In His Good Hands (22 page)

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Authors: Joan Kilby

Tags: #Summerside Stories

BOOK: In His Good Hands
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T
HE SHRIEKS AND LAUGHTER
of Brett’s young nephews and nieces playing footy filled his parents’ back yard. Ryan and Tom stood on the sidelines, bottles of beer in their hands. Over by the garage Hal was barbecuing lamb chops and sausages.
“Go play with the other kids,” Brett said to Tegan. “I need to talk to your grandpa.”

“I’m not a kid and I never liked playing football,” Tegan said. She went off and he watched as she volunteered to help the women bring out the food and drinks.

Brett grabbed a cold bottle of beer and set a pack-age of thick rib-eye steaks still wrapped in butcher’s paper on the apron of the barbecue. “Hey, Dad. How’s it going?”

“We heard your grand opening was a success. Well done.” Hal switched the barbecue tongs to his other hand and clapped Brett on the back. He tore open the steaks and started placing them on the grill. “What are you doing driving a Ford? Is the Mercedes in the shop?”

“I traded it in.” Brett took an envelope from his pocket and handed it over. “Here’s your five thousand.”

Hal’s smile faded. He made no move to take the money. “You weren’t supposed to know about that.”

“You weren’t supposed to be hit up for cash.” Brett tucked the envelope in the pocket of his dad’s barbecue apron. “I don’t need help.”

“Course you don’t.” But his dad seemed troubled. “Your mother was hoping you’d bring Renita with you today. Didn’t she mention it?”

“Renita and I aren’t together.” The words were like a switch that activated a pain in Brett’s chest. “Excuse me, Dad. I have to talk to Tom.”

He strode across the grass to his brothers. “Hey, guys.” Brett handed a folded piece of paper to Tom. “Could you have a look and tell me if the numbers on this loan repayment plan make sense?”

“You did this?” Tom asked, glancing over the spread sheet.

“That’s why I’d like it checked. And don’t bother suggesting I pay it back over a longer period than five years. That’s not a mistake. I want this debt off my hands as quickly as possible.”

“Let me sit down,” Tom said. “I’ll go get a calculator.” Pulling his reading glasses out of his shirt pocket, he headed into the house.

Ryan glanced over his sunglasses at Brett. “I presume this is about that bit of financial strife you got into with the equipment. Was it worth it in the end?”

Brett nodded. “For the viability of the gym, yes. A thousand times, yes.”

For his personal life? Not so much.

He didn’t want to think about that. Handing his beer to Ryan, he ran out into the game. “Hey, kids, let me show you how to pass that ball.”

“Yay, Uncle Brett!” A chorus of cheers greeted him as he was mobbed by his nephews.

He spent the next thirty minutes giving them tips. Then he retired to the sidelines to reclaim his beer, by now gone warm. He was getting a second beer from the cooler when Tom returned and handed him back his spreadsheet.

“Nothing wrong with your calculations. But between mortgage and loan payments you’ll be eating beans and rice every day for the next five years.”

“I’ll survive.” Brett folded the paper and tucked it back in his pocket. “Thanks, mate.”

Later that night he unlocked the door to the house and let Tegan precede him inside. He was worn-out from a long week, and his footsteps echoed on the marble tiles in the huge foyer. It was a lonely sound.

Brett tried to brush that aside, turning his thoughts back to the rollicking time they’d had at his parents’ place. But the vivid images of three generations crammed into the tiny home only made his palatial house seem more…empty.

Tegan went upstairs to get ready for bed. Brett roamed, ending up at the window overlooking the bay. For once the view of the city lights didn’t console him. The emptiness wasn’t just inside the house. It was in him.

Restlessly, he moved through the quiet rooms to the kitchen. Sliding glass doors opened onto a small backyard crammed with shrubs and wrought-iron benches that were too uncomfortable to sit on. No room here for kids to play football.

He loved Renita. He wanted her back.

Five years was too long to wait.

He needed to learn to be patient. But not that patient.

He pulled his Brownlow Medal out of his pocket and opened the leather case to study the intricate scrollwork in the glow of the security light. He could call up Simon Toltz and sell it again.

