The kiss had felt amazing. Her body had responded in ways she’d never felt before.
‘I’m a lucky girl,’ she told the dogs. ‘Yes, I should burn the scrapbooks.’
But she didn’t. She slung her bag over her shoulder and she went to see Gran instead.
‘Do you want to marry Misty?’
Nick had left enough time for Misty to change and go to the hospital. He was aware he was rushing things. Risking things. Now Bailey tucked his hand into his father’s as they set off towards the house and he asked his most important question.
Did he want to marry Misty?
‘I’ve already been married,’ he said cautiously. ‘It was dreadful when Mama was killed. It takes time for a man to be ready to marry again.’
‘Yeah, but we sailed again.’
‘So we did.’
‘And it was awesome.’
‘It was.’
‘You marrying Misty would be awesome.’
Would it?
It wasn’t his head telling him yes. It was every nerve in his body.
But he wouldn’t rush it. He couldn’t rush it. There were things he didn’t understand.
She didn’t want safe?
She must. To come home… He longed for it with all his heart.
And to come home to Misty…
Home and Misty. More and more, the images merged to become the same thing.
CHAPTER NINE
HOW had they become a couple in the eyes of the town? It had just…happened. There was little gossip, no snide rumours of the Frank variety. There was simply acceptance of the fact that Nick was sharing Misty’s house, he was an eligible widower and Bailey needed a mother.
‘And he’s rich!’ Louise, the Grade Five teacher, did an Internet search and discovered a great deal more information than Misty knew. ‘He can demand whatever he wants for his designs,’ she informed Misty, awed. ‘People are queueing for him to work for them. If I’d realised what we had here I’d have kicked Dan and the kids out of the house and invited him home myself. You’re so lucky.’
That was the consensus. Misty was popular in the town. A lonely childhood with two ailing, elderly grandparents made the locals regard her with sympathy. They knew of her dream to travel, and they knew she couldn’t. This seemed a wonderful solution.
Especially since Nick was just…there. Wherever Misty was.
‘So tell me what sort of steak you like for dinner,’ he’d ask as he collected Bailey from school, making no secret of the fact that they were eating together. Well, why wouldn’t they? The dogs and Bailey insisted the door dividing the house stayed open. Nick was enjoying cooking-‘Something I’ve never been able to try’-and it seemed churlish to eat TV dinners while the most tantalizing smells drifted from the other side.
They settled into a routine. After dinner they’d take the dogs to the beach. They carried Ketchup to the hard sand, set him down, and he sniffed the smells and limped a little way while Bailey and Took bounced and whooped around him.
Then Nick put Bailey to bed while Misty went back to say goodnight to Gran-whose sleep seemed to be growing deeper and deeper-and when she came home Nick was always on the veranda watching for her.
He worked solidly through the day-she knew he did for he showed her his plans-but he always put his work aside to wait for her. So she’d turn into the drive and Nick would be in his rocker, beer in hand. The dogs were on the steps. Bailey was sleeping just beyond.
It was seductive in its sweetness. Like the call of the siren…
Sometimes she’d resist. She did have work to do. When that happened Nick simply smiled and let her go. But, more and more, she’d weaken and sit on the veranda with him. No, she didn’t drink cocoa but it was a near thing. He’d talk about the boat he was working on. He’d ask about her day. And then…as the night stretched out, maybe he’d mention a place he’d been to and she couldn’t help but ask for details. So he’d tell her. Things he’d done. Places he’d been.
She was living her adventures vicariously, she thought. Nick had had adventures for her.
And then the moon would rise over the horizon and she’d realise the time and she’d rise…
And he’d rise with her and always, now, he’d kiss her. That was okay, for kissing Nick was starting to seem as natural as breathing. It seemed right and wonderful-and after a month she thought it seemed as if he’d always been a part of her life. And part of Banksia Bay.
He was painting for the repertory society. He was repairing the lifeboat at the yacht club. He was making friends all over town.
And her friends were starting to plan her future.
‘You know Doreen’s mother’s coming from England next term,’ Louise said thoughtfully one school lunchtime. ‘Doreen would love to get a bit of casual teaching while her mum’s here to mind the kids. If you and Nick were wondering when to take a honeymoon…’
Whoa. She tossed a chalkboard duster at Louise. Louise ducked and laughed but Misty suspected she’d go away and plant the same idea in Nick’s head.
So what? She should be pleased. Nick warmed parts of her she hadn’t known were cold. He held her and he made her feel every inch a woman.
She should embrace this new direction with everything she possessed. She knew she should.
But then Nick would tell her about watching the sunset over the Sahara, or Bailey would say, ‘You remember that humungous waterfall we walked under where there was a whole room behind?’
Or Nick would see a picture in the paper and say, ‘Bailey, do you remember this? Your mother and I took you there…’
And she’d wait until they’d gone to bed and she’d check the Internet and see what they’d been referring to. The dogs would lie on her feet, a wonderful warm comfort, like a hot-water bottle. Loving her. Holding her safe.
Holding her here.
‘So when do you think he’ll pop the question?’ Louise demanded as term end grew closer, and she blushed and said,
‘He hasn’t even…I mean we’re not…’
‘You mean you haven’t slept with him yet?’ Her friend threw up her hands in mock horror. ‘What’s keeping you, girl?’
Nothing. Everything. Louise got another duster thrown at her and Misty went to lay the situation before Gran.
‘I love him,’ she told Gran and wondered why it didn’t feel as splendid as it sounded.
Maybe it was sadness that was making her feel ambivalent about this wonderful direction her life was taking. For Gran didn’t respond; there was no longer any way she could pretend she did. Her hands didn’t move now when Ketchup lay on the bed. There was no response at all.
Oh, Gran…
If she didn’t have Nick…
But she did have Nick. She’d go home from the hospital and Nick would hold her, knowing intuitively that things were bad. She’d sink into his embrace and he’d hold her for as long as she needed to be held. He’d kiss her, deeply, lovingly, but he never pushed. He’d prop her into a rocker and make her dinner and threaten her with cocoa if she didn’t eat it.
He and Bailey would make her smile again.
What more could a girl want?
