Mr. Imperfect

by Karina Bliss

  She should eat but she was too tired. She should nap, except every time she closed her eyes she was back in Waterview, hiding when Marion called, “Where are you? I need you!”

  Wearily she sat at the round Formica table and tried to think of a way around this latest dilemma. The fact that Marion would choose her over Sally only exacerbated her guilt.

  You let go. You let go. You let go.

  Why hadn’t she held on? Over and over, Kezia replayed the accident with its new ending. Herself, holding on.

  She ached to confess the whole thing to Marion and be vilified, as she deserved. But Marion had enough to bear right now without Kezia’s remorse.

  The habit of routine saved her from the circular madness of what-ifs. John Jason was napping. It was time for Roland the Rat to write his daily letter. Getting up, she went into the bedroom and opened her suitcase, found a pen and the colored paper hidden among her clothes. Back at the table she started to write.

  Dear John Jason, please don’t hate me. Kezia took a deep breath, screwed up the paper and reached for a fresh sheet. Dear John Jason, today Bernice May gave me a very nice piece of cheese for my breakfast. I know you’re still cross with Auntie Kezia for keeping me away from your mummy when she fell, but—

  Bang, bang, bang. Marion was at the door, desperate for shelter. Kezia tried to get up and answer it, but she couldn’t. She sat imprisoned in the chair, caught in a spider’s web.

  Bang, bang, bang. Frantically, Kezia struggled to free herself, opened her mouth to scream. This time she had to answer. Had to. Sticky fly-filled web choked her off. The spider was near—poised, ready to spring and devour—she could sense it.

  She woke with a strangled cry as John Jason clambered onto her lap, his dislike forgotten with the advent of a new terror. “Someone’s at the door.”

  She heard the knock again, even more urgent. Heart hammering, Kezia got up and staggered to the door, John Jason clinging like a sleep-dazed limpet. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

  At the door she tried to put him down to free up her good hand, but he hung on tighter. “What if it’s the bogeyman?” His confidence had been another casualty of the accident.

  “It’s not the bogeyman.” Kezia tried to sound calm. She struggled with the doorknob, telling herself not to panic. Like John Jason, she was now conditioned to expect disaster. The door swung open. The bogeyman stood there, gorgeous and unobtainable.

  “What do you want?” she choked out past the lump in her throat.

  Christian took a deep breath. “I’m here to be your better man.”

  She slammed the door in his face.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NO ONE SAID this would be easy, Kelly. You can only put yourself in the firing line and take the bullets. Squaring his shoulders, Christian knocked again.

  There was a sharp murmur of voices, a fumble at the door then it swung open a second time. Beaming, John Jason flung his arms around Christian’s knees and held on tight. “I told her we need a daddy to keep away the bogeyman.” Anxiety settled on the small upturned face. “You will, won’t you?” Behind him, Kezia cradled a bright pink arm cast, holding it across her body like a shield.

  Christian picked up the child and hugged him. “But John Jason, you’re the scariest dude I know,” he said. It was true. This kid toppled his defenses as if they were a toy fort. “And what about Batman?”

  “I left my cape at home. She bought me a new one. I don’t like it.” The child turned his head to scowl at Kezia. Hurt flared in her eyes, quickly doused. There were undercurrents here Christian didn’t understand, and she looked so damn sad and fragile he could hardly stand it.

  “Can I come in? Please?”

  She lifted her chin. “I expect you’ve come about the hotel money I’ve been spending on hospital bills. Settlement on my land is next week, then I’ll pay you back.” He didn’t answer, just looked at her steadily until she blushed and stepped back. “Okay, a few minutes.”

  John Jason turned an ebullient face to his. “You can even have some of my Coke.”

  “Thanks, buddy, you keep it. I’ll take a coffee, though.” That should buy him more time.

  Carrying the kid, he followed Kezia into the dim interior, noting its shabbiness, the forlorn cleanliness. Dishes were soaking in the sink. He guessed her cast would make washing up laborious. Other than a few childish paintings stuck to the fridge with magnets, the place was impersonal and tidy. Its inhabitants obviously spent little time here.