But that felt wrong. It wasn’t just that he wanted to keep his medal—which he did, very badly—but selling it would negate the sacrifice Renita had made for him.

“Dad?” Tegan stood in the doorway in her pajamas, ghostly pale in the moonlight streaming through the kitchen window. “Are you okay?”

Funny how things could come to you in a flash. He’d been kidding himself that he clung to this big house for Tegan’s sake…. He’d done it for himself, to show the world what he’d achieved. Ever since he was a teenager he’d struggled to escape his parents’ poverty, make something of himself. He’d had the big house, the fancy car, the six-figure income. None of it had made him happy.

“I’m going to sell the house,” he said to Tegan. “With a smaller mortgage I’ll be able to pay Renita back sooner. What do you think?”

“That’s good.” She fiddled with the hem of her pajama top. “Then will you and she start seeing each other again?”

“I don’t know.” The lightness of a moment ago deserted him as quickly as it had come. “I’m not sure she’ll want me after some of the things I’ve said.”

“Do you love her?”

Slowly, Brett nodded. “Yes, I do. It’s taken me a while to realize just how much.”

Tegan tiptoed in bare feet over the cold tiles and put her arms around his waist. “Then you should tell her.”

T
HE DOORBELL RANG
while Brett was putting on his running shorts and sleeveless tee for the Fun Run.
“Tegan!” Brett called down. “Can you get that?”

Three weeks had passed since the grand opening. The gym continued to thrive. He’d started an online accounting course. His house had just sold. Changes were in motion.

He hadn’t said anything to Renita yet. But finally his life was in order and everything was in place.

“Okay, Dad.” A moment later she gave a surprised squeal. “Mum! What are you doing here?”

“I thought I’d drop in and see how you’re doing,” Amber said.

Brett grabbed his windbreaker and went down stairs.

Amber wore a miniskirt and a halter top that ended north of her belly button. Her long hair was a shiny platinum and her nails were green. The tattoo of a winged dragon wound sinuously up her left arm.

“What’s going on in the village?” she said. “It looks like the circus has come to town.”

“Today’s the Fun Run. Do you want to enter? Maybe if you do, Tegan will reconsider.”

“No, thanks.” She shuddered. “Tegan, honey, you can show me the best place in town for ice cream.”

“There
is
only one place. But it’s good. We can watch the end of the Fun Run from there,” Tegan said. “I’ll get changed.” She ran off, ponytail swinging.

“I can’t believe you’ve made the hour-long journey out here to the ‘sticks,’” Brett said.

Twirling her oversize white sunglasses, Amber strolled into the living room. “I came to get a look at this house you’re selling.”

“Sold,” Brett corrected. “Properties with a view, close to the beach, go fast. Just yesterday I signed the transfer papers.”

She picked up a Maori wood carving and smoothed a thumb over the polished surface. “Have you found another place?”

“I bought a house not far from where my parents live. It’s a bit run-down, but it’s got a big back yard.”

“Run-down?” Amber made a face. “Tegan’s not used to roughing it.”

“I’ve got debts to pay. I’ll enjoy fixing it up a little at a time.”

Amber put down the carving. “I heard you had to sell your Brownlow Medal. That must have hurt.”

“Old news.” He jammed his hands in his pockets. “Do you want a cold drink or something?”

“I didn’t come all this way just for ice cream, Brett. I’m ready to settle. Screw the lawyers. If we keep going like this there’ll be nothing left for either of us.”

Brett closed his eyes. “You couldn’t have come to this conclusion six months ago?”

“When I read in the newspaper about your Brownlow Medal I realized what I was doing to you.”

“You never cared what you were costing me before.”

“Tegan had a go at me the last time she stayed for the weekend.” Amber’s expression was full of regret. “I’ve made mistakes. I haven’t been a very good example to her. She worships
you.

“Well, I’m glad you’ve decided to be reasonable, Amber. Better late than never.”

“So you don’t need to sell your house.”

Brett thought about going back to his flashy lifestyle. Just for a moment he was tempted. But with the end of his football career, the end of his marriage to Amber, he wasn’t that guy anymore. “I’m still going to.”

