Secrets At Wongan Creek

by Juanita Kees

  He ran his hands down her arms, resting them on her hips and tugged her closer. His head descended and he whispered, ‘Please?’

  She forgot her answer as his lips moved over hers and she sank into his chest because her muscles lost the strength to hold her up. He kissed her slowly until she thought she’d melt from the controlled heat and a fire of a different kind that burned through her body. The same fire that had burnt that day in his ute, only stronger and more desperate.

  When he held her closer still, she wrapped her arms around his waist, felt the heat of his hands through the material of her trackpants and his reaction that told her Harley’s body remembered hers well.

  He lifted his head and rested his forehead against hers. That tender, caring thing he did—had always done—while he waited for permission to take it further. Except this time, it was him who called a halt.

  ‘It’s been a long day for you, Tikki.’

  She nodded, battling between being angry with him and taking matters into her own hands. Hands that reached even now for the waistband of his jeans where she tucked her fingers inside, holding him closer for a little while longer, thinking about how easy it would be to get naked, right here and now, and lose herself in everything Harley.

  Until she remembered her onesie and the damage on her back, and heard the cheerful tooting of a horn coming up the unsealed driveway.

  Harley swore and lifted his head. ‘That’ll be Mum and Dad. Their timing is impeccably awkward as usual. I’ve run out of bloody space in the freezer, so I hope she hasn’t brought any more food.’

  Tameka released her grip on his jeans and looked up at him. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For being there. I’ve missed having you around.’

  He looked at her for a long moment before releasing his hold on her arse and stepping back. ‘I’ve missed being there for you.’ He turned and walked down the hallway to the front door.

  Tameka gripped the back of a kitchen chair and wondered how she could look his parents in the face with the memory of what had happened to Ryan rattling around in her head and having lost her heart to Harley all over again.

  Chapter 13

  ‘Tameka love, how are you?’ Shirley bustled into the kitchen loaded with shopping bags which she lined up on the kitchen table.

  ‘I’m okay, thanks.’

  Harley’s mum hugged her, careful not to touch her back. ‘Goodness me, you gave us a scare. You’ve got a little more colour in your cheeks since I saw you at the hospital. How are those burns healing up?’

  Tameka shrugged off the memory of what had put the colour in her face only moments earlier. ‘It’s all going good.’

  ‘And your head?’ Shirley touched the bruised area around the white bandage on Tameka’s temple with gentle fingers.

  ‘Tender but better.’

  ‘That’s a nasty bruise, sweetheart.’

  ‘It will heal.’ Tameka stepped away from the warmth and love she didn’t deserve. Shirley had always been so kind to her, almost like a second mum even after she’d lost her eldest son. She wouldn’t feel that way when the truth came out. ‘Would you like a cup of tea, Mrs B?’

  ‘In a minute, love. I’ve brought you a couple of things I thought might be a better fit than the emergency supplies we gave you at the hospital.’

  ‘Oh, you didn’t have to do that. Harley and I rescued my clothes from the homestead.’

  Shirley waved away her protest and dipped her hand into a bag. She pulled out a handful of neatly folded, lacy undies. ‘Here we go. These are much better than those awful stripy things. I got a bargain at this lovely little shop in Perth.’ She winked and held up a barely-there lacy triangle. ‘Feel that, love. You wouldn’t even know you’re wearing it.’

  Tameka touched the buttery soft lace and had to admit Shirley was right. She took the scrap of lace and turned it over in her hands, enjoying the luxurious feel of the material in a colour that wasn’t her usual beige.

  Harley and his dad stepped into the kitchen as Shirley held out more of the same in different colours. Harley’s eyebrows shot into his hairline at the same time heat crept into Tameka’s cheeks. She scrunched the tiny triangle into her fist. But Shirley who’d been a farmer’s wife for far too long to be embarrassed turned to show the men her bargain haul.

  ‘What do you think, Harley? Much better than what Tameka has at the moment, right?’

  ‘Very nice, Shirl. I hope you picked up a few pairs for yourself while you were there.’ Mr B peeked into the shopping bags and pulled out a bra to match the undies. ‘Yeah, too small for you.’

