No Ocean Deep

by Cate Swannell

  “Oh my god.”

  Jo dug the long-nosed pliers carefully into the small hole high up in the wall of the living room. She was balanced on a stepladder, one hand pressed against the wall and the other manipulating the pliers. Her tongue poked, rather endearingly, Cadie thought, from the corner of her mouth as she concentrated on her task.

  “You found it, then?” Cadie asked, chuckling when Jo jumped. The blonde had been outside, loading some more of her things into the rental car and Jo had obviously not heard her come back in. Cadie stepped forward quickly to steady the ladder as her partner recovered.

  “Jesus, woman, you startled me,” Jo exclaimed. “I nearly had the damn thing, too.”

  “Sorry, love,” Cadie replied. She looked up and watched as Jo carefully extracted the crumpled bullet fragment from the hole.

  “Got it,” Jo said, somewhat redundantly.

  “Just out of curiosity,” Cadie began. “Why do we need it? I mean, Naomi shot it, Naomi loaded the gun, presumably, and I don’t think she’s going to announce either of those things to the police. So why are we worrying about pulling it out of the wall?”

  Jo climbed slowly back down the ladder and they both took a few moments to study the bullet as it sat in the palm of the taller woman’s hand.

  Jo shrugged. “I don’t know really,” she finally said. “I’d suggest keeping it as a souvenir but the last thing we’d want is for it to set off some damn metal detector between here and Sydney.” She grinned at Cadie. “Maybe we should just put it down to me being a neat freak?”

  Her partner smiled back but then turned serious again. “Let’s leave it with Mom and Dad,” she suggested suddenly. Jo met her gaze and raised an inquiring eyebrow. “The bottom line is, we don’t really know how she’s going to be feeling about you and I, even if this rehab clinic does her some good,” Cadie explained. “There weren’t any witnesses today. If she wanted to say I’d shot at her, she could. But, if we’ve got the bullet – which, presumably, she loaded into the gun – at least we have a chance of proving it was the other way around.” Her uncertainty turned the last part of the sentence into a question. Jo nodded and smiled at her.

  “Spot on,” Jo murmured. “Okay, then. We’ll leave it with your parents.” She looked at her partner again. “You realize that means telling them pretty much what happened?”

  “Yeah, I know. They’re not going to be happy.”

  Jo wrapped an arm around Cadie’s shoulder and pulled her in for a quick hug. “They’ll be okay. You’re safe and Naomi’s in the nuthouse. That’s all they need to remember.” Cadie squeezed her back and both women enjoyed the contact for a few seconds before they separated with a quick smile.

  Jo bent down and extracted Naomi’s pistol from where Cadie had hidden it under a seat cushion. She unwrapped it from the handkerchief and studied it carefully. It was similar to a million other guns she had seen and handled in her former life, and nothing about it was extraordinary.

  “Does Naomi usually keep a gun in the house?” she asked casually. “Or did she bring this with her just for this trip?”

  Cadie looked more closely at the gun. Unlike Jo, she’d never had more than a passing interest in firearms and had only ever fired rifles. She had no idea if this was Naomi’s only gun.

  “There’s only way to find out,” she concluded. “Come on.”

  Jo followed her across the hallway and into a spacious study that was lined with dark wood panels. It was cluttered with books and papers, but like everything else in the house, there was a thin layer of dust covering all. Cadie walked over to the large oak desk and sat down in the leather chair. She reached under the desktop.

  “Naomi kept it in a secret panel under here somewhere,” she said as she fumbled around. “Aaaah.” There was a satisfying click and a panel slid out. Inside was a felt-lined shelf, empty except for the faint outline of a handgun on the material, and a box of bullets. “Bingo.”

  “Well, that answers that question,” Jo said. Before she could think about what to do next, however, the front door bell rang.

  “What if that’s the police?” Cadie whispered, her face a picture of alarm. Jo’s eyes widened for an instant but then she slapped her forehead.

  “Jesus, that’ll be Maurice. I completely forgot about him.”

  Blonde eyebrows rose.

  “Who is Maurice?”

  Jo grinned at her. “My driver. I promised him a hundred dollars to show up in an hour with my luggage. I guess the hour’s up.”

