“He wasn’t into that sort of thing. My mother used to fill the stockings, I think, and leave them by the fireplace.”
“Were you and your brother close? Is he older or younger?”
“Older. There’re eight years between us.”
“That’s a big age gap.”
“He left home before I ever got to know him.”
“When did your father die?” Rennie asked.
“I was twenty-one. Old enough to cope.”
“What about your brother? Was he here, then, in New Zealand?”
“No, he’d gone to live in Australia when he got married. They came over for the funeral, of course.”
“So you looked after your mother?”
Grant shrugged. “I lived with her until I married. She’s quite independent, but with her heart — “
“It was bad, even then?”
“We knew she had a problem, yes.”
It must have been a responsibility, at twenty-one. “I thought you’d have been the eldest. I’d always imagined you being like Toby as a child,” she said.
Grant looked quizzical. “With his tendency to bossiness, I imagine,” he said dryly. “Believe me, I never got the chance.”
“Did your brother bully you?”
He shook his head. “Nobody bullied anybody. We were — too civilised for that. Never a raised voice in the house.”
“Never?” Rennie queried disbelievingly.
“I don’t believe my parents ever had a row in their lives.”
“They were that close?”
He laughed rather harshly. “Actually, I’m not sure they even liked each other very much. I never saw them deliberately touch. I wasn’t even sure they liked me, but my father was at least proud of my brother. They were alike in looks and temperament. One son was enough for my father. I was an afterthought, probably a mistake.” He gave a wry, self-mocking smile. “I used to fantasise that my father — wasn’t, really. But I can’t imagine my mother having an illicit affair. And her grief when he died surprised me. So maybe I got it all wrong. She’s never spoken of her feelings for him. But in spite of that, I believe she’s been happier since he died. I’d hoped — “
He stopped abruptly, and Rennie said, “What did you hope?”
“That I’d do better in my own marriage, I suppose. Better by my children.”
“You are doing that,” she assured him, “for the children.” She dared not comment on his marriage. But his love for Toby and Ellen was patent.
“You haven’t opened your present,” she reminded him.
He smiled. “No, I haven’t. You didn’t need to buy me anything.”
“I know I didn’t need to. I wanted to.”
He took it from his pocket and carefully stripped off the paper, revealing an audiotape in its plastic case and a long, narrow box. He glanced up at Rennie, opened the box and took out the silver ballpoint pen.
“How did you know I needed one?”
“I remembered you hunting one day for a pen, and mentioning that you’d had a silver one but lost it somewhere recently.”
“It’s very kind of you, Rennie.” He replaced it in its box and put it back in his pocket. Then he turned over the tape in his hand and looked up into her slightly anxious eyes.
“You said you liked the album I played for you. This is their latest.”
He smiled. “Well, thank you!”
“You weren’t just being polite? Be honest!”
“No I wasn’t. Cross my heart,” he promised. “I’ll look forward to listening to it.” He tossed it lightly in his hand. “Have you opened your present?”
“No. Stay here, I’ll fetch it.”
She slipped into the kitchen where she had left it when the dishes were done, catching a glimpse of Toby and another boy making their way toward the tree hut, each with something hugged to his chest.
“Toby’s made a friend,” she reported to Grant as she returned to the bedroom. “I think they’re smuggling some giant-size bottles of pop out to the tree hut.”
“I hope he doesn’t make himself sick,” Grant commented as she began peeling tape off the parcel. “What was it? Orange?”
“I couldn’t see. Don’t worry, they can’t drink a whole 2 litre bottle each. Their eyes are bigger than their tummies. Oh, Grant, this is lovely!”
The bracelet was silver and enamel, subtly coloured in greens and golds. She had to look closely to see that the pattern was made up of tiny butterflies and flowers.
“Put it on,” he said. “I hope it fits.”
“It will.” She slipped it over her hand and held up her slim wrist for him to see. “It’s beautiful, thank you!”
