THE REBEL AND THE RICH GIRL (13 page)

“It was selfish of me. How can you ever forgive me?”

“What’s there to forgive? I don’t understand.” She shook her head in confusion.

“Of course you don’t. You have nothing to compare it to.”

“And I’m saying you did.” She knew it was daring to say it, but she did anyway. “There’s always next time.”

He stared at her for what seemed like a long time, his expression still strained. “You’ll let there be a next time after that botch up?”

“Why not? We’re going to spend a whole week together, aren’t we?”

“You’re wonderful, you know.” He rolled onto his side and hugged her to him, the course damp hair on his chest tickling her breasts.

“So are you.”

For a while Nicole lay with her head tucked into the crock of his arm, listening to the noises of the city through the open window. Far away a car horn sounded. A cricket started chirping in a nearby garden. A door clicked shut down the hall.

“Philip? Are you still awake?”

“Mmmm.”

“Remember how I said you were the last person I’d want in my bed.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the only person I want in my bed.”

He chuckled. “I’m glad I managed to change your mind.”

So was she. “Good night Philip.”

A beam of sunlight slanting across the bed woke Nicole the next morning. She blinked, wishing she had drawn the curtains more fully. Rolling away from it, she prepared to try and get some more sleep, but when she collided with the man beside her, her eyes shot open again.

Philip was lying on his back, breathing deeply. Sleep softened the angular lines of his handsome face. He looked younger somehow, with his thick dark lashes resting against the high planes of his cheekbones.

The bedclothes were twisted around his hips. Nicole leant on her elbow to study him more closely. There were things about him she hadn’t noticed the night before; such as a small mole on his upper arm. Sliding her eyes down his torso she spotted the bruise she had given him and a scar which she assumed had been from the ruptured appendix he’d told her brother and father about. Another ran up under his ribcage. Because it was partially obscured by the hair growing across his chest she could understand why she hadn’t noticed it before. She reached out and traced her index finger along it, wondering how it had gotten there.

She felt him flinch under her touch. Her gaze shot to his face, to see his eyes open and staring back at her.

“I was just admiring the scenery,” she admitted.

“So was I. The sun shining in your hair makes it more gold than red.” He brought his hand to the tangle of curls spilling across her naked shoulder. His action made her aware that she was exposing most of her body to him. She reached for the sheet, attempting to pull it up.

“It’s too late for modesty, my dear. I’ve seen every beautiful centimetre of you already,” he said, drawing her to him. She shivered with pleasure when she felt his warm skin against hers.

“How about a good morning kiss,” he urged.

Nicole brought her lips to his, kissing him the way he had kissed her the night before.

“You’re learning fast.”

Encouraged, Nicole moved to kiss his neck, then his chest. She traced her tongue over his small male nipples the way he’d teased hers. She felt his fingers in her hair, as she kissed the jagged scar she’d noticed earlier.

“How did you get that?” she murmured against his skin.

“Get what?”

“This scar.”

She felt him tense, and brought her head up to look into his face. His eyes narrowed, and his mouth compressed into a thin taunt line. Then he turned his head away from her, but she didn’t miss the depth of pain in his eyes.

“Philip?”

“Car accident,” he admitted finally.

She moved to touch his cheek, but he refused to look at her. “Was it really bad?”

“Yes... Other people were killed,” he said tightly.

“Your parents?”

Forcing her away from him, he sat up abruptly. Then he swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Nicole watched him disappear into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. She collapsed back onto the bed. He’d been in the car crash which killed his parents. She was certain he’d seen them die. The accident had scarred him, both physically and mentally. Oh Philip. Don’t shut me out, not now that we’ve come this far.

The horror and agony tore through him as thought it was happening all over again. And this time it wasn’t a nightmare he could push away by doing something else. But his memory wasn’t going to let him.

Philip gripped the wash basin and doubled over with bile in his throat. He thought he was going to be sick, but instead he recalled the vivid clarity of the car rolling over and over as it left the road, its occupants flung against metal and each another, before the vehicle came to rest almost level again at the bottom of an embankment.

Dazed and aching, Philip had lain there with his face pressed to the glass, wondering what that shrill noise behind him was.

It took him a few moments to realize what had happened, and that noise was his little brother screaming in agony.

With his head still spinning, Philip had turned to the horrific sight he’d managed to block from his mind all these years.

Michael’s four year old face was awash with agony, and the rest of him was covered in blood. It made Philip want to scream himself. He cast his gaze to his sister, twelve year old Elaina. She sat in her seat staring back at him in stunned horror.

“A – are you all right?” Philip asked her.

“I – I don’t know. I – I can’t feel my legs. You – you’re covered in blood, Phil.”

But it was Michael that worried him more. The little boy’s shrieks were easing, and Philip could see why. His breathing was becoming ragged, and he started gasping for air, but the agony never left his little face. Philip wanted to comfort him but wasn’t sure if he should move him. He was afraid to even touch him. There was so much blood everywhere. He could see it still seeping from a terrible wound on the child’s side.

A movement in the front seat made him turn his head. This was followed by a jab of pain and more nausea. His step-father, Mario, was getting out of his seat. He was trying to climb out of the car window.

“Mum!” Philip called, because he couldn’t see her in the passenger seat from the angle he was at. There was no response. She can’t be dead, he thought for a terrifying moment. “ Eliana! Can you see Mum?”

“She’s not moving. Why can’t I feel my legs?” she pleaded again.

“They’re stuck I guess.” Phil couldn’t really see them either. Twilight was fast approaching and little Michael’s ragged gasps for air really worried him. “Where are the God-dammed cops when you need them?” They had been coming round asking questions for weeks now, questions about Mario none of them could answer.

