He looked over his glasses at her. “No swim for you this evening, Amber?”
She was so choked up she couldn’t bring herself to reply. Just shook her head.
He frowned. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Is David—”
But whatever her father had been about to say was lost as David came round the corner.
“It’s all fine, Pop, honestly. David’s about to leave.”
But, as Amber stepped away to allow David and her father to politely take leave of each other—both still obviously wary of each other—Amber couldn’t help thinking that things weren’t just fine. Being with David, talking with David, was stirring up things she’d prefer to forget, challenging things she’d decided were the only way forward. Life was easier staying within known boundaries, known limits, where she couldn’t be hurt. Suddenly she realized that both David and her father were looking at her.
“Sorry?” she asked.
“I was just saying, Amber,” said Jim, as David walked down the steps towards her, “that David must come again.”
“Of course. That would be lovely.”
David and Amber walked across the shadowy lane to where he’d parked his car. She leaned against the rear door as he opened his door.
“Thank you for inviting me, Amber. I’ve enjoyed meeting your family.” He cast a quick glance at Jim, who immediately turned away. They were being observed, and both David and Amber knew it. They looked back at each other with a smile.
“Sorry about Max. I think he still believes I’m twelve years old and need protecting.”
“That’s fair enough. You are his little sister and you always will be. A brother should protect his sister.”
“Maybe, but he’s not here to protect me now.” She took a step closer, because it didn’t look as if he would. And without another word—because what else was left to say?—she slid her hands over his shoulders, rolled onto tiptoes and pressed her lips against his. For a fraction of a moment, when he began to answer her kiss and it deepened, she thought she’d fallen into a place where she belonged. Then he gripped her around her upper arm and stepped away. She didn’t know who was more embarrassed.
They both began to speak at once and stopped at once.
“I’m sorry, I thought…” She shook her head. “Never mind.” She turned and ran away a few steps before turning back to see that he hadn’t moved. “My mistake.” She paused to give him a chance to speak. It was dark where he’d parked amongst the trees, and the lights from the lanterns didn’t extend far enough to reveal his expression—only his outline: hands on hips, white shirt glowing in the dark. His dark hair and dark eyes revealed no reaction. “Right, I…” She trailed off, nodding toward the house. “Goodnight, then,” she mumbled, before turning and walking quickly back to the house.
Even at the house, as she slowed her walk and climbed the steps onto the now empty verandah, she thought he might follow her any moment and explain why he hadn’t kissed her back. But all she heard was the roar of his engine, and all she saw were its tail lights as it bounced over the rutted drive and out onto the winding coast road, back to Akaroa.
Why didn’t David want her? Was there something wrong with her?
“Amber!” Jim’s voice brought back to the present with an abrupt bump.
She followed his voice into the library where Jim—who’d obviously had a hefty slug of his replenished tumbler of whiskey in the time Amber had gone to the car—was looking at old photos. He had one of them in his hand, and the whiskey in the other. “Lizzi looks so like your mother.”
Amber took the photo from him. “Ah, look at us all.” Her eyes lingered on her mother—who had died when she was only ten—and then Lizzi. “Even then they looked like sisters.”
He put the photo back. “It was before she became ill. She was a beautiful woman. I didn’t deserve her.”
“Oh, Pop. That’s the alcohol talking.” She took his half-finished whiskey and placed it on the sideboard. “We’re still here for you. Look at us all tonight.”
She managed to put a smile on his face. “That’s true.” Then he laughed. “It certainly wasn’t boring with your David there.”
“What do you mean?” Amber asked.
“Seems to me,” said Jim, “that your David—”
“NotmyDavid,” said Amber sulkily, remembering the rebuffed kiss.
“Well, he’s not mine!” he said, shooting her an outraged look. “As I was saying, I think your David created more confusion than anyone you’ve ever brought here.” He retrieved his whiskey and took a generous slug, grimacing slightly. “Oranyonehas ever brought here.” He placed his glass a little too firmly onto the table. “Rachel looked insulted at his response to her dinner.”
