Echo Point

by Virginia Hale

  Bron smiled. “I’ll get to it as soon as I can,” she said to a grateful Ally.

  But her curiosity was so strong, she read over it as soon as Ally left the office. It wasn’t quite a full page. Ally had detailed her educational experience, explained her time at Oberon, and described her full-time position working with Daniel as a reformed individual. The letter read eloquently and articulately.

  After locking up downstairs and checking on her sleeping niece, she knocked softly on Ally’s bedroom door.

  “Come in,” she heard faintly.

  She slowly opened the bedroom door, surprised to find Ally sitting up in bed with a novel. She briefly glanced around Libby’s old room. A fresh set of work clothes lay over the chair in the corner, and Libby’s dresser was sparsely decorated with Ally’s things—a can of deodorant, a hairbrush and her toiletries bag.

  Bron focused on Ally. “I just read your letter.”

  “Was it okay?” Ally whispered.

  “It’s great, Al.”

  Her eyes lit up. She closed her book and sat forward. “Really?”

  “Yeah. You’re good with words.”

  “Any criticisms?”

  She thought about it. “Maybe you could include some of your business ideas? It could be a draw card…”

  She nodded slowly. A smirk slowly broke out on her lips. “Like the reformed prisoner draw card?”

  She shrugged, a matching grin tugging at her lips. “Why the hell not?”

  Chapter Ten

  Bron hadn’t realized just how much effort she’d put into Ally’s birthday dinner until Jackie pointed it out at five o’clock on the fifth of December.

  “Do you need a freezer bag to take the cake over to the restaurant tonight, love?” Jackie asked from across the backyard where she was down on her hands and knees, turning over the garden bed with a spade.

  Bron pinned the last sock to the clothesline. “No, I already dropped it off at Lucido’s before I picked up Annie from school. Did I tell you they spelled Al’s name with an ‘ie’ on the plaque? I got all the way home this morning, opened the box to take a look, and then had to drive all the way back.”

  Jackie dug the spade into the dry bed of lettuce. She pushed her sunhat back from her face and wiped at her forehead. “That’s a lot of trouble that you’ve gone to for Ally. You wouldn’t have done all of this two months ago, would you? And Lucido’s? That place is expensive. I thought we were going out for Chinese?”

  Bron could sense what was coming, and she didn’t want to have the conversation with her mother. She pulled the empty washing basket against her hip. “It’s not that expensive. We went to Lucido’s for your birthday,” she huffed. She pulled a fresh towel from the clothesline, tossed it over her shoulder and disappeared upstairs to take a quick shower before dinner.

  She flicked off the hair dryer, deciding to leave her hair out for once. The day had been cooler, and the temperature was predicted to drop around nine. She dabbed perfume to her wrists, remembering how Rae had been allergic to it. If there was a consolation to their breakup—and, in hindsight, there were many consolations—at least she could wear as much perfume as she wanted. Winding the cord around the handle of the hair dryer, Bron examined her reflection. I should moisturize more. And start wearing sunscreen every day. Libby wore sunscreen every day, and her skin was gorgeous.

  Guessing Annie was more preoccupied with the toys she’d insisted on taking into the shower rather than actually washing her hair, Bron stepped out of her room to reinstate her seven-minute-shower rule. When she pulled open her bedroom door, Ally was heaving herself up the stairs.

  She paused at the top step. She looked tired and sweaty, and her legs were speckled with paint. But she looked up at Bron and smiled, genuine and warm, as though coming home to her had made up for a long and tiresome day.

  “I didn’t hear you pull up,” Bron said, pushing her hair behind her ears. “How was work?”

  Ally chuckled and ran a hand over her head. “Exhausting.”

  “I’m sorry I missed you this morning. I didn’t get to say happy birthday.”

  Ally shrugged. “Annie made me birthday cereal, so that made up for it.” She winked. “It was nice and soggy by the time I made it downstairs.”

  Bron grinned. “Well, happy birthday…”

  “Thanks.”

  Ally was staring at her so attentively that she felt colour rise to her neck. “We have reservations for seven,” she said.

  Ally rested her chin on the landing post, looking her up and down. “Seven people, or seven o’clock?” she asked coyly. Just as Bron was about to clarify, Ally said, “You look nice.”