  “That’s a hell of a tip, Jo-Jo. Want me to go pay him?”

  Jo shook her head. “No, I’ll do it.” She handed the gun, still wrapped in the handkerchief, back to Cadie. “Slide that back into its place in the drawer – but don’t touch the metal at all, okay?” she said. “Then wrap this –” She tipped the crushed bullet out of her palm and on to the desktop. “In the handkerchief.”

  Cadie handled the gun gingerly. “You’re sure?” She looked glumly at the gun and Jo leaned down and kissed her softly on the forehead.

  “Cheer up, sweetheart. It’s almost all over and then we can go home,” she whispered. Cadie leaned against her for a few moments.

  “I do love you, you know.”

  Jo smiled and kissed her again. “I know. Be back in a minute.” With one last pat of Cadie’s shoulder she turned and headed for the front door.

  Cadie watched her go and then turned back to the task at hand. Gingerly she slid the gun onto the felt and nudged it into place with the handkerchief. Then she picked up the spent shell, again using the material to keep her own fingerprints off the metal. She tucked the little package into her jeans pocket.

  She was about to go find Jo, when a thought occurred to her that made her sit back down. A stack of Naomi’s personalized stationery caught her attention and she slid a blank page towards her. After all, my fingerprints should be all over this house, she reasoned. I lived here for seven years, God knows. Cadie lifted Naomi’s fountain pen out of the desk set … I gave that to her three Christmases ago … and began writing.

  Naomi,

  I hope the time in the rehabilitation clinic does you good. Believe it or not, I do actually care about you. Enough to wish you well in the future, at least.

  In case you’re wondering, neither Jo nor I touched the gun – yours are the only fingerprints on it. And, yes, we have the remains of the bullet you fired at me. Yours are the only prints on that as well, along with a few scraps of my DNA, I’m sure.

  We had a lot of good times together over the years, but those times are long gone. They were gone well before I ever met Jo – one day you’ll see that for the truth it is, and accept your share of the responsibility for it.

  But I don’t want to hear from you again, Naomi. I hope you’ll understand that the bullet is my guarantee of that. Look after yourself, and your career. Those are things that make you happy, and I do want you to be happy. But leave me, and Jo, out of it.

  Take care, and goodbye.

  Arcadia

  Jo peeked through the peephole, relieved to see that it was indeed Maurice who had rung the front door bell. She opened the door and grinned at him. “Hello, Maurice.”

  “Oh, thank goodness, ma’am. I was beginning to think something was seriously wrong,” said the driver, relief written on his face. “I saw an ambulance leaving and didn’t know what to do.”

  Jo stepped outside, picking up one of her bags as she walked past him. “No worries, mate, you did exactly the right thing,” she said reassuringly. “Give me a hand with the other bag, will you?”

  Together they loaded Jo’s gear into Cadie’s car before she handed him the promised cash.

  “Thanks,” she said, grinning and shaking his hand.

  “You sure everything’s all right, ma’am?” Maurice said, more than happy with his profit on the day, but eager to be of whatever further service was needed.

  “Everything’s great,” Jo answered, and for the first time since she had arrived i
n the country, she actually felt like that was the truth. “A friend of ours just had a bit of a nasty turn, that’s all. She’ll be fine.”

  “Well, that’s good to hear, that’s for sure,” he said, enthusiastically pumping her hand. He reached into his pocket and gave her a battered business card which had seen better days. “And the next time you’re in Chicago and need someone to drive you around, you just call my number.”

  Jo took it happily. “I’ll certainly do that, Maurice. If I ever get out of this country and back again without being arrested or shot at, it will be you I call.” She grinned at the uncertain look on his face. “I’m joking, mate, honestly.”

  “Uh, yes ma’am,” he muttered, suddenly not so sure that she was joking at all. “Well, safe travels to you.”

  “And you.”

  An hour later the car was packed with everything of Cadie’s they could find. Cadie pulled the front door closed and backed away, looking up at the big house. Jo leaned against the hood of the car, watching her friend say goodbye to a lot of memories.

