Older Man

by Bright, Laurey;

  "I know the feeling,” Grant said dryly. “Believe me, those instincts can bring a man a whole heap of trouble."

  This time Rennie did look at him, sure that he was deliberately needling. There was a gleam of affectionate humour in his eyes, inviting her to laugh with him. He was reminding her of the revenge she had planned after their first meeting. But too much had passed between them since then. She gave him a frosty, indignant stare, and the humour was replaced by a rueful sadness.

  "It's time we were going,” she said abruptly. “Thank you for the supper, Grant. And it was good to meet you again, Lorna."

  It had been, too. Lorna was a nice, caring person, capable of showing concern for a girl she'd never even met. Rennie scolded herself for allowing that depress her.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Several days later Rennie was curled up on her bed with a stack of study books when Shane came into her room.

  "It was the boyfriend,” he said. “Kevin."

  It was maybe a second before she made the connection. “You've been talking to Amanda?"

  "I phoned her. Met her downtown. Got her to talk to me eventually. She told Kevin she didn't want to see him again, and he hit her."

  Rennie made a disgusted exclamation and Shane said, “Yeah, I was tempted to go and sort him out, myself. But you know me. One of nature's little cowards."

  "You're not!” Rennie said loyally. “But it wouldn't have done any good."

  "I know. He'd have beaten me to a pulp. As far as fighting goes, I hardly know my right fist from my left. Anyway, Amanda won't be seeing him again."

  "Good,” Rennie said. “That's very sensible of her.” She wondered if Amanda was going to be seeing her brother, instead.

  Each time Rennie visited Grant's house she was overwhelmed by a sense of his presence, even when he wasn't there. And she kept looking for signs of him in his children, in Toby's grave and considering expression, in Ellen's smile.

  She was just making things harder. She was pretty good at dispensing advice, she told herself, but maybe she ought to put her own life in order. She had to stick to her decision to ease herself out of Toby and Ellen's lives. But it was very hard letting go.

  All the final year students were beginning to look hollow-eyed and haunted. Rennie curtailed a social life which she had to admit had not filled the empty spaces left by Grant and his children.

  Glad that mid-year exams required her concentrated energy, Rennie tried to push all thoughts of Grant from her mind. When the exams were finished and she surfaced from a sea of text-books and lecture notes and timetables, her mother said casually one day, “What are you planning to wear to the legal ball this year, Rennie? Your father's offering to subsidise a new dress."

  "I ... hadn't thought about it.” The legal ball. Where she had met Grant a year ago. Only a year. But it seemed an age. So much had happened in that year. She had grown from a girl into a woman, for one thing. Learned to love a man. And to go on living after losing him. “I don't think I'll go,” she blurted out.

  "But we always go. And now, in your final year? Why don't you want to?"

  "I just don't feel like it,” Rennie said vaguely. “I'm tired."

  Her mother looked at her shrewdly, and Rennie was almost tempted to tell her everything—or nearly everything. But now she was all grown up, capable of coping with her own problems, supposedly.

  "You've worked very hard this year,” Marian coaxed. “Maybe a night out is just what you need. Shane's coming too. I think he wants to impress Amanda."

  Amanda and Shane had been a twosome for a while now. Rennie recalled his relief when he'd told her that Amanda was actually seventeen. “I asked her mother,” he said. “And her father finally agreed to meet me."

  He too, seemed anxious for Rennie to attend the ball. “The only balls I've been to are school ones, and they don't count, with the teachers egging you on to ask every dog in the hall to dance ... and Amanda's ... well, I want her to have a good time."

  "Mum and Dad will be there."

  "Yeah, and they'll be surrounded by people. Older people! We won't know anyone in our age group."

  "Okay,” Rennie finally capitulated. “I'll go if you want me that much."

  It wasn't until some time later that she wondered if their mother had put him up to it.

  Ethan and Celeste arrived in Auckland again a few days before the ball, and when they called round, Frank offered them tickets.

