Authors: Anya Forest
“It’s Christie,” she said hesitantly, listening painfully to the silence. “Hello, Christie,” he said eventually. Blake’s voice had changed, she realised. It was distant, reserved. Conscious of Lisa’s presence she kept talking, asking if it was still possible to get a lift to Dunedin, offering to contribute to petrol. Christie averted her face as Lisa rolled her eyes, listened to Blake confirming he would be leaving early the next morning and returning the morning after that.
Christie’s hand shook as she registered what Blake was saying. “You’re staying overnight?” she asked, trying to remain calm, conscious of Lisa listening to the conversation. Christie listened as Blake explained it was too long a drive to do a return trip comfortably in one day with the timing of his meetings. The shared room at Mason Bay was imprinted on her mind, her nightmare, Blake’s strong arms, the intense emotion she had experienced.
Taking a deep breath she asked about accommodation, wanting to organise a place to stay, the doubts flooding her mind combining with the echo of the night at Mason Bay. “We’ll sort something out tomorrow,” Blake said.
Christie’s heart felt like it would break. “No,” she said, wanting to be clear. “I’ll book something for myself. Tonight, on the Internet. But if I could have a lift there and back, that would be great. Thank you,” she said, trying to sound grateful, determined not to betray her inner turmoil.
“Christie,” he said, and she could hear the tenseness in his voice, “the winery has access to an apartment right in the city. I can use that. It has several rooms. It won’t be up to the standard of Mason Bay but you’re welcome to stay there.”
Christie caught her breath as his reminder of Mason Bay set off a fresh wave of traitorous longing. She was silent, suddenly incapable of refusing.
I’m almost six months pregnant,
she thought wryly.
That solves that.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said nervously.
“There’re a few shops I can take you to, but we can organise that on the way.” He insisted on collecting her, hung up abruptly after confirming the time. Christie looked at Lisa’s mobile in a daze, handing it back to Lisa without a word.
“And did he take you up on your offer of petrol money?” Lisa asked sarcastically. Christie shook her head, not answering. Lisa’s uncompromising views only highlighted her own indecision. Christie wanted this baby, was excited, but could not help contrasting the reality of single motherhood with her dream growing up, of a loving partnership, a shared life, jointly raising a baby with her husband. She thought dully of Blake’s evident disgust at her pregnancy, his distance since she had told him.
She shrugged mentally.
At least I have the apartment,
she thought gratefully. Lisa was watching her closely, asked her if she wanted to rest. Christie shook her head, knowing she needed to focus on the baby. “What stores are in Dunedin?” she asked her friend.
Lisa stood up, smiling at Christie. “That’s more like it; have you thought about what you’ll need?”
An hour later Christie’s head was filled with thoughts and plans about what to buy or look at the following day. She and Lisa had looked at parenting websites, websites for specific stores and also compared prices. Haltingly, Christie had even confided what Rebecca had said; Lisa’s laughter made Christie smile too. “You don’t need those sorts of comments, Christie. I knew Rebecca years ago at school. Once a spoilt airhead, always a spoilt airhead.”
Christie glanced down at the list she was making, reflecting on Lisa’s words, hiding her surprise at Lisa’s dislike of Rebecca, deciding not to mention Blake’s comments about his sister. She continued looking on the Internet, wondering about maternity clothes, trying to gauge what was available second hand. Lisa nodded her agreement. “That’s a great idea, Christie. Save on clothes for yourself, then you can afford to shop in the places Rebecca recommended for the baby.” She grinned at Christie. “Seriously though, you could get one special thing for the baby, couldn’t you? The contracting will pay well, won’t it?”
“I don’t want to spend money for the sake of it,” Christie said cautiously. “Not until I see how things go.”
