Читать книгу Candlesight - Michael Liddy - Страница 7

The following day there was a call put through to her office, and the receptionist had an unusually reserved tone in her voice. “Amelia, there’s a call for you; it’s Arthur.”

Clearing her throat, Amelia took a deep breath before replying. “Ok, put him through.”

It was difficult to explain the instant anxiousness that simple name imparted. The man was a towering personality that could wither a seasoned leader with a few well placed words. When he entered a room everybody knew instantly and when he called for silence in a crowd, there was never so much as a whisper. That he was calling her again filled her with dread; whatever he asked of her, there could be no mistakes, she’d have to get it exactly right.

While she was very proud of some of the progress she’d made in this difficult period, she didn’t want to come to Arthur’s attention. Nothing was good enough for this man and there was a long long line of casualties in his wake. Beyond that, Richard would be livid if he knew Arthur was talking to her directly.

“Arthur, hi.” She hoped her voice didn’t come across as whiny.

There was a moment's pause before he replied, his voice deep and gravelly. “Amelia, I’ve just been shown the new designs; I think they’re very forward.”

Amelia wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or not. She also wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get hold of them, she’d only shown Adam and Richard. She realised they’d been left in the small meeting room adjacent to her office. Someone must have seen and described them to him; or maybe it had been Richard, she couldn’t imagine Adam having any need to speak with Arthur.

“You sound a little hesitant.” Amelia collected herself and replied before the gap in conversation became uncomfortable.

He took a moment before he replied. “No, I think they’re good, but I want to talk to you about where you’re going with these, and I want to know what else you’re up to.”

Unsure of what to say, she replied inanely. “Oh.”

“Next Tuesday at seven pm, I’ll have Amanda tell you where.” There was no note of request in his tone, and Amelia suspected that if she was scheduled for surgery on that night, he’d probably expect her to postpone it. As a concession that perhaps even for him the summons needed clarification, he continued, “Amelia, I’m not being critical of what you’ve done, I just want to get a sense of where your head is at.”

Amelia was still uneasy. “Um, sure, whatever you need.”

The line went dead. She held the receiver in front of her for a moment and stared at it. There was a lot that was extremely strange here. More and more she had the sense that Arthur was far more involved in Havesheld than his “retirement” suggested. What that meant for Richard, she couldn’t be sure. Also peculiar was the comment about location. She knew that the Arnold side of the family had several houses in and around Melbourne, and in the course of her life she thought she’d been to all of them. That Amanda Bingham, Arthur’s and now Richard’s personal assistant, would tell Amelia where she was to go, suggested that it wasn’t a location she knew. It also, perhaps, gave some indication as to who was feeding Arthur information.

Leaning back in her chair, Amelia’s thoughts ventured in many directions. There was clearly opportunity for her here, and a cold and giddy lust swept over her. In a flight of ambitious fancy she wondered if one day she might lead Havesheld. Perhaps Arthur was grooming her, he certainly couldn’t be happy with what James had done to the company under Richard’s stewardship.

She pursed her lips and whispered to herself, “I’ll have to keep everything I do completely innocent and open until the time is right.” Then she folded her arms and thought of Ethan, thought of what he’d taken from her, and how at this moment he was probably half drunk on his yacht in the Whitsunday passage. She pictured who he was probably with. A vicious anger swept through her. “Why can’t I show him what he’s missed?”

On her way down the corridor Amelia passed Adam’s office and paused. For a moment she weighed up whether she should talk to him, or more particularly, whether she could trust him. Despite all the years they'd worked together, and though they’d become closer in recent months, he was still largely unknown to her. A very calm and measured personality, he’d become much more prominent since escaping James’s fast-food brash management yoke. He’d played a very low-key role in the organisation, even though he was an Arnold. Perhaps that was because he was from a distant part of the family.

When Amelia tapped on the door frame, Adam took some time to look up from his screen and focus on her from above thin rimmed, rectangular reading glasses. Silence ensued until he finally prompted her. “And?”

“Do you know where Richard is?”

Adam leaned back in his leather chair and crossed his arms. “With Rachel, Noumea I think, they’ve chartered a yacht for the week.” He gave her a penetrating look. “Why?”

Amelia ignored the question. “I wasn’t paying all that much attention to how he ran the place with James. Has he always been like this?”

“Not always, but there have been hints of it from the moment he took over from Arthur. It’s escalated certainly, and he seemed to always eat whatever James was feeding him which fuelled it I suppose.” He leaned forward again. “What are you getting at, Amelia?”

