Lynsey Stevens - Close Relations

And Georgia could only sit there as her brother walked away. Before she could move, unclip her centre seat belt and slip into Lockie’s now vacant place by the door, Jarrod pulled the station wagon away from the kerb. She was left sitting close to Jarrod, as close as lovers. The way they used to…

Once again her brother had neatly sidestepped any responsibilities.

‘I’m sorry about all this-’ Georgia strove to keep her voice even ‘-and I appreciate your helping us out,’ she finished quickly.

‘As I said, it’s no sweat.’ He was frowning, and they lapsed into an uncomfortable silence until Georgia had to direct him to turn off the highway.

The flats were old but well kept and they had no trouble finding the right one, for Morgan was standing in the lighted open doorway watching for them. As Georgia climbed out of the car she came hurrying down the path, suitcase in hand.

‘Georgia! Thank goodness you’re here. I thought Steve would come back before you finished. I’ve got my things. Let’s go,’ she finished breathlessly.

‘Just a minute, Morgan.’ Georgia stopped her sister’s headlong flight with a hand on her arm. ‘I think we should go inside and wait for Steve and you can explain exactly what happened.’

‘When we get home, Georgia. I’ll tell you then. I don’t want to see Steve or stay here any longer, and what’s more I’m not going to.’

‘Only a couple of weeks ago you couldn’t bear to be anywhere else,’ Georgia reminded her sister wearily.

Morgan turned on her, her darkish curls flouncing. ‘And I might have known you’d throw that up at me, Georgia. You think I’m still a child, but I’m not a child!’ She stamped her foot.

‘Morgan—’ Georgia went to put her hand on her sister’s shoulder but the younger girl brushed it away.

‘I’m not staying, Georgia. You don’t even care that I’ll probably have a black eye tomorrow. Oh, come on. I’ll get the rest of my stuff later. Let’s go.’ She reached for the cardoor catch.

Jarrod had walked around the car by now and he took the case from Morgan before opening the door for her.

‘For heaven’s sake.’ The young girl noticed him for the first time. ‘I don’t believe it. Jarrod Maclean.’

He inclined his head. ‘One and the same. I’m sorry we’re not meeting in better circumstances.’

‘Well, yes.’ Morgan shot a swift glance at Georgia before smiling a little unsteadily. ‘You don’t look a day older and it must be—what, four years?’

‘More or less. And perhaps you should save that, “You don’t look a day older,” until you see me in broad daylight rather than under a dull streetlight.’

Morgan laughed then, relaxing. ‘You’re still more of a hunk than you have a right to be. And I guess I look a bit different from when you last saw me too.’

‘Yes, you’re all grown-up-without your school uniform and your ankle socks.’

‘I’m about the same age Georgia was when you came home from college, aren’t I?’

The air about them thickened and Georgia’s knuckles whitened as she clenched her fists.

‘Round about.’ Jarrod’s reply was flatly casual.

‘That’s the trouble with families.’ Morgan wrinkled her nose at Jarrod. “They’ve all seen you at your worst and they aren’t above reminding you about it either.’

‘Morgan.’ Georgia’s voice sounded thin to her ears.

‘Especially big sisters,’ Morgan remarked as she slid into the front seat of the car.

Jarrod was still holding the door open and Georgia could only climb into the car herself. After closing the door, Jarrod deposited Morgan’s case in the back of the wagon and climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘How long have you been home?’ Morgan asked him as he set the car in motion.

‘Almost a week.’

‘Georgia told me Uncle Peter had had another heart attack so I guess that’s why you’ve come home.’

“That’s right.’

‘The last I heard, you were in the States. What I wouldn’t give to go somewhere exciting like that. And what a bore to have to come back here.’

‘Morgan…’ Georgia tried to stem the flow of her sister’s bubbling conversation.

‘Well, it is boring. What’s to do around here?’

Georgia sighed.

‘But, Jarrod—’ Morgan put her hand on his arm ‘—I’m sorry about Uncle Peter. I always liked him,’ she said sincerely.

Georgia barely heard her. She sat suddenly tense, a play of bewildering emotions momentarily pushing her worries about Morgan’s lack of tact out of her mind. Morgan’s small hand seemed to glow where it rested on Jarrod’s arm, its paleness in stark contrast to his tanned skin. What could be happening to her? She wanted to reach out and pull Morgan’s hand away.

‘I know Georgia visits Uncle Peter every week,’ Morgan was saying, ‘but I bet he’s pleased to see you back home.’

Georgia forcibly tore her gaze from Morgan’s hand and shifted guiltily on the seat It had been well over a week since she’d seen Uncle Peter. Not since he’d dropped his bombshell about Jarrod’s return and she’d run like a startled rabbit.

She should have known with his father being so ill that Jarrod would come home, but for some reason-selfdelusional-it hadn’t occurred to her. And it hadn’t been only Uncle Peter’s obvious pleasure at his son’s imminent return that had had her heart aching. She’d been caught unawares and she’d taken flight, not returning to the Maclean house in case she ran into Jarrod and made a complete fool of herself.

Sitting here beside him only emphasised how easy that would be for her to do.

‘How is he now?’ Morgan asked, and Jarrod shrugged slightly.

‘He’s a little better, according to the doctor, but the last attack he had took its toll on him. That’s why Isabel sent for me.’

There was an edge to his voice when he mentioned his stepmother and Georgia also tensed, blanketing the memories before they could take hold of her.

When Georgia had been a child the Macleans, Peter and Isabel, had always confused her with their relationship. They were cool, restrained, never laughed together the way her parents did. And when Jarrod joined the family she had felt sorry for the tall, lanky teenager who had come to live in that quiet, unemotional atmosphere.

Isabel Maclean was Georgia’s mother’s older sister, yet the two sisters couldn’t have been more dissimilar. Georgia’s mother had been bright and effervescent, loving and caring. Isabel rarely so much as smiled, and Georgia couldn’t remember her aunt ever hugging any of them when they were children.

After Jarrod had arrived Georgia had always sensed that although Isabel and her stepson never openly expressed their dislike it was a mutual emotion. Or so she’d thought.

She recalled asking him once what he thought of Isabel and he had retreated into himself, shutting her out Until she’d slid hot kisses along the line of his square jaw to nibble teasingly on his earlobe. Then he’d turned to her, his arms holding her almost desperately to him, kissing her with a fierce passion that had at first frightened and then inflamed her.

‘And how’s Aunt Isabel coping with Uncle Peter’s last attack?’ Morgan asked.

‘With her usual self-possession,’ Jarrod replied evenly.

‘She’s a cold fish, that’s for sure.’

‘Morgan!’ Georgia reprimanded her sister.

‘Well, she is, Georgia. She’s always been like that. When I was a kid I used to wonder what she’d do if I climbed on her knee and put my sticky fingers on her dress, but I was never game to find out’ Morgan giggled. ‘I reckon she’d have passed out if I had. She wasn’t a bit like our mother. You’d never have known they were sisters, would you, Jarrod?’