Vivian's Return

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  She frowned. Seven? Oh lord! Dinner!

  Too late. She was committed now.

  “Seven,” she repeated.

  * * * * *

  I should have known he would bring me here.

  Vivien looked around the elegant restaurant, with its wrought iron balcony balustrade and the signature terracotta tiles.

  El Coronado. Where else would he take her? It had been their favorite restaurant.

  But Vivien had still been surprised and even a little dismayed, when Paul had pulled into the familiar car park. The dismay puzzled her and kept her occupied all through the seating and ordering of the meal—paella, of course and a chilled dry white wine.

  Even Paul seemed a little distracted at first but then it passed and he spoke easily and naturally. Their conversation wasn’t strained—far from it. Vivien found she spent most of the time talking about herself, about her life and her career and all the myriad little tales that filled out a full picture about her life.

  Paul listened carefully, his eyes on her face and it struck Vivien that they were playing out the early stages of their relationship all over again. They were learning about each other all over again. It was as if the old relationship had laid a solid foundation, on top of which they were building another structure. Would it be a better one this time? Would it be stronger? She pushed the question aside. It was one she could only answer at the other end of the week.

  But the realization showed her the reason for her earlier dismay. She was reluctant to go back to exactly what they’d had before and El Coronado had figured largely in their past.

  Several people came up to their table to say hello. The restaurant was not busy, for it was Monday night but there were still quite a few customers. Most of them were businesspeople and had dealt with Paul, but a number of them knew Vivien...or knew of her.

  Paul would introduce the latter to her and Vivien would watch as their eyebrows lifted and recognition flooded their faces. It was an uncomfortable feeling, knowing that strangers had heard of her and it was a reminder of the tight, interwoven connections in Geraldton. Everyone knew everyone else here.

  The familiar and customary juxtaposed with the new underlined a change in Paul’s behavior. By the end of the meal, Vivien realized that he had not touched her once. This was so unusual as to be extraordinary. Even in public, he had thought nothing of holding her hand and caressing her face, or stealing the odd kiss.

  Although their relationship had altered and Paul’s old habit of caressing her as he wished was inappropriate now, Vivien found that thanks to the familiar surroundings, she had been expecting it anyway. When they rose to leave, Paul came around to her side of the table but he did not take her hand, as he would have once. He simply stood waiting for her. He didn’t slide his hand around her waist as they walked out.

  There was a glitter in his eyes that spoke of silent laughter or mischief and Vivien knew he was deliberately withholding himself.

  It didn’t prevent her from missing his touch. What else did he have in store for her?

  On Tuesday, she found out.

  Morris stuck his head out of his office door. “Paul, the council just rang. There’s a VIP arriving on the ten o’clock plane, they want him brought straight into town for the meeting that’s supposed to start at ten.”

  Paul was sitting in front of the radio equipment. He swiveled around to glance at the wall clock and then got to his feet and reached for the keys to the Gazelle that hung from their hook on the key board.

  He tossed them to Vivien. Without thinking she snapped out her left hand and snagged them. She saw Morris smile.

  “Why don’t you go?” Paul said.

  “Me?”

  “Sure.”

  Vivien looked down at her pale green miniskirt and the ivory blouse. Work the foot pedals in this? “I’m not dressed properly.”

  “So put your jacket on. You’re dressed enough to make the VIP feel special, which is what the council is looking for.”

  She glanced out at the helicopter. It had been ages since she had gone up.

  “All right,” she agreed. She pulled the jacket off the back of her chair and slid it on. She didn’t do up the button for the jacket had a tight waist and she’d need flexibility while she was flying. She realized that she was excited. It had been too long.

  She walked out to the helipad and climbed into the Gazelle. The early morning sun was dazzling but the tinted canopy cut back most of the glare. She settled herself into the seat, started up the engine and slid on the headset, then grasped the controls and waited for the engine to build up revolutions before taking off.