  Cadie patted the head of the ceramic dragon sitting by the doorstep. Bye, Albert. I’d like to think there are a lot more fond memories of this place than just you, but I’m struggling to remember many of them right now. She turned and headed towards where Jo was waiting, and Cadie felt the smile coming to her own face. I’d much rather look forward than back. Check out how gorgeous my future is.

  “Ready to go?” Jo asked quietly as Cadie came towards her.

  “Absolutely,” Cadie answered firmly. “It’s time to go home.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Australia Day weekend… eight months later… somewhere in the Whitsundays…

  The three long, sleek yachts were moored together, side by side, pontoon-style in the middle of the lagoon. On the portside was the Beowulf, in the middle was Cheswick Marine’s flagship, the Seawolf, and on the starboard side, resplendent in a fresh coat of paint, was the newly-christened Lobo, the latest addition to the fleet.

  The sea was calm, and the sun had just dipped below the mountains on the mainland away to the west. The clear blue sky of a summer’s day was giving way to a glorious speckling of starlight and the scene was a picture of paradise. If it hadn’t been for the raucous music booming from the Seawolf’s sound system, and the tantalizing smell of barbecuing meat, not to mention the sights and sounds of a party in full swing, it could have been mistaken for a scene from a painting.

  It was Saturday night, the first evening of the traditional Australia Day long weekend, and a party was indeed in progress. Revelers were spread across the decks of the three yachts, while others walked on the nearby coral reef, its wonders almost exposed by the low tide. The air was muggy, though as the sun descended, a gentle sea breeze came off the breaking waves to the east of the atoll, where the open ocean lapped up against the edge of the Great Barrier Reef.

  Away from the yachts, but tethered to the Seawolf by a 100 feet or so of floating rope, bobbed an aluminum dinghy. Its two occupants lay along its towel-covered bottom in a contented tangle of suntanned arms and legs. Both women were scantily clad; Jo in a lightning blue one-piece swimsuit that emphasized the length of her lean, but muscular legs; Cadie wore a sea-green bikini that brought out the color of her eyes.

  Not that either woman was particularly concerned with clothing just at that moment. In fact they were more engaged in removing it, or at least, getting inside it.

  Jo’s hand slid under Cadie’s bikini top, cupping her breast gently. The move elicited a low moan from the blonde as she kissed Jo deeply, their tongues teasing. She arched up against her lover and her own hand found purchase under the high-cut leg of Jo’s swimsuit.

  “God, you feel fantastic,” Jo murmured huskily, her alto deepened further by desire. The sound, and feel of her breath, brushing against Cadie’s ear, sent tremors down the smaller woman’s spine and she buried her face against the soft skin of Jo’s neck, trembling slightly. “Are you cold, sweetheart?” Jo asked, wrapping her arm more tightly around Cadie.

  “Not even slightly,” Cadie replied softly, brushing her lips against Jo’s pulse-point, loving the fluttering response she felt there. “You’re just doing very wicked things to my nervous system, darling.”

  Jo smiled and ducked her face, pressing her nose into the silky, blonde locks tucked up against her. She let her lover’s unique scent – Cadie’s apricot shampoo, mingled with sunscreen and ocean – wash through her senses. Happiness smells like this, she thought.

  “I want to make love to you,” she whispered, adoring the little gasp her suggestion drew from Cadie.

  “I can tell,” Cadie responded, brushing the palm of her hand across Jo’s lycra-covered and attentive breasts. “Can we be seen from the boats?” she asked. Not that I really care at this point. The way she makes me feel, Steve Irwin and his film crew could be turning us into a documentary and I wouldn’t care enough to say ‘crikey’.

  Jo pushed herself up on one elbow and lifted her head so she could see over the gunwale of the dinghy.

  “No, we’ve drifted quite a way away,” she said. She turned back and looked down at Cadie. The setting sun was turning the American’s hair red-gold, and her now deeply-tanned skin almost glowed in the low light. “You are so beautiful,” she whispered, a look of wonder on her face.

