B
ANG. BANG. BANG. Tina’s fists pummelled against the front door. ‘I know you’re home, Brendan.’
‘Go Away.’ Ward sat in his chair and raised the remote to turn up the TV.
‘Mum’s here.’
‘Oh, man.’ He couldn’t leave his mother outside. ‘Hold on.’ Ward heaved, huffed and puffed getting out of the chair. With his slow shoe-shuffle, he panted as if he’d run a marathon to the front door. How unfit had he become?
‘Thank you.’ Tina walked in with head held high accompanied by the rustle of her many skirts.
‘Boys not home?’ Shirley asked, following.
‘No, they’re at a club function.’ Which is where he’d love to be, or anywhere else instead of being housebound.
‘Here, let me help you.’ Shirley put her arm through her son’s and guided him towards his chair.
‘Thanks, Mum. You can stay, but Tina can go.’
‘I’m not leaving yet. I’m waiting for Ron.’ Tina crossed her arms and tapped her foot, making her bell covered anklet jingle.
‘Why is Ron coming here?’
‘To bring that silly horse whisperer.’
Ward stood hunched before his chair, scowling sideways at his sister. ‘I. Said. No.’
‘You know what? I’m thinking the same thing. We should’ve left her at the racetrack, Mum.’
‘Why the sudden change, Tina?’ Yet, the faster his sister toe-tapped her jingling bell-tune, the redder her face got, he expected steam to scream from her ears any second now.
‘She told me to piss off.’
Ward grinned. He couldn’t help it. ‘To your face?’
‘She said I was spooking the horses.’
‘Well you were being loud and rude, dear,’ said Shirley.
‘Let me guess,’ said Ward, ‘Tina barged in and did her usual of demanding her crap be done yesterday. Hope you didn’t start a stampede, I heard racehorses can run, you know.’ Her ankle bells were irritating. ‘Do you sleep with those bells on?’
‘What?’ Tina raised her skirts to peek at her ankles.
At least that stopped the bells. ‘So, she’s not coming?’
‘No, she’s coming.’ Tina dropped her skirts with a shoulder-sagging sigh.
‘Why, if she told you to piss off?’ Ward wished he’d been there to see that.
‘Mum and Ron talked her into it. Ron’s showing her the way after her last patient. And I’m here to make sure this bitch doesn’t do the wrong thing.’
‘So, I’m a bitch now?’ A female voice asked with a laugh.
Ward froze with his back to the door. That wasn’t an old hag’s laugh.
‘Sorry, Zara, my daughter gets a little hot-headed in her protectiveness of family,’ said Shirley at the door. ‘Please come inside. You too, Ron.’
‘Thank you. Whoa, now this is a man-cave! Don’t lose me here, Ron.’ Zara said to the jockey.
‘It’s cool, the boys at the track would clobber me if I did.’ Ron went and stood beside Tina in front of the TV. ‘Tina, be nice. This is part of my working world, okay?’
Tina rolled her eyes. ‘Okay.’
‘How are you, Ward?’ Ron asked.
Ward stood by the chair he was dying to sit in. ‘Ron.’ He couldn’t nod at the jockey in his riding breeches, long boots and shirt.
‘Ward, this is Zara,’ introduced Ron.
Ward braced himself as he turned to face the door. Confused, because her voice was young, soft and feminine, and her laughter was unexpected. He raised his eyes, and they widened, as his jaw dropped as far as the neck brace allowed him.
‘Hi,’ Zara said, wearing tall riding boots like Ron, showing off shapely legs in tight long pants, topped by a grey hoodie and a black, sleeveless, puff vest. She ripped off her black beanie, brushing fingers over her hair and smiled.
‘Um…’ Ward gripped the back of his chair to steady himself. It was as if the world stopped, then tilted.
Her butterscotch blonde hair was worn in a soft plait that reminded him of summer. She swept her fringe to the right, tucking it behind her dainty ear to reveal her ice-blue eyes that were like a clear winter’s sky. His heart thumped as she smiled to reveal dimples.