  ‘Tom! Put that back.’

  He dropped it back in the bag and grinned. Horrified and feeling her face flame with embarrassment, Tameka looked at Harley. He smiled, the bastard.

  ‘Very nice, Mum. I’ll get Tikki to model them for me later.’

  ‘No I bloody won’t.’

  Shirley patted Tameka’s arm. ‘Oh, he’s teasing you, love. Stop it, Harley. Here, these will need to be washed. I can hear the washing machine going already so add that to the pile.’ She shoved them into his hands. ‘Don’t forget to take the tags off first. And put them into one of those mesh laundry bag things so they don’t get all messed up.’

  A frustrated scream built inside Tameka. She didn’t want these people’s kindness or their well-meaning charity. She didn’t deserve it. Irritation edged along her nerve endings and she clenched her teeth against it. They meant well. The Bakers were nice people. It was Shirley’s nature to nurture. Tameka’s short nails bit into her palms. It wasn’t their fault she wasn’t used to kindness and nurturing.

  Harley’s smile turned to a frown and he stepped closer. His fingers pried hers loose to free the undies from her fist. He added it the haul in his other hand. ‘It’s okay, Tikki. You don’t have to take them or wear them,’ he told her quietly.

  She nodded because the lump in her throat wouldn’t let words out of her mouth. She wouldn’t cry. And she wouldn’t admit that she’d like to model that underwear for Harley and have him take it off her.

  Nor would she acknowledge that what she really wanted to do was throw herself into Shirley Baker’s arms, cry until she had no tears left and tell her everything so she could feel the love of a mother again. Someone other than the man she loved telling her everything would be alright.

  What the hell was wrong with her? She wasn’t a bloody sook who cried for nothing. She hadn’t cried since the day her father had torn her and Harley apart, since the beating she’d received that left her bruised and broken, since her mother had walked out the door and never looked back.

  But even as she gazed into Harley’s face, the tears formed in her eyes and spilled over her cheeks. Her lips quivered like a God damn baby’s, and when Harley’s arms went around her, undies and all, big brave independent Tameka Chalmers fell apart and sobbed into his damn shirt.

  ‘Bloody hell, Tikki. After all you’ve been through it’s sexy undies that brings you undone?’ One hand smoothed over her hair while the other clenched in a fist around the underwear and rested on the curve of her bum.

  ‘Screw you, Baker.’

  ‘Any other time I’d take you up on that offer, baby, but right now with your snot on my shirt, I’ll pass thanks.’ His lips pressed against her temple above the bruise.

  She thumped a fist against his chest, not hard enough because her hand was trapped between them. Damn him for remembering that soothing, comforting words had never worked on her, that they only made her cry harder. For knowing her far too bloody well.

  ‘You wouldn’t know what to do with a girl like me.’ Except he did. He knew exactly what she needed.

  ‘If that’s a challenge, we can head for the bedroom right now and I’ll happily help you out of that onesie.’

  ‘Harley Baker!’ Shirley’s voice came between them. ‘Have you forgotten your parents are in the room?’

  ‘How could he, dear, with you yelling at him like that?
’ Tom opened the fridge. ‘Got any beer in here, son?’

  ‘You are not having a beer, Tom. Alcohol is bad for your heart.’

  ‘You didn’t see the news on telly then. Scientists reckon a beer a day is good for you. I’m just helping them with their research.’

  Tameka ignored their banter, grateful that they’d turned a blind eye to her meltdown, and lifted her head to look at Harley. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome. Okay now?’

  She nodded. She had to be. There was no other choice. Harley held on until she wriggled out of his hold. ‘I need some air. I’ll be outside.’

  Loki hauled himself up out of his resting position under the table and trailed behind her down the hallway. Tameka grabbed Harley’s puffer jacket off the peg and threw it around her shoulders. With the sun heading towards late afternoon, the air would be cooler down by the dam. That’s where she did her best thinking with the water lapping at the shore, the birds in the trees and the soothing sight of the sun and ripples of wind on the water to ease the tension from her neck.

