Chapter Fifteen
Cradling a cup of cocoa, Claire watched her son with Nate across the flames. Nate was tuning Lewis’s acoustic guitar while the teenager stifled yawns. It was after ten-thirty and he should really be in bed, but she couldn’t bring herself to send him. His time with Nate was too short, too precious.
After dinner, they’d built a bonfire on the beach like the old days and all sat around it on deck chairs carted down from the bach. Beside her, Dan and Ross talked rugby with the endless enthusiasm that Kiwi men had for their national sport. They’d behaved themselves since this afternoon’s incident, but she had a sense they were biding their time.
Nate finished tuning the guitar and gave it back. Lewis launched into a version of “Hotel California.” Showing off with more enthusiasm than skill. Across the blaze Nate met her eyes, his own dancing with amusement and firelight. The red patch on his jaw had shrunk to a small bruise.
She’d forgotten it had been his skill that had sparked her son’s interest in playing, forgotten how he’d patiently taught eight-year-old Lewie his first chords. Claire could hold a tune, but Steve had been tone-deaf, though that never stopped him singing along.
Claire experienced a pang for her late husband, embraced it like the old friend it was, then looked at the man she was trying not to fall in love with. She’d been glad Nate had admitted to feeling the same attraction. Glad because it got rid of the shame, made the bond more than the pathetic imaginings of a lonely widow.
Of course, they wouldn’t do anything about it. She was completely in agreement with him on that. Neither of them needed this complication in their lives, the timing was all wrong, and it was highly possible that for both of them, this attraction was linked to grieving for Steve.
Except she’d never developed feelings for Ross or Dan in the eighteen months since Steve’s death. Unwittingly, Claire sighed. No, it was Nate who quickened her pulse, Nate who roused a dangerous tenderness, a reluctant longing.
She and Steve had once talked about finding someone else if one of them died, and she’d said jokingly, “Another woman? Over my dead body.” More serious, he’d replied. “If you find a guy who can give you what we have… Honey, I want you to be happy.” At the time she’d admired his unselfishness, now she wondered if his magnanimity was because he understood divided loyalties, already knew the SAS held a prior claim to his heart. She couldn’t think like this, didn’t want to. The same old endless circuit, she was tired of it.
“Claire,” said Dan. “Settle an argument. Best kicker in the All Blacks, Carter or Weepu?”
“Oh, Carter certainly,” she said without a clue, and Ross hooted.
“Told you, Shep.”
The men resumed their argument, leaving her free to watch the interaction across the fire. After an awkward start, Lewis and Nate now seemed relaxed in each other’s company. She’d made a tough call, but the right call.
Lewis yawned again, his gaping mouth all but obscuring his face. Claire smiled and made another call. “Time for bed, son.”
He started to protest.
“Or you can skip the early bridge jump and stay up,” said Dan.
It was a long-standing tradition that visitors to Stingray Bay jump off the footbridge on an outgoing tide then float the half mile to the bach.
“Fine, I’ll hit the sack,” Lewis said grudgingly.
“Are you joining us, Claire?” Ross said, and she encountered four male grins.
She played the game. “Try and stop me.”
“Mum, you know you’ll chicken out. You do it every time.”
“Well, if she does, she can paddle home in the kayak with me,” Ross said. Claire saw Nate glance at his friend’s damaged leg, then away. He’s made his peace with it, she wanted to say, but this was for them to resolve privately.
“I think I’ll turn in, too,” she said.
Collecting the empty mugs, she bent to hug Ross, realizing only when she was hugging Dan that it would seem odd if she left Nate out.
Self-consciousness hit her as she turned and saw the tension in Nate’s shoulders. He’d realized the same thing. “Sleep well,” he said, his gaze left of her ear.
Steadying herself on his shoulders, Claire leaned forward to give him a light kiss on the cheek. Misreading her intention as drawing in for a hug, Nate turned his head. Mouths brushed, noses bumped. Instinctively, each recoiled. Claire stumbled back and tripped over Ross’s bad leg. His arm shot out to catch her.
“I’m so sorry.”
“No harm done.” Ross’s gaze flickered between her and Nate. In her peripheral vision, she noted a sudden stillness in Dan’s posture.
Casually Nate gave his empty mug to Lewis. “Take this up for me, will you, buddy…. Got the flashlight?”
“Yep.” Lewis switched it on, the glare full in Nate’s face. It was as red as Claire’s felt. “Oops, sorry.” Lewis angled the beam downward.
“Lead the way, honey.” Claire escaped the circle of firelight. “Good night, everyone!” Cheeks flaming, she followed the dancing beam up the path cut into the bank that connected the estuary to the bach, feeling the foliage of the agapanthus shrubs brush against her jeans. They might as well have put a sign up. Awkward attraction here. Lewis strode ahead oblivious, pointing the flashlight at the bank in a hunt for rabbits. “Did I tell you we went possum hunting one night, Mum?”
