Читать книгу The Wedding Countdown - Barbara Hannay - Страница 9

THREE days to go…

In the early hours, Tessa eventually fell into a deep, troubled sleep and didn’t wake until footsteps in the corridor outside her room stirred her. She woke up slowly and then—slam—she remembered the previous night. And Isaac. She groaned and pulled the pillow over her head.

She didn’t want to face the day.

But, she consoled herself, it was already Wednesday, and there were only three days left till her wedding day. Closing her eyes, she was suddenly grateful for all her mother’s big plans. With so many details to attend to she shouldn’t need to see much of Isaac. Tomorrow the preschool would close for the end of semester holiday, and in the evening a rehearsal of the ceremony had been arranged for the wedding party. Friday would no doubt be spent frantically supervising last-minute preparations. And Saturday was her wedding day.

Tessa hugged the pillow tightly to her chest. She only had to survive for a little longer. Then she would be married to Paul and she could put Isaac out of her mind. Forever.

There was a tap on her door. It opened gently, and her father stepped into the room. ‘I’m off to do some hospital rounds before surgery starts. Just brought you a cuppa.’

‘Oh, Dad, how lovely. Thank you.’

John Morrow placed the cup and saucer carefully on her bedside table. ‘How are you feeling this morning, possum?’

‘Fine,’ she lied.

‘You needed a good night’s sleep.’ Her father leant down and kissed Tessa’s cheek. Then he straightened and looked at her thoughtfully. His eyes, the clear blue that she’d inherited, were narrowed slightly behind his spectacles.

Tessa returned his gaze but could think of nothing to say. Her father loved Isaac, too. He was delighted to have him back—but for him there were no complications.

As if he guessed the direction of her thoughts, Dr. Morrow spoke. ‘Isaac’s been up for hours, roaming with that dog of his on the hill, I think. I’ve told your mother to let him know he’s welcome to go sailing if he wants to. There’s a good south-easterly forecast for today, and Antares needs a run.’

Tessa nodded. ‘He’d like that, I’m sure.’ She was relieved when her father left after giving her hair a quick ruffle. She reminded herself once more of her task for the next three days—to simply survive and to get herself safely married to Paul Hammond.

But there was nothing simple about survival, she realised as, after showering and dressing for work, she discovered Isaac, dressed in a skimpy athletics singlet and shorts, tucking into a huge bowl of tropical fruit and muesli at the breakfast table. Her appetite dwindled at the sight of him sitting there as if he belonged, just as he had through all her teenage years.

It was dangerously like the morning she’d first realised she was in love with him.

It had happened at breakfast one morning when she’d looked up sleepily from her cereal and toast. He’d grinned at her, and then unexpectedly his dark eyes had flared with black heat as they slid to the pale skin of her shoulder and the tops of her ripening breasts, inadvertently exposed when her thin cotton nightdress slipped sideways.

And in a heartbeat, she’d responded to that look, her senses leaping to an entirely new level of awareness. With a sudden clarity of vision, she had understood the secret messages his eyes signalled. And just as suddenly, Tessa realised that this young person she lived with was a magnificent specimen of masculinity. How was it that until then she had never really appreciated the breadth of his shoulders, the sculpted muscles, the strength in his brown hands and the sweet, secretive depths of his eyes?

It was if she’d entered another level of existence. And it was shortly after that morning that Rosalind insisted she must no longer stumble out to breakfast in her nightdress.

‘I’d forgotten the taste of a perfect tropical pawpaw,’ Isaac commented as she edged shakily into a seat at the far side of the table.

‘They’ve been superb lately,’ Tessa muttered, her stomach quaking all over again at his early morning appearance. There was no doubt about it, her impression last night had been quite correct. He was a downright male miracle.

‘What time do you usually leave for work?’ he asked.

‘Oh, er, eight o’clock,’ she stammered.

‘Then you’d better eat up. It’s almost that now.’

‘I don’t think I can face breakfast this morning. I’ll just have a coffee,’ she said, reaching for the pot.

‘Tess, you know that’s very foolish. No wonder people are worried you’ll keel over at the drop of a hat. Here, at least have half my toast.’ He took a slice of wholemeal toast, spread it with marmalade, cut half for himself and held the other half out to her. And he smiled a warm smile that mesmerised her with bewildering ease. ‘That’s better,’ he said as she bit into the crust, her eyes still held by his. Then, flipping a set of car keys onto the table, he told her, ‘I’m to be your chauffeur, so let me know when you’re ready.’

