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

by Elisabeth Rose

  ‘You are helping, Rupe. You’ve helped me the whole way through this thing.’ Her fingers twined themselves around each other.

  He turned to face her. ‘But you’re worried I’m going to tell you I love you again. Is that it? Because if it is, I won’t. I shouldn’t have said it in the first place.’

  ‘It’s okay. I didn’t mind.’

  ‘Right.’ And that summed it up very nicely. She didn’t mind one way or the other because her heart wasn’t tangled in knots.

  She stared at him. Her hair had grown a little, making her head shine with a soft golden light. Beautiful. She was staggeringly beautiful. Fragile and taut with nerves. Confused and adrift. He desperately wanted to hold her, protect her. He swallowed.

  ‘I’m thinking of going away,’ she said.

  He breathed in, long and slow. She had every right to make that decision, just as he did.

  ‘When? I thought you were staying.’

  ‘I am.’ His tone must have betrayed something because a little smile appeared briefly. ‘Marlene suggested I go away for a while. She took me to see her travel agent.’

  ‘Where would you go?’

  ‘Europe.’

  He nodded. ‘Makes sense.’

  ‘I’m not sure I want to go into their winter.’

  ‘White Christmas?’

  ‘Not by myself.’

  ‘No, that’d be a bit grim.’

  ‘Then Georgia’s baby will be coming along in March.’

  ‘You could go to Asia, or up north to Cairns or the Whitsundays.’ But come back. Always come back, even if not to him.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Perth or Broome?’

  ‘I haven’t decided if I’ll go anywhere. I have all the house stuff to take care of. Dot said I should design my new house myself and site it up the hill a bit.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  ‘I thought so, that’s why I came round for my sketchpad.’

  Rupe glanced at the kitchen wall clock. ‘Sorry, but I have to go. Stay as long as you like, Abbie.’

  ‘Thanks.’ This time she gave him a proper smile.

  With a much lighter heart, he drove out to talk to Mal Roberts about his broken fences and the complaints of his neighbours regarding straying cattle.

  Chapter 22

  Abbie parked the hire car in front of the house. From the front there was no sign of fire damage or the horrors that lay within. Police crime scene tape flapped from the front door and when she walked around to the rear, more adorned the back entrance. She pulled it down and stuffed it into the garbage bin, which was full and stank when she opened the lid. She hadn’t been to the dump for weeks. Wrinkling her nose, she jammed the lid back on.

  Her garden was in reasonable shape considering the neglect it had suffered. The lilacs were almost finished, but other flowers were beginning to open along the wall of the house and occasional bursts of a floral scent wafted on the warm air. She hadn’t been in residence last spring so the garden was an ever-changing adventure, as were the bursts of yellow gold wattle that had appeared in the otherwise grey green of the surrounding bush as winter faded.

  Was she brave enough to go inside? No, that’s not why she was here today.

  Abbie turned and strode up the slope towards the path to the ridge. She stopped where the rough grass of the yard met the trees—fifty metres from the house but about level with the roof, enabling her to see over the branches to the distant hills with the main road snaking across open farmland. She was at ground level; a house would sit much higher but still nestle into the rising ground. It might even be high enough for mobile phone and internet reception.

  From here, Rita’s house was visible. New owners would probably bulldoze that too but for a different reason. She perched on a weathered tree stump and began sketching, but what emerged on the paper wasn’t ideas for a new house, instead the old one took shape. She’d loved that house, her home, and it deserved to be remembered for the happy times it had provided, the refuge she’d sought when fleeing Sydney. With the afternoon sun bathing it in warmth, and the flowers and new green shoots appearing on the shrubs crowding along the walls and path, it looked as serene and comfortable as it had when she’d first come to view it.

  Her pencil flew across the page; nothing intruded.

  An hour later she was back at the police station setting up a new, smaller-sized canvas and when Rupe came home several hours later, she was immersed in translating the barrage of emotions into paint. The car engine cut through her focus and she reluctantly set her brush down.

  Feet clomped long the path, the back door opened.

