Three Words: A Novella Collection (36 page)

*****

I walk home
alone along the beach. It’s a full moon and the beach is as
brightly lit as if it was day. Crystals of quartz are glittering in
the sand like tiny diamonds in the night. I feel good. Comfortable.
Not exactly happy but content.

My mind turns
to Nicholas. Should I think it odd he said he lived in this
direction and yet he didn’t offer to walk me home? Maybe he was
lying? Maybe he’s the one who’s married and he’s trying to conceal
the truth. Maybe he won’t turn up in the morning because he
realises how much baggage I carry and he’s not prepared for that
type of commitment. That’s why he didn’t want me to see his house.
If I don’t know where he’s staying, I can’t drop in now, can I?

I hear my
voice going round and round in my head and I know how silly I
sound, how lacking in confidence. Nicholas is a nice guy. He was
concerned enough to stop on the beach earlier, so what motive would
he have for lying? I need to stop overthinking and just
breathe.

At last, I
reach the door of the cottage. The light from the lamp is shining
through the window and I put my key in the door, dump my stuff,
flip off my shoes and head to the bathroom. It’s then, as I’m
looking at my reflection in the mirror while cleaning my teeth,
that I realise I haven’t thought about Mum in about five hours. In
fact, now I am thinking about her, I’m not crying. I’m smiling. If
nothing else happens between us, I have Nicholas to thank for
that.

Chapter 2

The next
morning is swelteringly hot. The sun is a huge melon coloured orb
in the sky. As I walk along the side of the road towards the dock I
see the heat rising from the footpath and a rippling haze over the
bay. It’s going to be a scorcher. Along the end of the timber jetty
I see Nicholas, as he promised. He’s on the deck of a small ketch,
fiddling with a rope. He’s wearing cream shorts and a pale blue
linen shirt that’s crinkled at the back from where he’s been
sitting. A pair of aviator sunglasses perch on his nose. His hair
is mussed like he just got out of bed, which he probably did and he
looks boyish and charming. My heart skips in excitement as I
approach. I’m not sure if this is a good sign. I haven’t been
romantic with anyone for a while and the anticipation is making me
feel quite immature and giddy. Not like me.

I stop near a
collection of boats bobbing gently on the water.

“
Morning!” I call, and give him a tentative wave. No matter
how attracted I feel to Nicholas, I’m wary. It could be that I
don’t know him well enough or maybe it’s that he’s different. I’ve
never met a man like him before, let alone been with one. He’s so —
well — confident, like he knows where he stands in the world and
deserves that place. It’s not about his looks; it’s the aura he
puts out. I think if I let him, he’d have the ability to swallow me
whole, lead me in a direction that could be termed ‘astray’. In a
good way, of course. Nothing illegal.

Nicholas looks
up. He ties a hasty knot in the rope he’s holding and grins at me.
It’s a broad smile and I find myself returning it.

“
Nice boat.”

“
She’s a yacht. A ketch if we’re being specific.”

Ooh
, I
knew that, I knew that. I am not a complete maritime moron.

He motions for
me to board. “Hop on.”

I am not sure
how I am meant to do this. Crazy as it sounds I’ve never been on a
yacht before. My life has been led with my feet safely on terra
firma. I’d never even been on a plane before I turned eighteen. It
wasn’t by choice though. I always wanted to do stuff, try new
things but Mum wasn’t keen. She liked to stay in our local
neighbourhood, figuring that if nothing ever changed she couldn’t
get any nasty surprises. Mum spent entire weeks in the garden and I
loved to help but sometimes I longed for the adrenalin rush brought
about by a surprise. Since she’s been gone, I haven’t had to worry
about upsetting her with my decisions. My choices and mistakes are
my own. Not that I’ve done anything outrageous but I kinda like the
idea that I can if I want to and nobody will tell me off. Except my
conscience.

I scan the
side of the yacht for a gate or something. “How?”

“
I gather you’re a boating novice.”

“
You gather correctly.”

“
Jump. You’ll be fine. Here.” He holds out his
hand.

