The Secrets that Lie Within (Taylor's Bend, #1)

by Elisabeth Rose

  She said, ‘If you think you love me, how could you think my daughter was a murderer when I repeatedly told you she wasn’t?’

  She may as well have thrown a bucket of cold water. Rupe sat back, retreated into his uniform, his role of policeman.

  ‘There’s no connection between those two statements. Even Georgia said it. She understood my position.’

  ‘Better than I do?’ Dark blue eyes, hard as granite, bored into his.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I understand that loving involves trust.’

  ‘I don’t love Georgia.’

  She shook her head, frustrated. Was he as obtuse as she clearly thought he was? Why couldn’t she see his position? ‘But I do and that means you should trust me where she’s concerned. I know her.’

  Trust. He should have known that was the basic problem. Contorted and confused reasoning, but it was the ability to trust and be trusted in return by a loved one.

  ‘You knew your husband, Abbie. And loved him. Trusted him.’ He stared her straight in the eye when he said that, knowing it would hurt, but knowing she had to see the connection. ‘People tell lies, people cheat, people deceive each other, even those they love most. It’s what people do. It’s self-preservation.’

  She licked her lips. He’d hit a nerve. Something she hadn’t told him. A secret. A deception of her own.

  ‘Do you?’ she said. Attack, the best form of defence. ‘Did you cheat on your wife?’

  ‘Never. From the moment I laid eyes on her it was all over.’

  ‘What if we’d met and she was still alive?’

  ‘I’ve known you for nearly a year, Abbie. I’m not claiming love at first sight here although I always thought you were attractive. What I’m saying is this time circumstances are very different. We’ve come to know each other slowly and I’ve gradually realised that what was originally liking and attraction turned to stronger attraction, and is now love. It’s a quieter feeling but just as genuine and just as deep and lasting. I’m older now, more experienced, I’ve seen more of life.’ He paused, nearly added ‘and death’ but didn’t. ‘I would never have cheated on Benita and I wouldn’t cheat on you.’

  ‘You don’t know me very well,’ she said but it wasn’t defiant, it was more curious. ‘How can you know that?’

  ‘Recently I’ve seen quite a bit of you.’ He risked a smile.

  ‘Are you trusting your gut this time?’ Another little jab.

  ‘Yes, and my observations and my feelings and my intellectual assessment and everything else at my disposal. Most of all, my feelings. Love isn’t calculating, I can’t help falling in love with you. I can’t put this back in a box and pretend it’s not there.’

  ‘Rupe, I’m sorry … it’s just too soon, too much all at once.’ She covered her face in her hands but he knew better than to crowd her.

  ‘I know.’ He stood abruptly and began clearing the table. ‘You do what you need to. I’m here if you need help.’

  ‘Thank you. Let me do the dishes.’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine.’ He turned on the taps and squirted detergent into the sink, back turned so as not to prolong the humiliation and embarrassment. He hadn’t felt such a fool since he was fourteen and Karen Thwaite had laughed at him after he kissed her and said he really liked her. This was how Ben must feel in regard to Georgia.

  He sensed her standing at the table for a few moments before the soft scuffing of shoes on carpet meant she’d gone. He continued washing and stacking the plates on automatic.

  What a fool he was, blurting all that out when she was still in a state of shock from the round of horrors. Such a gigantic idiot. He swore under his breath and yanked the plug from the suds with such violence dirty, soapy water splashed over his shirt and pants.

  Running through his menu of curses, he went to change.

  ***

  Rupe’s declaration astounded Abbie. She knew he was attracted to her but not the depth of that attraction. How could she cope with that, the responsibility of it, along with everything else? How could he do that to her?

  She had to leave now, today, no doubt about it. Maybe she could go to Marlene’s for a day or two. Sally Groves had been delighted when Abbie rang to enquire about renting her house but it wouldn’t be available for another three weeks.

  A phone call confirmed her decision. Yes she could stay with Marlene and Henk as long as she liked, and yes Marlene would be very happy to drive her over to Wagga to pick up a hire car this morning. They could have lunch and do some shopping. Have a girls’ day out and take Abbie’s mind off the tragedies she’d endured. And they should visit poor Rita in hospital.

