Riverboat Point (15 page)

He put a hand on her shoulder and gave her a gentle shake.

“Savannah, you should go to bed.”

Her head lurched up and she looked at him through one bleary eye.

“Ow!” She rubbed her neck. “Ethan?”

He put a hand under her elbow. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” She frowned at him and pushed herself up from the table.

He put an arm around her waist to steady her. “You're going to bed.”

She tensed and tried to push him away.

“It's okay,” he said.

“Oh,” she wailed. “No it's not.” She pulled out of his hold and made a dash for the toilet.

He went to the doorway and looked out at the moonlight on the river while Savannah emptied the contents of her stomach. Finally the sound of her vomiting ceased, the toilet flushed and water ran in the bathroom.

“Ethan?”

He turned at her feeble bleat.

“Oh no,” she said. “You are here. I hoped I'd imagined you.”

“Just dropped your keys back.” He pointed to the table.

“Thanks.”

Her face was ashen under her blonde hair. There was a vulnerability about her that he'd noticed when she'd come asking for his help with the hot water. He'd only seen a brief glimpse then, now she looked totally exposed. She swayed.

He took a step towards her. “Will you be all right?”

“Yes.” She groaned. “I'm never drinking champagne again.”

He grinned. “You should go to bed. Do you need help?”

“No … thanks … I can manage.”

“Goodnight.”

He let himself out the door and made his way back to the side fence where he'd climbed over. He and Jaxon talked about putting in a gate between their yards. Perhaps when he came back.

Jasper barked at him from the top of the stairs.

“Looks like it's still just you and me, mate,” Ethan said.

He pressed play on the dock and dished up a serve of curry. He sat at his table with his back to the room and took a mouthful. His image was reflected back at him in the glass from the window as he ate. Beyond was blackness. A strange feeling swept over him. It surprised him to realise it was loneliness. He missed Jaxon being next door. They'd caught up at least once a week.

The other realisation was his need for female company. Over and over in his mind he could see Belinda and Savannah laughing together, smell Belinda's perfume, feel the warmth of Savannah's body as he'd tried to help her up. It was all very well to say no more one-night stands but he wasn't a monk.

He pushed away the remains of his meal and strode to the fridge. Jasper lifted his head. Ethan bent to ruffle his fur then crossed to the window to look out at the river glittering in the moonlight. Still he couldn't clear his head of Belinda's face so close to his nor the sparkle of Savannah's smile or the shape of her body as she'd lain spread-eagled on the ground.

“Damn, damn, damn!”

Ethan strode back to the bench and turned the music up. Metallica blasted from the speakers. He took the top from his beer. He was restless again tonight but for a totally different reason.

Savannah stumbled to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. It was her third attempt to get up and start the day. Trouble was it was nearly two o'clock. At this rate she might as well stay in bed and start again tomorrow.

She'd woken twice in the night and brought up anything that remained inside her. The last time it had caused her such pain she'd stayed on the toilet floor in a miserable state until she'd been strong enough to crawl back to bed.

Around nine o'clock she'd tried to get up but her head hurt so much she'd lowered it to the pillow and pulled the covers over her. She'd tried again at eleven with no success but at least the water she kept sipping had stayed down. Now she still felt terrible. Her body ached – her insides from the throwing up and her arms and legs from lying on the cold floor. At least the pain in her head had eased to a dull ache and she felt like food.

She took some bread from the pantry to make toast while she brewed a pot of tea. Once it was ready she took it to the dining table and sat down. Her tablets and glass were still there from last night and perched beside them were the car keys.

“Oh no,” she groaned and put her head in her hands.

Ethan's concerned face reappeared in her scrambled brain. He had been there to see her lack of ability to manage her alcohol. She searched her memory for recollections of the previous night when he'd returned from dropping Belinda home. How bad had she been? She remembered him helping her to her feet and then …

“Oh no,” she groaned again. He'd been there when she'd thrown up. What else had she done? What must he think?

She took a small bite of toast. Then again what did she care? He obviously drank heavily sometimes. She recalled the morning he'd smelled like a stale brewery. But that only meant he'd had a big night. He could probably hold his drink, unlike her.

Savannah pressed her hands to her cheeks. Her jaw rested on her thumbs. She stared into her cup of tea. She was not a big drinker. Never had much opportunity in her teens, then came her fitness work and then the accident. There'd been too many pills in those years. She did like a beer from time to time and the odd glass of wine or sparkling.

She flopped her hands and head to the table. She'd enjoyed Belinda's company but just the thought of bubbles made her stomach churn. Thankfully she hadn't made a fool of herself in front of her new acquaintance. Only Ethan had witnessed her disastrous state.

She sat up again and ate more of her toast. No point wallowing in self-pity. It got you nowhere. She'd learned that the hard way. On the bright side it had been a bit of fun trying to show Belinda some exercises. Savannah wasn't sure if Belinda really wasn't much good at exercise routines or if she'd deliberately foiled Savannah's attempts to help her.

Whatever the reason, it had been worth the surprise on Ethan's face when he'd found them sprawled on the verandah. Not that she'd spent too long looking at his face. She had to admit she liked well-toned male bodies, even if she only checked them out from afar. And last night Ethan was the perfect advertisement, his buff body encased in snug-fitting clothes and his hair still damp.

Her stomach did a small flip and this time it wasn't because of her alcohol binge.

“Damn it, girl,” she muttered to herself. “He's out of bounds.”

Anyway, after last night he'd probably think her a fool. She drank the rest of her tea and carried her dishes to the sink. Time to do some work. It would clear her head of the alcohol haze and any thoughts of Ethan.