  Still holding John Jason, he took one of the two orange bucket chairs at the Formica table. Immediately, the child slid off his lap and went to the tiny fridge. Glancing defiantly at Kezia, he took out a can of Coke. Without a word she pulled the tab and filled a glass. John Jason snatched it back.

  “Say thank-you,” Christian reminded him but the boy’s mouth set in a stubborn line. Christian frowned. “John Jason?”

  “Please!”

  “That’s fine.” Kezia turned back to the tiny kitchenette and switched the jug on. “Hey, why don’t you show Christian the car I bought you, the one like his…what’s it called again?”

  God, I love this woman. Christian exchanged a male look with John Jason before the kid scampered off to get his toy. He saw her struggle to unscrew the lid on the coffee jar. “I’ll make that.”

  “I can manage.”

  Ignoring her, he came up behind her, close enough to touch, to torture himself with what might have been. “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.”

  A toy Ferrari tore across the lurid carpet, driven by a heavy hand and some fearsome broom-brooms. Reluctantly, Christian sat. John Jason careered around the Formula One lounge circuit while Christian applauded his driving skill, equally aware of Kezia’s one-handed independence in the kitchen.

  He was in love with a woman who would rather die than accept assistance. To help her, he’d have to submerge his feelings and be tougher than she was pretending to be. John Jason extended his circuit into the bedroom and Christian took advantage of his absence. “What’s the latest on Marion?”

  “She might make a full recovery, she might be left with permanent paralysis. We should know soon.”

  “I want to pay for the best specialists.”

  “You already are.” She shrugged, awkward and defiant. That was one battle he didn’t have to fight.

  He tried to keep the next question neutral, didn’t quite manage it. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “Why would I?” Face averted, she busied herself pouring milk into his coffee, adding one sugar with an unconscious familiarity that made her coldness more painful.

  “It’s not just you I care about!”

  She stopped stirring, stared into the cup. “Then you must feel like I do—guilty as sin.”

  “What the hell has this got to do with you?”

  “If I’d taken the hotel when you offered it, this never would have happened. If I’d been thinking instead of playing mind games with you, I would have got the carpenter back to repair the stairs. Now my best friend might be a cripple!” Her laugh was bitter. “And you wonder why I didn’t call you.”

  Still grappling with this new revelation—of course, it made sense that she would shoulder some of the blame—Christian tried to keep his emotions out of it. “I’m told the banister wasn’t the cause of the accident—”

  “How like you to minimize your share of the responsibility.”

  “—but contributed to Marion’s fall,” he finished, accepting her need for a punching bag. Kezia’s self-worth relied on her success as a safety net for the people she loved, and Marion’s accident represented a devastating failure. “I stopped the repairs, not you, so keep your thieving conscience out of my liability.” That startled her into looking at him. He held her gaze. “You’re not going to carry the can on this one, Kez. I won’t let you.”

  For a fleeting moment he saw the weight lift from her shoulders. “You don’t understand.”

  “So ma
ke me.”

  “She came hunting for me, and I wouldn’t answer. I knew she needed me and I hid.” Her voice caught. “I hid, Christian. She had the accident because I wanted to wallow in self-pity over losing you.” He started to rise; she waved him down. “I forgot duty, loyalty, compassion—pretty much every value I hold dear. Having you around made me selfish.”

  “And now you’re atoning for being human by donning sackcloth and ashes and playing the martyr,” he said, understanding suddenly how her penance would work. In two strides he closed the gap, grasped her shoulders. “Don’t you get it? You’re not punishing yourself for ignoring a friend, you’re punishing yourself for being human and wanting a life.”

  She looked at him as if he were laying out the seven temptations on a picnic blanket. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Oh, I understand too well. I know your parents didn’t bring you up to believe this, but being a good person doesn’t have to mean always stifling your own needs.” Hell, on the basis of his track record why would she listen to him?

