Much as he was enjoying himself, he worried that it was all one way until, after a while, her pace began to increase, and her soft moans started to fill the darkness. Deciding enough was enough, he wrestled his hands free, holding her tightly, and rolled her underneath him. “A man can only take so much,” he told her, capturing her lips with his own.
“I wanted to make it last,” she complained when he finally lifted his head, although the way she wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to thrust more forcefully implied she wasn’t as devastated as she sounded.
“You want me to stop?” he grunted, pushing up her knees so he could plunge deeper inside her.
“Ah…well…if you put it…like that… Oh God…”
She was heaven, simply heaven, soft and wet and hot, and he was losing himself. His thoughts and emotions tangled with her erotic cries, the thick blanket of night muffling everything except the feel and touch and taste of her. They were covered in sweat, their bodies sliding over one another, and as her sighs turned to moans and her moans to deep groans, Ash let go and erupted into her. He gasped as she tightened around him, crying out with the intensity of her orgasm. He caught her cries with his mouth, holding her tightly, wishing he could stay like that forever. When she was wrapped around him, she kept his mind free of thoughts like a firewall, a barrier against the real world, insisting that this was where he belonged, here with her, hot and sweaty in the dark.
“Tea please,” said Mia. “With milk.”
Grace kicked her under the table, knowing Mia was only asking for milk in her Earl Grey because she knew it wound Isabella Fox up.
“Milk?” Isabella looked at Mia as if she’d asked for curry sauce. “I don’t think so, dear. Lemon’s much more suitable for Earl Grey.” She passed Mia a slice of lemon, freshly picked from the tree outside the kitchen.
Grace sipped her tea, wondering why after five minutes with her mother she always felt as if she were fifteen years old. Before she’d even taken her coat off in this house, she was transported back to her teenage days, and the familiar feelings of inadequacy and frustration began to creep up on her.
Part of the problem, she thought, was that the house hadn’t changed at all since her dad died. It wasn’t quite a shrine, exactly—Isabella had been keen to show everyone she was moving on and that her whole world didn’t revolve around the man in her life—but still, she was a creature of habit. Although she’d had the kitchen repainted, it was still the same dull green Grace had always hated, and as always the blinds seemed to shave the warmth off the sun’s rays, leaving the room permanently cool. Ash’s kitchen was so different. If she closed her eyes, she could picture the warm peach walls and the terracotta tiles, and the way the sun turned all the bubbles in the sink to tiny, rainbow-filled globes that floated around her head. And the way the worktop felt under her butt when Ash was—
“Grace? Are you listening to me at all?”
“Yes,” said Grace, wondering why her talent for saying exactly what she was thinking vanished miraculously when in earshot of her mother. “You were telling me about the daughter of someone’s cousin who’s getting married next month. You sounded impressed.”
“Of course I’m impressed,” said Isabella, joining them at the table. “He’s a doctor. There’s no man more impressive than a doctor.”
“Apart from the Prime Minister,” said Mia.
Isabella shot her a look. “Well, yes, obviously, but he’s married.” She sipped her tea, studying her daughter with the cool, appraising look that Grace knew meant would be followed by a criticism. “But you should be able to manage a doctor. You must meet plenty of parents through the school who are doctors.”
“Yes, but they’re usually married, if they’ve got kids,” Grace pointed out.
Isabella waved a hand. “Not necessarily. One in three marriages ends in divorce nowadays.”
“So why are you so keen for me to get married exactly?”
Isabella sighed and reached out to touch Grace’s cheek. “I’m sorry, love. I know I nag you. I just want to see you happy, that’s all.”
“I am happy,” Grace mumbled. Isabella was incredibly skilled at sliding enough compliments and caring thoughts into the conversation to make Grace wonder if she’d imagined the insults and barbs that had preceded them.
Mia sipped her tea. “Anyway, Grace has met a doctor.”
