The Marriage Gamble

by Meredith Webber

  Mike sighed.

  ‘I’ll call you back.’

  He pressed the code for the school’s number, introduced himself and asked if he could speak to the house mistress on duty. Worry that his daughter might not be happy at the school added to his growing burden of anxiety. When Lauren had insisted that Libby go to boarding school, leaving her and her new husband free to travel the world, Mike had objected, but his own living arrangements and work hours were such that having her live with him was impossible.

  Though if he hired a full-time housekeeper…

  Or married Jacinta?

  ‘Mr Trent? Jillian Frost here.’ A woman’s voice brought him out of the realm of conjecture, though the final thought had been so mind-blowing Mike had felt his stomach knot. ‘Did you want to speak to Libby? She won’t be back from their sporting fixture until after seven. It’s a two-hour bus trip.’

  ‘No, I was wondering about tomorrow. Her mother tells me she’s not going to her, and Libby cancelled her Sunday with me a fortnight ago, so we were worried there might be something upsetting her.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Miss Frost said vaguely, then something must have clicked into place. ‘Oh, it’s another onslaught out at Ellerslie House. It opens next weekend and I think tomorrow the plan is to help with the landscaping. “Kids Helping Kids”, you know.’

  The ‘kids helping kids’ phrase rang a vague bell, but the rest of the explanation might as well have been in Swahili for all the sense it made to Mike.

  ‘No, I don’t know,’ he said bluntly. ‘Somewhere along the line I’ve missed something.’

  Miss Frost explained how the group had originally been set up as a community project within the school curriculum. ‘Wednesday afternoons, in school time, when pupils do work in the community,’ she reminded him. ‘Libby’s group somehow heard about this house being set up as a permanent home for street kids, and wanted to work there. Originally there was a lot of cleaning, then painting—things they could do to save the costs of having professionals in.’

  Was it the house he’d heard about last Tuesday evening?

  ‘Anyway, as the countdown to the official opening began, there was mass panic that it might not be finished in time, hence the Sundays given over to it as well.’

  ‘If they need extra physical labour in the yard, I’d be happy to help,’ he heard himself offer. ‘Give me a chance to catch up with Libby as well. Do you have the address?’

  Miss Frost was only too delighted to give it to him, assuring him that the more helpers they had, the better.

  Which didn’t mean Jacinta would be there, he told himself.

  Jacinta arrived home to a deserted house. She knew her mother and Fizzy would be over at Ellerslie House. At least now she could cook them a hot meal to come home to, and be available herself to help tomorrow.

  But no one came home to dinner, though preparing the meal had given her something to do apart from thinking about Mike and the shattered state of her heart. She packed the food into containers and dumped them in the refrigerator and left a note for her mother. ‘I’m home, don’t ask, wake me in time to go with you in the morning.’

  And went to bed, though not to sleep.

  Mike was a businessman—she’d known that all along—and selling Abbott Road was, no doubt, a sound business decision. So shouldn’t she have listened to him this afternoon instead of ranting, raving, hitting him, then storming away?

  I’d have listened to him if he’d told me instead of letting me find out like that, her head argued. If he’d been honest with me about it.

  But being right, or even part-way right, didn’t ease the tightness in her chest, the bruised feeling around her heart or the aching sense of loss that had invaded her body like an untreatable virus.

  She heard her mother and Fizzy return, voices and footsteps, the sounds of bedtime and quiet goodnight calls. But instead of feeling comforted by their presence in the house, Jacinta’s sense of loneliness intensified.

  They were late arriving at Ellerslie House next morning, as her mother, apparently, had slept in. Jacinta suspected it had been done deliberately, but as they were all maintaining a polite façade and no one was asking awkward questions she didn’t raise the subject.

  ‘The “Kids Helping Kids” group from your old school are all here again,’ her mother remarked, as they parked behind a big white van with a wheelchair lift at the back. ‘It’s wonderful how enthusiastic they are.’

  Jacinta forced her mind away from the death of her relationship with Mike and agreed that the group, formed after she’d spoken at her old school, had indeed been helpful.