I toss my
holdall onto the deck and take the proffered hand. I step in the
direction of the deck, aiming to look dainty and alluring and as I
do the boat lurches and moves a metre or so away from the dock. I
am thrown — or maybe yanked — against Nicholas’ hard chest. Again.
This is becoming something of a habit.

His arms are
instantly around me, holding me tight. It’s not the worst place to
be. I gaze up into his eyes and try not to laugh at the cliché-ness
of the situation.

“
Phew,” he says, “You nearly went in the drink then.” His grip
tightens as he steadies me. My heart beats a little
faster.

Okay, I’m
lying. It’s pounding like I’m front row at a Daft Punk concert and
the vibrations from the bass speakers have invaded my entire
body.

“
You did that on purpose.”

“
I may be good at saving damsels in distress, but I don’t
fancy myself as controller of the weather. It was the tide
shifting.”

“
Hmm
.”

He releases me
and walks along the other end of the deck and as he goes I hear him
snickering to himself. He,
so
, did that on purpose. He’s
probably seduced a hundred women with that very technique, damn
him. I’m going to have to watch myself or I might become number one
hundred and one. I pick up my bag and follow along behind.

At the stern
of the yacht there is a small well with seating and a steering
wheel. Honey-coloured timber trim delineates the space and a door
leads below, to what I gather is a cabin area. I know it probably
has some technical yachting name but that’s what I’m calling it.
For now.

“
Welcome to the
Constance
.”

“
It’s a pleasure to be aboard. She really is a beautiful
thing.”

“
I inherited her from my grandfather. I used to sail with him
a lot. It caused something of a family feud when I got her
and
the shack. My father hasn’t spoken to me since and my
uncles wanted to take me to court because the inheritance was worth
a chunk of money. But they never had any interest. They wouldn’t
know the difference between a mainsail and a spinnaker.”

I regard him
blankly.

“
Guess you don’t either?”

I shake my
head.

“
I’ll have to teach you.” Nicholas takes my bag and stows it
under the seat at my feet. “Did you sleep okay after our big night?
You vented a lot.”

“
I had a lot to get off my chest but yes. I slept better than
I have in weeks. Didn’t wake once.”

When I finally
got to sleep.

The first two
hours of bedtime were filled with images of Nicholas. Like a
schoolgirl, I stared at the ceiling, replaying every minute of our
time together in my head. Conversations were dissected and analysed
until I was positive the vibe I was getting was the one I
was
getting. It’s a dangerous preoccupation, I know, to
become so attached to a person so quickly, but I feel drawn to
Nicholas. Inexplicably so.

“
So you dreamt of me then?” he jokes.

“
I think the quality of my sleep had more to do with the fresh
night air and the copious amounts of alcohol,” I quip. “And no, I
didn’t dream of you.”

Not for the
entire night.

“
Way to crush a guy’s ego.”

I toss him a
disbelieving look. “I think that’d be unlikely. You seem fairly
sure of yourself, Nicholas.” I pull my bag out from its hiding
place and take out a bottle of sunscreen. I squirt some on my arms
and face. I put on my hat. I’m ready for this adventure. I’m hyped
by the whole idea of it. “So what’s the plan?”

“
I have to be back by lunchtime, so it’s just a quick trip.
And introduction to sailing, if you like.”

“
Cool. Will we go fast?”

Geez, I sound
like a five year old. In my defence I have seen yachts scooting
across the river on my way home from class. It looked like fun but
I never dreamed I’d be on the water myself.

Nicholas
chuckles at my enthusiasm. “Sorry. There’s not enough breeze to
raise the sails so we’ll be motoring. I hope that’s okay. At least
it’ll be calm. Wouldn’t want you getting sea sick on your maiden
voyage and ruining the experience.”

It doesn’t
take me much to imagine that embarrassment. Once I threw up out the
window of a taxi because I had no other choice. I tried to convince
the driver it was food poisoning but I don’t think he believed me.
Not when I was spewing creamy cocktails down the side of his
car.

Nicholas hands
me a life jacket and shrugs into one of his own. It’s a hideous
shade of safety yellow and rather bulky but he doesn’t look any
less gorgeous. I’m crushing on this man and I’m scared that I am.
I’m usually so sensible. He makes me want to be anything but. His
eyes only have to land in my general direction and I feel like
jelly. Very excited, fizzy jelly. If there’s such a thing.

