Close Relations

‘Does he get plenty of work?’

Did they really care? Jarrod or his father? They’d certainly got rid of him from Maclean’s pretty quickly when he’d started drinking after Georgia’s mother had died seven years ago. No, that was unfair; Georgia acknowledged the critical voice inside her. It had been her father’s choice after his wife’s death to leave the engineering firm owned by his brother-inlaw. But neither of the Macleans had tried to stop him.

‘He gets enough to keep him going,’ she said aloud.

That same tension rose again, surging out of the darkness to engulf them, and Georgia’s mouth went suddenly dry. Did he remember the nights they’d spent together, the long talks, the drugging kisses, the way their bodies had moved as one to music only they could hear?

Her senses quivered anew, sending an arrow of pure desire hurtling through her heart. Was Jarrod feeling the same almost overwhelming temptation to reach out to her the way she wanted to reach out to him? Georgia swallowed a low moan before it escaped and she swayed slightly just as Jarrod moved.

His hand came out, fingers encircling the hot flesh of her bare arm. Was he simply steadying her? Or was he—?

‘Right.’ Lockie’s footsteps acted like a douche of cold water and Georgia snatched her arm away as though she had been stung. Her brother joined them and if he noticed anything amiss he made no comment ‘Ready to go?’ he asked easily.

Then Georgia was in the front of the wagon with her brother beside her and Jarrod had walked around the front to climb in behind the wheel.

‘Shove over a bit, sis.’ Lockie wriggled and the seat springs protested. ‘If this door opens while we’re driving along I’ll pop out like a cork from a bottle.’

Georgia felt herself grow hot again as she gave her brother a little more room on the bench seat. She fumbled for the sash of her seat belt and both Jarrod and Lockie tried to help her.

Georgia’s nerves tightened until she thought they’d snap and as Jarrod reached out to switch on the ignition she barely disguised her flinch. His arm brushed hers as he shifted the gear lever and Georgia wondered if the other two were as aware as she was of that same heightened tension that swelled inside the car.

There was no way Georgia could make any attempt at conversation right then. She was far too busy trying to justify her capricious reactions to her usually dignified, rational self. At least, she’d thought she now had some composure, some control. But perhaps she’d been wrong.

‘I’ll need directions once we get to Oxley,’ Jarrod said as they turned off their narrow road onto the smoother bitumen surface of the main highway.

‘Georgia knows the way,’ Lockie said casually. ‘And I’ve just had an idea. Andy’s new flat is just off the highway at Darra—we go right past it—so if you drop me off there I can bring my van back and save shuttling back and forth with Andy later.’

‘Andy may not have finished with your van,’ Georgia managed to say, horrified that Lockie would dare to leave her alone again with Jarrod.

‘He should be; he hasn’t got that much stuff,’ Lockie told her, obviously not receiving the frantic silent messages she was trying to send him. ‘I can be home by the time you collect Morgan.’

‘Lockie—’ Georgia began warningly.

‘Sounds sensible to me, Georgia,’ Jarrod agreed, and Georgia could only wordlessly concede, seething at her brother’s insensitivity.

‘Has Morgan been flatting long?’ Jarrod asked. ‘I just can’t imagine her being old enough to be out on her own.’

Lockie shifted uncomfortably, glancing sideways at his sister.

‘I’m afraid Morgan didn’t exactly leave with the family’s blessing,’ Georgia explained evenly. ‘She’s only just seventeen and we thought she was too young to move away from home and into a flat with her boyfriend.’

‘I see.’ Jarrod pulled into the passing lane, easily overtaking a slower car.

‘Morgan’s going through a bad patch. She decided to leave school and then she couldn’t get a job. She’s very—well, wilful at present.’ Georgia sighed tiredly.

‘And how!’ put in Lockie. ‘I often wondered if the flat was really Steve’s idea or if Morgan organised it all. As incomprehensible as it seems, Steve’s head over heels in love with her. That’s why I find it hard to believe that he actually hit her. It’s so out of character.’

‘This fellow hit Morgan?’ Jarrod asked with a frown.

‘So she told Georgia on the phone,’ Lockie replied.

‘How old is he? Does he have a job?’ Jarrod questioned.

‘He’s a bit older than Morgan, isn’t he, Georgia? I’d say nineteen or twenty. Actually he works for your father as an apprentice something or other. I always thought he was a nice guy, pretty quiet and sensible. Didn’t you think so too, sis?’

‘He is a nice boy—’ Georgia began, wishing her brother wasn’t so forthcoming about their family problems.

