Her Great Expectations

She shook the letter, rustling the paper. “Mr. Kitzinger says you haven’t been turning in assignments.”

“Oh.” Glass in hand, he edged past her to help himself to water from the tap.

“Well, what do you have to say for yourself?”

He drank a few gulps, then dashed the rest of the water into the sink. “I hate English, my math teacher is crap and I want to drop biology next year.”

Alarmed, Sienna rubbed her bare arms, crumpling the letter. She knew Oliver was at an age where interest in school waned, but this was the first time he’d talked about dropping science subjects. “Regardless of how you feel about your teachers or the subjects, the fact is, you have to do the work. If you don’t improve your marks, you’re never going to be accepted into university.”

He slumped against the counter, his eyebrows lowering over his deep-set gray-blue eyes. “Maybe I don’t want to go to uni.”

Sienna felt her blood go cold. “You don’t know what you want. You’re only fourteen.”

“Exactly. I’m only fourteen. So quit planning my life for me.” Pushing off the counter, Oliver went into the family room, threw himself onto the couch and switched on the TV.

“Turn if off, please.” Sienna waited, silently counting to ten. She got to eight before he did as she asked. “If you want to be a doctor you need to learn good study habits—”

“I don’t want to be a doctor. You’re the one who wants it. We’ve got enough doctors in this family already—Dad, you, Nanna and Pop.”

“When I was your age I didn’t think I wanted to be a doctor, either. I changed my mind,” Sienna told him. “You’ll change your mind, too, when you get older.”

“You don’t know that,” Oliver protested. “You think you know me, but you don’t.”

She took a breath, planning to say that of course she knew him—he was her son, her baby she’d taken care of since he was born. She knew the birthmark on his back and the way his big toe curved inward, just like hers. She knew he worried about global warming and that he liked comedy shows better than crime dramas.

Then she looked at the great big boy sitting on the couch, staring at her with a mixture of sullenness and anxiety, and her words stopped in her throat. Did she know him anymore, really? Oh, he was still her son and all those things about him were still true, but he was changing. Growing up, growing away from her. He was developing muscles and peach fuzz on his chin and a mind of his own. She no longer knew his every thought and feeling, because he no longer blurted them out as soon as he came through the door. All too soon he would be a man. Blink and he’d be gone, leaving home.

She crossed her arms over her tightened stomach. “What…what do you want to do?”

Oliver hunched his broad bony shoulders. “I don’t know. Dig ditches, maybe.”

Oh, God. Sienna felt the breath stick in her chest. He didn’t mean that—he was just trying to push her buttons. And doing a darn good job of it, too. Oliver had been in the gifted class right through primary school. He had so much potential. She had such high hopes for him. The important thing for her right now was not to overreact.

Letting her breath go, she said calmly, “Whatever you end up doing, it’s important that you finish high school. Keep your grades up, take a variety of courses and keep your options open.”

“I guess,” he said grudgingly, not looking at her.

Now that he was acquiescing, she couldn’t resist one more salvo. “Oliver, you know how strongly I feel about education. It’s a crime to have the gift of intelligence and talent and not use it to the best of your ability.”

“A crime is something that’s against the law,” said Oliver, ever the nitpicker.

Hands on her hips, Sienna shot back, “In my world, not living up to your potential is against the law.”

Oliver groaned theatrically and pushed his hands through his blond curls.

“I want you to get right in there after dinner and get busy on your homework,” Sienna added. “No MSN, no texting your friends—”

“It’s Saturday night,” Oliver complained. “I’m going to Jason’s. I’ll do the assignments this weekend.”

“Oliver—”

“I promise!”

The microwave was beeping. Sienna went back to the kitchen and removed the thawed chicken. She took out her brand-new wok and got out the chopping board, biting her tongue not to keep haranguing him. “All right. You can go to Jason’s, but you will spend the rest of the weekend catching up on your schoolwork.” Seconds ticked by. She glanced at him. “Well?”

Finally Oliver said, “Okay.” He shuffled his large feet, ruffling the area rug that overlaid the polished hardwood floor. A few more seconds passed. “Do you want to see my solar-powered robot?”

Sienna took another deep breath and released it. “Sure.”

