When Harriet Came Home (9 page)

She gritted her teeth and kept on walking without a backward glance.

Adam leaned back in his chair at The Royal Oak. The bar was packed, and the committee meeting was running overtime. All the last minute complications relating to the Harvest Ball had to be dealt with. He glanced round the group, his expression calm. Inside, he was churning. He felt himself twitching and squirming—like he was wearing a hair shirt.

Not a hair shirt though. Harriet. Damn her. He pushed her image away, refusing to think about her. He couldn’t afford the time.

“Something bothering you?” Tristan piped up beside him.

Adam frowned at his cousin, who had shown up at the meeting with Portia. “Didn’t know you’d be up here two weekends in a row.”

“I’ll be here next weekend too, of course, for the ball.” Tristan took a swig of beer and relaxed in his seat. “I need a break from the city. Stockbroking can be so exhausting.”

Adam ran a critical eye over his cousin. Tristan was slim and sleek like a well-fed seal, with the satisfied look of a financially secure man and just a hint of an incipient jowl. Working for an investment bank would do that to a guy. If things had turned out differently and he’d finished that finance degree, he would have had a similar lifestyle, clocking up long hours in an air-conditioned office, raking in six-figure bonuses, playing golf with his colleagues, dating high-maintenance women, driving European sports cars. He rubbed the hardened calluses on his palms. Stuff all that. He couldn’t imagine leading that kind of life. He was glad he’d ended up here.

“Adam, we need to discuss the auction prizes.” Moira’s impatient voice broke through his musings.

He turned his attention back to business. Auction prizes and tickets and the band. Moira rattled on, and finally the meeting was over. Good, Adam thought. He could use a drink now.

Tristan poked him in the side. “Look who just walked into the beer garden.”

Adam glanced through the window to see Harriet entering the outdoor courtyard. His chest constricted at the sight of her. It took him a couple more seconds before he realised she was with her entire family—Ken, Sharon, Cindy, Jarrod and even Brett, Cindy’s husband. Ken relinquished his crutches and sank into a seat. He looked happy to be out, and his face brightened when he drew Harriet into the chair next to him. She wore a purple skirt and matching sweater, while Cindy had poured herself into tight white jeans and translucent silk shirt.

Tristan uttered a faint groan. He gazed out the window with a longing expression. “I think I’m in love.”

Adam decided to be deliberately obtuse and grimaced at his cousin. “Mate, she’s married with a three-year-old kid.”

“Not Cindy, you idiot.” Tristan chortled. “I’m talking about Harriet. She’s a sweetheart.”

A black fog descended on Adam. “You never looked twice at Harriet before.”

“I was an idiot,” Tristan sighed, his eyes still glued on Harriet. “There’s something about her that makes me feel all puppyish.”

Adam knew Tristan well. He fell in and out of love constantly and never let it bother him. But there was something about Harriet… Adam couldn’t take his eyes off her either. She wore the same purple skirt she’d had on when he’d bumped into her in the hospital parking grounds that very first night. In the bright sunshine her hair and skin glowed. His gaze roved over her shapely calves as his mind drifted back to yesterday afternoon in his cottage. How soft and warm and seductive she’d felt in his arms. She’d smelt of cinnamon and sugar, a scent that had melted all his defences. Her kisses had driven him crazy, pushing him to the very edge of his control. Now, all he could think about was how he wanted to kiss her again, to brush those full lips of hers with his.

His fingers tightened around his beer glass. He had to stop obsessing about Harriet. He’d never let any woman consume his thoughts like this. Especially a woman who thought he was a little twisted. Maybe she was right. He’d grabbed hold of Harriet and latched on to her lips without a second thought. He was lusting after the woman responsible for his father’s public humiliation. What would Dad have thought?

Adam chugged down his beer without tasting it. He studied the foam lacing his empty glass.

His dad had never said a bad word about Harriet, not to Adam, not to anyone. His dad had been a very forgiving man, except when it came to himself.

Ah, shucks. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He should just let it go.

But he couldn’t, because he couldn’t forget how Harriet had kissed him back. The physical attraction he’d felt definitely wasn’t one-sided. Then again, what was the point in pursuing a woman who never wanted to set foot in Wilmot again? Who was hell-bent on running back to Sydney as soon as the Harvest Ball was over?

