Wish List: City Love 4

by Belinda Williams

  “You’re wet.”

  “I hadn’t noticed.”

  His response to my smart reply was to slip a finger into me. I closed around him, warm and tight. I moaned, resting my head on the back of the door.

  “Jesus, Cate.” His voice was husky. Then his mouth was on me and I reached out blindly and grabbed his shoulders or else I would have fallen over.

  His other hand slipped around to cup my backside. He pressed his face into me, until I was worried he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

  “Dave.”

  He didn’t reply, he just kept going and going so that I was spiraling upwards, upwards, writhing above him in pleasure. Then he slipped another finger inside me until he filled me and I couldn’t escape him. I gripped the fabric of his suit tightly and couldn’t seem to catch my breath. That was OK, I’d die happy.

  “Oh,” I sobbed, trying hard to stay quiet. “Too much.”

  No, actually, I wasn’t dying. I was flying. Soon I’d be soaring if he had anything to do with it, but before I could get any higher, my world exploded in a burst of color. I clenched tight around him and used all the strength in my arms – which felt like jelly – to hold onto him. Somehow I held myself up while the hot release spread from my core to the tips of my fingers and toes.

  With one last sob I slid down the door and into his arms.

  “Hey.” He pulled me into an embrace and I rested my head on his shoulder.

  “Mmpf.”

  His body vibrated beneath me with his laughter.

  “You’re pretty happy with yourself, aren’t you?” I mumbled.

  “I’m always happy when I’m with you,” he said into my ear.

  The meaning of his words cut through my post-orgasmic fog and I lifted my head to look at him.

  “Really?”

  He smiled and shook his head at me. “Really, Cate. Why do you seem so surprised?”

  I put my head back on his shoulder. “I don’t know. You keep your feelings close to your chest, I guess.”

  “I punched a guy tonight,” I heard him say in disbelief. “I wouldn’t call that keeping my feelings close to my chest.”

  I grinned into his shoulder. I shouldn’t be so happy about it, but I was. “I’m not advocating violence, but I do appreciate it.”

  I felt him laugh. “Glad I didn’t ruin your friend’s wedding for nothing.”

  I shifted so I could look at him properly. “You didn’t. They like you.”

  “Before I punched a groomsman.”

  He had a point, but I also knew my friends. “Are you really going to leave tonight? James is driving Layla.”

  He tensed and swore. “I forgot about that.”

  “We’ll figure something out.”

  He pressed his forehead against mine. “That’s my silver lining girl, hey?”

  “That’s me.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was talking about my positive attitude or the fact that I was his girl.

  *

  I managed to convince Dave to return to the party and tried my hardest not to think about what we’d just done in the bedroom or else my face would have been bright red.

  To my friend’s credit, they were all welcoming and if I appeared awkward they assumed it was because of the earlier scene with James. Max even came over and apologized.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong,” Max said to Dave. “If I had a guy swinging at me I would have defended myself too.”

  Dave nodded. “Still. I should have walked away and I didn’t. If you need me to go tonight, I can.”

  “Don’t be stupid. James will leave you alone for the rest of the night, and I think you’ll find he’ll be more civil in the morning. He had a nasty break up before he arrived from the UK,” Max explained. “I think this has stirred some of that up, that’s all.”

  I gave Max a questioning look. “He told me the break up was mutual.”

  Max winced. “Because his girlfriend cheated on him.”

  “Oh, Max. I’m so sorry,” I said. James hadn’t been as open with me as I’d thought, although I had a feeling it had more to do with his pride than him being a liar.

  Max nodded. “Leave him alone tonight, but maybe have a chat to him in the morning. I think he’d like to apologize.”

  “Cate! There you are.” Max’s mother, Julia, walked toward us with my phone in one hand. She passed it to me. “It’s been ringing and ringing. I heard it when I went to the bathroom and picked it up. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course not. Thank you.” I smiled and took it from her. Usually I kept it with me but I’d left it in my room all afternoon. My smile disappeared when I recognized the number. I felt all the blood leave my face.

  “Cate?” I barely heard Dave’s concerned voice as I stared at the phone.

  Four missed calls and two messages. Oh my God. Something must be wrong.

  I didn’t bother to listen to the message and instead hit ‘call.’

  “Cate—”

  “Heath! Oh my God, I’m so sorry. It’s Christa and Max’s wedding today and I left the phone in my room. Are the girls OK? Please tell me the girls are OK?”

  “The girls are fine.” Heath’s familiar voice was firm and reassuring.

  “Oh thank God,” I said, then sucked in my breath. “Susie? What about Susie? Is she OK?”

  “Fine, Cate. We’re all fine. I’m ringing about Dad.”

  I stiffened and gripped the phone tighter. “Oh.”

  I heard Heath sigh. “He’s dying, Cate. He’s just been taken to hospital. We’re told it could be any day now.”

  Chapter 29

  Dave offered to take me home early. The next morning we left James sleeping off his hangover, asking Max to explain that Paul would drive the Mini home. James would most likely still have a hangover and if I were Dave I wouldn’t trust James with my prized Mini after last night anyway.

