The Ripple Effect Part 20

"We used to do midnight raids on Mrs Lowe's strawberry patch. And we accidentally let out Morton's bull once on one of our nocturnal excursions. It scared the daylights out of Beryl Skinner when she went to put her was.h.i.+ng out in the morning and found this gigantic jersey bull under her was.h.i.+ng line."

"What did she do?"

"Grabbed the garden rake and whacked it on the nose. It got such a fright it shot straight through her trellis and left an enormous bull shaped hole just like in the cartoons."

"You're making that up," gasped Joelle when she stopped laughing enough to speak.

"I am not. You can ask her when we go to Birrigai."

"I will."

"Just don't let on who let the bull out."

"I thought honesty was your thing," said Joelle.

"It is but I'm not stupid," he retorted. "No-one ever asked me. If they had I'd have owned up. There were three of us anyway and that bull was always getting out."

Joelle left for Sydney immediately after closing the shop on the Wednesday before Easter. In the parking area, ready to wave goodbye, Mel shook her head sadly and told her she was mad heading off in peak hour, but Joelle insisted the heaviest traffic would be leaving the city not entering the way she was.

"Why don't you go after dinner?" Mel asked plaintively.

Joelle couldn't wait a moment longer. She'd almost cracked and taken off at lunchtime except she knew Shay wouldn't be free until at least five-thirty. They planned to have dinner together, eating at home, preparing and cooking stir-fry chicken in his kitchen. She felt like a child waiting for Christmas or a birthday, bursting with impatience at the snail-like pa.s.sage of time.

"Shay wants to get away early in the morning so we don't want a late night," Joelle said. But how would she be able to sleep in Shay's house with Shay in the next room?

"You just can't wait to go, can you?" asked Mel with a grin and went straight on. "I wish you'd let me come."

Joelle sighed. Mel tagging along was the last thing she wanted, much as she loved her. "It's only because you're here at the shop I can go," she said. "You've done really well, you know that, Mel?" she added looking her sister in the eye so that she knew the truth of the words.

Mel looked away and shrugged ever so casually. "I like it," she said. "And it's not exactly rocket science."

Joelle laughed softly and handed Mel the keys to the shop. "Thanks. Take care of yourself."

Surprisingly, Mel stepped forward and hugged her tightly. "You too," she said.

"I'm glad you've sorted it out with Dad," said Joelle as she released her hold. "He'll fix things with Mum, you'll see."

Mel opened the door of the Beetle. "I wonder," she said and paused, watching as Joelle slung her handbag on to the pa.s.senger seat. Joelle thought she'd finished-that she was referring to her own comment about their father-but she continued, "why Mum is so touchy about the whole baby thing."

Joelle frowned. She slid behind the steering wheel and clipped the seat belt. "I don't know-maybe because she couldn't have a child?"

"But she did have babies. I mean, touchy not just about me, but you, too. Why was she so adamant that you not be told? Dad wasn't the problem. She was."

How did Mel know? They'd been discussing her that night and perhaps subsequently. Talking behind her back. The family discussing the *other one'-the ring-in. A bubble of rage began swelling inside. Joelle clamped it down, firming her lips into a straight determined line. Of course, they'd discuss her. Mel wouldn't let that topic go untouched for long. Her sister was a terrier, a heat-seeking missile where information was concerned and she'd taken Joelle's situation to heart.

Joelle stared up at Mel's anxious face peering at her through the open car window. "I don't know, Mel, and I really don't want to talk about it now. Here."

"Okay." Mel straightened and stepped back a pace. "You go and do your thing with Shay. Have fun."

"Hope so." Joelle started the engine. "Mel?"

"Yup?" Her sister bent down again.

Joelle managed a wispy, weak little smile. "I'm really, really nervous."

"They'll love you, Joey."

"Don't call me Joey," returned Joelle with a brave attempt at fierceness but Mel just laughed.

"Go on, get moving," she cried and slapped her hand on the roof of the Beetle.

Shay glanced at the clock again. Twenty past six. Too early for Joelle to be here yet. He couldn't reasonably expect her before seven. Maybe he should nip over the road to the pub for a bottle of white wine in case she preferred to drink white instead of red with her dinner. He grabbed his keys and wallet. Chardonnay or Sauvignon Blanc? Or a Riesling? Which would she like?

Ten minutes later, he was back clutching a bottle of Chardonnay in one hand and a Riesling in the other. Now he had everything covered. They'd decided on a Chinese style stir-fry. He'd had the chicken strips marinating in sweet chilli sauce, garlic and ginger for half an hour already. She wanted to help prepare the vegetables so he'd stopped himself from peeling and slicing, which left him with empty time and s.p.a.ce and a fidgety, nervous body.

