Six Naughty Nights

by Serenity Woods

  She’d been cruel. But so had he.

  He lifted his arm and stared out at the rain. Yes, Charlie was his son, but he’d always be Charlie’s father. The question wasn’t really did he want them in his life.

  The question was: Could he live without Esther?

  And he realised he’d always known the answer to that.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  “You’re snoring,” Charlie said, shaking his mother’s arm. “Wake up.”

  Esther opened her eyes and sighed. She’d been having a lovely dream. She’d been lying on a desert island somewhere in the Pacific, the ocean lapping at the sand while seagulls cried overhead. The sun had warmed her skin, and she’d even been able to taste the salt in the air.

  Toby had been leaning over her, trailing a finger along her arm. She could still see his smile, and the way the sun had highlighted the coppery tones in his hair. If she closed her eyes, she could even feel his gentle touch…

  She opened her eyes again. Charlie was drawing on her arm with a ballpoint pen.

  “Charlie!” She sat up, exasperated. Uneven blue lines covered the slowly fading tan.

  Her son stuck out his bottom lip. “You were snoring,” he repeated. “I wanted you to wake up.”

  “You could have just said, ‘Wake up, Mummy’.” She sighed and picked him up, taking the pen out of his hand. “Come on, let’s get something to eat, shall we?” Food invariably distracted him.

  He’d needed a lot of distracting lately.

  She took him into the kitchen, sat him on the work surface and opened the pantry.

  She brought out a box. “Want some cereal?”

  “Plizz.”

  She gave him the box while she retrieved a bowl and the carton of the milk from the fridge. When she turned back to him, he was examining the photograph on the back of the box. “Dan Carter!” he said triumphantly.

  “Yes, it is,” she said, a lump in her throat.

  “Daddy’s superhero,” Charlie said.

  “Yes.” She bent forward and kissed his head, her lips lingering on his curls.

  When they’d first left, Charlie had surprised her by not mentioning Toby at all. He’d not spoken about him on the plane back to Christchurch, nor at all during the first few days in their old city. That had made her both sad and thankful. He’d obviously picked up on her distress and knew better than to question when they were going to see Toby again.

  Since then, he’d mentioned him a couple of times in passing, but she hadn’t had any of the expected “Where’s Daddy?” questions she’d expected to have to field.

  Now, however, he studied her thoughtfully. “Daddy smelled nice,” he said unexpectedly.

  Her lips curved. “Yes, he did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he used nice aftershave.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s like perfume a man puts on after he shaves his face.”

  “Daddy shaves his face?”

  “Yes,” she said, thinking about the way his bristles had given her a rash all over her breasts.

  “Why?”

  “Because men have hair on their face.”

  Charlie crunched a piece of cereal as he thought about that fascinating fact. “Will Charlie have hair on his face when he growed up?”

  She heaved a sigh. It had been nice for a few days for Charlie to be able to ask Toby these sorts of questions. She’d thought she could be everything to her baby boy, but she was beginning to realise he needed more than just answers to his questions. He needed a role model—he needed to see with his own eyes the way other men behaved and acted.

  He needed his father.

  Too bad she’d ruined that for him.

  She opened her mouth to say something, but at that moment there was a knock at the door. She lifted Charlie down, and they walked over together to answer it.

  A courier delivery person stood there, a huge box at his feet. “Ms. Tyler?” he asked hopefully.

  “Yes.” She stared at the box. “What’s this? I haven’t ordered anything.”

  He checked his notes. “It’s definitely for you. From the Bay of Islands?”

  She felt as if he’d punched her in the ribs. “Oh. Yes. Thank you.” He held out the form and she signed it, then stood back so he could lift the box into her apartment.

  “What is it?” Charlie asked.

  She closed the door and dragged the box into the living room. It was heavy. “I’ve no idea, sweetie.” She grabbed a pair of scissors and ran the blade across the tape. The box was full of polystyrene pieces, and the package in the middle was wrapped securely in bubble wrap.

