All Saints: Love and Intrigue in the Stunning New Zealand Wilderness (The New Zealand Soccer Referee Series Book 1) (11 page)

“Don’t understand.” I hugged him
harder and felt the exasperation in the tightness of his body.

“I fire blanks; I can’t have
kids,” he hissed.

“Oh. I assumed you didn’t want
them,” I replied. “You always said you didn’t.”

“It was unlikely I could. Lacey
knew that right from the start and accepted it. Then all of a sudden, she wants
a baby so much she finds a guy and gets herself pregnant.” Jack’s head shake
grazed my shoulder. “Bloody hell! This is so messed up.”

“Do you still love her?” I asked,
feeling the pent up emotion through his muscles.

“I’ll always love her,” he
sighed. “But I can’t forgive what she did.”

“Did the chemotherapy for that
tumour in your knee cause it?” I asked and Jack nodded against my shoulder.
“Sorry,” I whispered. “I didn’t know.”

Jack swallowed and his fingers
moved against my flesh, sending shivers of excitement to my brain. His cast
felt scratchy and rough as his hand moved upwards so his fingers cupped my
breast. He shifted, his interest growing and I allowed myself to be fooled by
childhood desire and fantasy as he moved across me, balancing himself over me
on his elbows. His clothed body felt taut and hard against mine and his kisses
on my neck left damp trails of ecstasy. The old me would have relished his
sexual attentions and given anything he demanded with a willingness born of
idol worship. He could have used and abused me and I would have been grateful
enough to thank him for it.

I lay still and analysed myself
with a coolness which surprised me as my childhood crush nibbled my breast
through my pajama top. The fingers of his good hand grappled with the elastic
of my shorts and began to tug as his lips found mine. His kiss held
desperation, stale sherry and sleep, but in his eyes I saw pain.

“No!” I pushed at Jack’s chest
and it felt an age before he stopped and rolled onto his back. I sat up and
hugged my knees, his fingers brushing against the small of my back. I wavered,
his gentle movements causing erotic sensations to addle my brain.

“Why?” he whispered.

“I just can’t.” My feet hit the
floor and I stood, gathering my fallen hair into a ponytail behind me and
yanking a scrunchie from the dresser when I couldn’t find the other one,
suspecting it would be in the hall where Teina dislodged it. At the thought of
him, I felt a stab of guilt and left the room, ignoring Jack’s use of my name.
In the kitchen I slugged a glass of water and then another, as though ridding
myself of the taste of Jack’s kisses.

He followed me and leaned against
the doorframe, his eyes downcast in misery. “I feel like I should apologise,”
he mused, his tone heavy with regret. “But I’m not sorry.”

“You’re married!” I exclaimed.
“I’m not interested in messy relationships with married men. My life is
complicated enough.”

“It should’ve been you and me who
got married, Ula, not you and Pete.”

I slammed the glass down on the
counter, hearing the tinny click as a crack began in the outer layer and worked
its way up to the rim. “Are you freaking kidding me?” My voice sounded ugly as
a screech and Jack took a step backwards. “You never liked me in that way!”

“Of course I bloody did!” he bit,
his face angry. “Always! I wanted to take you to the school ball in fifth form
and your dad threatened to break my legs! So I took Lacey instead and the rest is
history. Jordan promised it would never happen so I gave up. The day you
married Pete I got so drunk at the reception, I don’t remember the next two
days.” Jack hovered in the doorway, repelled by my expression of painful
astonishment.

“Dad did what?”

“I thought you knew.” Jack’s
crossed the distance in two strides and his arms wrapped around me, tightening
into a powerful hold. He kissed my forehead and dragged his lips down the side
of my face in a hail of kisses. “It was always you; I didn’t want anyone else.”

“But Lacey! You married Lacey!”

“I know.” Jack leaned back and
watched the horror in my expression. “I’m sorry.”

“You broke my heart!” I slammed
my fist into his chest and he grunted. Tears of fury pricked behind my eyes and
I hit him again. “I loved you and didn’t know how to say it. One minute you’re
everything to me and the next, you’re marrying Lacey!”

Jack gripped both my wrists with
his left one to stop me pounding on his chest. My angry shrieks turned to
miserable wails as he held me and rocked me against his body. “I’m sorry, Ula,”
he breathed, “I’m so sorry. I thought you knew and didn’t care.”