She weighed up how much to tell him; she didn't want to reveal her intentions. “I just had an out of the blue call from Arthur. He wants to sit down with me and talk about the ranges I’m working on.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Be careful.”

Frowning, Amelia came into his office and sat down stiffly on the couch to the left of his desk. “Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know what’s going on with Arthur, but I know he’s been out of getting directly involved here for years. If he’s weighing in again, that means there’s going to be a brouhaha with Richard and I’d stay right away from it if I was you.” He gave her a mischievous smile. “That is of course unless you have, shall we call them, aspirations.”

She was ready for that likelihood and kept her expression completely straight. “I just want to do some good ranges and get the damn things sold. That’s it.”

Adam spread his hands. “You can’t ignore him, so talk to him about that and nothing else.”

Amelia stood, and smiled at him warmly. “That’s what I’ll do then.” She left the room without further comment, fully prepared to follow that advice. For now.

Over the next week, she thought little of Jared. The fundamental mystery of his identity was solved, and the attention she was under at head office moved the unassuming young man from her thoughts. Towards the middle of the week, though, she began to recall the strange appointment, and slowly, steadily, Jared regained prominence in her mind.

By Thursday afternoon she was looking at her watch every fifteen minutes, and by four she began to wind up everything she was working on. As the sun began to dip below the tall buildings behind her, she shut down her computer, and very quietly slunk out through reception.

There was an excitement building within her as she drove towards Kensington, and it took her a few moments to realise that it was as much about wondering if he’d appear than her interest in talking to him again. She resolved quickly that if he did turn up she’d spend less time with him than their last meeting. It had been tiring for her to drag every sentence out of him.

Exiting the congested main thoroughfares she quickly weaved through the tiny streets and could see the IGA in the distance. As agreed she did a slow u-turn and pulled up exactly where she’d dropped him off last time. Glancing at her watch again, she saw she was five minutes early, and settled back in the comfortable leather seat to wait. In a peculiar paradox a calm excitement overtook her, and she realised it was because so many things were swirling around her. For a long time the giddiness continued before she finally settled on one controlling thought, more domineering and aggressive than the others.

Smiling to herself she whispered, “I’m going to be something. I’m going to be remembered. Maybe I’ll never have a real family and children, but there will be something I’ve built.”

As time wore on an irritation began to grow and Amelia stared down at her watch repeatedly. Five minutes late. Ten minutes late. She began to fidget in the seat and found herself craning repeatedly to look out of the rear window. There was no sight of him; in fact, on this arctic winter evening there was no sight of any movement at all. As always, at any inconvenience, her agitation began to rise.

Her softly spoken whisper became menacing. “I’ll wait here for another ten minutes and if you don’t show up, that’s it.” Already she began to put her mind into a state of leaving. There were other things that were far more important to her than this petty indulgence.

It was then that she happened to glance through the momentarily open automatic doors as an elderly lady with a walker paced with tiny steps out onto the footpath. As the doors began to snap shut again, she caught sight of a flash of yellow, before the shape retreated into one of the aisles again.

Amelia frowned. “You strange little man, how long have you been skulking in there?”

She was sure Jared hadn’t walked past her and she was also sure there wasn’t another entrance into the supermarket. Amelia climbed briskly out of the car and tried to focus through the reflections on the sliding doors. Once inside she craned her head in every direction but couldn’t see any sign of him. Not trusting that he wouldn’t try to slip past her, she walked quickly but covertly over to the farthest aisle and waited.

After a moment she realised this was a ridiculous subterfuge; she’d left the car in plain view and she obviously wasn’t in it anymore. Amelia walked past the long aisles, knowing it was next to impossible for him to traverse their length and make it outside without being seen by her. At the third canyon of perishables she spotted him; facing the tall stacks of breakfast cereals, he ran his hand along a packet, obviously reading it without interest.

Able to approach him without his knowing, she noticed several subtle but distinct differences about him. Firstly he wore the same jeans, but they showed the light creases of having been washed recently. Secondly his hair glistened rather than hanging limply across his forehead and ears. She smiled and her pulse quickened; he’d tried to neaten his appearance for her.

As she neared his shoulder he spun around sharply. For a moment his eyes were wild with alarm and she felt he was on the verge of fleeing. They stood in complete silence for quite some time before Amelia smiled and spoke quietly. “If I hadn’t noticed your jacket through the doors I would have left.”