‘Not so nice if he hit a woman,’ Jarrod broke in drily. ‘Any sort of abuse, physical or mental, is unacceptable.’

‘Perhaps there can be worse things,’ Georgia remarked softly, bitterly, before she could stop herself. The past was waving shadowy fronds to taunt her, and she could sense the sudden stiffening in the man beside her.

‘Not in my book,’ Jarrod said firmly. ‘An argument needn’t come to that.’

‘You’re not wrong. Wife beaters are cowards in mine. Turn left at the next set of lights, Jarrod.’ Lockie pointed out the flats where Andy now lived and his battered kombivan was parked outside, Andy and Ken beside it as they lifted a couple of cardboard cartons. ‘Right.’ Lockie opened the door and slid from the station wagon. ‘I’ll see you back at the house later.’

And Georgia could only sit there as her brother walked away. Before she could move, unclip her centre seat belt and slip into Lockie’s now vacant place by the door, Jarrod pulled the station wagon away from the kerb. She was left sitting close to Jarrod, as close as lovers. The way they used to…

Once again her brother had neatly sidestepped any responsibilities.

‘I’m sorry about all this-’ Georgia strove to keep her voice even ‘-and I appreciate your helping us out,’ she finished quickly.

‘As I said, it’s no sweat.’ He was frowning, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence until Georgia had to direct him to turn off the highway.

The flats were old but well kept and they had no trouble finding the right one, for Morgan was standing in the lighted open doorway watching for them. As Georgia climbed out of the car she came hurrying down the path, suitcase in hand.

‘Georgia! Thank goodness you’re here. I thought Steve would come back before you finished. I’ve got my things. Let’s go,’ she finished breathlessly.

‘Just a minute, Morgan.’ Georgia stopped her sister’s headlong flight with a hand on her arm. ‘I think we should go inside and wait for Steve and you can explain exactly what happened.’

‘When we get home, Georgia. I’ll tell you then. I don’t want to see Steve or stay here any longer, and what’s more I’m not going to.’

‘Only a couple of weeks ago you couldn’t bear to be anywhere else,’ Georgia reminded her sister wearily.

Morgan turned on her, her darkish curls flouncing. ‘And I might have known you’d throw that up at me, Georgia. You think I’m still a child, but I’m not a child!’ She stamped her foot.

‘Morgan—’ Georgia went to put her hand on her sister’s shoulder but the younger girl brushed it away.

‘I’m not staying, Georgia. You don’t even care that I’ll probably have a black eye tomorrow. Oh, come on. I’ll get the rest of my stuff later. Let’s go.’ She reached for the cardoor catch.

Jarrod had walked around the car by now and he took the case from Morgan before opening the door for her.

‘For heaven’s sake.’ The young girl noticed him for the first time. ‘I don’t believe it. Jarrod Maclean.’

He inclined his head. ‘One and the same. I’m sorry we’re not meeting in better circumstances.’

‘Well, yes.’ Morgan shot a swift glance at Georgia before smiling a little unsteadily. ‘You don’t look a day older and it must be—what, four years?’

‘More or less. And perhaps you should save that, “You don’t look a day older,” until you see me in broad daylight rather than under a dull streetlight.’

Morgan laughed then, relaxing. ‘You’re still more of a hunk than you have a right to be. And I guess I look a bit different from when you last saw me too.’

‘Yes, you’re all grown-up-without your school uniform and your ankle socks.’

‘I’m about the same age Georgia was when you came home from college, aren’t I?’

The air about them thickened and Georgia’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists.

‘Round about.’ Jarrod’s reply was flatly casual.

‘That’s the trouble with families.’ Morgan wrinkled her nose at Jarrod. “They’ve all seen you at your worst and they aren’t above reminding you about it either.’

‘Morgan.’ Georgia’s voice sounded thin to her ears.

‘Especially big sisters,’ Morgan remarked as she slid into the front seat of the car.

Jarrod was still holding the door open and Georgia could only climb into the car herself. After closing the door, Jarrod deposited Morgan’s case in the back of the wagon and climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘How long have you been home?’ Morgan asked him as he set the car in motion.

‘Almost a week.’

‘Georgia told me Uncle Peter had had another heart attack so I guess that’s why you’ve come home.’

“That’s right.’

‘The last I heard, you were in the States. What I wouldn’t give to go somewhere exciting like that. And what a bore to have to come back here.’

‘Morgan…’ Georgia tried to stem the flow of her sister’s bubbling conversation.

‘Well, it is boring. What’s to do around here?’

