Authors: Rosalind James
“It’s awesome,” Zack said, closing his palm around it. Then
handed it back to Nic.
“You keep it,” Nic said. “Souvenir of our day at the beach.
Got a pocket there?” He helped Zack stow the stone in the small mesh pocket of
his trunks.
“And our day at the beach is getting a bit cold,” Emma remarked.
“Time to start walking back, don’t you think?”
Nic helped Emma gather the detritus of their picnic, then
shook the towel out into the wind, rolled it again, took the beach bag from her
and stowed it inside. Set off with the two of them to retrace their steps. The
wide expanse of sand, the wind, were exhilarating despite the chill, and he
felt a bubble of happiness rise within him. He dropped the bags, took a few
running steps, then turned a cartwheel and came up laughing. Emma let go of
Zack’s hand and launched into four or five perfect cartwheels of her own, one
after the other, a human pinwheel. And landed on her feet again, laughing in
triumph, face flushed from the effort.
“Why didn’t I know you could do that?” Nic asked as Zack
came running up to join them.
“You never asked me,” she answered cheekily.
“Show me how!” Zack demanded. “Please,” he amended at a
warning look from his mother.
“OK. Face me,” Nic told him. “Legs apart, see? Now put your
hands up over your head. Then just swing them around, and kick on over.”
Zack gave a hop, swung both legs awkwardly without getting
them close to vertical. “That’s not it, though,” he complained. “That isn’t
right.”
“Here. Your mum can demonstrate, and I’ll hold you,” Nic said.
“We’ll show your body what it feels like.”
Emma performed a slow cartwheel while Zack, with Nic’s help,
mirrored her movements. “Cool!” the boy said once he was upright again.
“Kick off a bit faster,” Nic coached. “Get a bit of momentum
going.”
With their help, Zack was soon turning enthusiastic, if
imperfect, cartwheels, and the three of them practiced until Nic suddenly
kicked up instead into a handstand, then took seven or eight steps on his hands
before landing neatly on his feet again.
“How about that?” he challenged Emma. “Got that in your
repertoire, have you?”
“You’re still the best at that one,” she admitted. “I can
get up there, just can’t walk like you can.” Her handstand was neat, toes
pointed, her skirt dropping down around her shoulders to reveal the swimming
costume—and the body—beneath, distracting Nic. Geez, she had pretty legs.
“Show me how!” Zack begged, prompting another bit of
coaching.
“Here’s one I bet I’m still better at,” Emma told Nic. She
moved slowly from a standing position into an arched backbend, turning her body
into a perfect bow, then lifted her hands from the sand and came back the same
way she’d descended.
“Well?” she challenged with a glint in her eye.
“Never tried that one,” he admitted. “But I’ll give it a
go.” He wasn’t sure he looked as good as she had, but he managed it. “Never
knew you had these hidden talents,” he said, looking up at her from his
upside-down position.
“Gymnastics when I was a teenager,” she explained. ‘I don’t
think I could do much on the uneven bars these days, but I can still turn a
cartwheel or two.”
Nic bent his legs, lifted off without much effort and was
upright again. “That’ll get the spine sorted,” he commented. “Reckon I grew a
couple centimeters there.”
“That or bugger it completely,” she agreed ruefully, rubbing
the small of her back. “I may have been a bit overenthusiastic, showing you my
coming-up technique. It’s been a while.”
“I can’t make myself go over,” Zack complained. He was bent
over backwards from the waist, waving his arms.
Emma laughed. “Here. Start lying on your back. Much easier.”
She dropped to the sand, to Nic’s amazement. She didn’t seem to mind how much
of it she was collecting in her hair. He tried to imagine Claudia getting this
messy, and failed utterly.
“Put your hands like this. Thumbs towards your head. No,
other way,” Emma was explaining. Nic stepped to Zack’s head and repositioned
his arms, grinning back at the little face looking up at him.
“Now push up. Use your legs,” Emma instructed as she
demonstrated.
“Like this?” Zack asked.
“That’s brilliant,” Nic told him. “You and your mum. What a
picture.” Upside down, heads turned to laugh at each other. It was a picture he
needed, he decided. He ran for his pack, pulled out his phone and took a quick
snap before the two of them thumped down to their backs again, sprawled on the
sand to catch their breath.
A couple was approaching from the other direction, Nic saw.
