She had her hood pushed back. He pulled her closer. ‘It’s been a good day, Sheva. Don’t worry, I’m here for you.’ He pulled her hood over her hair and tightened the cord.
Her grateful response was whipped away in the wind.
Sheva refused a coffee in Thredbo. She was skittish, anxious to get back to Jindabyne. She almost ran to the car. Roy handed her a cushion once she had her seatbelt on. ‘Have a nap, Sheva. It’ll be about thirty minutes to Jindabyne.’
She nodded and snuggled into the seat. Soon her eyes drooped shut. Roy drove well below the speed limit, taking the sharp bends even slower so as to not wake her. He ignored the impatience of other cars as they tailgated him and whizzed past, some honking their impatience.
***
‘No, no, I don’t want to do this. Let me go. Amma, amma,’ her voice was tortured and her dream state words only partly intelligible. Some of it was not in English. She struggled against the tight clasp of the seat belt.
Roy pulled off the road and onto the gravel edge of Alpine Way. He reached over and unclipped Sheva’s seatbelt. ‘Sheva, honey, it’s okay. It’s only a dream. No one will harm you.’ He wiped the tears off her cheeks with his fingertips and her eyes flew open. Roy recoiled at the stark horror in their black depth. He pulled off his own seatbelt and took her into his arms.
She burrowed her face in his shoulder, her hands gripping his shirt. ‘I’m sorry. You don’t need to see this. I haven’t had a nightmare for days. Not since—’ she paused and swallowed on a sob.
He ran his fingers over her hair. ‘Sheva, relax. You’re safe with me. Let it out. Tell me about it. It’s something from back home in Sri Lanka isn’t it? The people there on the summit brought it back to you, didn’t they? What happened to you? Were you hurt? Abused?’
Sheva lifted her face and pulled back from his embrace. ‘I—Roy, I do owe you an explanation.’ She shuddered and dropped her face in her hands.
Roy reached over her and clipped her seatbelt back on. He turned on the ignition. ‘Hang on a few minutes, Sheva. Let’s go somewhere we can talk without being disturbed by impatient drivers. Somewhere I can give you my full attention.’
The black leather seat cocooned her and made her seem small. She looked young and vulnerable. ‘Roy—’
Roy took his left hand off the wheel and placed it on hers. ‘Just a few minutes, Sheva.’ He swung off to the left at the sign “Lake Crackenback Resort”. In a few minutes, they were parked at the edge of a lake. The water, with hardly a ripple, mirrored the blue grey walls of the café they were parked next to and the misty hills of the mountain range they had just driven down. Rows of small chalets lined the edge of the lake. Roy leapt out and walked around to swing open the passenger side door. He took Sheva’s hand as she slipped down to the grass.
‘You haven’t eaten since the snack we had at Lake Cootapatamba. And it’s quiet here at this time of the year. We can talk in private.’
Roy pushed open the door of the café with the large stylised sign ‘CUISINE’ on the wall. The smell of roasted coffee and fresh baked bread wafted around them.
At the sight of Roy, a waiter ducked into the kitchen and soon after, a smiling middle-aged man in a chef’s hat walked out. He approached Roy with outstretched hands. ‘Che piacere vederti, Mr Knight.’
Roy reached for his hands. ‘Buona sera, Alonso. It has been too long.’
Alonso turned to Sheva. ‘Ah, Madame, welcome. You will have a meal. A late lunch maybe? I recommend smoked trout salad with fresh pear, garlic chives, rocket and poached egg. The trout is from our farm, right here in Jindabyne.’
Roy let go her hand to slip his arm around her shoulder. ‘Your recommendations are always perfect, Alonso.’ He turned to Sheva. ‘What do you say?’
At her nodded assent, Roy gestured to the seating area outside the main café. ‘We’ll take a seat on the deck. Over in the corner by the lake.’
‘Your wish is my command, Capo.’ He led them out of the café onto a shaded wooden deck extended onto the lake.
Roy held the chair for Sheva to sit down. As he was sitting opposite her, he added, ‘And Alonso, I’ll have the coffee. Your special cappuccino please.’
