by Shirley Wine
“This is delicious,” Catherine said enthusiastically, after she tasted the beef and mushroom ragout on its bed of savoury rice.
“Of course. Have some salad?” Jared passed the salad bowl, a complacent grin on his face.
The meal was punctuated with good-natured conversation and lots of laughter.
Winsome watched Jared and Quentin laughing at a sly remark Catherine made. Lacey watched the interaction, wide eyed and intrigued.
Such happy spontaneity contrasted so sharply with the stilted, often awkward dinners she’d endured during the early years of their marriage.
Then, she’d sat tongue-tied and ill at ease as Gaelen and Harvey regaled their friends with all the gossip and happenings about people Winsome didn’t know.
When Gaelen had ruled Totara Park, Winsome and Jared never had the privacy to invite their friends for dinner, or share an evening with friends.
Their marriage, she realised with bleak perceptiveness, never had any real chance of survival. She’d been too young, too insecure to insist her husband make the choices she, as his wife, had every right to demand.
“Where did you learn to cook like this?” Quentin asked as the Jared served a dessert of honeyed pears in brandy sauce, inquisitive about this unsuspected talent in his brother.
“A friend who was Cordon Bleu trained. She was an excellent tutor.”
Jealousy sent needles snagging along Winsome’s veins as she muttered, “As long as she only taught you how to cook.”
Jared laughed softly and she looked at him her eyes narrowed to glittering slits. “I always thought your eyes were blue.”
“Take care or you may find you’re wrong.” Winsome glared at him over the rim of her glass.
“You always were fun to tease.” Jarred leaned over and ruffled her hair and then planted a kiss on her mouth.
“Whew it’s hot in here,” Quentin muttered, fanning the air with exaggerated movements.
“That’s because Daddy lit the fire,” Lacey said brightly, and then looked perplexed as the adults convulsed in laughter.
“We didn’t mean to laugh at you, Lacey.” Jared gathered her onto his knee. The ominous jut of her bottom lip was a sure sign of an incipient temper tantrum. “It’s getting late. Would you like me to tuck you up tonight?”
“And read me a story?”
“Of course.” He kissed her cheek and held her close a moment. “Kiss everyone good night and I’ll come in and read to you.”
“I’ll do the dishes.” Winsome leaned up and kissed his mouth swiftly. “That was a delicious meal. Thank you. I can see I’ll have to get more adventurous.”
“I’d say you’re pretty adventurous already.”
He gave a whoop of laughter as she blushed vividly, knowing he was referring to the way she had seduced him on this floor last night. Flustered, she escaped to the kitchen. Quentin came in when she had almost finished.
“What’s happened between you two?” he asked bluntly. “Have you told him yet?”
“I can’t, Quentin.” She took a tortured breath and turned away to wipe down the bench. “How can I destroy him again when he’s so happy?”
“It’s been years since I’ve seen Jared like this.” Quentin held her hands tightly. “He’s become so morose, aloof and hard.”
“He’s been through hell.” She raised stricken eyes to the man who was her best friend. “How can I inflict more?”
“You’re living in a fool’s paradise. Jared has a right to the truth. I hope and pray you find happiness but this isn’t the way to achieve it. Without truth, it’s not worth that.” He snapped his fingers in a contemptuous movement.
Winsome went on wiping the benches, her heart thrumming, dread seeping into every pore. She knew Quentin was right but it took more courage than she possessed to put things right.
Acutely aware of his brooding gaze, she tidied the kitchen and made coffee. He caught her shoulders as she tried to move away. “We’re all involved in this, Winsome.”
“What do you mean?” She searched his face, seeking an answer to his cryptic statement.
“Think about it. Use your brains, and don’t tell me you have none. I’ve seen the cash flows and budgets you’ve been producing for Jared.” He ruffled his hair in a gesture that enhanced his familial likeness to Jared. “Remember Lacey’s my concern. While Jared doesn’t know, she’s at risk. If you haven’t told Jared by next week, I will.”