  ‘Hello. How’s it going?’ he said. If he was surprised, annoyed or pleased she was still here, he didn’t show it.

  ‘Pretty good. Although …’

  ‘Hang on, I’ve been tramping about in a dusty cow paddock. I need a wash and a beer.’

  Abbie took the hint and went to the kitchen.

  ‘I went out to the house,’ she said when he returned. She averted her eyes, which insisted on staring at his body. He’d changed into those snug-fitting jeans and a shirt which hung loosely from broad shoulders. Off duty.

  ‘And?’

  ‘The bin needs emptying.’ He sat down and took a swig of the cold beer she’d placed on the table, waited. She’d made herself tea. Her hand shook as she poured in a dash of milk. ‘I couldn’t go inside the house.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘Yes. You don’t have to.’

  While she’d been painting, reality had receded. Now it was back, fragmenting her. Abbie folded her arms across her chest, holding herself together.

  ‘I’m a mess. I keep changing my mind. I was sure I’d bulldoze the house, that I couldn’t live there ever again. Now, today, I walked up the back to see where a new place could go, the view … all that.’ She stopped, biting at the inside of her lip. ‘The house looked so calm and snug in the sunshine. Wattle is out, the air is so fresh. Flowers are coming out that I haven’t seen before. I remembered how much I loved living there and how happy I was when I first saw it. Straightaway it felt like home.’ She sensed his calm gaze upon her but couldn’t meet his eye. ‘I started sketching. I wanted to capture it—its essence.’

  Now she looked up. She was raving but of all people she knew he understood what she was trying to say.

  ‘It had a nice feel, that house,’ he said softly.

  ‘Now I’m thinking what if, instead of bulldozing it, I do a complete internal renovation and extension? Add an ensuite, knock out walls, rearrange and renew. Destroy the bad memories and keep the good.’ The flood of words petered out. ‘Is that possible?’

  ‘I think so. It’s only been a week. You don’t have to make any decisions today or tomorrow or next month. Getting over this will take time. But having something like that to focus your energy on can be a good thing. It’s rebuilding your life. A new life.’

  Abbie let her arms slide apart, her shoulders relax. ‘I suppose you’re right. I just seem to be jumping from one thing to another at random where normally I’m focused and clear about what I’m doing.’

  ‘Things will fall into place again bit by bit. I was the same after Benita died. I didn’t know what I was doing or what I wanted.’

  She sat down. ‘But you made the decision to come here. You knew you needed to make a change.’

  He cleared his throat and it was a few moments before he spoke.

  ‘I’ve never admitted this before, even to myself, but Abbie, I wasn’t brave or anything like it. I was running away. Hiding from the life we’d had together. Coming here was like becoming a hermit. I deliberately cut myself off from everything that reminded me of her.’

  She stretched her hand across the table and closed her fingers closed around his. ‘I was hiding too. Different reason but same decision,’ she said.

  ‘It didn’t solve the basic problem, did it?’

  ‘No.’ She gave a cynical little snort of l
aughter as she released his hand. So much for his declaration of love for her. He wasn’t over his wife. She’d been right to be circumspect. ‘But my problem has been sorted for me.’

  Rupe smiled. ‘That’s one way of looking at it.’

  She returned the smile, genuine this time. ‘It’s good not to have to keep secrets anymore, and Georgia and I are on good terms again.’

  ‘I’m pleased for you.’ He took another pull at the beer. ‘What would you do to the house?’

  ***

  On Sunday a couple of weeks later, Rupe, along with Tim, Connie, Marlene and Henk, helped Abbie move into the rental house. Her new bed and lounge suite had arrived the previous Friday from Wagga, the result of an exhausting shopping expedition with Marlene where she’d spent a small fortune not only on the furniture but also towels and bed linen. She’d been semi-camping in the house since Friday, anxious to set up her own space again, be independent.

  The evening of the move, she provided pizza, beer and wine in her new house as a thank you to the workers who’d shifted the essentials such as kitchen gear, chairs, table and bookcases from the old house. Tim and Rupe had also taken the fire-damaged furniture and the grisly spare room bed and rug to the dump, removing the worst reminders of the tragedy.

