Mr. Unforgettable

by Karina Bliss

  Luke stopped her at the bottom of the stairs. “Go back and stand your ground. You can talk to Kirsty later.”

  “Our affair has jeopardized everything I care about.”

  “Why are you acting guilty? You know we’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “You’ve done nothing wrong…I—”

  She broke off as Kirsty marched past. “Stop! We need to talk.”

  Ignoring her, Kirsty shoved through the double doors leading to the car park. “Wait here,” Liz said to Luke, and ran after her.

  “All that talk of a conscience vote was a lie,” Kirsty said over her shoulder. “How could you, Lizzy? How could you betray Dad’s memory, not just privately, but politically?”

  “You’re wrong, Kirsty. No one influenced my decision, not even your father. And my relationship with Luke was already over when I changed my mind.”

  Kirsty stopped. “So it didn’t mean anything?”

  As she hesitated, her daughter-in-law’s expression hardened.

  Liz panicked. “No.”

  “You know what?” Kirsty tore off her campaign button and threw it on the ground. “That only makes your disloyalty worse.”

  “We’ll talk when you’ve calmed down,” Liz called after her. Then she’d tell Kirsty everything—about her childhood, about her complicated feelings for Luke Carter.

  With a sigh, Liz turned around and froze. Luke stood there. For a moment she saw her anguish reflected in his expression, then his eyes steeled to winter gray. “Now there’s nothing more to say.” He turned on his heel.

  Liz let him go. She’d betrayed him, she’d betrayed Harry and she’d ruined everything that was lovely in both relationships. She deserved to be alone.

  Somehow she gathered the nerve to go back, but Jo had managed to restore order and move the meeting along. Delores had taken her turn at the podium and by her strident tone, intended holding the floor for a while.

  Liz hesitated at the side of the stage and stared at her empty chair, brightly lit by floodlights. What was she going to say? Her emotions were in turmoil, her mind blank with shock.

  As she stepped forward, Jo caught sight of her and left the stage, grabbing Liz by the arm and steering her back behind the curtain. “Not a good idea. Emotions are running high and too many people have seen your campaign manager quit.” Her tone was cool.

  “I have to fix this,” said Liz. “For everybody.”

  “Well, you’ve got guts, I’ll give you that.” Jo let go of Liz’s arm. “But if I were you, I’d regroup first. I think everyone was ready to give you the benefit of the doubt,” she added. “But by publicly admitting you’re acting against their favorite mayor’s wishes, then having his daughter question your ethics…I’m afraid you’re screwed. You should have…” Her voice trailed off.

  “Lied?” Liz smiled faintly. “Let’s just enjoy the irony, shall we?”

  For a long moment the two women stared at each other. “Don’t give up,” Jo said. “We need people like you in local government.”

  “I wouldn’t give Snowy the satisfaction.” But it was empty bravado. He’d beaten her and he knew it. Across the stage their eyes met. Smiling, he mouthed, “It’s not personal, it’s politics.”

  “You’re right,” she said to Jo, fighting down her rage. “I won’t make any headway tonight and I need to prepare. What’s the hall’s availability?”

  Intrigued, Jo checked the schedule. “Thursday’s the only night free.”

  Two days before the election. Who the hell was she kidding? Liz lifted her chin. “I’ll take it.”

  “YOU GUYS SHOULD be collecting your bags,” Luke called across Camp Chance’s sports field. “The bus is nearly ready to leave.”

  The cluster of kids conspiring at the tree line behind the goalpost broke apart. Five voices rose in a crescendo as each vied to be heard.

  “We’re chasing a bird—”

  “It’s a seagull, dummy.”

  “His wing’s tangled in netting but he won’t let us catch him.”

  Luke put his hands over his ears. “No wonder, with that racket. Haven’t you ever heard of commando tactics?”

  Immediately they quieted to a reverential hush, as round-eyed, they awaited instructions. He gestured them into a huddle around him. “The important thing about being a commando is working together to sneak up on your prey. Where’s the bird?”

  Moana gestured to the newly planted trees skirting the playing field.

