The Ripple Effect (4 page)

“Fine,” he said.

She went back to the counter and unwound the rubber bands around the stems. He watched her silently. She kept her eyes on the task. Doctors weren’t mind readers, were they?

“I like the name of your shop,” he said. “Was it your idea? ‘The Garden of Earthly Delights’ promises all sorts of things.”

Joelle smiled slowly. She ran her tongue over her lips and glanced up at him. The brown eyes were fastened on her face. She continued rewrapping his bouquet, heart pounding.

“I’m the manager,” she said. “We try to deliver on our promises.”

“I’m sure you succeed.”

Joelle taped the cellophane wrapper in place with the shop logo sticker. “Would you like ribbon?”

He shook his head. “It’s not a gift. Well, not as such, not a birthday or anything. It’s for…”

Joelle waited, watching, intrigued by the way doubt clouded his face, rendered him heart-stoppingly vulnerable. But disappointment followed rapidly as realisation suddenly dawned. Fantasy fell to the floor with the crushed and discarded leaves.

“I’m sure she’ll love them,” she said, all professional. “Flowers are the way to a woman’s heart.”

He laughed like a boy and the troubled expression fled. “It’s nothing like that. I’ve never met this woman. It’s…it could be awkward. I thought flowers might be a…nice gesture.” He pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

Joelle rang up the sale and handed him his change. Their fingers brushed as she slipped the coins into his palm.

“Flowers are always a nice gesture,” she said in a voice made low by an indeterminate rush of emotion ignited by the physical contact.

He said suddenly, “Do you mind if I ask? What’s your name?”

“Joelle.”

“Pretty name.” He grinned and one dark eyebrow arched over eyes alight with mischief. “Are flowers the way to your heart, Joelle?”

Joelle smiled. “Absolutely.”

“Has anyone stolen your heart with flowers?” Her heart almost stopped.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet.” He pondered her answer as he picked up the bouquet. “Thank you very much.”

“Thank you,” she said.

He walked briskly to the door and flung it open. The cowbell clanged and he turned and grimaced comically.

“See you later,” he called.

Joelle lifted her hand in a tiny wave. “Bye.”

Did that mean he was coming back? He’d asked her name but she didn’t know his. Doctor X. He wasn’t local unless he’d just moved here. Maybe he was at the hospital. He might come back, may need more flowers. If only he’d used a credit card instead of cash then she could put a name after the Doctor.

Tracey stuck her head through the bead curtain. “I should go soon to get that lot delivered by four. Have you finished?”

“Just had another customer. Give me five minutes.” Joelle grabbed the scissors and clipped the stem of a heavily perfumed pink dahlia. Tanned brown skin and deep brown eyes swam before her eyes. He’d spiked his hair, too, just a bit, and he wore expensive but casual clothes. White open neck shirt, charcoal jacket, cream linen slacks, loafers. She sighed and the dahlia and scissors fell to the counter. He thought her name was pretty.

She’d always thought it a pain. People assumed her parents had made it up until she explained it meant ‘Joy’ and her mother was French. She always had to spell it and at one time she’d told people her name was Joy to avoid the nuisance. Her mother had been horribly upset. Her father had given her his disappointed look and her sister Melanie had sniggered and said, ‘I told you so.’

At times she’d felt like socking Melanie right on her smug little nose. Just because she was younger by seven years, she was allowed all sorts of leeway that Joelle was not. Even middle sister Bridget hadn’t been allowed the freedom Melanie enjoyed. Joelle at the same age had always had a strictly adhered-to bedtime. Melanie simpered and pretended insomnia and was allowed to stay up. Joelle and Bridget had to come straight home after school. Melanie went to a friend’s and didn’t get into trouble at all for coming home late.

Joelle seethed with righteous indignation. Bridget, as usual, quietly did her own thing and ignored it. Melanie smirked.

Their parents expected them to get on better as adults but the truth was they didn’t really like each other. Not that they actively fought now, the way they had as children. They simply kept out of each other’s way. Bridget had headed overseas as soon as she finished her teaching degree. Melanie was at Technical College, fiddling about, failing and changing courses and pretending to be choosing a career. Joelle had plans to open her own business one day. After the trip to Japan. And maybe China. And who knew where else?