  Almost as soon as the pizzas arrived, more well-wishers, led by Dot and Laurie, turned up bearing food and drink and the small party turned into a large house-warming. She didn’t even bother asking who spread the word; the book group ladies were a verbal information conduit to rival any technology.

  Midway through the evening, Laurie took it upon himself to make a speech to the crowded living room. The sliding doors to the deck were wide open and more smiling faces peered in from outside as he tapped a spoon on his beer bottle. Dot pulled Abbie forward, much to her dismay.

  ‘We know you’ve been through a rough patch lately, love.’ Laurie fixed her with a fatherly gaze, radiating kindness and concern. Tears stung the back of her throat.

  ‘That’s putting it bloody mildly,’ called Tim.

  Laurie smiled as the laughs subsided. ‘As I was saying before the peanut gallery joined in … you’ve had a tough time of it but you’re part of the community now and we want you to know we’re here to help whenever you need it. We look after each other in Taylor’s Bend and we’re all glad you’ve decided to stay. No-one could blame you if you got out of here and went back to the city.’ He raised his glass of beer. ‘Here’s to our resident artist.’

  He slung an arm around her and kissed her cheek to laughter and applause.

  Hot-cheeked, flustered and unprepared, Abbie said, ‘Thank you, everyone. Laurie. I don’t know what to say... you’re all so kind and generous. I’ve never felt so welcome and so much part of a community as I have here. So … thank you for everything you’ve done for me today and … thank you.’

  She stepped back abruptly between Marlene and Connie, wiping a couple of tears from her cheeks. Connie gave her a quick hug.

  Rupe raised his hands and quietened the hubbub. He had the stern but determined expression she recognised from when he began investigating the possum incident. It might be the same shirt he wore the night he fixed the gate and stayed for dinner. The night they’d both experienced sensations each had thought un-revivable. The stirrings of an attraction, not just physical, which in her case had always been there, but of the mind. A kindred spirit. A much rarer discovery.

  Watching him wait for the noise to die down, another memory broke to the surface. The kiss. Only one kiss but imbued with the promise of more. How she’d looked forward to the next time.

  Her heart did a quickstep. What was he going to say? Surely nothing that would embarrass her—like a renewed and very public declaration of his feelings. No way. He wouldn’t! He’d embarrass himself just as much and he’d promised he’d never mention it again. He hadn’t. Part of her hoped he would.

  ‘While we’re all here and still relatively sober—by the way I’ll be confiscating car keys later if necessary.’ He paused to let the chorus of good-natured booing fade. ‘I want to let you all know I’ll be leaving in a few weeks to take up a position in Wagga.’

  Silence, broken only by a few muttered remarks. Far from a quickstep, Abbie’s heart went into shock. Her lungs gasped for air and for a nasty moment her legs barely held her upright.

  ‘Did you know that?’ asked Marlene.

  ‘No.’ It came out as a whisper.

  ‘You kept that quiet, Rupe,’ said Hannah. ‘Why are you leaving us? Is it a promotion?’

  ‘It’s a full-time position,’ he said. ‘I’ve enjoyed my time here and I want to thank you all for making me so welcome.’ Very formal, still with the serious face. His gaze swept the room, barely pausing on her.

  She’d lost him. The realisation smacked into her like a hammer blow. She’d lost him and she wanted him back more than anything she’d wanted in her life.

  ‘That’s a bloody shame,’ said Laurie. ‘But I suppose we can’t expect a young bloke to stay long out here. We’re usually not exciting enough. Hope the next bloke can play cricket.’

  Rupe glanced at Abbie when he made his announcement but was careful not to focus on her. The idea had formed soon after she made it clear his love was one-sided, and a surprising, recent phone call from DS McGrath tidying up some loose ends and saying if he was looking to transfer she’d be happy to have him on her team, clinched it. He had to move on. He couldn’t drag his heart behind him as he went about Taylor’s Bend. There wasn’t enough to occupy his off-duty hours and distract his mind. Not enough activity to prevent him inventing excuses to see her and make himself an object of pity for the locals—because they all knew the situation.