  “Okay, I need you to fan out behind the trees and flush it out onto the field. I’ll take it from there. Mo, you stay in case I need your help.”

  As they waited, Moana studied him, her dark eyes troubled. “You’re sad.”

  “You’re all going home,” he said lightly. “I’ll miss you.” The first camp had been a great success. He wondered how many more Triton could sustain.

  “Nah, you won’t. ’Specially not me.”

  “I’ll miss you the most.” He ruffled her hair. “So guess you had a good time after all, huh?”

  Her thin shoulder lifted in an insouciant shrug. “It was all right. I’m coming back next year,” she added anxiously, in case she’d taken her cool too far.

  Even if the camp was still here, he wouldn’t be. “I’m glad.” All the local support, so carefully built up over the previous weeks, had dried up in the wake of Tuesday’s meeting. All because he’d committed the cardinal sin of getting romantically involved with Harry Light’s widow. He’d jeopardized the camp’s future for a woman who said their relationship had meant nothing. Sad didn’t even begin to cover how he was feeling.

  “I’ve come for that tour,” said Liz quietly behind them.

  Moana’s face lit up. “Hi, Liz!”

  Luke didn’t turn around. “Ask Rosie to take you. I’m rescuing a bird.”

  “Can I help?”

  “No.” Out of the corner of his eye Luke saw Moana staring at him and added reluctantly, “We’re fine. Thanks.”

  Behind him Liz murmured, “You’re not making this easy.”

  His anger reached flashpoint. He’d let down his guard, and she’d inflicted a terminal wound. The Band-Aid of an apology wasn’t going to fix this. And she wanted it easy?

  He turned and glared at her, ignoring the fact that she looked like hell. “Then how about we make this effortless and fast-forward to the goodbye?”

  Liz winced but held her ground. The bird squawked onto the field, one wing raised, the other trailing behind. Luke pulled off his T-shirt and with two quick steps had the gull wrapped snugly.

  Through the cloth he felt its thinness; it hadn’t eaten for a while. “Hold him, Mo, while I check the wing.”

  But Moana had retreated about twenty meters. Wordlessly Liz took the bird. It gave her hands a perfunctory peck before sinking its head into its shoulders, resigned.

  “I came to camp because you won’t answer my messages,” she said in a low voice. “That alone must tell you how desperate I am. Please, Luke, let me explain.”

  “I’m bored with this subject, let’s change it.” He peeled the cloth away from the seagull’s body.

  “Okay.” The pleading note had left her voice. “The night your divorce papers came through, you were talking about your swimming career. What were you going to say about your coach?”

  He didn’t flinch from the challenge. “He wasn’t happy when I opted for early retirement and we grew apart.”

  “But…” She stared at him. “Wasn’t he also your foster dad?”

  The kids arrived, clamoring to see, so they crouched down. Moana tugged his arm. “What’s wrong with the bird?”

  “His wing’s caught in a piece of fishing net—just as you guys told me. There’s a hook under the skin as well, that’s why he hasn’t pulled it off.”

  Liz was so close, he could smell her vanilla perfume, mixed with her own subtle scent. With a deft twist, Luke removed the hook from the wing. The seagull blinked. “If you have to do something painful, make it quick.” Delibe
rately, he pinned Liz’s gaze. “Don’t draw things out.”

  She swallowed.

  Carefully, he started untangling the rest of the netting. “I hear Snowy’s taken the lead.”

  She didn’t flinch, either. “It’s not over until the last vote has been counted.” Even in his anger, Luke felt a flash of pride in her courage. “And there’s still the meeting tonight,” she added, “to set the record straight.”

  “I’ll be there if that’s what you’re worried about. In public, we present a unified front.”

  In a low voice she said, “You know that’s not why I’m here.”

  He concentrated on the task. “My fingers are too big to tease this knot out…any of you kids want to try?”

  “Touch a bird? No way.”

  “It might peck me.”

  “What if he dumps on my hand? He’s probably already done it in your T-shirt.”

