Just for Fun (24 page)

“Have them put on their pajamas, when they’re done,” she
called in to Nic. “I’ll fix them a quick tea in a bit. Early bedtime tonight,
after all that.”

He did as she asked, then settled the boys in front of the big
TV to play a racecar videogame, to Emma’s disgust. “It’s not good for them,”
she complained. “Those games are addictive.”

“I don’t think it’ll warp their characters too much,” he
said. “It’s not every day. Just a bit of fun, on holiday.”

“Why do you even have that thing?” she asked. “Do you play
it? That’s hard for me to imagine.”

“Not much, though I’ve been known to take a turn driving a
racecar. If Graham weren’t here, you’d probably see me having a go with Zack.
And sometimes a mate will borrow the bach, or one of my rellies, with kids.
Just one of those things that’s nice to have.
Holiday
things,” he added
firmly. “Indulgences. You can go home again, read the Great Works to him,
discuss art history. Playing a videogame for an hour isn’t going to lower his
IQ, I promise. Just a bit of blokey fun.”

“Anyway,” he went on more seriously, “I want to talk to you.
Come outside with me, will you?” He grabbed his hoodie from the rack, tossed
her jumper to her, and opened the ranch sliders off the lounge. Led her out
onto the wooden deck that wrapped around half the house, around to the back
where steps led to the garden, and the darkness beyond that was the sea.

“Sit down,” he told her. “Because we need to have a chat
about money.”

“Why do I feel like I’m in the headmaster’s office?” she
asked, looking at him in the faint illumination cast by a single outdoor bulb.
“I think I’d prefer to stand, if you’re going to yell at me about Zack’s
gumboots. I didn’t know he’d outgrown them, or I’d have bought him new ones. We
had a bit of car trouble last month, and things were tight, that’s all. And why
do you get to criticize how I’m taking care of him, anyway? Or how I’m
budgeting? I appreciate your buying him new ones, but that still doesn’t give
you the right.”

“Wait, what? I’m not criticizing you. I’m just saying, money
shouldn’t be tight now. Because I know you got that first maintenance payment,
beginning of the month. No need for him to worry about telling you his boots
are too small. And time to think about looking for a new place, too.”

“With one payment? That let me pay off the card, after that
car trouble. And gave me some peace of mind,” she admitted. “And I
told
you.
I’d have bought him new boots, if I’d known. That was
last
month, that I
was worried. But it’s way too early to think about shifting house.”

“I don’t like you living in that dodgy place, though. You
or
Zack. With spiders,” he reminded her.

“I don’t think spiders confine their activities to cheap
flats. And Zack’s settled at school. If we moved, he’d end up someplace new,
and that’s way too much change. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with my flat.
All right, it’s not flash. And it isn’t tidy, but that’s not the flat’s fault. I
have Mrs. Harrison there, and that’s massive. Not just that she’s willing to
watch Zack from time to time, but that I know she’s there in an emergency, and
so does Zack.”

“But you should be someplace better,” he said in frustration.
“I’m . . . I’m embarrassed to have you both there. To have people know you’re
there. To have you living like that, while I’m . . . while I’m where I am.”

“Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. But you must see, that’s
not my problem. I have to do what’s right for
us.
And anyway, you’ve
paid me once.
Once.
I’d be stupid to assume my life’s all roses now, and
get in over my head. The deposit alone, and the payment to the realtor—that’s a
month’s rent. Which I don’t have. And then the moving expenses, and the higher
rent . . .” She made a helpless gesture. “I told you, money’s not my best
thing. But at least I’ve learned, now, to think first. To recognize when
something’s beyond my means.”

“And I told
you
,” he said impatiently. “Oliver’s
working on that lump sum. And I can help, in the meantime.”

“I’m not spending that! Come
on,
Nic. That’d be
beyond irresponsible. That’d be crazy. That’s Zack’s insurance! I mean to put
it aside for him. For his education. And for an emergency, in case something
happens to me. I have life insurance if the worst happens, but what if I got
sick, or in an accident? I lie awake nights, worrying about that.”

“He’d have me, wouldn’t he? There’s no reason for you to lie
awake at all. And I’m not planning on putting all my money in gold mines, you
know. It’ll be there, when it’s time for Uni. And so will I.”