Holding hands. He walked to meet them, held out the phone. “D’you mind taking a
photo of the three of us?”
“No worries,” the young man said cheerfully, reaching for
it. “Tell me when.”
“It’s a special pose,” Nic explained. “Give us a sec.” He
jogged back the few meters to Emma and Zack. “Group shot,” he told them. “Same
as before. Can your back manage it?” he thought to ask Emma.
“One more can’t hurt. Come on, Zack.” Under Nic’s direction,
they all dropped, their heads facing the photographer, then pushed up together.
“This is it,” Nic called. “Quick, before Emma collapses.”
“Ha! Before you do,” she challenged, sticking her tongue out
at him and making him laugh.
“OK. Look at me. Annnndd . . . got it,” the young man
announced triumphantly. Nic sank back down to the sand, then jumped to his feet
and reached out a hand to pull a slower Emma up as Zack clambered to stand as
well.
“That better have worked,” Emma said as Nic took the phone
from the young man with a word of thanks. “That’s my limit, I think.”
“Aren’t you Nic Wilkinson?” the young woman with the
photographer asked curiously.
“Yeh. That’s me,” he said, stowing the phone away again.
“How d’you think you’ll go in the semis?” her boyfriend
asked. “Who’re you hoping to play?”
“Whoever turns up on the night,” Nic assured him. “Prepared
for both, but we’ll get it sorted this next week, depending on what happens
tonight.”
“I’ve got a bit on you winning the Super 15,” the young man
said. “So here’s hoping you get that right.”
“We’ll give it a go,” Nic promised. “We’re ready. Not too
many injuries, that’s the main thing.”
“Good luck,” the young man said. “To both of us.”
“Cheers, mate.” Nic turned to see Emma brushing the sand
from Zack’s back and hair. “We’ll be getting on, then. Thanks for the photo.”
“No worries.” The young man and girl set off again, with a
curious glance back at the three of them.
“No pressure, huh?” Emma said wryly. She reached to brush
off his own back, his shoulders. Then seemed to change her mind, dropped her
hand. “We’d better get on,” she said quickly. “Are you watching the game at
home?”
“Yeh.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve got a bit of sand in
your hair yourself.”
“Oh.” She pulled off her hat, bent from the waist, scrubbed at
her head vigorously, came back up with her curls in wild disorder, attempted to
finger-comb them into place, then gave it up and put the hat back on again. Her
cheeks were pink, her eyes sparkling. “Better?”
“Yeh,” he smiled. “Better. But only a shower’s really going
to help any of us.”
“A shower and then a bath, for me,” she said. “After Zack
has his. I showed off way too much there. I’m going to need a long soak
tonight.”
Her eyes met his, and he could see the moment when the
memory hit her too. When they were both thinking about the same thing. About the
huge soaking tub that had held pride of place in one corner of the big
bure.
A pillow at each end, the multitude of candles surrounding the rim, all of
which they’d lit that night. The only light other than the moon’s soft
illumination through the wide windows and doors. The scented oil in the water
making both their bodies slick. They’d started at opposite ends, and he’d
watched her sink lower, eyes closing in bliss as he’d massaged a slim,
pedicured foot with its pale pink toenails, strong thumbs working on her heel,
then moving over the arch with a lighter touch.
He ran his own foot up her inner thigh, rubbed it softly against
her while he shifted his attention to her other foot.
“I should do you,” she murmured. “But I’m too relaxed to
move. And you’re making me feel too good.”
“Stay like that. I like you this way. Too sleepy to resist.”
She opened her eyes halfway, gave him a secret little smile.
“Hmm. What are you planning over there? Going to drown me? You already tried
that, remember?”
“Nah.” His hand was on her instep, thumb stroking the
delicate spot at her inner ankle where the pulse beat. He could feel it picking
up now as his own foot continued to move gently over her. “I’ll try to make it
more pleasant this time. Get you all the way there, too. But I do need you over
here.” He gave a little tug. “Time to shift yourself.”
“Love how you do what I say,” he told her as she came to
him. “Have I mentioned that?”
“Mmm. Just because you have good ideas,” she murmured as he
reached out to position her over him, raised his hands to her breasts, soft and
slick with the bath oil. “I do like it in the water,” she sighed.
