Simmering Season

by Jenn J. McLeod

  ‘I think about you and your Dad. I wasn’t there later that night, but Maggie ever since I’ve learned how it works, that late-night knock, the words that sound so cold … I see your dad. I see you. And I hate myself.’ Dan’s boot sent a stone skipping across the quadrangle, followed by another. ‘Shit, listen to me. Bet you’ve never had such a fun date. Laugh-a-minute Ireland, that’s me.’ He stood, jammed his hands in the pockets of his jeans and pouted a little. Suddenly, he was out of Maggie’s reach, the hand she’d wanted to hold now finger-combing his hair. ‘Tell me to shut up, will you? Coming here was a bad idea. I’m spoiling your night.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’ve made my night, if you really want to know. So sit.’ Maggie patted the balance beam. ‘You don’t have to shut up.’

  Dan eased back into the space beside Maggie, his hand resting on the beam next to hers. So close. One small movement and their little fingers would touch, and like live wires they would give off sparks equal to the dazzling display Maggie saw in the sky to the east. How brilliant. How beautiful. How dangerous lightning like that could be near a tinder box like Maggie. She didn’t imagine the shudder that rippled through her body and neither did Dan.

  ‘You’re cold?’ he asked with a curious lilt to his voice and an expression to match.

  When his arm made a move to wrap around Maggie’s shoulder she launched herself off their makeshift seat. This fairy tale had to end.

  ‘Maybe I should keep my distance in case I’m coming down with something,’ she offered. ‘Certainly has been nice catching up, Dan. Will you be stopping long in town?’

  ‘Back home tomorrow. Kids rule my life these days. I’m on leave and trying to make up for all the times I was working when they were little.’

  ‘What about you and your dad? Did you get a chance to see him today?’

  Dan’s shrug reminded Maggie of Noah when he evaded one of her enquiries.

  Maggie knew that Charlie and his boys had been like oil and water. Dan ran away plenty of times as a kid, but always went home, leaving behind him a trail of destruction: vandalism, graffiti. Time could settle old rifts, though, couldn’t it?

  ‘I know the old bastard’s still around. I’m getting regular statements for the mobile phone I sent him a few years back. Tracy will make sure I don’t leave without trying to see him. I stopped by the property on our way into town this afternoon. The place looks like crap. I left a note and my mobile number. Told him I wanted to come out again in the morning.’

  ‘I hope he calls,’ Maggie said. ‘You both need to get re-acquainted. You should. I know what it’s like to lose a father.’

  ‘Oh, sorry, I didn’t know.’

  ‘Dementia,’ she corrected his assumption. ‘I came back home when I found out. All a bit too late really. Even though we’d talked over the phone often, he never let on, never complained. Ethne called me when it happened. Some sort of mini stroke. He recovered, but it fast-tracked his decline. By the time Noah and I got ourselves organised and out here …’ By the time I’d done trying to reason with a selfish husband. ‘Dad wasn’t the same person.’

  ‘That just doesn’t compute. Your dad was as tough as they come.’

  ‘That’s what he let people see. He wasn’t though, and especially after …’ Maggie stopped herself. She didn’t want to go there. She didn’t want to remember what she knew she could never forget; how a stupid stunt had ripped Michael from their lives and changed her world. ‘Strange how he could counsel and comfort others in need, but not his own daughter. When I needed him the most, his grief kept him distant. I remember being so angry and confused when they blamed you. Then you all but disappeared. I never saw you.’ Maggie stopped short of mentioning how she’d found the solace she craved in the young musician called Brian.

  ‘I didn’t get much say. At the time I figured it was better to disappear—for you and your dad. I …’ Dan’s hands combed through his hair again in the moonlight, lifting his fringe, and Maggie thought she saw the glimmer of tears. ‘Shit, I didn’t want to go there tonight, Maggie. I’m so sorry. I’m so terribly, terribly sorry.’

  ‘Then let’s not,’ Maggie said, stiffening with resolve, refusing to let herself go there. ‘Dan, we were so young. Things got crazy and out of control. We were kids.’

  But not any more, Maggie reminded herself. Tonight she was very much in control and a glimpse through the hall doors of Tracy among a circle of women half dancing, half talking reminded her.

