Stepping out of the Shadows, page 5
Sure enough she said sweetly, “I gave that up years ago.”
He looked across at the two interested spectators and asked, “Jo, is that coffee I can smell?”
“Oh—yes, of course it is!” Jo went into the kitchen.
Rafe left half an hour later, farewelling Marisa with an order. “Make sure you’ve got the all clear from the fire brigade before you go over to the cottage.”
“Yes, sir,” Marisa said, clearly too tired to think of anything else. In her borrowed dressing gown she didn’t look much older than its owner.
He regarded her with a lurking smile, a smile she returned. But before she turned away she said seriously, “Thanks, Rafe. You’re right, I’d have got him out, but—I’m glad you arrived when you did.”
Rafe almost managed to repress an image of her clad in pyjamas so closely fitting they revealed every curve of her delectable body and softly sheened skin. His heartrate had careered off the chart.
The memory brought his body to full attention, so much so that he knew it was time to leave. Laconically he said, “If you’re going to thank anyone, thank Jo and Sandy. I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.”
CHAPTER FOUR
MARISA’S decision to get up early and go over to the cottage by herself was stymied when she didn’t wake until almost nine in the morning.
Through the door, she could hear voices and laughter, and a glance at the sofa revealed nothing but an empty sleeping bag and Buster Bear. After an incredulous look at her watch she leapt off the inflatable mattress on the floor.
At the door she hesitated, then went back and put on Tracey’s dressing gown. For some reason she had to brace herself before opening the door.
But Rafe wasn’t in the big living area of the farmhouse. Relief and a strange loneliness hit her as she saw Jo and her daughter washing dishes.
Jo looked around and smiled. “Well, you look as though you’ve had a good night’s sleep! Keir’s out the front, playing with the boys. Tracey and I are just working out what clothes she can lend you until we get some of yours washed and ready to wear.”
“Do you mind if it’s jeans and T-shirts?” Tracey asked a little worriedly.
Marisa hesitated, then said with a wry smile, “Of course I don’t mind. I’m just finding it a bit odd being a refugee. If it’s all right with you, I’ll wear them over to the cottage to see what I can find in the garage that Keir and I can wear straight away.” A thought struck her. “What’s Keir got on now?”
“I fished out some of the twins’ old clothes and I put him in them. They’re a bit too big but he doesn’t seem to mind.” Jo said firmly, “And you’re not going over there until you’ve had some breakfast and a cup of tea or coffee, whichever you like.”
“Thank you,” Marisa said a little starkly. “You’ve been absolutely wonderful.”
But Jo brushed her thanks away. “Tracey will bring some clothes along to the room you slept in and you can see if they’re decent on you.”
They were a little tight, but they would do until she managed to wash some of her own—always providing, she thought wearily as she walked along the road to the cottage, she had any left. Jo had offered to go with her, but she’d refused. She needed to be alone.
But the sight of the cottage stopped her, and for a horrifying moment she had to fight an urge to turn and run, snatch Keir up and run away from it all …
She dragged in a slow, painful breath and blinked back tears. Although the flame-blackened walls still stood, the whole place stank of smoke. Her heart clamped painfully when she saw the charred sticks of what had been hibiscus bushes against the verandah balustrade, their wonderful silken blooms gone for ever.
Some members of the fire team were back, checking the place and damping down any hot spots. She gave her eyes a quick surreptitious dab as the fire chief came out to meet her.
He said, “I wish we could have done more for you. Don’t go anywhere near the house—it’s not entirely safe yet. The garage is OK, though. You might like to go and check on things.” He paused before saying a little diffidently, “We couldn’t save all your boy’s toys and only a few of his books.”
Regaining control, she said, “Thank you so much. Some is better than nothing.”
She’d find some tangible way to thank them, but right then she could only stand in the doorway of the garage, nostrils wrinkling at the stench of smoke, and fight for composure.