  She glanced down, as though she’d forgotten she’d chosen the green sundress, sat on her bed and strapped her wedge heels on moments before leaving her room. “Thank you,” she said. “And seven o’clock.”

  “I’ll just have a quick shower and then I’ll be down,” Ally said, heading to the end of the hall.

  “Annie’s in there,” Bron said. “But the water’s been running for over ten minutes, so I don’t know what she’s up to.”

  Ally knocked loudly, grinning at Bron. “Ann?”

  The water turned off. A moment later, the bathroom door opened and Annie came out, one of the thick burgundy towels wrapped around her body, so large it fell to her ankles. “You always gotta knock or else you might see me naked!” Annie exclaimed.

  Ally shot a glance at Bron, smirking. Her cheeks warmed at the memory of walking in on Ally weeks before.

  “Come on,” Bron ushered Annie out of the bathroom doorway. “Let’s get you dressed and your hair dried, missy moo.”

  Annie stood in the doorway, unmoving. “Are you wearing perfume?” she asked Bron.

  As Ally stepped around Annie and into the bathroom, Bron felt Ally’s eyes on her. A small wrinkle marred Ally’s brow as her stare lingered at the curve of Bron’s waist. Her raw, visceral attraction was electrifying. Bron was well aware—too aware—that her reaction to Ally’s attention was so powerful because she wanted Ally too. Perhaps almost as much as she claims to want me.

  “Ann, come out so Ally can shower.”

  “I’m not wearing a ponytail tonight,” Annie insisted, almost tripping over the towel as Bron led her down the hall.

  “No ponytail.”

  It wasn’t until they reached Annie’s bedroom that Bron actually heard the bathroom door click shut.

  “You’re going to love it here,” Annie told Ally as the two walked hand in hand toward the restaurant. Bron thought Ally looked gorgeous in her tight, dark jeans and a new white button-up shirt, but it was the sight of her closeness to Annie that was most beautiful. “They give you dough at your table,” Annie explained, “and you can make any shape you want. Monster. Princess. It’s really up to you. Just don’t eat the dough after they cook it because you’ve been playing with it and that is just gross.”

  “Do you like the balloons?” Annie asked eagerly when the waitress led them to their table. “It was my idea. Aunty Bron and I got them from Big W before I went to school today. Bet you didn’t know that! I made Aunt Bron get blue because I know that’s your favourite colour like me.”

  When they were all seated, the young waitress placed a wineglass in front of Jackie, Bron, Ally, Daniel and Carly. “We’ll just be needing four,” Ally said coolly, handing hers back. She looked across the table at Bron. “Even a birthday drink isn’t worth breaching parole,” she joked.

  Bron had decided earlier in the day that, because it was a party, she would allow Annie a glass of lemonade soft drink. It was the one thing Libby had always been rigorous about. But when the table water arrived, Ally filled a glass for herself and then another for Annie. Listening to Carly’s tale about a train trip from hell, in her peripheral vision, Ally slid the glass across the table to a stop in front of Annie. Annie’s little hands stilled on her small lump of dough, clearly contemplating whether to accept the glass of water, or try her luck asking Bron i
f she could order a lemonade. Knowing that Bron was listening to Carly and, well-mannered enough not to interrupt, Annie turned her attention back to her floury creation. Nice move, Al. It was becoming increasingly apparent to her that Ally was not only a good influence on Annie, but a good parent.

  After the pizza arrived, Annie’s tiny hand cupped the shell of Bron’s ear. “Can I give Ally my present now?” The gentle touch of her hand to Bron’s ear coupled with the warmth of her breath spread a deep, maternal affection through Bron.

  Across the table, Ally glanced up from her plate. “Hey, grub, it’s rude to whisper.”

  Bron smiled down at Annie and pressed a kiss to her temple. “It’s in my bag.”

  Shyly, Annie bent down beneath the table. When she stood up again, her hands were hidden behind her back.

  “Close eyes,” she told Ally.

  Ally did as she was told. The adults watched with rapt attention as Annie positioned a box made of Popsicle sticks in Ally’s cupped hands. On top of the box, Annie placed her birthday card.

  “Open eyes,” she said bashfully.