  Sleep would have been nice. I’d barely gotten any last night on account of the news of my father and the fact that Dave was in the room next to me. It was strange. I was used to being single but the bed suddenly felt empty. Even if I’d been in the mood to pick up with Dave where we’d left off, there was no way I could have. Anxiety stirred in my stomach all night until it felt like a hard, twisted mass of dread.

  I was going home.

  It hadn’t been a conscious decision, but I accepted that was what I was doing. And now all the fears and memories were clawing their way back into my mind like some sort of wild beast awakening from hibernation.

  “You should try to get some sleep,” Dave suggested after about an hour into the drive.

  We hadn’t spoken much on the ride back up the coast. It was another thing I liked about Dave that had surprised me. I thought I’d want someone as talkative as me, but Dave seemed to sense when to keep silent – a skill I was yet to master.

  I shrugged. “Closing my eyes isn’t ideal right now.”

  He glanced over at me, then back to the road. “I’m sorry. What’s your plan when we get back to Sydney?”

  “Get in Christa’s car and drive.”

  “How far is it?”

  “About three and a half hours north of Sydney.”

  “I’ll drive you.”

  The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, made me pause.

  “What?” he asked.

  “No,” I said firmly, recovering my voice. “You can’t do that.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  “No, you can’t,” I persisted.

  “Why not?”

  I fell silent, at a loss for words for a change.

  “Cate?” Dave asked eventually.

  “Because I don’t even want to go back there,” I said in a small voice.

  “Then why are you?”

  I let out a brittle laugh. “Because I’m a good girl.”

  Dave didn’t say anything. Instead, he reached over and rested his hand on my thigh. I closed my eyes at the warm comfort of it, enjoying the little thrill that shot through my
body. It was the first time since I’d spoken to Heath that I’d been able to close my eyes and not have memories assault me. It gave me the strength to clear my throat and I twisted to face him.

  “My father was a truck driver. He was involved in an accident before I was born which meant he wasn’t able to work again. We grew up surviving on government support and handouts.”

  I waited for my words to sink in and when all Dave did was nod, keeping his eyes on the road, I took that as my cue to continue. “My mother died when I was four years old. She was drunk and hit a tree.”

  Dave squeezed my leg and I put my hand on top of his, my family history tumbling out of me like a confession. “My father is a very bitter man. He wasn’t an alcoholic, but he drank a lot and when he did, he was a mean drunk. I used to think he hated me because I looked like Mum. I used to think they all hated me except for Heath.”

  “All?”

  I nodded. “As well as Heath, I have another older brother, Blake, and older twin sisters.”

  “I’m not sure I understand, Cate. Why would they hate you?”

  “Because I wasn’t like them. I did really well at school and I wanted to make something of my life. I think they knew I was going to get out. To leave them. I’m not sure if it was jealousy or simply hatred for being different. I haven’t spoken to any of them since I left.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “It’s been thirteen years. That’s why I don’t want to go to the funeral,” I said flatly.

  Dave slipped his hand from beneath mine to change gears. It might have been my imagination but it looked like he was gripping the steering wheel more tightly. “You said your dad was a mean drunk. What does that mean?”

  Stupid bitch. You think you’re so smart, don’t you? You’re not smart. You’re useless, that’s what you are.

  I looked down at my hands resting in my lap, using every bit of strength I had to push the voice back to the past. “He never hurt me,” I said, when I could speak. “At least not physically. I guess you could say he has a way with words.”

  Dave frowned. “Why the hell are you going back, Cate?”

  I shrugged, resigned. “I don’t really know. I just feel it’s something I have to do.”

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  I didn’t argue.

  *

  After stopping at my apartment in Sydney to collect a change of clothes, we dropped Sally off at Dave’s place and swapped her for the ute.

  To my surprise, I’d actually dozed off during the drive out of the city. I didn’t wake again until we were past Newcastle almost two hours north of Sydney. It took us another couple of hours to reach my hometown of Taree. The closer we got, the quieter and more anxious I became.

  When we pulled off the Pacific Highway to take the road that led into the center of town, I felt physically ill. The familiar warning signs were there: tight chest, difficulty breathing, restlessness, and shaky hands. My heart was pumping so hard I could practically hear the rush of blood in my ears.

  Dave slowed the car. Perhaps it was because of his experience with Lauren, or because I was as white as a sheet. “Cate. Tell me what to do.”

  “Keep driving,” I ordered. “I’ve got this. I’ll be OK.” I forced my lungs to expel the air I was holding. I attempted to slow my breathing until I was controlling it, not the other way around. Breathing exercises were one of the things I’d discovered worked best for managing anxiety. They calmed my body and slowed the burst of adrenaline infiltrating my system.

  By the time we reached the old steel bridge that would take us across the Manning River into the center of town, my breathing was more normal. Feeling detached, I watched our surroundings. Everything was exactly as I remembered. A single lane either way, Martin Bridge was beat up and weathered, nothing like the magnificent arches of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. The last time I crossed it, Heath had been driving me to Sydney to start my new life.