Georgia sighed.

‘But, Jarrod—’ Morgan put her hand on his arm ‘—I’m sorry about Uncle Peter. I always liked him,’ she said sincerely.

Georgia barely heard her. She sat suddenly tense, a play of bewildering emotions momentarily pushing her worries about Morgan’s lack of tact out of her mind. Morgan’s small hand seemed to glow where it rested on Jarrod’s arm, its paleness in stark contrast to his tanned skin. What could be happening to her? She wanted to reach out and pull Morgan’s hand away.

‘I know Georgia visits Uncle Peter every week,’ Morgan was saying, ‘but I bet he’s pleased to see you back home.’

Georgia forcibly tore her gaze from Morgan’s hand and shifted guiltily on the seat It had been well over a week since she’d seen Uncle Peter. Not since he’d dropped his bombshell about Jarrod’s return and she’d run like a startled rabbit.

She should have known with his father being so ill that Jarrod would come home, but for some reason-selfdelusional-it hadn’t occurred to her. And it hadn’t been only Uncle Peter’s obvious pleasure at his son’s imminent return that had had her heart aching. She’d been caught unawares and she’d taken flight, not returning to the Maclean house in case she ran into Jarrod and made a complete fool of herself.

Sitting here beside him only emphasised how easy that would be for her to do.

‘How is he now?’ Morgan asked, and Jarrod shrugged slightly.

‘He’s a little better, according to the doctor, but the last attack he had took its toll on him. That’s why Isabel sent for me.’

There was an edge to his voice when he mentioned his stepmother and Georgia also tensed, blanketing the memories before they could take hold of her.

When Georgia had been a child the Macleans, Peter and Isabel, had always confused her with their relationship. They were cool, restrained, never laughed together the way her parents did. And when Jarrod joined the family she had felt sorry for the tall, lanky teenager who had come to live in that quiet, unemotional atmosphere.

Isabel Maclean was Georgia’s mother’s older sister, yet the two sisters couldn’t have been more dissimilar. Georgia’s mother had been bright and effervescent, loving and caring. Isabel rarely so much as smiled, and Georgia couldn’t remember her aunt ever hugging any of them when they were children.

After Jarrod had arrived Georgia had always sensed that although Isabel and her stepson never openly expressed their dislike it was a mutual emotion. Or so she’d thought.

She recalled asking him once what he thought of Isabel and he had retreated into himself, shutting her out Until she’d slid hot kisses along the line of his square jaw to nibble teasingly on his earlobe. Then he’d turned to her, his arms holding her almost desperately to him, kissing her with a fierce passion that had at first frightened and then inflamed her.

‘And how’s Aunt Isabel coping with Uncle Peter’s last attack?’ Morgan asked.

‘With her usual self-possession,’ Jarrod replied evenly.

‘She’s a cold fish, that’s for sure.’

‘Morgan!’ Georgia reprimanded her sister.

‘Well, she is, Georgia. She’s always been like that. When I was a kid I used to wonder what she’d do if I climbed on her knee and put my sticky fingers on her dress, but I was never game to find out’ Morgan giggled. ‘I reckon she’d have passed out if I had. She wasn’t a bit like our mother. You’d never have known they were sisters, would you, Jarrod?’

‘No, I suppose not’ Jarrod turned off the highway and Georgia sensed an even deeper undercurrent in his flat tone.

‘But then again,’ Morgan continued, ‘you’d never guess Georgia and I were sisters. Georgia is the image of Mum and Lockie’s fair like Dad.’ She gave a soft laugh. ‘I’m somewhere in the middle. And, speaking of Lockie, where is our dear brother anyway?’

‘Collecting his van from Andy’s,’ Georgia told her. ‘Or, at least, he was,’ she added as Jarrod drew to a halt in the driveway behind Lockie’s van. ‘He’s actually beaten us home.’

The outside light flicked on, illuminating the path, and as they climbed the steps Lockie opened the door.

‘Great timing!’ he exclaimed. ‘You OK, Morgan?’

‘I’m fine now, Lockie,’ Morgan assured him with a faintly martyred air.

Jarrod set down her suitcase and Lockie turned to him. ‘Hey, thanks for stepping in and helping us out, mate.’

‘Yes, poor Jarrod.’ Morgan pulled a face. ‘Only back a week and you’re already rescuing the Grayson family again. Dad told me when Lockie was young you were always saving him from all sorts of scrapes. Georgia too.’

Jarrod laughed easily and Georgia’s nerve-endings vibrated elatedly. ‘As a boy Lockie had the very worst luck of anyone I knew for being caught out by his father or mine.’