  Abbie went to tell Rupe.

  She hovered in the doorway to the office while he completed a phone call. When he put the receiver down he turned to her.

  ‘Good news for a change.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘They caught the prowler.’

  ‘Who was it?’ She’d forgotten about the prowler.

  ‘A couple of young blokes from Willoughby. Someone caught them in the act of slashing car tyres.’

  ‘Thank goodness.’

  ‘Apparently it was some game they had going where they dared each other to do things and got points for it.’

  ‘That’s sick.’

  He nodded. ‘It could have escalated to harming animals and even people.’

  ‘Were they responsible for the possum?’

  ‘Possibly. We’ll find out when they’re interrogated.’

  Abbie shuddered. ‘What makes people do those things?’

  Rupe sighed. ‘Boredom? Too many violent computer games? Family violence. Mental issues. Any number of things, I guess.’

  ‘I spoke to Marlene. I can stay with her and Henk until Sally and Bill move out.’

  He didn’t react.

  ‘Can I please leave my art gear here until I go to the Groves’ house?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Thanks. We’re going to Wagga today to collect my hire car and visit Rita.’

  ‘Let me know how she is.’

  ‘I will.’

  He sat unmoving, waiting for her to speak? To leave?

  ‘I’m sorry, Rupe.’

  ‘Nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who’s sorry. I spoke out of turn,’ he said briskly.

  Abbie clamped her lips together.

  The phone shrilled and he picked it up with a glance her way. She retreated to her bedroom to pack.

  ***

  Marlene talked nonstop all the way to Wagga, which suited Abbie because it meant she didn’t need to say much beyond answer the occasional question or offer a brief comment or two.

  To her credit, Marlene didn’t interrogate her about her ex-husband or her past but was more interested in the news about the prowlers and whether they rather than Aaron might be responsible for bashing Rita. She was also excited about the pregnancy of her daughter-in-law in Geelong.

  ‘They’d given up hope, really,’ she said. ‘Janey is thirty-nine and had resigned herself to never being a mother.’

  ‘What exciting news for them. And you,’ Abbie said.

  ‘It is. Women have their babies much later these days, don’t they? By the time I was thirty I had one at school, a baby and a toddler.’

  ‘I had my daughter young too.’

  ‘No grandchildren?’

  ‘Not yet.’ True. At least that piece of information was still secret.

  ‘It certainly leaves plenty of time to enjoy our lives while we’re still relatively young. Henk wants to go on one of those European river cruises they advertise on TV all the time.’

  ‘You should go.’

  ‘It’s tempting. Have you been overseas?’

  ‘I’ve been to Thailand and I went to New York years ago.’ With Callum when he attended a conference. ‘I’ve always wanted to go back.’

  ‘We went to Thailand but a while ago now.’

  ‘I’d love to go to Amsterdam, Paris and London. For the art
galleries.’

  ‘Nothing stopping you, is there?’

  ‘How about money?’ Not really an issue, more of an excuse.

  Marlene ignored that minor impediment. ‘It’d do you good to get right away, Abbie. Why not go now? You can scrape up the money, I’m sure. You can get good deals on airfares if you look. Anyway, it’d be a tax write-off, wouldn’t it?’

  Abbie laughed. ‘You make it sound easy.’

  ‘It is, if you want to do it.’ Marlene tossed her a grin then refocused on the road ahead. ‘We can stop in at the travel agent this afternoon.’

  For the remainder of the journey that idea grew in Abbie’s mind like bamboo in the tropics. Get right away, immerse herself in art and paintings. Perhaps try a different style. Sketching, maybe. People.

  At the hospital a nurse pointed them to Rita’s room but warned them she wasn’t up to a long visit and may not recognise them.

  ‘She’s very weak, poor dear,’ she said. ‘But it’s nice for her to have some visitors.’

  ‘Have any relatives been?’ asked Abbie.

  ‘A daughter, but she had to go back to Sydney.’

  Marlene made a snorting noise beside her as they headed for the room. ‘Some daughter.’