Jared edged away from her and looked down. His voice, when he finally spoke, was a distant rasp. “I. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

Amelia prompted the distressed young man further. “Why didn’t you just not show up?”

“I didn’t think you’d come, and when you did I didn’t know what to say.” Something within him seemed to solidify and his shoulders straightened slightly. In a slow gesture he reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out a small fabric bound book. In a tentative gesture he handed it to her. “I wanted to show you I could do something.”

Amelia took the offering gingerly, and looked at his now downcast expression. “Jared, I already think you can do something. I think you’re very talented.”

His reply was quiet but quickly voiced. “You don’t think I did them, you think I got them from somewhere else.”

“That’s not true. I knew Ted had nothing to do with this, and what you came up with I haven’t seen anywhere else.” She touched his forearm. “I know they’re yours.”

He shrank away from her hand, and Amelia tried her best to brush aside the momentary pang she felt. It was obvious that Jared wasn’t just painfully shy, his was a deeper and more insidious isolation. She gave him a weak smile. “Come on, just coffee this time, nothing tricky.”

There was no immediate response in his expression and she spun away from him and walked towards the entrance, without looking back. If he didn’t follow, she’d leave him alone. It was wrong to keep pushing somebody into something they weren’t capable of. She finally turned around as she reached for the car door. He wasn’t behind her. Another tinge of loss hit her, but it immediately vanished as Jared tentatively emerged from the store, an exposed and flighty cast to his features.

Waiting a moment before she started the ignition, Amelia glanced towards him in the passenger seat and let a brief smile cross her features. “You’re getting better.” There was no response; his expression was unreadable as he very calmly and carefully fastened his seatbelt.

Not wanting to push him, they drove in silence, Amelia playing an orchestral score quietly to alleviate what could have become an uncomfortable silence. After a few minutes, Jared spoke hesitantly. “I don’t know this.”

Amelia responded quickly. “It’s the score from Edward Scissorhands.” He simply shook his head. “It’s a film, this is the orchestral score. I like this guy's stuff; it’s always very emotive. You’ve never heard of Edward Scissorhands?”

He breathed deeply. “I don’t watch television.”

She knew a lot of people that couldn’t deal with commercial television, who resorted to broadband or pay television. She suspected though that he didn’t do either. “Do you ever go to the cinema?”

Jared frowned. “No.”

Amelia left it there, waiting until they sat down, in the exact table they'd had last time, to focus on him.

“You read a lot and you draw,” she said then. “I’m betting reading would give you enormous perspective, but the inspiration to draw... Where do you get that from?”

His reaction was unexpected. A series of emotions seemed to momentarily war over his face before he froze in position, his eyes locked on her with an uncommon intensity. Only one word finally emerged, barely more than a whisper. “Books.”

Amelia frowned. “Books?”

He nodded, obviously relieved that she’d directed the conversation. “For objects, and places, everything.”

Sitting back and nodding at the waitress as she delivered their coffee, Amelia thought about this man’s tiny window on the world, how it might be if he actually experienced the places he saw on paper. Would he grow? Would a confidence emerge?

They spoke quietly for some time, and Amelia was invigorated that slowly, steadily, his single word answers became collections of thoughts. Still, his language, posture and mannerisms were stilted and ungainly, almost as if he wasn’t used to any form of conversation or interaction at all. Frowning, she corrected that perception; he used some sophisticated words, and she wondered if, rather, he had such a narrow group of people that he interacted with that somebody new threw him off balance.

It was by no means an unruly flood though; he was extremely guarded and hesitant in the way he spoke. He waited for Amelia to volunteer what they should speak of and then he responded. Jared kept his eyes cast downward and only fleetingly looked up to see if she was still engaged in the conversation.

Amelia slowly began to identify his personality below the layers of what she assumed was repression and perhaps emotional pain. She was very careful to stay well away from anything to do with his personal life or history lest she disturb this tiny window into him. What she did sense though, was that beyond his drab appearance there was a deep mind that observed everything that went on around him.

Leaning forward across the table, she looked up at him briefly before asking a question that continued to intrigue her. “I know you like the routine and comfort of working at Coremade, but how do you turn off the creative part of yourself, just shut it down? Isn’t it what you really want to do the most?”

Jared shrugged. “Not like that. Working’s a rhythm, don’t have to think about it, I can let my mind float away.”

She pressed him. “Where does it float to?”

He gave her a rare smile. “Anywhere, everywhere. Away from here.”

