by Karina Bliss
Lee blinked. She knew Dad wanted to bequeath it to her? “You could have said no.”
“I could have. Only your siblings weren’t going to benefit...did Rob tell you?”
“Yeah.”
“And your father left it to me unconditionally.” Her gaze softened, turned inward.
“And ‘unconditionally’ was the magic word?” Again, he was confused.
“Yes.” She added passionately, “And that’s how I’m returning it to you.”
Was anything as sharp as regret? Or as meaningless? “You’re all heart,” he said.
However fond she’d been of Dad, her relationship with him and her acceptance of Lee’s money were predicated on a lie. There was no excuse for that, and wishing for one only made him pathetic.
The doorbell rang again. Jules pivoted. “I’ll go make a sign for the fence, No Media Past This Point. It should stop the harassment until we leave for the doctor’s.”
Organizing him again. “I’m not wasting my first day home on another medical. Today’s therapy is retail. I’ve got a grand in my pocket and we’re going to spend it. I’ll make those calls and then you and I are breaking out of here.”
* * *
ESCAPING THE PRESS proved child’s play. Through the gate in the back fence, down the service alley, cut through the corner of a neighbor’s yard and climb into the cab he’d organized to wait a block away.
Jules was silent on the taxi journey into the city center, no doubt scheming how to steer him toward the doctor’s office. Maybe Lee was still a little queasy but the symptoms were abating, exactly as they should. She didn’t appreciate how accustomed he was to living in a state of discomfort. This was normal.
“I don’t think you should overdo it today,” Jules said. “A couple of hours, tops.”
“My turn on top today, darling,” he reminded her. “You had your turn yesterday.”
“As long as we stop for food,” she said, oblivious to the cab driver’s gaze in the mirror. “You need to eat regularly.”
Whatever outrageous thing Lee said or did in public, she never lost her composure. He’d always liked that about her. The only thing that seemed to unsettle her was... Lee dropped a casual hand on her thigh and felt her tense. “I fancy fries and steak at the Ballymore,” he said. The pub where they’d first met. “They still sell Guinness?”
The contract suggested she felt guilty about her lies. But he needed her guilty enough to confess.
“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to go in there since your death.” She removed his hand from her thigh and squeezed it. “Which makes it the perfect place to celebrate your resurrection.”
The warmth in her smile blindsided him. He managed a weak response then looked out the window at the passing landscape. After a moment, he released her hand and clenched his in his lap. “The city hasn’t changed much.”
Typical of provincial New Zealand, low-rise offices rose from brightly lit, ground-floor retail. Historic hotels presided on major corners not occupied by a gas station. Corporate uniforms of black or navy dotted the crowds of casually dressed shoppers, many already wearing flip-flops in the optimistic thrall of late spring. The sky was a dense blue between flotillas of long white clouds. Easier to watch their shadows drift over the pavement and buildings than acknowledge the feelings her smile provoked.
“Does it make it easier coming home, seeing that nothing’s changed?”
Everything has changed. Lee leaned forward to tap the driver’s shoulder. “Pull over here, mate.” The taxi stopped outside the leisure center Lee used when he visited Whangarei.
Jules frowned. “Lee, no. It’s too soon.”
“Jules, yes.” He gave her a banknote and jumped out of the cab. “Pay the fare, I won’t be long.”
Before she could argue, he’d pushed through the gym’s glass doors and joined the queue. The ceiling vibrated with some fifty bodies jumping in unison. Faintly he heard the music, overlaid with the muffled calls of the instructor. The weight room was at the end of a hall leading off the reception area, glass-walled because the people who came here liked to see and be seen.
Reception was busy. Judging by all the women holding rolled-up mats, a yoga class was about to start. A group blocked his route to the counter. “Excuse me.”
The women’s gazes skated over him; they moved to let him past.
That came as a shock. His looks had attracted female attention since puberty. Lee had taken it for granted. Slightly shaken, he queued behind a couple of jocks signing in at the counter, gym bags slung over shoulders and Y-back tank tops making the most of biceps, trapeziums and deltoids. Lee recognized one. “Hey, buddy.” He tapped JD on the shoulder. “How the hell are you?”
The personal trainer regarded him blankly. “Sorry, mate, give me a clue. I meet so many people.”
He hadn’t changed that much...had he? Lee needed to think about this. “My mistake, I thought you were someone else.”
“No worries.” JD pivoted to face the counter.
A big man joined the line behind Lee, standing too close. The hairs on the back of Lee’s neck rose. “Yo, JD,” the new arrival called. The two began a conversation over Lee’s shoulder and he had to concentrate on remaining calm, shifting position to catch the gust of an overhead fan. The ceiling shook harder under a vigorous dance number, and the muffled beat of the music found an answering throb in his temple.
More women arrived for the yoga class, increasing the volume of chatter. Their perfume mingled with the fresh sweat of the men sandwiching him in. Lee fought the urge to gag. The guy behind him pushed into him, said, “Sorry, mate,” then did a double take. Any second he’d remember where he’d seen Lee’s face.