  Bron smoothed a hand over Annie’s back as she watched Ally read over the card—an A4 sheet of white paper folded in half and decorated in Annie’s large, crayoned penmanship. The focus Ally gave the card, her expression devoid of any trace of condescension as she silently read over it, touched Bron deeply.

  “This is really neat, Annie,” Ally said, holding up the homemade trinket box. “Thank you very much! I can put my hair ties in it so they don’t get lost. Come here,” she said. Annie climbed down from her chair next to Bron and moved around the table to collect her thank-you kiss from Ally.

  Carly and Daniel picked that moment to hand over their gift—a set of movie vouchers. “Speaking of film,” Jackie said after Ally had thanked Carly and Daniel, lifting the present she had picked out with Bron earlier that week onto the table and placing it in front of Ally.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten me anything,” Ally said. “I don’t deserve it.” Ally’s smile and matching wink for Jackie were playful, but her words were weighted.

  Jackie scoffed. “Nonsense.” She motioned for Ally to look inside the bag. “That’s from Bron and me.”

  Ally reached into the gift bag and pulled out the small black box. “You got me a camera.”

  “It’s just a basic digital one,” Bron said. “I don’t know much about photography so the girl at the shop helped us pick it out, but we figured you’ll get yourself a better one down the track.”

  Ally read over the description on the box. She looked up, first at Jackie, and then at Bron. Her gaze lingered. “Thanks so much. This is really nice. Too much, but…thanks.”

  Bron willed away the heat rising to her cheeks. She fumbled in her handbag for a moment, and then pushed Ally’s birthday card across the table. “Happy birthday.”

  Grinning widely, Ally picked it up. Although the card only held some generic message inside, and all that Bron had added was Best wishes on your special day! and signed her name, Ally popped it into the bag with the opened cards, saving it for later. The gesture suggested receiving a separate card from Bron meant much more.

  After deciding she’d consumed enough pizza to complement her surprisingly high wine intake, Bron excused herself. She felt her head rush as she flicked on the light in the small restroom and closed the door to one of the three cubicles behind her.

  A moment later, the main door to the restroom clicked open.

  “Just washing my hands.”

  Ally. When Bron opened her cubicle door, Ally looked up from the sink and met her gaze in the mirror.

  “Hands felt a bit greasy,” Ally murmured.

  “Yeah,” Bron said mindlessly, trying to process the fact that Ally had actually followed her in there. She skilfully stumbled over and turned on the tap at the sink beside Ally. As the water cascaded over her own hands, she focused on Ally’s. Her fingers were long and lithe. Piano hands, Bron mused.

  Ally turned off the tap and dried her hands with a paper towel. “Thanks for doing all of this—dinner and stuff.” She dropped the paper towel into the bin beneath the sink. “It’s a lot nicer than what poor Carly got for her twenty-first.”

  Bron laughed, turning off the tap and accepting a paper towel from Ally who leaned back against the sink. She shifted closer, and her hip brushed against Bron’s. Her tone took on an unexpected seriousness when she said, “No one’s done anything this nice for me in a long time.”

  Bron tossed her paper towel into the bin. Acutely aware of what she was doing, she firmly pressed her lips to Ally’s warm cheek. When she pulled back slightly to gauge her reaction, Ally’s eyes were dark, her lips parted. Bron could feel her hot breath against her cheekbone. She swallowed harshly. The poor, shivering frequency of the radio on the windowsill danced around the bathroom, echoing a country song off the cheaply tiled floor.

  Shamelessly, Ally pushed off the counter, sliding her hands down Bron’s sides until they grasped her hips. The tight grip revealed her intent. Although Bron’s head was spinning, she noted Ally’s dilated pupils. She felt a heavy pull low in her abdomen. Emboldened by the alcohol flowing through her veins, she closed her eyes and surged forward.

  Ally’s lips quickly acquiesced to her kiss. When she cupped Ally’s cheeks, angling her head to deepen the kiss, Ally let her revel in her newfound dominance for a prolonged moment, until Ally’s growing need for control emerged. She smoothed a firm hand over the bare skin between Bron’s shoulder blades, and pulled lightly at the hair at the base of Bron’s neck.

  When Bron’s tongue slipped between Ally’s lips, Ally’s jaw stiffened under her fingers. Bron dropped her hands, clutching at Ally’s sides. Oh my god, she tastes so good.