“And that’s your final word?”
“That’s my final word. If during that time anything threatens Lacey you’ll be left with nowhere to hide.”
He pushed his hands in his pockets, rocking on his heels, looking into her stricken face.
“Don’t look at me like that. Do you think I like it?” He made an agitated movement with his hands. “This should have been settled immediately. You wouldn’t have had a nervous breakdown and Lacey would have grown up knowing her father.”
“I couldn’t do it.” Winsome was ashen with anguish.
“Instead look at what you have done. You’ve put yourself and Jared through sheer hell. Either you tell Jared or I will.”
A noise caught her attention and Winsome looked up into Jared’s shocked face.
“Am I allowed to be privy to this heavy weight discussion that so obviously concerns me?” he asked harshly.
The blood drained from her face, leaving her light-headed. Jared was again the harsh, unrelenting man she’d seen the day of Harvey’s funeral as he looked from her to Quentin, waiting for one of them to speak.
Winsome’s heart did a double somersault and then raced, threatening to choke her. The knot of tension in her chest tightened viciously. The teasing man from dinner was gone, in his place a harsh, condemning stranger.
Damn Quentin. Why couldn’t he have let them have a few more happy days before he thrust them back into the maelstrom of strife, dissension and grief?
“I can’t,” she choked out in helpless desperation. “I just can’t”
As she ran past Jared he caught her, forcing her face up so he could see it. “What can’t you tell me, Winsome?”
“Leave her, Jared,” Quentin said wearily. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have forced the issue here tonight.”
Jared reluctantly released Winsome and she escaped to the sanctuary of their bedroom followed by two pairs of watchful eyes.
Chapter Ten
Jared carried the coffee tray through to the lounge and poured the drinks. The easy atmosphere had vanished. One thick with tension took its place.
Quentin saw Catherine’s perplexed look and shrugged. What could he say? He was damn tired of having his hands tied and being embroiled in his brother’s affairs.
If his father hadn’t been such a coward—
Quentin took a few sips of his coffee then put down his mug with a sharp thud and stood up. “I can’t stand this situation a moment longer. I’m going to fetch Winsome and settle this whole nightmare now.”
“Not before time. I could use a little honesty,” Jared said through clenched teeth. “It’s obvious you two are as much in cahoots now as you always were.”
Quentin left the room, simmering at his brother’s nasty jibe. Did Jared, like Catherine, think there was more than friendship between himself and Winsome?
The unfairness made him angry. When he found Winsome huddled in the middle of the bed, he leaned over and pulled her upright. “Sitting here in the dark will solve nothing. You and I are going to settle this, now. Catherine and Jared need the truth out in the open.”
Winsome looked at him quivering with distress. This black-browed, angry-eyed man didn’t resemble the man she’d always counted her friend. “What do you mean?”
“We’re going to unravel this god-awful mess you’ve created.”
The knot in her stomach tightened and for one awful moment, she thought she would throw up. But she wasn’t granted that respite. On dragging and reluctant feet she followed Quentin out to the lounge, slumping in a
chair and taking the coffee he poured for her.
He waited until she’d finished giving her time to regain some composure.
“First off, I’d like you to reassure Catherine and Jared, too, that there’s nothing but friendship between us, and there never has been.”
Winsome stared at him, stunned, flinching when he laughed harshly.
“Why do you think she refuses to marry me?” he demanded bitterly. “She thinks I’m carrying a torch for you.”
“That’s crazy.” Winsome flushed, but looking at the other woman, recognised her jealousy.
Oh boy. Winsome swallowed, trying to free the lump in her throat, scarcely believing the evidence of her own eyes. Was Quentin blaming her for Catherine’s lack of trust? A glance at Jared confirmed he too, was far from happy with the implications.
“Is it?” Quentin’s smile was cynical. “When I’m firmly embroiled in your affairs?”
