This Time Forever (Australis Island) Page 5

  Jarrad didn’t look at Meg when Martin announced he was leaving and she was glad for that. Her pasted-on smile beamed at everyone except Jarrad, and she took the exclamations of dismay with a grace she did not feel, played the game to save Martin face.

  She resented him even more, the bastard. Their relationship was all too far gone now to retrieve. It was just a case of her letting go, deciding not to be the work-horse. Or the victim.

  She could barely name the rage she felt, much less contain it. But contain it she did, kept things moving smoothly and without disruption. Her voice was steady without accusing nuance or suggestion. It was like a cold hard lump in her chest that only time away from him would soften. Not soften for him, but for her. She couldn’t function with the level of rage and futility she felt.

  It was time to set things in motion and free herself.

  Still saving face, she followed Martin outside to his vehicle. He’d already climbed in behind the wheel.

  “I’ll leave the car at Tommy’s and one of the guys will bring it back tomorrow.”

  “Right.” She stood by his vehicle. “Well, have fun.”

  “I will.” He backed out of the drive.

  Silently, she said her final goodbye. He would not come back under the same circumstances as every other time. This time, Martin Wellard was on his way out of her life.

  Jarrad’s eyes caught hers briefly as she returned inside.

  He stepped into the role of host as if nothing were amiss. Between the two of them the night proceeded smoothly, and little jokes at Martin’s expense drifted into the conversation. Meg responded genially, stating, as Martin often did to anyone in earshot, that nothing was as important to Martin as his sailing.

  Everyone laughed with her. Except Jarrad.

  The wine flowed, the stories flowed, the evening flowed. And with the dishes taken care of, the table cleared and coffees finished, her guests began to drift away for the night.

  Meg was still in full chatter mode with her night-time farewells when Jarrad stopped her by the kitchen. “What’s going on?”

  “Simple,” she said and twisted away gently. “He had a sailing trip.”

  “Just like that?”

  “How else do they happen?”

  “No notice, no forethought? What about you, and this place?”

  Meg rubbed her eyes. “He always runs it by me first, usually I have a day or two longer so I get used to the idea. Why shouldn’t he go?”

  Jarrad stared at her. “You just let him go?”

  Meg rounded on him. “He does this. He sails. He’s never been any different. He tells people in front of me that he lives only for sailing. That nothing is as important to him as his sailing. He tells them that nothing comes between him and sailing. What am I supposed to do? Yell? Scream? He doesn’t hear me. He doesn’t even hear himself !”

  “Shh.” Jarrad held his finger to his lips. “Selfish prick,” he muttered, but kept his eyes keenly on hers.

  “How do you think it sounds to other people? How does it sound to you?” she went on. “Like I don’t count? I know that.” She flung her arms in the air. “How do you think I feel when people look at me when he says things like that? They look at me as if I should be hurt. Then, because I don’t show the hurt, they look at me as if I must be stupid. Nobody gives me the benefit of the doubt. Nobody thinks that I may have got so used to it that I can’t feel anything anymore,” she finished, shouting in a hoarse whisper.

  “Meg.” He gathered her into his arms. “Meg,” he murmured into her hair. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t just let him go.” Her face pressed against his neck, her mouth tingled. “There’s no reason to make him stay.”

  “It’s okay.”

  Shaking, angry, hurt again and humiliated, she felt she had to try and make like it didn’t matter.

  “Why do you let him go?”

  “Why should I make him stay? I don’t want him here. I wish—” She stopped.

  “Go on.” Jarrad held her at arm’s length.

  She looked away. “Long story, very boring. Something to do with bored housewives and my-wife-doesn’t-understand-me.”

  Jarrad chuckled. “So, who’s who?”

  “Jarrad. He’s not gay. He’s just a married bachelor.” She sank against him, sobbing out a laugh as she held on to her fragile emotions. “Oh, sorry. I wish you hadn’t been here to see it.”

  He hugged her. “Why? Because you feel all choked up about it? I reckon you’re as mad as a cut snake. Go ahead, correct me.”