  He left before the party wound down and deliberately chose to say goodnight when Abbie was with Hannah, Dot and Connie and he could avoid a confrontation about his decision. She’d collected her art gear that morning, driving her new second-hand car to the station while he, Henk and Tim out at her house began loading up the furniture she’d chosen to keep. There was now no reason for their paths to cross outside the normal casual sightings in the street.

  That way, he calculated, he should be able to make it through the last few weeks of his term. After her chaotic and emotional first week, Abbie had begun to resume her normal equilibrium. Painting helped the most but she’d finally visited a counsellor and said he’d been useful. She’d bought herself a car with the help of Marlene and Henk, but sought Rupe’s advice as well. She worked each day in her makeshift studio in his house and although he knew it was disastrous, he looked forward to seeing her there when he came home during the day or popped into the kitchen from the office for tea or coffee. A couple of times she’d prepared lunch for them both. He began to wish she wouldn’t.

  She carried on as though they were friends, oblivious to the wreckage that was his heart. He’d thought he could cope with friendship but it was a nightmare. It had to stop and the clean break offered by DS McGrath came as a relief, wrench though it would be to leave a home and community he loved.

  ***

  Abbie told the stragglers to leave the clean-up, but the book group ladies wiped benchtops, picked up, straightened, and hauled two large plastic rubbish bags away before heading home laughing and chattering. It wasn’t late, barely nine-thirty and the house was quiet. People had children to put to bed or early starts in Taylor’s Bend.

  Abbie collapsed onto her new dark red couch, chosen for its high back and soft cushiony comfort. Rupe’s decision to leave still reverberated in her head. Was it because of her or was he taking advantage of the opportunity to further his career? Since she’d turned him down, he’d been friendly but increasingly distant while she’d attempted to mend the rift between them by trying to revive the casual friendliness they’d enjoyed before. That had failed in spectacular fashion.

  Why was he leaving? He liked it here, in fact he’d told here once he enjoyed the country lifestyle. He didn’t like living in the city. But Wagga was hard
ly a metropolis.

  She sat up, too restless to stay still, mind too churned up to concentrate on a book or watch TV.

  A few minutes later, Abbie strode along the dimly lit footpath heading for the main street. She had no clear idea where she was going, her main aim being to walk off the surplus energy. Where that had come from she had no idea, given the day had been a tiring and emotionally draining one. She’d met Tim and Connie at the house yesterday to decide which items to move, and to pack up her kitchen things, laundry items and books. Without them she wouldn’t have had the courage, but Connie’s calm matter-of-factness and Tim’s decisiveness buoyed her through the initial qualms until the task at hand took over.

  Tim and Connie, or Constanza in full, had the perfect marriage from what she could judge. How lucky some people were to find their ideal mate. It was such a lottery. Connie met Tim when he was looking at grape-growing techniques in Italy and she’d been working at one of the vineyards. She was the owner’s sister-in-law, visiting from Malaga for a few months. ‘My sister married an Italian man,’ she said. ‘Imagine if she’d turned him down, I never would have met my Tim.’

  ‘You might have met somewhere else,’ said Abbie, but Connie snorted her disbelief and she was probably right. Where else would Tim, the quintessential Aussie country bloke on his first overseas trip, meet Connie, a Spanish girl visiting Italy for a break before starting a new job as accounts manager in a large company?

  ‘A chance like this comes once and if you don’t take it you miss out,’ she said.

  The conversation echoed in Abbie’s head as she pounded along the pavement. Only one chance. Had she missed hers?

  ‘Evening, Abbie. You look like a woman on a mission.’

  She stopped, registering the face and voice. Beryl, from the library, expansive in a blue and white floral print skirt and white Indian-cotton blouse, hair dyed purple this week, coming along with her poodle on a lead, puffing slightly from the exertion. Beryl had a nose for gossip and a tongue to match. The library gave her plenty of opportunity to indulge herself.