defiance was clearly infuriating.
‘She looks,’ Alex hissed, ‘like a tart.’
Stella gasped. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say. How could you?’
Alex closed his eyes for a moment. He took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, his expression had softened. He raised his hand in a gesture of apology. ‘I’m sorry, latria, but you’re thirteen years old and I find you wearing underwear in public and with your face plastered with make-up. What did you expect me to think?’
It wasn’t plastered. The make-up was discreet and enhancing. The result of rather long girly time in Susie’s cabin that afternoon. She opened her mouth to protest but Stella got in first.
‘I wish you hadn’t even come.’ The girl twisted under Susie’s arm, having either not registered or not accepted her father’s attempt at an apology. She was fishing for her crutches.
Should Susie try and hang on to them? Let Stella show her father she could now manage to walk on her prosthesis—something she had refused to even attempt until this week?
No. Stella was far too upset to remember how to keep her balance. To fall over now would only make her humiliation unbearable. Susie helped her fit a crutch to each arm, which took only seconds.
Tears were streaming down Stella’s pale face as she looked up at her father.
‘Go home,’ she shouted. ‘I hate you.’
With that, she turned deftly and manoeuvred herself past Charles, heading towards the end of the jetty.
‘Stella!’ The word was a command.
One that was blatantly ignored. Stella was picking up speed now that she had reached the path. She was running away as fast an anyone could with a pair of elbow crutches and a below-knee amputation. The state-of-the-art prosthesis that looked so wonderfully realistic wasn’t touching the ground. It was back to being what it had been since its procurement. An aesthetic accessory.
Susie rounded on Alex.
‘How could you?’
His face emptied of an expression worn many times by any parent of a teenager. That baffled kind of look that asked how on earth things had got so out of hand. As he focused on Susie, his face became completely neutral. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Your daughter walked nearly fifty metres this morning without using those crutches. She couldn’t even stand without the crutches a week ago and we’ve worked incredibly hard to get this far.’ The words were tumbling out. A release of all the hurt and disappointment she felt on behalf of Stella. ‘That’s exactly what she was doing when you arrived and that’s what you should have noticed. Not the bloody make-up!’ Susie gave an incredulous huff and put all her own fury into the glare she was directing at Alex. ‘How could you?’ she repeated.
There was a long moment of stunned silence. Susie had seen him flinch. She knew her words had found a target. Clearly, he was considering how to deal with such a personal attack.
The pilot had stopped approaching some time back, obviously disconcerted by the sound of angry voices. He was peering at something over the edge of the jetty with studied interest.
Tiny sounds became magnified. The lap of gentle waves breaking on the nearby beach. The cry of exotic birds in the rainforest. A distant shout and then the laughter of children.
The heat was intolerable.
It wasn’t a tropical sun that was burning Susie right now, however. The heat was emanating from the man in front of her. His sheer energy was overpowering. Not simply anger. Anyone could get angry, especially a parent who had been publicly defied and then criticised. No. The power here came from anger underlined with a heady mix of intelligence, position and…and the most potent masculinity Susie Jackson had ever encountered.
She had never met anyone like this in her entire life.
What the hell did she think she was doing?
His voice encapsulated every lightning impression she had just catalogued. It was a low, dangerously calm rumble.
‘Stella is my daughter, Miss Jackson. I have raised her alone since she was three months old.’ A tiny pause for effect. ‘I don’t think I need anybody telling me how I should be doing it.’
Obviously he did, but the defiant response refused to come out. Susie’s mouth was too dry and she felt alarmingly close to tears herself. It was tempting to turn and run, as Stella had done, but she wasn’t going to.
No way!
A purring noise broke this silence and it came from the small, electrically powered vehicle that chose that moment to arrive. Slow moving and environmentally friendly, these island vehicles had two seats and could tow a small trailer for luggage.
‘Ah…my transport.’ Alex turned away, giving Susie the impression that she was a nuisance that had now been dealt with. He sounded slightly less sure of himself when he focused on the new arrival, however.
‘What in God’s name is that?’
‘Garf,’ Charles told him succinctly. ‘The camp mascot.’
As was often the case, empty space in a cart or trailer had been gleefully occupied by the large, woolly dog.
‘But what is he? I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Labradoodle. Labrador poodle cross. Hypoallergenic. We had to be careful with pets and avoid anything that could trigger asthma attacks. He’s still on parole as far as close contact with some of the children.’
Garf didn’t know that. He had obviously been waiting for the cart to stop. As soon as it did, he bounced off the seat and loped off in the direction Stella had taken. Susie smiled. Garf had an inbuilt antenna when it came to unhappy children and he was probably the best medicine for Stella right now.
Alex gave a satisfied nod as the dog vanished up the track. ‘I’ll meet you back here in half an hour if that suits,’ he said to Charles. ‘Now, where is Stella’s dormitory?’
Susie opened her mouth and then shut it again as she caught the flicker of Charles’s eyebrow.
‘Let me offer you a nice cold drink,’ he said to Alex. ‘I don’t know about you, but I could do with one.’ He smiled. ‘Don’t forget we’re on island time here. Nobody’s going anywhere and nothing needs to be rushed.’
Diplomatic, Susie conceded. Far more so than she would have been in suggesting that Stella needed some time to herself before seeing her father again.
And Charles was not someone who could be dismissed. He might be in a wheelchair but that did nothing to diminish this man’s presence, and he had the upper hand right now. They were on his patch.
Alex had the grace to concede at least a reprieve. He inclined his head. ‘Wouldn’t say no to a cold beer. I have to admit it’s been rather a long and difficult day already.’
Was