  Ethan glanced at his wife. “Shall we go? A sentimental occasion? If it hadn't been for the legal fraternity and their annual celebration, we might never have got together again."

  Celeste smiled. “Yes, I'd like to."

  "Fine.” Frank smiled. “You'll join our party, of course."

  Rennie was glad there was to be a party of them. After some thought, she had invited Larry Townsend to accompany her. She had been seeing him now and then, but kept the relationship casually friendly. It wouldn't have mattered in the least if she went to the ball on her own, except that Grant might be there. Somehow for him to see her without an escort would be galling.

  It was also, somehow, necessary for her to appear as dazzling as she possibly could. She accepted gratefully her father's offer of help to buy a dress for the ball, and spent a lot of time choosing one.

  Black, she decided. Black with her creamy skin and flaming hair would be dramatic. And also sophisticated. She found just what she wanted, a ruched chiffon sheath with a beaded bodice, that hugged her curves and showed off her legs and had a long floating scarf that fell over one shoulder and left the other bare. She wore it with a row of fine gold bracelets and no other jewellery, and twisted her hair back from her face, letting the ends fall free.

  Even Shane whistled when she appeared, holding a beaded black evening purse. “Knock ’em dead, Sis!” he advised.

  Larry had obviously made an effort too. In a hired suit and with his hair trimmed for the occasion he was a very presentable escort.

  Shane was riding with them, and they were to pick up Amanda on the way. “Shane,” Marian had said to Rennie, a smile in her eyes, “would really appreciate not having to pick up his date in his parents’ car. At least, not with the parents in it. We're taking Ethan and Celeste with us, so I thought Larry might oblige."

  In the event, they all arrived more or less at once. The evening was already underway, the band playing while several couples circled the floor. Many of the tables were occupied, and there were people congregated at the bar. Others milled about on the carpeted area at the entrance to the hall, waiting for friends or debating on the best place to sit and whether they should visit the bar first or not.

  Shane introduced Amanda to Ethan and Celeste, and Rennie did the same for Larry, with rather less anxious enthusiasm.

  Frank, taking charge, said, “Over there. That's James Powell waving at us."

  Following the others through the crowd, it wasn't until they arrived at one of the tables that Rennie saw James and his doctor wife, who was seated alongside their son and his girlfriend. There were other people as well, some of the men busy moving two tables together for the enlarged party. Near James stood Grant Morrison, looking very distinguished in evening clothes. And at his side Lorna, elegant in a cream silk dress. Rennie's mouth dried and she took a quick little breath to steady herself before looking at Grant. She was sure she had felt his eyes on her, but when she raised hers he was smiling at her mother.

  James beamed at them all and there was a flurry of introductions. “You know Grant Morrison?” James assumed. “And Lorna—sorry, love, can't remember your last name. Frank—Marian—you can congratulate these two on their engagement."

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  I've never fainted in my life! Rennie told herself fiercely. And she wasn't going to do it now. But this sudden clammy dizziness certainly felt remarkably like what she imagined fainting to be.

  Grant wasn't looking at her when her eyes flew to his face. Ethan's hand was on her arm, even as she distantly heard J
ames Powell saying, “My son here is getting married."

  Ethan moved, blocking off her view of Grant. “Hey! Isn't this our song, Rennie?” he asked. “We can't let that pass. Excuse us, everyone! We'll join you later."

  And his arm was about her, solid and comforting, as he urged her the few steps to the dance floor, which was quite crowded now, and turned her to face him, that arm holding her, bracing her against him so that she couldn't fall. After the first few fumbling steps her feet automatically followed the dance. She let her head rest on Ethan's warm shoulder, and the cold dizziness gradually receded.

  She said, “Our tune?” And raised her head.

  He smiled down at her, very kindly. “It was all I could think of. Better now?"

  "How did you know?"

  "I happened to be looking at you. Everyone else's attention was on the happy couple. You rather gave yourself away, I'm afraid, young Rennie. For a minute there you thought it was Grant Morrison who was getting married, didn't you?"