  Liz gave him the seagull. “I’ll do it.” As she bent over the bird cupped in his hands, her hair trailed over his forearms in strands of blond silk. The kids edged closer again, their breath tickling Luke’s bare shoulders as they strained to look.

  There were memories in his life that Luke could evoke with all senses, and suddenly he knew this would be one of them. Crouching with the sun on his back, the new-mown grass fragrant in his nostrils, he closed his eyes, this moment so intensely tangled with life and inexplicable longing, it hurt. There was nowhere he would rather be right now than here with these kids and this woman saving an injured bird.

  Liz stepped back. “Done.”

  Luke set the bird on the ground and gently unwrapped it. The seagull staggered forward, flapped its wings to steady itself, orange feet skittering down the field. “Fly,” encouraged the children. “Fly! Fly!”

  The gull stopped. “It needs to get used to the idea,” said Liz. “We can wait.”

  Careless of her suit, she sat on the field, cross-legged; the kids followed her lead. They all looked expectantly toward the bird, and Luke felt a curious ache under his ribs. Their patience had so much faith. “And if it won’t?” he murmured so only Liz could hear.

  The bird flew. Just like that. Yelling, the kids chased its shadow down the field.

  Liz screened her eyes against the sun, still following the seagull’s flight, and he had to ask, “Have you sorted things out with Kirsty?”

  “She won’t talk to me unless I withdraw my support of Camp Corporate—as Harry would have wanted.”

  Luke remembered that Kirsty had held a grudge over the lifetime of Liz’s marriage, and frowned. “But you’ll still get access to Harriet?”

  “Neville’s trying to talk her into it, but…” Her voice trailed off. With jerky movements, she brushed grass clippings off her clothes.

  His unease deepened. “C’mon, guys,” he yelled, “you’ve got a bus to catch.” They ran ahead, while he followed with Liz. “Are you saying that supporting Camp Corporate could cost you not just your job, but Harry’s family?”

  “It’s not your problem.” Liz quickened her pace and pulled ahead. “It’s mine.” He’d always enjoyed the mayor’s brisk stride and her body’s no-nonsense focus on reaching her destination. Today she walked as if hunted, with her head bowed, clasping her wrist.

  Inside him, something crumbled.

  She had no one left on her side. He was no different from Kirsty with her emotional blackmail or those in the community expecting Liz to act like a saintly hologram of Harry Light.

  “Withdraw your support,” he said curtly, catching her up. “You probably can’t retain the mayoralty at this point but you can keep Harriet.”

  They’d reached the camp’s front entrance. She stopped, dazed. “But this camp’s future—”

  “Is my problem, not yours.” Screw it, he’d sell his share of the business if he needed to, to keep Camp Chance going. All these people, demanding Liz be what they needed her to be. He couldn’t be another one of them. “Do what you have to do, Liz. For once, put yourself first.”

  She took a deep, shuddering breath. “Luke, about what you overheard—”

  “Forget it.”

  “I was lying when I said you didn’t matter.” Her voice was tight, almost breathless. “You do…too much.”

  Always the damn qualifier. Luke had quit competitive swimming when he stopped winning. Coming second wasn’t in his nature. “I’m moving back to Auckland after the election.”

  “Oh.” She went very still.

  “Christian and Jordan have been agitating for their turn, and given recent events I’ll probably do more harm than good by staying.”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  He couldn’t get what he wanted. “Listen, I have to go,” he said roughly. “Get these kids organized. Rosie!” he called. “If you’ve finished saying goodbye, show the mayor around the place, will you?”

  “If now’s not a good time—” Liz began.

  “It’s fine. See you at the meeting.” He left her standing there.

  At the bus he shook every kid’s hand as they prepared to embark. “Joey, good luck with the rugby trials next week…. Donna, remember what I said about handling your brother…” If his heart would up and die he could cope, but the death throes were driving him insane.

  He held out his hand to Moana.

  “You’re weird,” she said and hugged him.

  For a moment Luke couldn’t speak. “Next year you might even be bigger than your attitude, Mo,” he said in a husky voice.