— # —
Blake arrived the next morning in a glossy black four wheel drive, the headlights sweeping over the dawn-lit road. Before Christie could protest, he had come around to open the door, putting her overnight bag in the back seat and waiting while she climbed in. She realised he had reclined the seat, had a pillow and a light travelling rug in the footwell. “It’s still so early,” he said, his voice low. “You can sleep on the way, or I’ll just put the pillow in the back.”
Taken aback, her mind recalling Blake’s sullen attitude yesterday, Christie murmured her thanks, reached for the rug and pillow. She felt the car start, saw Blake’s strong hand on the gear lever, the outline of his thigh through his jeans.
Stop it,
she told herself sleepily. Blake was silent, focusing on the road, his profile in shadow.
It was light when Christie woke up feeling slightly disorientated; she lay quietly for a few minutes, still drowsy. She gave a start as she realised Blake was glancing at her, his face impassive. Christie struggled upright, brushing her hair from her face, stretching slightly. “No bad dreams,” Blake remarked tersely, making her blush. She was transported from the warm interior of the car to a remote wooden tramping hut with basic bunk frames and a painted door; her mind sensing the smell of wool and the rustle of a sleeping bag. “No bad dreams,” she agreed, her voice catching slightly.
Christie looked away from Blake, out the window. She did not know what else to say, how to articulate what had happened the day before, acknowledging bleakly that even Blake’s behaviour yesterday could not change her heart’s desire for him, even as her mind urged caution, demanded an explanation. Blake broke the silence. “We’re only an hour or so from Dunedin,” he said. “You took my idea of sleeping on the way seriously.” Christie shifted, adjusting her seat upright, removing the pillow. “There’s a café a few minutes up the road,” he continued. “I thought we could stop there for breakfast.” Christie nodded, wanting to get out and stretch her legs, have a break.
When she walked into the café, Blake was already seated, his gaze intent as he watched her walk to the counter. He gestured to a chair; Christie’s eyes narrowed as she realised he was telling her he had already ordered. She marched over towards him, annoyed, about to lecture him on her unpredictable food preferences during her pregnancy, stubbornly determined to refuse whatever he had ordered.
Blake half rose from his chair, pulling out a chair for her to sit down. “I asked them to come over,” he said calmly. “I wasn’t sure what you’d feel like.”
Christie sat down abruptly, trying to cover her confusion. “I just want toast and a hot chocolate,” she said ungraciously, longing for a strong coffee, knowing she shouldn’t have it.
Blake nodded slightly. “How are you feeling?” he asked politely.
“Fine,” Christie snapped.
What happened to the lecture?
a small voice inside her asked quietly.
“Apart from the occasional mood swing,” he said, a flicker of amusement on his face.
“Yes,” Christie muttered, staring at the table, unable to explain herself, barely restraining the retort she wanted to make about Blake’s own attitude the day before. She heard Blake ordering her toast and a hot chocolate, his own breakfast, resolved to at least be civil for the remainder of the trip. Christie realised the waitress had left and Blake was looking at her, asking where in Dunedin she wanted to go, jokingly asking if he should have brought the trailer. An unwilling smile showed on Christie’s face as she heard his teasing tone. Unconsciously, she put her hand over her stomach as she talked, asking about the location of the central city mall Lisa had mentioned, and telling him the names and addresses of other stores she wanted to see.
“Where are your meetings?” Christie asked Blake as they ate.
“All across town,” he replied, telling her the names of restaurants and retailers.
“It sounds like an important sales trip,” she commented, wondering why Blake’s employer was not travelling with him or in his place. “That’s a lot of responsibility,” she said instead.
“Yes,” Blake replied, turning the conversation back to organising the day, telling Christie he would be in the city for most of the day but in the afternoon he could drop her off if needed and collect her again later after certain meetings. “Or you can catch a taxi,” he said neutrally. “But I’ll get your number in case I’m held up.”
