Damien watched her from the corner of his eye and thought that even the way Jacqueline ate was amazing: delicate and thoughtful, only opening her mouth enough to carefully slide the fork between her full, pink lips.
‘Hey, I’m really sorry about before,’ she finally said. It had been ages since she’d spoken and he was becoming desperate to hear her beautiful voice again. Her real voice, not the voice of his shrink.
‘No worries,’ he said, and pretended to be really interested in his plate.
‘We … um … we had a night out together once. We were never an item,’ she said slowly. ‘Um … thanks … for not asking.’
‘None of my business,’ he shrugged. He couldn’t believe how normal he sounded when really he was the cat being slowly tortured by curiosity.
‘He’s why I moved out here. He stalked me. The police said they couldn’t do anything unless he actually physically assaulted me …’
‘Did you get one of those restraining orders or something?’
‘I couldn’t without concrete proof.’
‘What … exactly … did he do?’
‘Moved things around. Just so I’d know he’d been to my place, I guess.’
‘You mean he was in your house!’ Damien was shocked.
‘I didn’t actually see him, thank God. If he was just trying to scare me it bloody well worked.’
‘Did you get your locks changed?’ He knew he sounded like the protective big brother, but so what?
‘Yep, and moved house several times. Didn’t make any difference though. We met at the prison – he was in for housebreaking.’
There was that strained, twisted smile again. Damien found himself wondering if it was Jacob’s tattoos Jacqueline had been attracted to enough to spend an evening with him, or maybe he’d kept them covered and she hadn’t seen them. It certainly wasn’t his demeanour, from what Damien had seen tonight. And he didn’t think Jacob was even that good looking. Not that he’d know, he didn’t look at blokes in that way. Why did the creeps always seem to get the nice girls?
‘Anyway, so here I am,’ she shrugged, then tried to hide a yawn with her hand.
‘Shit, it’s getting late. I’d better be off. Will you be alright on your own?’ He didn’t want to come across as sleazy, but couldn’t leave if she was still scared. ‘I could sleep on the couch.’
Was he pushing it?
‘Um …’
Damien reckoned she was thinking what he was thinking; that the whole town would know by morning and would have got the wrong end of the stick.
‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’
He could tell she was pretending to be strong, but that was her choice. The offer had been made.
It was only just becoming light outside when Damien woke. Squish was beside him whining. The poor thing probably needed a leak. God he was stiff and sore. The ute was definitely not the most comfortable place to sleep. And cold, where was a hot summer night when you needed one? There was even condensation on the inside of the windows. He got out of the vehicle and stretched his legs while the tiny dog squatted and did a wee on the grass. Hopefully that’s all he needed to do. Luckily he’d parked on Auntie Ethel’s side of the street. She wouldn’t freak out at a little dog poo on her grass. He could ask her for a bag later if need be.
Squish hopped back into the ute and Damien closed the door. He felt like crap, like he’d had a night on the turps. It was still early, he could use a bit more of a snooze. He didn’t think anyone would be up and about for a while yet.
He was just closing his eyes when he noticed a shape at the passenger’s side window. He reached over and wound down the window. Oops, speak of the devil. Auntie Ethel was standing there in a long red tartan nightie with a pink cape around her shoulders looking all sleepy-eyed and dishevelled. Not unlike his state, really. Squish was struggling to get up to the window and be friendly. Damien grabbed him so he wouldn’t jump out.
‘Er … hi … Auntie Ethel.’
‘If you needed somewhere to stay, you should have come in. You know where the spare key is.’
‘Yeah I know, but it was late and I didn’t want to wake you.’ He was kidding himself if he thought she didn’t know he’d been across the road at Jacqueline’s. Nothing escaped Auntie Ethel.
‘So, what’s going on?’ she asked, tossing her head in Jacqueline’s direction.
‘Um … Not much.’
‘Come in for breakfast and tell me all about it.’
‘Nothing to tell.’
‘Crap, you’re watching her place like a hawk.’ And he was. A beat-up old Commodore had just parked down the street a bit. Didn’t look familiar, but the bloke getting out sure did.
