The Candidate Read Online Free
Author: Juliet Francis
Gibson’s Bay.
The house — bach — was another matter. He hadn’t used it much since it became his. A couple of weeks here and there each summer with his mates, a memorable few nights with a lady friend a year or so back, the odd boys’ weekend, and one horrid but necessary week of intensive study halfway through his degree to assuage the threat of having to repeat a year.
Once a small farm cottage with the kitchen and bathroom at the back, its living area had been extended to include a sunroom, and a deck tacked on along the front. A small bedroom that had probably once been a walk-in larder still contained the bunks Mac remembered as a kid.
He liked it beaten up and shabby. But ideas had started running through his head the last year or so — a long list of improvements. It would need time though, and money, of course. And more focus than he could currently give it.
Yesterday’s heat and brilliant blue sky had given way to dense grey cloud; the air was close and warm. Out in the water a couple of kids had escaped the humidity with a swim. Well, he thought, for better or worse, he had his answer. There was only one path now and he was going to concentrate everything on it.
He thought of Ginny. He replayed last night, felt her body against his, tasted her on his lips. He closed his eyes, pictured her. Gorgeous, vital, frustrating, kind … but not his. He unclenched his fists and saw in his mind — briefly — how their fingers had threaded together. He let his feelings rush through him, almost drown him. He stood there, recounting, reliving. Then he pulled them back. Pulled back all that heat, that want, all that love. Wound it in, smaller and smaller, until it was just a kernel, and placed it carefully yet securely away in the deepest part of his heart.
He turned his thoughts to what lay ahead. He was physically fit, strong enough for what he was going to have to do. The time here was perfect for finishing the long and focused campaign to get his body into peak condition. The real challenge was whether he had the mental strength, the heart and determination, to see it through. Last night, with Ginny, he thought he did. This morning, with that option so securely shut down, he knew he did.
Nothing was going to get in the way. One dream had gone up in smoke and flames — no way would this one. He wouldn’t let it; he wanted it too much.
‘Time to get on with it, Mac.’ He spoke out loud, checking himself. Found he was okay. That kernel was tucked up tight; he hardly even registered it was there. And, jogging lightly down the stairs, he went out for a run.
NOW
Chapter 1
As dawn cracked the skyline, shooting colour and light across the water and up onto Tamaki Drive, Ginny ran. The early-summer morning held a welcome freshness that, if the forecasters were right, would burn up by lunchtime. The bite in the air made the edges of everything sharp and clean, a welcome contrast to the building heat from the hard pace she set for herself.
Some old U2 played loudly on her iPod as she tried, and failed, to rein herself back. The round trip from Hobson Bay to St Heliers wasn’t a biggie, but she needed to warm up properly before she really stretched out. However, the air felt too good and the path ahead was too empty to not just eat it up.
She tuned into the music, put her head into the back seat and let her body take over. Running was her relaxation, her meditation. It evened her out when she was stressed or tired, or just plain grumpy, and the endorphin rush was highly addictive. With her body now in its third decade, she tried to balance the high-impact activity with swimming and the odd Pilates class, but running was her passion. It was a glorious feeling: to be fit and fast, running alongside the water with Bono singing strongly in her ears and another beautiful day beginning around her.
Not many others were out, although the cyclists were dependably present — streaming past solo or in
The house — bach — was another matter. He hadn’t used it much since it became his. A couple of weeks here and there each summer with his mates, a memorable few nights with a lady friend a year or so back, the odd boys’ weekend, and one horrid but necessary week of intensive study halfway through his degree to assuage the threat of having to repeat a year.
Once a small farm cottage with the kitchen and bathroom at the back, its living area had been extended to include a sunroom, and a deck tacked on along the front. A small bedroom that had probably once been a walk-in larder still contained the bunks Mac remembered as a kid.
He liked it beaten up and shabby. But ideas had started running through his head the last year or so — a long list of improvements. It would need time though, and money, of course. And more focus than he could currently give it.
Yesterday’s heat and brilliant blue sky had given way to dense grey cloud; the air was close and warm. Out in the water a couple of kids had escaped the humidity with a swim. Well, he thought, for better or worse, he had his answer. There was only one path now and he was going to concentrate everything on it.
He thought of Ginny. He replayed last night, felt her body against his, tasted her on his lips. He closed his eyes, pictured her. Gorgeous, vital, frustrating, kind … but not his. He unclenched his fists and saw in his mind — briefly — how their fingers had threaded together. He let his feelings rush through him, almost drown him. He stood there, recounting, reliving. Then he pulled them back. Pulled back all that heat, that want, all that love. Wound it in, smaller and smaller, until it was just a kernel, and placed it carefully yet securely away in the deepest part of his heart.
He turned his thoughts to what lay ahead. He was physically fit, strong enough for what he was going to have to do. The time here was perfect for finishing the long and focused campaign to get his body into peak condition. The real challenge was whether he had the mental strength, the heart and determination, to see it through. Last night, with Ginny, he thought he did. This morning, with that option so securely shut down, he knew he did.
Nothing was going to get in the way. One dream had gone up in smoke and flames — no way would this one. He wouldn’t let it; he wanted it too much.
‘Time to get on with it, Mac.’ He spoke out loud, checking himself. Found he was okay. That kernel was tucked up tight; he hardly even registered it was there. And, jogging lightly down the stairs, he went out for a run.
NOW
Chapter 1
As dawn cracked the skyline, shooting colour and light across the water and up onto Tamaki Drive, Ginny ran. The early-summer morning held a welcome freshness that, if the forecasters were right, would burn up by lunchtime. The bite in the air made the edges of everything sharp and clean, a welcome contrast to the building heat from the hard pace she set for herself.
Some old U2 played loudly on her iPod as she tried, and failed, to rein herself back. The round trip from Hobson Bay to St Heliers wasn’t a biggie, but she needed to warm up properly before she really stretched out. However, the air felt too good and the path ahead was too empty to not just eat it up.
She tuned into the music, put her head into the back seat and let her body take over. Running was her relaxation, her meditation. It evened her out when she was stressed or tired, or just plain grumpy, and the endorphin rush was highly addictive. With her body now in its third decade, she tried to balance the high-impact activity with swimming and the odd Pilates class, but running was her passion. It was a glorious feeling: to be fit and fast, running alongside the water with Bono singing strongly in her ears and another beautiful day beginning around her.
Not many others were out, although the cyclists were dependably present — streaming past solo or in
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