“No, I hope you didn’t catch any.”
“They’re pests. They strip the bark off trees.”
“Sounds like you had a great stay at the farm.”
“Yeah, I really liked it. It’ll be good to get gaming again, though. Some guys at my new school said as long as you’ve got a microphone you can set up your computer so you can all talk to each other during the game. If I had headphones we wouldn’t disturb you.”
Claire smiled. “That’s so thoughtful.”
“You wanted me to interact with the kids at my new school,” he reminded her.
She laughed. “I was talking about in person.”
“That reminds me. Remember Callum in my new soccer team has a pool party in Whangarei for his birthday. Now I’m home early, I can go, right?” Without giving her a chance to reply, he added, “You liked his mom, remember? And Callum’s a nerd, your favorite kind of friend for me.”
Claire ignored the sarcasm because she didn’t want to fight on his first night home. “Still an exaggerator,” she said lightly. “Yes, you can go.”
“They live around the corner from Nana’s. I could stay with her afterward to save you driving to pick me up.”
Claire was touched. “That’s very thoughtful, Lewis.”
He shrugged. “I have to stay with her one night through the holidays. Might as well get it over with.”
Shaking her head, she made up the other bed in Nate’s room while he was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. The other guys had pitched a tent in the yard.
Lewis returned in his pajamas and dumped his clothes at the end of the bed. “You think Nate will stay longer if I ask him?”
“Zander Freedman’s going on tour. Nate needs to get back to his job.”
“I wonder if they ever play guitar together.”
“You can ask him tomorrow.”
“I can ask him when he comes to bed.”
“I doubt you’ll be awake, the guys have some catching up to do.”
Lewis climbed under the covers. “Yeah, well, so do I…. Is my wet suit here? The water’s too cold to do the bridge jump without.”
“Yep, I brought both of ours.”
He laughed. “Mum, you are so not going to jump tomorrow. Admit it.”
“One day I’m going to surprise you.”
“Sure you are,” he said in that patronizing tone teenagers reserved for parental delusions. God help her, she’d even missed it.
Claire switched off the light. “Love you, Lewie.”
She waited, hopeful. Maybe being away— “I know,” he said.
With a silent sigh, she went to bed.
* * *
There was a long silence after Claire and Lewis left. Nate bought himself time by dropping more driftwood on the bonfire and sparks rose like fireflies, winking out as they cooled.
He didn’t even try to turn the subject. In special ops you evolved the capacity to read each other’s gestures, even minds sometimes. Survival depended on it.
“I suppose it makes sense,” Dan said at last. “You and Claire were always close.”
Nate stiffened. “If you’re suggesting I’ve spent years lusting after my best friend’s wife—”
“Don’t insult my integrity by suggesting I’d question yours,” Dan rebuked sharply. “Or Claire’s. We know each other better than that.”
“Nothing’s going on,” Nate clarified. “Nothing will. Claire and I are agreed on that.” Willpower had triumphed over emotion, but it didn’t feel like victory.
Ross snorted; Dan shook his head.
Nate glanced suspiciously from one to the other. “What?”
“The desperation,” Ross answered. “We recognize it, that’s all.”
“I don’t get it.”
“The point is, you don’t owe us an explanation,” Dan said. “It’s none of our business.”
Incredulous, Nate stared at him. “You should bloody care. This is Steve’s widow. You’re supposed to be protecting her from guys like me.”
“Women who choose military men are strong women,” Dan said. “They have to be. Claire doesn’t need our interference, only our support.” He gave a wry smile. “There’s a difference, apparently, one my wife is still teaching me.”
“But if this attraction goes anywhere,” Ross added, “then yeah, you’ll have to get your shit together and stop pretending you’re happy in Hollywood.”
“What time did you say you were leaving tomorrow?” Nate said bitterly.
Ross looked at him. “You think you’re not hurting us? You’re hurting us, Nate. We’ve been family to each other for ten years, and you’re breaking our fucking hearts.”
Nate blinked.
Ross eased his leg out to the fire. “And to answer your earlier question, yeah, there were times I wish I hadn’t survived. But having to come to terms with this injury has made me a better man.”
“I miss Steve and Lee so bad sometimes,” Dan said. “Eighteen months and sometimes it’s as raw as when it happened. Survivor’s guilt is difficult to come to terms with.”
Nate’s throat tightened. “I can’t talk about this stuff.”
“Look around this fire,” Ross said. “There are two men missing. We have no choice about that, but we do have a choice about losing you.”