‘Can you just go inside? I’ll be there in a sec.’
‘Just tell me what …’
‘Please!’ He hissed, slinking down in the seat and holding up a silencing hand while trying to keep his eye on Jacob Bolton.
Christ, he was walking up to her door, bold as brass. Ethel let out a big sigh and wandered back down her driveway. What should he do? He had to think.
Damien got his mobile out of the glovebox. ‘Bill? Damien McAllister here. Yeah, sorry it’s so early. Look, I’m at Auntie Ethel’s, across the road from Ms Havelock’s, and … well, that bloke from last night, the one that was hassling her … Yeah, that’s the one. He’s outside her house. She told me he used to stalk her back in the city. Thanks. Yes, I’ll leave you to it. No worries.’
Jeez, Damien hoped Bill would be quick. Jacqueline had just answered her front door and he could see she looked scared shitless. Adrenalin drew Damien out of the ute and across the road.
From the corner of his eye he noticed Mrs Caffey was in her driveway checking things out. As he turned back he saw the paddy wagon roaring around the corner into the street. Thank Christ for that. Damien was standing next to Jacqueline’s car in her driveway when Bill strode across the lawn.
‘Police! Jacob Bolton, you’re under arrest for breach of parole!’ Bill boomed, as he stormed towards the house. To Damien he sounded like a cop in a movie. Jacqueline appeared on the porch, ashen-faced and dressed in what looked like her pyjamas. Damien instinctively ducked down behind the car just as Jacob Bolton grabbed Jacqueline.
Bill stopped in his tracks and Damien instantly saw why. Bolton held a knife to Jacqueline’s throat.
‘Come any closer and the girl gets it,’ Bolton growled.
Still on the lawn, Bill raised his hands in response to Bolton’s threat. Damien wanted to yell, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ but knew the last thing he should do was to reveal himself if Bolton hadn’t already seen him.
Watching through the car’s windows, he thought his heart would break for poor Jacqueline. She looked terrified, like she could buckle at the knees at any moment. Then he heard Squish whine. Shit. He hadn’t pushed the ute door shut; he’d been trying to be quiet. The puppy came bounding across the road, yapping. He ran up the driveway towards Damien. Damien waved an arm to shoo him away, but that just made Squish more intent on joining whatever game was being played.
Distracted by Squish, Bolton turned, momentarily dropping his guard. The country cop lunged, tackled Bolton around his legs, and knocked him to the ground. The knife landed a couple of feet away on the lawn. Bill had Bolton down on the lawn and was handcuffing him.
Damien ran to Jacqueline. She was still standing on the porch, pale and ghostlike. From his position under Bill, Bolton was shouting obscenities at her. Damien practically shoved her into the house and onto the nearest couch, where she just sat looking stunned. He’d been a little rough, but he hadn’t wanted her listening to Jacob’s foul language.
‘Thanks,’ Jacqueline whispered, and melted into the couch. Damien remained standing, not sure what to say or do. From the lounge room window he watched Bill put Jacob in the paddy wagon, and couldn’t help thinking it was probably the first time the cop had used cuffs in his twenty years in the town.
Then his auntie Ethel ru
shed inside and was at Jacqueline’s side, an arm around her, and asking her if she was okay. Damn. Damien realised too late that should have been him.
Jacqueline nodded and said she was fine. But she didn’t look fine. Up close Damien could now see she was even shakier than the night before, and had obviously been crying. Had something happened during the night while he’d been parked across the street? He hoped not. Red marks lined her cheeks and her eyes were dull and puffy. All Damien could think was that she couldn’t look anything but totally gorgeous. He was definitely falling in love.
His breath caught when she looked up and smiled weakly at him.
‘Seriously, thanks,’ she said, brightening a little.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ he mumbled, and dropped his head. He suddenly felt like a tongue-tied teenager trying to talk to a girl for the first time.
‘Well, if you hadn’t distracted Jacob …’
‘Oh.’ The penny dropped. ‘That was Squish, not me.’