  ‘It’s sad when families break down.’

  ‘Rita’s her mother, for heaven’s sake.’

  Would Georgia have run to her bedside in the same circumstances, say, a year ago? Abbie wouldn’t like to guess.

  Rita was almost unrecognisable, a shrunken, pale, very fragile version of her former self with a nasty multicoloured bruise on her cheek and wisps of grey hair peeking out from the bandage on her head. Sunken eyes peered up at them with no hint of recognition.

  Abbie stood close to the bed. ‘Hello Rita, it’s Abbie. From next door.’

  Nothing.

  Marlene stepped forward. ‘Hello Rita. How are you? Do you need anything?’

  One thin, bony hand lifted slightly from its position on the bedcover. ‘Drink,’ she said hoarsely.

  Marlene took the glass from the bedside table and held the straw to Rita’s lips. After a few sips she rested her head back against the pillow, eyes closed. Abbie and Marlene waited but it seemed Rita was asleep.

  At the nursing station, a nurse told them Rita would be moved to a nursing care home when she was able to leave the hospital.

  ‘When will that be?’

  ‘Not for a while yet. Doctor is monitoring her head injury.’

  ‘Will she survive this?’ asked Abbie. ‘She looks so frail and she was such a tough old lady.’

  ‘She’s elderly and she had a very hard blow to the head. I’m sorry, there’s really no telling how she’ll recover but she’ll be well cared for here.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  On the way to the car park Abbie said, ‘I can’t believe Rita would end up this way. She must hate being in hospital.’

  ‘I doubt she knows where she is,’ said Marlene. ‘Which is just as well, probably.’

  ‘It’s very sad. She’d want to finish her life at home.’

  ‘Yes, but it’s not your problem. You have enough worries of your own and your own life to live, Abbie. Let’s see that travel agent then have lunch.’

  ***

  Marlene and Henk were kind, generous and easy company but the house was small and Abbie felt very much a visitor where she hadn’t at Rupe’s, which was odd considering she knew Marlene far better. Must be to do with the spaciousness of the old police quarters and the fact Rupe was working whereas Henk was retired and Marlene had always been at home, first bringing up the four children, then filling her days with school committees and a never-ending round of volunteer work. Abbie had the vague feeling she was another of her charitable efforts but dismissed that as uncharitable on her part.

  At the store, collecting her mail, she was treated to a barrage of sympathy from first Laurie and then Dot, hailed from the backroom to join in. Neither showed any hint of resentment that she hadn’t shared her past with them but they must know all the details. A glimpse at a weekend newspaper or TV news bulletin would see to that.

  ‘How are you holding up, love? You know if you need help you only have to ask.’ Laurie fixed her with a stern eye. That morning someone had called from the police counselling service and said the same thing. She replied with the same words she gave Laurie.

  ‘Thanks very much but Marlene and Henk are taking good care of me,’ said Abbie.

  ‘I’m sure they are. And what about Rita?’ said Dot with a huge sigh and shake of the head. ‘She won’t be going home, that’s for sure.’

  ‘No, into a nursing home from hospital, apparently,’ said Abbie. ‘She looked so different when Marlene and I saw her. Nothing like the Rita I know.’

  ‘Her daughters are selling the property,’ said Dot. ‘They’d be after the money, no doubt.’

  ‘Nursing homes are expensive, they may need to,’ said Abbie but wasn’t sure that’s what Dot was implying.

  ‘Word is you’ll be building a new house,’ said Laurie, moving along. ‘Good idea. Get rid of the bad old memories. Start fresh.’

  ‘You can have it exactly how you want it, design your own house,’ said Dot. ‘It’s a nice block you’ve got there. Get a good view if you go up the hill a bit. I always thought that house was in the wrong spot. In the old days they built on the flat but now you don’t have to.’

  Abbie smiled. ‘You could be right.’ She paused, considering Dot’s words. ‘I never thought about designing my new house myself. It’s all been a bit of a blur this last week.’

  ‘It would be.’ Two grey heads nodded sagely.