  Ally withdrew her grip from the nape of Bron’s neck and splayed her hand against Bron’s sternum. Her fingertips grazed the base of Bron’s throat and her palm was firm, almost pressing. Is she trying to push me away? Her mouth, hungry and hot and ardent, said otherwise.

  Ally’s scent was all around her. A desperate sound escaped from Bron’s lips. In response, Ally wedged her more tightly against the counter. While it had been warm and comforting—albeit arousing—in Bron’s ancient Toyota in the cemetery car park, this was needy and desperate. Their breasts pressed together, and she felt herself tremble as the ache between her legs throbbed at the pressure. She tried to pull herself even closer, shocked by her body’s unexpected, frantic desire to articulate every bewildering thing she felt for Ally in their kiss.

  The hand that wasn’t at the base of Bron’s neck clawed at her back, her hip, until it took an adventurous, feral descent and ran over the front of Bron’s thigh, bunching up her dress as it travelled higher. She inhaled sharply at the touch. I’m wet, she thought, her tongue shying away from the touch of Ally’s for a second at the realisation. But her hips pressed forward without permission. Yes, yes. Bron could hear her own shallow breath, the way she inhaled abruptly at the precise moment Ally gripped her between her legs, massaging that relentless pulse through the bunched material of her dress. With tightly closed eyes and a furrowed brow, she struggled to keep both feet on the floor as Ally’s hand moved encouragingly.

  “Al-ly,” she whimpered, breaking the kiss. Her head slumped against Ally’s bare shoulder, her hips pressing down against that relentless grip.

  For a long moment, it continued, and Bron felt like she was soaring. But then Ally pulled back, and her hand gradually slipped away. Although Ally’s chest was heaving and her rigid nipples were evident in her thin button-up, she rasped, “Not here.” Still, her penetrating stare beckoned.

  Wedged between the counter and Ally’s torn, unmoving body, Bron fought to regulate her breathing, to calm the unsatisfied ache between her legs. She was dangerously dizzy, like when she was little and would hang her head off the back of a swing. Ally had pulled her back up too quickly, and it was going to take her a few seconds to shake off the adrenaline rush.

  “Don’
t tell Annie,” Ally grated. Her fingertips dug into Bron’s side. “But that was my favourite birthday present. Ever.”

  Bron licked her swollen lips and ran a hand down Ally’s chest. She nodded softly. Ally kissed her forehead and then she was gone.

  When Bron stepped out into the restaurant corridor, their waitress was on her way out of the kitchen. “Is it okay to bring out the cake now?” she asked.

  Bron nodded and returned to the table. It wasn’t until after the cake arrived, they had sung “Happy Birthday,” and Ally had blown out her candles, that Ally finally met her gaze for a moment as she spoke with Annie.

  “What are you going to call it, Ann?” Ally asked, her eyes flickering up from Annie’s cooked ‘dough princess’ to Bron. She looked as conflicted and tormented as Bron felt. Knowingly, she lifted the bottle of table water to Bron’s wineglass and filled it almost to the brim, the instruction obvious. Annie’s extensive reply fell on deaf ears. Lust swirled fiercely inside of her, demanding attention she wasn’t sure she could give. She immediately downed the glass of water.

  It was after eleven when they finally left the restaurant. Bron realized just how inebriated she was when she stood to take care of the bill, the digits on the screen of the credit card machine swimming as she punched in her passcode. On the way home, when Annie fell asleep in the backseat of the car with her head in Bron’s lap, Bron struggled not to do the same.

  She unbuckled her niece, ready to carry her inside, but Ally whispered her insistence. “You’re drunk, Bronwyn Lee—let me. You’ll drop the poor kid.”

  Trying her best not to wake Annie, Ally carried her upstairs. Bron followed all the way, her gaze focused on the perfect, firm fit of Ally’s jeans, the way her white button-up pulled tightly across her back as she climbed the stairs with Annie in her arms. Ally was powerful, and dangerous, and…exquisite. I want to touch her. I want to feel her—everywhere. Jackie had locked up behind them and already retired to bed. The house was about to be in dark silence. Bron’s body buzzed with anticipation at the memory of Ally’s gruff, tortured voice. Not here, she had said. So…where? When?