Grace closed her eyes in the stunned silence that followed. She’d asked Mia to accompany her on her weekly visit to her mother’s, hoping for moral support when she eventually got around to mentioning her current relationship to Isabella. She hadn’t expected Mia to blurt it out like that. She’d been hoping to build up to it first. But Mia gave her a “you were never going to say anything so I thought I’d do it for you” look and winked at her.
“Oh?” Isabella looked a strange mixture of vaguely impressed and oddly put out. Grace knew that it wouldn’t matter whom the doctor was. Even if she’d hooked up with a rich brain surgeon, Isabella would find fault and say something along the lines of, “Shame he hasn’t found a cure for cancer.”
“He used to be a doctor,” Grace corrected.
“Oh…” Isabella drew the word out, leaned forward and looked interested. “Come on, spill the beans.”
Grace wondered briefly whether it was worth inventing some fictional descendant of Einstein who’d invented time travel or something, but before she could conjure up a fake boyfriend, Mia said, “His name’s Ash Rutherford, and he’s a medium.”
“Mia!”
“Oh,” said Isabella, staring.
Grace sipped her tea and waited for the nuclear fallout.
“A medium?”
“Yes.”
“Hold on…” Isabella’s brain was working furiously. Grace was almost sure she could hear the squeaking of the old cogs inside. “Ash Rutherford. The Ash Rutherford?”
“You’ve heard of him?” Grace said, startled.
Isabella stood and got the copy of The Dominion Post that had just come out that morning. She opened it to the second page, stared at it and turned it around to show them.
Grace and Mia stared. The headline read, He Didn’t See That Coming! and there was a photograph—clearly taken with someone’s iPhone—of Ash carrying a woman out of the Michael Fowler Centre auditorium.
“Well, at least you can’t see up my skirt.” Grace didn’t see any reason in trying to defend herself. Even though her face was turned toward his chest, it was obvious from the brown hair curled in a bun that it was her.
Mia coughed into her tea. Grace ignored her.
Isabella turned the page back and stared at it again. “Why’s he carrying you out?”
“I fainted.”
Isabella turned the stare on her.
“No, Mother, I’m not pregnant.”
“How crude! I was thinking no such thing.”
“You totally were, and I can assure you there’s no chance of a grandchild any time soon.” Grace’s irritation was rising. If she were pregnant, Isabella would have remarked on her carelessness and demanded to know how she could shame the family in such a manner, à la Regency romance era. But because she wasn’t pregnant, Isabella would think it fine to lay on the fact that she was still waiting for her first grandchild at the ripe old age of fifty-five.
“So why did you faint then?”
Grace opened her mouth. And shut it again.
“She had a shock,” said Mia.
“What kind of shock?”
“You really don’t want to know.”
Grace stood and walked over to the kitchen sink to look out of the window. The borders full of spring flowers were pretty, but she longed for the wide expanse of lawn at Ash’s house leading down to the lake, where a heron stood patiently, exemplifying the serenity and peacefulness the whole place seemed to emanate. Here she felt jerky and pixelated like a scratched DVD, stuttering and halting, as if she’d never move smoothly again.
“I can’t believe you went to
a show like that,” said Isabella. “What a load of nonsense.”
Chapter Seventeen
Grace stiffened, clenching her jaw so hard her teeth hurt. She closed her eyes.
It seemed hypocritical to tell her mother not to be so harsh when she’d been saying exactly the same thing only the day before, but the fact was that even if she had felt the same way, she still didn’t want Isabella slagging him off. The trouble was, she hadn’t had enough time to process her thoughts yet. It was like having a whole shelf of unread books and being asked to write a review on each of them. She needed time to sit alone and really think about what had happened.
She shouldn’t have stayed the night around Ash’s house. Now she was apart from him, she cursed herself for being so weak, when the sensible thing would have been to spend some time contemplating the way he’d turned her world upside down. But he’d looked so tired she hadn’t been able to resist him.
