Gabriela worried a pebble with the toe of her running shoe. In other circumstances, they could be looking at that land together, working out the best aspect for a house, the best view, the angle of the northerly sun. “Sure.” She sipped her cooling coffee.
“Breakfast!” Jack’s yell from the back door drowned out any reply Viva might have made. “If you don’t come now, Mumbles gets your bacon.”
He pointed to a small terrier wagging its tail on the kitchen steps.
“Mumbles is the neighbour’s dog.” Viva grinned. “He’s a bacon thief. We better go before he steals it.”
The morning disappeared with kitchen clean-up, and then they worked together to prepare and cook the lunchtime meals. It was quiet, with the only meal orders being from three road-crew workers repairing the bridge over Waggs Creek.
Once the kitchen was ready for the dinner service, Viva hung her apron on the back of the door and turned to Gabriela. “Still want to look at that land?”
It was only a fifteen-minute walk, but in the heat of the day, Gabriela’s shirt was damp before they had walked more than a couple of hundred metres. The land was on a back road that meandered around the edge of town. It was a gently sloping paddock that ended at the creek.
Viva stood by the road, hands on hips, and turned in a slow circle.
“Pretty spectacular view.” She turned to the north, where the Bunya Mountains rose up, visible in the vee of the valley. The bunya pines that gave the mountains their name were scattered over the block in twos and threes.
Gabriela moved further from the road, to where a rise provided an even better view. A cluster of gum trees gave sparse shade, and a kookaburra perched on a branch, staring at the ground in search of its next meal.
Viva joined her on the rise. “This would make an awesome house site. I’d have a big veranda looking north up the valley.”
The kookaburra darted to the ground and rose again, a skinny snake struggling in its beak.
“It would be a lovely place to live.” Gabriela’s words sounded stilted in her ears. She could picture the house in her mind: something airy and modern, with huge verandas on three sides to take in the view.
“Do you want to walk down to the creek?” Viva asked.
“Sure.”
“Watch out for snakes!” Viva led the way through the dry grass to where the creek cut a winding path.
“We ran along here earlier.” Gabriela turned full circle. “You will be able to leave your house and be on the path in a couple of minutes. It is beautiful.”
When she turned again, Viva was behind her. The sun caught the wisps of hair escaping her plait, turning them golden. Her shoulders were burnished brown by the sun.
“You’re beautiful.” Viva caught Gabriela around the waist, stepping close so she could hug her.
Gabriela sighed and let the moment drift into something more, into a kiss that was as soft and sweet and loving as any she’d had.
Viva moved away and turned to the sun once more. “If Max will subdivide, I think I’ll buy this. It’s perfect.”
“It is.” She looked around her once more, daring to dream that she and Viva would live here together. A life for the two of them, blending travel with a home that they would build together.
She snorted softly. Dream on. Her chance meeting with George had proved that.
“Gabriela.” Viva’s voice was tentative, unlike her normal assured manner. “Can we talk? I need to know why you’re here, what it means. You said we’d a week. I’ve tried not to press you, but it’s eating me up inside. Please, can you let me know what’s behind this? Something must have changed, or you wouldn’t be here. I’ve been hoping…”
Gabriela turned to stare at the view down the valley. It was easier than looking at Viva’s face. Her mouth twisted as she realised that she and Viva had been in this exact same situation before. But then, Viva had been the one holding the knowledge that would break them apart. Now it was her turn.
“I have been given my ranking for the next year. I am remaining on silver.” She focussed on a herd of cattle huddled together in the sparse shade of a gum tree. “It is not unexpected.”
“Did anyone make gold?”
“Apparently not.”
“But they didn’t demote you. You should make the level next year.” Viva’s tone sparkled with optimism.
“No one gets demoted. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Then isn’t it just a case of waiting until next year? Now that I’ve retired from singles, once the publicity dies down again, will it be okay?” Viva moved in front of her and took both her hands. “You’ve done the right thing all along. You disclosed our relationship. You can’t be blamed for the photo in the papers.”
“Not for the photo, but in the eyes of the ITF, it still casts doubt on my integrity. It was a random customer in the café who took it. Someone who recognised you.” She pulled her hands from Viva’s and folded her arms across her chest. “I bumped into one of the ITF decision makers at Melbourne Airport. He told me, off the record, that as long as you are still an active player on the tour, even in doubles, then I cannot be seen to associate with you in any way. It calls my professionalism into question. I am leaving for Malaysia at the end of the week. You are playing Indian Wells in March—and I will be umpiring.” She tightened her arms around her body, as if they were a physical defence. “So, one week it is.”
A myriad of expressions flitted across Viva’s face, ending in confusion and sadness. “You seldom officiate doubles matches. They’re done by the lower-ranked officials. It’s only the semis and finals.”
“That doesn’t matter. I could still run into you at that level. There’s not many high-level officials allocated to doubles.”
“Could you just not work the doubles in tournaments I’m playing? I won’t be playing many—my wrist won’t allow it. Maybe half a dozen tournaments a year.” Her voice held a tinge of desperation.
