Country At Heart

by Mandy Magro

  Tony smiled. ‘He sure is.’ He winked mischievously. ‘Just like his dad.’

  Summer raised her glass, grinning. ‘I’ll vouch for that!’

  Their plates empty, Summer reached across to grab Tony’s so she could pack them into the dishwasher. Tony stopped her from getting up from the table by lightly touching her hand. ‘Summer, I was wondering if it would be all right if I spoke to you about—’ Tony cleared his throat. ‘About the night of the accident.’

  Summer placed her other hand over his. ‘Of course, I’m all ears.’

  Tony sat back and smiled sadly. ‘Thank you. But before we start, I think you better pour us both another glass of wine. In fact, just bring the bottle to the table – I might need it.’

  Happy to do anything to help Tony relax, Summer did as he asked. Then, sitting down beside him, she waited for him to begin.

  Tony took a sip of wine, then another, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously in his throat. He closed his eyes for a few moments, shaking his head, a lone tear squeezing out of the corner and rolling down his cheek. After a few deep breaths he slowly opened them and held Summer’s gaze. ‘I’d organised a really romantic Valentine’s dinner at Patty’s favourite restaurant on the beachfront. I decided to ride the motorbike there because Patty loved being on the back of the bike. She reckoned it was a good excuse to cuddle up to me.’ He smiled, recalling the memory. ‘I didn’t tell her where we were going and she was so excited when we got there. She hugged me so tightly she almost bloody well choked me.’ Chuckling, his eyes filled with tears, but he blinked them back. ‘We had a beautiful dinner and shared a bottle of red wine – well, she drank most of it, because I was driving us home.’ Tony stopped, staring off into space, his body hunching forwards, the tears now running down his cheeks.

  Summer reached out and gently placed her hand on his back. ‘Take your time, Tony. There’s no rush, and if you want to stop, we can always talk about it another time.’

  Tony bit his bottom lip to stop it trembling and slowly shook his head from side to side. ‘No, I’m determined to do this. I have to let the pain out before it destroys me. And I owe it to Dean, Kimmy and Max to get over this.’ He sucked in a deep breath, at the same time squaring his shoulders.

  ‘We left the restaurant around eleven and were on our way home, when a road train full of cattle ran a stop sign.’ His haunted eyes widened, and his voice became strangled. ‘I swear, it’s like it came out of nowhere. And before I knew it, we were heading straight for it. So I did all I could do, I tried to lay the bike down so we would at least have some chance of survival by sliding underneath it.’ His face contorted in pain. ‘Her screams of terror, Summer, I can still hear them. They haunt me every time I close my eyes.’ A wail escaped him as followed by deep gut-wrenching sobs. He began hyperventilating, his quivering hands clutching at the edge of the table as if he was going to fall over, even though he was still seated.

  Summer battled to keep it together, her throat so thick with emotion it was as though someone was choking her, and as much as she wanted to jump up and hug Tony, she let him continue on in his own time. She shoved her hands beneath her legs in a bid to stay put.

  Tony lifted his tortured eyes to hers. ‘She was … decapitated … Summer. My … beautiful … wife … was—’ His sobs filled the room, his words almost indecipherable as hot torrents of grief poured out of him. It became impossible for him to speak, as the dam he had so fiercely walled up broke its banks. Flopping forward onto the table, he rested his head on his arms and wept, his howls of despair agony to Summer’s ears. She stood and rubbed his back, just so he knew she was there for him. No wonder he hadn’t been able to talk about it. This was beyond anything she could ever imagine.

  Gradually, Tony’s sobs became softer, his breathing more natural. He slowly sat up, his eyes puffy and red raw. Summer sat down beside him, her hand resting on his jiggling left leg. He clasped and unclasped his hands on the table, staring at them like they were foreign.

  ‘I’d blacked out somewhere between the bike sliding beneath the truck and hitting the pole. I was in pretty bad shape.’ Halting, he grabbed his glass of wine and sculled it, and then looked to the ceiling, as if talking to God. ‘Why did it have to happen to her? Why wasn’t it me who died that night?’ He squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to block out a memory.