  ‘Tracy’s looking as gorgeous as ever,’ she said, changing the subject, her gaze avoiding Dan’s.

  ‘Maggie, about Tracy and me … I’m under strict instructions tonight. I did promise her—’

  ‘Yes, oh, of course, definitely, Dan. You’d best hop to it.’ She smiled. What else could she do? ‘A promise is a promise. Just like the promised corsage. We women don’t forget things like that. It’s been great seeing you again. Really great.’

  ‘Sounds like you’re saying goodbye.’

  ‘Yes, I’ll get going, too.’ Maggie lifted her feet one at a time, brushing her soles to wipe away small bits of bitumen and sand.

  ‘Don’t go, Maggie.’ His voice dulled. ‘Let me talk to Tracy and I’ll be right back.’

  Maggie breathed deeply to slow her racing heart, but the breath snagged at the base of her throat and she felt the string of pearls tighten. With no idea what to do or where to look, she fidgeted with her wristwatch.

  ‘Gosh, look at the time! I’ve already been here two hours longer than I planned.’

  Dan looked perplexed. ‘It only started two hours ago.’

  ‘Exactly. I’ve never been good in crowds and I don’t really feel like being part of one any more tonight. I think I am getting a cold.’ She had to make a move before she changed her mind. ‘Besides, I have the breakfast shift at the hotel tomorrow. I’ll just slip away. No one likes a party pooper.’

  ‘You know what happens when one person leaves?’

  Inside the hall the strobe light exaggerated the jerky dance movements of mid-life bones that hadn’t boogied for years. She could’ve laughed, but there wasn’t a laugh left inside her.

  ‘If you think my going will have any effect on this mob, you’re mistaken,’ she said, struggling to slip swollen feet back into the strappy sandals without losing her balance or her dignity. Those bloody balance beam lessons might have come in handy after all. ‘No one will even notice I’m gone.’

  ‘I’ll notice.’ The words floated out on a whisper and the few uncertain seconds that followed seemed more like a thousand.

  ‘Dan …’ Maggie stammered, even though she was rarely lost for words. Her English skills were as good as her maths skills and this was simple maths. Four drinks, multiplied by one old flame, divided by twenty-five years and a marriage. It equalled danger. ‘Dan, I’m going now. It’s been great.’ She kissed his cheek like a finger tests a hot iron. ‘G’nite.’

  Good decision.

  Right decision.

  Only decision.

  24

  Bugger! Bum! Blast!

  Maggie had almost reached the school gate when she felt the first drops of rain and remembered her umbrella. She couldn’t risk leaving that behind.

  Of course she could. The damn umbrella would be there in the morning. As if anyone would steal a lime green promotional brolly with ‘Midori’ printed on every panel. But the thought of a drenching on top of her aching feet on the walk back to the pub was too much.

  With no sign of the spotty-faced attendant at the cloakroom that still smelled remarkably of stale sandwiches and bad banana, Maggie immersed herself in the collection of coats and bags. How the humble cloakroom had changed from its weekday life. Gone were the gumboots, Globite cases and school jumpers. In their place were Sass and Bide, Collette Dinnigan and Hugo Boss. When Maggie emerged, the garish umbrella hooked over one wrist, Dan had reappeared in front of her. She’d almost got away unscathed.

  ‘What are you doing, Dan?’

 
‘Perfect,’ he grinned. ‘I was looking for an umbrella. If you pass it to me I’ll show you my Charlie Chaplin impersonation.’

  ‘Dan!’ If he’d noticed the censure in her voice, it didn’t show in the charismatic smile that lit up his eyes.

  ‘I checked in and Tracy’s still happily holding court. Had trouble getting a word in, actually. And, since I’d lost my dance partner, I decided on a walk along the river. Join me?’ He made a simple stroll sound so harmless. ‘Not a big decision, Maggie. I’m suggesting a walk along Calingarry River, not the Kokoda Trail. It’s been a long time and there’s lots to talk about. Up until a few minutes ago I wasn’t sure … Bloody hell, Maggie, just come for a walk. Good company and conversation and I’ll show you my secret swimming spot. Just say you will.’

  ‘It’s raining.’