“If what Steve would think is the only thing keeping you from Claire, then stop worrying,” said Dan. “He only cared that she was happy.”
“But you’d have to make her happy,” said Ross, and Nate felt as if he was under attack by the tag team from hell. “That’s a big commitment. It can’t be tied up with grieving for Steve—for either of you.”
“Look, we don’t need to talk about it because it’s not going to happen,” he tried to end the conversation. “I’m leaving as soon as the papers are signed. Day after tomorrow.”
Dan stretched his hands to the fire. “If there had never been an ambush we’d all be sitting here now,” he commented as though Nate hadn’t spoken. “Lee would have been housebroken and making us laugh with some outrageous story. Steve would be sipping a beer and radiating the smug contentment of a happily married man. I have that smugness now,” he added. “I recommend it.”
“I will have it once Viv commits to a wedding date,” said Ross. “Can you believe it, she even called the engagement ring a friendship ring to wind me up. I can’t believe I’m actually begging a woman to marry me. It’s a crime.”
“It’s frontier justice,” Dan retorted. “And remember, you have to be on your best behavior for a year before I’m letting you hitch your star to my little sister’s.”
“This visit—” ignoring Dan, Ross addressed Nate “—I’m pinning her down to a date.”
Despite himself, Nate smiled at his earnestness. Unfortunately, Ice took that as encouragement. A glint entered his eye. “Viv’s flying in from New York Sunday night and she’d love to see you. And Dan and Jo will be in Auckland on Monday for Jo’s two-year checkup. Stay another few days,” he suggested.
“Yeah, mate,” Dan added quietly. “Stay and see that it’s still possible to be happy.”
Their affection settled over him, as warm and familiar as a child’s comforter. Nate pushed it away. “I can’t. Zander’s heading on tour, I’ve got to return for work.” He looked at Dan. “Why didn’t you tell me about Jo’s cancer?”
“Would you have come home?”
He remained silent.
“Something happened during that ambush that you’re not telling us,” Dan said. “Don’t shake your head…. I had to peel your fingers off the gun barrel. You’re trying to protect us—because that’s what you do. Protect Claire if you must, but not us. Whatever went down, we can handle it.”
Nate disagreed.
Dan read his face and sighed. “We’re here for you, mate. Anytime, anywhere.”
“I appreciate that.” he replied politely.
Ross said nothing. He had his Iceman’s face on, unreadable. But his fingers beat a frustrated tattoo against his good leg. Never a good sign.
“Get the cripple another beer?” he said to Dan.
“You’re perfectly capable of getting your own beer, Ice.”
“Humor me.”
A look passed between them. “You want a can, Nate?” Dan asked.
“Thanks—” he stood and stretched “—but I’m heading to bed.”
“Ten more minutes,” said Ross, and it wasn’t a request. Nate raised his brows. “Please,” Ross growled.
Reluctantly he sat down again.
“The problem with grieving,” Ross said when Dan was gone, “is that it makes you selfish. You forget your responsibilities to the living. That’s a lesson I recently learned, one I’m passing on. Shep needs his friends around if things don’t go well with Jo’s checkup. That’s all I have to say.”
Nate stared into the fire. This was why he’d made a life among strangers. His friends still had expectations of the man he used to be. Claire had taken a big risk bringing Lewis home and he’d sensed her tension as Nate responded to Lewis’s eager questions about life in Hollywood and suffered the boy’s hero worship. While his guilt returned, heavier than lead.
Dan returned, tossed Ross a beer. The conversation returned to sports. Nate made his token contribution. Inside he was in turmoil. Don’t need me. I’m unreliable, I’ll let you down. “I’m turning in,” he said abruptly.
“Yeah, it’s time we all did.”
They doused the fire, kicking sand over the traces, and then carried the empty cans and deck chairs up to the bach. “Night, guys.”
Dan grabbed him in a hug. He wasn’t expecting it and had no defense for the emotions that swamped him.
After the ambush, Dan had shadowed Nate through his darkest days. When he’d said, “I can’t get over this,” Dan had grabbed him by the shoulders and shaken him.
“You don’t disrespect their memory by holding your own life cheap, you hear me. I can’t lose you too.” He’d wept as he’d said it and Nate had thought dully, He’s right, death is too easy. It’s much harder to live.
So he’d said yes to the antidepressants, he’d bared his soul to a military psych who’d told him it wasn’t his fault and he’d left the friends he no longer deserved and made a life among people who didn’t give a damn about him.
Over Dan’s shoulder he met Ross’s eyes. Saw a plea where there hadn’t been one before.
“Call me as soon as you get results from Jo’s specialist,” he heard himself say to Dan. “If you need me around, I’ll stay.”