‘And when Georgia was late she just used to say she was with you and Dad accepted it without question.’ Lockie laughed with him.

Oh, Lockie. Georgia swallowed painfully. She’d always said she was with Jarrod because it had been the truth.

‘Georgia staying out late at night?’ Morgan put her hands on her hips. ‘I’d forgotten about that. Ha! You can hardly dictate to me, then, can you? Or is it the old, Do as I say not as I do?’ She smirked at her sister. ‘You’re blushing, Georgia. That’s what comes of having a shady past.’

Georgia’s vocal cords refused point-blank to function and for the life of her she couldn’t conjure up a light retort. She shot a quick, desperate glance at her brother and saw that his face had coloured too. She didn’t dare look at Jarrod.

Lockie broke into the lengthening silence. ‘Well, you know what they say, Morgan-it’s the quiet ones you have to watch. And no one could call you quiet. But anyway,’ he continued quickly before she could interject, ‘what’s all this rubbish about Steve hitting you?’

‘He did hit me. Look.’ She indicated a slightly reddened mark on her cheekbone. ‘But don’t worry—I hit him right back. Then he just walked out. End of story.’

Lockie raised his eyebrows. ‘What was the fight about?’

‘Nothing. And everything.’ Morgan pursed her lips. ‘He’s pig-headed and obstinate.’

‘You should know about that, Morgan. Pig-headed and obstinate? Then that makes two of you,’ Lockie remarked drily.

‘Don’t you start, Lockie.’ Morgan pouted. ‘I’ve already had enough from Georgia. And I really don’t care to face the big-brother, big-sister inquisition tonight. I didn’t get any sleep last night and I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning, maybe. I think I’ll go to bed now.’ She turned back to Jarrod and the sulky look left her pretty face. ‘No one around here understands me,’ she murmured with a sigh. ‘I can sympathise with you, Jarrod. I’d cut and run if I had the chance too.’ And with a flounce she left them.

Lockie grimaced at Jarrod and picked up his sister’s suitcase. ‘Give us strength! How about some coffee? I could do with a shot of caffeine and I put the kettle on just before you arrived home. Want a cup, Jarrod?’

He inclined his head. ‘Thanks.’

Georgia moved towards the kitchen and to her consternation Jarrod followed her, watching silently as she set out the coffeemugs.

Flashes of conversation came disjointedly back.

‘Isabel sent for me.’

‘You’re still more of a hunk than you have a right to be.’

‘I’m about the same age Georgia was…’

And with torturous clarity she saw again Morgan’s small hand on Jarrod’s arm.

‘How’s the coffee coming?’ Lockie appeared behind Jarrod, fragmenting the atmosphere of solid tension in the kitchen. ‘Morgan’s decided she’s not going to bed and she’ll have a cup too,’ he added, rolling his eyes towards the ceiling, and Georgia automatically reached for another mug.

When she’d poured hot water over the coffee grains she set the steaming mugs on a tray, but before she could lift it Jarrod had taken the tray and motioned for her to precede him into the living room.

Morgan was already in the room and had draped herself over a chair. As Jarrod passed her a mug of coffee she smiled up at him.

‘Thanks, Jarrod.’ Her young voice was softly husky. ‘I suppose you’ve noticed a few changes around the area,’ she continued brightly. ‘The new shopping complex and then all the houses that seem to be sprouting up like mushrooms.’

‘Well, he has been away for four years, Morgan,’ Lockie said scornfully. ‘And I’m more interested in the States. Tell us about that, Jarrod.’

He shrugged and sat down. ‘Not much to tell really. I’ve been working pretty hard.’

‘That’s sacrilegious!’ Morgan exclaimed, and her glance slid to her sister. ‘You sound like Georgia. That’s all she ever does. Work, work and more work.’

Georgia sank wearily onto the sofa, yearning for the solitude of her bed, the oblivion of sleep. ‘You’re exaggerating, Morgan.’

‘And it’s a pity you don’t do a bit of work.’ Lockie frowned at his younger sister. ‘Instead of swanning around with your friends all day.’

A flush washed Morgan’s cheeks and she sent Lockie a withering look. ‘I don’t swan around. And jobs aren’t exactly thick on the ground around here, brother dear.’

‘We know that, Morgan,’ Georgia put in placatingly, but before she could continue Morgan held up her hand.