Someone had hauled out the drawers from the dressing table and dumped them and their contents on the floor, along with what looked like clothes from the wardrobes, Keir’s toy box and a handful of his books. A few pots and pans had made it, but nothing much else from the kitchen.
The pathetic remnants of her life made her swallow hard, but mourning could come later. Right now she needed to be strong.
After a deep breath she walked in, only to flinch when the first thing she saw was the photograph on the ground—the one she loathed yet couldn’t bring herself to throw away.
Unmarked by smoke and free from water damage, that pale wraith of a woman haunted her. Never again, she vowed silently, and snatched it up, only just stopping herself from furtively glancing over her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
Rafe’s voice—too close—brought her heart into her throat, blocking her breathing and setting her pulse rate soaring. Her fingers shook as she crumpled the betraying paper, the tiny sound it made echoing in her ears like a small, suspicious explosion.
Had he seen it—that betraying photograph?
In a thin voice she lied, “I’m fine, thank you.”
Don’t break down, she commanded, her composure cracking. Don’t even think of it. You’ve coped with worse than this—you can deal with anything …
Clearly he didn’t believe her, but he said only, “I brought some plastic sacks. Do you want me to help you?”
After a swift desperate struggle to subdue her rioting apprehension, she forced herself to turn, hoping her face didn’t show anything more than mild interest.
Rafe’s trademark vitality was as potent as ever and he examined her face in a searching survey that sent shivers the length of her spine.
All she could trust herself to say was a quiet, “That was thoughtful of you. Thank you.”
“It’s not the end of the world,” he said calmly and reached out his hand.
She stepped back, saw the infinitesimal narrowing of his eyes and said swiftly, harshly, “If you—anyone—touches me now I’ll start to cry.”
His mouth hardened. “Would that be so bad? It might be a good idea to release some emotion.”
“Later, perhaps,” she said bluntly, trying for a smile and failing badly. “There’s enough water around without me adding to it.”
Her breath huffed out in a long, silent sigh when he turned and walked out.
Like the lord of all creation, she thought ironically, watching the way the smoky sunlight kindled a lick of flame across his black head.
If he’d touched her she’d have crumbled, sagging into a humiliating heap of misery.
After another deep breath she hid the crushed photo in her handbag. She’d never be able to throw it away. It reminded her of how far she’d come and how strongly she refused to allow herself to revert.
So do something practical right now, she told herself, and after opening the big plastic sack, began to sort swiftly through the piles, grabbing the first clothes to hand. They stank of smoke and were damp, but a good wash would see them back in a wearable state.
Where could she go? At the most, she and Keir couldn’t stay more than a couple of nights with the Tanners—it would be a total imposition after their kindness to her. So, even though she couldn’t afford it, she’d have to book into a motel. Tewaka had several; at least one must have accommodation until she found somewhere more permanent.
Scarcely had the thought formed in her mind when she felt Rafe’s presence behind her again and stood up, turning to face him.
He said, “All right?”
Jerkily she nodded.
He waited a moment, before saying calmly, “Where do you plan to stay?”
“I don’t know yet,” she said flatly, hating him for bringing her unspoken fears out into the open. Head held high, she tried to read his expression and failed.
Calmly he said, “Then I suggest you and young Keir move into my house until you find somewhere else to live.”
Unable to believe he’d actually said what she’d heard, she stared at him, a swift rush of adrenalin surging through her.
One black brow climbed and his mouth quirked. “I’m pretty certain I haven’t suddenly developed horns. It makes sense. Manuwai has enough bedrooms to billet a small army. If you think Keir needs reassurance at night, you could share the nursery suite, which has two bedrooms.”
OK, so he didn’t mean … what she thought he might have meant. Hot-cheeked yet relieved, Marisa recovered enough composure to say a little stiffly, “It’s very kind of you, but I’m sure I can find somewhere—a motel, perhaps.”