  ‘And look, for heaven’s sake, that’s Ted Trent over there,’ her mother added, pointing to where laughing schoolgirls were loading a man in an electric wheelchair with potted plants. ‘He’s being used as a self-propelled wheelbarrow by the look of things. I’ll just pop over and say hello.’

  Fizzy had already moved away, so Jacinta was deserted, looking towards the man in the wheelchair, wondering how badly disabled he was—and if he drove himself or if someone had driven him.

  And what was he doing here? Had her mother asked him to come? Was there more to her mother’s friendship with him than conversations about broccoli?

  ‘That’s all I need!’ she muttered to herself. ‘Mum to become involved with Mike’s father!’

  But the question of how Ted Trent had got there took priority over her mother’s interests right now, and Jacinta glanced back towards the white van.

  If the van with the ramp was his, then he probably didn’t drive himself.

  Though maybe he had a friend who drove him places. Or a chauffeur. Mike could afford it.

  ‘Are you here to help or just to admire our industry?’ Bonnie called to her.

  With her heart beating so hesitantly she thought she might faint, Jacinta stepped slowly into the yard.

  ‘The girls are doing the planting down the side fence,’ Bonnie told her. ‘The nursery donated not only all the plants but a chap to supervise where and how to plant them, so he’s in charge there. He’s young and gorgeous so the girls are falling over themselves to help.’

  ‘I can see that,’ Jacinta said, wondering why the girlish laughter should be jarring so badly on her nerves. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Lay turf?’ Bonnie asked. ‘It’s in big rolls. The boys are out the back, raking and levelling the soil, and as they do one patch we need someone to roll out the strips of turf. It’s out there as well, a great pallet of it a lawn company donated. People are so good, aren’t they?’

  Bonnie was so pleased with the world Jacinta wanted to bite her, but she moved obediently down the drive on the far side of the house towards the back yard.

  Rolling out turf sounded like the kind of hard physical work she needed. Something to exhaust her body so, hopefully, her mind would stop its ceaseless circling, around and around in ever-increasing whirls of misery.

  But Mike was there, stripped to the waist like Will and Dean, shovelling sand from a heap into a real wheelbarrow, while the boys wheeled and tipped and raked it smooth.

  ‘Hi, Jacinta.’ Will greeted her with delight. ‘Fizzy said you wouldn’t make it. Something about going away. But I knew you wouldn’t want to miss such an exciting job. Do you want to rake?’

  She’d seen Mike turn when Will had called to her but, though he’d nodded briefly, the pile of sand was now demanding all his attention.

  ‘No, I’m here to roll turf. Just tell me where to start.’

  ‘I’ll help you,’ Dean offered. ‘I’ll carry the rolls and you can spread them out. Mike and Will can manage the sand.’

  Jacinta’s eyes strayed to where Mike was ‘managing’ the sand, and her fingers tingled as she remembered how those rippling muscles had felt beneath her hands.

  She followed Dean to the pallet of turf, wondering about Mike’s presence—and whether her mother had anything to do with it.

  ‘I’ll kill her!’ she muttered to herself, st
artling Dean with her vehemence. But he didn’t ask who’d prompted the murderous remark, simply lifted a roll off the pile and carried it to the back fence.

  Jacinta lifted another one and followed him, surprised by the weight of grass and the thin layer of dirt beneath it. Following Dean’s lead, she bent and unrolled it, then found a smile for him.

  ‘You look at if you’ve done this before,’ she said, and he responded with his own shy smile.

  ‘I want to work in landscaping. We’ve done this in the Saturday morning course I’ve been doing at the college. Landscaped the house where the deaf students have their meetings.’

  The simple pleasure in his voice lifted a little of the sadness from Jacinta’s heart. How could she be so overwhelmed by the pain of love when this lad had overcome the death of his mother, abandonment by his mother’s lover and then the rigours of life on the streets?

  Ignoring his protests that he’d carry and she could spread, she followed him back to the stack and carried the next roll into position. Then the next, and the next.

  Mike watched Jacinta work, saw the way her knees buckled at times, and finally he broke.