  ‘Hysterical screaming is what brought me too again. And I tried to get up to find Patty, but I couldn’t move – even my arms were paralysed. I called out to her, begged for someone to tell me if she was okay. A woman knelt down beside me, and placed her hand on my cheek, and she was saying something to me but I didn’t want to hear it. I turned my head to the – to the other side, desperate to find Patty, and then I saw her body.’ His jaw clenched. ‘I’ve fought at war, and seen many horrendous sights that would bring a grown man to his knees, but never in my life had I seen something so horrific that I wanted to stick my hand into my chest and rip out my beating heart … And the worse thing was, I didn’t even get to say goodbye to her.’ He began sobbing once more, burying his head in his hands.

  Summer pulled her chair over beside his, and took him into her arms, her own tears falling. ‘Oh, Tony, I can’t even begin to understand the heartache you must feel. I’m so very sorry you’ve had to go through such a devastating loss. Just know I’m here for you, okay?’

  Tony embraced her tightly. ‘Thank you, Summer.’

  After a few minutes of quiet comfort he pulled back, wiping his red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks with a handkerchief he pulled from his pocket. ‘You are the miracle I’ve been waiting for. I knew Patty would send me someone I was comfortable talking to.’ He smiled, the action contradicting the anguish written across his face. ‘I’m so happy Dean has found an amazing woman like you to love him. And I’d be so very proud to have you as my daughter-in-law one day, hopefully sooner rather than later.’

  Summer sniffled and smiled through her tears. ‘Thank you, Tony, that means so much. I love Dean with all my heart, and I’d be very proud to be able to call you my father-in-law one day too.’ She leant in and whispered, a cheeky smile on her lips, ‘I think we need to include Dean in on this little plan to become in-laws, though.’

  Tony clapped his hands together, loudly enough to make Summer jump. ‘Oh, don’t you worry. I reckon it’s not going to be long before he proposes. I’ve never seen my boy like this with a woman. He’s head over heels in love with you, Miss Milton.’

  CHAPTER

  22

  The whirr of a mower whizzing past her bedroom window pulled Summer from her deep sleep. For a few moments she balanced in the ethereal land between dreaming and reality before blinking open her eyes. She rolled over, moaning, and glanced at her bedside clock. It was dead on eight – so much for sleeping in. Old Harry Wincklesteen next door just couldn’t help himself, even on a Sunday, waking the neighbours up at ungodly hours because he had decided to blow the leaves off his front yard. And nobody complained to him, because he was a kind old soul who was always too ready to help anyone in need.

  She clutched her throbbing head, feeling like death warmed up after not having gotten to bed until three. She and Tony had sat up half the night while he’d reminisced about days gone by. Not that she’d minded. She’d loved hearing about Dean’s life as he was growing up and was thrilled Tony had finally opened up about the accident, honoured it had been her, of all people, he’d chosen to reveal his demons to.

  Dragging her weary body from bed, Summer slid on her fluffy pink slippers, grimacing as she caught her reflection in the mirror. Her hair looked like she’d been electrified, so she quickly ran a brush through it and tied it up in a ponytail. She wandered down the hallway and towards the kitchen, Fonzie scurrying to her from his bed in the lounge room along the way. She picked him up and gave him a cuddle, at the same time giggling at Phillip’s high-pitched singing echoing around the house. Popping Fonzie back down on the floor she pointed to the cat door in the laundry, reminding
him of his toilet duties. He obeyed, his little frame shooting through the door like a can falling out of a vending machine.

  Wandering into the lively kitchen she was met with the sight of Fiona dancing around with an egg flip in her hand while Phillip sang into a saltshaker. Summer burst out laughing at the sight of them, Fiona sporting egg down the front of her and Phillip with a tea towel tied to his head. Bailey was leaning against the kitchen bench, a huge smile on his face. He acknowledged Summer with a wave and then rolled his eyes as he looked at Fiona.

  ‘Are you two ever normal?’ Summer said, laughing. ‘Talk about crazy twins.’

  Bailey chuckled. ‘Tell me about it. I only just arrived to find these two dancing around the kitchen. Anyone would think they’ve lost their bloody marbles.’

  Phillip turned around and bent over, talking to her upside-down through his legs. ‘What do you mean, sweetie? We’re always normal.’

  Fiona did the same, a goofy smile on her lips. ‘Yup, he’s right, I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

  The four of them burst into laughter, to the point where they were all sitting on the floor clutching their bellies. After a few mirthful minutes they finally gained some control and Phillip ordered them – in a very bad German accent – to be seated while he dished up breakfast.