“I hope so,” she said. “I hope you will. But I know
maintenance ends at eighteen. And I have to be
sure.
He’s my
responsibility. I’m all he has.”

“Nah, you’re not.” He could feel his blood pressure rising,
the frustration mounting. Why wouldn’t she
see?
Why’d she have to be so
bloody obstinate? “You’re
not
all he has. He has me. Legally now as
well. And I’m not going anywhere. Why can’t you wrap your little mind around
that?”

“Don’t call me stupid,” she warned him, her posture becoming
rigid. “Don’t you dare! I am not stupid!”

“What the hell? I never said you were stupid!” How was this
conversation getting away from him so badly?

“You said my mind was little. My mind isn’t little. My mind
is just as good as yours!”

“I didn’t mean . . .” He stopped. He couldn’t see any way
out of this. Suddenly, instead of being in the right as he knew he was, he was
on the back foot, struggling for territory. “Aw, shit. You’re stubborn as hell,
you know that?”

“I’m stupid
and
stubborn?” Her eyes were flashing
nine kinds of danger signals now.

“You’re stubborn. Not stupid. I didn’t
say
that. And
I want to kiss you, damn it!”

“What?”

“That’s what I’m asking myself. You’re frustrating the hell
out of me just now. So why do I want to put my hands on you so badly?” He took
a step closer, rested a palm on the wall behind her. “Right. Trying to focus
here. I want you out of there. I want you both someplace better. And I’m ready
and willing to help you do it. I wish I could make you do it now, but I can’t
see how.”

“You can’t,” she told him, her eyes intent on him, her lips
parting as he leaned over her. She was leaning into him a bit too, he could
tell, her breath still coming fast. “You can’t make me.”

 “Reckon I’d better just kiss you, then.” He pulled her into
him, and she felt as good there as she always had. Soft, and warm, and curvy,
fitting him like she’d been created just for him to hold. He settled his mouth
over hers, did his best not to grab her, to keep it gentle. Felt her sigh, her
mouth parting for him, and suddenly it wasn’t gentle at all. Her arms came
around him, her hands went to the back of his neck, slid down his back as if
she wanted to feel all of him, the same way he wanted to feel all of her. And
then her hands were under his T-shirt, moving greedily over him, and he was
backing her all the way up against the wall. Kissing her neck, reaching his own
hand inside the neckline of that stretchy shirt to hold her. Feeling the
softness of her, the perfect shape of her breast filling his hand, the warmth
of her skin. Hearing the moan she couldn’t suppress as his teeth grazed the
side of her neck, his thumb moved over a nipple that hardened at his touch. He
reached the other hand around, cupped her bottom in the soft denim, lifted her
off her feet, and pressed himself into her. Felt every centimeter of her body melting
against his own, and wanted to keep going, closer and closer, more and more,
until he was inside her. Now.

“Nic.” Her breathless voice came dimly through the roaring
in his head.
“Nic.”

She was pushing at him, he realized. He came back to himself
with an effort, set her down. She moved away from him, breathing hard, and he
leaned his forehead against the wall, tried to compose himself.

She ran her hands over her hair, smoothing it back into
place. “Wow,” she said shakily. “I didn’t know
that
was going to
happen.”

He stood up straight to look at her, his heart rate slowing
a bit at last. “I thought I could keep my hands off you. It’s just that you
still look so good. Everything about you. Like exactly what I want. And ever
since I saw you again, it’s like my body . . . remembers. And it wants to do it
all again.” He smiled at her ruefully. “My brain doesn’t seem to have a lot to
say about it.”

“Yeah,” she sighed. “That’s pretty much it, isn’t it? But not
. . . not now. Not with the boys right there. I think we’d better go back inside,
get our own showers, and find a couple of chaperones to keep us under control.
For now, anyway.”

She was glad they had the boys, an excuse to take some
time, regain her equilibrium before she made any decisions she might regret. It
felt right to be working in the kitchen with Nic to fix a simple dinner of
bangers and mash, to give him the sausages to fry while she mashed potatoes and
put together a salad. To eat at the big table while Nic displayed his
surprising knowledge of cave formation and geology, drew pictures to show the
boys how stalactites and stalagmites were formed.

“How do you know all this?” she asked him.

