Ember Flowers

April Worth

Copyright 2013 April
Worth

Smashwords
Edition

Cover art by April
Worth
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any
resemblance to real persons, 
living or dead, is purely
coincidental.

Please respect the
rights of the author and do not file share.

Love takes many forms.
May Australian laws one day change so that everyone can celebrate
the same joy.

Written for the one who
inspires me every day, who warms my heart. Who’ll be there, be it
blue skies or rainy nights.

You’ll always be the
most beautiful woman in the room.

Chapter 1

Chapped lips
from working outside spoke into the hands-free unit. The rhythmic
hum of the idling engine as she waited at the lights. The old
utility was due for retirement, she just found it hard to let go
of. Like a well worn pair of jeans that fit. She had a lot of
those. Her shovels and spades rattled in the back. At least they
were new.

A quick glance
in the rear view mirror. The clouds fluffy and buoyant on the
horizon at the day’s end.

A grin that
made her look rakishly younger crossing her face. Her skin the
colour of coffee with cream and sugar.

“Yeah Scott I
know, listen don’t worry about it, the guy’s a dick head. I don’t
care how much he flashes his cash around.” It wasn’t how she really
felt, but Scott was a good guy, he’d been her apprentice, and
eventually a keen business partner.

“C’mon Jean,
that’s crap and you know it.”

The client has
been demanding, excessively so. Some things can’t be done
overnight. A beautiful modern courtyard garden with imported
orchids and paper daisies was one such thing. Scott had racked his
brain looking for a supplier. He’d come up empty with the time
constraints, saying the earliest they could sign off was next
week.

The client
hadn’t been happy, and her wallet had suffered. A half started job
and expenses that might have to be written off. Labour, suppliers,
her time spent sketching up a stunning jigsaw of colour, light and
form.

The freeway had
lost the frenzied pace of peak hour, at almost seven p.m. It was
just her and a trickle of cars behind her. The lights went green,
and she lifted her foot off the clutch, easing into a cruising pace
with the other traffic.

A sigh from his
stubbled face. “So what do you want me to do?”

The sandy
haired man always with a crisply ironed shirt. At least he was
presentable now. She smiled to herself as she remembered his first
day on the job.
Wasn’t afraid to get dirt under his nails.
Worked hard.
That’s why she kept him around, the finer details,
like not wearing flip flops on a work site had to be learnt.

“Wait till you
hear from him, I’ll give him a call if you don’t."


“K’ Jean.
Thanks for not busting my balls.”

She glanced
into the rear view again. Another set of lights. A white sedan
pulled up behind her as she slowed for the red. The driver wore
sunglasses. A woman in her late twenties, angular jawline, slender
straight nose. A mouth pulled into an annoyed scowl.

“It’s OK Scott,
go home to your wife, jump in the pool with your kid.”

“Will do.
Coffee tomorrow?”

“Seven a.m. Be
there or be square.”

“Wow Jean, did
those hip young teenagers at the mall teach you that one?”

“Blow me
Scottie. See you tomorrow.”

A chuckle on
the line as the call hung up with a click and soft beeps.

She sighed,
running her hand through her choppy chocolate hair. Pixie cut and
feathered soft. Wisps of grey just starting to show through, losing
a ten grand project overnight didn’t help. Scottie was trying, not
much he could’ve done. Dark expressive eyes looked back at her in
the mirror.

The light went
green.

Her entire body
jolted forward. The mint scented pine tree whapped against the
windscreen. Work boot firmly planted on the brake. A crunch as her
rear indicator tinkled to the ground. She turned in her seat,
looking at the driver behind her.

“Great. Perfect
end to a perfect day. Learn to fuckin’ drive.”

A creaking
thump as a door closed, she got out to inspect the damage. Her
soles crunching on gravel, her tan cargos creasing as she walked
toward the other car. The driver hadn’t gotten out, and was sitting
bolt upright clutching the wheel.

Jogging quickly
over to the window, rapping her knuckles on the glass. “Hey you
OK?”

The woman’s
head snapped to her direction, as though she’d just realised what
had happened, Jean’s truck had obviously just materialised in her
path. There were no other cars in sight.

A shake of pale
strands pulled into a tight tail, bangs tapered at the front. The
lips were still pressed hard. Anxious. She asked again, this time
motioning for the driver to roll down her window. The younger woman
complied, a fingertip touching a button to make the glass slide
down in an even recession.

“You OK?”

A nod.

“You wanna get
out and look at this? Think you copped the worst of it.”

The young woman
moved stiffly, unclipping her belt and pulling herself out. Leaving
the door open and the belt sliding back of it’s own accord. An
occasional car whined past ever so often. The trees sighed softly,
parting the road between hills and suburbia. Rows of terracotta
rooves dotted the valley below, a subtle tangy scent of eucalyptus
blossom.

Jean took a
step back and went over to her car. Hands on belted hips as the
younger woman joined her. The gardener watched her. Taller than
Jean and statuesque, probably athletic but walked with a slight
hunch. Maybe she was tired, maybe it was self confidence. Either
way she didn’t look pleased.

“Yours hardly
has a scratch?” A breath parting her lips in surprise.

The older woman
crossed her arms over her chest. Light olive skin kissed by the
sun. “Make ‘em to last. Besides, you hit metal tray, worst that
could happen was a busted tail light, see exhibit A.” Pointing at
the mangled plastic in orange and red with an annoyed frown of her
own.

“I see, well,
sorry about that. I’m am insured.”

“Damn well hope
so.” A grit of her teeth. Her fire was beginning to recede, she
expected some sort of rebuttal, even though the blonde woman was
swiftly in the wrong. She just seemed like the type. The other
driver gave her a pointed look, taking off her sunglasses and
resting them on top of her head.