When they awoke, she’d expected him to question her on the night before, to prompt her to talk about her feelings on her experience, or to ask her if she believed him now and if that made a difference to their relationship. But he hadn’t, and Grace hadn’t been ready to raise the subject either. So they’d skated around it, even though it was a bit of an elephant in the room, but it had kind of worked. She’d felt relieved she hadn’t had to scale the topic, content to climb that mountain another day. In the end, she’d left him with a kiss and a promise to return the next day for Jodi’s tuition, warmth pooling in her stomach as Nate had driven her away and she’d looked over her shoulder to see Ash standing in his doorway waving to her, smiling.
But she still hadn’t had a chance to process what Ash had revealed to her the previous night. It hung over her, huge as the UFOs over New York in Independence Day. She should totally have thought about this before she came to see her mother, but she’d already organised to visit on Saturday afternoon, and when Mia had said she’d go with her, she’d decided she wouldn’t back out. Now, she wished she had.
“That’s not a very polite thing to say when you know who I’ve been seeing,” she said defensively. She poured herself a glass of water and sat back down.
Isabella shrugged. “Sorry, love, but you know my views on that sort of thing. Anyway, I didn’t think you believed it either.”
“I didn’t.”
Isabella raised an eyebrow. “And now?”
“I…” Grace’s voice trailed off. “I’m not sure,” she said lamely. “He was very…convincing.”
“He was marvellous,” said Mia. “I believe him absolutely.”
Isabelle gave her a “why do you think your opinion matters to me” look and turned her attention back to her daughter. “What did he say to change your mind?”
“He spoke to Dad,” said Grace.
Isabella stared at her. Grace forced herself to meet her mother’s gaze.
“Oh?” The word was icy.
Normally such a freeze-out would have made Grace cave immediately, but for maybe the first time in her life, a peacefulness descended on her, and she lifted her chin. “He told me lots of things that he couldn’t possibly have known.”
“Like?”
“Like the day of Gillian’s funeral in Christchurch. About the necklaces made of shells Dad used to make me. About you and Dad dancing to ‘Brass in Pocket’ by The Pretenders at your wedding.”
Isabella surveyed her coolly. “Then he’s been speaking to people you know, or finding out the information on the Internet. You can find anything out on the Internet, you know. It’s all in the public domain.”
Knowing that Isabella had no idea what the public domain was and that she’d never Googled anything in her life, Grace frowned impatiently. “Dates of birth and anniversaries and names of my grandparents, yes. But intimate, personal details like these? It’s impossible, Mum. I don’t know how he did it, I can’t explain it, but I was there, he was right in front of me and there was no doubt he wasn’t faking it.”
“Of course he was. You’ve been duped, my dear. He’s obviously a charlatan, out to ensnare unsuspecting women, and you’ve fallen for it.” Isabella was the epitome of scorn, as if she’d expected nothing better from her only daughter.
Grace’s cheeks grew hot. “That’s unfair. You haven’t met him, Mum. He’s a lovely man—he’s kind, caring and honest. He used to be a GP. He couldn’t trick anyone if he tried.”
“My love, you are the most gullible creature in the universe. You’d believe aliens existed if someone told you they’d seen them.”
“If someone I trusted told me, I’d at least give them the benefit of the doubt,” she said hotly.
“It’s ridiculous. Speaking to the dead. Hah! Mind reading is what it is, Grace. I’ve read about brainwaves and how people can tap into other people’s memories. You’re a scientist—doesn’t that sound more like an explanation to you?”
Grace said nothing. In truth, it was a more sensible explanation, and her mother knew that thought was going through her head. Isabella smiled smugly and tears of frustration pricked Grace’s eyes.
She opened her mouth to say something, but Mia put her hand on Grace’s arm, cleared her throat and spoke first. “Hey, Isabella, I wanted to ask you, have you ever seen a necklace with the word ‘Love’ on it? Like, the word ‘Love’ in writing, hanging from a chain by two gold hoops?”
Isabella looked at her impatiently. “Yes—Bill gave it to me when we got engaged.”
Grace’s heart missed a beat. She stared at her mother. “I’ve never seen that.”