Oliver went to his bedroom and came back with a flashlight and a weird-looking contraption made out of a computer disk with half a Ping-Pong ball and two rubber-tipped motors attached to the bottom surface. Wires ran from the motor “legs” through the central hole to an array of light sensors, he explained. The sensors were wired to a small switch and a backup battery pack. Oliver placed the robot on the floor and knelt beside it. He flicked on the switch and shone the flashlight onto the sensors.

Nothing happened.

Oliver’s fair skin flushed, the scattered pimples on his chin turning deeper red. He thrust the light closer. “Come on.”

“Give it a minute,” Sienna said.

Slowly the legs began to move up and down, the rubber tips squeaking backward over the floor. It was the oddest thing Sienna had ever seen. “That’s amazing! Did you do that in science?”

“Yeah, we had a special presentation this morning,” he said eagerly. “A guy came in and showed us how to make electronic stuff. It was way cool.” The robot crashed into the side of the couch and marched frenetically in place until Oliver pulled it away and sent it in another direction. “I need better legs for it, though. And something to make it go in reverse. Jack said the next time he’d bring more controls.”

Jack. Could it be the same man? She dismissed the thought. No, it was too much of a coincidence.

She reached out and squeezed Oliver’s shoulder. “You’re a smart kid. You’ve got a scientific mind. You could do anything.”

Oliver glanced up at her, his mouth curving uncertainly. She returned his smile with love and pride. Briefly his eyes met hers in naked affection that embarrassed him so much he colored and glanced away.

“Oh, Olly.” Flooded with warmth, Sienna reached over and hugged him. He hugged her back briefly, then began to squirm. With a sigh she scrubbed her hand through his hair and reluctantly let him go.

They watched the robot squeak and scrape across the tiles. Meesha, the black cat, dropped from the chair arm where she’d been curled up sleeping and watched the jerking mechanical computer disk with alert interest.

Sienna asked, “Have you talked to your father lately?”

Oliver tensed, then shook his head, pretending all his concentration was on the erratic progress of the robot.

But Sienna could tell she had his attention. “Have you told him yet whether you’ll go with him on the ski trip to New Zealand?”

“Why do you want me to go? I’d have to miss a week of school. And the qualifying exam to see if I can go into the advanced math class next year.”

“I’ll speak to your teacher. We’ll work something out.”

The robot hit the table leg and stopped. Oliver picked it up and watched the legs give one last flicker. “I don’t want to go if she’s going.”

Sienna’s jaw tightened, but she strove for an even tone. “Erica’s seven months pregnant and not having an easy time. From what Anthony said, I doubt she’s going.”

Still Oliver hesitated. Sienna didn’t want to lecture him again tonight, but neither did she want him to miss this opportunity. “If you want to maintain a good relationship with your dad you need to spend time with him. Every second weekend isn’t enough. We agreed that you would have a holiday with him every year.”

Oliver glanced up, his eyes searching her face. “Doesn’t it bother you? Her, I mean.”

Yes, it did. She’d gotten past her initial raw anger and grief, but the hurt lingered. However, she wanted to do what was best for Oliver. “This isn’t about me. You don’t have to choose sides. You can love us both. You can even—” she swallowed hard “—love Erica.”

“That’s never going to happen.” Oliver was silent for a moment, thoughtful. “You really don’t mind?”

“No, I don’t. I want you to go.”

He glanced at her as if to make absolutely certain, then his expression gradually brightened as the reality of the trip started to sink in. “Okay. I’ll call him now.” He hesitated, then hugged her quickly. “Thanks.”

As she watched her son scramble to his feet and head for the phone, heat pricked Sienna’s eyes. She’d known he was ambivalent about going, but not that his reluctance was out of concern for her feelings. She hated to think of him not going after what he wanted, only to have regrets. That applied to his schoolwork, too, even if he couldn’t see it right now.

She got to her feet, glancing once again at her watch. Oh, God. It was six-thirty. Her guests would be here soon and she’d better get busy.

“I COULD HAVE SWORN she was enjoying our conversation, then out of the blue her smile turned sour,” Jack said to Bogie as he unloaded groceries onto the kitchen counter. “Do you think it was something I said?”

Bogie’s heavy fringed tail wagged in sympathy, but the golden retriever was too busy trawling the tiled floor for spilled crumbs to actually reply.

