Kiss It Better (19 page)

This time when she snuggled down for a nap, the intimacy of sleeping beside Theo was real rather than a tantalising tease of something she’d never have. She watched him flick through messages on his phone.

She’d called her dad on the drive up to Perth, letting him know that they’d contacted Sergeant Forrest and Leighton would be charged with fraud, that Aunt Gabby was devastated to learn her son was a gambler, and that she, Cassie, was on her way back to Melbourne. ‘I’ll be staying with Theo.’

‘As a friend or something more?’ Mick could be blunt even when he used euphemisms.

‘Something more.’

‘Can he hear me?’ Since Mick knew she was in the car with Theo and Mick always shouted on the phone, the answer was yes.

Still, Theo said it. ‘Yes.’

Her dad laughed. ‘Take care of my girl.’

A good conversation, despite the sadness around Leighton. Cassie smiled as she closed her eyes.

She wouldn’t say she slept. She was aware when Theo switched off his phone and turned to study her. She looked a sleepy question at him.

‘Everything’s fine,’ he said. ‘Except Mum and Dad are going to meet us at the airport.’

That woke her up. It was one thing to know that Louise was matchmaking — a scary thought in itself — but Theo’s parents wouldn’t want her there for a potentially emotional discussion with their son.

‘I could take a taxi to your house.’

‘Or you could be a big girl and not try to duck an emotional scene.’

She sat up. ‘I was being thoughtful.’

‘Mum’s invited you. She’s making Sunday dinner.’

‘Oh.’

‘Don’t worry, it won’t be embarrassingly emotional.’

***

As they entered the airport lounge, Louise ran up to Theo and hugged him tight before bursting into loud tears.

Cassie wasn’t embarrassed. She liked that Theo wasn’t either.

His tall body curved so he could speak quietly to his mum, something that had her nodding and sniffing and finally drawing back.

Gordon was ready with a big white handkerchief.

Theo hugged his dad while Louise used the handkerchief. Gordon’s relief was obvious.

Fortunately, this time there were no photographers and no one rude enough to snap a covert photo with their phone.

‘I’m so glad you brought him home.’ Louise stuffed the hankie into her handbag and hugged Cassie. ‘Thank you.’

‘Theo loves you. He brought himself home.’

‘You were with him.’ Louise hugged her tighter.

‘Mum, you’re strangling her.’

‘I am not.’ Louise let her go to defend herself. ‘I was hugging her shoulders. You can’t strangle shoulders.’

Gordon looked a question at Cassie. ‘Do you think I’m a fool? Can I have a hug?’

She hugged him. Unlike his wife, he didn’t cry or talk, but the welcome felt genuine.

‘All right.’ Gordon stepped back. ‘There’s octopus stew in the slow cooker at home. Let’s get moving.’

Octopus stew?

‘Seafood chowder,’ Theo said. ‘Greek style.’

Evidently her apprehension had shown. ‘Sounds good,’ she said cautiously.

It was, actually.

The Morrigan family home proved to be one of Toorak’s famous late nineteenth century mansions. The family had clung onto the land around it, resisting the temptation to subdivide, so there was a sense of space and calm. Except when Gordon started talking. He was volatile.

They ate in the dining room off the kitchen; not the formal dining room, Cassie was given to understand. This was where the family ate and it was bright with pale apple-green walls, white-framed family photos and faded terracotta tiles that led to the kitchen that matched the feeling of casual charm with its white, vaguely colonial cupboards, lace curtains and abundant food preparation equipment. The stove was massive.

Three days ago, she couldn’t have imagined it, but for a non-controversial subject, they discussed her cousin Leighton and his activities. After the real drama of discovering Theo’s parentage, Leighton’s lies were back in proportion. The ironic thing was that the media were apparently loving the story of her and Theo’s relationship: a story that was now spine-tinglingly real.

Theo grinned at her. ‘I told you everyone loves a romance.’

Louise stopped ladling out second helpings of the octopus stew to slap his hand.

‘Ow!’

‘You know the rule in this house.’

Theo and Gordon chorused it. ‘There are no I-told-you-so’s among family.’

‘Nothing more annoying than smugness.’ But Louise gave Theo an extra scoop of stew.

Afterwards, everyone except Gordon helped clear the table. Louise explained his absence. ‘This is the time he used to have a glass of port. The doctors said he should cut it out, so he walks once around the yard instead. Thank you for your help.’ She finished cleaning the slow cooker and dried her hands.