  ‘You finish the sand,’ he said to Will. ‘There’s not much.’

  Then he strode across to where Jacinta was struggling with a bigger than usual roll of turf.

  ‘They’re too heavy for you,’ he growled, snatching it out of her hands and scowling ferociously down into her dirt-streaked and heat-flushed face. ‘Dean and I will carry—you unroll them.’

  He saw the fire flash in her eyes and knew she wanted to snatch it right back, but couldn’t—which only made her angrier.

  ‘What are you doing here anyway?’ she snapped at him, following him to where the next strip would be laid. ‘Come to crow, have you? To rub salt into the wound?’

  ‘I came because they needed help,’ he told her, bending to set the roll in place, ‘but you probably won’t believe that any more than you’ll believe I didn’t tell you about selling Abbott Road because I wanted to have alternative accommodation for the clinic lined up first.’

  She was standing over him, hands on hips, a very grubby virago with the wind taken out of her sails.

  ‘Alternative accommodation?’ she whispered. ‘You’re not closing the clinic?’

  The hesitation in her whispered words weakened Mike’s determination to pay her back for her fury of the previous day—and for spoiling the entire weekend with her leap to a false conclusion.

  Suddenly he wanted to say it didn’t matter—that they could forget about it and go on from here. Damn it all, he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her close and promise her the moon and stars and a few planets as well. But her eyes had narrowed suspiciously, and he suspected this wasn’t quite the moment for a declaration.

  Jacinta studied him, trying to assimilate what he’d said—and wondering if any apology would be sufficient to undo the damage she’d done.

  But it wasn’t all her fault, Jacinta told herself. And there was still the commitment thing.

  Forget the apology. It was easier to stay at odds with Mike.

  Better, too.

  Far better.

  ‘Did my mother phone you? Tell you I’d be here?’ she demanded. ‘Is that why you came?’

  His answering frown suggested that hadn’t been the case. He asked, ‘Why would your mother phone me?’ Which confirmed her guess.

  ‘I just thought…’ Disappointment that he hadn’t come to see her shafted into her lungs, but if her mother hadn’t phoned…

  ‘Why are you here?’

  Mike grinned as if he’d followed every nuance of her tortuous thoughts.

  ‘Would you believe so I could spend some time with my daughter? Though I must admit, the idea that you might be part of the working party did cross my mind.’

  The grin had started her thinking things she shouldn’t think, but the mention of his daughter diverted her enough to say, ‘Your daughter? Where on earth does your daughter come into this?’

  ‘She’s working here. In fact, I think it’s time you met her. And my dad.’

  He turned to Will and Dean.

  ‘You guys keep at it, OK? I need Jacinta for a minute.’ He slipped his arm around her shoulders, tucked her close against his body and whispered silkily into her ear, ‘Actually, I need Jacinta for far longer than a minute, but we’ve things to work out first.’

  He guided her towards the bevy of young girls working on the planting.

  ‘Libby!’

  Jacinta recovered sufficient brainpower to stop moving. She even managed to step away from him, but when she looked up into his grey-blue—today—eyes, what she saw there made her mouth go dry.

  So the words, when they came, were hoarse.

  ‘Libby? Our Libby from “Kids Helping Kids” is your Libby? But she’s a boarder. Why?’

  Mike smiled at her.

  ‘Yes, she’s my Libby and the “why” is something you and I might discuss some other time.’

  By then Libby had joined them, and once again Mike slid his arm around Jacinta’s shoulders.

  ‘Jacinta tells me you two know each other,’ he said to his daughter, who was looking from one to the other with utter astonishment.

  ‘But you don’t know Jacinta, Dad,’ she finally said. ‘I asked you ages ago if you knew any of the doctors from the Abbott Road Clinic and you said no.’

  ‘I didn’t know her then,’ Mike answered, his grip on Jacinta tightening. ‘But now I do, and just as soon as I’ve given her a little time to get to know me better I intend to marry her.’

  ‘Marry Jacinta? Oh, Dad, that’s wonderful!’

  Libby threw herself forward and hugged them both with such delight that Jacinta felt it wasn’t the moment to disabuse Mike’s daughter of the marriage idea.