“
Problem?” He’s facing me again, a quizzical look on his face,
noting I haven’t put my vest on yet. I must seem like a halfwit,
standing here looking at the life jacket like it has five armholes
and not knowing where to start. He doesn’t seem to care though.
He’s being very diplomatic about my ineptness.

He steps
closer. “Allow me. The average life jacket is not designed for ease
of wearing.” He helps me into each arm and I breathe a relieved
sigh that he’s being so nice, when this would be the perfect
opportunity to tease.

Nicholas
slides the zipper slowly toward my neck; his smoky blue eyes are
trained on mine. It’s like he’s having sex with me with his eyes.
Having reached the top, his fingers linger for a moment at my
throat. He must be able to feel the way my pulse has increased. He
must. I swallow and try to ignore the throbbing that’s started
somewhere in my underwear and the burning sensation of his fingers
on the tender skin of my neck.

“
There,” he says. “Gorgeous.”

My thoughts
exactly.

“
If looking like a human life raft can be considered
gorgeous.” I titter, suddenly wishing I hadn’t.

And the moment
is gone.

“
Right, let’s get this show on the road.” Turning away,
Nicholas switches on the motor and directs me to untie the ropes
nearest the jetty that he calls the spring lines. The ropes are
awkward and heavy. I’m proud of myself for handling them as he
tells me, especially after making such a fool of myself over the
jacket. As we motor into the bay, he instructs me to take the helm.
“Just keep her pointed in the same direction while I go and secure
the lines. It’s as simple as driving a car. I’ll be back in a
sec.”

Easy for him
to say. I’m pretty sure he didn’t fail his driving test three
times. I take the wheel.

Having made
sure the ropes are where they should be and everything is
ship-shape, Nicholas leaps into the cockpit behind me. I shuffle
aside for him to take control of the wheel but he declines. “You’re
doing great. A little to starboard.” He grins and leans across,
adjusting the wheel slightly to the left. His body presses gently
against mine. Fissures of electricity race up my spine.

Why is he
teasing me like this? It feels
sooo
good, too good. I glance
out the corner of my eye to see if he’s as affected as I am but
he’s simply humming and gazing at the horizon like he has girls on
his yacht every day and this is standard practise. If this is the
case, I will not give him the satisfaction of seeing how on fire he
makes me feel. I will keep my grin firmly under wraps. He can
suffer too.

“
Are you all right? You’re trembling,” he says.

“
You make me tremble.”

Where did that
come from? Now my mouth is losing control.

“
In a good way I hope.”

God, I want to
kiss him, I really do.

As we motor
quietly along, Nicholas’ hands come to rest on mine. His chest is
leaning into me. His cheek is nestled against the side of my head
and I feel his rhythmical breaths close to my ear. He smells of
soap and fabric softener or the way fresh towels do after they’ve
come off the clothesline. It’s homely yet there’s nothing homely
about him. He’s way too manly for that.

The yacht
glides across the bay and around the tip of land towards a small
island in the distance. I relax against Nicholas’ body, enjoying
the feeling of closeness. Then, and I’m not positive — I may be
hallucinating again — but I think I feel his lips on the side of my
jaw, just below my ear. It’s only a peck and one I’m not even sure
occurred for when I turn my head to him, he’s staring at the
horizon, zoned out. I know I said I wanted the adrenalin rush of
new experiences but this is something else. I’m not sure I’m up for
this… this seduction. At least I think it’s a seduction.

Is it a
seduction?

“
So, tell me about your mother,” Nicholas whispers against my
hair. He doesn’t move or look at me. He simply talks. “I know,
after my Mum passed away, I found it helpful to talk. Despite what
they say about guys not being great talkers.”

I told him
stuff last night, but this one sentence is like the catalyst for
unleashing every emotion and thought of the past year. As we watch
the clouds moving across the sky, I tell him how it happened, how I
feel about it. I share my feelings of loneliness and guilt that —
even though I know I shouldn’t have any guilt — I was out having
fun while my mother was dying. I even tell him of my thoughts of
suicide; my brush with the pill bottle and how I wish people would
stop treating me with kid gloves.