‘You poor bugger.’
‘What?’ He rubbed his eyes as if waking from a dream.
Zara walked around him as her eyes scanned his body.
He inhaled her aroma of apricot nectar and gardenias, reminding him of cool summer night breezes and fresh-clipped lawns with that promising tin-tasting tang of rain in the air. ‘You’re not the horse whisperer-thingy, are you?’
‘No.’ Zara laughed as she looked him over.
‘That’s what we call you at the track, Zara,’ said Ron.
‘I wish you guys wouldn’t. People think up lots of crazy stuff when you say that, and the way Ward is looking at me, I’m right.’
‘Sorry.’ How could he have thought such horrid things about her? Yet, he searched for her hands. They were small, soft, with no yellow nails strong enough to pick off horseshoes. Was he hallucinating? ‘What are you then?’
Tina’s toe-tapping started the bell jingle all over again.
‘Ugh, those bells.’ Ward groaned in pain. How could he have his daydream while the nightmare of his sister was still in the room?
Zara stepped towards Ward and asked, ‘You’ve got a pinched nerve, huh?’
‘Yeah.’ He wanted to nod. Yet, he’d never been more exposed or helpless as a man in his entire life—until now.
‘Your mother was telling me you’re looking at surgery, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ Ward croaked. It was as if he’d lost his voice and his brain had switched off.
Should he hide in his room in shame? He looked like crap. Hadn’t shaved in days, where showering was a mission. Wearing whatever he could slip on because he hadn’t expected to be presented to a woman.
Yet, her shirt was untucked at the bottom of her hoodie. She wore no jewellery or makeup. She brushed aside stray strands of hair that feathered around her cheekbones, looking so soft and silky. Zara’s natural beauty was breathtaking.
Zara rubbed her palms together. ‘May I?’
Was he clean enough for this woman to touch him? Did he have time for a shower?
‘I’ll be gentle.’ As gentle as her voice, she placed her hand on his shoulder blades as her warm fingertips found their way under his brace. Her eyes watched him. He couldn’t, and didn’t want to look away.
‘He’s got—’ as Tina started, Ron grabbed the corner of the TV to stop its shuddering. Ward stepped back as if woken from a daydream, and Zara’s hand fell, suddenly cold away from her touch.
‘Was I talking to you?’ Zara asked, staring at Tina who said nothing. Zara then returned her attention to Ward. ‘Your sister, huh?’ Her grin exposed her dimples.
‘Yeah. You want her you can have her.’
‘No thanks. At least you still have your sense of humour.’ Zara giggled, and for the first time since the fall, Ward wanted to smile with her.
Tina’s skirts rustled as she stepped towards them. ‘How rude are you?’
Zara turned and faced Tina. ‘Look, no offence, Tina, but you don’t have to shout when you speak.’
‘I do not shout when I speak.’
‘You do,’ said Zara, ‘and if you don’t realise that I suggest you have a hearing test. I bet that’s why you’re so pushy, you think no one can hear you.’
Tina gasped with eyes and mouth wide open.
Ward grinned at his loud and overbearing sister rendered speechless.
‘Ron, take your girlfriend home, I can’t work if she’s here with her negativity crowding our space,’ said Zara.
‘Good idea,’ said Shirley. Tina, be a dear and go home with Ron, please.’
‘Thanks for this, Zara, I’ll see you trackside tomorrow for that coffee I owe you.’ Ron grabbed Tina’s hand. ‘Maybe you should get a hearing test, Tina,’ Ron said as he closed the door behind them.
‘You might be right about Tina’s hearing,’ Shirley said to Zara. ‘My sister had hearing problems for years and we never even noticed.’
‘My dad’s the same. He used to have the television on so loud and refused to use a mobile because he couldn’t hear. I had to make the appointment myself and then trick him to come with me.’