“And I like it everywhere,” he said, beginning to move her
as she curled against him. “Every way.”
It was true, he thought now, looking at her and knowing she
was remembering too. It had all been so good. Slow and tender, or hard and
fast. Like the time he hadn’t been able to wait until they got back to the
bure,
after dinner. And had pulled her between two outbuildings, taken her against
the wall. And had had to make it up to her later. Which had been fun too.
Her eyes widened at the look in his own. She shifted her
gaze, glanced down, then looked up again in confusion, the blush creeping up
her cheeks.
“Sorry,” he said ruefully. “Can’t help it.”
“It’s not right,” she said in distress. “You’re engaged.”
“Yeh. Thought we could do this, but better not, eh.”
“Mum!” Nic was running towards them now, and they both
turned to him in thankful relief. The boy was holding a piece of driftwood,
twisted and shaped by the water into a sinuous curve. “Doesn’t this look like a
dragon?”
“Taking that home, mate?” Nic asked him.
“I’m going to put it on my shelf,” Zack told him. “With my
stone. It’s a treasure. There are heaps of good things over here. Come see!”
“We need to get back anyway,” Emma decided. “Time to go. Oh,
my bag.”
“I’ll get it,” Nic told her. Loped off and was soon headed
back again. Emma took Zack’s hand and set off, leaving Nic to follow behind,
wrestling with his confused thoughts.
“See, Mum?” Zack said when they got to the spot where the
angle of the shore had resulted in a collection of driftwood. “Isn’t it cool? I
thought you’d like it. Because they’re interesting, aren’t they?”
“They are!” she agreed with delight. She zeroed in on a short
section of log that had been battered by time and tide, the cylindrical shape perfectly
flat at both ends. “Wouldn’t this be a great end table?” She ran her hands over
it, taking obvious pleasure in the smooth surfaces, the dips and bulges. “I
wish I could take it.”
“Why not?” Nic asked.
She sighed. “I could get it back to your car if we were
closer. We could roll it, huh, Zack? But it’s too far.”
Nic picked it up, tested its weight. “Not too bad. D’you
really want it? I can bring it along, if you do.”
“It’s too heavy,” she objected. “And too far back to the
car.”
He hefted it a couple times. “Nah. Not even 20 kilos, I
reckon. And less than a kilometer to the carpark. No worries. D’you want it?”
“As long as you don’t hurt yourself,” she said dubiously.
“Do me a favor,” he said, pained. “I may not be a forward.
Just a lowly fullback. But I can shift this.”
“It’s so awesome!” Zack was bouncing along next to her,
hardly able to contain himself. “You get to have a new table, Mum! Because
Nic’s strong!”
Emma smiled down at him. “We’ll walk fast, all the same.
It’s still a long way for him to carry that heavy thing, no matter what he
says.”
The carpark didn’t turn up any too soon, Nic admitted to
himself. He didn’t want to think how much of his offer had come from wanting to
impress both of them. Because this thing was bloody heavy. He set it down next
to the ute, careful to avoid any exhalation of breath that would have given
away his relief at being shed of the burden. Rummaged for his keys and opened
the back, hefted the load into the Toyota and slammed the door on it.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Emma said. She had cast him
continual worried glances on the walk back. “I really do want it, but you
didn’t have to.” She toweled herself and Zack off as best she could to remove
the worst of the sand, then handed the towel to Nic. “We’re going to get things
pretty sandy, too.”
“That’s why I have a ute,” he reminded her. “That’s the
idea.”
“Yeh, Mum,” Zack put in. “When we went camping, it got
really muddy, didn’t it, Nic?”
“It did. That was a pretty wet trip, wasn’t it, mate? Bit of
a challenge.”
“Yeh,” Zack agreed, dropping his eyes.
“Oi,” Nic said gently. “Look at me.” He waited until Zack
obeyed, then went on. “I told you, you did fine.”
“I cried, though,” Zack said in a small voice.
“Because you’re six. And it was the first time, and you
missed your Mum. Come on, now. Let’s get you back home and into that bath.
Because, mate. You’re carrying enough sand on you to set up your own beach.”
He pulled up into the steep driveway in front of the house,
brought the Toyota to a stop and set the brake.
“I’ll just take this thing in for you, put it where you want
it,” he told Emma. “You OK?” he asked in a lower voice, as she bent to gather
their things.