Theo stood near the humming dishwasher.

‘Excuse me a moment.’ Louise vanished.

Theo pulled Cassie into his arms.

She rested comfortably against him. ‘I like your parents.’

‘They like you.’

She’d kind of gathered that, but it was nice to hear it. She stood on tiptoe to kiss him and he responded enthusiastically.

‘Canoodle in your own kitchen.’ Gordon was back.

So was Louise, standing there quietly with a box in her hands, beaming at them.

It was that happy, hopeful beam that had Cassie exiting Theo’s arms, fast. ‘Um.’

Louise lifted the shoebox. ‘These are photos and clippings of Dave, Theo’s father.’

They took mugs of tea and hot chocolate with them into the dining room. Theo was tense, his eyes on the box, but trying not to show it.

Cassie couldn’t imagine what it would be like not to know how her dad looked. She sat beside Gordon at the table with Theo and his mum opposite. The whole situation was so fraught. How did Gordon feel watching his son discover another father, remembering the man his wife had, in some sense, loved?

Louise’s feelings were there in the gentle way she opened the box and laid the lid aside.

‘Learn everything you can about your father, Theo,’ Gordon said into the tense, waiting silence. ‘I’m a jealous, proud, sometimes stupid man, but I don’t want you to be left with questions or to be torn. I remember Dave. You deserve to know that he was a good man.’

Louise stretched her arm across the table and clasped her husband’s. ‘Thanks, love.’

Theo nodded his gratitude.

And then Louise passed him a photo of Dave Mawson.

Theo froze, his eyes on the small photo.

Cassie had to grip the edge of her chair to stay in her seat. What was Theo seeing that had him so shocked and absorbed?

‘That’s the clearest photo of Dave.’ Louise leaned her shoulder against his. Mother and son, heads bent over a shared past. ‘He had some publicity shots, some stuff in the newspaper. But that was down at St Kilda; he was gazing out to sea and I took the photo.’

‘He looks like me.’

Cassie couldn’t stop herself. She was up and around the table, leaning in. Her breath caught.

Dave Mawson wasn’t his son. His face was different, recognisably related, but longer, younger. He was maybe twenty-five in the photo, but probably younger. What was the same was the set of their shoulders, broad shoulders, strong and confident; the tilt of their heads and the shape of their ears; but most of all, their expression.

‘You look like that.’ Cassie put a hand on Theo’s back. ‘When you’re thinking, you seem to see deeper.’

‘See further,’ Louise said. She brought out other photos. ‘I used to call it his “beyond the horizon” stare. I knew he’d never settle, never stay in one place. He grew up in foster care with no idea of who his parents were.’

Theo jerked. ‘Nothing?’

‘We can investigate,’ Gordon said. ‘Hire a detective.’

‘But Dave knew nothing of his parents. He grew up in Ballarat. I’m sorry, Theo. That’s all I know. All Dave ever said.’ She smiled, her eyes on the photos before them. ‘He talked about the future, instead. Not his future: everyone’s. He really believed the world could be a better place.’

They finished looking at the photos. Gordon came around to their side of the table, too, and he remembered some of the people in the old snaps. It had to be a deliberate ploy, but his stories lightened the moment.

Finally they stood, exchanging hugs, Theo holding the box of photos that he’d have copied. ‘Thanks, Mum. Dad. Where’s Dad?’

‘He’s gone to get…’ Louise paused. ‘I have one final memory of Dave and we didn’t think you’d have a cassette player.’

The implications hit Cassie like a punch to the gut. And if the emotional impact was that much for her, it was a wonder Theo still stood.

He had to clear his throat. ‘You have a copy of Dave’s songs?’

‘Just one. Just his favourite. He called it “Dreaming on the Way”. We realised we don’t have a cassette player either, but Gordon’s old Ford does.’

‘The keys.’ Gordon dropped them in his son’s hand. ‘I told you that car was a classic.’

It was clearly an old friendly-family argument, but no one laughed.

‘Go on.’ Louise nudged Theo. ‘Go home and listen to your father.’

***

Theo drove down to St Kilda beach. He was glad Cassie didn’t even bother to ask if he wanted to be alone. He wanted her with him when he heard his father’s voice for the first time.