  Clutching the edges of the jacket and wriggling into its warmth, she followed the familiar path across the Baker’s field, through the gate onto Golden Acres and down to the dam.

  Still no sign of Dad’s ute. She didn’t know whether to be happy or afraid that he hadn’t come home yet. Didn’t want to think about what would happen when he did. Or if he didn’t.

  The homestead stood gloomy and empty with its back to the creek and the yellow tarp on the roof flapping in the breeze. If Dad hadn’t kept the insurance going, they had no hope of rebuilding the damaged part of the house. She should be happy about that. This could be her ticket out.

  With no money to rebuild, they’d have nowhere to live. Dad might consider selling up and she’d lose everything she’d worked so hard to keep. Perhaps then she could walk away from all this. Or he could come home and pull the trigger on his gun and end it for himself. Or both of them.

  Would he even come back to check if she’d survived the fire? Or would he simply abandon the property, leaving it behind to deteriorate, believing she was dead? How long could she keep it going alone not knowing?

  Perhaps she should take the coward’s way out. Pick up her duffle bag from Harley’s laundry floor, empty whatever cash she could find in the safe on Golden Acres and leave Wongan Creek behind.

  Leave with the visions of a burning shed and flames licking at the walls of the kitchen in her head. Live with the knowledge that her father was cruel enough to walk away from a burning shed with a boy trapped inside and had hated her enough to leave her to die too.

  Go on with life being angry with herself because she’d never be able to make her father love her enough to stop being a miserable, cold-hearted, empty man.

  Tameka slipped her arms into the jacket sleeves and zipped it up. Warmth eased the chill from her bones. Loki barked, and she looked over her shoulder to see Harley’s mum making her way down with two thermo mugs and a packet in her hands.

  She sighed. She should have guessed Shirley would follow her down to make sure she was okay. At least it wasn’t Harley. He’d begun chipping away at her wall and she couldn’t let him break it down again like he had in the kitchen less than ten minutes ago.

  ‘I brought your tea down. Nice and hot. These thermal mugs are a great invention, aren’t they?’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs B.’ Tameka took the mug and wrapped her frozen fingers around it. Not much heat thanks to the insulation, but what little came through gave her comfort.

  ‘Call me Shirley, love. You’re all grown up now.’ She pulled a blister strip from her coat pocket. ‘I brought your painkillers. Harley says you’re about due for them again.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll take them when my tea cools down.’ She took the strip, quietly thankful for the painkillers. As much as she’d like to ignore the raw burn of pain that ate all the way up her back, now wasn’t the time to be brave.

  ‘Good idea. Here, have a biscuit too. Can’t have you taking those things on an empty tummy.’ Shirley handed her the plastic wrapper containing two tea biscuits, blew out a breath and shadowed her eyes with her hand. ‘It’s still so beautiful and peaceful down here by the water.’

  ‘I’m sorry my dad took the use of the dam away from you.’

  ‘Oh love, don’t worry about that. It was his dam on his property. We were lucky to have it for as long as we did, an agreement between us and the Fishers your dad had the good grace to continue for a while.’ She shrugged. ‘It made us consider other options which we would have had to think about anyway if drought took hold. It was a challenge, yes, but we worked around it. We’d planned to build our own dam, but then Tom had his heart attack and that changed things for us. But now Harley’s made a start on one anyway. All we’ll need when it’s done is the rain to fill it.’

  ‘But it put unnecessary stress on your business, on Mr B.’ Tameka sipped her tea through the hole in the lid on the mug.

  ‘Sweetheart, your dad closing off our pump on the dam had nothing to do with Tom’s heart attack if that’s what you’re worried about. He was smoking a pack a day back then.’ Shirley sighed. ‘Bakers Hill hasn’t been without its own challenges. We’ve had fires, too much rain, too little rain, losing Ryan … somehow we’ll survive this disaster too.’

  Losing Ryan. That was the turning point in all this. The axis on which their world had spun and created the fallout to come in later years. Tameka twisted the mug in her hand.