  “Where to?”

  Taree wasn’t a small town, but it wasn’t big either. I directed Dave straight ahead and in under five minutes we’d parked in the street opposite the low rise hospital building.

  “Can you wait for me in the car?” I asked.

  “You don’t want to wait until your brother arrives tonight?”

  I shook my head. Heath was flying in from Brisbane around dinnertime. “I want to see him by myself.”

  Dave nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  As I got unsteadily out of the car and walked to the hospital entrance, I reflected on the turn of events. My past was something I kept locked pretty tight. Not because I was ashamed of it, but because I’d been through the painful process of dealing with it and moving on. Having Dave here with me was both strange and reassuring. His presence reminded me of my life in Sydney and the person I was now.

  After speaking to the woman at hospital reception I made my way up to level three. When I arrived outside my father’s door, I knocked briefly and marched in, not giving myself the chance to reconsider.

  I faltered several steps into the room.

  Haggard didn’t even begin to describe the man lying on the bed. It was my dad, but I barely recognized him. His skin looked so parched it was as if the life was literally being sucked out of him. The hard lines of his face were deeper than I remembered. Time had twisted his features into an angry, ugly mask devoid of any softness – not that I recalled there had ever been much anyway. He used to be a bigger man, broad shouldered and burly, rumbling around the house like thunder. Now he was so skinny it looked as if he was wasting away.

  He shifted groggily in the bed and his dark eyes went wide when they saw me. Shock flickered across his face, brightening his features for a second, and then his face returned to the hard mask. He looked away.

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” he asked in a rasping whisper.

  I forced my legs to move and pulled out a chair to sit by his bed. “I came to see you.”

  “Why the fuck would you want to do that?” The effort of speaking proved too much and he doubled over, coughing so violently I considered calling the nurse.

  I stood up and moved toward him, but he waved a feeble hand at me.

  “Sit down.”

  Even this close to death I was wary of him so I did as instructed. He reached over, his arm shaking, to grab a bowl from the nearby tray table. He spat into it, and I saw more blood than anything else. “Why?” he demanded in a whisper.

  “I didn’t want to go to your funeral,” I said honestly.

  His beady eyes appeared to pop out of their sockets, and then he grinned, transforming his mouth into a mean slit. “That’s my girl.”

  I swallowed my revulsion and tried to keep my face neutral. “Heath will be here later tonight.”

  My father nodded once. “He told you.”

  “He did.”

  Silence fell over us and it was an empty sound. He looked away and I stared at my feet. What had I expected? A connection? Some sort of closure? Or maybe this was exactly what I’d expected: nothing at all. I’d just wanted confirmation.

  “What do you do?” His words were so faint I barely heard them.

  I looked back at him to see undisguised interest pressing down hard on his brow.

  “I trained as an accountant, but I work as a financial planner.”

  He blinked. “Married? Kids?”

  I shook my head.

  “Shame. You’d make a better mum than your sisters.”

  I gripped the edge of the visitor’s chair in surprise. It wouldn’t be hard to be a better mother than my sisters, but the fact that he thought it was unexpected.

  “Caty?”

  I waited for him to speak.

  “Go home.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  I stood up slowly, the plastic chair scraping on the linoleum, my legs shaking slightly. I turned away from him to put the visitor’s chair back but it was also to hide the sting of tears.
I stared hard at the cream wall, not sure whether to simply walk out or to say goodbye, because it would be last time I’d ever see him.

  “You don’t belong here,” I heard.

  I turned around, not caring anymore about the tears in my eyes.

  “You’ve never belonged here,” he said more clearly. “Do you hear me?”

  I closed my eyes and heard his voice, stronger and booming, from another time.

  You think you’re better than us, don’t you? Well, you’re not. You’re weak and stupid. You’ll end up just like your mother, dead before you’re thirty because you were stupid enough to think life would be better than this.

  I opened my eyes, a surge of pride and determination stiffening my spine. “You’re right, Dad. I don’t belong here.”

  Then he said the last thing I expected. “I punished you for it. I’m paying my dues now. Go, Caty. Leave me to die. Go live your life.”

  Chapter 30

  I stumbled along the hallways of the hospital building. I could barely see through the tears filling my eyes. The clinical white walls and floors floated before me, like I’d entered some sort of strange underwater dream.

  It was funny how all the years could be ripped away in an instant. It was like an old wound you thought had healed breaking open and gushing blood. Lots of blood. That rich, deep red held all the memories and they flooded through me now, painful and real. So very, very real.

  Somewhere a part of me understood the pain wouldn’t last. I’d done the hard work coming to terms with my childhood. I had a life I loved waiting for me back in Sydney. I just had to be patient and wait until the bleeding stopped. Then the wound would heal over again.

  When I stepped outside, I faltered in the bright afternoon sunlight. I grabbed onto the handrail and let out a hiccuping sob.

  “Cate?”

  Through my tears I saw him. Leaning against the ute like it was the most natural place for him to be. Solid chest, strong forearms, golden hair shining in the sun.

  I covered my face with my hands, embarrassed but unable to stop the flow of tears.