The absurd spell was broken. ‘My chauffeur?’ She shook her head. ‘But that’s ridiculous. I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. It’s totally unnecessary!’

‘I’m afraid it is quite necessary. Rosalind’s busy, John’s already left, and you’re not to drive because of your, er, condition. I’m afraid I’m your only hope.’

‘My condition? What nonsense.’

‘I guess it must be a pain in the neck to be ordered not to drive, but that’s your father’s strict instruction. I’ve heard it from both him and from Rosalind.’ He was smiling as he looked at her, his eyes alight and teasing, but the next minute, Tessa wondered if it were bravado. Quite suddenly Isaac frowned, and his relaxed manner evaporated while his eyes darkened and his face grew taut. ‘Tess,’ he began, and then paused, his throat working as he clenched and unclenched his fists. ‘You’re not pregnant, are you?’

‘For heaven’s sake, Isaac!’ Tessa’s cheeks flared. ‘What on earth makes you ask that?’

‘It’s just that everyone’s treating you like you’re so damned delicate.’

‘Of course I’m not pregnant. That’s impossi—’ She bit her tongue so hard it hurt. There was no way she wanted Isaac to know the intimate secrets of her demure relationship with Paul. Of course, there was nothing wrong with their love life. Surely it was possible for a successful marriage to grow from a relationship that started with limited physical desire. All that came later…when necessary. But she wouldn’t expect Isaac to understand such things. He was an animal when it came to passion. She could never imagine behaving with Paul as she had with Isaac.

And that was just as well! What she needed was a calm, sedate life. She’d had enough turmoil to last her the rest of her days.

But it wasn’t going to get any better just yet.

Isaac was regarding her with a searching stare, his heavy brows drawn low over dark glittering eyes, and a shaft of something like electricity chased around her stomach. He picked up the keys and jingled them in one hand.

‘When you’re ready, m’lady.’

‘This is hopeless,’ she said, fuming. ‘The last person I want to be driving around with all week is you!’

His fist snapped tightly around the keys as his eyes narrowed to black cracks in his hard face. ‘You surprise me, Queen Tess. I thought you’d be pleased to see me put in my place—as your servant.’

There it was again. This snide implication that she was a first-class snob. What had she ever done to make him hate her so fiercely? His contempt for her was obvious in the curl of his lip and the thrust of his jaw. She spun away, blinking back tears, and went to collect her things.

In the seconds before she flounced off, however, her eyes caught a bleak shadow of sadness flickering across his face before it was swiftly replaced by a mocking grimace. When she returned with a bulging carryall ready for work, Isaac’s expression had settled into hard-edged anger. He looked as if he would like to grab her and shake her. Tessa frowned. Why was he so angry? She couldn’t believe he was bothered about the kind of relationship she had with the man she planned to marry.

It wasn’t as if he wanted her for himself.

She pinned her lips into a tight smile. ‘I’m ready, Jeeves.’

He offered her a mock bow, and she knew he was trying to annoy her. The motion conveyed no trace of humility, but he lifted the carryall from her shoulder with athletic grace. She followed him down the short flight of steps to the garage.

‘Do we have far to drive?’ he asked.

‘Not really—only to South Townsville.’ She stopped on the second last step, causing him to turn. ‘Isaac…’ He stared at her speculatively. ‘About staying here till the wedding,’ she said nervously. ‘You don’t have to, you know. I mean, you’ve been gone for so long. Why come back now?’

‘It really bothers you?’

She reached for the iron rail beside her. ‘No, of course it doesn’t bother me. But you don’t like Paul particularly…’

‘What makes you say that?’

Her shoulder lifted in a tiny shrug. ‘I guess it’s just something I’ve sensed.’

Isaac stood very still staring at her. His gaze seemed to read the very depths of her soul. He was silent for the longest time, and Tessa kept a strong grip on the railing.

‘Then you’ve sensed wrongly,’ he replied at last, speaking so softly she could only just hear the words. His voice rose. ‘But I’ll be damned if I’m going to start praising the fellow just to make you feel better.’

‘Of course, I don’t need you to—’

‘Besides, it doesn’t really matter how I feel about your man, does it? I’m not marrying him.’

‘No, I didn’t mean—’ Tessa shook her head desperately.

Isaac swung her bag casually over his shoulder and turned towards the car. ‘You love him, and that’s all that counts. Isn’t that right?’

‘Y-yes. Of course.’