“Didn’t care?” My chest heaved.
“That afternoon when you kissed me, I thought I’d never been happier.” I freed
my left hand and hit him again. “Then you asked Lacey to the ball and two
seconds later you were married.”

Jack’s lips against mine felt
like an answer to prayer and I wished I could send us both back in time to our
teens and start again. Maybe we could’ve saved ourselves a whole heap of
trouble. He pushed his hands into my hair and ran me up against the pantry
door, the handle digging into my spine. His cast felt heavy on my shoulder as
he stroked my cheek, his other smoothing the skin over my hips and pushing at
my pajama shorts. I leaned in to his kiss, sharing the frantic wave of emotion
and surfing the crest like a frightened novice.

He lifted me with a hiss of pain
at his broken wrist and sat me on the counter, fitting his hips between my
legs. His good hand roved over my body, making me feel stripped and vulnerable
and despite the excitement and craving, I remembered Teina’s gentle, energetic
lovemaking. The memory jarred me and I pressed my mouth against Jack’s collar
bone, abdicating from his kiss and experiencing a stab of regret which began in
my gut and moved through my chest. The realisation bit me with force and I knew
it wouldn’t work. Fifteen years made a world of difference in my perception and
even though I loved Jack no less than I did during our only teenage fumble, I
couldn’t see us together.

“Stop, Jack. Stop.”

I felt his rapid heartbeat through
my own chest and his ragged puffs of breath made his body tremble. His dark
eyes channelled betrayal as he glared at me with thwarted desire. I fixed my
arms around his neck and held him, pulling him into a tight embrace and leaving
no room for lust or sex. “It’s too late,” I whispered into his ear. “We’re not
kids anymore.”

I expected anger, not brokenness
and his reaction destroyed me. He shook in my arms and soaked my hair with his
tears, clinging on to my waist as though he’d be snatched away if he let go.
“What should I do?” he sniffed, keeping his face averted and his arms clamped
around me as he struggled to find his equilibrium. “I feel so lost.”

“I don’t know, Jack,” I
whispered, rubbing his back. “You need to speak to Lacey, not me.”

“I loved you so much,” he
breathed, stroking my cheek with shaking fingers. His eyelashes looked glossy
and damp from his tears and his bedhead accentuated his fragility.

“I wish I’d known,” I said,
sadness enveloping me in a shroud of lost opportunities and a life lived on the
dreadful stage of Plan B. “Everything would’ve been so different.” I smiled
through the pain and searched for the elusive rainbow. “I wouldn’t have become
a fat chick.”

Jack wrinkled his nose. “I never
noticed.” He looked down at my slender waist and neat breasts and gave me a
wink filled with fake bravado. “You’re pretty hot now though. Sure you don’t
fancy a quick one for old time’s sake?”

My mouth opened in horror and
Jack covered it with his lips. When he stepped back and let go of me, regret
coursed through my veins at the shift in our combined universe. I rested my
hands on his shoulders and slipped off the counter, bracing myself against his
body as my feet found the floor. “Did you love Pete?” he asked, stroking my
cheek with tender fingers.

I shook my head and admitted my
life’s worst secret. “No. I married him because my father made me and he left
me with more debt than I knew how to solve. He didn’t love me, nor I him. We
were thrown together for the Saint’s convenience; the fat spinster and the one
man who would bring the Saint’s into disrepute for his whoring.” I felt a stab
of guilt at the pain in Jack’s face and as he opened his mouth, I placed my
index finger over his lips. “And no, he didn’t stop whoring and no, he didn’t
get it from me either.”

I glanced at the clock and saw the
hands move past the half hour. “I’ve got work,” I said, dashing from the
kitchen. “Grab some breakfast while I have a shower.”

Thursday turned to custard from the moment the
children entered the building. A windy day always guaranteed drama but the tiny
tornadoes whipping up leaves and debris in a sheltered corner of the playground
wound them up into a frenzy of emotion. Helen dealt with two spats in the line
on the way in and I ended up with a sobbing child on my knee during
registration, hemorrhaging tears and snot onto my blouse until it soaked
through to my skin. “Come on, Lawrie,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Help me
take the register.” I shifted so I could see the names written on the left of
the floppy book. “I’ll call them out and you point to them.”

The
child spent a happy five minutes pointing to random parts of the page while I
called out names and received a polite, “Good morning Mrs Saint,” from those
present. To my surprise Lawrie fixed on his own name before I got to it,
turning with a beatific smile on his face.