“It’s not like I’m in the habit of stalking women in the vegetable aisles,” Jack continued in his one-sided conversation. “But if you’d seen that mess of red curls you’d have crossed the room to talk to her, too.”

She looked to be about his age, maybe a little younger, say early to mid-thirties. Designer jeans, good-quality flat leather shoes, crisp white blouse beneath a tailored dark jacket. She could be an upmarket housewife—plentiful in Summerside. Then again, those slender fingers with their just-scrubbed look and short clean nails could belong to a pianist. Or a brain surgeon. All in all, he guessed pianist, but maybe that was simply because he had a thing for Oscar Peterson.

Oscar was on the CD player now, jazzy piano notes bouncing around the kitchen like the dust motes in the last rays of the sun spilling through the large windows overlooking the back garden. Outside, rainbow lorikeets were flitting home to roost in the gum trees, their raucous chatter nearly drowning out the music. Inside the sprawling single-story house, terra cotta tiles and walls of ocher and almond gave off a cozy warm glow. Jack poured himself a glass of red wine and began to cook.

An hour later the aroma of chili, garlic and ginger permeated the kitchen. The first of his guests, his sister Renita, banged open the front door and called through the house. “Hey, Jack. Come and give me a hand. This box weighs a ton.”

He strode out of the kitchen and into a short hallway bordering the lounge room to see his sister, her dark head and curvy round figure almost hidden behind a large cardboard box. He took it out of her arms. “This isn’t so heavy. Maybe you need to start lifting weights.”

“Ugh, I can’t think of anything I’d like less.” Renita went ahead of him to the kitchen, her ponytail swinging and her flip-flops slapping on the tiles. She’d changed out of the suit she wore as the loans manager at the local bank and into a sleeveless top and cargo pants.

“I thought you were bringing a date,” Jack said.

“He had to go away on business.” Over her shoulder she asked, “How was your trip?”

“Let me see… Three months sailing and diving on the Great Barrier Reef? Life doesn’t get much better than that.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t rub it in,” Renita grumbled good-naturedly. “Some of us have to work for a living.”

Jack set the box on the counter. “Is there any point in me learning your new guy’s name?”

“Probably not. At least I’m dating.” Renita went to the cupboard for a wineglass and opened the bottle of sauvignon blanc she’d brought. “Hey, have you seen Mum since you’ve been back? She’s cut all her hair off.”

“I kind of like it. I’m worried about Dad, though,” Jack said. “Ever since he retired he’s been so morose. It’s been six months and now that Mum’s got all these new interests I think he’s feeling left behind.”

“Did you invite him tonight?” she asked, pouring.

“He’d rather watch the footy.” Jack lifted the box flaps to look inside. “What have you got?”

“Ingredients for a Thai seafood appetizer. It’s best cooked at the last minute.” Renita stirred the wok on the stove and sniffed appreciatively. “Smells good. I saw Sharon at the liquor store. She and Glenn are going to be a bit late. Who else is coming?”

“Lexie, Ron and Diane.” Jack stirred the fragrant curry, then dipped a spoon into the coconut-milk broth and tasted. It needed something… Ah, how could he forget? Kaffir lime leaves. He stacked six of the deep green leaves on the chopping block and sliced them into slivers. An image rushed back to him of crouching to retrieve the fallen packet and gazing into a pair of huge gray-green eyes, clear as water. A faint pink blush had stained her pale cream cheeks as he’d shoved the packet into her hands.

Glancing over at his sister, he asked, “Do I come on too strong?”

Renita’s eyebrows shot up as she looked at him over her glass of sauvignon blanc. “Okay, spill. Who is she?”

CHAPTER TWO

“WHY DO YOU ASSUME there’s a woman?” Jack turned away to sprinkle the chopped leaves into the bubbling curry.

“Because with a man, you wouldn’t even think of asking that question. Plus I’m always hoping you’ll meet someone.” Renita crunched on a prawn cracker from the bowl on the counter. Gently she added, “It’s been three years since the accident, Jack. We all loved Leanne, but don’t you think it’s time to move on? You deserve someone wonderful.”

Jack stirred the curry. He and Renita were close, but there were things he hadn’t told his sister about the crash. Didn’t she get that he’d tried to move on? “I asked a woman out today.”

Renita lowered her prawn cracker. “Jack, that’s wonderful! Are we going to meet her tonight?”