  Dan glanced outside. ‘Haven’t you heard the saying? Rain always looks wetter through a window.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You haven’t heard the saying, or no to the walk?’

  ‘No. I mean yes. I mean … my shoes. They’re hard enough to walk in on the pavement.’

  ‘You’ll manage. You’re a problem solver from way back.’

  Maggie was a smart girl, a straight-A student. Rarely had there been a question in class she didn’t know the answer to. But if she was so clever, where did her reply come from?

  ‘Okay.’

  There were only a few light sprinkles of rain as they set out along the footpath, crossing Rivers Edge Road to pick up the track worn by years of foot and bicycle traffic. The cloud cover had shifted, revealing an almost full moon. If you didn’t stray from the path it was a relatively easy stroll, even in high heels, but it would mean staying on her toes—in more ways than one.

  This. Is. Crazy.

  Right now she should be back at the pub, checking up on her son who, as trustworthy as he might be, was at that unpredictable age—no longer a boy and only partway to being a man. At least he’d had Fiona for company. Maggie had half expected the girl to turn up and make trouble tonight. Going back to the pub would ease her mind. She couldn’t be sure of anything while moonlight strolling in fantasyland with Dan Ireland.

  ‘A penny …’ he said.

  ‘I was thinking about Fiona wanting to find her father. She was asking me questions the other day and, well, Amber and I … We weren’t that close—in or out of school. Except those nights she wanted to sneak into the pub; then I was her best friend. If Amber knew back then who the father was, she didn’t tell anyone.’

  ‘Most of us were drunk or stoned that night.’

  ‘Us? You were there?’

  Dan laughed. ‘I was in body, not in brain. Me, Nate and …’ Dan stopped.

  ‘What?’ Maggie said. ‘It’s okay. Tell me. Were you going to say Michael? Was he there that night?’

  ‘Sorry, yeah, Amber was off her face when she and a couple of blokes busted the three of us over there …’ He nodded to a point further along the river bank. ‘Over there, through those trees, used to be the place we smoked joints.’

  ‘You, Nate and Michael smoked joints? I never knew that.’

  ‘That’s because you were a good girl.’

  ‘I didn’t want to be a good girl.’ She pouted.

  ‘And I didn’t want to be the one to corrupt the Rev’s daughter by introducing her to marijuana,’ Dan laughed. ‘Amber Bailey, on the other hand … Amber’s not-so-good reputation was no secret.’

  ‘Do you think it was like her father said?’

  ‘The so-called gang rape?’ Dan sighed. ‘Jack Bailey wanted to stitch up Will Travelli. That’s all those allegations were about. Nobody ever forced Amber Bailey to do anything. From what I heard, she offered it up to just about everyone. Most said she was all tease without much follow-through. I’m not sure how many blokes actually got past first base.’

  ‘You’re certainly more knowledgeable than I thought. Do you know which blokes were with her that night?’ Maggie asked, curious about just how close Dan might have been to knowing the truth.

  ‘You probably don’t want to know, and to be honest I don’t remember much. I was smoking a joint. I finished it and …’ He scratched his head.

  ‘And what?’ Maggie interrogated.

  ‘I don’t recall, Your Honour,’ Dan said, then chuckled. ‘We done with the cross-examination, Madam Prosecutor?’

  ‘I’m shocked, Dan Ireland,’ Maggie laughed. ‘Makes me wonder what else I don’t know about you, not to mention my brother.’

  ‘Let’s keep walking, shall we?’

  They walked in a comfortable silence with Maggie enjoying the heightened sense of awareness. Every noise, every smell, every feeling—sharper, spicier, stronger. The nutty, fresh scent of spring rain still lingered and the gum trees and eucalypts seemed more potent, as if washing away the layer of dust let them breathe.

  Maggie was breathing, only just, her head in a spin over why she was walking in the moonlight with this man, and what was more intoxicating: the champagne, the smell and sounds of a warm evening, or the scent of the man beside her. Only when she stopped walking, too afraid she might never turn around, terrified a clock somewhere might strike midnight and turn her back into plain Maggie, did she realise her fingers had woven themselves between his.