‘I can feel a lecture coming on so I think I will go to bed after all.’ She stood up and set her coffee-mug on the table with a bang. ‘You know, I really think you two will be disappointed if I don’t go and get myself into mega-trouble.’ She flounced out of the room.

Lockie muttered under his breath. ‘Seems to me Steve and Morgan are quite prepared to play at being grown-ups but they’re too young emotionally to handle the situation they’ve got themselves into.’ He paused and turned, frowning, to Georgia. ‘Into trouble? You don’t think she’s taking drugs or-well, that she could be…?’

Georgia’s hands tightened on her coffee-mug, her knuckles whitening with tension. Her gaze rose to meet Lockie’s and he reddened, his eyes falling from hers.

‘No. Of course, she wouldn’t be that stupid,’ he contradicted himself quickly, and gave a nervous laugh. ‘Anyway, enough of Morgan. I’m sure you don’t want to hear all this, Jarrod.’ He glanced back at his sister. ‘Never a dull moment around here, is there, Georgia? And you must be exhausted, arriving home from a hard day at work then having to go racing out to bring Morgan home.’

Georgia nodded and took a gulp of her coffee. It wasn’t work or the drama with their sister that was responsible for her feeling like a piece of chewed string.

If only she was on her own so she could rationally evaluate her reactions. Yet how could she have known just how radically the reappearance of Jarrod Maclean would affect her? Because, as much as she wished she could deny it, the fact was that he did still have the power to turn her emotions upside down.

She could see herself at seventeen again. That had been when Jarrod had come home after graduating. Georgia had been playing tennis and had been hot and dishevelled from the long cycle home. She’d walked in and he’d been there, in that same chair. When she’d entered the room he’d stood up, and he was a good four inches taller than her brother. Her eyes had lifted too, over his long, lithe body, to meet those fantastic blue eyes.

From beneath her lowered lashes Georgia watched Jarrod take a sip of his coffee, his strong neck muscles working as he swallowed.

Did he remember too? Probably not Why would he?

‘What were we talking about?’ Lockie continued. ‘Oh, yes. The changes around here.’

‘I thought I’d taken the wrong exit when I headed out along the highway the day I arrived,’ Jarrod remarked easily. ‘But once I turned onto that road outside I knew I was back. At least our little bit has stayed the same.’

Lockie’s eyes ran over the high-ceilinged lounge of their large old house. ‘Mmm. Lucky your father never had to sell off his land. Minus this little plot he sold to our father. Fifty acres, isn’t it?’

Jarrod nodded.

Georgia’s nervous system felt as if it had been constricted into a tight block, shaky and volatile. How could the three of them be sitting here so amicably discussing something as mundane as this while the awful events of four years ago sat with them?

‘They must have been good friends back then, Dad and Uncle Peter,’ Lockie was saying. ‘I mean for Uncle Peter to sell our father and mother this place.’

At that particular moment Georgia’s eyes were on Jarrod’s hands and with a shock she watched his knuckles whiten as his fingers tightened around his coffee-mug. Her gaze flew to his face and she saw a flicker of a nerve beating in his suddenly tensed jaw.

What could have sparked off his reaction? Surely he didn’t begrudge her parents this land? After all, Geoff Grayson had bought this house and had had it moved onto this block at least ten years before anyone had been aware that Jarrod even existed.

Georgia continued to surreptitiously watch him but his long lashes now safely shielded the expression in his eyes. He seemed intent on the remains of the coffee in his mug.

‘Of course this place needs a few running repairs now,’ Lockie continued easily. ‘Dad’s always just about to start on it when he gets a job working on someone else’s place. I’ve promised to give him a hand to paint the outside when he gets back from the coast. And the wiring needs attention too.’

Jarrod smiled stiffly, crossing one long denim-clad leg over the other, the rasp of the thick material echoing loudly to Georgia’s sensitised hearing, and she swallowed.

‘These old colonial styles are beautiful but there’s quite a bit of upkeep on them,’ he said evenly.

‘And how.’ Lockie glanced at his wrist-watch and when the phone rang he grinned broadly. ‘Right on time. That’ll be Mandy. She said she’d ring to let me know she’d arrived safely. If you’ll excuse me, Jarrod, I’ll take it on the extension in the kitchen.’ He stood up and raced along the hallway.

Georgia blinked in surprise at Lockie’s sudden exit. Her brother really was the limit. Leaving her alone with Jarrod was developing into a harrowing habit. She shifted uncomfortably on her seat.

‘Mandy, Lockie’s fianc&e2;e, flew home to New Zealand today to visit her family,’ she got out. ‘I suppose you met her last time you called in.’