In His Good Hands (13 page)

The morning had dawned clear with a light breeze clipping the foam off the waves. Brett had coaxed Tegan out of bed with blueberry pancakes, and enticed her down to the beach with the promise of a few hours on the water, just the two of them.

His daughter pushed windblown hair out of her face as she glanced up. “How come you’re being so nice all of a sudden?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Brett said, keeping an eye out for shallow rocks. Water dripped off his board shorts into the cockpit, but his legs were already feeling the warmth of the sun.

“Videos last night, pancakes this morning.” Tegan leaned forward and adjusted the sheet.

Brett repositioned his baseball cap before turning his attention to her. “There
is
something I want to talk to you about.”

Tegan sat up straighter. “We’re moving back to the city?”

“No,” Brett said, surprised by the suggestion. “Why would you want to leave all this for the smog and traffic there?”

“Mum. My friends.” Tegan glanced wistfully at the skyline of Melbourne in the distance. “Never mind. What did you want to talk about?”

Brett figured he’d better start with the smallest problem. Trouble was, he didn’t know which that was—Renita or the Brownlow. “For one thing, I asked Renita to go to your dance with me.”

Tegan’s face fell. “You said
I
was your date.”

When they went to the mall, Tegan walked five paces in front of him so no one would know she was out in public with her father. “Renita hasn’t said yes,” he replied. “She may not be able to come.”

“But I thought you two were just friends.”

“We
are
just friends.” He’d asked her out on a whim; that didn’t mean anything had changed between them. “Don’t worry so much. At the dance you’re going to be hanging with the other kids.”

“They all hate me.”

“Of course they don’t hate you.”

“You don’t know what it’s like.”

“If it’s that bad, then maybe we shouldn’t go.”

“I
have
to go.”

“Why?”

Tegan didn’t reply, for as they came out of the shelter of the point, a gust of wind pushed the boat ahead. She let out the sail, altering their course away from the rocks, and gripped the tiller hard, trying to hold it steady against the wind and current.

“Do you want me to steer?” Brett said, eyeing the waves surging over the black basalt boulders only yards away.

“I’m okay,” she said, again scraping windblown strands of hair out of her eyes.

Brett kept his gaze on the rocks. “The other thing is I sold my Brownlow Medal.”

Tegan glanced at him, wide-eyed. “You
what?
”

“I sold—”

“Never mind. I heard. How could you do that?”

“I didn’t think you would care that much,” he said, honestly surprised at the strength of her reaction.

“I remember the night you won that medal. You were so happy.” Tegan blinked from the salt spray coming off the hull. “Whenever the sports guys talk about you on TV it’s always Brett O’Connor, Brownlow Medal winner. How can you throw away something that means so much to you?”

“I didn’t ‘throw it away.’” Brett swiveled to meet her teary blue eyes. “I needed the money to buy new exercise machines for the gym.”

“The gym.” Tegan’s voice was flat with disbelief. “Everything’s about the gym. Even this morning you only wanted to go sailing so you could tell me about the medal. Which is really about the gym, right?”

He’d been afraid she would take it this way. “The fitness center is my livelihood. I didn’t want to sell my medal. I
had
to. I know the past few months have been tough. I haven’t had much time for you. That will change, I prom—”

He broke off abruptly as, without warning, the sail ripped away from the sheet cleating it to the deck. The white triangle flapped wildly and the dinghy tilted, pushed across the bay by the wind, but without enough speed for the tiller to have any effect.

They were heading toward the rocks.

“Dad!” Tegan cried, her face white. “Do something!”

Brett grabbed a paddle and scrambled to the bow.

The dinghy hit a rocky outcropping and lurched, nearly throwing him out. Clinging to the mast with one hand, he used the paddle to push them off the rocks. With a loud scraping sound the small vessel slid sideways through the foaming waves. Tegan stood in the cockpit and grappled with the sail. She looped the sheet through the grommet and tied it off, then hauled the canvas in close. Brett paddled to bring the dinghy around.

Tegan huddled in the cockpit, the tiller tucked tightly to her side, still pale.