  Bailey placed a cup of coffee in front of Summer. ‘Here you go, Sums. You look like you could use this.’

  One whiff of the coffee made Summer want to gag, but she smiled through it. Bailey was always so thoughtful. ‘Thanks.’

  He dragged a chair out, spun it back to front, and sat down opposite her, his forearms resting on the chair back. ‘I kicked Marcus out this morning.’ His face was solemn, the light-hearted energy of the room changing to one of sombreness. Even Phillip’s humming had stopped.

  ‘Oh?’ she said, a little too matter-of-factly. Suddenly dry-mouthed with the mention of Marcus, she reluctantly took a sip from her coffee, glancing towards Fiona and then back at Bailey, doing her very best to stop her lips from quivering by tensing them.

  ‘Why, what the hell’s happened?’ Fiona piped up, her brows scrunched together.

  Her pulse quickening, Summer raised her eyebrows as she took another sip of stomach-turning coffee. ‘Yeah, fill us in.’

  Bailey ummed and ahhed, as if what he was about to say was impossible.

  Summer threw her hands up in the air. ‘Oh, for fuck’s sake! Will you just tell us why you kicked him out?’

  ‘Well, last night, Marcus and I went out after work for a few drinks, and me being me, I tried to play cupid and set him up with a long-time friend of mine, Tasha. They seemed to get on like a house on fire and then at the end of the night, Marcus invited Tasha back to our place for a coffee. She was a bit apprehensive because she’s not the kind of chick to sleep around, especially when she’s only just met a guy.’ He shook his head. ‘And stupid me, I told her it’d be fine.’ He stopped for a few seconds, blowing air through his teeth. ‘Anyway, I left them to it when we got home, and then I get up early this morning for my jog and Tasha wanders out of Marcus’s bedroom in tears, telling me that all she remembered was having her coffee. She then tells me she reckons he drugged her.’

  Summer gasped, covering her open mouth with her hand. She glanced at Fiona, who appeared equally shaken. This was all too familiar. The room began to spin, and Summer fought the urge to throw up. Her chest suddenly feeling tight, she struggled to take a decent breath. Silently, she begged herself to remain calm, not wanting Bailey and Phillip to pick up that there was more than met the eye when it came to her and Marcus.

  Bailey bobbed his head like a dashboard figurine. ‘I know, right, it’s a bloody shock. So then Marcus walks out of the bedroom in his boxers, asking what all the commotion is about and Tasha lashes out at him, slapping him in the face and calling him a rapist. And Marcus responds by telling her she shouldn’t have drunk so much because then she might remember she’d practically thrown herself at him.’

  Bailey sat back in his chair, folding his hands behind his head. ‘I didn’t know what to do, or who to believe, but I’ve known Tasha since I was a whippersnapper, and she’s a decent woman from a very religious family. Her father’s the bloody minister of the local church here, for Christ’s sake, so I felt I had to trust what she was saying. And the other thing that sent out warning signals was that Tasha hardly drinks, so what Marcus was saying about her being drunk didn’t make any sense to me. So, I told Marcus to pack his shit and fuck off. He wasn’t happy about it, and started threatening me with everything under the sun. I saw a very different side of him. It only took him ten minutes to pack his stuff into garbage bags and then he was gone, swearing at the top of his lungs at Tasha and me as he drove off.

  ‘Once he’d left I had a strange urge to search through the bin, which I did, and right down the bottom, buried in an old tissue box, I found this.’ Grabbing a napkin from the table, Bailey carefully reached in his pocket and pulled out a small glass bottle, making sure to wrap it in in such a way to stop fingerprints from being added or rubbed off before passing it to Summer.

  She stared at it, noticing there was nothing written on it and that it was basically empty, except for a little drop of liquid in the bottom. She went to speak but Phillip saved her – thankfully, because she was sure her voice would have been a squeak. Fiona reached beneath the table and gave her knee a squeeze.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, I know this is a dreadful story, but breakfast is going to be ruined if we don’t start tucking in. We can talk about it while we eat,’ Phillip said quietly as he began placing plates of Eggs Benedict and smoked salmon in front of them.

