Heartbeats in Moonlight

Chapter 38

Ella expected to hear from David on Sunday, or at least by Monday. But when she woke up on Tuesday there were no message from him. That is when she realised that Saturday had simply been a blip on his radar. Just like that kiss in the school car park. He clearly had no intention of building on what had happened on Saturday. Probably because she went and sat with Mallory. She had to; it was obviously that Mallory needed her support. And she didn't have time to explain it to David on Saturday. She thought she would tell him about it, if he called.

But on Tuesday, Ella thought his excuse had nothing to do with Saturday. He probably changed his mind. She just thought she had been dropped by him after a kiss, again. Admittedly this time there had been no accusations of anything. So Ella went over their conversation on Saturday and after Ella gave herself a stern talking to, she came up with a plan. So, on Tuesday afternoon, Ella emailed David to ask when it would be convenient to show him the plans. She had taken a page from David's manual, to face things head-on! She'd hoped to have the courage to phone, but at the last minute had chickened out, and resorted to the safe distance of email.

Much to Ella's delight, he'd emailed back suggesting a meeting on Thursday evening. Instantly she replied and agreed to that date. But then her joy vanished, when her head reminded her that he had not contacted her, that she had contacted him and left him a message about the interior job. This date was obviously about the interior job. Her bliss disappeared.

David had avoided Ella for the last few days because as Confucius said it is easy to hate and it is difficult to love. And they had ten years to cultivate hate. So he wanted to be certain that his feelings were not transitory and he wanted Ella to be sure about them, that this wasn't just a relapse.

David opened his front door and found Ella wearing one of her boxy suits again. "Have you eaten?" David asked as Ella stepped in. He took in her formal attire. Very professional-looking. Her hair was coiled at the nape of her neck, she had tiny pearl studs in her ears, and she had a tiny brooch on the lapel of her jacket. Obviously not a date.

"Sorry?" She blinked at his direct question.

"Have you had dinner?" He repeated.

"Er, no, not yet."

"I was about to serve up." He closed the door, and gestured towards the kitchen. He breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness she had come. He followed her into the kitchen

"You said to come at this time, but I can come back later." Should she expect company, another of his girlfriends, like her previous visit to David's home? Was he having dinner with a girlfriend?

"No, no." He said. She looked bemused. He smiled. "Perhaps you could join me?"

"Join you?"

"Yeah. We can talk and eat, can't we?"

"Sure. Of course." She didn't want to come back. It had taken all of her nerve to show up at his home, this evening. But dinner? Here? With him? Her heart hammered. She looked around, deciding where to put her satchel and laptop. She left them by the kitchen door.

He asked as he indicated for her to take a seat at the breakfast bar. "Grab a seat. Make yourself comfortable." He told her before pulling out the breakfast bar-stool for her.

"Thank you."

"Wine?" He lifted a bottle.

"Er, no, thanks. I'm driving." And I don't want to do anything stupid. She added silently.

"Juice?"

He reached into the fridge for a carton of fresh juice, poured a glass for her and set it on the breakfast counter. "Salad and pasta." He told her as he brought two large bowls to the counter. He returned with a large platter of salad vegetables. "You want to dice, shred whatever? I'll just get this sauce ready."

"Dice and shred?"

"Yeah, I haven't done salad yet."

She wasn't expecting to help him to prepare dinner. "Oh, right. Sure." She reached for the large tomatoes and began to slice.

"I'll do the sauce."

"Ok." Nearly domestic, she mulled as the thoughts whirred through her brain. She sliced cucumbers, shredded the lettuce, diced the peppers, added some sliced avocado. And by the time she had cut up a little of everything on the platter he returned with the tortellini and sauce.

"Thanks for that." He looked at her efforts. "I'll get the dressing."

For want of something to say, Ella said, "Smells good."

"My mum's recipe." He told her as he set the small jug of dressing on the breakfast bar beside the salad.

"Your mum's Italian?"

"Quarter." David laughed at her look of astonishment, "She is one eight Maori, one eight French, quarter Pacific islander, quarter Dutch."

"Wow." She couldn't help the smile as she shook her head in surprise. He began to spoon some of the pasta into a bowl and handed it to her. "Thanks." She said.

"My dad's a Scot." He told her as he got a bowl of pasta for himself. "Help yourself to salad and dressing if you want."

"That's practically the united nations you have there." She reached for the salad, and he passed her the dressing. "Thanks."

"You haven't met my family?" He questioned.

"Apart from Jack." Ella corrected.

"What about you? I would have said, Wales, given your surname!" He pulled out the stool and took a seat facing her.

"Dad's Welsh but my mum was fourth generation Dutch kiwi." She forked up a bit of the tortellini and popped it into her mouth.

"Brothers or sisters?" He asked watching as her lips licked at the sauce that traced her lips. He had never asked her about her family at the camp training. David couldn't remember the topics despite the fact they talked, every day for a week, at that training camp. He remembered that they had laughed, smiled, with fleeting touches, until that kiss.

"Three sisters." Amelia told him matter of fact. "This is good."

"Thanks. Three?" He queried, "Older or younger?" He wondered what they had talked about ten years ago. Obviously not family, or school or jobs. What had they talked about? But he remembered that during their conversation they held the rest of the world at bay.

"I'm in the middle. What about you?"

David retrieved the salad and helped himself. "You know I come from a large family. "

"Large, meaning?"

"Eight of us. The Pacific island influence I think!"

Ella grinned. "Eight." She shook her head, "Your mother must be a saint." She didn't remember talking about family. Or David's job or her school. So what exactly did they talk about, ten years ago?

"A tyrant!" He corrected and forked up some salad. "Four sisters and three older brothers."

For a few seconds there was silence as both ate. No need for small talk to fill the silence, because it felt ok. They were comfortable. They built a wall to hide the fact that they were comfortable in their company. This is what he remembered, this simple camaraderie, the way it felt, as if the pieces fit. Silence and talking was special.

When Ella put her cutlery down, David said, "No pudding I'm afraid." He told her. "Plenty of fruit if that's ok."

"I'm full, thanks. I wasn't expecting to be fed here. That was lovely. Thank you." Her eyes tracked David's eyes.

He hesitated. He was thinking about kissing her. "Your welcome." He retrieved the bowls and their cutlery and headed for the sink and blew out a breath as he tried to command his reactions.

"Can I help you wash up?" She brought the salad bowl over toward him.

He looked sheepish. "I'm trying to decide whether to risk telling you a lie, so that we do the dishes together." She frowned as she tried to make sense of what he said. "I have a dishwasher." He told her and gestured toward a concealed unit. "But you have to admit, that is the longest conversation we have had in the last two years." He rinsed the cutlery and crockery and put stacked them in the dishwasher.

Ella shifted suddenly nervous, "Yes."