“That’s what I mean, don’t you want to at least see a little bit of the rest of the world?”

The answer was resolute. “It’s all the same, it’s ugly, don’t want to touch it.”

Amelia frowned. “Doesn’t that make your little piece here ugly too?”

Shrugging briefly, he sipped his coffee. “It does, but I’m used to this bit.”

Making an effort to pointedly look around, she returned her attention to him. “This doesn’t look too ugly to me, and everyone’s being very pleasant to each other.”

He regarded her frankly again and lifted his chin slightly. “Look at what Ted’s done. That’s ugly. I don’t care, but it’s wrong. He doesn’t even know it was me. Didn’t bother to find out, and I know that if he did, he’d probably sack me.”

Nodding, Amelia replied quietly. “True, but we can’t all crawl into a hole and not come out.”

There was a pause before he replied. “I’m out.”

Amelia gave a short, but spontaneous laugh. “Yes, you are.”

That brief but significant gesture at humour seemed to mark a progression. Steadily now their conversation became more flowing, and she was genuinely surprised to see how broad his acquaintance with all manner of topics really was. There was something that troubled her though, and at this stage it was more of instinct than any real suspicion, but something was definitely wrong. For somebody who never moved beyond a few streets there was a definite depth to his understanding, something that could only be gained by first hand experience. As convincing and immersive as literature could be, it could never convey the myriad senses and nuances of actual events, those triggers that make experiences truly memorable. Jared seemed to have that depth and she couldn’t see how he could have achieved it. Childhood trauma and struggle may have unlocked layers of perception, but he seemed to have parts of the composure of a traveller.

Time slipped away quickly and it was only as the restaurant began to fill that Amelia noticed Jared becoming steadily more agitated. Looking down at her watch she saw that it was half-past seven, and she started slightly. “Goodness, it’s late. Come on, I’ll drop you back.”

As Amelia stood, Jared shot out of the chair, rocking the table, and several people at other tables looked in his direction. The expression on his face was mortified and he seemed to visibly wilt. Closing the distance towards him, Amelia spoke in a quiet but firm voice. “Once, when I stood up, I not only bumped the table, but spilt drinks over two other people sitting at the table, knocked the candle over and set fire to the table cloth.” She touched his shoulder. “Don’t worry about them, they’ve all done much worse.”

This time Jared didn’t shrink away. He seemed to settle a little and then followed her calmly as she brushed his arm briefly and then turned to leave the restaurant. They drove in silence back to the little supermarket.

As she pulled up, Jared quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the door. He met her eyes briefly before getting out, speaking in a soft voice. “Thank you.”

Amelia leaned over, her expression intent. “Next Tuesday, same time?”

He pursed his lips, before smiling briefly. “Ok.”

Amelia watched his form retreat into the darkness and then the fawn smudge of colour bobbed out of view around the corner. She replayed the conversations in her mind and started slightly as she acknowledged there was a subtle but definite change in their dynamic. Originally thinking that this man had a one dimensional talent, and that he’d be overwhelmed by her, Amelia was surprised to discover that there was much more to him, an understated strength and resolve.

Absently pulling out into traffic, Amelia wondered how that paradox could be possible; how could someone be so intimidated about walking into a café, or lurk in the aisles of a supermarket rather than casually talk to a person, and yet have an extensive undercurrent of mature and resolved opinions? Timidness on this scale usually meant a withdrawal from everything; years of complete retreat from almost any interaction, yet despite his comfort with a few streets, he was very - she smiled - worldly.

Returning to the office, now deserted, she worked for a little while before deciding she was tired and not doing anything particularly effectively. Abandoning the cold office in a routine daze, she drove home, picking up her favourite Chinese take away on the way.

Sweeping her jacket out of the way so she could settle on the couch with her dinner and a glass of wine, she noticed the light garment had a unfamiliar weight. It was only then that she remembered the sketch book Jared had given her.

Pulling it free she saw it was a well worn, linen, hard-covered book with a fastened piece of elastic holding it closed. Turning it over in her hands Amelia looked at the frayed edges of the boards and guessed it had seen many months of hard use.

Her features screwing up into a perplexed gesture. “Where have you been that this could be so beaten up?” Looking more closely, she could see the smudges and markings were grey earth, not the wild variety of stains expected from a traveller’s note book.