Amusement vanishing, he elaborated, “It’s summer, this is a tourist area and the schools will be closing within weeks. Any chance of finding a motel unit—let alone a place to rent—is remote, possibly until the end of the holidays. Actually, you’re not likely to get anything until after February because that’s when people without schoolchildren take their holidays. I’m assuming you want a house within driving distance of Tewaka.”
Numbly she nodded. “Yes.”
Keir was very happy at school and she would not put him through the sort of upheaval she’d endured as a child. Nevertheless, the prospect of sharing a house with Rafe Peveril set every instinct jittering protectively.
Rafe went on, “Once summer is over you’ll have a much better chance of finding a place.”
His cool, reasonable tone grated her nerves. She blurted, “The end of summer is three months away.”
The sound of her voice, sharp and almost accusing, stopped any further words. She drew a rapid breath and struggled for composure.
It took a lot of energy to steady herself and say with more than a hint of formality, “I’m grateful for the offer, but Keir and I can’t possibly live in your house for that long.”
“I knew there’d be a but in there somewhere,” Rafe said ironically. “So what will you do? Camp in the back of the shop?” He finished with a biting undernote, “Hardly a suitable place for a child.”
Rallying, Marisa called on all her hard-won assurance to say briskly, “Please don’t be offended. And, no, the shop is no solution. As my car appears to be unreliable, I’ll see if I can find somewhere closer to town—preferably within walking distance—before I give you a definite answer.”
There, that sounded sensible and practical and—her thoughts skidded to a noisy hum as Rafe nodded, a micro-flash of emotion in his eyes intensifying her unease.
“I’m not offended,” he said coolly. “I’ll ask around myself. Just don’t be alarmed if nothing turns up.” He gave a narrow smile. “And while you’re looking around, the homestead is there. I’m heading overseas in a few days, so if me being there is a problem it needn’t be.”
The temptation to surrender to his calm assumption of authority was potent enough for her to pause before answering. Yet it fretted at something fragile and hard-won in her to accept Rafe’s hospitality.
However, if she and Keir could find no other place to go, she’d grit her teeth and accept it for Keir’s sake.
“I—No, of course it wouldn’t be a problem. Thank you,” she added lamely.
“Then I suggest you think seriously about it. Jo and Sandy will offer you beds, but it’s not particularly convenient for them, or for you.”
“No,” she said swiftly. “I wouldn’t dream of it …” Her voice trailed away as she desperately tried for some solution, only to realise she had no other options. That hard knot in her chest expanded, and she surrendered. “Then—all right, I’ll accept your very kind offer for a few days while I try to find a more permanent place.”
Any place!
He didn’t look pleased, merely nodded. “Fine. Thanks bore me, so let’s have no more of them.”
The urgent summons of her cell phone stopped him. She grabbed it and heard Tracey Tanner’s agitated voice, and a background sound she recognised immediately. Keir—heartbroken.
“Can you come, please?” Tracey implored. “I’ve made him cry and he needs to see you’re all right.”
Marisa said, “We’ll be there in a few moments”, and switched off. Heading for Rafe’s car, she told him over her shoulder what the girl had said.
At the Tanners’ house a sobbing Keir ran into Marisa’s arms and clung, while she looked her questions above his head.
Mrs Tanner frowned at her daughter. “I’m afraid he overheard Tracey talking to a friend about the fire and got it into his head that it was happening still, with you in danger.”
Flushing, Tracey chimed in guiltily, “I’m really sorry—I should have checked to make sure he wasn’t listening.”
“Keir, it’s all right. Stop crying now—Mummy’s fine,” Marisa soothed, aware of Rafe’s hard face.
But his voice was cool, almost detached. “He’ll get over it. Marisa is Keir’s home base; now he knows she’s safe he’ll be fine. Won’t you, Keir?”
Muffling his sobs in Marisa’s breast, Keir nodded, but although he was manfully trying to control them, great half-choked sobs still shook his body.
Rafe went on, “And most of his toys are all right.”