“That was never my choice.” Winsome lifted her chin and met his gaze squarely.
Jared lifted his mug and drained it, a muscle in his cheek jumping. The sound of his mug being put on the table was loud in the strained atmosphere. And she just knew her world was going to collapse around her, once again.
“Maybe not,” Quentin conceded. “But everything else stems directly from your infernal secrecy.”
Nausea churned in her stomach and she was gripped by the compulsive urge to run, as far and as fast as she could. One glanced at Quentin and she knew she was trapped. He intended she should face the past, now.
And Jared, his mood ugly, would not let her escape a second time.
Quentin sighed loudly and her nerves were so shot she flinched, biting down on her lower lip silently curing the betraying movement.
What was he expecting of her? Did he expect her to blurt out the truth? And have Jared call her a rotten liar?
Dread filled every pore. Fear and apprehension tasted metallic on her tongue. The knot in her throat threatened to choke her. Her stomach was hot and tight, a sure sign of fear.
“You don’t care, do you?” Quentin’s bitter question left her feeling sick. “As long as nothing touches your self-centred little world, it doesn’t bother you, does it?”
“That’s not true.” Stung, she denied his unfair words. Far from not caring, she cared too damn much.
She risked a glance at Jared and her heart almost stopped.
Sitting forward in his chair, his hands held limply between his spread knees, he watched her intently without a glimmer of softness.
I should have told him, and never allowed Quentin to engineer this confrontation.
But, left to her own devices she knew she would keep putting it off. Forever.
Quentin’s angry expression told her that was a lame hope.
A log fell in the grate, creating a shower of sparks. The clock ticking on the mantel grew excessively loud.
“It’s no good trying your softening techniques on me. They may work with Jared, but I’m immune.” He leaned against the table watching her, his expression unreadable. “You have nowhere to run with me. I know every damn thing about you, down to the fact that Jared wants to have another baby.”
This was so unexpected Winsome stared at him in shock. Heat crawled up her neck and face. “How do you know that?”
“As Jared has discovered, Lacey’s a very astute kid.” This was said with a flash of sardonic amusement. “You two deserve some happiness but to achieve it you need honesty.”
“And not before time,” Jared said sarcastically.
Jared wanted honesty?
Winsome almost gave in to the hysterical laughter bubbling in her chest. Did he know what he was asking? A glance from one man to the other gave a new definition to being between a rock and a hard place.
“You make things bloody difficult,” Quentin swore in exasperation.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want me to say and I’ll say it,” she flared, goaded into anger.
“Let’s get this straight.” His searing glance flayed her to her soul. “I won’t do your dirty work for you, Winsome. I’m not some sucker you can twist around your little finger with the promise of a romp in bed.”
For one horrified moment she thought she’d misheard.
“How dare you?” Infuriated, she leaped to her feet intent on slapping the sneer off his sardonic face.
Quentin caught her hand in mid-flight and held it tight.
“I wouldn’t,” he said, lethally quiet. “I’m not Jared. Don’t expect me to act the gentleman. Hit me and I’ll retaliate.”
Something in his expression had her sinking back into her chair. She hunched an offended shoulder, seething with anger and humiliation. Why had she considered him her friend?
“I’m sorry. I had no right to make a crack like that.” Quentin shrugged and spread his hands, his expression contrite.
Winsome glanced at him and then away, too hurt to be mollified easily.
Quentin watched her, intently. “Are you okay?”
Winsome nodded but refused to look at him and he sighed, sitting on the arm of her chair, picking up her cold hand.
“Let’s start this again,” he said, his voice gentling but still overlaid with exasperation. “I do know everything about you, Winsome. I’ve read every specialist’s report written about you since you were four.”
Whatever she’d expected it wasn’t this. A strangled gasp escaped. “Who gave you the right to do that?”
“I’m Lacey’s guardian. I needed to know what I’m up against.”