Amelia slid the elastic free and let the book fall open in her lap. Immediately a festival of images floated free and swept her into their mystique. Natural landscapes, cities, towns, ruins, roads, canyons, forests, rivers, boats, oceans were laid out before her in gorgeous, immersive clarity. All were pencil rendered in the same succinct and expressive style; this could only be the work of one person.

Amelia held her breath as she reverently turned the pages over, eyes and attention captivated by the sights before her. Shaking her head in wonder, she whispered in awe. “How did you do this.” Surely these were rendered by someone sitting within these scenes; if copied from a photograph, they couldn’t possibly hold so much emotion.

Food forgotten, Amelia sat completely immobile, still leaning on her right forearm until it became extremely uncomfortable. It was as she sat up and reluctantly took her attention from the pages that she realised something significant; there seemed to be many historical periods depicted. Mostly the scenes were of places, and the figures within them were on the periphery, or in the distance as a mass of people; nobody distinct or identifiable, nobody close. She noticed horses though, with people riding them, and in others old trains and cars, and in still others people walking along roads. That settled it: they must be drawn from photographs.

Smiling, Amelia took a deep breath and leaned back, sniffing the bouquet of the wine. “To capture the spirit of these places so beautifully from images, that’s truly a gift.”

She continued to flick through the pages, marvelling at the capturing of places from all over the world. By the time the bottle was almost empty she’d been there for over an hour, staring at tiny details, completely captivated. It was only when her vision began to blur, her eyes grainy, that Amelia reluctantly checked her watch and was startled to note that it was after midnight.

Uncoiling protesting limbs she stood up and stretched languidly. “I know I said next Tuesday, Jared, but I think I’d like to talk to you tomorrow.”

All through the following day she tried to find an excuse to leave the office for a few hours, but neither phone nor email would allow her the respite. Though not many people came in to speak with her, the other communication was a relentless barrage.

At five, Amelia answered deemed her critical decisions done for one day. Slamming down the cover of her laptop she threw it into her satchel and stormed towards the elevator. “Let them figure it out themselves for a few hours.” The words had an angry edge to them.

Reaching into her jacket pocket she felt for the sketch book and smiled at the memory of the images - the places - that were captured within. For a moment she wondered at why Jared had given her such a precious object, each piece so skilfully and lovingly crafted. Surely it shouldn’t ever be let out of sight.

The traffic was thankfully light - she loved school holidays - and was able to reach the factory just after twenty past five. As usual the street was silent and deserted, and the factory was almost completely dark. Amelia reached for her mobile phone, but then tossed it onto the passenger seat. “It’s the dark ages again where you can’t find anyone.”

Stress swelled up within her, a culmination of the day’s frustration and this forced inactivity. Her mind was used to immediate action and reaction; she felt almost completely unable to sit still. With a profound act of discipline she concentrated on her breathing, and slowly, steadily, she began to calm down.

Some twenty minutes later, a familiar form emerged from the side door to the rear loading entrance. Hunched over, head downcast and with hands deep in pockets, he trod a well worn path without looking around him. Amelia wondered if Jared ever noticed beauty around him, or if it was just from magazines and books.

As he drew level with her car on the opposite side of the road, Amelia opened the driver’s door and climbed out. Jared didn’t look up as she approached, and only abated his pace and abruptly stopped when he was almost upon her. His expression was at first startled and then confronted as he realised someone was near and then who it was.

Amelia closed the remaining distance and then watched him in silence for a moment. “Hello Jared.”

It was several seconds before he responded and when he did, his voice was hoarse, his expression a frown. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think I’d want to talk to you after I’d seen this?” She lifted the book from her pocket and held it toward him.

At a loss for words, he fidgeted and kept his eyes downcast, finally lifting them to her, his expression earnest. “I didn’t want you thinking I was a lowlife.”

Amelia screwed her face up into a tight frown. “Why would I possibly think that?”

He took a deep breath, but it was long seconds before he finally replied. “You speak well, go all over the world... you’re something.”

She shook her head. “I was lucky, Jared, nothing more. I was born into a well-off family, but none of that matters really. It’s what you do with what you’ve got, and you’ve done something amazing.”

Jared mulled on that for a moment, and finally seemed to accept the point she was making. He gave her a rare appraising look, one that suggested he was allowed to, as opposed to his continual attempts to have all attention completely diverted away from him. There was also a deeper acknowledgement; her being here told him he was important in some way.

Sensing that he was relaxing, Amelia took the chance to ask him the question that hounded her most. “Jared, I can’t believe you copied these from books, they’re way too involving, too real. Where did you see these places? At the cinema?”