Christie arranged an impassive look on her face as she listened to his businesslike tone. “Of course,” she agreed. “And I should probably get yours. In case I haven’t finished shopping and decide to get a taxi.” She realised an edge had crept into her voice. Blake inclined his head, choosing not to respond to her, standing up to go and pay. Christie stood also, insisted on paying, thinking back to the lunch the day before.
“I’ll get lunch then,” Blake said.
Christie looked up at Blake, surprised. “What about your meetings?” she asked, her voice tense.
“What about them?” he said, looking back at her, his face questioning. Christie bit her lip, suddenly nervous. She walked back to the car silently, conscious of Blake’s relaxed demeanour. Lisa’s words from the day before rang in Christie’s ears as her friend’s plain speaking belatedly gave her the jolt she needed.
How many times had she imagined what it would be like to have a child, to excitedly shop for a nursery, choosing clothes, a cot, a pram. Always in that picture was a husband, looking forward to being a father, planning for the child’s needs together. Instead, Paul was patently disinterested, didn’t even want her to have the baby, hadn’t contacted her since she had told him. And now she was spending the day with Blake, the original playboy, distant with his own family and with her, clearly primed by Lisa to at least meet for lunch, display a polite interest in her plans.
Fresh anxiety assailed Christie as she thought of Lisa. Remembering Blake’s easy greeting when Christie rang him on Lisa’s phone; Lisa’s familiarity and knowledge about
Blake’s plans and family. An image of Paul and Amanda loomed in her mind.
You can’t let that define your life
, an insistent voice inside her said. And even if Blake and Lisa did get together, well, she had a baby to think about. One that was arriving in a few short months.
At least I’ve got savings. And I will be able to buy what I need…
Christie began feeling slightly more optimistic as the car neared Dunedin, turned to Blake, asking about his meetings, genuinely interested in his work and what was involved. He answered her questions briefly, seemingly reluctant to give details. “And does your boss mind me staying at the apartment?” she asked.
Blake seemed preoccupied. “No,” he said shortly, thinking of the telephone call he had made after Christie had called him. “I’ve already cleared it with them.”
Christie looked up in amazement as Blake drew up at an ornate historic building that had obviously been converted into an exclusive boutique hotel. She got out of the car, looking around, sudden doubt assailing her. “If you decide you don’t want to stay here, we’re close to the city. There’s lots of accommodation right along George Street.” Blake didn’t look at her as he spoke. Christie nodded silently at Blake’s comment, not trusting herself to speak.
The porter took her bag and Christie automatically looked at Blake. “Well, at least that saves an argument,” he said and despite herself, Christie smiled at him, straightening her casual top self—consciously as she looked around at the grand lobby, the uniformed staff, the immaculate furnishings and huge sweeping staircase. She hung back while Blake checked in.
Blake walked back to her, steered her over to the concierge. Incredulous, Christie heard him explaining she was going shopping and would need help with any parcels she returned with. She was about to protest but then realised the sense of what he was saying. She suddenly thought of Paul.
They had stayed in nice hotels on special occasions but…
Another thought struck her; she could hardly expect Blake to pay for her stay here and the winery certainly wouldn’t pay for extras.
Maybe I should look for a cheap motel
…Guiltily aware of how much she wanted to stay here, be with Blake, Christie reminded herself of her savings.
Rebecca would be proud
, she thought, smiling to herself.
“I was expecting you to voice an opinion to the concierge.” Blake looked at her as they ascended the stairs, his dark eyes filled with sudden amusement.
“Thank you,” Christie said, meeting his gaze, giving him a genuine smile. “Though I could have asked the concierge myself.”
“Would you have?” he commented, uncomfortably perceptive.
“I want to reimburse you for the extra cost of me staying here,” Christie said, striving for a businesslike tone. “Can I pay at reception tomorrow? Or should I pay you directly?” She studied the richly carved wooden panelling on the walls, sensed him still watching her.
“It’s a flat rate,” Blake replied as he waited for her to step onto the landing, relieved to hear Christie was definitely intending to stay. “So don’t worry about it.”