  She lay the box on its side and drew the package out carefully, not caring that the floor was soon covered in polystyrene beans that had Charlie squealing with joy as he threw them up in the air like snowflakes.

  Even before she’d begun to strip the bubble wrap off, she could see the item inside.

  It was a rocking horse.

  She turned the horse over onto the rocker and lifted off the remainder of the packaging. Charlie froze in the middle of the white beans and stared at it. “What’s that?”

  Esther covered her mouth with her hand. The horse was beautiful. Immediately she knew Toby had made it. Carved from native kauri wood, it wasn’t constructed like the cheap horses she’d seen in the department stores, which had flat pieces of wood cut into shapes and slotted together, with manes of sheepskin. This had been hand-carved in the likeness of a real horse, the head and mane engraved into the wood, varnished so it gleamed.

  “What is it, Mummy?” Charlie came over and touched the horse as if it were made of glass.

  Tears ran down her face. “It’s for you. Daddy made it for you.”

  He blinked. “For me?” His face lit up. “From Daddy?”

  She bent and picked him up, placing him on the sculpted saddle, and put the leather reins in his hands. “You can ride it,” she said, showing him how it rocked. “Like a real horse.”

  He clung hold of the mane, steadying himself as he got used to the movement, and then began to swing his legs backward and forward as he grew more confident.

  She stood up, only then seeing the envelope on the floor amongst all the white pieces. Heart pounding, she picked it up and opened it.

  It contained a single piece of white paper with a simple message written in Toby’s loopy, untidy handwriting.

  To Charlie—this is for you. I hope you like it, my lovely, lovely boy

  To Esther—sweetheart. I’m sorry.

  He’d underlined the word “sorry” three times.

  The paper crumpled in her hand.

  She sat on the sofa and burst into tears.

  Toby took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

  It was dark—the only flight he could get had landed at seven thirty, and by the time his taxi had wound its way from the airport to the city centre, the sun had set and the lights had come on in the parts of the city that hadn’t been destroyed.

  He waited nervously. It had been a huge leap of faith to come all the way to Christchurch. He hadn’t spoken to Esther since he’d had the rocking horse delivered. He’d thought about taking the box on the plane and delivering it himself, but he wanted her to have a day to think about the short message he’d written before he turned up on her doorstep.

  Now, though, he began to worry she’d turn him away. He didn’t expect her to fall into his arms, nor even to ask him to stay, but he crossed his fingers and hoped she didn’t just shut the door in his face. He hadn’t meant to be presumptuous, just impulsive.

  The door opened.

  Esther stared at him. She wore a pair of silky pink pyjamas and her ruffled hair framed her pale face. Her mouth formed a perfect O as he waited, wondering what she was going to say.

  Before any words could form, however, a tiny person pushed from behind her legs and looked up at him in delight. “Daddy!”

  “Charlie boy.” He bent as his son rushed out, and picked the
boy up. Charlie flung his arms around his neck and gave him a death grip, and he laughed and made choking sounds. “You’re strangling me!”

  “I missed you.” Charlie buried his face in his father’s neck.

  “I missed you too.” He looked at Esther over the top of his son’s head, hoping that this wasn’t coming across as emotional blackmail. He certainly hadn’t planned it.

  Esther’s eyes shone, but she didn’t look angry. She stepped back, indicating for him to come in. “We’ve both missed you,” she said huskily.

  He walked past her into the living room and smiled as he saw the rocking horse in the centre, in prime position.

  “Look Daddy!” Charlie wriggled to get down and rushed over to it. “I can climb on it myself.” He stuck a tiny foot in the stirrup and pulled himself up, scrabbled a bit, then hung, complaining, over the seat.

  Esther giggled. “He’s been doing that all day.” She walked over and lifted him on. “Nearly there, honey.”

  Charlie hooted and rocked the horse, kicking his heels. A lump formed in Toby’s throat to see his son enjoying his handiwork.