“Whatever,” Amber said with a shrug. “I’ll have Tegan back in a few hours. Is that okay?”

“She can show you the house on your way. Don’t be put off by the exterior. It’s much nicer inside.”

In fact, it was worse, but he didn’t want Amber to think he wasn’t taking proper care of their daughter.

F
LAGS WERE FLYING
down Main Street and the high school band played in the village square. Crowds lined the sidewalks and spilled into the blocked-off roads.
Renita jogged on the spot next to her dad, who was stretching out his quads. Like the other runners, they wore official bibs with their registration numbers over their T-shirt.

She glanced up at the clouds, now darkening over the bay. “The forecast only called for showers.”

“The weatherman revised that to a possible thunderstorm,” Steve replied. “The front moving in looks ugly.”

Renita tried to find familiar faces and recognized members from the gym and some clients from the bank, as well as a few of her coworkers. No Brett. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.

She’d had little contact with him in the past month, other than seeing him in passing at the gym. He’d paid back his parents and Jack, and he’d promised to repay her in full as soon as he could. She hardly cared about the money. She wanted her pal back.

“Have you seen our fearless leader this morning?” she said to her father.

“He’ll be here,” Steve said. “He wouldn’t miss the run.”

Lexie, her long blond hair a mass of curls in the humidity, pushed through the crowd. “Hetty’s here. She’s come to see you run, Dad. Over there in front of the greengrocer.”

Renita picked out her mother by her short gray hair. When Hetty saw them looking her way, she smiled and waved.

“Huh. Now she shows up,” Steve muttered.

“Go say hello,” Renita urged, giving him a nudge.

“Why should I?”

“Maybe she wants to reconcile.
Go,
Dad.”

“Hey, you two.” Brett wove his way over and clapped a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Looking fit, mate! Remember what I said about pacing yourself.”

“I remember.” Steve turned his back on Hetty. “I don’t forget easily.”

Renita tore her gaze away from her mum’s disappointed expression to find Brett still standing there. With a struggle she forced a smile.
Don’t let him know he hurt you.

“Good luck.” He squeezed her shoulder and leaned down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

What was he doing, kissing her? She searched his face, but another runner claimed his attention.

Her emotions were churning as the organizer called over the loudspeaker, “Participants, find your places. When the gun goes, you’re off!”

Confusion reigned as the runners jostled for position. Brett went up to the front of the pack with Jack. Sienna was somewhere in the middle. Renita and Steve trailed with the less fit crowd.

The starting gun fired. With the blast still ringing in her ears, Renita began to run. Glancing sideways at her father, she grinned. “Did you ever think we’d be doing this?”

Steve grinned back, alert behind his steel-framed glasses. “Not in a million years. I’m stoked.”

“Stoked?”
Renita laughed. Her dad had taken ten years off his attitude in the past three months.

She stopped talking then, saving her breath for the run. The route would take them in a large, roughly rectangular circuit from the village center up to the highway, north for a few miles, then west to the water before running south along the Cliff Road. Finally, they would head up a long, steep hill back to the village square.

She could have gone faster, but she chugged along with Steve. They both needed the moral support. Half an hour in, the heavens opened and the rain that had been threatening all morning poured down. Renita’s legs were burning and mud-splattered as she splashed through a puddle. With her hair plastered in her eyes she couldn’t see beyond the bobbing backs immediately in front of her. Steve huffed and puffed alongside her. His glasses were fogged and patches of red stood out on his cheeks.

Renita got a stitch in her side as they turned south along Cliff Road in the opposite direction to Brett’s house near the end of the cul de sac. The wind whistled over the gray, choppy water, buffeting her. Lightning streaked against the black clouds fifty miles away, on the far side of the bay, followed by the distant rumble of thunder.

The stitch in her side got worse. She pressed on. Ahead of her loomed the big hill leading back to the highway. For the first time Renita wasn’t sure she could complete this. Shielding her eyes, she peered through the pelting rain. The runners had spread out, the leaders already halfway up the hill.