  She glanced at the office building. Paul was standing at the big picture window, watching. She couldn’t see his expression properly. Given that the helicopter was sitting facing almost square with the window and the canopy wrapped from over her head to under her feet, Paul was probably getting a stupefying view of her legs thanks to the miniskirt. Working the foot pedals meant she had no room for modesty. Vivien didn’t care. It was compensation enough to be flying.

  She lifted the helicopter up off the ground, hovered at one hundred feet and turned it toward the airport. She pushed it forward, simultaneously climbing up to a more appropriate height.

  What joy to be flying again! Is that why Paul had given up this flight? To remind her of what she would gain if she stayed in Geraldton? She hadn’t specifically told him last night that she missed regularly flying but she had spoken of excessive paperwork and red tape. Had he put two and two together? Was this another facet in his campaign?

  Who cares? I’m flying again!

  On the way to the airport she radioed back to the office and asked for the name of the VIP, then sent ahead to the air control tower for permission to land. She arrived with five minutes to spare, which gave her time to repair the damage the headset had imparted to her French braid and to straighten her clothes. She headed toward to the terminal building, aware of the startled glances some ground staff sent her when she climbed out of the helicopter.

  Brian Corman, the VIP, was recognizable. A harassed man in a business suit, carrying a heavy briefcase and a suit bag. Vivien walked right up to him. “Mr. Corman?”

  “Yes?”

  “The council sent me. I’m here to take you to the council chambers.”

  He looked deeply relieved. “Thank god! The meeting starts right now. What’s the traffic like?”

  “It looked busy on the way out,” she responded, smiling. Her suit had deceived him. “This way, sir,” and she held her hand out toward the side door that gave quickest access to the helipad.

  When he saw the helicopter, he nodded. “Good idea!” he muttered. Vivien stowed his suit bag and briefcase behind the front seat. He settled himself into the seat. “Where’s the pilot?” he asked.

  “You’re looking at her.” Vivien shut the door on him and walked around to the other side and climbed in.

  “You?” he spluttered.

  “Me.” She smiled and put on her headset and offered him the other pair.

  He ran his eye over her, reassessing. “Well, well. This is service,” he said, smiling.

  By the time Vivien sat the helicopter down on the roof of the council chambers building, Brian Corman had got over his shock and was smiling and relaxed. He was whisked away by staff already waiting and Vivien took off, alone again.

  She flew directly out over the water and approached the company buildings from the sea side. The water looked beautiful—calm, green and sparkling in the sun. She wished that she had time for a joyride but her desk awaited her. Regretfully she returned directly to the office.

  Paul raised his brow inquiringly when he saw her. “Enjoy yourself?” he asked, confirming her suspicions that he’d let her take the Gazelle to remind her of what she would be returning to.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said coolly and tossed the keys back at him.

  He caught them, just, and smiled. “Good,” he murmured, returning them to t
he board. Jenny watched him, a faint puzzled frowned puckering her forehead, before returning to her computer.

  The phone rang before she could begin typing again and she answered it with a formal lilt. “Batavia Air Charter.” Then she smiled. “Hello, Carlos.”

  Paul crossed to her desk, to take the call there.

  Jenny put the call on hold and looked at Vivien. “It’s for you.”

  Surprise flickered across Paul’s face.

  Vivien picked up her phone and switched the call over, aware than Paul had crossed his arms and was frankly eavesdropping. “Hi Carlos.”

  “Vivien, hi. Listen, I’m sorry to disturb you at work and all that but it’s Mama.”

  “Maria? What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know. She’s not throwing china again. She’s not doing anything. But I think you should talk to her. She doesn’t want to talk to us.”

  “I’ll come over straightaway,” she promised and hung up. She stood up again.

  “I’ll take you,” Paul said, digging for his car keys.

  “I know the way,” Vivien said gently. “And I have a car.”

  He grew still.

  She picked up her bag. “I don’t know how long I’ll be,” she told Jenny.