“You do not get it, do you? I am not sure you ever have.” Gabriela turned away, directed her words to the creek at the bottom of the rise. “You are still an active player. Potentially you could play most doubles tournaments on the tour. Fifty weeks a year if you wished. Maybe you will come out of retirement even. You would not be the first player to do so. The way they see it, as long as you are an active player in any capacity, I cannot associate with you. Not if I want the gold badge.”
“I thought…” Viva’s forehead creased. “I thought we were doing the right thing. I thought if you just avoided the doubles matches in tournaments that I’m playing, it would be okay.”
“I hoped for that too. But at some level, I always knew I was fooling myself. An official who cannot take any match, cannot at least potentially work every tournament, is not flexible, at least in the eyes of the ITF. Even if I completely avoided every tournament you are playing, not only would I be cutting my income, but the ITF would put that mark against me.” Gabriela spun back to face her. “The chances of my making gold would be even more reduced.”
Viva was silent. When she spoke, her voice was thick, as if with unshed tears. “I wondered if it would come to this. Last night, I asked myself what I’d do if this happened.”
Gabriela nodded, too afraid of her own voice breaking if she said anything more.
“What if I retire from doubles? Back out of all the tournaments I’ve entered?”
“Then there would be no problem. But if you came out of retirement—”
“That won’t happen.”
“But if you did, it would go against me again. But if you are not on the tour as a player, then there is no conflict of interest.”
“That’s what I thought before. That if I retired from singles, we could make it work.” Viva’s voice held an edge of misery. “Would the ITF object to you being with me and me being friends with Michi? Would even that level of as
sociation be suspect?”
“As long as I was not friends with her, it would be okay.”
Viva paced away so that she could see further down the valley. “I brought you here because I wanted to see if you liked it too. If you could ever see yourself living here. Not all the time, not at first, but in between tour commitments. A week here, a week there. The long break at the end of the year. I thought maybe, just maybe, we could make it work. You, here. Us, together on the tour when I’m commentating.”
Gabriela bit her lip. Longing rose in her throat, thick and intense, so much longing she couldn’t swallow it away. Viva’s words were everything she would have hoped for—before. Before it all fell apart.
“Is that what you want, Gabriela? Would you take that, if you could? Or is this just a week of sex before you go back on the tour?”
She glanced sideways at Viva, who was facing her, her thick plait over one shoulder, twisted in her fist.
“Yes. I would take that, if I could. In the past, I’d hoped…”
“You’re sure?”
Gabriela nodded. “I thought we had something, you and me. Something between us to build a relationship on. I am not sure it was ever just about sex. There was always the potential for more.” She shrugged. “I cannot put a name on it. I cannot say I love you or that I would have been with you forever or that I would have married you. But maybe we could have been all of those things to each other.”
“I saw all of those.” Viva’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I’d dreamt of us together. I at least wanted to try.” She flung out an arm, encompassing the land where they stood. “Would you want to live here? Or would you want to be in Spain?”
“Spain is beautiful. But I’ve always thought of living in Australia someday.”
Viva fished her phone out of her pocket. “If I retire from doubles, would you at least give us a chance? This must be a final answer, Gabriela. I’m asking you now, very seriously. Would you be with me?”
“I would be with you.” She said the words steadily, with certainty that came from the heart.
Viva glanced at the phone. “There’s good mobile reception here. Always a consideration when deciding where to build a house.” She scrolled through her address book and connected a call.
Gabriela took a pace away to give her privacy. She had no idea what Viva was doing, but the sincerity in her eyes had unfurled a new tendril of hope.
“Michi?” Viva’s voice came clearly across the space between them. “How’s it going in Japan?” She closed the distance again and pressed a button on the phone.
“Good.” Michi’s reply came loudly across the speaker. “I’m in the quarterfinals. And guess who I’m playing. Alina Pashin. I’m almost tempted to let her win after that last conversation with her. Almost.”
“You won’t.”
“No, of course not. Where are you?”
“Waggs Pocket. Looking at a block of land.”
“Ohhh, you’re serious about the Australian dream, then.”
“I am. I’m here with Gabriela.”
“Gabriela?” Michi’s voice rose. “So, you’re back together?”
“You’re on speakerphone, Michi. But yes, we might be back together. And that’s why I’m calling.”
“You’re pregnant.” Amusement hummed in Michi’s tone.
“Don’t be daft.” A sideways glance at Gabriela. “Not yet, anyway. I’m calling about something more immediate. I’m retiring from doubles. Effective immediately.”
Viva was retiring. Gabriela stared at her speechless. The landscape swirled about her for a moment, as her world tilted on its axis.
“Is it your wrist?” Michi asked.
“No, I have a heart complaint. One that won’t let me play any sort of tennis on the tour.”
“Your heart?” The anxiety in Michi’s voice came through clearly. “Viva, are you okay? Have you seen a specialist?”
“I’m seeing her right now. The only person who can cure me. I’m not sick, but I must retire completely so that I can be with Gabriela. I’m sorry to do this to you, but it means I’m pulling out of Indian Wells and every tournament after that.”
