Stone Castles

by Trish Morey

  ‘Yeah? Who?’

  ‘An old friend.’ She plucked at the fringe on the cushion, wondering why it had taken so long to recognise the truth in Luke’s words. But she was going to be happy from now on. She was determined to be happy, and winning that promotion was the key. Her folks would be so proud of her if they knew. ‘So, how’s Adam?’

  Her roommate looked coy. ‘He’s cute. He’s got the sexiest accent.’

  Pip arched an eyebrow. ‘And that’s always the best basis for any relationship, right there.’

  Carmen grinned. ‘Hey, for what it’s worth, I think you did the right thing. You deserve better than Chad.’

  ‘Yeah? You never said as much.’

  The other woman shrugged. ‘People make choices. It’s not my place to criticise. I just thought you needed someone really hot.’

  ‘Like Adam, you mean.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  And Pip got up and swiped her friend with the cushion. ‘You nut job! I’m going to study my notes for tomorrow,’ she said as she leaned over to give Carmen a hug. ‘And thank you. I’ll see you in the morning.’

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Breathe, she told herself as the clock ticked over to ten. She was sitting outside the meeting room, waiting for the current interview to wind up and for the interviewers to be ready.

  She was prepared. She knew her stuff. She was confident she satisfied all the performance criteria and then some. She had the support of her team and those in management above her.

  And she’d slept. She’d dropped a sleeping pill and had six dreamless hours of sleep. Perfect.

  She looked good too – her hair impeccably straight, the colour a blend of caramel and toasted marshmallow and cinnamon, thanks to Rikki. Her outfit looked immaculate. She’d even managed to squeeze into her best business suit, and hadn’t that made her feel even better?

  Oh yes.

  So she sat, and waited, one leg crossed over the other, hands entwined around one knee, burying any hint of nervousness and exuding confidence.

  All she had to do was get in there, take a deep breath, and show them what she knew.

  She could do this.

  The door opened and Edward J Stanwyck Jnr emerged from within, smiling like the cat that got the cream as he thanked them for their time and told them he looked forward to their call.

  Jerk.

  He was so not getting this job.

  Not if she had anything to do with it.

  She smiled brightly when he turned. ‘Hello, Edward.’ He stopped and blinked. A blink that said a thousand words and not one of them involving cats or cream. Her smile widened.

  Dead meat.

  ‘Two minutes,’ the clerk holding the iPad indicated, and she turned her smile on him before he disappeared back inside.

  She stood up, smoothing invisible creases from her slim fitting trousers.

  ‘Good luck,’ Edward said to her quietly.

  She smiled thinly back. She didn’t believe in luck and she didn’t need it. Because this job was all but in the bag.

  Operation Happiness, come on down.

  Too easy.

  The interview was going well. She’d talked about her role and her achievements. Without false modesty. Without arrogance. Just laying it out straight. She had a good track record and she knew it.

  Her New York boss was sitting back looking pleased with himself, the London VP was nodding and she was feeling quietly confident when he said, ‘So in this new role, you’d be expected to participate in recruitment interviews for the bank. What are the attributes you would stress to people coming into the organisation that sets this business apart?’

  She loved that question. She knew this stuff by heart.

  ‘A passion for work,’ she said. ‘Because the hours can be long and the work tough and the days intensive.’

  And right out of nowhere a picture of Luke popped into her thoughts, front and centre. Because his days were long and tough and intensive too, and you could tell he worked hard by the muscles in his arms and his chest and abs.

  ‘Anything else?’ the UK partner prompted.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, gathering her thoughts. ‘They’ll need dedication and a keen sense of responsibility and a pride in what they do, and a realisation that sometimes that might mean making sacrifices.’ As she continued, she realised that every single quality she mentioned reminded her of Luke. And she wished there was a pill she could take so she didn’t have to put up with him invading her thoughts in her waking hours too.

  ‘Excellent. And tell us, why do you want this job?’

  So Edward can’t have it.

  She launched into the spiel she’d prepared. Edward was so not getting a look in. She still remembered the way he’d dumped her, still remembered the cold disdain of his mother; the narrowing eyes of his father when she’d done nothing more than suggest that the US constitution was fatally flawed and that everybody in New York City was in favour of gay marriage.

  She blinked, her words faltering as Luke’s words came back to her. You can’t let yourself be happy.

  And like a thunderclap, she realised what she’d done that weekend when Edward had taken her home for Thanksgiving.

  She’d sabotaged a chance at happiness with him. Cut it dead in the water. She might just as well have walked into a National Rifle Association convention wearing a T-shirt saying guns are for sissies. Of course his nice upper crust parents from Mission Hills, Kansas, were appalled.