She turned to him just as his eyes moved from her wrist to her face. He was quite close, and it seemed natural to put her hands on his shoulders and kiss him lightly.
His hands clamped on her waist as her lips left his. For a second they stood like that, her head tipped back, her eyes widening as she read the sudden blaze in his. Then he pulled her roughly against him and covered her parted lips with his mouth.
Rennie’s arms slipped about his neck and she kissed him back, her body curving into his, her blood singing. One of his arms was about her waist, while the other hand roved over her back, shaped her hip, slid up her spine and finally buried itself in her hair, holding her as he coaxed her mouth wider and insistently explored it. There were stars wheeling behind her closed eyes, points of light dancing through her entire body. She went on her toes, arching herself closer still, and felt him bend over her, wanting the same thing…
She could hardly bear it when he suddenly relinquished her mouth and moved away from her, only keeping a steadying hand on her waist.
His face was flushed, as she knew hers was, but while she watched him with dazed eyes, he paled. “I’m sorry, Rennie,” he said, and wiped his hand over his mouth as though he was embarrassed. “And I don’t even have the excuse of mistletoe.”
“Why be sorry?” she demanded. “I didn’t mind. You must have noticed.”
“Yes, but I have no right — I should — “
Rennie impatiently put her fingers over his mouth. “Don’t say that,” she ordered. “And don’t be sorry. It’s Christmas. I won’t let you say anything to spoil it. We needn’t talk about it now.”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Yes, you’re right. But I think we should go back to the others.”
She smiled at him almost as she would have smiled at Toby or Ellen. “All right,” she said. “If that’s what you think best.”
It was some time later that a series of high-pitched giggles from outside penetrated to the house. Marian looked out the window and said, “Toby and Alan are having a great time out there. Oops! Toby nearly missed the ladder, but he’s okay.”
As she turned back into the room, Grant got up idly and went to the window. He smiled, then began to frown, and after a few seconds abruptly swung round and went striding toward the door.
Rennie broke off her conversation with one of her brother’s friends who had called in after lunch, and hurried after him. By the time she got outside, he was racing across the lawn.
Toby was lying on the grass a few yards from the tree hut, while Alan regarded him owlishly from a perch on the ladder.
“Did he fall?” Rennie gasped as she joined Grant, who was feeling Toby’s forehead. The boy’s eyes were open, but looked peculiarly unfocused, and he was very flushed.
“No. Yes,” Grant said. “He got down the ladder and started walking, but he walked very oddly — and then he just fell over. How do you feel, son?” he asked Toby.
The little boy blinked and said, “F-f-funny.”
“What kind of funny?” Rennie asked anxiously.
“Jusht funny,” Toby said, and giggled.
“I feel funny, too,” his young friend announced. “Can you help me get down?” he added plaintively.
“You’re big enough to get down on your own,” Grant said, barely throwing him a glance. “Toby, do you
hurt anywhere?”
Toby’s head slowly moved from side to side.
“Well, can you get up, then?” Grant put his hand under his son’s shoulders and brought him to his feet. “Okay?”
Toby nodded his head and suddenly clutched at Grant’s sleeve. “Daddy, I c-can’t walk.”
Grant went totally white. Rennie darted from his side, just in time to catch Alan, who missed the last few rungs of the ladder and collapsed against her as she broke his fall.
“Both of them?” Grant said, turning a stunned and desperately worried face to her.
“Apparently,” Rennie agreed. She set Alan on his feet, and he subsided immediately to a sitting position on the ground, grinning foolishly at her. “Just a minute,” she told Grant, and grasped the ladder, quickly ascending it to disappear into the tree hut.
“Rennie, we haven’t time to — ” he shouted at her, gathering Toby up in his arms.
But she had already reappeared in the doorway. “Look,” she called to him.
He looked at the two bottles she held, both of them half empty, and the colour slowly returned to his face. “Not pop,” he said. “Wine. Champagne-style, no less. The little devils!”