“A
mornin’ a Saint,” he said, his face eager as I nodded and shook his hand as
Helen had done the other children. A formal acknowledgement of their existence
seemed to set them up for the day as they greeted me and her with good eye
contact and a smile. If I taught them nothing else, it would be social skills
and a damn good handshake; firm but not finger crushing. We were getting there.
I needed to remember they were only five-years-old as I kept my expectations
high and drove them on to better things than the sad lives some of them
endured.

Jack
texted me and I read it at lunchtime. ‘
Can I stay with you for a while?
’
he asked and I chewed my lip and wondered about the wisdom of it. I bought a
sandwich from the dairy next to the school and wandered around the playground
during my duty, answering after a colleague relieved me.

‘
Depends
,’
I said, hoping he understood my reservations.

‘
Yeah,
I get it. Hands off
,’ came his reply.

‘
Ok
then. Spare keys are on the hook in the kitchen
.’

He
didn’t reply but once I finished work I travelled to the BMW garage where I’d
been five months before, forced to sell my lovely car at a loss and bussing
home with a bag full of cash and a wounded heart. Hemi greeted me at the front
gate, almost bowling me over in his enthusiasm. “Hey, Mrs Saint!” he trilled
from twenty metres away. “I’ve got a treat for you.”

Relief
coursed through my veins as I’d spent the whole bus ride anticipating
difficulty and running through a conversation which began with him knowing
nothing about Terry’s promise. “I spoke to Mr Saint,” he said, allaying my
fears. “We’ve picked out just the thing.”

I tried
not to cringe and prepared my face to mask disappointment when presented with a
barely roadworthy heap of metal. So fixed on looking for something disguised as
a skip on wheels, I missed the direction he took me until I stood next to a
cornflower blue SUV, complete with alloys and a leather interior. The motif on
the front claimed it was a German built BMW but I didn’t dare hope. “Are you
sure?” I asked. “I thought it would be less...”

“Less
colourful, I know,” Hemi gushed. “But Mr Saint said you’d love it. It’s taxed
and the warrant of fitness starts from today. It’s only four years old so it’ll
do you for a while. I like to think of it as eye catching and only someone as
classy as you could pull it off.” He waxed lyrical for a further ten minutes,
despite not having to sell it to me. Uncle Terry was right. I loved it.

“It
looks expensive.” I chewed my lip. “Is it legal?”

Hemi
Brown paused in his diatribe and fixed warm dark eyes on my face. His lips
quirked upwards as he feigned offence. “I don’t sell knock off shit!” he
squawked, his voice reaching girly heights at the end of the sentence. “It’s
all legit, bro’, I promise. It’s got an AA report and everything.”

In his
forties but still wearing his trousers so low I could see his shorts
underneath, he did a peculiar skippy dance that made me snort. “I suppose if it
was nicked, someone would notice it fairly fast.” I imagined myself driving it
and my heart gave a leap of pleasure. My old car was black and this would be
part of my new start. I felt like a sex maniac when I thought of Teina in a
near naked state and perhaps the car best fitted the sinful woman I’d become.
The vicar had his work cut out to bring me back on the straight and narrow.
“Let me see the AA certificate and have a test drive,” I said. “Then I’ll sort
out insurance.”

“It’s
all done, missus,” Hemi said, hoiking his trousers up as he increased gear to
cover the forecourt. “I just gotta give yous da keys.”

“How?” I
ran to catch up with him. “You need my driver history to insure me.”

“I had
it remember?” He winked at me and eyed me up and down with slow precision.
“From your last purchase with Hemi and Bros Vehicle Services.”

It all
sounded dodgy to me, but when he handed me the insurance cover note for my old
company with the stamp saying PAID over the invoice number, I had to believe
him. “So, no test drive then?” I asked as he handed me two sets of keys.

“Na,” he
said. “We’re closing now. Me and the boys is goin’ fishing. You’ll be right.”

He
explained the rudiments of the vehicle and waved me off as I slid into the
traffic like a cupcake in a feast of brownies. I stuck out in my expensive
cornflower blue BMW, but the feeling verged on exhilaration as I cruised home
in a quarter of the time it took on the bus. I’d always owned a parking space
in the underground garage and slid into it, just as the father from downstairs
crept around the corner in his beige station wagon. “Oh,” he called through his
passenger window as I emerged and activated the central locking. “I park.” His
broken English made me cock my head to aid understanding and the man pointed at
my space. He hovered in place as though expecting me to jump back in my SUV and
move it for him.