They were out of danger, heading for calmer water.

Brett stowed the paddle and went to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I want to go back.”

“We were lucky. It could have been worse.” He rubbed her arm. “What happened there?”

“The knot holding the sail came loose.”

A knot she’d tied.

“You did well, getting the dinghy back under control,” he murmured.

She shrugged, huddled into herself.

“Don’t worry. You’ll practice your knots and get them right next time.”

“I don’t care about the knots or the stupid sailboat!” She brushed a hand across her eyes. “I told Oliver you’d show him your Brownlow Medal. It was the only thing I could think of to get his attention. Now you’ve sold it. Do you have any idea how embarrassing it’s going to be to tell him?”

“Who’s Oliver?” Brett asked.

“A boy at school. Renita knows him. They’re related somehow.”

Hell.
Brett rubbed a hand over his face. “Oh, so you were worried about me losing the medal because it means so much to me, were you?”

“That’s still true,” she stated sullenly.

“Don’t tell him,” he said, exasperated. “Say it’s locked away in a safety deposit box or something.”

“He’ll hear about the sale. It’s going to be in all the newspapers. How could you do it, Dad?” she wailed. “No one sells their Brownlow Medal. No one but
losers.
”

Brett tensed, but he kept his temper, determined not to react. “You don’t need to use my medal to attract a boy. Just smile and be friendly. You’re so lovely, Tegan. Just be yourself.”

“Myself?” She glanced at him, tears in her eyes. “What if that’s not enough?”

She wasn’t just a loans manager or a math whiz or a tomboy who liked animals. She was a woman. No one ever seemed to notice that. Tonight everyone would. Well, chaperones, teachers and a school full of teenagers, anyway.

Brett
would notice.

By seven she was ready. Hair, nails, makeup, dress and shoes—
tick.
On the outside, she was as calm as a millpond. On the inside, frogs were leaping.

The bell rang. She opened the door.

Brett wore a dark gray suit and crisp white dress shirt open at the neck. He was clean-shaven, his blond hair gleaming.

He whistled softly. “You look amazing.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She picked up her clutch purse from the hall table. “Is Tegan okay with me coming?”

He hesitated a fraction of a second before he said, “She’s fine with it.”

Right.

Girding herself for another battle with the teen queen, Renita descended the steps. She had a hand on Brett’s arm to steady herself in her four-inch heels, her wrap slipping off her bare shoulders. The evening was warm; dusk was settling over the treetops. A single bright star glowed in an indigo sky.

Tegan was in the back of the car, the colorful dress they’d bought together arranged carefully. Her hair was swept into a ponytail, with long strands hanging on either side of her oval chin. She clenched her hands tightly in her lap.

“You look lovely,” Renita told her as she climbed into the front passenger seat.

“Thanks,” Tegan replied. A beat passed before she added, “You do, too.”

The pause was just long enough to take the shine off the compliment and to cause an awkward silence to settle over the car. Renita tried not to take it personally. She was the adult here, after all.

The brightly lit school gymnasium was decorated with balloons and streamers. A DJ was setting up his sound equipment on the stage, flanked by speakers. Girls and boys clustered at the edges and crowded around tables loaded with soft drinks and finger food. Teachers and parents dotted the gym. Brett introduced Renita to the principal, Blair Nicholson, and they picked up their ID badges from a table near the door.

“Are you going to go find Amy?” Brett asked his daughter.

Tegan shrank closer to his side. “Maybe later.”

Renita met Brett’s gaze over the top of Tegan’s head, her eyebrows raised.
What’s going on?

He made a slight movement of his head, mouthing the word
nervous.

“Whatever you do, don’t embarrass me, okay, Dad?” Tegan said.

“How could I do that?” Brett demanded.

“By dancing weirdly or singing along to the music.”

Renita glanced around. “What are we supposed to do as chaperones?”

“The information sheet said our job is to circulate, patrol the halls now and then,” Brett explained. “Make sure kids aren’t drinking or doing drugs, that there aren’t any fights and no one’s making out behind the bleachers.”

“Do we get to dance?” Renita asked.

