Gemma nodded. Her body relaxed against his, she listened to his heartbeat. For several minutes, she remained in her husband’s protective cocoon.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered. “I have buried those feeling towards Mum for many years. My subconscious is very adept at keeping my worse emotions tucked away. John thinks I have an excellent memory. He doesn’t know it is very selective.”
“I know, babe.”
Chapter 15. Ironing and Poetry
Day Eight
The staff laid out a breakfast feast in honour of their guests.
“There are only four of us aren’t there? There is enough to feed an army.” John lifted a lid on a covered dish to reveal scrambled eggs. “Andi is comatose in bed still. Not a morning person.”
“Like me, you mean.” Gemma helped herself to fruit punch. “Jason, on the other hand, is definitely a morning person. He’s in the gym. Up at the crack of dawn, checking his e-mails. Work is a swine at the moment for him.” She took a seat at the table. “I have something I have to do this morning. You should chill out or use the lower pool for a swim.
“I might try out the gym.” John heaped a pile of eggs on his plate. “Please, tell me there is smoked salmon in one of these.” He lifted another lid and scowled at the tomatoes.
Gemma pointed at a dish. “He
re. I’m sure Jason would love the company. Don’t let him turn it into a competition, though. Don’t want to have to bring you out in a wheelchair!”
For a brief time, they chatted on their own. The main topic of conversation, her parents. The long hours her father worked and how little leisure time he had. Her mother and her numerous positions on various local committees.
“She’s taken up art classes.” John sliced through his salmon. “Saturday mornings. She says it’s too late. Never too late, though, is it?”
She hadn’t known. Her mother hadn’t told her about art classes. She swallowed back a terse remark about being the last to know anything. However, it seemed unfair to blame John. Perhaps she’d become so wrapped up in her own life to notice the changes in her mum’s. She cleared her throat, turned to her brother, and smiled.
“Of course not. That’s the nice thing about art, you can do it at any age. I’m glad, really.” Gemma picked at her food. “I have to go.” She would have her massage and try to shrug off the urge to feel jealous about her mother’s artistic activities. She’d done nothing to further her own ambitions except donate the odd picture to a charity auction.
Following her massage, somewhat rejuvenated, Gemma found her guests relaxing in the lower pool, petting each other. They swam closer as she approached.
“Hi, you guys. Happy?” she asked.
“Blissfully. Thanks.” John tucked Andrea close to him in the aqua water.
Gemma smiled at them. “Andrea, would you like a fantastic massage? Maria is more than happy to give you one.”
“Oh, yes.” Andrea climbed out and wrapped an oversized towel around her. “Where can I find her?”
“She’s in the spa room.” Gemma watched Andrea head inside, out of the intensifying sun. “No gym?”
“No. By the time Andi and I finished breakfast, Jason had left, and I lost the inspiration. Pool called.” He splashed water up at her, and she jumped back with a shriek.
Leaving her brother to his swim, she wandered into the salon where Jason sat alone, eating a hearty breakfast. Gemma slipped into the seat next to him and helped herself to coffee.
“You didn’t want me this morning, Sir,” she murmured.
“No. Tempting as it was to wake you up, I left you to your slumbers.” He buttered a slice of toast.
She released a muted sigh of disappointment.
“A bottomless pit you are, Gemma! You will manage. Try a spell in the gym. Sulk, and I will take you upstairs and spank you. Then you can explain to your brother why you can’t sit down.” He raised an admonishing eyebrow.
Uh-oh. Time for a new subject. “When will you go out on the powerboat?”
“Once I’ve finished breakfast. Lubinsky and Ted will have to get the boat ready. We won’t stray too far. We might head inshore and find a cove. You girls can squander your time on the sundeck.”
“Naked?” asked Gemma.