SSAM RETURNED TO the celebration. As guest of the resort foreman he had to stay for the feast, but Hettie insisted on remaining at the hospital.
‘You go down,’ she said to Caroline, who shook her head.
‘Go down there where people hate the very mention of my name? I know that lout was drunk, but he was probably expressing the sentiments of most of the community. I doubt if anything will ever restore our name, given the amount of damage Ian’s done—and I only know little scraps of it.’
‘Something will work out,’ Hettie said, but with so little conviction Caroline knew she was only being kind.
She probably didn’t think much of the Lockhart family herself.
And who could blame her?
‘Then I’ll just head up to the house,’ she said to Hettie, thinking she’d phone her father just to talk to him, to ask about Christopher, then …
Get back to the books.
‘You will not go up to the house,’ Hettie said firmly. ‘Not until Keanu, or Jack or Sam are here to go with you, and then only to get whatever you need, then you can come back down here and stay in one of the empty nurses’ villas.’
It bothered Caroline that even Hettie was being protective. Surely there wasn’t that much risk.
Well, she could forget the phone call, but she had to do something.
And surely all this fuss was overdone …
Hettie had disappeared so Caroline slipped out of the hospital, taking the back path up to the house in case the angry man was still lurking around. It took her only minutes to collect what she wanted, then she headed back down the track, not to one of the nurses’ villas but to Keanu’s place.
Somehow she knew she’d be safe in Keanu’s place.
The door was unlocked and as she entered and looked around, she had to smile. Helen had insisted they both keep their rooms neat and tidy and it was obvious the rule had stuck with Keanu for longer than it had stuck with her.
The little place was neat and functional. The design offered a largish room with a sitting space, a dining space and beyond that the kitchen. Off that, to the right, was the bedroom, complete with double bed—did married couples often choose to work here?
She smiled to herself at the naivety of the thought. Of course there were likely to be relationships among staff working in such an isolated place. Wasn’t Jack hoping to win over the beautiful Anahera?
But going into Keanu’s bedroom and what was presumably a bathroom off it was a step too far, so she dumped the little notebook and laptop on the dining table.
And sat down to do some work.
She still didn’t have the running costs of the mine but Reuben would know, or once she found Peter she could get a rough figure from him. Where they’d get the money she didn’t have a clue, but somehow she had to do this. She made up neat lists. The back pay she could put a figure against but superannuation had a question mark, as had running costs. And she’d have to work out how much pay was owed to Bessie and Harold.
On top of that, if she was going to continue to live at the house, she should check what food was there. The next flight was Friday—she should order supplies …
As she paused, considering what to do next, she heard the music from the longhouse. It flowed through her blood and sent her fingers tapping until she stood up and began to move. She would never have the lithe grace of the islanders but she couldn’t help swaying her hips to the rhythm of the music.
Keanu had teased her …
Had she summoned him up by thought wave that he appeared in the doorway? She stopped her movement immediately before he teased her again.
‘Don’t tell me you’ve actually done what you were told,’ he said, then he looked at the book and laptop on the table. ‘Well, not entirely, you obviously went up to the house to get those and I’ll bet no one went with you.’
‘Everyone’s back at the party—I was quite safe,’ she retorted, then sniffed the air and looked at the basket he carried in one hand.
‘You’ve brought food? Oh, Keanu, thank you. It is so long since I tasted hangi meat and vegetables.’
She pushed the laptop to one end of the small table and hurried into the kitchen area, finding plates on her second foray into the cupboards and cutlery in the top drawer she expected it to be in.
Keanu had taken a cloth off the top of the delicacies in the basket and the aromas made Caroline’s mouth water.
He divided the food onto the two plates, stopping when she protested it was too much. But the delicious, tender pork, the taro and potatoes disappeared from her plate in no time, conversation forgotten as the food took them back to happier times when they’d often attended island feasts.
‘Were you dancing as I came in?’ Keanu asked when she’d pushed her plate away unfinished, and he’d slowed down his eating enough to talk.
‘Maybe moving just a little,’ she admitted. ‘As you’ve told me so many times, girls with European blood can’t dance.’
He smiled, remembering, as she had been, and sadness for those lost days filled her soul.
Keanu read the sadness in her eyes and knew what she was thinking.
‘Our childhood was truly blessed,’ he said quietly.
He set down his knife and fork and pushed his plate away, but as Caroline stood up to take it, he reached out and took her hand, closing his fingers around hers.
Just that touch sent messages he didn’t want to acknowledge streaming through his body, but he needed to say what he had to say.
‘I want you to stay here tonight, Caro. The rabble-rousers—if it turns out to be more than one—will probably be too drunk to do anything other than sleep but in case they want more trouble, they certainly won’t go door to door in the hospital quarters in search of you.’
She eased her hand out of his and stepped back.
‘No way. They could attack the house,’ she reminded him. ‘Not find me there, and become angry, burn the place. I can’t stay here, Keanu. I’ll get Bessie and Harold to stay there with me if you really believe there’s any danger.’
She hesitated, and he sensed she wanted to say more.
But she returned to gathering up the dishes, taking them to the kitchen, putting leftover food into the refrigerator—busywork while she avoided him in case he asked what was going on.
‘Aren’t you in charge over at the hospital?’ she asked when she’d finished cleaning. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll stay here until the party is over, then track down Bessie and Harold to ask them about tonight.’
Bessie and Harold, both well into their sixties, would be fine protection. He supposed if she was insistent about staying in the house, he’d have to stay there too, which, in fact, would be preferable to both of them staying here, her in the bed—he’d insist on that—and him on the couch, aware in every fibre of his being that she was there, so close.
And how could he return to that bed when she’d departed?
Wouldn’t he always feel her presence there? Smell the Caro scent of her on the sheets and pillowslip?
‘I’ll be over at the hospital,’ he said, knowing he had to get away from her before he was completely tied in knots. ‘Hettie’s very worried about the ulcer—worrying if we’ve misdiagnosed it as it seems to be getting worse, not better. You call