“Sure, as long as we don’t look—” he winked at Tegan and waggled his fingers “—weird.”

“Dad!” Tegan groaned. “You’re doing it now.”

“Look, there’s Oliver,” Renita said, seeing a blond, curly head in a group of boys. She waved across the room. “Hey, Olly. Over here.”

“Oh, my God.” Tegan buried her face in her dad’s jacket. “I’m going to die.”

Oliver saw Renita and his cheeks burned crimson. Dutifully, he broke away from his mates to come and say hello. Then he spotted Brett and his footsteps quickened. “Hey, Renita. Tegan.” With a worshipful smile, he said to Brett, “Hey.”

“This is my dad,” Tegan mumbled.

On stage, the DJ tested the microphone by saying a few words of welcome.

“Nice to meet you, Oliver,” Brett said, shaking the boy’s hand. “I understand you’re into football.”

“I’m a big supporter of Collingwood. It’s so cool that you’re living in Summerside.”

“Thanks for the welcome,” Brett replied. “Drop in to the gym. Tegan’s usually there after school. And bring your exercise gear. The first visit is free.”

“Cool.” Oliver shuffled his feet. “Uh, Tegan said you’d show me your Brownlow Medal. I mean, if that’s okay.”

Tegan’s gaze dropped to the floor. She seemed to shrink into herself.

Renita was trying to think of a diversion when, to her surprise, Brett replied easily, “Sure. Anytime.”

Tegan stared at her father.

“Cool!” Oliver nodded and grinned.

Up on the stage the DJ put on the first disc, and Amy Winehouse’s sultry vocals blared from the speakers. Renita cleared her throat and sent Oliver a meaningful glance.

Her nephew looked blank, then light dawned. “Oh, right.” He stuck his hands in the back pockets of his skinny jeans. “Uh, Tegan, do you want to dance?”

The girl hesitated, clearly still worried about the medal.

“It’ll be all right,” Brett said.

Smiling shyly, his daughter turned to Oliver. “Okay.”

Renita watched the young couple merge onto the dance floor. “Why on earth did you tell Olly you’d show him your medal?”

“Because I’m an idiot. Where can we get a drink?” Brett glanced around for the refreshments table.

“Forget it. Soda isn’t going to soothe those nerves. Do you still have the medal? Have you changed your mind about selling it?”

“I can’t change my mind. I’ve already ordered the equipment.”

“Then why?” Renita stared at him in disbelief.

“I may not be the best parent, but I couldn’t watch my daughter crash and burn. Not when she’s already having trouble making friends.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I haven’t got a clue.” He shook his head. “Did you tell Oliver to ask her to dance?”

“I probably shouldn’t have interfered,” Renita said, watching the kids on the dance floor. Bluesy brass music rose above the thudding of dozens of feet. She’d never been to a dance, but she knew what it was like to be unsure of herself.

“I’m glad you did…. Oliver isn’t going to just forget about the Brownlow Medal, is he?”

“Not a chance,” Renita replied. “I’ll have a quiet word with him.”

“No, I’ll do it.” Brett blew out a heavy sigh. “Later. First I’ll let Tegan have her night.”

Among the teachers, Renita recognized Jack’s friend Glenn, a tall, fit man with close-cropped red hair, and waved. When he wandered over she introduced him to Brett. “Glenn teaches phys ed.”

“It’d be great if you could give the boys a workshop in Aussie rules football sometime,” Glenn said.

The men started talking sports. Renita saw someone else she knew and slipped away to say hello. When she turned around again, Brett was surrounded by a circle of admirers. She grabbed a bottle of mineral water and circulated the floor. She spotted Tegan standing with Oliver and a group of teens. The girl was chatting and smiling, to all appearances having a good time. Renita caught her eye and gave her a thumbs-up. Tegan pretended not to see.

“Here’s a golden oldie for all those who love a great ballad,” the DJ said, leaning into the microphone as he dropped a disc on the player.

A hand touched her arm. She turned to see Brett.

When he leaned close and said in her ear, “Would you like to dance?” her stomach fluttered and she caught her breath.