He had to get out. “Excuse me.... Excuse me.” He shoved past those who didn’t move out of way fast enough.
“Hey!”
Outside he steadied himself against the building and sucked in great gulps of air. He closed his eyes.
“Lee?” Jules’s arm circled his waist, and her fragrance, natural and familiar, anchored him. “Are you okay?”
“Never better.” Loverlike, he slid an arm across her shoulders, hiding the fact that he was using her as support. “But I’ve decided to rent a home gym. Take a low-key approach.”
“You’re pale.”
“Blood sugar’s low. Let’s hit the shops via McD’s. A double chocolate shake will fix it.”
If this had been a real engagement he would have ended it now, let Jules off the hook. No woman should have to deal with the sorry-ass screwup he’d become. He didn’t owe her that consideration so he dropped his arm from her shoulder and grabbed her hand.
On shaky legs, Lee started down the street.
Jules tugged him to a stop. “Maybe we should get you to the doc—”
A horn blasted and he jerked her out of the path of a mobility scooter driven by a dour old man whose sparse gray comb-over glistened with Brylcreem. The stylish black leather jacket encasing his bulky frame added to his geriatric menace.
As the guy passed, Lee’s gaze sharpened. “Wait a minute. That looks like my jacket.”
Jules shaded her eyes to check. “It could be,” she admitted. “When your dad moved to the retirement unit, we donated bags of your clothes to the local thrift store.”
“Yeah, Connie told me but...” That particular jacket was his favorite. “Hey, mate!” Lee hurried to catch up to the scooter. And he’d spent twelve hundred buc
ks on it. “Any chance you’d sell your jacket?”
The old guy didn’t spare him a glance. “You wouldn’t believe how often I get asked that.” His craggy profile was all furrows of slumped flesh. Wiry gray eyebrows added a touch of softness to a prowlike forehead.
Lee walked alongside. “Yeah, well it used to be mine.”
The scooter slowed; pale blue eyes raked over him. “It’s twice your size.”
“I’m growing into it.”
“You’re well past puberty, sonny.” They drew abreast of a zebra crossing. “And if you still wanted it, you shouldn’t have donated it to the thrift store.” Without checking for traffic, the pensioner barreled off the curb, forcing an oncoming driver to slam on his brakes.
Raising his hands in mute apology to several disgruntled drivers, Lee followed. “I didn’t give it away.” He beckoned at Jules, who had caught up to them. “She did.”
“Because he was dead,” she explained.
The old bloke glowered. “You think it’s fun to taunt the infirm?” They reached the opposite pavement and fell in behind a young mother pushing a double stroller. “Come on, girlie!” he bellowed. “Consider other pedestrians.”
The startled woman yanked her stroller to one side.
Lee lengthened his stride to keep up with the grinch. Close up he could see the jacket’s collar had darkened thanks to hair oil and was roughened on the elbows from the armrests. So he’d have it cleaned. It was his; he wanted it back. “I’ll double what you paid for it.”
The pensioner eased his carpet slipper off the accelerator and onto the brake. “A hundred bucks.”
“Done.” He got out his wallet.
“Do you have another jacket, sir?” Jules inquired.
The grinch ignored her. Lee became aware of the sharp wind and the sharper odor of the old man, as sour as his disposition. It was like smelling himself a week ago. Unkempt and uncared-for.
He slid two fifties out of his wallet.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “It looks better on you. Here...” Lee held out the money “Buy yourself a shirt to go with it.”
CHAPTER NINE
AN HOUR LATER, Jules stole away to the women’s powder room of Whangarei’s premier department store and made an emergency call to the credit department at Visa.
“We wrote offering to increase your limit last month,” the representative commented. “You requested no further offers unless advised.”
“And now I’m advising,” Jules said. “Can it take effect immediately?”
He’d spent five hundred dollars in the first store they’d visited. On shoes. Lord knows what he was doing in menswear.
“Taken care of that for you, ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Her next call was to the estate agent.
“Hey, I’m just on my way to put up a for-sale sign.”
“Don’t,” Jules said. “Lee’s living with me and I don’t want him to know it’s on the market.” Paying him back was her problem, not his. “Also, the house is currently under siege from the press.” She explained the situation to Chloe. “Hold off all viewings for a couple of days until the fuss dies down, then we’ll show buyers when he’s out.” Maybe she should encourage him to join the gym after all.
“Just to tell ya. As fantastic as I am at my job, it’s pretty hard to get a quick sale on a property I can’t show or advertise.”
Chloe was a friend, such a good friend that she’d tried to talk Jules out of putting the house on the market. “You’ll be lucky to get what you paid for it five years ago,” she’d said. “And that’s with all the improvements you’ve made inside. At least paint the exterior and tame the garden first.”
“Market it as a handyman’s dream,” Jules had countered. “Use lots of exclamation marks. They won me over.”
Now she massaged her temples. “Do your best. I’ll think of something and get back to you. Gotta go.” She hung up, then called her colleague. You’re just sounding him out, she told herself as she waited for Nick to pick up. Selling your shareholding is a last resort. “Nick? Jules... Thanks, yes, I’m over the moon. Listen, can you spare me thirty minutes tomorrow morning? Ten, your office? Great, see you then.”