Mario managed to get out of the car and Philip saw him stagger away from them. “Get help will you,” Philip yelled after him. “Don’t you
dare
leave us here!”

No answer came from the evening gloom outside the car.

Suddenly Philip could no longer hear Michael breathing. He looked down to see the little boy give one more shuddering breath before he closed his eyes.

“Mikey. Mikey. Wake up!” Philip said, touching the boy’s face, but he knew Michael wasn’t really asleep.

He was dead.

He’d died right there in front of him.

“Mikey,” Philip sobbed. Tears poured down his cheeks as he gathered the small boy up into his arms, his own pain forgotten as he cried out his grief and agony and loss.

Philip’s revelation changed everything. There was an underlying tension in him that hadn’t been there before. A heavy silence settled between them, and Nicole was wary of saying anything which might antagonize him further, so when he insisted on driving she didn’t object. Neither did she say anything about having heard him sobbing in the bathroom, knowing he was far from ready to talk to her about it. The look he had given her on opening the door a good half hour later, made her think twice about questioning him.

Yet it made her wonder why no one else had said anything about the scar on his chest, a long buried reminder of something too terrible to recall. Something told her that Philip had never been given the opportunity to deal with his parents’ death. He had simply done what they used to tell people to do in the days of old; be strong, get on with your life and leave the past behind. And now it had come back to haunt him, making him edgy and silent.

They headed along the north coast, taking the sea road. Nicole tried to enjoy the scenery, which had changed from undulating hills, scattered with farms, to rugged cliff tops and treacherous inlets. Philip’s driving didn’t help matters either. No doubt he still thought he was behind the wheel of his sports car, but she didn’t say anything about it.

She hoped he would open up of his own accord. It wasn’t only from her studies that she’d learnt the best way to overcome grief was to talk about it, and she suspected Philip had never had anyone to share it with.

The austere expression on his face reminded her of the first time they had met. Now she knew it was because he was nursing a silent anguish he didn’t want anyone to know about. It made her wonder whether something that night at the yacht club had brought back some of those painful memories, for he’d looked at her with such grimness it had been almost frightening. The only difference was that now she cared, and wanted to help him, but for once her social work skills seemed to have deserted her. There was no way Philip would talk to her if he suspected she was using her training on him.

They had lunch at Burnie in a park, before setting off for the city of Devonport. The afternoon became overcast so they stopped at several craft shops and art galleries where Nicole bought some souvenirs for Gail and Trisha. She rang her parents’ at one of the country towns they passed through, having forgotten the previous evening due to her weariness. Gail informed her that Trisha was home and resting comfortably. She hadn’t heard from the yacht but assumed they were still enjoying their sail up the Tasmanian cost.

When she told Philip he merely shrugged. His silence was starting to get to her. Sure he’d been responding to every question and suggestion put to him, but she knew he was a million miles away. He hadn’t even touched her since the morning, and she knew if she hadn’t said anything about his scar, he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her. She didn’t regret asking him about it, merely the fact that he preferred to clam up about it.

“Where to now?” he asked, once they were back in the car.

“We could always find a nice deserted beach. I feel like walking barefoot along the sand.”

“Sure. Lead on McDuff. You’re the navigator.”

Nicole couldn’t have found a more blissful spot if she’d tried, The beach was virtually deserted. Even though there was a strong westerly blowing, she still stripped off her shoes and socks, rolled up her jeans, and set off across the coarse sand.

They walked at a brisk pace, but Philip was soon way ahead of her. Perhaps the exercise would help work off some of his inner turmoil, she thought, but somehow she doubted it.

Nicole made her decision, as his figure turned into a speck in the distance. She
would
get him to talk things through. She knew that if she didn’t their relationship would go no further.

She finally caught up with him. He’d stopped walking and was sitting on the sand, resting his elbows on bent knees.

“I love the beach, don’t you?” she remarked, glancing back out to sea, noticing how the ocean changed from crystal blue to deep green, and finally turquoise closest to the horizon.

He didn’t reply, merely continuing to gaze unblinkingly at the wide expanse of water, broken at intervals by the timeless foaming of waves against the white sand.

“Does it still hurt so much?” she asked tentatively.

At least that got a response. He brought his hands to his hair, raking his fingers through it.

“I’m a really good listener, if you want to talk about it,” she persisted.

“They trained you well, didn’t they?” His sarcasm hurt, but Nicole knew better than to rise to the bait.

“I’m not talking as a social worker now. I’m talking as someone who cares about you, and wants to help you.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help, let alone some innocent little graduate.”

Nicole had trouble containing her own anger by now, but then she thought he wasn’t really mad at her, merely the unfair way he’d lost his parents. “I’m sure you’d like to believe that, but we all need someone to talk to, someone to share our troubles with. You helped me with a problem last night. You were so- um- gentle and tender that I forgot the first time usually hurts.”

“The two situations can hardly be compared, Nicole,” he said tightly.

She reached out, placing her hand over his. “I know that.”

“I’ve never told anyone about it.” His voice quivered. “No one but the police. That was bad enough...” He removed his hand from under hers. “No, Nicole I can’t do it. Not yet. Please understand? I’ll deal with this my own way. You’re the first person who’s ever commented on that damned scar, so maybe you can understand why I reacted the way I did.”

“Of course, I understand. I can’t force you to talk about it, but that might be the first step in getting over it.”

“I’m over it, damn it. It happened years ago, for goodness sake.”

“No, you’re not, not by a long shot.”

“Yeah, you’d know. You’ve studied social work for four years... I’m sorry. I don’t mean to rubbish your profession... Let’s head back. It looks like it might rain soon.” He motioned towards the horizon, and the dark haze of massing clouds.