Years ago he’d hurt her so badly she’d cried herself to sleep. Now her pulse quickened as she stepped into his arms. His spicy masculine scent made her almost light-headed. One hand rested in the small of her back, his other palm pressed against hers.

She didn’t want this. Yet she couldn’t have broken away if her life depended on it. Her eyes drifted closed. She rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the solid strength of his arms and chest.

“Er, Renita?”

“Hmm?” she sighed dreamily.

“Are you dancing or just shuffling your feet?”

She jerked back, heat climbing her neck. “The kids are shuffling, too.”

“Because they don’t know any better.”

“I never learned to dance.”

“This is a box step. It’s pretty easy.”

She glanced up and saw he wasn’t ridiculing her. “Show me.”

Hands clasped, he drew her close again. “Back, side, together,” he murmured in her ear, to hide the fact he was teaching her. “Forward, side, together.”

His grip tightened as he led her into a turn at the corner of the dance floor. “It’s nice to know I can teach you something.”

She bet there were a lot of things he could teach her. “I’m surprised I never saw you on
Dancing with the Stars.
”

“I was asked but…” He made a face, shrugged. “I didn’t want to go the route of so many ex-athletes and minor media personalities—being trotted out for red carpet events, variety shows and talk show panels.”

“Doesn’t Summerside seem tame after the city?”

“I wanted a normal life, for me and for Tegan.”

The song ended. A faster number came on.

“Let’s go check out the school,” Brett said. “Visit our old lockers.”

“That’ll be fun.”
Not.
Renita hid her reluctance and followed him out of the gym, into the wide empty corridor.

“What about you?” Brett said as they walked. “Don’t you hanker after the bright lights?”

“Been there, done that. I lived in Melbourne while going to university and working. Then I traveled overseas for a job in London. I got homesick for Summerside, for my family.” Renita peered through the glass-paneled door of her old history classroom. It looked the same as it had fifteen years ago.

“Did you go to the tenth reunion?” Brett asked. “I don’t recall seeing you there.”

“I was still in London.”

They wandered past the office and the trophy case where Brett’s photo, as captain of the football team, was displayed next to a silver cup. Past the arts wing and the home economics room.

She didn’t know how they ended up in the hallway outside the boys’ locker room—she’d been trying to avoid the area—but she must have forgotten the layout of the school. They turned a corner and she found herself standing in the exact spot where she’d invited Brett to the dance and he’d turned her down.

The same odor of sweaty gym socks pervaded the hall. There was the notice board with the list of names for the sports teams and the schedule of practice. The pennants on the wall, a poster for an upcoming football game between Summerside and Frankston.

Renita stopped, overcome by a rush of shame, hurt, anger. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Not yet.” Brett lifted his hand and brushed her cheek with his knuckles.

She held her breath as he slowly lowered his head. His lips were gentle at first, nipping at the edges of her mouth while his breath mingled with hers. Renita placed a hand flat on his chest, feeling the beat of his heart. She rose up on tiptoe, lifting herself into his kiss, her arms twined around his neck.

She used to dream about what it would feel like to kiss Brett. Now she knew.
Wonderful,
she told herself. And yet… She realized she was trying to convince herself it was true. As amazing a kisser as Brett was, something didn’t feel right.

His arms tightened around her. She could feel him hard against her. But she wasn’t engaged.

Gently, she pushed him away.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“You’re very…skillful. But your kiss lacked…I don’t know…sincerity.”

“Ouch! I thought maybe I could make up for…” He trailed off, grimacing. “Dumb, I know.”

Renita slowly spun on her high heels, taking in the scene. “This whole setup, the high school dance, the dress… I thought I would make this triumphant return on the arm of my high school crush.” She faced him and stopped. “You can’t go back.”

“So you had a crush on me,” he said.

She nodded. “But I’m over it. I truly am.”

Brett’s hands slid up her bare arms, making her shiver.

Suddenly Renita was very much engaged. What she hadn’t said was that she was falling for him again. But it was different this time.

Deeper, stronger. Scarier.