Persuading Spring: A Sexy New Zealand Romance (The Four Seasons Book 4) (21 page)

He held his hand out to Bridget, and she
slid hers into it.

“Yes,” he said, “that’s right. Being brave
doesn’t mean putting up with it, Mat. Being brave would be sorting it out. It’s
standing up and saying that it’s not okay for one person to intimidate another.
Your teachers will help, but they can’t if they don’t know what’s going on.
They think it’s all been sorted because you haven’t said anything. If you tell
them, they have to take action. The boys need to be suspended and to have to
sit before the board and explain themselves. And maybe that’ll be enough to
make them think that you’re not weak, and you’re not going to be an easy
target.”

He listened again. “Okay. Look, think about
it over the weekend. I’ll do whatever you want—if you’d rather talk to the teachers
yourself, that’s fine, or Mum and I can come in with you. It’s up to you. But
doing nothing is not an option. All right, son. Try not to worry.
Kia kaha
.”
He hung up.

“What does that mean?” Bridget asked
softly.

“
Kia kaha
? Stay strong.”

She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed
it. “I’m so sorry.”

He sighed. “Yeah. It’s not easy. If he
doesn’t go to the teachers himself on Monday, I might have to intervene. He
won’t like it, but I can’t have him upset like this all the time. It does worry
me. Even if he does report these boys, and even if they are suspended or even
expelled, he’s right—it could make things worse—it could make them want
revenge.”

She curled up next to him, and he put his
arm around her. “Will you talk to Nita about it?”

“He didn’t want me to because he said she
gets upset and cries. She just sees it as another reason why she should take
him to Spain. But I will talk to her, if nothing happens on Monday.”

“I’m sure he’ll do what’s best. He is your
son, so I’m sure he has a strong moral compass and a sense of what’s right and
wrong.”

He smiled and kissed her. “You know just
what to say to make me feel better.”

“You too.” She pulled the duvet over them
both. “Some things are worth fighting for, Aaron.”

Bridget’s words kept passing through
Aaron’s head on Saturday, as if they were uncollected luggage on an airport
conveyor belt.
Some things are worth fighting for.
At the time, he
hadn’t been sure whether she was talking about their relationship or Mateo—maybe
both. He hadn’t asked her, because her soft, warm body had distracted him, but
they rang true deep within him.

A calm resolve had settled over him, and he
was glad of it on Saturday as they attended Joe’s birthday party at the
marae
,
because, as he’d suspected, it turned out to be a trying affair.

On the surface, it was just a pleasant
celebration. Joe’s
whanau
had organized a
hangi
—a traditional
Maori method for cooking food. It involved a large pit dug into the ground and filled
with heated stones and slow-burning logs, onto which they placed wire baskets
lined with banana leaves and full of meat and vegetables, leaving them to cook
for hours so the meat fell off the bone and the vegetables were tender. The
nearby school’s
kapa haka
group did a performance of traditional Maori
song and dance, followed by Joe’s brother and his band who played both old and
new songs for all the generations to sing along to.

Bridget found it delightful, and in turn
Aaron was transfixed by her, unable to tear his gaze away from her all
afternoon. She wore a simple pale pink sundress, and with her blonde hair
floating around her shoulders she looked like the spring goddess after whom she’d
been named, fresh and young and beautiful. Throughout the afternoon, everyone
had done their best to try to get her to say whether the two of them were going
to continue to see each other, but she’d gracefully managed to sidestep the
issue each time with enough poise to make him feel a growing admiration for her
with every hour that passed.

“Stop staring,” someone said from behind
him. “Your tongue is practically hanging out like a cartoon character.”

He looked up to see his sister taking a
seat on one of the plastic chairs opposite him. Bridget was talking to Izzy and
Pam and a couple of other women near the drinks table, while Joe danced with
Pam’s two young daughters on the green in front of the band, twirling them
around to the music. His parents were talking to Joe’s parents, hopefully discussing
how well their sons were doing with the business rather than what idiots they
both were.

Aaron was taking the opportunity for a
quiet break and sat sipping a latte while listening to the band’s rendition of
Bowie’s
Changes
, which wasn’t bad at all. Tycho and Kepler lay by his
side, worn out after chasing each other around the green and being stuffed full
of lamb and sausages by half a dozen different people.

“I like staring.” He held out his coffee
cup so she could clink hers against it in a gesture of welcome. “She’s like
Aloe vera for the eyes.”

“Aw. You are soft on her, aren’t you?” Fran
gave him a look that was half affectionate, half worried. “I hope you know what
you’re doing.”