“I’m thinking of asking her out,” Tristan said.

Adam rounded on his cousin with a heavy frown. “What?”

“When she’s back in Sydney, I mean. Do you think she’ll go out with me?”

“Who’re you asking out?” Portia slipped into the seat next to Adam, a wineglass dangling between her manicured fingers.

“Harriet.”

Portia made a moue, the corners of her lips pulling down in distaste. “You can’t get involved with
her.
”

“Why not?”

“Because you’d be nothing to her except a feather in her cap.” Portia flipped back her mane of blond hair and fixed her brother with a hard glare. “She’d be able to go around boasting that she’d landed Tristan Ellerston, the most eligible bachelor in Wilmot.”

“She wouldn’t do that,” Adam interrupted, unable to help himself. “Harriet’s not like that.”

“Oh, isn’t she?” Portia transferred her gimlet stare to Adam. “Seems to me you don’t understand women as much as you think you do. Women like to notch up trophies just as much as men do. And she’s no exception. She may be quiet, but the quiet ones are always the most dangerous.” She leaned toward Adam. “And you, my dear cousin, would be the ultimate bragging prize for her.”

“Portia, you’re exaggerating. And you’ve got Harriet all wrong.”

“She ruined your father ten years ago, and now you’re defending her?” Portia shrugged and tossed off the remnants of her wine. “Seems to me she’s already got you by the short and curlies.”

He felt the muscles in his neck knotting up as he struggled to remain civil. “Harriet is doing an outstanding job filling in for her father,” he said through clenched teeth. “That’s the only reason she’s hanging around here. As soon as the ball is over, she’ll be heading back to Sydney. So show some manners and stop bad-mouthing her.”

Portia opened her mouth to retort, but the expression on his face must have warned her off, because she shut her mouth and gave another shrug. Head throbbing, Adam swung away from his cousin and glanced out the window again.

The table where Harriet sat with her family had grown more crowded. Several friends of her father had joined them. Ken was basking in the company, but Harriet appeared less at ease. In fact, to Adam she looked like a woman desperately wishing she was anywhere but here.

The hallway outside the principal’s office at Brescia High held the timeless funk of dirty socks, rotting apples and rampaging teenage hormones. Harriet had smelled it all before. She stood waiting for the principal to emerge from his office and studied the class photos lining the walls. There was a photo of each graduating year, right back to the start of the seventies when the school had been built.

With morbid curiosity she searched out her own year photo. Yep, there she was, sitting in the front row as usual because of her lack of height. Her overgrown fringe and big glasses obscured most of her face, but you could still see she wasn’t smiling for the camera. Her face was glum, her arms like frankfurters, straining at the seams of her shirt, and her legs were planted in front of her like two giant marrows. Harriet shivered and rubbed her arms, as if she needed to reconfirm that the fat really had disappeared.

Someone stopped behind her. The prickling of her nape told her it was Adam.

“Seems like another lifetime ago, doesn’t it, these old photos?” he said over her shoulder.

“Sometimes.” She turned to him slowly. “Sometimes it seems like only yesterday.”

It was Monday, and they were meeting to brief the students who would be helping out at the Harvest Ball. Harriet schooled her facial expressions as she scanned Adam’s face, anxious for some clue as to how to behave after their last encounter. He looked back at her calmly enough, though there was a hint of tension in his jaw.

“I suppose you never thought you’d find yourself back here,” he said. “Thanks for coming.”

She’d been worried about seeing him again so soon after their aborted make-out session on his couch. Now she eased out a silent sigh of relief. It appeared wary politeness was what he was aiming for. Very well; she could do wary politeness too.

“It doesn’t look as if much has changed around here.”

Apart from the hairstyles and the electronic gadgets, little had changed at Brescia High. The smells, the draughty corridors, the boys with their shirttails hanging out, the beautiful girls sauntering past eyeing Adam, all so familiar. Even the principal, Dr Frobisher, looked the same when he emerged from his office and led them down to the classrooms.