Acutely aware of an undercurrent of curiosity from the two Tanners, Marisa said briskly, “Keir, Mr Peveril helped me collect your clothes and your toys. What do you say to him?”
After a hiccup or two Keir emerged from her embrace to say, “Thank you. And my bulldozer?”
“Yes.” Before he could run through a catalogue of his toys, she prompted, “And what do you say to Mr and Mrs Tanner and Tracy and the boys?”
Keir made his thanks, adding a codicil, “And thank you for the yummy chocolate, Tracey.”
“Any time,” Tracey said and ruffled his hair before exchanging a high five that dried the last of his tears and left him smiling. “See you later, alligator.”
As they turned to go, Mrs Tanner asked in a worried voice, “Marisa, what are your plans? Is there anything I can do for you?”
Before Marisa had time to answer Rafe said smoothly, “She and Keir are free to stay at Manuwai until she finds somewhere else to live.”
At Mrs Tanner’s surprised look, Marisa inserted herself into the conversation. “Rafe has been very kind in offering us temporary refuge, but if you know of anyone who has a unit or a small place to rent, I’d be so grateful if you’d tell me.”
“I’ll ask around,” Mrs Tanner said. She exchanged glances with Rafe and grimaced. “I’m afraid it won’t be easy.”
“Rafe’s already warned me of that.”
But the more people she had looking out for a place to rent, the more likely she was to find one. Tomorrow—no, as soon as they got to Manuwai—she’d call every estate agent in town to see if anything was available.
Once in the car Rafe glanced at Keir and said, “Straight home?”
Marisa nodded. “You took the words from my mouth. He’s over-tired and overwrought. I’ll do something about the rest of my stuff tomorrow.”
Rafe nodded and started the engine and Marisa tried to relax, deliberately tightening and loosening muscles. It didn’t seem to work. Every sense was alert and quivering, as though she felt an unknown danger.
In his car seat in the back, Keir was silent, but after several silent minutes he’d recovered enough to sing a song he’d learned at school, something about a car, only to stop halfway through with a cry that made her twist sharply.
“Look, Mummy! Camels!”
The car slowed and Marisa shook her head. “Not camels, although they’re related. These are alpacas.”
“Alpacas.” He said the word with pleasure, then asked, “What does related mean?”
“Part of the same family,” she said easily, aware of Rafe listening. “You’re related to me.”
“Like Nana and Poppa?”
“Yes.”
“And like uncles and aunties like Tracey’s Auntie Rose?”
“Just like that. Camels are cousins to alpacas.”
While Keir digested this Rafe said, “They come from South America and they’re bred for their wool.”
From the back her son demanded, “Why don’t I have any uncles or aunties or cousins, Mummy?”
Marisa said steadily, “Sometimes that happens in families, darling. The alpacas have wool that people use to make jerseys. I might go and see the people who own them to see if they make anything from them that we could sell in the shop.”
As she’d hoped, that gave Keir something else to think about.
“Can I come too and pat the alpacas?” he asked.
“You can come, but they might not be tame enough to pat. Mr Peveril might know more about that than I do.”
Rafe said, “I’m afraid I don’t, but I can find out.”
“No need,” Marisa was quick to answer. “I’ll do it.”
Fortunately her words satisfied Keir and he settled back, humming to himself as he gazed out of the windows. Once more trying to relax, Marisa too looked out of the side window, her gaze skimming the hills and deep valleys of this part of Northland. On the very edge of her vision she could just discern a plume of smoke and had to swallow again.
Rafe asked, “Did you live in a city before you came here?”
Woodenly she answered, “Yes.” Having to settle in one place had been a blow to her parents, but they’d needed to be close to the services available for her mother.
And she was being foolish to worry about the direction the conversation was taking. Rafe was merely making small talk, something to fill in the silence.
“In Auckland?”
“In the South Island,” she said without elaboration. Right down in Invercargill, New Zealand’s southernmost city, and about as far away from Auckland as you could get. Coolly she said, “I believe your property’s on the coast.”