  Halfway up the bus stairs, Moana stopped and hollered to the kids still waiting to board. “Hey everyone, Luke wants hugs.” With a cheeky smile, she disappeared.

  That kid was always going to get the last word.

  But after another dozen hugs, Luke felt as though he might live.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CAMP CHANCE HAD BEEN inspiring.

  Later that afternoon Liz walked along the shoreline, clutching her shoes in one hand.

  Even though she knew a man like Luke wouldn’t build anything but the best, it had always been seeing the kids in the camp environment that Liz had dreaded most. She’d been terrified of catching a glimpse of hopelessness, of fear…of lost expressions in their faces.

  While she’d been heartened by the camp kids she’d met at the swim, it hadn’t been enough to prompt a visit. When Liz had been young, all the confident kids had been paraded on the home’s public outings—it was good politics. And Luke had professionals running Camp Chance.

  The incoming waves hissed up the sand, then relentlessly dragged it away under her feet, forcing her to higher ground.

  But she’d seen every kid as they clambered into the bus and Beth Sloane hadn’t been reflected in a single happy face. Closing her eyes, Liz took a deep breath and let her childhood go.

  There were still other things to let go, but she wasn’t ready.

  She opened her eyes and started walking again, faster now. Farther along the beach, a sand castle, dappled with sea foam, sagged into the swirl of water. Liz stopped and watched it disappear.

  What should she do? Harry would have been able to tell her. And that was partly what troubled her. Had he always guided her or had she canonized him after he died? The real man was lost to her; all Liz had was memory now, uncertain and frighteningly selective.

  Climbing to the top of one of the dunes, she sat and stared blankly at the horizon. In a few hours she’d be standing on a podium fighting, not only for her political life, but also for Camp Chance’s future. Kirsty would be there, waiting to hear where Liz’s loyalties lay.

  Was keeping Kirsty in her life worth ditching her integrity?

  As Liz agonized, a child’s chatter pierced her reverie. A young woman power walked along the beach, her dark ponytail swinging with every stride. A young boy followed in her footsteps, dragging a long stick behind him. He stopped then, ditching the stick, bent to pick up a starfish.

  “Mum, look what I found.”

  His mother turned, but kept w
alking backward. “C’mon, Brett,” she coaxed. “Remember our game?”

  Clutching his new treasure, the boy went back to stepping in her larger footprints, his short legs straining with the effort.

  When they were out of sight, Liz resumed her walk, pausing next to the imprint of small bare feet in the tread of a larger sports shoe. On impulse she hunkered down to trace it with her fingers. Who cared about integrity when the alternative was losing Harriet?

  She picked up the stick the boy had discarded and wrote the only absolute truth she knew in the wet sand, where the waves would soon obliterate it.

  I love Luke.

  A wave swept over the message, then receded, leaving the words fainter but still readable. Like a feeling that couldn’t be erased. Liz walked on.

  As much as she’d adored Harry, her love had always had a reverential quality. He was the one who first saw Beth Sloane as she longed to be. Special. With his unswerving devotion, he’d made Liz feel safe but—she acknowledged the truth—he’d never made her feel needed.

  Luke needed her.

  His eyes had given him away after she’d told Kirsty their affair hadn’t meant anything. He loved her and now he was protecting himself and Liz was letting him because she had choices to make—hard choices.

  Luke had told her to put herself first, even when her decision had the potential to hurt the camp’s future…and his. As strong as Harry was, Luke was stronger. Yes, she loved him, but how would Kirsty react to that?

  Liz realized she was matching her stride to the existing tracks and stopped. Hadn’t she been doing this since Harry died? Walking in his shoes. On the other hand, her troubles had only begun since she’d started going her own way.

  Her eyes burned. Independence had a price.

  She remembered the words carved into the front entrance of Camp Chance and its promise to the kids who came there. “I believe in you,” she recited in a low voice. “I have faith in you. I know you can handle it.” There were other affirmations—about being cared for, listened to, about being valuable. Liz recited them all, then turned for home.

  In her bedroom, she got Harry’s old sweater out of the wardrobe and buried her face in it, her decision made.