She went to the cupboard under the carport where she'd discovered Jaxon stored all kinds of cleaning equipment for the houseboats. It was stocked with every kind of cleaning product and explained why there'd been so little in the house. No need to have two supplies. She took as much as she could carry and set off down the path to the river. The sundecks of each of the three remaining boats needed a going over. That would keep her busy for some time.

The late afternoon sun was warm and the sky was filling with heavy grey clouds that trapped the balmy air.
River Magic
was the last of the three boats and by the time she stepped on board Savannah had worked up a sweat.

She climbed the steps to the sundeck with less enthusiasm than when she'd started. As she ascended to a point above the floor level of the deck she paused. Each of the boats had an outdoor table of some description and at least eight chairs.
River Magic
was no different, except in its case the heavy chairs were stackable and the last time she'd been up here they were in two stacks at the side of the deck. Now one of them was standing alone in the front right corner.

Savannah took the last few steps, put down her cleaning equipment and gazed around. Nothing else was different. There were no other items of furniture on this boat to be out of place. The deck was dusty and littered with leaves like the other two had been. Apart from the chair, all looked as it should.

She crossed the deck and stood near the chair. The back of it was slightly lower than the protective glass that ran across the front of the deck. She looked up and goosebumps prickled between her shoulder blades in spite of the warm afternoon. From here she could see to the glassed front of Jaxon's shack and nearly the full length of the verandah including the nook with the outdoor furniture.

She lowered herself to the chair. Anyone sitting here would be hard to see behind the darkened glass. She looked ahead. And they would have a clear view of Jaxon's shack. Goosebumps prickled down her back again. Who would have sat here? Who would have access?

She looked around. The closest house was Ethan's. The tall trees along their shared fence line only allowed glimpses of it. Obviously whoever had sat in this chair was watching Jaxon's place not Ethan's. And the only person she could think of was Ethan.

A gust of wind swirled along the river. It ruffled the water and stirred the branches of the trees. A shudder coursed right through Savannah this time. She stood up and carried the chair to the stack. She wasn't mistaken. The last time she'd been on this deck all the chairs had been stacked.

The wind grew stronger. The boat creaked beneath her. Birds swung across the water and circled the trees. A leaf blew in and dropped at her feet beside two others. She blinked as an eddy of air carried more leaves and dust this time. Anger surged through her and she let fly with some choice words. Her afternoon's work was about to be undone.

She snatched up the broom and dusters. At the top of the steps she turned for one last look towards the shack. Why would Ethan sit up here and watch? Perhaps he was some kind of pervert. She didn't like the thought of it but he could be moody and aloof. The friendliness might be just an act to woo her into a false sense of security. Whatever his reason, she couldn't think of anything that was reassuring.

She let herself off the boat, slid its gangplank into place and made her way up the path. By the time she reached the carport the sky was covered with grey clouds and she was battling the wind. She stowed the cleaning equipment in the cupboard, certain now she had wasted her time. Dirt and debris swirled through the air.

There was a crash and a clink from the front verandah. She hurried around to find the two empty wine bottles had fallen. The sound of Jaxon's landline phone startled her. It was the first call she'd had for days. She stepped inside, slid the glass firmly shut behind her and snatched up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Is that J&S Houseboats?” The female voice was young.

“Yes, I'm sorry I should have said.” Savannah still didn't have her head around this business.

“My name is Tara. My friend is getting married and we'd like to celebrate with a girls' weekend.”

Savannah hesitated. That was code for a hens' weekend. Did Jaxon allow that kind of booking?

“We'd like to hire a houseboat,” Tara continued.

Savannah flipped opened the black diary. Jaxon had left everything up to her and a booking was a booking.

“What date were you looking at?”

This time it was Tara who paused.

“And how many nights?” Savannah added.

“We were hoping for two.”

Savannah checked Jaxon's list of rates. “Three is the minimum,” she said.

There was another pause. “Do you have anything for next weekend?” Tara asked.

Savannah stopped flipping the diary pages forward.

“I know it's short notice,” Tara babbled. “We've tried a few places with no luck. We're just desperate to organise something special for our friend. She wasn't going to do anything. She's recovering from major surgery. We never thought she'd make it to the wedding but she's recovering well. We think she needs some pampering before her big day.”

Savannah knew what it was like to go through gruelling times. She turned the diary to the dates Tara wanted, just over a week away. There were two boats available although one of them was out until the Friday, which would leave her little time to get it ready. She hadn't experienced it yet but she was beginning to understand there was a lot to do when a boat came back.
Our Destiny
was the only option but it was the smallest of the boats. It could only sleep six,
Tawarri
eight and the other two were ten-berth boats.

“How many people?”

“Six of us.”

“I'm assuming you want Friday to Sunday?” she said.

“Yes.” Tara gave a tiny squeak. “Do you have a boat available?”

Once more Savannah hesitated. So long as Tara and her friends paid, what difference did it make what their reason for hiring was?

“Two of you would have to share a sofa bed.”

“That'd be fine.” Tara's excited voice squealed in Savannah's ear. “So you can book us in?”

“Yes, if you pay the deposit today.”

“Credit card ready,” Tara said.

Savannah went through the details with her. By the time they'd finished she was full of admiration for what Tara and her friends were doing for their friend, the bride. Savannah couldn't help remembering her own long painful recovery and wondering if it might have been speeded up or at least made more bearable if she'd had that kind of support. Still, it was no use speculating about what could have been. She'd pushed her friends away instead of accepting their help.

“There's just one more thing.”

Tara's voice snapped her out of her self-pity.

“None of us can drive a houseboat. Is it okay if we just stay moored at the bank?”

Savannah had no idea. She quickly thought back through all the notes Jaxon had left her. There was nothing she could recall about having to leave the bank.

“Of course,” she said.

When she hung up she became aware of the sound of the wind again. It was buffeting the shack and there was an occasional clatter on the tin roof as leaves and debris were flung about.