She meant it. Gabriela clenched her hand to stop her fingers from trembling.
“Don’t be sorry,” Michi said. “That’s the best reason ever.”
“It’ll be official. I won’t play again on the tour. No coming-out-of-retirement comeback tour for me.”
“A good idea. Leave that to aging rock stars.”
“What will you do about doubles? Will you be able to find a partner at short notice?”
“Don’t worry about that. I partnered with Paige when you were injured. I know she’d like that to continue.”
“I’ll cheer you on from the commentary box.” Viva took Gabriela’s hand, sliding her fingers underneath Gabriela’s clenched ones. “I have to go, Michi. I have other calls to make, and then I have to convince Gabriela once and for all to be my girlfriend.”
“Don’t waste another minute! We’ll catch up soon. Bye!”
Viva slipped her phone back in her pocket. “One call down, five to go.”
“You’re serious about this?” Gabriela fought to keep her voice even. Her mind turned over Viva’s words, wondering if she was misunderstanding their meaning. “You’re really closing the door on tennis—for me. You could have many years more of doubles. Look at Martina Navratilova. She won doubles grand slams when she was in her forties.”
“I’m no Martina. Maybe I’d play for years. Maybe not. But even if I could play for another twenty years, that’d mean I’d lose you. Or you’d lose your chance of gold badge.” She smiled. “It’s not worth it, Gabriela. I don’t want that. I want you. If you’ll have me.” Her voice shook.
There was no mistake. Gabriela sucked a quick breath, and the joy expanded in her chest, pulsing through her body. She tightened her grip on Viva’s fingers. “I do. So very much. If you’re sure.”
“Never more so.” Viva moved closer, the sun behind her turning the loose strands of her hair to a burnished gold. She cupped the back of Gabriela’s head with her free hand and urged her closer.
Gabriela leant in, and their lips met. It was gentle; it was a promise. It was passion.
They broke apart, and Viva said, “I have other calls to make.” She scrolled through the phone contacts again and pressed a number. “Hi, Deepak, it’s Viva…”
By the time they returned to the pub, there was only one call to make. Viva had contacted Deepak and the rest of her team, Shirley, and Tennis Australia. The only remaining call was the most important one of all: to the International Tennis Federation. Viva looked up the number for their headquarters in the UK.
“Lucky the time difference is in my favour.” Viva stared down at her phone, at the numbers illuminated on the screen. She pressed the call button and put the call on speaker.
Gabriela waited for the call to pick up. It was truly happening. Every one of Viva’s calls made it more of a certainty. She searched Viva’s face for any sign of regret, but there was only firm resolve.
At first, no one at the ITF seemed to know who had to take the call. “You don’t have to call us to retire,” one assistant said. “An email is fine, as a courtesy.”
“I’m aware of that,” replied Viva, “but on this occasion, it’s necessary.”
“Ask for George Kostantis,” Gabriela whispered. “He’s the person I bumped into at the airport. He’ll talk to you.”
“One moment,” the assistant said when Viva asked for George. “I’ll see if he’s available.” The phone clicked over to the hold music.
Finally, George came on the line.
“Mr Kostantis, this is Genevieve Jones calling.”
“How can I assist, Ms Jones?”
“I’m calling to advise I have retired from professional
tennis, effective immediately. Singles and doubles. I’ve notified my agent, my coach, and my doubles partner. I’m aware of the formalities, but I’d like it on record immediately. My agent is in the process of arranging a press conference.”
“I see. Can I ask the reason for this? In particular, why you felt the need to call?”
“The wrist injury that forced my retirement from singles is one reason. The other, though, is to avoid a conflict of interest for my partner.”
Partner. The intensity in Viva’s eyes showed her commitment.
Gabriela bit her lip. She shouldn’t be surprised that Viva didn’t do things by halves. Her single-mindedness, though, was heartening. Viva was doing this for her.
“Oh?” George’s voice held no trace of surprise.
“As of now, my partner is Gabriela Mendaro. She continues to officiate at matches. I don’t want there to be any difficulties for her because of our relationship. Hence, I’d like it on record that I am no longer an active player in any capacity.”
“I see. Thank you for letting us know. And Ms Jones, please send my best wishes to Gabriela.”
“I will indeed. I’ll confirm this in writing later today.”
She ended the call and turned to Gabriela. “It’s done. It feels good. Very good.” She moved over to the balcony railing and gripped it with both hands. “Celebratory good. We might have to see what Jack has in the way of bubbles.”
“We didn’t drink the bottle he left last night,” Gabriela said.
“Let’s swap it for a cold one. We should celebrate the end of my career and the start of something new for us.”
Us. The word sat delicately in Gabriela’s mind. She rested her hand over Viva’s where it clenched the railing. “Us. I never thought this would be possible.”
Viva turned towards Gabriela. Her face was lit with a smile, her warmth and enthusiasm displayed on her face. “I hoped. So much.” She lifted their joined hands and brought them to her lips in an old-fashioned gesture. “I’m yours.”
Code of Conduct Page 28