‘Did he have a hearing problem?’ Shirley asked.
‘Yep. He’s got a hearing aid now, so I can’t sneak into the house anymore and raid his rum like I used to.’ Zara laughed lightly as she removed her jacket and tossed it over Sam’s chair. Pushing up her sleeves she faced Ward. ‘Okay, this is the deal, I can’t and won’t promise anything. I want no complaints, no biting, kicking, or back scratching,’ she said with a grin. ‘There’ll be no back-chatting or bullshitting and we’ll get on just fine. And, if you’re lucky, I might even feed you a carrot.’
‘Oh man.’ Ward couldn’t help himself but chuckle. After a week of hell, this woman had him smiling. But the best part was, Zara had kicked his sister out. He’d happy dance if he could.
‘Can I get you anything, Zara?’ Shirley asked.
‘If this is a bachelor’s pad, I doubt they’d have any tea?’
‘I keep a stash for when I visit my boy. Care for a cuppa?’
‘That’d be great. Thanks, Shirley.’ Zara grabbed the cushions and blanket off the oversized couch and started arranging them on the carpet.
Ward stood unsure. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘Nothing. Your job is to relax and, hopefully, you’ll get some sleep.’ Zara stood in front of him and held out her palms. ‘Come on, I won’t bite. Do you?’
‘No.’ He put his palms in hers, they were so soft and small compared to his. He cringed with guilt for having all those bad thoughts about her.
‘I’ll help you down to the floor where you’ll lay face down in the centre of these cushions I’ve set up. Put your weight on me and lower yourself to your knees. I’ve got you.’ All the way to the carpet she never broke eye contact until he found himself on his knees. ‘I’m guessing you’re doing this against your will, huh?’
‘Yeah, sorry.’ He was now the world’s greatest buffoon with his naked butt blowing in the wind for all to see.
‘Don’t be. All I’m going to do is massage that area to try and give you some relief first. Then, I’ll see if there is anything I can do. So please, don’t get your hopes up.’
‘No offence, I won’t.’
‘Good. I like defiance in my sceptical clients.’ She smiled, showing her dimples.
He just had to smile back.
Zara knelt down before him, still holding his hand, and with the other she reached for his shoulder. A surge of electrified warmth travelled through his skin to his heart.
Zara snatched her hands back and blinked at her palms. ‘Are we getting static from the carpet?’
She’d felt that too?
‘Might take my boots off, while you remove your shirt.’ She jumped to her feet, kicked them off by the door, then walked back in her mismatched, brightly coloured socks.
His slid off his shirt letting it drop to the side, and grinned. ‘You’re wearing odd socks?’
‘Huh?’ Her toes wriggled in her socks. The left was lemon, the right a cherry red. ‘I got dressed in the dark this morning, running late,’ she said with a shrug, and again pushed up the sleeves of her hoodie.
‘No way.’ He’d never met a woman like her. Even in this house of men, they looked twice in the mirror before they walked out the door. Except for his sister, who mustn’t own a wardrobe to hang her clothes in because she wore it all at once.
Kneeling before him, Zara shared a soft smile and explained, ‘Our mission is to get you to lie down on your side first, then we’ll roll you onto your stomach.’
‘But, my neck.’ Ward clutched his neck brace like it’d become his security blanket.
‘I’ve got the cushions down for support, trust me, okay?’
‘But we’ve only just met.’
‘I know, you poor thing.’ Zara smiled, then lowered herself so her eyes met his. ‘We’ll do this together. As soon as you feel the slightest twinge, tell me and I’ll stop. I’m not here to hurt you.’
‘I trust you.’ The words spilled without thought. Ward was a man who didn’t trust lightly. He trusted his team players and his parents. He was being forced to trust a man he’d met twice to cut up his body. Yet, even in his most vulnerable state, this was the easiest admittance of trust—ever.