Suddenly she
seemed all business. The rosy lip glossed mouth spoke more
coherently. Smooth creamy skin and a dotting of freckles over high
cheekbones. Jean’s eyes flickered over her.
She probably coaches
netball on weekends and belongs to a cycle club. A 
chardonnay
sipper.

“Do you have
your details?, I’ll give you mine then I’ll get out of your hair?”
Brisk and to the point.

A few steps
around to the driver’s side door, a creaking clank. Pulled open to
grab her wallet. The other woman was scribbling her details onto a
card of her own. Leaning against the damaged bonnet of her car.
Slender arms moved briskly. The sunglasses came back down over the
younger woman’s grey eyes. She seemed impatient to leave.

Jean blinked
for an instant, the grey, it was an interesting shade.

An arm
extended, holding out the white and blue card. Jean took it from
her fingertips and watched the young woman as she lingered a second
in front of her crumpled bonnet, before stepping back into the
driver’s seat.

The white sedan
pulled away. All shiny and new besides the crushed in bonnet and
bumper. The driver gave her one last look in the rear view as she
drove away.

A curved
eyebrow raised in surprise as she read the card.

“Senior
Constable Joanne Myers.”

Chapter 2

The start of
her shift. Another missed call flashing angrily on her phone. She
ignored it, shoving the device back into her pocket with a
sigh.

The blonde
tapped the pen rapidly against the notepad. A staccato rhythm of
frustration. A heated fight, a car accident, followed by guilt
trips and a restless night. To make it worse, she had to wait
through endless options from a droning call waiting service.

“Yes I’ll
hold..”

She looked down
at the card. The woman had been understanding at least. Usually it
was her being the calm assertive one. Resolving disputes, attending
accidents, and being the voice of reason were every day occurrences
in her line of work. She’d been doing it since she was twenty two,
and hadn’t looked back.
It hadn’t always felt like living in a
fog.

She spoke to
the operator, outlining the problem.

“Sure..her name
is Jean Patterson..” Another sigh. “Yes, I’ll hold.”

The older woman
looked like she had a hint of South American in her, judging by the
dash of olive in the tanned skin, the dark eyes and soft lashes.
She’d become good at guessing nationalities. All part of the
job.

Probably a
dyke.
The short cropped hair and minimal touches of makeup were
a fine indication. She smirked. Joanne wasn’t judgmental, she just
couldn’t afford to wear her opinions on her sleeve. It just wasn’t
what stoked her fire. Her estranged husband certainly did that,
despite her better judgement.

A lingering
attraction that was used to full advantage. They weren’t right for
each other, It was hard to escape. Hanging on to good times made
her forget the bad.

He’d been
calling all morning. She hadn’t picked up.

The fight
they’d had was re treading all the familiar ground, but his words
had been particularly venomous. It had upset her, but she wouldn’t
give him the satisfaction of knowing so. Instead she’d rear ended a
perfectly stationary vehicle on her way home the evening prior.

A solid, neatly
quaffed body walked in past her desk and waved. “Morning Jo.” He
could see she was on the phone, the handset hung loosely from her
ear. He made a flicking motion with his hand in front of his mouth,
she gave him a thumbs up. Black tea one sugar. Too much of a health
nut for milk. Not the real kind, anyway.

She was tall
and lean, a 5”9 package of flax blonde, athletic and angular.
Somehow through all the weapon drills and walking the beat she’d
kept her femininity. A dusting of shadow subtle on the lids, a
penchant for high street fashion when out of her uniform.

Finally she’d
gotten the details squared away, she put down the handset with a
roll of her eyes. Her tea arrived just in time. She tugged at her
shoulder, evening up the dark blue tab with its blazing white
chevrons. Promoted to Sergeant last week.

“Here ya
go..Sarge.”

It made her
huff and shake her head, he enjoyed nicknames. At least he wasn’t
calling her ‘Claudia’ anymore. The Schiffer family would no doubt
be relieved.

“How was your
day off Myers?” He sat across from her and sucked down his coffee.
A solid part Scotsman through and through, his hybrid accent
sometimes tinged with the burr.

She shrugged
her shoulders, non-committal. “Fine Roy, usual stuff.”

The station
wasn’t as large as the depot in the city, but it wasn’t a quaint
little posting either. In the middle of suburbia, no one would
guess that there was a drug den two streets down. Teenagers did
burn outs in the lot outside in the evening when the building was
unmanned. Presently, a handful of Officers were either clocking on
or heading out, today she was doing the morning shift.

A call on her
radio, the dull crackle getting her attention. Her thumb flicked
the toggle as she answered.

“Myers.”

***

She found
herself at the wheel again, her squad car rolled to an easy halt
after cutting through morning traffic with the sirens on. Commuters
got out of her way when the V8 engine kicked in and the red and
blue lights commanded attention.

Doors slapping
shut, she left her cap in the glove compartment. Adjusted her
utility belt in a practised gesture. She and Roy walked toward the
scene, a hand making a visor over her eyes as she looked up.
Several stories high, glossy grey walls and lots of glass. Her
tight high ponytail fluttering, brushing over her shoulders with
the breeze.

“Roy? See if
you can find the hotel manager, I’m going to take a quick look
around.”


“OK, meet you
in the foyer in five.”

A quick chat
with the middle aged woman with the gold nametag and concerned
look. They’d established that the man clinging to the railing above
was formerly employed here, and had already been drinking. He
wasn’t coming down any time soon. They’d been called quickly,
tasked with talking him down, keeping him calm, while the fire
department arrived.