  ‘Can I ask you something about Ryan?’

  Shirley hesitated a moment, her eyes on the flock of cockatoos pecking between the roots of the weeping willow further up the bank.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘How did the fire start?’ As kids, they’d never been told, and what happened that day had never been discussed in front of the children again.

  ‘The firies found what was left of a box of matches next to Ryan when they … when they found him after the fire was out. We think he must have taken them from the house earlier that day and we don’t know why. It didn’t make sense at the time because Ryan never liked fire. He hated that Tom smoked. He didn’t even like those sparkler things or candles on his birthday cake.’ She sipped her tea quietly for a moment. ‘Who knows why he had the matches with him in the shed. Maybe he took them to stop Tom from lighting the next cigarette.’

  The hitch in Shirley’s voice made her own throat ache. Tameka hated to raise what must still be painful memories for a mother who’d lost her son in such tragic circumstances, but the need to find out if her memory was real or not ate at her mind. And if it was real, she’d have to cope with the fact that her father was guilty of murdering an innocent boy. She already knew he was mean enough to. Had he deliberately abandoned her to the fire or had he thought she would simply get up off the floor and save herself?

  ‘How come Ryan couldn’t get out of the shed when the fire started?’

  Shirley twirled the mug to cool the tea. Or perhaps she was buying time before answering. ‘Your dad said he’d been to the shed earlier to get some fertiliser. He knew you kids were playing around in the fields so he put the padlock on the door after he dragged it shut. He didn’t want you getting in there with all the poisons and fuel stored in the shed.’

  That didn’t make sense at all. When she’d seen her father lock the door, the shed was already on fire. But how reliable was that memory?

  ‘He didn’t see or hear Ryan inside the shed?’

  That would make sense though because Ryan would have stayed quiet knowing her dad would be super angry finding him in there when he’d forbidden them to play in the shed.

  ‘No. The firies think Ryan might have lit a match to find his way out in the dark, fallen over and dropped it. With so much fuel in the shed, the fire took hold quickly.’ Shirley raised a hand and dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, her words catching in her throat.

  Tameka’s throat ached with tears she couldn’t cry. A part of her didn’t want to
ask any more questions, didn’t want to hurt Shirley any further, but until she could lay Ryan’s ghost to rest in her head, the memory of what she thought she’d seen would continue to haunt her. ‘Why did the firies think Ryan fell over and dropped the match?’

  ‘When they did a post-mortem examination, they found he had a crack in his skull. The coroner ruled that he’d fallen, hit his head and was knocked unconscious which is why he couldn’t call for help and no-one knew he was there … until after.’

  Exactly as she had been when the fire in the kitchen had raged behind her father’s departing back. A sick feeling settled in her stomach, Tameka knew she wouldn’t be able to shake it until she found out the truth.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Shirley.’

  ‘It was an accident, sweetheart. A terrible, tragic accident. Tom still blames himself for not hiding the matches out of reach. I blame myself for not keeping a closer eye on the boys that day.’ She sighed, the sound released on a shaky breath. ‘What made you think of it after all this time? You and Harley were so little, barely eight years old. Was it the fire?’

  Tameka shrugged against the unease that crept up her spine. Clearly there would be someone else to blame if what she remembered was true. ‘I guess the fire brought it all back. If it wasn’t for Harley and Loki coming to my rescue …’

  She’d be dead too. Just like Ryan. And it wouldn’t have been a tragic accident. It would have been murder.

  Chapter 14

  Harley tried to concentrate on what his dad was saying and not worry about Tameka. The fire, her dad’s absence following it, the stark emptiness of the homestead and her reluctance to talk about anything—the combination clawed at his gut. Instinct told him something was off and it had nothing to do with the years of cold war between the Chalmers and the Bakers.

  He didn’t want to believe that her dad had abandoned her, but his prolonged disappearance was odd, even for a man who’d isolated himself from the community. Had never really been part of it. He’d seldom left the farm ever and certainly not for more than a couple of hours at a time when he did.