For the barest of instants a look of shock passed across his features, as if he’d been caught at something. Jared seemed on the verge of blurting something out. No words came forth though, and after a long pause, he simply nodded. “There’s an old theatre near here, they play all sorts of things. I have a good memory, I sketch.”

Knowing there was something he wasn’t telling her, and noting that he’d said before he didn’t go to see films but not sure if it was significant, or just an extension of his typical shyness, Amelia instead moved on. “The images are majestic, and very engaging. Looking at them, it feels like I’m there, all sorts of different times and places. You get all that from a few glimpses on a movie screen?”

Looking down, Jared bit his bottom lip and pushed his hands deep into his pockets. Returning his gaze to her, there was an entreating expression on his face. “I’m sick of being alone.”

The unexpectedness of the statement drew an immediate response from her. “What do you mean?”

“Once you’ve asked me all you want, are you going to go away?”

Amelia didn’t understand. “You mean today?”

He shook his head. “No. Soon though. Days, weeks.” There was a silence and a strange tension, Amelia knew he wanted to continue and was completely uncertain how to prompt him. She wanted him to continue; she felt an enormous swelling of emotion at his exposure to her. The words, when they came, were stilted. “I gave you my book because I didn’t want you to think I was stupid, but I also wanted you to keep talking to me.”

Reaching her hand to his shoulder, Amelia rested it there gently and was filled with warmth that he didn’t retreat away. “Even if you hadn’t said anything, I could tell from that first glance in the factory that there was a lot to you. I like the way you look at things, I really want to keep seeing you if you want.” At his hesitant and open smile she continued, “I think we could find things to talk about for ages.”

There was a long silence as they stood together. The open connection between them was completely unexpected, and neither knew immediately how to continue. Amelia played over in her mind the conversation that lead to his frank statement, dwelling on the emotions it made her feel. Jared was nothing like the men she’d experienced in her life, from family through private school and university. There was an honesty to him that was refreshing and completely without guile, and beyond his obvious talent, she found that very attractive, despite his social ineptness. That his appearance was completely without any sense of presence or personality hadn’t made any impact. She was being completely honest when she said their first glance had been meaningful; there had been an intensity and bearing to that tiny expression which was arresting.

It was as she replayed their conversation that something occurred to her. She fidgeted a little before asking the question, not particularly wanting to, but finally wanting to end the silence. “Where do you go to watch all these things?” Amelia lifted the journal from her pocket.

Jared’s expression became momentarily clouded by reluctance. This time, however, he responded immediately. “I don’t go to the movies.”

Frowning, she prompted him before he became elusive again. “Then how do you draw these places?”

He took a deep breath. “No one’s ever taken time to talk to me like you do. Ever.” Jared regarded her entreatingly. “I can talk to you about what I draw if you want.” He paused. “If I do, I don’t want you to tell anybody.”

Amelia stared at him in consternation for some time before responding. She couldn’t imagine what he was alluding to, but it was obvious from his demeanour and tone that he was sharing a very close confidence. Feeling wary, she replied quietly. “Jared, you don’t know me that well.”

Pushing his hands back down into his pockets again, he seemed to retreat, taking her comment as rejection. “Ok.” He kept his expression downcast and turned to walk away.

Her emotions lurching, Amelia reached for his shoulder and halted him in the motion of turning away. He stopped and looked back at her, his features blank. “Wait,” she said in a rush. “Of course I want you to tell me, I want to know. I just want you to be careful.”

Dropping his eyes, Jared mumbled a response. “Always careful, always quiet.” He glanced up before adding, “But that makes me nothing and I’m sick of always being nothing.”

At that moment her phone chimed loudly in her pocket, and with irritation she dropped her hand from Jared’s shoulder and retrieved it. Glad it wasn’t the repetitive sequence of a call, her heart raced as she saw the appointment reminder. The dinner with Arthur in an hour.

With a sharp intake of breath Amelia stammered, “Damn!” Stepping back from Jared she stared at him earnestly, her mind already miles away from him. “I really want to talk to you more about this, but I’m sorry, I have to go. It’s an appointment that’s very important.”

Jared backed into the covering darkness, still watching her. “It’s ok.”

Amelia sensed his retreating, and her feelings went out to him, but the sense of urgency at that reminder ripped through her. Already she was planning her race through traffic to get home and change, and then the quickest way out to Hawthorn. Her thoughts were completely focused as she spun away from him. “I’ll talk to you soon.”