“Yes,” Rennie said, grinning. “Aren’t they? Thoroughly drunk little devils!”
“Daddy?” Toby said. “Are you angry?”
Grant hastily wiped an answering grin from his face. He put Toby carefully on his swaying feet, holding his shoulders and squatting to his level. “I told you the wine was for the grown-ups, didn’t I?”
Toby nodded. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Grant said, “I’m not surprised. Too much alcohol is bad for people, especially children. Now you know why I didn’t want you to have it.”
Toby nodded vigorously, and then threw up. Grant moved his feet in their polished shoes out of the way just in time and held his son’s head until it was over. Alan looked on with interest, and shortly afterward followed suit.
“I’d better tell his parents,” Rennie said. “Come on, my lad.”
“Do we have to tell?” Alan whined, reluctantly accepting her guiding hand, as Grant wiped Toby’s mouth with a handkerchief.
“Yes, because you might be sick again, and they need to know why.”
“I won’t be sick again,” Alan declared, and promptly proved himself wrong.
By the time he was finished, his mother had come flying out of the house, and Rennie explained what had happened.
“I don’t think they’ve had enough for it to be dangerous,” she said. “But you’d better watch him, in case.”
“Thank goodness it was nothing worse,” the woman said. “And thanks for looking after him. We’d better take him home. Do you mind holding the fort while I round up the rest of the family? Now, Alan, you stay here a minute. I don’t want you messing up Auntie Marian’s carpets. Honestly, I can’t take you anywhere!”
She was back in a few minutes, as Grant and Toby joined Rennie. “I’m sorry if my son led your boy into mischief,” she told Grant. “I thought my husband was keeping an eye on him. You can’t leave him alone for a minute!”
“Not at all,” Grant assured her. “In fact, I’m grateful.”
His eyes met Rennie’s in a look of pure understanding as the harassed mother stared in complete noncomprehension.
“It’s a long story,” Rennie said, taking pity on her. “But sometimes a total lack of mischief can worry parents, too.”
“Oh, yes?” the woman said in polite disbelief. “Tell me about it!” But she didn’t wait for an explanation, ushering her erring son before her round to the front of the house.
“We’d better be going, too,” Grant said, as he and a pale, subdued Toby joined Rennie. “I’ll take Toby out to the car now, and come back for Ellen.”
Rennie wanted to offer to come with them, but knew he wouldn’t let her. He had vetoed her suggestion that she should look after the children while he took his mother out for her customary Christmas dinner. Mrs Morrison understood, he told her, that he had to be with the children. And Rennie should spend Christmas with her parents.
“Shane tells me you’ve both been invited to a party tomorrow night,” he added. “You didn’t mention it.”
“I don’t care if I don’t go.”
“You haven’t had much social life since you’ve been working for me. Go to your party and enjoy yourself. And you needn’t come back the day after. I don’t have to go to the office until after New Year. We can cope.”
“I know Ellen’s much more independent of me than she was, but don’t you think ten days is too long a break, so soon?”
“Your family must be missing you, and I’m well aware that you’ve seen almost nothing of your friends lately.”
“I think,” she told him roundly, “that this sudden change of plan is for another reason entirely.”
He looked away from her, his gaze absently resting on the house behind her, then returning to her face. There was a bleakness in his eyes that made her want to put her arms around him, but at the same time warned her off. He said quietly, “Don’t push it, Rennie.”
“All right,” she said as he turned away. “But promise me one thing.”
Reluctantly, he turned to face her again, his expression impatient.
“Promise,” she said, “that you’ll call me if Ellen’s fretting. Or Toby.”
He nodded. “Yes. Yes, the children must come first. Don’t worry, I will.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Grant called three days after Christmas.
“Ellen?” Rennie queried. “Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Beginning to miss you but she isn’t fussing about it. Something’s come up, though.”
“What?” Rennie asked sharply.