‘Good.’ Zara held out her hands and he lay his palms into hers, the surge of heat made his pulse jump from the squeeze of her hands. ‘Here we go.’ She lowered him to the sea of positioned cushions and then rolled him onto his stomach. ‘Are you okay?’
Ward lay straight and smiled into the cushion. ‘I haven’t been able to lie down or sleep for over a week.’ He couldn’t believe it.
‘Wow, you’d be grouchy to live with, huh? Now, deep breaths. I’m taking off the neck brace.’
As the brace came off, he tensed all over.
Zara put a palm on his lower back and leaned down to face him. ‘Hey, the cushions are positioned to support your neck. Remember, I asked you to trust me, and so now is the time. Consider this our first test. You’ll find you’re getting more support in that position than this brace. Now breathe and relax.’ Her voice was as calm and gentle as her hands that rubbed soothing circles on his back, and he exhaled, willing his body to relax.
‘My God, Brendan’s on the floor. How did you get him there?’ Shirley asked, with cups in hand.
‘Oh, he bitched about it.’
‘Don’t take the piss out of me while I’m defenceless.’ Ward smiled into the cushions. Did his mum call him Brendan—was he in trouble?
‘Doubt you’re the type to be defenceless. I’d bet you’re a fighter.’
‘My boy has always been a fighter. Here’s your tea, dear.’
‘Thanks.’ Zara took a sip and put her mug on top of the beer fridge and gave a soft chuckle. ‘You know, my dad would approve of the reclining chairs with the beer fridges. Okay, let’s start, shall we?’ With a clap of her palms, she rubbed them together, then placed them on his neck and shoulders, massaging his muscles.
‘What is it you do, Zara?’ Shirley asked, seated in Ward’s chair sipping her tea.
‘Reiki. It’s a form of traditional massage.’
‘You do training or something?’ Ward needed to know. But…man, this was good. Her small hands shifting against his muscles had finally found some reprieve.
‘Yes, six years here,’ replied Zara, ‘then I went to Hawaii where my mentor studied, then on to Japan before returning.’
‘Do you have an official title, dear?’
‘They call it Reiki Master.’
‘Like a Zen Master?’ Ward moaned with relief as the tension released like waves washing the sand on an escaping tide. He wanted to cry happy tears for finding heaven, and bit his lip to stop smiling.
‘No. They do a lot of meditation, perfecting the art of sitting still,’ said Zara. ‘Whereas, I’m the eternal fidgeter, always doing something with my hands.’
‘And what good hands you have.’ Ward relaxed deeper with each sliding shift of her palms. ‘What about Samurai Master?’
Zara laughed. ‘No. They’re into warfare and swords. I can’t even pillow fight, and I’m definitely no Jedi Master, either.’
Ward grinned. Her humour light, her voice calming, her temperament easy going, considering he was on the floor of his house and she wore odd pairs of brightly coloured socks. But those hands were amazing. It was hard to think straight as his body relaxed deeper.
‘So, you do horses, not humans, Zara?’ Shirley asked, sipping her tea as she watched on.
‘I’m trained for both humans and animals, but I prefer thoroughbreds. They’re tougher and never complain like people do.’
‘Yeah, right. Horses aren’t that tough,’ Ward scoffed.
‘As part of my technique of massage and Reiki, if I used the same amount of pressure on a human that I use on a horse, they’d run away. No matter how tough they think they are.’
‘Are you picking on me in my delicate position?’
‘Oh yeah, totally taking advantage of you in this position with your mother present.’ Zara giggled as Ward chuckled into the cushion.
‘It’s so good to hear my boy laughing again, it’s been so long. Thank you, Zara.’
‘We’re not done yet, Shirley. We’ve got a fair bit to do, if you’re willing to help me?’
‘Anything, dear. You name it. If you don’t mind me asking questions?’
‘Ask away.’
Ward lay there and tried to listen to Zara’s calm soft voice. But all he felt were those warm massaging hands, working deep into his muscles in a hypnotic pattern that soon sent him into a catatonic slumber.