  You can’t let yourself be happy.

  And she hadn’t.

  All along she’d cut herself off from any chance of happiness.

  Starting with walking away from Luke.

  Luke.

  A band around her chest pulled so tight she could barely breathe.

  Oh god, what had she done?

  We weren’t just having sex. We were making love. What does that tell you?

  A man would have to be mad to love you.

  She hadn’t loved Edward at all. She’d been going through the motions, pretending to live, and been trapped by a man who’d thought she was sincere and was trying to do the right thing.

  No wonder she’d set the boundaries ever since at ‘just sex’.

  But she’d been kidding herself with Luke. It had never been ‘just sex’ with him. No wonder she’d been so angry with him that last night. Not only had he dared to tell her what her problems were – rightly, as it turned out – but he’d denied her one more night of pleasure.

  Because it had never been ‘just sex’ with him. What they’d been doing was making love.

  Oh, Luke . . .

  ‘Ms Martin?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ And she backed up to where her answer had stalled and limped through the rest of her delivery.

  The two men exchanged glances and Pip smiled weakly, her stomach churning, her palms suddenly damp.

  ‘So, maybe in conclusion,’ the UK partner said, ‘tell us why you think you are the best candidate for this role.’

  She looked up at them, saw their frowns and the concern and doubt in their eyes and knew it was but a fraction of what she was experiencing right now. Turmoil. Shock. And fear that she was already too late. She blinked her eyes. ‘Actually, I don’t think I am.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Excuse me?’

  She didn’t understand it herself. Not completely. But while she was probably too late to make it up to Luke, there was a chance going begging to make up for the way she’d treated Edward.

  ‘I think you should give the job to Edward Stanwyck.’ She looked at their disbelieving faces. ‘And now if you’ll excuse me,’ she said, as she stood on wobbly legs, feeling sick and uncertain, but at the same time, knowing it was the right thing to do, ‘there’s somewhere I really need to be . . .’

  Cha
pter Thirty-four

  ‘What’s wrong? What happened at the interview?’ demanded Carmen, bursting into Pip’s room. She was on her lunch break, and had come home in response to Pip’s urgent text. She stopped dead at the door when she saw the open case and her friend sorting a pile of clothes on the bed. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘I’m packing.’

  ‘But we don’t leave until Christmas Eve.’ Carmen’s eyes narrowed as she checked out the clothes Pip was packing. ‘And it’s warmer than here but it’s not exactly a heatwave in California right now.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Carmen, but I can’t come to California with you this time.’

  ‘Then where are you going?’

  ‘Back.’

  ‘To Australia?’

  She nodded as she rolled more clothes into the suitcase. ‘I’ve got a flight booked tonight. There’s a car coming in an hour to take me to JFK and I’ll be back in Adelaide by lunchtime on Christmas Eve. I’ve paid up two months in advance on the rent, just in case I don’t get back for a while, and I’ve left some money for utilities in an envelope in the kitchen.

  Carmen put a hand to her arm, stilling her for just a moment. ‘Pip, you’re making no sense. What’s going on? What happened at the interview?’

  Pip looked at her. ‘I told them to give the job to Edward Stanwyck.’

  ‘You what? The jerk who dumped you?’

  ‘He’s a good candidate. And I don’t really want the job.’

  ‘Hang on. Last night you were all about Operation Happiness. Getting this promotion was part of that. Wasn’t it?’

  ‘I changed my mind. That job wasn’t going to make me happy. I realised what I really want.’

  ‘And what’s that?’

  ‘Luke.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The guy in the photo – the one you asked about.’

  Carmen’s eyes opened wide. ‘You mean the hot guy who was looking right at you?’

  ‘Yeah.’ She smiled. Because he was. Smoking hot, and she could finally admit that now.

  ‘Whoa! Okay, this is going to take a bit of time. So start from the beginning.’

  So Pip started from the beginning, and told her how they’d grown up neighbours together, and how they used to make stone castles in the mounds between their properties, and how friendship had turned to love and sex, before tragedy had intervened fifteen long years ago.

  Carmen listened and passed her things when she asked for them, and Pip told her how she’d withdrawn from everyone after the accident because of an overwhelming feeling of guilt that she’d let her family down, and how she’d used the mystery of her father’s identity as the excuse to cut herself off from Luke, from her friends, from everyone. How she hadn’t even realised she was doing it.

  ‘Wow,’ Carmen said, when Pip reached the end and dropped her bathroom bag into the space she’d left. ‘Just wow. Does he know you’re coming?’

  ‘I can’t tell him. Not over the phone.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you warn him?’