“Did a couple geology papers, at Uni. And I grew up in En
Zed. I’ve spent a fair few hours in caves.”

“Wait a minute. Back up,” she commanded. “I thought you
didn’t finish Uni.”

“When did I tell you that?”

“On the plane, remember? To Fiji?”

“You
remember
that?”

“Why? I wasn’t
that—
”
She broke off, glanced
at the boys, started over. “I wasn’t so . . . far gone that I don’t remember.”

“Did my first year and a half,” he explained, “while I
played. And then it got too hard to do both, so I quit. I do plan to go back,
when I’m done playing.”

“And study what?”

“Haven’t decided,” he admitted. “Engineering, maybe.”

“What’s funny?” he demanded. “You don’t think I can? I’m
pretty good at maths.”

“No,” she got out, giggling helplessly into her serviette by
now. “I can’t tell you now. Later.”

“Right,” he said when they had the boys in bed and were
sitting on the couch in the lounge, a bottle of wine on the couch in front of
them and glasses in hand. “Why is the idea of my being an engineer so bloody
funny?”

“It’s not you,” she said, the giggles rising again. “It’s
me.
You
weren’t drunk. Maybe you remember what David—my reluctant
groom—did for a living.”

“An Assistant Professor of Sanitary Engineering,” Nic
quoted.

“Yeah,” she smiled. “And where do I work now?”

“An engineering firm.” He began to laugh himself. “You seem
doomed to repeat your mistakes.”

“I’m starting to think, though,” she told him, “that there
are engineers and engineers.”

He pulled her to him, kissed her forehead. “Think I’ll be
able to avoid getting dull, do you?”

“Yeah,” she sighed, letting him hold her. “I think you just
broke the mold.”

They stayed like that a minute longer before she sat up
again. “You said you’d like to see some pictures of Zack, so I brought his baby
book. Want to look at it now?”

“Shifting gears again, are we?” he smiled. “Yeh, I’d like to
see it.”

She got up and went into her bedroom, came out again with the
scrapbook.

“You spent some hours on this,” Nic commented as she opened
it to Zack’s newborn photo. “It looks professional.”

“I wanted it to be nice,” she said. “I wanted him to have it
when he was grown, and to know that he was . . . wanted. Loved.”

“Yeh.” He cleared his throat. “Yeh, I see that. He wasn’t a
looker, though, was he?” he said doubtfully, looking at the swaddled figure,
puffy eyes scrunched shut, skin peeling, a tuft of black hair sticking straight
up. “And why is his hair black?”

“He was beautiful,” Emma said hotly. “He was a newborn. He
was big, and late in coming, and he got a little squished, that’s all. And
their hair falls out, and comes back in the color it’s going to be. Didn’t you
know that?”

“Nah. Haven’t been around many babies.”

He peered at another picture, taken a week or so later.
“Looks a bit better in this one,” he offered. “Are you sure this is the right
baby, though? Because his eyes are blue.”

“All Pakeha babies’ eyes start out blue, too. Same thing.
Takes a while.”

“Is there a photo of you, earlier?” he asked.

“You don’t want to see that,” she objected. “I was as big as
a house.”

He looked down at her, the smile reaching all the way to his
eyes. “I want to see. House and all.”

She sighed in resignation, turned back a page. “Don’t say I
didn’t warn you.”

“Whoa.” He looked at the snap, the taut round belly swelling
heavily over the top of her bikini bottom. “You weren’t joking. Who took this?”

She smiled softly in remembrance. “Lucy. Of course. Taking
me to the beach so I could float in the salt water, defy gravity for a bit. I
got pretty grouchy there, that last week when he wouldn’t arrive. It was hot,
too, which just made everything worse. I said we’d be scarring everyone else
there for life, showing them that, but she insisted. And it was fun. I was so
scared, and so tired by then. But that day was fun.”

 “I’m sorry,” he said, sobered. “That you had to do it
alone.”

“I wasn’t alone,” she pointed out. “I had my sister. Then,
and afterwards.”

“She lived with you by then?”

“Yeah. I don’t know what I would have done, without her.
While Zack was tiny. When I went back to work. No sleep, not knowing what I was
doing, just trying to cope.” She touched another picture of herself, belly
still huge but covered this time, next to her sister. Their arms around each
other.