‘Well, you were here last night and this morning, so thanks, for everything.’
Damien noticed his auntie Ethel looking up at him with raised eyebrows. He shrugged in answer.
‘Well I guess a cup of tea is in order,’ Ethel said, and got up.
As soon as his auntie Ethel was out of sight, Damien went to Jacqueline. He only meant to ask her if she was really okay, but instead found himself putting his arms around her and kissing the tears from her cheeks. Shit. He shouldn’t be doing this. He pulled away slowly, embarrassment creeping scarlet up his neck and into his ears.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled.
‘It’s nice you care,’ she said, and Damien realised she was smiling at him, really smiling, with her eyes, not just being polite.
But bloody hell, now he’d stuffed everything up. He wondered if he could still be her patient. It wasn’t like he’d slept with her, or anything. His head started to whirl.
‘Here we are, white with one,’ Ethel said, handing Jacqueline a cup.
‘Well I’d better be off, Squish’s probably starving,’ Damien said. He got up to leave, but it was the last thing he wanted to do.
‘Are you still coming for your appointment later?’ Jacqueline asked.
Damien stopped. ‘Yeah … all right.’ He was glad his back was to her and she couldn’t see how big his grin was. Phew, he sighed.
‘See you then, then,’ she said.
Chapter Sixteen
After an hour of Ethel’s fussing and two cups of tea Jacqueline bade her farewell, telling her she didn’t want to be late for work. Ethel had urged her to take the day off, but Jacqueline insisted she was fine. The last thing she wanted was to give Jacob Bolton the satisfaction of disrupting her life and, anyway, she certainly didn’t need to give Doctor Squire more ammunition.
‘I don’t want to be late,’ she added as she gently herded Ethel towards the door.
Now as water beat upon her head in hot needles and ran in warm, comforting rivulets down her, she wondered what would have happened if Damien hadn’t spent the night in his ute keeping an eye on her, which, according to Ethel, was exactly what he’d done. But she didn’t need to wonder, because he had been there.
‘And wasn’t he?’ she thought. ‘Those strong arms … Mm, bless him,’ Jacqueline sighed, pouring milk and honey shower gel on a loofah and beginning at her neck and working her way down each arm and then her breasts in smooth circular motions.
She stopped at her stomach. A strong tingling pulse tugged in her groin and a pleasant tightness rippled in her chest below her ribs. It was a combination of sensations she hadn’t felt for what seemed an eternity, and hadn’t been sure she would again. Smiling, she sighed deeply.
After rifling through her wardrobe a number of times, Jacqueline finally settled on a jade green tailored linen skirt and bright geometric print shirt in moss green and rose pink. The outfit was revealing only in the colours it brought out in her eyes and lightly tanned skin.
At her desk, Jacqueline couldn’t concentrate for nerves. She was excited at the anticipation of seeing Damien, but also concerned Jacob had been set free and, furious, would come after her. Her mind was finally put to rest when there was a knock at the door and Bill Hanson entered.
‘Just wanted to let you know Jacob Bolton is on his way back to Adelaide. There were a number of warrants out on him, without this morning’s indiscretion. They’re pleased to have him back under lock and key,’ Bill said, proudly.
‘Thank you so much,’ Jacqueline sighed.
‘No worries, glad everything turned out okay. Well, be seeing you,’ he added, and was gone.
Jacqueline leant back in her chair and focused on feeling the tension and fear drain down through her body and out the soles of her feet. Free, she was finally free. She realised it felt good to have Damien sharing her secret, and sighed contentedly.
She was quickly brought back from her thoughts by a sharp rap on her door, followed by Doctor Squire’s entrance. Her breath caught in her throat. News travels fast around here, she acknowledged silently.
She mumbled a greeting and waited, slightly bewildered, while the doctor casually poured himself a coffee from the pot she had set up on a tray with mugs, milk and sugar on top of the nearby filing cabinet. She was stunned, and could barely murmur her thanks when he placed the filled, steaming mug in front of her and prepared another for himself. The knot in her stomach was being wrung tighter and tighter and she wanted to scream, but she remained silent, instead concentrating on tracing the intricate blue and white pattern on her mug in an attempt to appear unfazed.