Stunned by this admission, she swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat. In agreeing to Quentin’s his guardianship of Lacey she’d given tacit agreement to having her past investigated. Her agreement was the only alternative to being forced to place Lacey in foster care—which was no choice at all. Why hadn’t she suspected he would take full advantage of his position?
“So why are you Lacey’s guardian?” Jared asked, his tone caustic. “Or is that something that’s to be forever secret?”
“I’m Lacey’s guardian to protect her.” Quentin gave his brother a level look.
“From what?”
Nausea crowded Winsome, her heart beat panicked as she waited for Quentin to reveal the damning reason behind Lacey’s guardianship. She glanced at Jared and then, unable to watch, her despairing gaze dropped to the hand Quentin held.
He surprised her by adroitly evading Jared’s question.
“I’ve known most of your background for years.” His quiet deliberation startled her into looking at him. “Do you remember admitting Mother was blackmailing you?”
“Blackmail. Why the blazes would Mother blackmail you?”
Quentin held up a silencing hand, and to her surprise Jared heeded the imperious gesture.
Stricken, Winsome managed a tiny nod. That day had happened to another person in another lifetime.
“I wanted to know why you allowed her to persecute you. Why you never told Jared what was happening. Had you confided in me the day Matthew died, this would’ve been settled then.”
“I couldn’t.” The admission was torn from a throat, raw with tension. “I was in shock.”
Jared made a strangled sound, and once again Quentin held up a silencing hand.
Talking had been physically impossible.
A shiver goose-stepped across her skin. Scent from the vase of flowers drifted across the room, the sweet smell making her want to gag.
Her memory of that day was clear.
Gripped by a surreal paralysis, she could see and hear but couldn’t speak or connect with anyone. Shock created an invisible screen that separated her from the world. In that trance-like state, she was helpless. Twice in her life she’d experienced this awful sensation.
You were in deep shock, lassie, Dr Cartwright explained so much later. A perfectly normal response to a hideously abnormal situation.
“I realise that now,” Quentin said soberly.
Did he? A choked sound
bubbled out of her mouth. How could anyone else ever understand the shock, the horror, and the sheer disbelief that had gripped her that day?
She heard Quentin’s soft sigh and nausea almost overcame her.
She glanced up and met Jared’s eyes. He was leaning forward in his chair watching them, missing no nuance of their inter-reaction, concentrating on every word and she began to shake.
Control, Winsome, control.
She took a deep breath, then another and grasped back a measure of control. She’d vowed to never let any situation slip from her control again. Remembering that helped to steady her.
“I’m not going to do this, Winsome.” Quentin’s voice was laced with pity. “But you’re not on your own. I’ve seen what it’s done to you and Jared.”
Was he blaming her? That was so unfair she managed to protest. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“Did I say it was?” he asked with deceptive mildness.
“No.”
“None of it has ever been your fault.” He squeezed her hand to give her courage. “You need to stop running and burying your head in the sand. Look at it squarely. You’ve been the victim. And always will be the victim until you face the past and share it with Jared. What is there that you could actually be held responsible for? Think about it?”
Now that held a very familiar ring.
Find the courage to confront it, lassie. Share it with your husband, until you do, neither of you will find peace. Dr Cartwright’s gruff voice ghosted through her mind.
Now, there was no escape. Jared was about to discover the secret she’d hidden so well, for so long. The secret that had cost her baby his life.
“I haven’t been running away,” she said with stubborn insistence.
“Haven’t you?” Quentin glance was pitying. “What about all those years you didn’t talk.”
A violent tremor shook Winsome and her mouth went dry. For one hideous moment she was again a terrified, powerless child alone with her father’s rage.
“Don’t.” Unable to sit still, she leaped out of her chair.
Quentin caught her hand and pushed her back down. “You don’t run away?”
“I don’t have to listen to you,” she retorted, stung. Winsome glanced at Jared and was filled with despair and the old familiar sense of shame.