  Bailey tucked into his food, talking between bites. ‘I’m taking the bottle to a friend of mine at the hospital this morning. He’s going to test it to see what was in it, and I’m guessing he’s going to find something that’ll get Marcus in a shitload of trouble, that is, if I can talk Tasha into going to the police. I tried to take her in for a statement this morning but she bluntly refused, saying her father would be disgusted in her. You see, she was still a virgin – never been naked with a man in her life, until Marcus.’

  Summer looked down at the food, her stomach churning. Dropping the bottle on the table, she jumped up, her chair flying out behind her, and bolted for the toilet, only just making it in time. Hunched on the floor, her arms around the bowl, she continued to throw up until her sides ached. Then, defeated, she sat huddled on the floor, her body shaking as she wept. If I had gone to the police I might have been able to save Tasha from going through the same thing. It’s all my fault.

  A knock at the door broke her train of thought. ‘Sums, are you okay, matey?’

  ‘Not really, Fi, I feel really ill.’ Her voice sounded so small.

  The door opened, and Fiona crouched down beside her. ‘It’s come as a huge shock to me too. Bloody Marcus, he needs to be stopped. I had a bad feeling when I overheard you and him that day at the holiday house. I should have talked you into going to the police then and there.’ She placed a hand on Summer’s back. ‘Come on, let me help you up and we’ll get you to bed, hey? You’re really pale.’

  Her arm over Fiona’s shoulder, Summer hobbled down the hallway to her bedroom. Climbing back under her sheets, she wiped the sweat from her brow. ‘Thanks, Fi.’

  Fiona sat beside her on the bed. ‘Are you going to go to the police about him now, Sums? Maybe you and Tasha can go together – and I’ll come with you too.’

  ‘Oh, Fi, I’m terrified about going to the police; it’s not the nicest thing to have to talk about. And even though I believe Marcus should pay for what he’s done, it’s going to affect so many people’s lives.’

  ‘I know it’ll be scary, but I’m afraid it’s just something you’ve got to do, for your sake, for Tasha’s sake, and to save more women from having it done to them.’

  Summer nodded. ‘I know I have to, but can we just wait to see what Bailey comes back with after his mate has tested that
bottle?’

  ‘Sure … and just so you know, I’ll be with you every step of the way.’ Fiona placed her hand over Summer’s. ‘I’m really worried about you, Sums. You’ve been feeling off for a little while now. I know this morning’s news has upset you, as it has me, but do you think something else might be going on?’

  Summer screwed her face up. ‘I think I’m just really tired, that’s all. And it was a big shock hearing what Marcus might be capable of.’

  ‘I’m not sure that’s all it is.’ Fiona sighed. ‘Yes, you’ve been really tired, but the smell of food has been making you nauseous and you’re getting dizzy spells all the time. I know this might be a shot in the dark, but when was your last period?’

  ‘Um …’ Summer held her hand up, counting back the weeks, the panic rising as she realised she hadn’t had a period since uni. How could she have missed that? She sat bolt upright, a wave of sickness washing over her once more. She could hear the blood pounding in her ears as she stifled a whimper. ‘Oh my fucking god, Fi. I’ve missed a period.’ Terror gripped hold of her like tight fists. What if – God forbid – she was pregnant to Marcus?

  Fiona smiled. ‘I know you’re not really ready for kids yet, but it’s not the end of the world if you are, I mean, you and Dean are made for each other.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘I’ve got a spare pregnancy test in my room – Bailey and I had a bit of a scare last week when my period was late and I bought a three pack.’ She jumped up from the bed. ‘I’ll go grab it.’

  Summer felt her limbs go numb with absolute fear as she watched Fiona disappear out of her room. Fiona had obviously not thought of the fact she could be pregnant to Marcus. So this was what Dorothy was speaking of, the bumpy road she was going to find herself on. This was more than fucking bumpy; this was a road filled with potholes that were ten-feet deep. She wanted to burst into tears but the shock of it all made crying impossible. She sat frozen, staring out her window, her mind racing. She might be pregnant, and if she was, she had no idea who the father was. And in that case, how was she going to tell Dean she had lied to him on New Year’s Eve? She couldn’t put Dean through that. And she couldn’t have an abortion, especially after seeing the anguish that decision had put her mum through. What a fucking mess.