Glancing at her clock she realised only a minute or so had passed. This is ridiculous, she silently told herself. Call yourself a psychologist? You’re the one who’ll need professional help if you don’t get a grip. Finally Doctor Squire was seated opposite her, remarking upon the taste of real coffee. Jacqueline nodded and mumbled casually in reply.
‘Now Miss Havelock, I just wanted to congratulate you on your success. These talks you’re giving are making a big difference, according to the local grapevine.’
‘I …’ Jacqueline began, but was cut of by a silencing hand.
‘I know they’re not exactly beating a path to your door just yet, but it will happen. The thing with country folk, men in particular, is they take a while to warm to outsiders. But they will. It’s just a matter of time, you mark my words.’ He drained his coffee cup before continuing.
‘So, I just wanted to say keep up the good work. Well, must be going,’ he said brightly, pushing his chair back and placing his empty cup on the desk. ‘And don’t worry, all in good time, Miss Havelock,’ he added, giving a wave as he left.
Jacqueline, astonished, stared at the back of the door open-mouthed. Had she heard right? Doctor Squire wanted her to keep up the good work? Her breath escaped loudly, releasing the tension she’d been holding onto. She’d been given another chance.
Her thoughts returned to Damien, and after a few moments reluctantly admitted she owed it to him to keep her feelings to herself and continue to help him through his problems. Like Doctor Squire said, the young men in particular took a while to warm, and Damien finally had. She had to remain available for him to complete his journey, no matter how long it took.
By the time Damien knocked on her office door and entered, Jacqueline was no longer nervously awaiting him and was instead engrossed in making notes for prospective talks. Looking up, she was so taken aback with his appearance she almost gasped and, before she could stop herself, enthusiastically said, ‘You look great.’ He’d obviously made an effort for her, and Jacqueline felt guilty for what she was about to do to him.
‘Um, thanks. You too,’ Damien replied, obviously surprised and a little uncomfortable.
‘I’m sorry, please, sit down,’ she said, adopting a more professional tone and indicating the chair he’d sat in every other time.
She hoped he hadn’t noticed the strawberry flush that was creeping its way towards her collar.
There was silence and Jacqueline found herself staring involuntarily at his shirt. She couldn’t believe it – it was the same white and navy bold stripe punctuated with fine burgundy pinstripe that he’d been wearing in the dream she’d had the other night.
Forcing her mind back to the present, she suddenly realised Damien was speaking.
‘Are you okay now? I mean, everything’s sorted with that Jacob bloke, right?’ Damien asked tentatively.
‘I’m fine thanks. Bill told me he’s safely locked up. Anyway, we’re here to talk about you.’ The pull of guilt told her she’d been too abrupt.
‘Um … okay,’ Damien said, sounding a little confused.
‘I’m sorry, it’s just that …’
‘Yeah I know, patient rules,’ he said, sounding hurt.
Jacqueline desperately wanted to tell him she was falling in love with him and that they could be together just as soon as he got over his problems and no longer needed her professionally, but doing so would compromise the professional distance she needed to maintain. His treatment could not be destroyed by her emotions.
‘I’ve got everything sorted,’ he blurted.
Jacqueline’s breath caught. Could he be referring to what she’d just been thinking?
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, calming her voice in an effort to sound even more distant and professional. But she needn’t have worried; Damien was playing the part of the patient well.
‘Well,’ Damien said, obviously trying to decide where to begin, ‘After last time I was here, I went home and did a lot of thinking about what we talked about. I don’t know why I never realised before but I was sitting there thinking about Dad and I realised.’
‘Realised what?’ Jacqueline prompted, sensing he’d stalled.
‘It was Squish, really. You know how when you say things aloud they become clearer? Anyway, I realised I was never meant to be a farmer. Dad only did it kind of by default like Grandpa and, well, I’m only here because Dad died and it just seemed the right thing to do.’
Wattle Creek Page 20