“I never know what I’m doing. It’s not
stopped me before, though.”

She laughed, put her hand on his arm, and
gave it a quick, affectionate rub. “She seems nice.”

“She is nice. Very nice.”

“Are you in love with her?”

He opened his mouth to reply but was
interrupted by another voice.

“Wait! I want to hear the answer to this.”

He sent his mother a wry look as she and
his father took the chairs on his left. “Go away,” he said affectionately.
“Stop bothering me.”

“So that’s a yes, then?” Fran said.

William Reed grinned, but Clara Reed’s brow
creased in a frown. In her late fifties, she had wavy silver hair cut in a
fashionable bob, plain gold studs in her ears, and she wore cream trousers with
a smart, fawn-colored top. She looked like what she was—an off-duty lawyer.
Aaron had never seen his mother look remotely scruffy.

“Aaron,” she said. “Sweetheart.”

“Don’t start.” He took a large swig of his
latte.

“I have to, darling. It’s the law.”

It was what she’d always said to him when
she wanted to get her own way since he was a boy, and he chuckled. “I’m too old
to fall for that one anymore, Mum. Just let it rest.”

“I can’t.” She looked genuinely upset now.
“Joe’s been telling me what you’ve been up to, and I’m worried about you.”

“And how does Joe know what I’ve been up
to?”

“Binoculars,” Joe said, coming to sit
beside Fran and stealing her coffee cup to take a swig from it. “You can get a
great view of the garden from over the fence.”

Aaron coughed into his cup. “What?”

“I’m joking,” Joe said, amused. “So what
have you been getting up to in the garden?”

“Nothing,” Aaron said hoarsely as all eyes
turned on him with amused interest. “Can we please change the subject?”

“Is Bridget going back to Wellington
tomorrow?” his mother asked, ignoring his plea.

“Yes, on the eleven thirty.”

“What will happen then?”

“A change at Auckland, and touch down in
the capital around two, I’d imagine.”

“Aaron…”

“I don’t know,” he said, somewhat
helplessly. “We haven’t talked about it yet.”

“So you don’t know if you’re going to see
her again?”

“No.”

“No you’re not, or no you haven’t talked
about it yet?”

“No, can you all mind your business and
stop bothering me.” He shoved a hand in the pockets of his jeans and pulled out
a small velvet box.

“Jesus,” Fran said. “Seriously?”

He heard his mother’s intake of breath and saw
his father’s startled look, and rolled his eyes. “No. It’s for Joe.” He shoved
the box into Joe’s hand.

“Sorry mate, already spoken for.”

“Will you just open the fucking thing?”

“Aaron, language,” his mother scolded.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. How could mothers
always make you feel twelve-years-old no matter what age you were? “Happy
birthday.”

Joe opened it and laughed. “I love it.” He
turned the box around to show the others. It was a tie pin with a tiny
stethoscope next to a paw print. “Are you trying to tell me I need to smarten
up?”

“Wearing the occasional shirt wouldn’t kill
you.”

Joe grinned. “Thanks, bro.”

“Oh?” Bridget rested her hand on Aaron’s
shoulder and looked at the box in Joe’s hand. “Have you two set a date?”

“Ha ha.” He watched her take the seat
beside him, with Izzy sitting next to Joe. “I hope you’ve come to rescue me.
They’re ganging up on me.”

“Joe said he has a good view of Aaron’s
garden through his binoculars,” Fran said.

Bridget’s pale cheeks immediately flushed
bright rose. Aaron tried not to laugh and glared at his sister. “Will you stop?
You’re making us both uncomfortable.”

“Sorry.” Fran stuck her tongue out at him,
proving she was far from apologetic.

“It’s been lovely to meet you, Bridget,”
Clara said. “I hope it’s not the last time we’ll see you.”

Aaron felt the first real flicker of
irritation. Not only was Clara being two-faced, because she quite clearly
didn’t approve of him seeing Bridget, but she was fishing in an underhand way
to discover whether Bridget was planning to stay a part of his life.

“Clara,” William said. “Let them be.”

“What? I’m only being polite.”

“I don’t see what all the fuss is about,”
Aaron snapped. “You’ve all been nagging me for ages to start dating again.”

“You know that’s not what we’re saying,”
Clara said. “Sweetheart, you’ve had such a hard time. We’re just worried you’re
going to make the same mistake again.”

He put his coffee cup on the table with a
bang. “For Christ’s sake, I’m thirty-four and more than capable of looking
after myself, even though none of you seem to think so.”

“Aaron,” his mother scolded. “Stop
overreacting.”