  “The coffee’s getting cold.”

  Engine spluttering, John Jason charged back into the lounge and demanded a tire change. “I burned rubber.” Christian took the proffered toy and sat. There was no point in discussing this further anyway. Kezia had clearly retreated behind defense mechanisms that only dynamite could breach.

  Grimly, he shucked off the tires and dropped them onto the table. A sheet of purple writing paper caught his eye. Bringing over his coffee, Kezia caught the direction of his gaze and removed Roland’s letter but Christian had seen enough to fill in the puzzle. “John Jason—” he replaced one tire “—I’d sure like to see that Batman cape your auntie Kez bought you.”

  “I hate it.”

  “I just wondered if it was one of those new magic ones.” In the middle of handing Christian the next tire, John Jason paused to stare at him. “You know about the magic ones, don’t you?” The child shook his head. “Go get it and I’ll check it for you.”

  The boy crawled under the couch, pulled out the offending object and brought it over. Christian examined it, praying for a distinguishing mark. “Ah! See that?” He pointed to the label—Made in Korea—and received an awed nod. “This means it’s a magic cape. Makes its wearer invincible.” John Jason looked blank.

  “That means nothing and no one can ever beat you.” Kezia clarified, and the child’s eyes widened.

  “Then I should give it to Mummy,” he exclaimed.

  For a moment Christian couldn’t answer. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kezia turn away. “It’s really kind of you to think of doing that, but you know, the doctors are using their own magic on her.” He held out the cape. “So what do you say?”

  “I want to put it on.”

  Christian helped him, pulling the shiny black hood over the child’s head, adjusting the oval eyeholes and straightening the crumpled ears. As he tied the shiny ribbons under John Jason’s chubby chin he foresaw a potential problem. “You know, the magic in this cape is so powerful that you should really only wear it some of the time, a few hours. The good thing is, the magic still works when you take it off, say, to have a bath or go to bed.”

  When the cape was secured, Batman stood back, his eyes button-bright behind the mask. “Am I in’cible now?”

  “Invincible? Yep.” Christian nodded seriously. “One more thing about that cape, you have to be nice to whoever gave it to you, otherwise the magic won’t work.”

  Kezia turned back sharply.

  “Oh,” said John Jason. His lower lip pushed out, then his small fingers tugged at the bow.

  Recognizing this was no easy fix, Christian backed off. “That means, saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and using your manners.”

  “Then the magic will work?”

  “It will work,” he promised.

  “Okay.” The child glanced at his godmother. “Thank you for the cape, Auntie Kez.” Spoken grudgingly, it still made her brown eyes glow.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I’m gonna see how I look in the mirror.” Batman disappeared into the bedroom.

  Reluctantly, Kezia’s gaze met Christian’s. “Thank you.” Could he count that as progress? She moved to the door. “I’ll see you out.” Guess not.

  He followed her without protest. “You didn’t ask me how I found out. I went back to Waterview.”

  That surprised her. He watched her eyes widen as she took in his proximity, realize he’d blocked off her escape route. “I came back to try to be that guy you wanted. To see if I could change.” He put his hands on the wall on either side of her body, watched her face pale.

  “Christian, don’t.”

  “When I heard about Marion I knew I didn’t deserve another chance. So I came here to make amends and leave.”

  She made no protest. He’d known she wouldn’t, but her eyes were luminous with regret. Christian leaned forward and kissed her, knowing full well she’d kiss him back if it was intended as a goodbye.

  Not knowing he’d changed his mind.

  Still, he wouldn’t be Christian Kelly if he didn’t take advantage of the last willing kiss she would give him for a while. Her kiss was warm and sweet and sad until he caught her face in his hands and breathed fire into it. She broke free.

  “That was my plan when I came here. Then I find you intending to sacrifice your life to guilt. So I figure I’ll marry you.” Kezia made a strangled sound. Christian paused politely but she couldn’t seem to get any words out. “Because if you’re set on throwing your life away on one error of judgment, then, babe, it’s going to be me.”