  Cadie felt the heat of a blush rising up her neck and across her cheeks, on top of the flush of desire Jo had already provoked. Even now, almost a year into their relationship, it never failed to floor her when Jo said something romantic out of the blue like that. She reached up and drew a gentle finger across the high plane of the Jo’s cheekbone. Sparkling blue eyes, darkened by the fading light, blinked at her.

  “Back at you, Aussie,” she murmured.

  Jo’s left hand, already wrapped around Cadie’s back, deftly unhooked the blonde’s bikini top, releasing her breasts to the warm, tropical air. Jo groaned softly at the sight and ducked her head, gently enfolding a waiting nipple in a warm, wet mouth.

  “Oh, Jo.” Cadie’s hand slipped into the dark hair splayed across her chest and pulled Jo closer still. There was something nurturing in the action, quite apart from how completely turned on she felt. She just wanted to hold Jo in her arms, like this, forever.

  Jo didn’t give her much time to savor the moment, however, as her lips continued to tease and tug at her breasts relentlessly. Cadie didn’t mind in the least. She sighed happily and arched against Jo’s solid frame as her lover’s hand strayed down the length of Cadie’s torso. “Yes, angel,” she whispered, urging.

  Jo needed little in the way of encouragement. Her fingers found the waistband of Cadie’s bikini bottom and dipped beneath it, finding soft curls already damp with anticipation.

  Somehow Cadie had the presence of mind to reach up and slide the straps of Jo’s swimsuit down, off her shoulders, leaving her breasts exposed and ripe for Cadie to do some teasing of her own.

  They knew each other well enough now for their sense of timing and rhythm to be almost automatic and Cadie’s fingers found the sensitive nubs of Jo’s nipples just as her lover’s honed unerringly in on Cadie’s center. The effect was a simultaneous meltdown as both women gave in to their instincts, letting their bodies take over. The rest of the world faded out as they lost themselves and found each other in the gently rocking motions of love on the ocean.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Maggie Madison smiled as she watched the dinghy ducking and bobbing suspiciously, away in the distance. A few minutes earlier she had noticed her daughter’s distinctive head pop up for a couple of seconds, and it didn’t take much imagination to draw an accurate conclusion about just what was going on in that little boat. Maggie turned away and tapped Helena Jones lightly on the shoulder.

  “Don’t look now, but I think I’ve found Jo and Cadie,” she said, grinning at Cadie’s mother. The Jones’ had arrived for their first Australian holiday two weeks earlier and had been staying with Maggie and David in their new
home just inland from Shute Harbor. The two couples had gotten on like a house on fire from the word go, and Maggie and Helen were already the best of friends.

  “Oh, good. Where are they? I want to ask Cadie about the arrangements for tomorrow,” Helena said, swinging around to look at Maggie. The older woman cocked her head over her shoulder in the general direction of the dinghy.

  “I wouldn’t look too closely, though,” Maggie chuckled.

  “Oh dear.” Helena looked a little nonplussed as Maggie’s meaning became perfectly clear, the dinghy rocking more emphatically than the calm surface of the surrounding ocean could possibly cause. “Don’t tell the men,” she said, smiling back at Maggie. “I believe it would be too much for Stephen’s blood pressure.”

  Maggie laughed heartily, knowing that David would have a similar reaction if he thought about it too much.

  “Don’t think there’s too much danger of that,” she said, nodding in the direction of the two elders of the family, who were standing on either side of a portable barbeque set up in the main cockpit of the Seawolf. The men were obviously engaged in an animated discussion about something. “They look like they’re talking about politics.”

  “Or football,” Helena agreed. A distant yelp from the direction of the dinghy silenced them and the mothers stared at each other for a moment, eyes wide.

  “Cadie,” they said simultaneously, and then dissolved into gales of laughter.

  “Maybe I’d better go and turn the music up before Jo…” Maggie was interrupted by a lower-pitched moan that drifted across the still water.

  “Too late.” Helena chuckled. She was far more conservative than her laidback Australian counterpart, she knew, but there was just something about the atmosphere here, and about the way Jo and Cadie were together that made her comfortable. They’re so right together, she conceded. I could never say that about Cadie and Naomi. I would never have been able to think about them doing … she glanced out at the dinghy, which seemed to have stilled now. They’re perfect together.