Alonso nodded. ‘Good choice, Capo. Freshly ground, as always. And for you, Madame?’
‘Long black, please,’ requested Sheva.
The food was delicious. Determined to make her relax, Roy talked about the alpaca farm. He explained to Sheva how the Suri alpaca were the gentlest and most beautiful breed, and greatly valued for their fleece. He pulled out his mobile phone and showed her a picture of the baby born just yesterday. ‘Baby alpacas are called cria, and this one is a girl. She has your eyes,’ he teased, ‘so I called her Sheva.’
They talked and before she knew it, Sheva had finished all the food on her plate. They sat with steaming mugs of coffee before them.
‘Fed and watered, Sheva. Time to talk.’
‘I’ll tell you all I can, Roy.’
She took a deep shuddering breath and started speaking: ‘My father passed away before I went to medical school in Sri Lanka. My postgraduate medical training was in the UK. I then accepted a job in Sydney. My ambition was—is—to complete my training in Neurovascular surgery and neuromuscular diseases at Queen Elizabeth Hospital, and then go back to Sri Lanka to take up where my father left off. To build a facility for neuromuscular disability, where people with a range of disabilities, currently just left to die, can be helped.’
‘You’re Annie, aren’t you, Sheva?’ Roy held her eyes.
She nodded.
‘I asked you at the masquerade ball, and I’ll ask you again, why the arranged marriage?’
‘I can’t expect you to understand, Roy, but in Sri Lanka, a single professional woman is a lesbian or in some way inadequate as a woman. Marriage legitimatises and permits a woman to a have a career.’
‘That’s so outdated.’
‘That’s subcontinental culture.’ She shrugged. ‘I wanted a man who would support me in my career, and I believed marrying Sunil would accomplish it.’
‘Sunil—’
She raised her hand to silence him. ‘You know some of it from what I told you the night of the ball. Sunil and I grew up together as best friends. His parents and mine were neighbours. We were both only children. The families were close. Sunil’s father owned a gem business. Together they bought a tea plantation when the British left Sri Lanka. My father was a surgeon on the cusp of starting his neuromuscular rehabilitation centre when he died of a heart attack. I have a trust fund and Sunil promised to help me as well.’ She stopped and sighed. ‘I should have listened to you and my friends. It was a foolish decision to think Sunil and I could pick up where we left off six years ago.’
He curled his fingers around hers, wanting to absorb her pain.
‘I hardly knew Sunil when I met him in December,’ she continued. ‘He and his friends seemed to have money to burn. It was a bizarre experience. Sri Lankan families live on an average income of about three hundred dollars a month and yet Sunil and his friends lived the high life. They drove Audis, Chryslers and BMWs, lived in sophisticated gated communities and spent their evenings in five star resorts. I enjoyed their—his company—for a while.’
‘What happened in Sri Lanka, Sheva? Why did you have to change your appearance and your name?’ He reached over to touch her hair, remembering her gorgeous curls.
A tear hovered at the corner of her eye. Sheva blinked it away. ‘I trusted him completely. I realised very soon what a gullible idiot I was.’ She looked at him with the mere glimmer of a smile. ‘I remembered what you said that night.’
‘What I said?’
She nodded. You told me that people change. You advised me to never accept anyone at face value, and that charm usually covers some ulterior motive. How prophetic it turned out to be!’
‘Prophetic? What happened?’
Sheva pursed her lips and her eyes sharpened to flash with anger. ‘I discovered documents in his study. Multiple passports with a variety of names and doctored pictures of Sunil.’ She paused and her hands clenched on the table.
‘Was he involved in something? Drugs? Gun running?’
‘Worse,’ she spat out. ‘Much worse. I also found pictures of girls and other documents.’ She stopped and took a deep breath. ‘They revealed that Sunil, my loving fiancé, was involved in sex trafficking, under the guise of arranging places in Australian universities.’
‘Dear God, Sheva! How –?’
Her laugh was brittle. ‘How did I cope? I fell apart – but only for a few moments. Again, I remembered something you said.’
‘Me?’
‘I told myself I was a professional, an Australian. I didn’t need an arranged marriage. I realised that what I thought was my future all planned out was as ephemeral as a morning mist.’ She paused.