“Don’t get excited. She said no.” He measured rice and water into the rice cooker and sprinkled in salt. “They always discover my hidden personality defects and scram.”

“What’s her name?” Renita said, getting back to the point.

“I didn’t ask.” He was still kicking himself for that oversight. “She’s just a woman I met over Kaffir lime leaves in the grocery shop. She must be new around here. I’ve never seen her before.” Or she could have been passing through. An unwelcome thought.

“Did you invite her to dinner?”

“I all but issued a standing invitation for every Saturday night from now till eternity.”

“And she declined,” Renita deduced. “Any sensible woman would. You should have asked her out for coffee first.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I was getting good vibes. Then I mentioned a dinner party and her smile wilted like week-old lettuce.”

“Could be she doesn’t eat.” Renita started taking items out of the box she’d brought. “Was she superskinny?”

“No, she seemed just right,” Jack said, thinking back to her soft curves, partly hidden beneath her jacket. Then he shrugged. “Never mind. It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing. You know me—I’d invite the postman for breakfast.”

Six months after the crash and fresh out of the hospital, he actually had asked the postie in for coffee. Begged, in fact, offering to drive Irwin around on his route to make up for the lost time. It had been one of those days when the walls vibrated with silence and empty rooms echoed with the voices of the dead. Jack had gone a little crazy. He’d probably be in the loony bin right now if Irwin hadn’t obligingly drunk three cups of coffee and listened to Jack ramble on. Not that Jack had said anything of significance. He’d yakked about local politics, the weather, anything but his grief and guilt.

The crash had been a turning point for Jack. Before, he’d run a successful light-aircraft charter, rebuilt airplane engines and worked on his own invention, an improved global positioning system for small planes. After the crash he’d walked away from the business, the flying and his broken GPS, now shrouded in plastic in his work shed. He’d had no paid employment for three years. Investments and insurance payouts kept him in groceries, paid the mortgage and financed cheap extended holidays. His family sometimes got after him to go back to work, but mostly they supported whatever he chose to do. Personally, he didn’t see a single thing wrong with his lifestyle. Wasn’t it everyone’s dream to have enough money and leisure to travel and pursue hobbies while they were young enough to enjoy it?

Now Jack made a career out of making sure he was always surrounded by family and friends.

Life was too short to spend it working. As subtext to that motto was another. “Never alone, never lonely.” The one thing his mother and sisters would say he lacked was intimacy, but they were women—and women were never content until a man was hooked up for life.

The doorbell rang. Before Jack could react, it rang again. And again. He caught Renita’s eye. They burst out laughing and said in unison, “Lexie.” Jack didn’t bother going down the hall. Lexie would be inside before he got there. The bell was less a request for entry than an announcement of her impending whirlwind arrival.

Sure enough, a moment later their older sister hurried into the kitchen clutching a wine bottle, her shoulder-length curly blond hair swinging behind her as if trying to catch up. Lexie was thirty-eight going on eighteen, and about as responsible as an eight-year-old, but her smile lit a room. “When do we eat? I’m starving.”

“Jack’s met someone,” Renita announced.

“I haven’t.” Jack shot her a warning frown.

“Who is she?” Lexie squealed, ignoring Jack’s denial. She reached for a wineglass, her fingers clean but permanently stained with oil paints. Tonight she’d changed out of the equally stained, loose shirt she wore while working on portraits and into a long Indian cotton skirt and a V-necked T-shirt. A fractured stripe of cobalt-blue curved around her forearm like a tattooed bracelet.

“No one,” Jack said firmly.

“A mystery woman who likes to cook,” Renita said.

“I’m not sure about that,” Jack protested.

“She was after Kaffir lime leaves,” Renita pointed out. “Not exactly a staple ingredient in most households.”

“She sounds perfect,” Lexie said. “When do we meet her?”

Thankfully Jack was saved from having to answer by the arrival of Ron and Diane. Glenn and Sharon got there a few minutes later. Soon Jack’s kitchen-cum-family-room was filled with talk and laughter. They poured wine into glasses and set dishes on the long jarrah-wood table surrounded by mismatched wooden chairs all painted a warm deep red. Work clothes had been shed for jeans; everyone had come ready to relax.