  “HI, SOLDIER.” IGNORING THE MEDICAL paraphernalia, Christian laid a hand on Marion’s cheek, and got a wan smile in reply.

  “I was hoping you’d show,” she said. “We need some comic relief. It’s all too mighty serious around here.”

  “Can we be serious just a little longer?” He stood where she could see him without the aid of mirrors. “I’m here to confess. It was my fault the banister wasn’t fixed.”

  “And Kezia’s fault she fell and needed help, and my fault for packing blocks in a flimsy box.” She was obviously weary of the subject. “I don’t see any point in playing the blame game, Christian. Being human is an imperfect business. When I’m better, remind me to slap you around.”

  He felt he’d gotten off too lightly; she sensed it. “It was an accident, a bad hand. From the same deck as your lousy childhood, my broken marriage and the mess Muriel left Kezia. All we can do is make the best of the cards.” Tears trickled down her face. “I haven’t been doing that, but I need to be a survivor now—not a victim.”

  Something shifted inside Christian, something big and important. He took a tissue from the box on the bedside table, gently wiped away her tears, and swallowed a couple of his own. “How can such a wise woman be scared of spiders and not rats?”

  She half laughed, half sighed. “Thanks for giving me another reason not to lie here helpless longer than I need to.”

  Christian scanned the ceiling, declared it spider-free, and pulled up a chair. “Talk to me or nap, it doesn’t matter. I’m company.”

  Over the next hour Marion did both. Through their drifts of conversation, he learned a lot—some of it from what she said. He learned Kezia had been her rock, but Marion was ready to deal with the specialists directly now if her overprotective minder would just back off. He learned that Sally had been stirring the pot; Kezia had taken it off the boil, but Marion was worried about future confrontations. He learned that while Kezia had Marion’s loyalty, she really didn’t want to lose her sister, the only family she had left.

  “How did a man like you get so good in the sickroom?” she wondered sometime in the second hour as he adjusted her mirrors so she could see the jacaranda flowering outside the window.

  “My mother was sick for a long time before she died.”

  “I remember your mother,” said Marion as though his admission was unremar
kable. “She was a nurturer like Kezia but…” Her voice trailed off.

  “But?”

  “These silly painkillers loosen my tongue.”

  “Finish what you were going to say.”

  “But too passive. My mum always said she should have left your father.”

  Christian had never considered that. The beatings had only started after her death but Paul had always been a difficult man—moody, unpredictable. Theirs had never been a happy home. He changed the subject. “I saw John Jason this afternoon. You’ve got a great kid.”

  “I’m worried about him. This is no place for a little boy.”

  Christian agreed with her. “How about if Kez took John Jason home and brought him back weekends to visit?”

  Marion’s eyes lit up, then the worry lines reappeared. “I know Kezia, she’ll see it as banishment. And what about her wrist? She’s managed this past week because she’s had to, but…”

  Suddenly he saw a way forward for all of them and it involved jumping off a cliff. “I’ll go with her, share the child care.”

  “I want to shake my head in disbelief right now but I can’t. Is this where you tell me I’ve been asleep for a hundred years?”

  Christian relayed the highlights of his conversation with Kezia and Marion’s eyes went as wide as saucers. “How did she react to the marriage thing?”

  “I left before the shock wore off.” He grinned. “Let’s just say I’m not expecting her to fall into my arms crying, ‘You’re right, I’m wrong and I really, really love you.’”

  The tissues were called for again. “God, I needed to laugh so badly,” she gasped. “But no running away this time, promise.”

  “No running away this time—except to see you.”

  Her expression grew thoughtful. “You can restart the hotel renovations.”

  “That’s the least of our concerns right now.”

  “You two might not care about the hotel, but I do. I’m still going to need a job when this is over.” She swallowed hard. “If I’m able.”

  Christian touched her where she could feel it, on her shoulder. “You’ll get the best treatment.”