Members of the Rotary Club were handing out cups of water at the side of the road. Renita motioned to Steve and they pulled out of the crowd to have a drink. Her hand shook as she gulped the cool liquid. Tossing the empty cup in the bin, she bent over, palms hot on her rain-wet knees, lungs heaving. She thought about how easy it would be to duck down a side street and walk home.

A hand touched her shoulder. “How are you feeling?” It was Brett.

She lifted her head. “Like I want to die.”

“You’re doing great. You, too, Steve. Way to go, both of you.”

Steve nodded, too winded to speak.

“Why aren’t you up at the front, leading the pack?” Renita asked.

“I’ll run with you and Steve for a while.”

“Mr. Impatience bringing up the rear? That’ll be a first.”

“Never mind the back talk. Are you ready to go again?”

She straightened, shook out her legs. “I’m ready.”

They started jogging up the steep hill. Renita pushed herself so she wouldn’t hold Brett back too much. Steve fell behind a few paces to join another older man who was also struggling. Steve waved at her to go on without him. The rain continued to pelt down. The exertion required all Renita’s breath, but her curiosity was worse than the burning in her lungs.

“What was that kiss about?” she gasped. “Have you decided not to be all macho football player and admit that you needed help?”

“I’m an
ex
-football player,” Brett reminded her.

“You can’t go around giving me run-by smooches. I’ve gone through fifty kinds of hell because of you.” Out of breath, her thighs screaming with pain, she had to slow to a walk. “I was
over
you.”

Brett slowed, too. “Are you still? Over me, that is?”

In the driving rain, with her hair plastered to her face, her clothes sticking to her body, she stared at him. He wasn’t being facetious. He wanted to know.

The hell with him. She couldn’t say it again.

She started to run once more.

“I love you!” Brett shouted from behind her, above the driving rain. “I want us to try again.”

Renita stopped. She should have more pride than to throw herself into his arms. But she didn’t. Her arms went around his neck, and he picked her up and whirled her around before setting her back down and taking her mouth in a kiss so hot that she was sure steam must be rising from their lips.

Renita was dimly aware of runners streaming by them. She caught a glimpse of Steve, head bent, glasses fogged, race-walking past with his new buddy. The rain poured down relentlessly, soaking her through to the skin. She was sore all over, but in the freezing cold she was warm and happy.

At last she eased back, breaking the kiss. “If we don’t get moving we’re going to be last over the finish line.”

Brett brushed her wet hair off her forehead, kissed her dripping cheeks and her nose. “I don’t care.”

“Well, I do. I’ve worked for this.”

She began to run again, her feet pounding the pavement, one in front of the other, up the long hill. As she neared the crest, she increased her pace, spurred on by a burst of energy. At last she staggered over the top onto level ground.

“The worst is over.” Brett wasn’t even breathing hard. “Just three miles to go.”

The worst was over. He was right about that.

“You go on ahead,” she said, knowing his competitive nature. “I’ll see you at the village square.”

“I’m not leaving. Get used to it.” He glanced down at her chest, where her wet T-shirt and bib were glued like a second skin. “You didn’t get the implants.”

“I…changed my mind at the last minute.” In spite of herself, she looked for his reaction.

He gave it to her in one emphatic word. “Good!”

Grinning, Renita plowed doggedly on. She and Brett didn’t talk after that, but it helped having him beside her. They caught up with Steve and jogged beside him and his new friend for a while before gradually pulling ahead. The rain eased, the sun came out and her shoes stopped squelching. From somewhere she got a second wind as she turned away from the highway and down Summerside Road on the last leg of the run, heading into the village.

As they crossed the finish line, Brett got separated from her by other runners, town dignitaries and Fun Run sponsors.

“Party at the gym,” he called to her over the sea of heads. “To celebrate completing the run.”

Someone was calling Brett’s name. A woman. Renita glanced over and recognized Amber from magazine photos. What did
she
want?

Renita turned to her father, surrounded by his mates from the Men’s Shed. She fought her way through the scrum to give him a high five.

Steve whooped and scooped her up in his arm. “We did it, chicken! We ran ten miles!”

Renita hugged him tightly. “It feels damn good.”

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