‘So if it doesn’t bother you to have me here, and the sight of your bridegroom doesn’t worry me in the slightest, is there really a problem?’

Tessa shook her head dazedly and stepped towards the car. ‘No problem. Let’s go,’ she muttered and walked quickly to the passenger door, waiting for him to unlock it for her.

They drove through the city in silence, but as they approached South Townsville, Isaac looked at the railway yards and old sheds curiously.

‘I’m surprised you’re not working in one of the newer suburbs,’ he commented. ‘But I suppose gentrification of inner suburbs has reached Townsville as well as the southern cities.’

‘To a certain extent,’ Tessa agreed. ‘Trendy couples are buying old Queenslander cottages and renovating and extending them to look just like the pictures you see in house and garden magazines.’

‘And I guess it’s the offspring of these young and upwardly mobile professionals who attend your admirable preschool,’ he said, shooting her a knowing glance.

‘So what are you implying?’ she asked. She had a fair idea. He considered her a snob at work as well as in her private life.

‘Don’t fret, Tessa. I’m sure you give these smart young fry a flying start in the education rat-race.’ A brief smile illuminated his face.

But the smile evaporated with her next words. ‘My school is over here on the left.’

Isaac applied the brake and changed gears while trying to locate the spot Tessa indicated. He stared at the dilapidated, long, low building of fibro painted a garish yellow trimmed with red, then blinked as he focused on a sign painted near the front entrance—Burrawang Day Care and PreSchool Centre.

‘This is it?’ he asked, as he pulled into the kerb, unable to disguise the surprise in his voice.

‘Yes,’ she replied with a smile, enjoying his shock and already looking forward to the day ahead. She loved her work. ‘Thanks for the lift, Isaac.’

As she opened her door, his hand on her arm stilled her. ‘How about I pick you up and we catch a bite to eat at lunchtime?’

Tessa’s smile froze. ‘Oh, I can’t possibly get away then. I have to supervise the children’s lunches.’

‘Don’t you have any assistants?’

‘Yes, two wonderful women, but…’

‘I’m sure they’d let you off for half an hour or so. I think we need to talk—to set things straight before the big day.’

‘I—I don’t know,’ Tessa demurred. She needed a day free from Isaac—a chance to catch her breath, to refocus on her wedding. ‘Aren’t you going sailing? Dad said you should take Antares for a run.’

‘I think it would be wise if we talk things through,’ he said. ‘I might go for a sail late this afternoon. But we need to lay a few ghosts before you embark on your new life.’

‘Do you really think so?’ she muttered.

‘Damn sure of it.’

‘Won’t it mean going over unpleasant memories?’

Isaac stared at her, and the hand on the steering wheel clenched. For a moment she wondered if he regretted the impulsive invitation. ‘Let’s hope not,’ he said, shifting his gaze to the road ahead. ‘I’m sure we can manage a civilised, adult conversation.’

‘All right then,’ she replied uncertainly. ‘Pick me up at one o’clock.’

She told herself she could do it. She would steer away from dangerously provocative topics—like his reasons for abandoning her. He’d take her to lunch and tell her all about his success in his business. And she would tell him about Paul’s plans to build a house on the hill. After they’d both been through the superficial exercise of fulfilling each other’s expectations, she would feel better. She’d be able to waltz past him down the aisle on Saturday and she wouldn’t feel a thing.

That was the plan.

At one o’clock she met him just inside the door. She was almost getting used to the impact of his spellbinding male elegance, even in jeans and a white polo shirt.

‘I’d like to come in and have a squiz around if I may,’ he surprised her by asking.

Frowning, Tessa stepped back and gestured for him to continue inside.

‘I’ve never been in one of these places. Never went to one myself, of course,’ he said with a self-conscious laugh. ‘My mother was always too…’

‘Of course, Isaac,’ Tessa murmured soothingly. He looked as if his confidence had suddenly deserted him, and Tessa’s heart leapt. ‘Many of these children have mothers like yours….’

She didn’t continue. There was no point in filling in the details about his deserted mother, who’d clung to her drug addiction as an excuse to never recover after his father left them and was later reported killed. He’d shared the horrors of his early childhood with her once, in the days when she thought he trusted her.

‘You can have a look around if you like,’ she replied. ‘It’s all pretty simple.’

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as his eyes took in the building, little more than a galvanised iron shed, no better inside than out. ‘I had a vague idea that preschools were modern airy buildings with large tinted windows and set in landscaped gardens with plenty of shade cover and elaborate play sculptures.’