  ‘Here’s Rupe,’ said Laurie as the door opened. ‘He’ll be looking for you, I reckon.’

  ‘What? Why?’ Here she was flushing like a thirteen-year-old when her crush walked in.

  ‘G’day, everyone,’ he said but he barely glanced at Dot and Laurie, before fixing on Abbie. ‘I was on my way to see you.’

  ‘See? I’ll fetch your letters, love.’ Cackling, Laurie went into the backroom.

  Rupe grinned and she had to smile. ‘Your house is no longer a crime scene so you can go in and get whatever you want.’

  ‘Oh.’ Any traces of red cheeks faded rapidly at the thought of entering that house. ‘I’m not sure …’

  ‘There’s no rush.’

  ‘I should I suppose. There are books, CDs, papers … things like that.’ Where could they go? She’d have to move her furniture into one of the sheds eventually. Make sure it was secure and weatherproof. The garage? Yet another thing to think about.

  ‘You can store anything at my place,’ said Rupe.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘We have plenty of cardboard boxes if you need them,’ said Dot.

  ‘That’d be handy.’ Rupe smiled at her then back to Abbie. ‘I can come with you if you like. Extra pair of hands. Moral support. Whatever.’

  ‘Never turn down an offer like that,’ said Laurie. He dumped a bundle of mail on the counter.

  ‘Thanks.’ Abbie picked up the letters and slid them into her carry bag. ‘See you later Dot, Laurie.’

  Rupe followed her to the door and held it open. She stepped onto the footpath and he was beside her. Waiting for an answer, waiting for a cue … waiting.

  ‘Rupe …’

  ‘Sorry.’ He turned and strode away in the direction of the police station.

  She stared after him. What had she been about to say? She didn’t exactly know but he seemed to. He was almost at the intersection with Donald Street. If she ran after him she’d look a complete idiot and what would she say when she caught him?

  What was wrong with her?

  Back at Marlene’s, she opened her mail while Henk made coffee on his espresso machine. He was very proud of this new acquisition. According to Marlene, coffee had become his new obsession and even involved ordering beans from a specialty shop in Sydney. He did produce a very good result, however, although being watched for a reaction whi
le taking the first sip was still disconcerting.

  ‘Do you know any architects, Henk?’

  ‘I do. The daughter of a chap I play golf with. She has an office in Wagga. I’ll get hold of her details for you. Is this for your house?’

  ‘Yes. Dot thought I should design it myself.’

  ‘Good idea. You know what you want better than anyone else.’

  She did and Dot’s idea about moving up the hill a bit was good too. She could build a separate studio more or less where the house was now because the light was so good, and the house could be split level. With a balcony. And a self-contained flat for Georgia and the baby. Or visitors.

  Mind buzzing, she drained her coffee, her fingers itching for a pencil and her sketchpad.

  All her art gear was at Rupe’s.

  ***

  Rupe walked back to the station fuming. His anger wasn’t directed at Abbie particularly, though she had been rude, he was angry at himself for pushing when he knew he needed to back off and let her get her feet back on the ground. He didn’t want to create tension. She’d made her decision and he respected it, which was why he’d taken the steps he had. There was no reason why they couldn’t be civil in the interim and she did need a measure of care.

  It might take a while. It would take a while. How would she react if he suggested she see someone? Badly, probably, and he’d given her the pamphlets listing the available health services so it was up to her. Someone from the support team should be calling to check on her soon.

  He was sitting at the kitchen table finishing his minestrone soup and toast for lunch, reading the paper, when Abbie walked past the window heading for the back door which was open.

  ‘Rupe?’ she called.

  ‘Come in.’ He remained seated, casually spooning up soup, annoyed that his hand shook.

  She stopped in the doorway. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean to disturb you. I just want to collect my sketchbook and pencils.’

  ‘That’s fine. Come and go as you like.’

  ‘I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be rude, I just …’

  He stood up and took the bowl, plate and spoon to the sink. ‘It’s my fault. I’ll keep out of your way.’

  ‘Please don’t be like this.’

  ‘Like what? I thought I was being a friend, offering help, but you obviously don’t want my help.’