‘Did you confront him?’
‘No,’ she stopped and smiled. ‘I photographed what I found. Then I went to a police officer I trusted with the information. To cut a long story short, I was smuggled out of Sri Lanka hidden in a truck and then a rusty fishing boat. I flew to Sydney via India.’
She looked so fragile. And yet, under it was a strong and independent woman. One who was willing to take on what was probably an international crime syndicate single handed. His heart swelled with admiration for her. He felt a sense of satisfaction that his words had in some small way helped her. But, above this, he was humbled that she would trust him with her secret.
He held her hands in his. The feelings taking root in his heart were new to him. He had never felt this overwhelming need to care for and protect a woman.
‘Now,’ Sheva concluded with a sigh, ‘you know the whole sordid tale, the reason why I have to call myself Sheva and work in Jindabyne, as a country GP.’
***
Sometime, as they talked, Alonso had refilled their mugs with fresh coffee. Roy’s left hand had remained on hers throughout. His fingers wrapped around hers. He hadn’t said a word.
Her back straight and eyes blurred in exhaustion, she looked at Roy across the table.
‘So,’ he said, ‘you are under a witness protection program, and Daniel Cooper is some sort of police undercover operative.’
She nodded. ‘Dan says it should soon be over. I have to remain here until they “clean things up,” in his words. As for the administration at hospital, they think I am still on vacation in Sri Lanka. Even Monica has no idea I am in Australia.’
‘Where’s your mother?’
‘Dan says she is safe, happy and well looked after.’ Her voice quivered, and she blinked away the tears. ‘I am not allowed to call her. Dan says it would be too dangerous. I hate that, but I have to do it for her safety.’
Roy’s voice took on a harsher tone. ‘Do you have to pretend he is your boyfriend?’
‘No, just call him daily morning and evening.’
Roy stood up. He pulled Sheva up with him. ‘Listen to me, Sheva. I think they are using you as bait to flush out whoever this international crime network are.’ He stopped and growled, ‘I don’t like it. It’s a dangerous ploy.’
‘Using me as bait?’
‘Yes. They probably can’t do anything while Sunil and friends are in Sri Lanka. They want them here in Australia, where they can get the local operatives too. So, they stick you out here in Jindabyne. Somehow, they will find a way to leak the information. Getting Sunil and his cronies to follow you here to Jindabyne will mean the authorities can arrest them under Australian jurisdiction.’
She thought about it. It made sense. Dan’s worries about her security in her house. His concern as to the friends she made. Her thoughts flitted to the girls in the photographs.
‘Dan is confident that he has it all under control. My temporary inconvenience is a small price to pay for the lives of young innocent women. I will do anything to bring those thugs to justice.’
‘I think it’s personal for Dan.’
Sheva frowned, ‘What do you mean?’
‘You may be pretending he’s your boyfriend Sheva,’ he tucked a curl behind her ear, ‘I don’t think it is make believe for him. If he’s in love with you—’ He touched her lips with his— ‘I can’t say I blame him.’
Chapter 29
The cria wandered over and nuzzled into him. Roy squatted to scratch her head. The happy humming was relaxing. Yesterday had been a good day for his father, and Roy had used the time to tell him about the new addition to the herd. It had made his father happy.
He had also taken the opportunity to tell him about a couple of other current projects. It had taken time, but his father had managed to stutter out words—semi-sentences of advice. Exhausted, he had fallen asleep soon after. Roy lived for moments like this. Times when he saw glimpses of what his father used to be. Evidence that his brilliant mind was still functioning inside his broken body.
The rumble of the quadbike heralded the arrival of Rodrigo. ‘Hey, Boss. She’s coming along real good. Sheva sure loves you.’
Roy continued to stroke the cria.
Sheva, the woman with ebony eyes that sparkled with humour and clouded in pain. Pain he wanted to absorb, heal. Black hair softer than the finest alpaca fleece. He smiled, imagining the response if he admitted that to her.
Thoughts of Sheva filled his waking hours, and invaded his dreams. His body stirred at the memory of her snuggled into him on the mountain walk. He dragged his thoughts back.