“It’s okay. Nothing bad. A friend of my mother’s has a beach house in Northland. It was booked for the holidays, of course, but the family that was supposed to have it for five days over New Year has cancelled. My mother suggested that we take it — it’s a big house and there’s a downstairs room with its own bathroom where she could be away from the children. And three bedrooms upstairs, one with bunks.”
“It sounds ideal.”
“Yes. I’d like to get away from here for a few days. Also it’s a chance to wean the children away from this place. Make it a bit easier for me to move them to another house later on. And they’re dead keen.”
“Ellen is?”
“Yes, even Ellen is.” He paused. “On condition that you come with us.”
“Of course I’ll come,” Rennie said immediately. “If that’s what you’re asking me.”
“Yes, I am. Um — my mother thinks you should come, too. I don’t think she trusts my expertise with children, she’s afraid that she’ll have to look after them if there isn’t another female on the premises.”
“She won’t have to do a thing,” Rennie promised. “Tell her I’ll take care of everything.”
She danced toward her room, hugging herself. Marian, coming out of the kitchen, smiled at her with raised brows. “Good news?”
“Great news!” Rennie told her. “We’re having a holiday by the beach — Grant and the children and me. Oh, and his mother. We leave tomorrow morning.”
“You’ll be well chaperoned, by the sound of it,” Marian commented.
“Yes, I will.” Rennie laughed. “I expect that’s why he didn’t mind asking me. I guess his mother’s supposed to protect him.”
“Rennie!” Marian followed her into the bedroom. “What are you up to?”
Rennie sat down on the dressing table stool, smiling. “Nothing,” she said innocently. “But I think I may be in love!”
Marian came over and put a hand on her shoulder. “Rennie, darling,” she said gently. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
“Yes. Well, maybe not entirely. I’ve never felt quite like this before. But oh, isn’t it great?” She turned and put her arms about Marian’s waist.
Looking down at h
er, Marian stroked her hair. “Yes,” she said. “Of course it is. Only remember what I said about not rushing into anything. Do you know how Grant feels about things?”
“He thinks he’s too old for me.”
“He could be right, you know. He’d be closer to my age than yours.”
Rennie lifted her head. “What does that matter? I don’t care!”
“No, darling, but maybe he does. It might not be just that he’s too old for you. Perhaps he also feels that you’re too young for him.”
Rennie’s eyes clouded. “Not when he kisses me,” she said defiantly.
“Has he kissed you often?”
Rennie shook her head. “He thinks he shouldn’t. But when he does, I know how he feels.”
Her mother said, “I know it isn’t fashionable to say so, but men are different from us, Rennie. Whether it’s biological or cultural isn’t really an issue here. They can make love where they don’t love much more easily than most women. And if you force or manipulate Grant into that situation, you could be doing yourself more harm than good. You do understand what I’m saying?”
“Yes.” Rennie sighed. “I hear you. But it doesn’t make any difference to my feelings.”
“I know. Just think about what you’re doing though, before you do it, hmm? You’ve got an excellent mind under that flaming hair, in very good working order. It doesn’t have to go into neutral every time your emotions are engaged.”
Ellen came running to meet her when she arrived, with Toby not far behind. Putting Ellen down, she held her arms out for the boy. “Am I allowed a hug today?”
He smiled and flung his arms about her, mussing her hair. Grant came out of the lounge and stood in the doorway. She felt unaccountably shy with him, and fussed over the children to hide it. “It’s nice to have you back,” he said, standing aside as they pulled her into the lounge.
“It’s nice to be back.” She looked at him and wanted to go on looking, and he too seemed to be having trouble dragging his gaze from hers, seemed to be drinking in the sight of her as though he couldn’t get enough of it. But Toby and Ellen were talking, and she smiled down at them, scarcely hearing what they said.
“Hey, calm down, you two!” Grant ordered. “You’ll give Rennie a headache, both talking at once.”
The Older Man Page 12