  She loved the solid body close to hers. “I’m glad he’s gone. He leaves me without a backward glance, or acknowledgement, or even thanks...”

  They stood for a while, and his warmth and strength bolstered her.

  “So, are the dishes finished?” He peered over her shoulder. “I have to tell you for all my SNAG qualities, I just don’t like doing dishes.”

  She laughed, still hiding her face in his big shoulders. “Sensitive New Age Guy and you don’t do dishes? I’m disappointed.”

  “Yeah, sure.” He ducked down so he could see her eyes. “You know my story about not being an idiot?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, tell me you won’t miss him, and I’ll believe you.”

  Meg stared into his hazel eyes, serious once again. He had fine eyebrows and long lashes. His arms around her were strong against her waist. He held her like he cared, like he loved to hold her.

  “Jarrad, I hope his boat sails on an eternal sunset and he never comes back.”

  There was a moment of silence as her words sunk in.

  Jarrad dropped a tiny kiss on her lips. “Is that kinda like you won’t miss him?”

  She laughed. “Let’s have a sit down before bed,” she said. If she carried on as normal, maybe he wouldn’t notice that she’d said ‘bed’.

  “I’ll get a couple of ports.”

  “Great.”

  “So, tell me,” he said, settling alongside her on the lounge. “How long before the ship comes in?”

  “Yacht. He said maybe two weeks to go from Melbourne to Brisbane.”

  Jarrad snorted. “They’ll be five days getting around the point.”

  Meg knew what he was talking about. At this time of year she knew going from Port Philip Bay to Gabo Island or thereabouts was as difficult as tying shoelaces with one hand. Or sailing the stretch single-handedly.

  “I know. But he thinks it’s fooling me to say he’ll only take two weeks. If I minded, I’d object, trust me. He just doesn’t want to be here. Or maybe he just thinks of this as a free ride and he can do whatever he wants and get away with it.” She laughed shortly. “Seems he does.”

  Jarrad chewed it over. “There’s something wrong with the guy, Meg.”

  “When I think that, it makes me wonder if it’s just my own conceit.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with you. I can’t believe that he does it.”

  Meg sat upright. “I recall saying that you wouldn’t understand it in a million years.”

  “Yeah. I remember that.”

  “Well, you wouldn’t.” How would a normal man believe that a healthy male would not want sex with his wife, the woman he sleeps with every night?

  All normal men would find it hard to believe. That’s why it was so goddamned hard to fathom it. It’s not natural. It just reflected on her, showed her up to be less than desirable. After all, if a seemingly red-blooded male rejected her, there must be something wrong with her.

  Only, she knew that Martin wasn’t a normal red-blooded male. She was sure he wasn’t gay, so it’d been doubly hard contending with the fact that he was straight and was simply not interested in her. It bit deep. There was certainly no way she could understand it other than she was simply not attractive to him.

  Reason would always knock that idea down. Clearly, men were interested in her. Just not the one she’d married. No way could she explain it. Baffling.

  “Meg?”


  “It’s complicated.”

  “Meaning, you’re not going to explain.”

  “Exactly. I’m not going to explain.”

  He sighed. “I can’t just sit here and watch it eat away at you.”

  “You hardly know me.”

  “I’ve known you all my life.”

  “You have a dental assistant.”

  He rubbed her wrist. “Yes, I do.”

  “Known her all your life?”

  Jarrad inhaled patiently. “Not quite. Maybe four years.”

  “Ah. Surely close to marriage stage.”

  He closed his eyes. “Maybe.”

  “You don’t want to make a mess of that,” Meg said softly. She eased her hands from his. Picked up her port and sipped. But a recklessness goaded her and she shook to control it. Perhaps now that Martin was on his way she could throw caution to the wind and fling away to her hearts content.

  Except it wouldn’t be to her heart’s content. A fling just would not cut it now, it would wreck more than it would assuage. It would cruelly destroy whatever was going on here.

  “How long have you been married?” he asked.

