sure what to do with. There was a warmth, the promise of fire, the promise of things to come.
That was the statement of a man who loved his child above all else. As a teacher, she should have warmed to him saying it. She did.
But had last night’s kiss been more of the same? Part of a strategy to make his son safe?
‘I do need to work,’ she said, trying desperately to tighten things inside that needed to be tightened. To sit on the veranda and drink wine with this man…to plan on doing it again tomorrow and the night after…
No. She would not be part of his safety strategy, or no more than she already was.
‘Are the dogs okay?’ she asked, managing to make her voice brisk.
‘They’re great,’ he said. ‘We carried Ketchup down to the beach after school. Took ran about ten miles in wider and wider circles until we all felt dizzy. Ketchup lay on the rug and watched Took and quivered all over. He’ll be running in no time.’
She bit her lip. If she’d come straight home she could have joined them. Maybe Nick and Bailey had been expecting her to come home in time to join them.
It was just as well she hadn’t. Be practical.
‘They’re fed?’
‘They’re both fed. Ketchup’s had his painkillers and his antibiotics. Would you like to take him inside with you?’
She looked down at her dog. He was nestled at Nick’s feet, warm against Took. Took was so thin; she needed Ketchup’s body warmth. And Ketchup would still be hurting. With Took…
With Nicholas…
‘They need each other,’ she said. ‘They’re fine with you.’
‘Ketchup’s supposed to be your dog.’
‘Yours, mine, this is just home.’
‘My thoughts exactly,’ Nick said and rose. ‘Are you sure you don’t want wine?’