Was her room ready? Had he vacuumed and dusted thoroughly enough? Shay ran up the stairs to the spare room. He stood in the doorway and studied the preparations. Bed made with blue and white patterned linen, his newest set. Clean blue towel folded neatly on end of bed. Bedside table cleared of dust and other acc.u.mulated mess. Reading light in place. Working? He clicked the light on and off. Yes. s.p.a.ce cleared in cupboard. Yes, but she probably wouldn't need to hang anything, she'd only be here a matter of hours.

The bathroom? Clean enough for a woman? He'd scrubbed the toilet twice to make sure-not that he was messy in that department. Quite the opposite. Shay ran back down the stairs to check he'd placed extra toilet paper rolls on the shelf and new cakes of soap in the basin and shower.

Fine. Everything in order.

He stood in the kitchen and ran his hands through his hair and down over his face. Calm. Down. Joelle was his sister. He wouldn't carry on like this for Lisa. She'd laugh herself silly if she could see him at the moment.

The doorbell rang. His heart almost leaped from his chest.

Chapter 10.

She was even lovelier than he remembered. Sweet smiling face framed with soft golden curls escaping from tortoisesh.e.l.l clasps and pins. Wide blue eyes of that deep sea ocean blue. Lips parted, mouth trembling slightly. She was as nervous as he.

Shay leaned forward and kissed her gently. She placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and clung for a moment. They stood poised on the top step, cheek to cheek. His eyes closed as he breathed in the scent of her, his fingers resting on her waist registering the warmth of her body through the cotton t-s.h.i.+rt.

"h.e.l.lo," she murmured. Her breath tickled his ear. The softness of her skin sent starbursts of delight shooting through those nerves already stretched taut with antic.i.p.ation.

"Hi," he muttered, almost choking on the word. He couldn't release his hold. His lips longed to seek out her mouth. His fingers wanted to explore, patrol the curves spread so enticingly beneath the thin fabric. But he couldn't. He mustn't.

Shay pulled away, hot, fl.u.s.tered. He bent to pick up the small suitcase standing at her feet.

"Thanks," Joelle said quickly. As he straightened he saw the flush on her cheeks. He'd embarra.s.sed her by pawing at her body. He stepped back quickly to allow her entry.

"Come in. I've got your room all ready." Joelle closed the door behind her and they were momentarily trapped together in the tiny foyer. His words tumbled out in a confused torrent. "It's not very big-but then none of the rooms are in terraces. Only two bedrooms in this one. I'll show you upstairs now and you can get settled." As he spoke, Shay rushed up the stairs as fast as he could manage while clutching a suitcase.

Joelle followed silently but he didn't dare look at her face in case the expression she wore was of disgust. "You know where the bathroom is, don't you, from before? Downstairs, I'm afraid." He added a self-conscious sounding laugh and wished he hadn't. She'd think he was a blithering, blathering idiot.

"It's a lovely room," she said as she reached the doorway behind him.

He placed her case on the floor by the bed and straightened. Turned to face her. Her gaze was flitting about the room taking in the moulded ceiling, neatly made bed, polished floorboards and sheepskin rug. He went across and drew the heavy cream coloured curtains, blocking the red neon glare from the sign across the road, which screamed *Bottle Shop.'

"I'll be downstairs. Come down when you're ready."

"I'm ready now," she said. "I'm not tired. I'm hungry, though."

A grin expanded across his face under the effects of that lovely smile. The jittery nerves stopped can-canning across his entire body, blood stopped pounding in his ears. Almost as though a switch had been flicked, his heart-rate slowed to normal.

"So am I," he said. "Let's get dinner started. The chicken's been marinating for about forty five minutes just the way you ordered."

"Good work," Joelle replied. She turned and began descending the stairs.

He watched her moving in front of him with suddenly unbelieving eyes. She was in his house, the living breathing woman. His sister. This wonderful girl. "I can't believe you're really...I still can't believe I've found you," Shay said.

She stopped and turned to look up at him from three steps lower. Her hair shone gold in the dim light. "I can't believe you found me," she replied softly, her voice husky. "I can't believe you spent your whole life with that one thought in your head. Me."