  Paul was scowling.

  “As soon as I know what’s going on, I’ll let you know, okay?” she said.

  He nodded curtly.

  * * * * *

  Maria lay on her bed, a damp tissue clamped in her fingers. Vivien sank onto the edge of the bed.

  “Hi, Mama Maria.”

  Maria sniffed. “Ciao, Vivien. Carlos sent for you?”

  “Yes. He’s worried. So am I. What’s wrong?”

  Maria’s face crumpled and fresh tears swelled up in her eyes. “I have a job interview!” she wailed.

  Vivien held back the relieved laughter that threatened her composure. “But that’s wonderful, Maria! Congratulations!”

  “It isn’t wonderful at all!” Maria cried. “I can’t do this! I’m old. I want to stay here. I don’t need a job!”

  “No, you don’t need one but you want one, don’t you? You want to get out each day and be useful to other people beside your family, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” Maria said in a small voice.

  “Well, then,” Vivien replied, patting her shoulder. “You’re just scared, that’s all. It’s okay to be scared, so long as you don’t let the fear stop you doing what you want to do.”

  “No? Is okay?”

  “Sure. Here—” She coaxed Maria to sit up and wiped her face with a fresh tissue. “When is the interview?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  Vivien smiled. “So what are you going to wear?”

  Maria frowned thoughtfully. “They wear things like you’re wearing?”

  “It depends on where you work.”

  “I would not look good in such a fancy suit as that one,” Maria said doubtfully. “All I have is black.”

  “Black is fine,” she assured her. “Where’s the interview?”

  Maria pulled her notebook off the bedside table and put on her reading glasses. With one last tremendous sniff, she got down to business.

  * * * * *

  Jeremy phoned back from Canberra early the next day, Wednesday. “You can thank me later, Vivien. I’ve managed to reschedule your presentation for Monday morning. It means you’ll have to catch the red-eye from Perth on Sunday night.”

  Vivien could feel a warm rush of relief circle through her. “Thank you,” she said. “I can drive down from Geraldton on Sunday, so it fits in perfectly.”

  “Just don’t mess up this one, Vivien. This is the Australian Senate we’re talking about here.”

  “I won’t,” she promised hastily.

  With a curt goodbye, Jeremy hung up and Vivien replaced the phone, feeling a large weight lift from her shoulders. It appeared she had not burned any bridges, yet, although she knew that she had singed that particular one.

  “Jeremy wasn’t pleased, I gather?” Paul’s voice said dryly, from behind her.

  Vivien turned in her chair. Paul was sitting on the edge of Jenny’s desk, his long legs pushed out in front of him, his hands in the pockets of his black trousers. It was barely eight in the morning and he already had his tie loosened and the top two buttons of his collar undone—as if he was only wearing the epaulette shirt and tie just to suit everyone else’s idea of a pilot. Above the loosely hanging tie Vivien could see curls of dark chest hair and olive skin. She fancied she could see the outline of his torso underneath the shirt, silhouetted by the early morning light streaming in through the big picture window behind him.

  Stop that, she told herself. “Good morning,” she said, priding herself on the calmness of her tone.

  Jenny emerged from the staff room, bearing two large steaming coffee mugs. She handed one to Paul and put the other on her desk by his hip.

  “Thanks, Jenny,” Paul murmured, smiling at the blonde, with a slow easy grin.

  Jenny smiled back. “You’re late. Jack left at five, like you told him to and apart from that it’s been as quiet as a funeral parlor. Waste of wages having me come in so early.”

  “You can leave early if you like,” Paul said and sipped his coffee.

  Jenny glanced at Vivien before settling down behind her desk. “No, it’s all right. I’ll stay ‘til five as usual.”

  Until I leave too, Vivien realized, interpreting the glance Jenny had sent her. She may not know precisely what had happened on the weekend but she would know about their past relationship and she would be suspicious. It was inevitable that she would have heard stories about Vivien and Paul around town—Geraldton’s bush telegraph worked with deadly efficiency and the townspeople had long memories. Jenny was going to keep a careful eye on Vivien until she could safely wave her goodbye and take back her man.