  She opened her mouth to speak. Nothing came out. She tried again, took a small step to put some distance between them and looked back, her eyes searching out the details of his face in the moonlight, wondering what was going on in that beautiful head, behind that perfectly sculpted face, masked by the fine, late evening stubble.

  ‘Dan, this isn’t—’

  He didn’t let her finish, drawing her into him, his hands determined and commanding now on her cheeks, his lips warm and inviting on her mouth. Having him so close felt like the most natural thing in the world. She fell into him, the urgency of their kiss reminiscent of impetuous youth. They were teenagers again. She remembered him walking her home from her Year 10 school dance, walking a slow zigzag, stalling, stumbling, happy.

  ‘Stop!’ Wide-eyed and breathless, she pushed back. ‘I can’t … I … I’m married, Dan.’

  ‘Shit, I’m so sorry, Maggie. So very sorry. I wasn’t thinking.’ Dan raked a hand through the mop of hair and cursed at the ground. Then his head snapped back up and he fixed his stare. ‘That’s not true, actually. You’re all I’ve been thinking about.’ The light in his eyes switched off. ‘You should’ve said something. You didn’t. I called you Maggie Lindeman earlier and you didn’t correct me. I saw your nametag and never thought. I assumed it was just you and Noah.’ He smacked a hand to his forehead. ‘Doh! How stupid am I? Of course you’re still married. Who in their right mind would not want to be with you forever? So, it’s Brian?’

  ‘Of course it’s Brian,’ she snapped, angered at Dan’s shifting the blame, as if she’d deliberately lied about the state of her marriage.

  ‘When you weren’t wearing a ring …’

  The single gold band encrusted with small diamond chips that she’d picked and paid for herself had served as both engagement and wedding ring all these years and she’d never thought to mind. Only due to the constant hand-washing and some weight loss in the last two years had Maggie put the ring in its box for safe keeping.

  ‘I am married,’ she announced, only why did it sound like an apology?

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  His words ate at Maggie. What was he sorry about?

  Sorry for kissing her?

  Sorry she was married?

  Sorry it wasn’t to him?

  ‘I’ve totally messed this up.’ He hung his head, stubbed the toe of his shoe into the ground and shoved both hands into his pockets.

  Poor Dan.

  She could help him out right now, tell him no apology was required, that she had, in fact, enjoyed every sexy second of his mouth on hers, their bodies pressed so close she couldn’t help but feel just how hugely he was enjoying the moment. But that was probably too much truth.r />
  ‘I should’ve asked, Maggie, and I didn’t.’

  ‘So …’ She dared look him in the eyes and hoped she was smiling. Time to engage her funny force field to take the pressure off them both. ‘You should’ve asked me what exactly, Dan? If I was married or if you could kiss me?’

  He breathed a sigh—relief most likely—while studying Maggie’s face, no doubt trying to measure her mood.

  ‘Both?’ he suggested through a rueful smile. ‘Maybe I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to hear you say no. I’ve wanted to kiss you all night, like a silly, love-struck teenager. Tell me I’m an idiot. Then tell me what I need to do for you to forgive me.’ He gripped both hands at the back of his neck as if they didn’t know what else to do, then he paced back and forth, a few tempting feet in front of her. ‘If only you’d mentioned Brian’s name. I would never—’

  ‘Brian doesn’t matter right now, Dan.’ Oh, how she wanted to believe that. ‘And you’re not an idiot, but you are married.’

  ‘I am tonight, yes. It’s just … It’s not quite that simple.’

  ‘Seems simple enough to me. Tracy was my best friend once. You married her.’ Frustration opened the floodgates and twenty-five-year-old tears fell.

  ‘Maggie, listen to me.’ He moved to hold her but Maggie held both hands out in front, her force field firmly in place. ‘I promised Trace that for tonight we’d be the happy married couple we were for sixteen years.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Trace and I have an arrangement—and if you tell her I told you this …’ Dan warned.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Trace has this thing. She wanted us to be married tonight. We still are married, sort of. We’re keeping things together to avoid the whole divorce thing for Em and Mike. Starting high school has been a big enough adjustment. We figured we could stay together for them. It isn’t hard. We still love each other. In a way we—’ He suddenly looked and sounded beaten. ‘I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Too much information.’