Renita’s appetizer took longer to prepare than she’d anticipated, but no one minded. They ate her garlicky skewered prawns standing around the kitchen counter, jostling good-naturedly for space, three different conversations going at once.

Jack teased his sisters and joked with his friends, but his thoughts returned over and over to a certain pair of fine gray-green eyes. He was all stocked up, but he found himself thinking about his next trip to the greengrocer. What were the chances he’d run into her again? And could he wait a whole week?

GARLIC AND CHOPPED ONIONS were sizzling in the frying pan. The chicken was on a plate to one side, waiting to be sliced into strips. A bottle of curry paste sat defiantly next to the chicken. Glancing at the clock, Sienna frowned. It was nearly seven-thirty. Glyneth and Rex were late.

“See you later, Mum.” Oliver strode through the kitchen, pulling on his jacket. “I’m going to Jason’s now.”

Sienna tossed the onion and garlic skins into the garbage. “Aren’t you staying for dinner?”

“We’re going to get a pizza.”

Sienna sighed gustily, blowing back the same wayward lock of hair that always came loose and fell over her forehead. Pizza sounded good about now. “Be home by eleven.”

“One o’clock.” Oliver sniffed the air. “Is something burning?”

With a cry, Sienna whirled to see acrid smoke wafting up from the pan. She flipped the gas off and turned on the fan to carry away the odor of scorched garlic.

“Midnight,” she said firmly to Oliver. “Call me if you need a ride.”

“I’ll walk. It’s only a few blocks.”

“Don’t forget your key.”

“I won’t. See you later.”

Sienna grabbed the frying pan and took it to the sink. As she scraped out the burned onion and garlic she heard Oliver’s footsteps in the tiled hall, then a moment later the front door shut with a snick.

The phone rang and she left the pan in the sink to reach for the cordless handset on the counter. “Hello?”

“It’s me,” Glyneth said, sounding harried as she spoke above the sound of traffic. “The car’s broken down on the freeway. Rex thinks it’s the fuel pump. We’ve called the auto association, but it’s going to be a couple of hours before they get here. I wanted to take a taxi, but Rex won’t leave his stupid Jag and I don’t have the heart to abandon him. We’re not going to make it, Sienna. I’m sorry.”

“Oh, hell. I was so looking forward to seeing you guys,” Sienna said. “When is Rex going to admit his vintage Jaguar is more trouble than it’s worth?”

“God, don’t I wish! I hope you didn’t go to too much trouble.”

Sienna gazed at the haze hanging over the ruin of a kitchen. It wasn’t the work and the mess she minded. It was another evening on her own. Glyneth couldn’t help that. She straightened her shoulders. “Oh, you know me—I open a packet and heat. I’m just sorry you’re stuck out there with car trouble. How about next weekend?”

“We can’t. It’s Rex’s niece’s wedding.” Glyneth’s phone started to crackle with static. “I’m dropping out. I’d better go. I’ll call you and we’ll catch up soon.”

Sienna hung up and rubbed her right temple where a headache was starting. She rummaged in her purse for a bottle of painkillers. Jack Thatcher’s card fell out.

She stared at the bold black letters of his name on the white card. Now that her plans had fallen through did she have the guts to take him up on his invitation? Bev had personally vouched for Jack Thatcher, so Sienna wasn’t worried that he was some random wacko. And she’d been looking for an opportunity to get out and meet people.

Sienna wasn’t interested in pursuing a romantic relationship. She just wanted a distraction and a few friendly faces to fill an otherwise solitary evening. And for all Jack Thatcher’s banter she didn’t think he was interested, either. He seemed the type to have invited the whole grocery store to dinner.

She’d always been cautious, too controlled to do things on the spur of the moment. Plan ahead had been her motto. That was how she’d gotten through med school and how she’d coped with a demanding workload while being a wife and mother. That hadn’t worked so well, she thought wryly. So maybe this was something else in her life she should change. Maybe it was time she trusted her instinct and gave in to impulse.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she wrapped up the food she’d been cooking and put it back in the fridge. A quick shower and a change into her favorite little black dress perked up her spirits. She put her hair up, applied fresh makeup and slipped into her best pair of shoes.

Then she wrote a note for Oliver and left it on the kitchen counter where he’d see it when he came in. Leaving a light burning over the stove, she slipped out the front door into a fragrant spring evening that suddenly seemed alive with possibility.