‘There are a couple of the other hembras pregnant, boss. Should be a good year for both fleece and breeding.’
Roy nodded. ‘All thanks to you, Rodrigo. You’ve done an amazing job, especially given the dry conditions. I’ve not been much use, have I?’ Roy watched as the cria ambled back to her mum. ‘Do you need me to hire someone to help in the shearing?’
Rodrigo’s ample frame shook with laughter. ‘Maria and I are doing fine, boss. I’ve herded in a farm with over one hundred animals back in Chile. Your alpaca are like caring for family. As for water, the bore water you provided is just fine for these ones.’ He clapped his hands. ‘Here, Sophia, Anna.’ Two of the alpaca sauntered over to him. He stroked their necks. ‘You go make some big money, Boss. And take some time to play, okay?’ He jumped on his quadbike. ‘I need to work on some of the fences. Need to keep the ‘roos out.’
Roy stayed in his crouched position. He wanted Sheva and not just for her body or passion. He wanted her mind and soul. He needed to know her completely, but that required commitment and promises for a future. He could never offer her that. He dropped his head in his hands.
He shuddered at the thought of what the future held for him.
He felt a soft nudge on his cheek. The cria was back. Her forehead bumping his face. He looked into the long lashed black eyes. ‘Are you trying to tell me something, Sheva baby? Should I go to her and let her decide?’
The cria winked at him. He laughed and rubbed her head. ‘Right. Thanks for the wise advice.’
He stood up and walked back to the house.
Roy pulled his mobile out. She should be almost done at the clinic.
Sheva answered on the second ring. ‘Good evening, Roy. I hope my namesake is doing well.’
‘She’s doing just dandy. I’ve just left her feeding with her mum. I’m done for the day. Do you want to have dinner together? Samson was fixing a salmon casserole when I left the house. I’ll pack some of it and drive over.’
The usual moment of hesitation.
‘Sheva, it’s me, I’m not the enemy.’
‘I know, Roy. I guess I’m not used to trusting people anymore.’ She paused. ‘Constant vigilance makes for a lonely existence. It would be nice to see you.’
‘Good, I’ll
drive over there soon.’
‘I’ve got some veggie fried rice and chocolate biscuit pudding to contribute to dinner. I think you’ll love the biscuit pudding. Another of my grandmother’s recipes.’
‘Full of aphrodisiacs, I hope,’ he joked. He loved hearing her laugh. ‘I’ll see you in thirty minutes, Sheva.’
***
The soft strains of ‘Eine Kleine Nachtmusik’ drifted through the room.
They had so much in common. The love of classical music: especially Mozart. They both enjoyed detective thrillers—Rankin, Daniel Silva and Connelly. Sheva and Roy both felt a deep need to help those less advantaged than they were.
He couldn’t offer her commitment, but what he had was the financial means to help her dreams come true. ‘Sheva—’ he played with the edge of her bob— ‘I have a proposition for you.’
‘What sort?’ She raised her eyebrows.
‘A business one—a philanthropic one. My firm contributes to a number of charities. I would like to make a contribution towards the rehabilitation centre you want to build in Sri Lanka. Maybe, pay to have the building put up.’
‘You’ll do that for me?’ She flung herself across the lounge and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Thank you. Thank you. That is—is so wonderful. If I have the building, my trust fund will do for the equipment.’’
Roy hugged her back.
The hug turned into a caress.
He held her face cupped in his palm and teased his lips over hers. Her breath caught on a sob as she opened her lips to him. Their coming together was tender, passionate—and hungry. Sheva fisted her hands on his shirtfront. Roy drew her onto his lap. His hands in her hair and on her body. He breathed her in: her perfume and something more subtle: the scent of desire. She was Annie, she was Sheva — she was all he had dreamed of on his lonely bed every night.
‘Sheva,’ he whispered against her lips. ‘I want you, honey.’ He trailed his lips down her cheek. He kissed the erratic pulse beat in the hollow of her neck. ‘I know you want me too. Let me love you. Let me comfort you for a while.’
Snowy Summer Page 17