“I’m not overreacting. I’m saying what I’m
feeling.” He knew that his friends and family thought themselves acting out of
kindness, but that didn’t give them the right to try to bully him out of this
relationship with the mistaken idea that they knew what he wanted better than
he did.

“I’ve been on my own for over two years. I
haven’t even come close to dating again. And now I’ve met someone, and I don’t
care if she lives on Mars—I’m crazy about her, and I don’t appreciate you
quizzing her about our relationship. It’s incredibly rude, and I think she’s
been more than patient with you.”

“Aaron…”

Clara stopped as Pam walked up and stood
before them, an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry to interrupt,” she
said, “but I’ve had an emergency call. It’s Mrs. Lyttle. Barnaby’s collapsed.
She’s quite distraught. I think someone should go out and see her.”

“I’ll go,” William said, putting down his
drink.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go.” Aaron didn’t want
to stay anyway. He was sick of all the questions, and although he loved his
friends and family dearly, he needed a bit of space.

Bridget stood as he got to his feet. “I’ll
go with you if you like.”

“Are you sure?” He hesitated. Mrs. Lyttle’s
old spaniel had been unwell for some time. If the dog had collapsed, Aaron
doubted there was much he could do for it. “It’s probably not going to be
pleasant. I could call a taxi to take you home.”

“No, that’s okay. I’d like to help.”

“Okay, come on then.”

“Leave Tycho and Kepler with me if you
like,” Joe said. “You can pick them up tomorrow.”

“All right. Thanks, mate.”

Clara stood, clearly worried she’d upset
her son. “Aaron, I’m sorry…”

“It’s all right. I’ll talk with you later.”

“Nice to have met you all,” Bridget said,
and everyone returned the compliment.

Aaron held out a hand. She slipped hers
into it, and they headed off to the car.

“I’m sorry,” she said as they walked. “I
feel a bit responsible for this afternoon. Your family is obviously going to be
worried about you. I shouldn’t have gone.”

“It’s not your fault, honey,” he said,
touched that she felt the need to apologize. “Far from it. I’m just really
sorry they kept going on about it. I should have guessed they wouldn’t let it
rest. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. They’re right, in a way. We do
have to have that conversation.”

He unlocked the car and they got in. He
didn’t want to have the conversation. He wanted to bury his head in the sand
and enjoy the last few hours they had together without worrying about what was
to come, but he knew he couldn’t put it off forever.

And now they had another problem to contend
with. He told Bridget about Mrs. Lyttle and her dog as he drove them the short
distance across Russell to her house. “Barnaby’s fourteen, so he’s not young,
and he has something called copper-storage disease that’s caused hepatitis—that’s
inflammation of the liver. I’m afraid this isn’t good news. I’m guessing his
liver has finally failed.”

“Is there anything you can do?”

“We’ve done everything we can. We’ve been
battling it for years with diet and drugs, and he’s been lucky to make it to
fourteen. I’m hoping he’s in no pain and near the end.” He hated putting
animals to sleep, and he doubted that Harriet Lyttle would let him do that
anyway.

They arrived at her small house buried
amongst the palms and ferns, and made their way to the front door. He rang the
bell, but she didn’t answer, so he beckoned to Bridget and led the way around
the back.

Mrs. Lyttle sat on the deck, up against the
window on a pile of cushions, with the dog on her lap. As soon as he saw the
dog, Aaron knew he didn’t have long.

She turned a pale face up to him. Tears
stained her cheeks, and some of her gray hair had escaped her bun to stick to
them. “Can you do anything?”

Aaron dropped to his haunches beside her,
half aware that Bridget had slipped into the kitchen. He heard the sound of her
filling the kettle as he inspected the dog, listened to his pulse, and lifted
his eyelids.

“I’m sorry,” he said as gently as he could.
“His eyes are yellow. His liver’s failed. His heartbeat is very weak. It won’t
be long now.”

Tears slid down her face. “I don’t know
what I’m going to do without him.”

“I know.” He knew there was no point in
suggesting she leave the dog and sit in a comfortable chair, not until she had
to. “Can I get you anything? Bridget’s making you a cup of tea.”

“That would be nice.” The answer was
automatically polite; he wasn’t sure if she’d even heard him.

So he lowered himself onto the floor and
sat against the glass beside her. He put a hand on Barnaby’s head and stroked
his ear. “Where did you get him from? Here in Russell?”

“No.” She wiped her face. “I drove all the
way to the Hokianga for him. He was very small then, but he was so good on the
journey home—he didn’t make a peep. He was excited to go to his new family.”