Isabella shrugged. “I didn’t like it much—too gaudy, too obvious. I keep it for sentimental reasons, of course, but I never wear it.” She looked from Mia to Grace, her eyes growing wary. “You would have seen it, though. I must have shown it to you at some point.”
“No, I’ve never seen it,” said Grace breathlessly. Her heart pounded. “I thought Dad bought you a ring when you got engaged.”
“He did. He gave me the necklace afterward, when we booked the church.” Isabella had grown pale, but there were twin spots of colour on her cheeks. “You would have seen it, Grace. You lived with me for eighteen years—you can’t tell me you didn’t come across it in all that time.”
Grace said nothing. Her heart was singing. She looked at Mia, whose eyes were full of happiness for her. Then she looked back at her mother.
“I think it’s time we went.”
Isabella’s face was a picture of disapproval. “I only want to make sure you don’t get hurt,” she said tightly. “This man is no good for you, Grace—he’s only out to trick you, and I know it’s going to end badly.”
Grace leaned over and kissed her mother’s cheek. “Thanks for being concerned for me, Mum, but you don’t know him at all. He’s lovely, and he makes me very happy. And I think it’s about time I started making my own decisions when it comes to my love life.”
“Doesn’t he have a teenager daughter? Did you think about that? You’ll be a stepmother at twenty-nine. And do you think he’s going to want children now? Don’t you want a family, love?” Suddenly, Isabella’s eyes were sad. “I want you to have it all. Life’s difficult enough without adding these complications to it.”
Grace felt a twinge of doubt deep down. It was true—she hadn’t considered these things. But she wasn’t going to admit that to her mother now. “I’ll be fine,” she said, following Mia into the hall. “I’ll bring him to meet you one day.”
She kissed her mother goodbye and got in the car, and Mia headed onto the main road and back to the centre of town.
She glanced across at Grace as she drove. “Uh-oh.”
“Yeah,” said Grace. She tipped her head back on the headrest and sighed. “Crap, this is so complicated. I don’t even know if he wants a relationship yet, and I’m thinking about adopting his daughter and having his babies.”
Mia shrugged. “That’s natural, hon. You’d be abnormal if you didn’t think about those sorts of things. You get on well with Jodi, don�
�t you?”
“Yes, but that was before I started seeing her dad.”
“I’m sure she wants her dad to be happy.”
“You’ve obviously never been a teenager. ‘Rational’ isn’t in their vocabulary. She’s had her dad to herself for years—how’s she going to take a new woman coming into his life and taking away his attention?”
“It happens all the time nowadays. There’s hardly a ‘normal’ family left anymore. Most of her friends’ parents will be divorced. Most kids nowadays have half-brothers and -sisters and stepbrothers and -sisters.”
That, at least, was true. Grace tried to force down the wave of panic that threatened to overwhelm her. She’d felt so happy when her mother told her about the necklace. Damn Isabella for making her leave on a downer.
“Don’t over-think it,” said Mia, reaching out to squeeze her hand. “You’ve just got to take it slowly, sweetie, and let everything develop at its own pace. The important thing is that you’re willing to believe in him. It doesn’t mean you have to throw out all your belief systems. He doesn’t need someone fawning all over him—it will be good for him if you retain some healthy scepticism. And you don’t have to marry him tomorrow. All it means is that now you can start dating him properly. You can get to know him without the huge barrier of your beliefs between you.”
“Yes, you’re right.” Grace tried to take deep breaths to calm herself. “I keep panicking when I think about having to justify myself, to him, and to me. I thought I had to explain to both of us how I feel about what he did last night, but I suppose I don’t have to. As you say, all it means is that I can now move forward without feeling like he’s deceiving me, and I’m deceiving myself.”
Mia nodded, smiling. “You don’t have to work it all out today. Or this week. Or even this year. All in good time. What’s happened is that your mind’s been opened, and that’s got to be a good thing.”
An Uncommon Sense: Sensual Healing, Book 1 Page 16