I
glanced at the wall where the big number 12 corresponding with my apartment
number, was spray painted in white at least half a metre high. “It’s my space,”
I said. “I’ve got a car again now so I’ll be using it.”

“What?
What?” he said, his face pale in the dim lighting of the garage. He stared at
me as though his current misfortunes were my fault.

“You
can’t park there,” I replied and sauntered past. His wheels screeched as he
took off at speed in a temper, rounding the pillars at the end fast enough to spin
the back tyres. He met me back on the small crossing in front of the lifts,
squealing to a halt as though having contemplated killing me for my space. My
euphoria melted from my heart and trickled into my feet and I hated him for
ruining my lovely afternoon and the shininess of my gift. His window was still
open and he glared at me through it. Anger bubbled to the surface and I crossed
to his driver’s window and heard my own voice emerge from between my lips,
strong and true. “You really don’t want to mess with me,” I said through
gritted teeth. I heard my father in the veiled threat and it surprised me, but
not enough to dispense with the power it offered. I put my hand on his
windowsill and watched him flinch. “I can see your brain working,” I said, my
voice cold. “You’ll try to beat me home tomorrow to get my space and assume
I’ll just call the apartment supervisor. He’ll do nothing and you’ll have
reclaimed something that wasn’t yours to begin with.” I leaned down, temper
heating up my eyes until it felt as though they blazed in my face. “I don’t
recommend you engaging in a game like that.” I held up my fingers and counted
his options off for him. “Rent another space, park outside or get rid of a
vehicle. And while we’re at it, I might like a donation towards the six months
of parking you’ve had because I forgot to cancel my rental agreement.” My eyes
glared and I watched him shrink at my vehemence. I felt angry enough to rip his
head from his shoulders and he knew it. “Don’t. Mess. With. Me.” I said, enunciating
each word before stepping away. I jerked my head to the right, wanting him to
move first, so I didn’t present him with the opportunity to accidentally slip
his clutch and mow me down. He sped off and up the ramp, waiting for the roll
gate to rise before speeding off onto the street.

My heart
pounded in my chest and my breath came in snatches. It occurred to me I didn’t
know who I was anymore. And I hadn’t forgotten to cancel the rental. The tiny
portion of my apartment fee covering the garage parking space had been my way
of holding onto the past. I could pretend I would one day fill the space with a
vehicle; that my life wasn’t entirely a failure. Today was the day.

“Hey,
Ula. How was your day?” Jack asked, rising from the couch and rubbing his eyes.
“You’re very late. I forgot to ask if you had a staff meeting.”

“Not
tonight.” I twirled the car keys in my pocket, clinking them and enjoying the
sound. “I picked up my new car.”

In the
process of opening the fridge, Jack whirled around with an excited look on his
face. “Truly?” He bit his lip and reminded me of the tousle haired boy who
delighted in anything new amongst the cousins. Jack always had to press and
poke and try things, pushing them to their limit while the new owner watched in
horror.

“No
way!” I answered the unasked question and jerked my head towards the cast on
his arm and he shrugged. “If it’s an automatic, I’ll be fine. I’m still driving
mine.”

“I bet
you’re not supposed to!” I scoffed. “Your insurance might have something to say
about it.”

“I
bought a cooked chicken and salad for dinner,” he said, running a hand along
his bristly jaw. “But I wanna see your car now.”

Pride
flared in my heart and then faded as I thought about how to explain its sudden
appearance. “It’s nothing special. I’ve finished paying Pete’s debts so treated
myself. I’m sick of the bus.”

“Pete
had debts?” Jack looked around and I saw the pennies drop into the slot in his
brain as he considered my reduced circumstances in a different light. “I didn’t
know. Why didn’t you ask for help?”

I
shrugged and busied myself with the kettle, pressing buttons to make it boil
and slapping a bag of green tea into a mug. “Nobody else’s business.”

Jack ran
his hand up my back and his fingers fondled the curls in my ponytail. “It’s my
business, Ula.”

“I don’t
think your wife would’ve felt the same way.” I turned and leaned my bum against
the pantry cupboard, detaching myself from Jack’s touch and the look of longing
in his eyes. He swallowed and I broke the moment, jangling the keys. “Do you
wanna see it?” A look of mischief in my face made him laugh.

“Hell
yeah!”