  “Gently,” Esther scolded. “Remember, this took Daddy ages to make.”

  “It’s okay,” Toby said, unable to stop himself beaming. “I don’t care what he does with it. They’re not meant to be kept pristine. I’d rather it was well-used, even if it means it gets bumped and scratched.”

  They stood together and watched Charlie sink slowly onto the horse’s mane, his thumb in his mouth as he became distracted by the TV.

  “He fell asleep on there this afternoon,” Esther said. “I’ve hardly been able to get him off it.” She smiled and walked toward the kitchen. “Want a drink?”

  “Sure.”

  “I don’t have any beer. White wine okay?”

  He sighed. “That would be great.”

  She poured them both a glass and they sat up at the breakfast bar sipping it, watching Charlie.

  “You’ll have to put pillows around him,” Toby said, “in case he falls asleep and slips off.”

  She smiled. “Yeah.” She looked up and met his gaze. “Thank you for the horse, Toby. It was a lovely gift—you’ve worked really hard.”

  He shrugged, although her comment pleased him. “I enjoyed it.” He cleared his throat. “I thought a lot about what you said, about the fact that I’m only going to university because I want approval from everyone else.”

  She reddened. “Oh jeez, I’m so sorry about that, I shouldn’t—”

  He held up a hand. “You were right. My heart’s not in it. My talent lies with working on the actual wood, with making other people’s plans reality. I have to accept that’s a skill in itself, and it’s something to be proud of.”

  “It is.” She looked earnest.

  “Yes, I think so, and you’re the one who made me see that. And with that in mind, I’ve decided, I’m not going to university. Instead, I’m going to work on some wooden sculpture in my spare time, and hopefully sell a few pieces, maybe even build a business.” He shrugged. “I’ll see where it takes me.”

  Her face lit up with a beautiful smile. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. Imagine how many of these horses you could sell.”

  He glanced over at Charlie. “Nah. I’ll only ever make one rocking horse.” The boy’s eyes were closed. He looked completely comfortable draped over the wooden toy. Toby walked over and placed some of the sofa cushions around him, just in case. If his son was anywhere near as clumsy as himself, he’d almost certainly fall off.

  Esther sipped from her glass. When he looked back at her, he saw it was to cover the tears in her eyes.

  “So what about you?” he said. He glanced around the room. “I thought you’d be all packed and living out of boxes.”

  She swallowed the wine and lifted her chin. “Actually, I’ve decided to stay here.”

  His eyes widened. “Oh?”

  “I’ve been in touch with Canterbury University and they plan to reopen soon. And it’s odd—although I have some difficult memories here, with my parents dying and everything, I feel disloyal thinking about leaving. It’s not the city’s fault. I want to be part of the reconstruction, and help it to go back to what it was.”

  He smiled. “That’s great. I understand.”

  Their gazes met. Her green eyes were wary. He still had no idea how she felt about him. Sure, his gift to Charlie had touched her. But whether that meant she could forgive him, whether they had a future, he wasn’t sure.

  He took a deep breath and reached for her hand. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Chapter Fifty

  Esther’s heart stopped. Well, it felt like it might have. Her head spun and it was difficult to breathe.

  “For what?” she whispered.

  “For many things. Mainly for walking away from you in Fiji.” He examined her fingers. “I was young and foolish then. I’d had a lot of girlfriends, none of whom had been serious, and all my mates were single. I wasn’t ready to settle down. Marriage, mortgage, children, the thought scared the crap out of me.”

  Her lips twisted wryly. “It didn’t take a genius to guess you’d freaked out at the thought of some girl getting serious about you.”

  He frowned. “No, you don’t quite understand. During those two weeks we spent together, I had feelings for you that I’d never had before for a girl. I fell in love with you, Esther.”

  Her jaw dropped. “Oh…” She’d never guessed that was the case. She’d assumed he’d panicked at the thought of a girl having serious feelings about him when he didn’t reciprocate them.