  “Not quite a year.”

  “Oh, I thought—”

  “We’ve both been married before, and I tell you, it’s not something I’ll look for again. We lived together for six years before we married.”

  Meg imagined there was some swift calculating going on in his brain. “I sound naïve, but I think marriage means for keeps. Means forever.”

  “I did too,” Meg said, “until forever finishes. I take it you’ve never been married?”

  “No.”

  “Then think carefully about it. If you want it to be for keeps, that is.”

  “How would a person ever know?”

  Meg thought fleetingly about her first marriage. Joshua. Cultures too diverse, though they could’ve made it work if he hadn’t been so hell bent on pleasing his family instead of looking after his marriage. Meg didn’t have much patience left after four years of arguing with the whole damn tribe.

  With Martin she drifted into it, thought she wanted him for keeps when actually all she wanted was to be loved. So she bought her way in, saved his financial butt and worked hers off, for him. In the end, there was nothing between them. Martin had taken what he needed from her to claw his way back, and she was left in an emotional desert, expected to live out her life without the warmth and intimacy of a virile, vibrant partner.

  “It’s a day by day work in progress. But I’m the wrong person to ask, Jarrad.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Look,” she began. “I’ve made two big mistakes. I’m not good at this stuff. If you want to marry Candy—”

  “Cindy.”

  “Sorry. Cindy. Then go ahead. And if you want it forever, great. But forever is sometimes not as long as you think it is.” Forever, she thought, means sticking together through changes in a person’s emotional and mental growth, or their changing needs, and realising they’re a different person to you. But they have to agree to do it for you, too. “It’s a game, this forever thing, it takes two people to want it, and I can’t do this particular forever anymore.”

  “But you went for it twice.”

  “I definitely shouldn’t have gone for it the second time. I knew what he was like. Thought I could handle it because I loved him.”

  “You regret it.”

  “You’re not human if you don’t regret mistakes.”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.” He hugged her shoulder. “It’s okay to admit mistakes. But…”

  “What?”

  “No kids at all?”

  Meg stilled. No. No kids. No inclination. No urge. No interest. Maybe Martin had wanted children but he didn’t seem to care there wasn’t any. Besides, he probably thought they came from the cabbage patch. How else would they arrive?

  “I never felt that way about kids. Maybe if someone had insisted I think about it … but no one did.”

  He was silent for a minute. “You’re not too old.”

  She was silent a moment. Did he think she wanted children? Did he think he wanted children—by her? Uh uh. This was going nowhere. “Yeah. I’m too old.”

  “No, no. They can—”

  She cut him off. “I may not be physically too old, but my head is. Babies at my age. I’d be ninety-three when they got to kindy. No, not interested in that.”

  “I don’t think your maths is too good.”

  Meg sat up. “Look. Cindy’s your girl if you want babies. She’s the one.”

  Jarrad looked at his glass of port. “Your shout,” he said and handed her his glass.

  Meg refilled his glass, determined when she returned to change the subject.

  He did it for her. “You’ve got this place looking great. It’s a real home. All the guests love it.”

  She nodded. It was a good try, changing the subject. She sat down beside him again. “That’s what it is, a real home. Some of these people haven’t relaxed at home for over six weeks.”

  “Nice lifestyle you have, Meg,” he commented. “’Course, I know it’s a lot of work.”

  She looked up at him. “Depends on the company. And speaking of which, I shouldn’t be keeping the company up until all ends of the day and night again.”

  He stared at her. “You’re scared.”

  “Of what ?”

  “Staying up with me now that Martin has gone.”

  Meg sat up. “I’m not scared of anything. And Martin being gone has nothing to do with it.”

  “Then stay.”

  “Not tonight.” Too much at stake. Namely how she intended to start again.

  He stood up, swallowing the port in one gulp. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

  Meg watched as he went to his room and closed the door quietly.

  Gone again. Door shut behind him. This was starting to seem like a child’s game of tease. Or was it that, like her, he could not be sure of control. Perhaps just like her, he could feel it might be bigger than both of them.