  Vivien felt a little trickle of guilt for the hurt Jenny may possibly have to deal with in the near future. If only Paul wasn’t so blind to Jenny’s feelings. The girl loved him, Vivien was sure.

  Troubled, Vivien returned to her work.

  Chapter Eleven

  As Paul was returning to the office after a meeting in town, Vivien was leaving. He saw her come out through the glass door, her long legs swinging, heading for the big tank of a car that she drove.

  Disappointment touched him. The office felt empty if she wasn’t there and it seemed he was going to miss her. He pulled his car up next to hers and hoped he would have the chance to speak to her before she left. He climbed out of his car, hurrying but trying to appear casual.

  She was waiting for him. “At last. I was hoping to speak to you before I went to lunch.”

  “Oh?”

  “Can you come to Carlos’ place about five tonight? Your mother wants to see all of us.”

  Paul grinned. “To talk about her job interview? Of course. I’m curious to hear how she does.”

  Vivien smiled, too. It was a shared moment of pride devoid of any secondary meaning, unlike many of the moments this week, where hidden undercurrents pushed around shoals of innuendo. The moment was uncomplicated and nice.

  “Can I take you to lunch?” Paul asked. It would be good to be able to repeat that simple moment a few times over.

  “Just me?”

  “Yes. Just you and me.”

  Vivien looked back toward the office. “No, I don’t think so, thank you.” She opened her car door and climbed up into the driver’s seat and reached for her door. She smiled at him before shutting it and Paul watched her drive away.

  The one major change in Vivien, the one thing he had not noticed until this week when he’d smashed up against it, was her incredible strength of will. She had always been courageous and brave and physically a strong woman but her fortitude and determination now outweighed all that. In every respect except physical, she was at least Paul’s equal. In many ways, including her strength, she was his superior.

  He looked for any hidden resentment at that fact, found n
one and was glad, for his admiration for Vivien had grown in leaps and bounds this week. Her quiet way of getting things done, her steadfast refusal to compromise her ideals and priorities, the air of confidence she exuded—he had never met anyone who seemed truly at peace with themselves, until now. He even admired the simple, non-aggressive way she had refused his lunch invitation.

  In seven years she had outstripped him. All he had to show for his seven years was a business that was only partly his own and a set of battle scars.

  She was worth any amount of battle scars. Worth fighting for? Absolutely.

  His fear was that he was no longer worthy of her, that even if he won the current battle, she would find him wanting.

  Paul took a deep breath and shrugged aside the dismal thought. He was who he was.

  He went into the office, blinking in the sudden dimness after the dazzling noonday sun outside. Jenny smiled hello and handed him his messages. “Have you had lunch yet?”

  He shook his head, as he flipped through the yellow slips of paper.

  “I was about to go up to the cafe on the wharf. Would you like to come?”

  “No, thanks.” Paul studied one of his messages, frowning over Jenny’s handwriting. “I’ve got to leave early, now, so I want to get—” He held out the message. “What does this say?”

  Jenny leaned over her desk and cocked her head sideways to read the message. Her hair brushed against his wrist. “That word? ‘Whenever’.”

  He reread the message, absently rubbing away the tickling irritation of her hair. The message made sense this time. The he realized that Jenny had spoken. “Sorry?”

  “I said, ‘What about tonight, then?’ I’m in a good mood. It would be nice to go out, eat, and soak up some night air somewhere.”

  Paul shook his head. “Thanks but I’ve already got an appointment. That’s why I have to leave early.”

  “An appointment? At night?” Jenny laughed. “Another woman, Paul?” Her voice was light, teasing.

  “Yes. My mother.” He smiled back at her and Jenny laughed again and sank back down behind her desk. But the laugh never reached her eyes.