  She bit her lip. “You don't think anyone else noticed?"

  He shook his head. “I shouldn't think so. Your mother, maybe. But she could hardly ask you to dance."

  Rennie gave a wavery ghost of a smile. “No. Thank you, Ethan. I'm grateful for the rescue."

  "Any time.” He kissed the top of her head. “He's a lot older than you."

  "Oh, don't you start on that!"

  "Sorry. Your parents?"

  "Not them. Grant. He seemed to think there was something immoral about me being so much younger."

  "So it wasn't entirely one-sided,” Ethan said thoughtfully.

  "No. Not entirely.” Although Grant had not felt a tenth of the emotion she had expended on him. If he had, he would never have been able to let her go.

  "Have you been having an affair with him?” Ethan asked bluntly.

  "No such luck,” Rennie confessed forlornly.

  "Rennie!” His shock was tempered with amusement. “I must admit, it would have surprised me. I'd guess he's an honourable man. Hardly likely to seduce a young girl living under his roof."

  "An honourable man. Oh, yes. It sounds almost biblical.” Rennie made an effort at a smile. “Are they sitting at our table?"

  "I'm afraid so. You'll be all right. You've got guts. And you have friends.” He smiled down at her as the music stopped. “Okay?"

  She took a deep breath. If nothing else, she had her fair share of pride. “Okay."

  Ethan gripped her hand. “That's the way."

  "Please, can we get a drink first?"

  He laughed sympathetically and steered her to the bar, where he accepted without comment her demand for a large gin and tonic, and got himself a glass of wine.

  Slipping into the chair by Larry she said, “Sorry, I didn't mean to desert you. Ethan is a very old friend.” Across the table Rennie saw her mother looking at them anxiously. Oh, shoot, she thought. Was I that obvious?

  The worst of it was, Grant might have noticed, too. It was a humiliating thought. She lifted her chin. Pull yourself together, she admonished herself. And smile!

  The band was warming up, and had started belting out a tune with a heavy beat, bringing the younger contingent onto the floor.

  "This music is too good to waste,” she suggested to Larry. “How about we get on the floor?"

  "Sure,” he said, getting up immediately.

  Rennie threw herself into the dance, relying on the music thrumming in her ears, and the movements of her body, to numb her mind and her emotions. When the tune finished she applauded loudly, and as the musicians launched into another, she took up the beat with renewed energy, moving her feet, hips, shoulders to the music.

  She saw that Grant was dancing with Celeste, and dragged her gaze away from them, smiling at Larry and tossing her head, the loose curls swinging against her shoulders. Larry grinned back.

  But when the bracket closed with a drum roll and the band took a break, she followed him back to their table.

  Grant was talking to Celeste and Ethan. He glanced up as she sat down, giving her a piercing look, but she returned him a bland, determined smile before lifting her gin and tonic.

  The music began again. She held onto her glass, both hands curled around it. Grant got up and moved across to her.

  "Dance, Rennie?"

  She wanted to say no, she had to say no. But what excuse could she make, in front of all these people? She turned to Larry, hoping that somehow he would rescue her, but he totally misunderstood.

  "Go ahead,” he said generously. “I don't mind."

  Grant said with dry courtesy, “Thank you.” His hand was on her arm, lifting her from the chair, guiding her to the dance floor.

  Then his arm was around her waist, his other hand holding hers close to him, his breath stirring the short tendrils of hair at her temple.

  "How have you been, Rennie?” he asked. “Really?"

  She was sick of telling people she was fine, fine, fine. What if she told him how she really felt, screamed out her rage and pain at him, right then and there?

  But of course she couldn't. And anyway, he wasn't be blamed for her feelings. Or his lack of them. The pain was entirely her own fault. And she had no right to be angry with him. He had never tried to deceive her about how he felt. He had never said he was love with her, although he hadn't denied it either. He had, by implication, told her that being in love was not an incurable condition. And he'd presumably had an antidote in Lorna.