  Her bed was cold. Empty. But it had been empty for years, even with Martin in it. Martin. What an intrusion on her thoughts.

  She wanted to get up and go tap on Jarrad’s door. And what? Just offer sex, no strings? It wouldn’t be sex and no strings. It couldn’t. She tried to ignore the rolling ache in her belly. She needed sleep, undisturbed sleep.

  But with Jarrad Scott on her mind, she wasn’t going to get it.

  This wasn’t helping the fresh start. But at least thinking about it wasn’t really a crime of any sort. Just like thinking about murder wasn’t really a crime until you did it. Like thinking about sleeping with someone other than your husband wasn’t really infidelity unless you did it.

  She laughed at herself. Well, maybe she wouldn’t be guilty of that with Jarrad, especially if she wanted that new start.

  Would it be infidelity if her husband didn’t want her anyway? Hadn’t touched her in years? Barely acknowledged her as his wife?

  So what? It didn’t matter. She would eventually make up her own mind and do things the way she wanted.

  Hot and bothered, she flung her arm over her eyes and tried to sleep.

  She tossed, still hot and now sweaty and when she finally dozed she dreamed of Jarrad Scott on his back, under her. Jarrad Scott on top of her. Jarrad Scott lying beside her. Jarrad Scott kneeling between her legs.

  Jarrad.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  “Hi, Anne.”

  “Good morning, Jarrad. Still got plenty of work?”

  “Surely do. Matter of fact, I’m off down the western end for most of the day. I’ll be there late so I reckon I might stay overnight, you know, not bother Meg with a late-arriving, smelly guest.”

  Meg couldn’t see his face from the kitchen but she knew his words were for her. She could hear it in his voice.

  Anne looked over at her. “Oh, hell, that wouldn’t bother Meg. Heavens, she’s had more smelly critters in here than you coul
d poke a stick at. Besides, I’m here to learn the ropes, so a good down-to-earth, smelly guest to learn on mightn’t be such a bad thing.” She laughed.

  Meg came out of the kitchen to take the empty coffee pot from breakfast. “Oh, don’t try and talk him out of it. You don’t want someone as smelly as this guest.” She smiled at Anne but turned to glare at Jarrad.

  He met her stare coolly then bent to pull on his Rossi boots.

  “While Jarrad’s getting himself ready for his smelly day, why don’t you and I start in these first two rooms, Anne? They have to be completely cleaned. The guests left this morning.”

  “Right. Oh, by the way, I saw Tommy down the street earlier. He said he and the guys would drop your car back today.”

  Jarrad glanced up. Meg glanced away. “Great, thanks.”

  Anne looked at Jarrad, as if trying to decide something. “So, that means Martin has taken another sailing trip.”

  “Yep. You know those sailing trips.”

  “Yep.” Anne glanced again at Jarrad who was staring at Meg. “Well, I reckon I know where the cleaning equipment is.”

  “I’ll be there in a tick, Anne.” Meg walked back to the kitchen, coffee pot in hand. Jarrad didn’t follow. She rinsed the pot, rinsed the plunger, and dried each piece of equipment.

  “Meg.”

  “Just go, Jarrad. You’ll feel better being away from here. I understand, really. I’ll refund you—”

  “That’s not it.”

  Meg inhaled. “If you’re worried about being on your own with a lone, older female looking for a broad shoulder to cry on, think again. I’m not the clinging type.”

  “You’re making me angry.”

  “Then get angry. If you want to stay away overnight, stay away. It’s none of my business, and I don’t need to hear lame duck excuses like, ‘I’ll be so-o smelly’.”

  Jarrad eyed her. “Many guests tonight?”

  “Enough.” There weren’t any. But suddenly she wanted this mini break and she didn’t want a frightened male within coo-ee.

  “Okay, well, I think it’s better if I stay out.”

  “Good for you,” Meg said and smiled, hoping it wasn’t too bright a smile. “You’ve got stuff to do. Good idea. The guys down the western end are great.”