By the time she reentered the menswear department, thirty minutes had passed. The salesmen recognized her. “Your man’s in the changing rooms.” He led the way through the dimly lit interior with its burgundies and forest-green decor, its artfully spotlit suits and jackets. Her heels sank into the plush carpets. “He’s having trouble with sizes.” The young guy hesitated before pointing to a black velvet curtain. “I’ll leave you to it. Holler if you need anything.”
“Thanks.”
The obvious relief in the salesman’s departure gave Jules pause. Maybe Lee didn’t want help? Through a gap in the curtain she caught movement and stepped closer to ask. The question died on her lips.
His mirrored expression stony, Lee shrugged off a shirt miles too big for him and let it drop to the growing pile on the floor then reached for another from a hook on the cubicle wall. But Jules’s attention was riveted to his upper back and shoulders. Both were crisscrossed with scars, some whitened, some still bright red.
Lee half turned as he put on the shirt and she saw one side of his torso was similarly marked. His body was bone and sinew, the cords of remaining muscle mimicking the ridged scars. The contrast of smooth, unmarked skin between scar tissue only heightened the horror of what had been done to him.
Blindly, she stepped away—one pace, two—struggling for composure. Then she pivoted on her heel and, gesturing to the salesman, started rummaging through the shelves and racks. “He suits warm tones,” she said when he joined her. “Or light clean greens and crisp blues.” She grabbed a couple of shirts sized medium slim.
“He insists on large.”
“Get the size he needs, I’ll sell it. Do the same with jeans...and we’ll need belts.”
With a nod he bustled off. Steeling herself, Jules returned to the changing room, arriving to hear a muffled curse.
“Lee?”
“Hang on.” When he opened the curtain, he was dressed in his make-do clothes. “Nothing fits.”
With a studied casualness, she glanced at the pile on the floor. “If you’re buying your old size, no wonder. Here, try these on.”
He checked the labels and scowled. “I’m not buying clothes I’ll grow out of within a month.”
It would take longer than that to rebuild his former frame. “So we’ll give them to the thrift store. Maintain a fine tradition.”
He smiled but his expression was still bleak. “I didn’t realize what a scarecrow I’d become.”
Jules ached to tell him he was still beautiful to those who cared about him. “Look on the bright side. At least you’ll have the consolation of never seeing these smaller sizes on the grinch.”
Lee laughed. “There is that. Pass them here, then.”
The salesman joined them with an armful of jeans and belts and Jules glimpsed a dangling price tag. Her increased credit limit wasn’t going to last long.
Too bad.
He needed this.
* * *
“You find us A SEAT, I’ll order,” Lee suggested to Jules when they entered the dimly lit Ballymore pub. Styled Old English with dark wood paneling, the yeasty smell of beer sat comfortably with the fragrant waft of beef and pastry pies for which the pub was renowned. “What can I get you?”
“Orange juice.” Sh
e gazed around the bar. “I didn’t expect ever to come in here again.... It’s...” She gave him a tremulous smile. Despite the unholy mess she’d created, Jules was happy he was alive.
With an abrupt nod, Lee threaded his way through the tables, mostly full with the lunchtime crowd, toward the solid curved bar, where beer mugs hanging on a row of hooks glinted like fairy lights.
The bartender was drawing ale and filling a tray with six tankards. “Be with you in a jiffy, mate.”
“No hurry.” Lee turned to locate Jules and saw she’d found a table in the corner. When Claire set them up on a blind date she’d told Lee that he and Jules were perfect for each other. “She isn’t used to saying yes and you’re not used to hearing no.” He should have taken the warning then.
It had intrigued him to date someone who thought her intelligence rendered her immune to “guys like you.” When he’d asked for clarification she’d realized her mistake and, using flattery, tried to wiggle out of the hole she’d dug. “Gorgeous, charming and macho.” But her wry grin had given her away.
He’d suggested even “women like her” had primal instincts that responded to a hulk capable of fending off a T. rex.
Even now, Lee grinned recalling her reply. “Only to provide it with a meal while I escape.”
“At least I offer more to chew on than the nerd who invented the wheel.”
“Assuming it was invented by a guy. More likely it was a woman who needed a more reliable load-carrier since all the he-men kept getting themselves eaten.”
He’d stared at her, experiencing a sensation similar to free-fall parachuting.
“What can I get you, mate?”
Lee stared blankly at the bartender and then reoriented himself. “One orange juice, one Guinness.” When he’d embarked on his project of torturing Jules’s conscience he hadn’t anticipated suffering right along with her. “On second thought, hold the Guinness, I’ll have a Scotch.”
* * *
CELL TO HER EAR, Jules listened to a message from her mother. “I missed your call. Now who’s impulsive in love, recommitting to a dead guy you haven’t seen for nearly two years. Seriously, I’m so, so happy for you, sweetie, and can’t wait to meet my future son-in-law. I’m heading out so will try again later. I’m dying to hear how the family cynic was swept off her feet. Love you!”