Twenty or so students waited for them, chattering and shrieking as only sixteen-year-olds could. They quietened down when Dr Frobisher introduced Harriet and Adam. Harriet addressed the class first, explaining about food handling safety and demonstrating the proper way of serving food, then it was Adam’s turn to give a rundown of the ball’s schedule. While he was still speaking, Dr Frobisher was called away and was still absent when Adam finished his talk.

“Any questions?” Adam asked, raising his voice as the class shifted restlessly. The students had been sitting and listening for well over twenty minutes, so it wasn’t surprising they were getting antsy.

A boy at the back flicked a wad of paper at the wall and leaned forward. “Hey, are you the Adam Blackstone who holds the school record for the most goals scored in one season since, like, forever?”

“I didn’t know that record was still around.” Adam looked nonplussed.

“Man, you’re a legend.” The boy nodded in approval, and the entire class stared at Adam with fresh interest.

“Did you used to live in Blackstone Hall?” a girl with braces piped up from the front. “You know, that fancy place just out of town?”

“I live there now.”

“No, get outta here! Aren’t you afraid of ghosts?”

“What ghosts?”

“They say some old man shut himself in there and refused to see anyone because of something or other. He died there all alone, and now his ghost wanders around the house. That’s why no one wants to live in it anymore.”

Adam stiffened. “There aren’t any ghosts,” he said, his voice clipped. “My father died in hospital, and he wasn’t alone.”

“Your father?” The girl goggled at him. “But I thought the old man died like a hundred years ago.”

Harriet’s lungs began to burn, and she realised she’d been holding her breath. She took one look at Adam’s disconcerted expression and leaped in front of the class. “You really shouldn’t pay attention to small-town gossip. Nothing like that happened, I can assure you.”

The students shifted as she swept her glare over them. The girl in the front ducked her head and began to chew her nails. An awkward silence filled the room until Dr Frobisher returned and dismissed the class. Keeping up a stream of inconsequential chatter, the principal escorted Harriet and Adam to the exit doors of the building and then left them with a hurried goodbye.

“That was weird.” Adam walked beside Harriet out into the midday sunshine.

“Teenagers, huh?” Harriet shot an anxious glance at Adam. He seemed to have recovered from the foolish girl’s comments, but she still ached for him. “They love making up stuff, don’t they? They hear a snippet of something and turn it into a completely different story. You shouldn’t pay any attention to them.”

“I’m not. Don’t worry, I didn’t take any offence.” They reached Harriet’s hatchback, and he paused to lean his arm against the roof, eyes narrowed against the sun. “But I think we could both learn something from those teenagers.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re not hung up over the past at all. I just realised that back there in the classroom. What happened ten years ago is ancient history to these kids. They don’t look back, they’re all looking forward, to the future.”

She unlocked her car and opened the door. “That’s because they’re young, and they still have most of their lives ahead of them.”

He smiled, and his smile was tinged with poignancy. “You seem to forget that we’re still young too, Harriet. We also have most of our lives ahead of us.”

“True.” She nodded and bit her lip. “But by the time you reach our age, you realise that certain paths and possibilities are no longer available. Your choices have narrowed, and that affects your future as well.”

His smile faded. “Is that how you feel? As though your future has narrowed?”

He seemed so concerned, and it touched off a moment of panic in her. Did she really know what she wanted? She’d been so busy choosing her path and making her way that she’d never really stopped to consider if it was leading her to a destination she still wanted. What if she reached her goal only to find out it wasn’t for her anymore? What if she’d written off other possibilities too soon?

She shook her head, trying to swat away her doubts. No, she wasn’t really having a crisis here. It was only Adam’s presence that unnerved her. The memory of his kisses still lingered on her lips like a scald mark, and in the recesses of her mind she couldn’t help wondering what would have happened if she hadn’t told him to stop, if she’d simply gone with the flow and followed her heart’s desire.

Her heart’s desire?
Oh, damn, she wasn’t going to do something so nauseatingly predictable as to start caring about Adam, was she?

“Harriet?”

She started. How long had she been standing there silent, revealing God knows what on her face?

“My future hasn’t narrowed,” she answered testily. “I just mean I’m old enough to know what’s achievable and what’s not.”