Her eyes locked on his and Shay lost all sense of time as he gazed into the blue depths. She was so trusting and willing to love, so vulnerable and precious. He mustn't allow any hint to emerge of the animal l.u.s.t that invaded his body at the most inappropriate moments. She'd be horrified and rightly so. He was horrified at having such thoughts. He must be on constant guard or something might happen that would ruin their fledgling relations.h.i.+p. They were strangers, in reality, and he must remember that. Brother and sister they may be but when they first laid eyes on each other, it was as male and female. Potential mates.

"Get a move on, woman," he ordered gruffly. "To the kitchen."

"Yessir." she shot back and laughing, jumped the last few steps in one bound.

Shay followed slowly, gathering his wits, deliberately clearing his mind of l.u.s.tful thoughts and replacing them with just one. Sister. Sister. Sister.

Joelle had nipped into the bathroom to wash. He heard the taps running and water splas.h.i.+ng. He went to the stereo and slipped a CD of Vivaldi's Four Seasons into the player. She joined him at the kitchen bench where vegetables sat washed and waiting to go into the wok.

"No country music?" she asked.

"You said you don't like it."

"I don't but you do."

"You're my guest," he said.

"I'm your sister," she replied. "Would you play this for Lisa?"

"No."

"Well..."

"Lisa likes Barry Manilow and Kenny G," said Shay.

"Right." Joelle nodded solemnly. "Do you have any of their CDs?"

"No."

"Good. I thought for a moment I'd have to disown you."

Laughing, Shay opened the fridge. "Gla.s.s of wine to get us going?" he asked.

"Yes, please but I can't guarantee chopping straight after the first one."

"Red or white?"

"White, please." Excellent.

Joelle picked up the sharp knife and began slicing an onion. This was wonderful. They got on so well together, she and Shay. He must be handy in the kitchen judging by the equipment he owned.

"Rice or noodles?" he asked.

"Rice."

Shay filled a saucepan with water and placed it on the gas burner. Joelle started on a carrot. Shay produced the dish of marinating chicken pieces.

"Have you had any replies from the ads?" she asked.

"No. I'd tell you straight away if I had. What about the letters?" He leaned against the bench and watched her as she sliced the carrot into thin strips.

"No. Same. Do you think we ever will?"

"I've no idea. But someone must have known Emily."

"Maybe it's too long ago." Joelle put the knife down and sipped at her wine. Crisp, not too dry, just a hint of sweetness. Her eyes met his over the rim of the gla.s.s. His look made something quiver deep inside her. It was as though he reached right inside and invaded her completely. Body and soul. He seemed to know all about her, she was stripped bare, vulnerable and open. Acquiescent. She liked that feeling. She wanted him to know her, intimately.

Intimacy? With Shay? G.o.d, he'd be horrified. Already had been when she kissed him. Heat rose slowly and unstoppably from her belly to her face. A bead of sweat trickled down between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s under her t-s.h.i.+rt. Her armpits were clammy and hot. Still he held her gaze.

She wanted to kiss him. Desperately. Her limbs froze, her breathing almost stopped, paralysed. Insane.

"Water's boiling," he said and turned away to open a cupboard for the rice.

Joelle returned her gla.s.s to the bench top with a shaky hand. Six hours in a car tomorrow. How would she survive it? Then again on Tuesday coming home?

Shay woke her at six-fifteen. Despite the turmoil in her head the previous evening she'd fallen asleep relatively easily. Maybe the several gla.s.ses of wine helped. Maybe she was simply tired. Whatever it was, Joelle absorbed the sounds into her dream. Her father with a strange voice was trying to get her out of bed and ready for school. She knew she didn't have to go to school any more but he kept insisting, tapping on the door and telling her to wake up.

"Sleep well?" came Shay's voice when she stirred and blinked her eyes open, adjusting to the different room, different bed, different traffic sounds outside, different light.

"I was having a dream," she mumbled.

"Good one?" He sounded very chirpy. Joelle heaved herself to a sitting position and yawned. She focussed her sleep-filled eyes on him standing in her doorway already dressed. Jeans and a t-s.h.i.+rt printed with a cartoon animal.

"Some kids had lost their cat. They were walking down the street calling for it and I went out to help. It's name was Grandma. They were walking down the street calling out Grandma and then I was in bed and Dad was telling me to get up for school."

She began to laugh as Shay said through his own laughter, "Do you always have such weird dreams?"

"No...sometimes. I don't know. I probably don't remember them." She realised the light, pink satiny fabric of her pyjama top would be giving him a good eyeful of unrestrained b.r.e.a.s.t.s. One spaghetti thin shoulder strap had slipped down and her hair would be the usual morning mess. A real brother wouldn't even notice and she wouldn't care if he did. But Shay...he stood there staring at her, taking it all in. She pulled the sheet up.