Unfamiliar emotion sat heavy in his chest. He switched off the engine and headlights, and they both wound down the windows. The sound of the waves came softly, and moonlight shimmered on them. He put in the cassette tape, remembering how his dad had played old tapes for years, refusing to update to CDs before finally giving in.

The tape made a static noise before clearing. There were a couple of soft taps and then the sound of a guitar.

A lone guitar, played reflectively, the guitarist taking his time before…

Cassie gripped his knee.

Theo closed his eyes for a second, drawing a deep silent breath as his father’s voice filled the night.

‘Circling highways bring me…star maps overhead…’
Dave sang of searching, but it was a song of hope, not loss. The whole world was open before him and he loved its mysteries. A simple song sung by a young man in love with life.

‘He shouldn’t have died,’ Theo said. He rewound the tape.

They listened to “Dreaming on the Way” three times.

Cassie turned to face him, the seats making it awkward to be close. She put a hand along the side of his face, touching him, bringing him back, and making sure he heard her.

He definitely heard her.

‘Dave would think you were life’s most wonderful mystery. His gorgeous son.’

He kissed the palm of her hand, moved beyond words.

‘Take me home, Theo. Come to bed.’

***

Cassie hadn’t known what to expect. Dave Mawson could have been an idealistic dreamer, an amateur musician in every sense, but the voice on the tape had been strong and true, and reached across time with its raw, aching honesty.

Young as he was, Dave had understood loneliness, but had moved through it. He’d believed and lived as if there were something more; a triumph of hope over what must have been a difficult childhood.

Her heart hurt for the tragedy of his early death and the poignancy of Theo listening to the father he’d never meet.

Theo played the song one final time on the short drive home. There were no words, but she had her body to tell Theo, show him, that he wasn’t alone. They made love with a slow intensity that wasn’t about playing or pleasing each other. She had never felt more vulnerable or open to another person: naked emotionally as well as physically. Anything else was unthinkable when he came to her just as defenceless.

She didn’t care if she climaxed. That wasn’t the point. It was about having him in her, being part of him, catching at that intangible, impossible sense of belonging and rejoicing in it.

So when Theo adjusted their angles a fraction, her orgasm surprised her. It overwhelmed her, ripping her from her body so that the only security was his gaze.

He looked into her eyes the whole time, seeing what she felt, being part of it, before his movements intensified and he powered into his own climax —she was there with him.

‘Tomorrow won’t be easy,’ he said later.

Life was such an odd mix. High drama, emotions, incredible sex, and now Theo moving old computer equipment out of half of his wardrobe so that she could move her clothes in. Not that she had many clothes with her, but the welcome, the statement that she belonged was real and she valued it.

‘All the family will be calling in, checking that I’m okay.’

‘Probably.’ Her family was the same. From meeting the Morrigans, she guessed they’d want to see for themselves that Theo was fine. Then they’d stay and talk. She stowed her empty bag at the bottom of the wardrobe and closed the door. ‘They love you.’

He dropped backwards onto the bed. Since he only wore his black boxers, the pose of despair looked sexy. ‘My great-aunts will pinch my cheeks and I’ll sneeze at all the talcum powder they wear.’

‘I could pinch your cheeks.’ She tried for a leer.

It must have worked. Kind of.

He laughed. ‘Come here, darlin’, and we’ll see who pinches who, and where.’

***

In the morning, Cassie leaned against the doorframe, cradling a mug of coffee, and waved him goodbye and good luck. The street was quiet yet. A couple of people walked small dogs and joggers ran past.

Theo was going in early in the hope of getting some work done before the family descended.

Her own plans were less organised. A desire to procrastinate battled with knowing that she should be thinking about her employment situation. She had savings and over half of the substantial sum from the sale of JayBay that her dad had insisted in depositing in her bank account, but she hated being idle. She was healthy, now. For her self-respect, she needed to be up and doing. But nursing?

She woke from her reverie to realise that Theo had vanished down the street and she’d finished her coffee. She pushed away from the doorframe and wandered inside.

Going clothes shopping wouldn’t really be putting things off. If she caught the tram into the city centre she could stock up on ordinary clothes: new jeans, summer trousers and shorts, a couple of skirts, t shirts, shirts, shoes, sandals, underwear…she started making a list. A plain suit that she could wear to an interview would be good. Nothing too expensive. Whatever she decided to do, she’d need her prospective employer to believe she needed the job, that she was committed.