  She said, “I'm fine. And you, obviously. Are you and Lorna a twosome?"

  His gaze flicked over to the table where Lorna was talking to Rennie's father. “You could say that."

  "She's a lovely person."

  "I think so, too."

  She wanted to ask, Do you love her? Do you kiss her the way you kissed me? Does she love you the way I do?

  She glanced up fleetingly, and saw that he looked troubled. Humiliation made her squirm.

  She laughed. It sounded genuine. “Of course, you were quite right,” she said. “Much as I hate to admit it. I had a crush on you.” She grimaced. “I got over it, just as you predicted when you thought I was yearning over Ethan."

  "Did I?” he asked. “I seem—” he paused to clear his throat “—I seem to remember that you thought I was fairly crass in saying so."

  "I've grown up since then."

  "Yes,” he said in a strange tone. “I've noticed."

  And about time! she thought. For once he was looking at her as though she was more than ten years old.

  They danced in silence for a while, and she let herself relax in his arms. The lights were low, only flickering colours playing across the dancers, and the tempo had slowed. She closed her eyes and allowed a bitter-sweet pleasure to take over.

  His hand moved on her back, and she snuggled closer. And felt his sudden withdrawal, his hand stilling.

  Rennie drew away. She said, “How are the children?"

  After a moment he said, “Good. Both well. You haven't been round in a while. They—we all miss you."

  "They're all right, aren't they?” she enquired anxiously. “You said they're well."

  "Yes. They're not distressed about it. I told them you were busy. How did your exams go?"

  "Okay. No results yet, of course."

  "I'm sure you've passed with flying colours. Next year you'll be qualified."

  "Yes. Will you be pleased?"

  "Of course I'll be pleased for you."

  "Are you going to marry Lorna, after all?” she asked suddenly, without thinking. Hastily she tacked on, “She'd be a good mother."

  "I know she would,” he said in a strange tone, his eyes searching hers. “The children like her."

  Rennie felt sick. What are you doing to yourself, girl? she thought wildly. Digging your own grave? “That's nice,” she said brightly. “So, are you going to announce your engagement?"

  "I haven't asked her yet,” Grant said.

  Yet. The sick feeling grew in intensity. “I see."


  "Do you?” His eyes looked cold now. He had distanced himself. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. “And you're still seeing Larry,” he commented.

  "Now and then. I see a lot of people."

  "Men?"

  Her heart skipped a beat. She smiled into his eyes. “Some of them."

  "You will be careful, Rennie, won't you?"

  "Not to get myself raped, you mean? I've learnt my lesson. You made sure of that. You taught me a lot that I'm not likely to forget."

  "Rennie—” He hesitated, searching her eyes. His weren't cold any more, they were troubled and there was something in the depths of them that made her want to cry.

  Still smiling, she said, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't tease."

  "Is that what you're doing? Teasing?"

  "What else? I can't help it, sometimes, when you're being—"

  "Pompous?” he suggested, a glint of grim humour in his eyes displacing the disturbingly sombreness.

  "I didn't say that."

  "You'd better not even think it!” He was smiling too, making an effort to keep things light.

  "Or else—” Rennie finished for him. “What?” she asked innocently.

  But equally suddenly the humour disappeared, his face closing. “You are incorrigible,” he said softly.

  "And what are you?” she said recklessly. “Susceptible?"

  "Evidently.” His tone was clipped.

  So, no matter how he tried, he still wasn't completely indifferent to her. But even though she could momentarily get under his skin, he wasn't about to lose that iron control of his. Unless...

  She danced closer to him, linking her arms about his neck, her eyes challenging. Her body moved against his.

  Softly he said, “Cut it out, Rennie.” His face went tight as if he was in pain.

  "Does it bother you? Larry likes it."

  His jaw clenched angrily. “I said, cut it out!” His hands closed on her wrists, pulling them away.

  "What a prude you are,” she mocked him.

  "I wouldn't start name-calling,” he warned her. “You might hear a few you wouldn't like."