Mr. Imperfect(25)

"Humor the beast, it will be gone tomorrow," he said, and watched her blush. Annoyed at himself, he headed for their table.                       
       
           



       

Their deal had freed him to leave, but the realization that he still had  unresolved feelings for Kezia-not love-was no freedom at all. It was  fitting, he supposed, nodding to his table companions as he pulled out  his chair, that a player like himself had been brought down by a woman  whose attraction to him had only ever been physical. And she can resist  even that.

"Old fogies and old lovers are at the back where we can't do any harm,"  Bernice May told him as he sat, and he had to smile. She patted his hand  and did the introductions-an old boyfriend of Suzie's and his very  pregnant wife, an elderly, deaf relative of William J.'s and Don, dapper  as always.

"Leaving tomorrow I hear?" Christian detected disappointment in Don's voice that was difficult to interpret.

"There's nothing to keep me here."

"I'll bet you can't wait to get back to civilization," Kezia said behind him.

"It does have its attractions." He stood to pull out her chair, feeling  anything but civilized where she was concerned. "A decent shower, a  decent bed-"

"-and an indecent woman," she finished sharply. For a moment there was  stunned silence. "I-I'm so sorry," she stammered, "that was an awful  thing to say."

"But funny," approved Bernice May, and everyone laughed.

Not to mention enlightening, thought Christian. "Jealous?" he murmured,  pushing in her chair. A stiff back was his only answer as Kezia turned  to engage Don in conversation.

The MC called for silence and William J. stood, clutching a sheaf of  pages that made the Gettysburg Address look like a Post-it note. A groan  rippled around the room that was just short of audible.

The groom cleared his throat, took a sip of water and fixed his eyes on  the audience over the top of his reading glasses. "Matrimony," said  William J. Rankin the Third, "is not an institution to be entered into  lightly … ."

"Oh, my sweet potatoes," said Bernice May. "Pass the wine."

Christian thought, This would be the day I give up serious drinking.

By page three the guests' eyes were as glazed as the ham and even the  bride looked bored. On page four, William J.'s mother got the hiccups  and everyone else the giggles. The groom galloped through page five and  finally conceded defeat on page six when John Jason's loud suggestion  that Mrs. Rankin senior stand on her head and drink a glass of water  sent the room into gales of laughter.

Yet he toasted his new wife with touching humility. "Thank you for  making me the happiest man in the world. I'll do my best to deserve you.  To my bride."

"To the bride!" chorused the guests with relief.

"You may escort me to the buffet before the rabble get there," Bernice May told Christian. "I want the pork crackling."

Kezia declined to join them. Unconsciously her gaze followed him as he  led the old lady to the carvery. Bernice May was half Christian's height  and he measured his steps to match hers.

"Muriel would have been very disappointed it didn't work out," Don said  beside her, and Kezia explained the deal she and Christian had settled  on. He gave her an enigmatic look and said he was going outside for a  cigar before dinner.

"I'll keep you company, there's something I've been meaning to ask you privately."

They made their way down the wide brick steps into the garden, where  they perched on a half wall that edged a flower bed of creamy azaleas.  Don patted his breast pocket, found a cigar and lit it with the silver  monogrammed lighter Muriel had given him last birthday. He saw Kezia  looking at it. "We miss her."

"We do."

For a moment more they sat quietly, letting memories rise with the pungent smell of fine tobacco.

Kezia broke the silence. "Bernice May suggested Christian's father might have been violent."

Don looked at her, startled. "But you knew that."

Horrified by the implicit admission, Kezia immediately replied. "Why would I?"

He turned the cigar over in his fingers. "The night he left town, after the … episode."

"What episode?"

"He said he was going to see you and sort things out." Don frowned. "I always assumed … good God. What did he tell you?"

"That he'd had enough of the place. That he was too restless to hang  around until his university scholarship kicked in. That he was leaving  to find work in Auckland until it did. We'd already talked about me  going with him but I thought I still had two months to decide. Instead  he gave me an ultimatum-go with him then or forget it. I said no."                       
       
           



       

Kezia's breath caught in her throat. "In the morning when I went to the  farm, his father yelled through the door that he'd gone for good." Her  gaze pinned his. "What didn't Christian tell me, Don?"

The tip of old man's cigar glowed red as he dragged deeply on it,  exhaling on a sigh. "The only reason I found out about the beatings-"  Kezia gasped "-was because I nearly ran him over."

"It was a miserable night," he said, "raining hard, poor visibility. He  was running down the middle of the road in a terrible state. Told me  he'd killed his old man."

He paused to relight his cigar, took two quick puffs. "We drove back to  the farm together and on the way he blurted it all out. Said Paul had  been beating him on and off for years, that he'd managed to minimize it  by sleeping in the barn whenever he saw him hit the bottle."

Kezia stifled a moan. It was too horrible to believe. Her mind scrambled  for a reason to make it untrue. "But I never saw any marks on him."

"The beatings stopped when Christian was seventeen, big enough to fight  back. Paul Kelly was a hell of a big man, built like an ox. They'd had a  standoff apparently, and the boy said he'd kill Paul if he ever touched  him again. Things had been quiet for over a year but that night Paul  pushed his luck and gave the boy a whack. Christian said it was like a  volcano erupting inside him. The next thing he knew Paul was on the  floor covered in blood and he was running for help."

He blew a ring of smoke and paused to watch it dissipate. "He'd hit him a  good one all right," remarked Don with satisfaction. "When we got  there, Paul was bleeding like a stuck pig but he'd recovered enough to  shout that he was going to blow Christian's head off at the first  opportunity. I was all for calling the police but Christian swore me to  secrecy. He left to see you then, and was gone by morning."

Kezia couldn't hide her feelings, and the old man's eyes softened. "I can't believe the damn fool didn't tell you."

"Did Nana know?"

"Muriel thought she knew all his secrets but she didn't know that one,  and I never told her. It would have broken her heart thinking she'd  failed him. You see, she found out the rest of his home situation when  he was fourteen, but the boy begged her not to tell Child Protection  Services. He said he'd managed for two years, was nearly a man." Don  snorted.

"Anyway, in return for keeping his secret he had to accept some  practical support and let her keep an eye on him. She used to say to me,  'I've never met a kid so proud and so damn stubborn.'" Don's gaze fell  on Kezia. "That was why he gave her the IOU, so one day he could repay  her in kind."

Her anguish must have been obvious because he patted her hand. "Honey, I  think Christian's independence was so ingrained he couldn't tell all  his secrets even if he wanted to."

Kezia couldn't answer. Never come to the farm, promise me. Christian's  bandaged hand, shrugged off as a farm accident. She recalled his  uncompromising mood that night driven not by arrogance but by  desperation. With sickening clarity she saw their past for what it was-a  wasteland of missed opportunities.

Her pity died in the face of her anger. All those lost years they should  have had together. If Christian had only trusted her. She stood. "We'll  let him make his own excuses, shall we?"

Don jumped up and tossed his cigar into the flower bed. "Now, Kezia, remember we're at a wedding."

"I don't care," she said, and he appeared even more alarmed. Oh, yes, Kezia Rose always cared.

"Now you just stay here and calm down. I'll fetch him out."

While Kezia waited, she paced the garden, back and forth, back and  forth, kicking off her heels when they caught in the damp earth, too  agitated to stop. She balled her hands into fists.

But when a wary Christian finally arrived some ten minutes later, she  was back sitting on the wall, legs crossed, sunglasses hiding her  emotions. She didn't bother with preambles. "Don told me that the night  you left Waterview your father attacked you."