  ‘I’ll go and tell Grandad. He’ll be pleased, too. He’s been so afraid you’d end up a lonely old misogynist.’

  She dashed off with the energy of youth, leaving Jacinta uncertain what to say next. She stepped away from Mike again and eyed him warily.

  ‘Marriage? You told me you didn’t intend marrying anyone. You gave me sensible reasons,’ Jacinta reminded him. ‘Then suddenly you’re making marriage announcements to your daughter.’

  He grinned at her again.

  ‘I know—I should have asked you first, but I knew you’d say you didn’t know me well enough, or that you didn’t like me, or make some other pathetic excuse, so I thought I’d get it all out into the open, then one day, if we ever get some time to ourselves, I’d ask you properly.’

  He paused and reached out to take both her hands.

  ‘But you must know, Jacinta, that we belong together. What I feel is so strong it can’t be one-sided.’

  She was struggling to find words—to find breath as well—when Mike looked beyond her.

  ‘Word travels fast,’ he murmured. ‘Here comes my dad and, if I’m not mistaken, your mother close behind him. So if I’m definitely and absolutely wrong about all this and you feel nothing for me at all, now’s the time to say so.’

  She looked at him and read the pain of uncertainty in his eyes.

  ‘I’m not saying yes,’ she warned him, and saw a smile stretch his lips and the doubt fade from his eyes.

  ‘I haven’t asked you yet,’ he reminded her, then once again he put his arm around her and drew her close, turning her so he could introduce her to his father.

  ‘We’re not getting married,’ Jacinta warned the two older people, when she’d made the appropriate responses to the introduction and properly introduced her mother to Mike. ‘We hardly know each other.’

  ‘Something I aim to rectify if I can get her away from her lame ducks for long enough,’ Mike said, holding Jacinta with one arm but keeping hold of Mrs Ford’s hand. ‘Have you any advice as to how I might do that?’

  Mrs Ford smiled at him, her eyes lighting up in just the way Jacinta’s did.

  ‘I found it was a case of if you can’t bea
t her, join her. I see more of her at meetings and at work parties like this than I do at home.’

  Mike released the older woman’s hand, and nodded.

  ‘I guess that means we should get back to laying turf,’ he said, resting his hands on Jacinta’s shoulders to turn her in the direction of the back yard.

  He felt the quiver of reaction his touch had generated, and felt an answering tremor in his own body. Leaning forward, he rested his lips on the shiny hair above her ear and added, ‘Fast! Once it’s done I can spirit you away from here and tell you properly how I feel about you.’

  Which would have worked if Jacinta hadn’t remembered Mrs Nevin.

  ‘So, you see, I really should go and see her.’ She finished her explanation, her eyes pleading for Mike’s understanding yet again. They were at the front gate of Ellerslie House. They’d cleaned off most of the dirt under the outside tap, their relatives were gone and Mike was insisting she decide where they’d go for dinner—once she’d had a shower and tidied up. ‘Even before I have a shower, I should see her.’

  ‘Mrs Nevin?’ Mike repeated, frowning down at Jacinta as if totally at sea, though her explanation had been clear.

  ‘The woman I had the police rescue from the old building up the road. Yesterday,’ she added helpfully.

  ‘A building in Abbott Road? Was it number one hundred and forty-six?’

  He’d obviously gone mad, Jacinta decided. Too much sun!

  ‘I’ve no idea what number the building is. That’s not the point, Mike. Mrs Nevin is. I should go and see her in hospital before I do anything else, if only to reassure her about the operation.’

  He was still frowning, though not quite as fiercely.

  ‘And you say she had keys to the building?’

  ‘She gave me the keys,’ Jacinta said. ‘But they don’t work, the door’s boarded up.’

  ‘It has to be her,’ Mike declared, then the frown was wiped away with a wide sunny smile. ‘Come on, what are you waiting for? Let’s go.’

  He hustled Jacinta towards his car.

  ‘To think I spent all morning yesterday trying to track her down, and you were ministering to her like a guardian angel.’