  “I’d never been in love before. I didn’t recognise it at the time—I thought I was caught up in the excitement of the holiday. I thought what I was feeling couldn’t possibly continue into real life. I assumed when you asked to see me again that it was a waste of time—not only did we live at opposite ends of the country, but we were high on summer and the sand and the sea, and we couldn’t carry on like that. I didn’t realise what being in love felt like.”

  He raised her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. “But now I do. Now I know that what I was feeling was true, and it wasn’t going to go away. As soon as I got on that plane, I knew I’d made a mistake. The moment I got home, I tried to contact you at the university. I was devastated when I couldn’t find you. I didn’t date again for ages. And even when I did date again, I didn’t feel anything like the emotions I had while in Fiji.”

  She pressed her other hand to her mouth. “Oh, Toby…”

  He smiled and cupped her cheek. “I’m so sorry I broke your heart. I’ll never forgive myself for that. And I know I can never make it up to you. But I’d like to spend the rest of my life trying. I asked you to marry me on the night before Dan’s wedding. I know I was drunk and I did it by text.” He winced. “But the sentiment was true. I love you, Esther. I’d like to move to Christchurch and work here, for a while anyway, and help to rebuild the city. And I’d like to share the renewal with you.”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks. “But…what about the fact that I threw away your messages? That I didn’t tell you about Charlie? How can you ever forgive me for that?”

  He dropped his hand. “A wise woman told me that real love is about recognising your partner’s faults and saying you’re going to love them in spite of them. We’ve both made mistakes, honey. But the important thing is that we both regret doing them. If we really regret it, then there’s no reason we can’t move on.”

  “I do regret it,” she said, wiping her face and sniffling. “So many times I picked up the phone to try and find you, but I was hurting so much that every time I hung up, because I wanted to punish you for leaving me. But deep down I knew it wasn’t working, because how could I be punishing you when you didn’t know about Charlie? I think I was punishing myself—forcing myself to cope alone because I felt I’d been stupid to fall in love, and even more stupid to get pregnant.”

  He looked pained. “I’m so sorry you had to go through it
all alone. And I’m so sorry about that fucking condom.”

  She bit her lip. “It must have been such a shock for you, finding out about Charlie after the earthquake. I can’t believe how nice you were about it. You could have been so angry with me.”

  “Angry?” He looked puzzled. “Why would I be angry? He’s an angel.” His gaze drifted to his sleeping son, and his expression softened.

  He really loved Charlie, she realised.

  And he really loved her.

  His gaze came back to her. He smiled. “Thank you for giving me my son. It’s the best present I’ve ever had. Even better than the huge box of Lego I got on my eighth birthday.”

  She laughed through her tears. “I’m so glad the two of you get on well. He’s missed you so. That week we spent together made me realize how important it is for a boy to have his father around. Oh, I know many women cope perfectly well as single mothers, and there’s nothing wrong with that, but watching you with him made me understand how much our parents are role models for us.”

  “Maybe.” He picked up her hand again and then, to her surprise, got off the stool and sank onto one knee. “So, what about it? Will you marry me? For real? I can’t promise I’ll be a perfect husband. I can’t iron to save my life. And I suck at cooking anything more complicated than pasta. But I’ll try.” He kissed her fingers again. “I love you.”

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I love you too. And yes, I’ll marry you.”

  Relief flooded his face and he stood and pulled her into his arms. “You won’t regret it, I promise.”

  “Oh, Toby.”

  He lowered his lips to hers. She slid her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, wanting to cry again at the beautiful familiarity of the feel of his hair in her fingers, the slide of his tongue against hers. She loved him, and she wasn’t afraid to admit it any longer. True, there were no guarantees that this would have a happy ending. But love didn’t come with guarantees. Like the city in which they were going to live, they would rebuild their relationship brick by brick, stone by stone, from the foundations up.