Doctor X might come back and sweep her off her feet.

Shay left The Garden of Earthly Delights and realised he was smiling as he strode to his car. Joelle was an unexpected delight and she was as pretty as any of the flowers in her garden. More than pretty:, attractive in a sexy, sensual way that sent his blood charging through his veins. Would she be interested in a drink after work? A coffee perhaps? She was the manager, she might be able to give herself a half-hour break.

No, he mustn’t allow himself to be diverted. The Paice’s were expecting him. He’d set this thing up and he must see it through no matter how terrible an idea it now seemed. His stomach had refused to consider anything more solid than coffee for breakfast and he was now suffering the consequences of low blood sugar. Chatting up a pretty girl was simply a delaying tactic.

But this pretty girl was more than a delaying tactic. The first sight of her had immobilised him. Literally. His limbs had jammed in place. Luckily he’d been able to snatch a cue from her apology about the large bell above his head and pretend he’d been as startled as she seemed to expect. But it wasn’t the cow bell, he’d barely registered the sound. It was Joelle.

She was smiling at him across the array of flowers and greenery and her lovely face fitted perfectly with the lushness of her surroundings. She was a flower, a delicate orchid with her pale skin and halo of blonde hair pulled up in a bundle of escaping curls and strands, which framed her face. Her lips curled up lightly at the corners even without the smile, he discovered, when he managed to organise his limbs and walk towards her. The next revelation was eyes of an intense, deep, ocean blue.

If he hadn’t had such a pressing appointment he would have stayed longer and chatted, flirted. Joelle was amenable, he knew by the slant of her gaze when she concentrated so hard on rewrapping the flowers and the tiny gasp she couldn’t suppress when their fingers touched. Her cheeks gave her away. Pink and delicious. He would happily have stayed hours enjoying the earthly and heavenly delights.

Shay opened the car and sat in the driver’s seat with the flowers across his lap. He couldn’t go back. Not yet. He had to continue what he’d started. But he would call in again. After seeing the Paices’. He might need a drink and Joelle’s would be the perfect shoulder to cry on. He lifted the bouquet and absently sniffed the perfume rising from the blooms.

Were flowers too much? Joelle said they were always right. She ought to know. Maybe she even knew Natalie Paice. He should have asked. The Paices’ had lived in the town for years. Joelle may have as well. She may even know Claire. They’d be about the same age. But he didn’t know Claire’s name and he certainly shouldn’t go blabbing his business to strangers however sympathetic and attractive.

Get going
. He laid the bouquet carefully on the passenger seat and started the engine. From studying the map he knew precisely where to go. He had a good memory, had never had too much trouble learning the interminable lists of anatomical names for his medical exams. Continue along this main street to a T junction, turn left, third right, follow the curve of the road around and take the first left. No 46.

It was hard to tell what the Paices’ reaction had been. They didn’t seem particularly surprised, more accepting that this day would arrive. “Two o’clock would suit,” William Paice had told him after a brief discussion with his wife. Were they retired that they could take time off in the middle of the day? How old were they?

“Thank you,” said Shay and had begun trying to explain himself but William had cut him short. “We understand. Friday. Two thirty. Goodbye.”

Shay pulled up in the gutter outside No 46. The house had a magnificent view. Built of pale honey coloured brick with a patio the width of the house, it sat on the high side of the street. The route had wound uphill all the way from the T-junction back in the shopping centre. Down this coastline south of Sydney, the cliffs ran parallel to the sea for miles and swung in close at times, making the inhabitable strip of land quite narrow. A lush subtropical green belt stretched from the mountains to the sparkling Pacific Ocean. Rainfall was high, temperatures in summer soared. Golden beaches attracted hordes of holidaymakers and the area was full of resident commuters escaping the congestion of the city.

The garage door was open and a dark green, new model BMW waited in the driveway. Another smaller car, a white hatchback, was undercover. The Paices’ lived very comfortably. Claire had had a much wealthier upbringing than he had. Money had always been tight at the Brookes house but no one cared. It wasn’t an issue. They learned to be happy with what they had. And they were.

Shay flung the door open and, clutching the flowers, strode across the springy green nature strip, followed the steeply rising path between well-maintained rose bushes and up the long flight of steps to the patio. The button by the door set off a gentle mellifluous chime deep in the house. He glanced briefly over his shoulder at the distant rolling blue of the ocean. Hot midday sun pounded down on his head. He should have left his jacket in the car. Sweat trickled down his side. He should have gone swimming. He shouldn’t have come here. He could nip away quickly and visit pretty Joelle instead.

Footsteps sounded in the hall and the polished wood panelled door swung open.

“William Paice.” The man held out his hand. Shay gripped it.

“Shay Brookes.”

Paice was tall and slightly stooped. His hair had thinned and what remained was white-grey and very short. The nose was prominent and curved to resemble a beak but his smile was genuine and his pale blue eyes regarded Shay with interest.

“Come in.”

Shay followed William through an open arched doorway to the left and entered the room with the veranda and the impressive view. A woman was standing by the window and he knew she’d watched him leave his car,; walk up the path and the steps to the door.

Natalie was slim and almost as tall as her husband. She’d pinned pale blonde hair into an elegant roll and her face had the austere, aloof expression of an elite fashion model. The silk of her sky blue blouse draped fluidly from her shoulders in stark contrast to the rigidity of the body beneath.

She moved smoothly forward to accept his gift of flowers with barely a smile. Heavy silver bangles jangled softly on her wrist when she extended her arm but her hand shook slightly and he realised she was as nervous as he.

“Thank you for seeing me,” he said.

“Sit down, please,” said Natalie. Her voice held the faintest trace of an accent, French? Possibly Italian. “Would you like something to drink? Tea, coffee, a cool drink?”

“No thank you.” Shay sank into the large floral patterned armchair she indicated. William settled himself on the matching sofa, facing him.

Natalie left the room and returned almost immediately without the flowers. She perched on the sofa next to her husband, her white linen slacks-clad bottom on the extreme edge of the seat, her back ramrod straight.

“Doctor Brookes, what is it you think to learn by coming here?” she asked.

Shay frowned. “I’m sorry. I thought I explained on the phone. I’m your daughter’s brother.”

“You did say that. Yes,” said William. He placed his palms precisely on his thighs and leaned forward, “the thing is, you see, we don’t quite know why you’ve come. Our daughter is unaware she has a brother and we don’t see the need to upset her by springing you on her. You can imagine the shock.”

Shay gulped. Natalie was glaring at him like a protective mother lioness. “I didn’t…I know this is sudden…” Olive had warned him, he hadn’t listened properly. So had his mother. Had he blown it already?

“Did you think you could just stroll in and announce you were her brother and not cause any disruption to her life? Our lives? Her sisters’ lives?” Natalie’s voice lost its calm and took on a steely edge. Keeping herself under very strict control. A tense, highly strung woman in danger of exploding. In need of rapid defusing.

“She has sisters?” he asked infusing his voice with calm interest.

“Yes, two. Bridget is two years younger, Melanie came later. She’s nineteen,” said Natalie. As he’d hoped she was diverted momentarily and her expression softened. “Bridget was a surprise. I expect as a doctor you know these pregnancies can occur unexpectedly after an adoption. And Melanie was even more so.”

“We didn’t think we could have a child of our own,” added William.

“Yes, I was aware of this happening sometimes.” Shay summoned a smile. “It’s a wonderful thing.” Did they love the natural children more than the adopted?

His eyes met hers briefly but she was wary and defensive and her gaze shifted to the rings on her interlocked fingers, a large diamond, gold wedding band, smaller gemstones in silver settings.

“Were you happy in your adoptive family?” asked William.

“Very happy. My parents already had three children but they took me in. I’m part of them now.”

“Good.” Natalie nodded as if confirming something to herself. “We think Joelle has been happy with us. She knows no other family, after all.” She glared at him, daring him to promote his own claim.

But Shay was too surprised to argue. His spine straightened abruptly. There couldn’t be two. He’d never heard the name before in his life. “Joelle?”

“Yes. It means Joy. She was a Joy for us. Joelle Marie.”

“In the florist’s shop? I bought the flowers from a Joelle.” He couldn’t match the way her accent gave the name a softer more rounded sound, smoothing the harshness of the ‘J’, turning a pretty name into a beautiful one. Like its owner.