  She shook her head. ‘The last time we spoke, he told me I’d never get the chance to walk out on him again. I have to talk to him in person. Have to make him see I mean it.’

  ‘He’s the friend, isn’t he. The one who told you to sort out your life.’

  She nodded as she zipped up her bag. ‘He’s the one. The only thing is –’ she looked at her friend, that tightness around her chest squeezing tighter, ‘– I don’t know if it’s already too late.’

  Chapter Thirty-five

  ‘So, you actually want the convertible this time?’

  God, what were the chances? The luggage had taken its own sweet time to appear, somehow she’d been selected for a random bag check, and now the same attendant at the car rental agency was on duty. ‘Yes. The very same. The same one that I booked.’

  ‘Only,’ he said, flicking his pen against the rental papers, ‘I noticed the name and wondered if it was a mistake again.’

  ‘No, this time it’s not a mistake.’ She looked at the lines of people waiting, longer now on Christmas Eve than they’d been just a couple of weeks ago at the start of school holidays. ‘So . . .?’

  ‘Well, you’re in luck, because we’ve actually still got the Audi. Here you go.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she said, accepting the keys and resisting the urge to give him a clip around the ears with them. It was supposed to be a joke. Supposed to make Luke smile.

  Please let him smile.

  Please let him be happy that I’ve come back.

  She wrestled her bag into the trunk – boot, she reminded herself – and opened her door, staring blindly for a moment at the missing steering wheel.

  Oh my god, she thought, clambering in the other side. I’m stuck in Groundhog Day.

  Luke had his head stuck under the bonnet of the ute and was topping up the oil and water when Turbo started barking madly. He was about to head off down to Stansbury to have Christmas with his folks before a spot of fishing. ‘What is it, fella?’ he said, looking up. Finally he heard the approaching car.

  He screwed up his eyes as a bolt of electricity jolted through him.

  No.

  Not possible. It had to be a coincidence. A horrible coincidence.

  She was back in New York City right now. He’d almost convinced himself that he was seeing things when the flash car came closer and he spotted Pip through the windscreen.

  Fuck!

  Turbo was barking and going crazy as she pulled up a few feet away, and Luke told his dog to sit down and shut up.

  And felt like he was going barking mad into the deal.

  Why the hell was she back? What the hell was she doing here?

  She climbed from the car. Stiffly. Awkwardly. Closed the big door behind her. ‘Hi Luke.’

  He wiped his hands on a grease rag but he didn’t move apart from that. ‘Pip.’

  ‘I came back.’

  ‘I can see that.’ What he didn’t understand was why, but he figured she’d tell him if he waited long enough. Until then, he’d try to will his body to stop celebrating already. Mind you, with her in that cute little lacy shirt and skinny jeans, it wasn’t going to be easy.

  He gazed down long and hard at the Toyota’s engine before he dared look up again. Yup, it would be really useful if he could just focus his brain.

  Turbo sat, his tail twitching on the ground, looking from his owner to the visitor. And when the silence stretched too long and too far, and the only noise was the buzz of a blowfly buzzing by, he barked.

  ‘Hey Turbo,’ she said, and the kelpie shot out and made a fuss of her.

  Traitor.

  And because he was getting tired of waiting, he said, ‘Thought you had some big important interview in New York City to get back to.’

  ‘I did,’ she said, scratching behind Turbo’s ears.

  ‘So what brings you back here then?’

  She straightened. ‘You.’

  And something dropped like a brick in his gut.

  He sucked in air to fill the hole it had left. ‘How do you figure that?’

  ‘All those things you told me. That I didn’t think I deserved to be happy. That I ran away from the people who loved me. That I’d buried my heart under a stone castle.’ She paused. ‘You were right.’

  He gave a brief nod and brushed a hand on his pants. ‘Good. A man doesn’t like to be wrong too many times in his life. Gets to be habit forming, otherwise.’

  She blinked, like that wasn’t the response she was expecting. Even Turbo angled his head to the side. Well, he didn’t know what to say either. He wasn’t too well versed in meaningful discussions on the hop, and this one had all the hallmarks. He just wasn’t sure he wanted to be part of it.

  ‘Luke. I came to say I was sorry.’

  ‘You came a he
ll of a long way to say that.’

  She shook her head. ‘I did, but there’s more.’

  He swallowed. This time he wasn’t going anywhere near anything that looked like a question. Because that brick was wreaking havoc in his gut again and there was a buzzing in his ears that had nothing to do with blowflies.

  ‘You said that we’d been making love – as opposed to merely having sex. Do you remember?’

  Oh god. He put his hands wide on the radiator grille and took another eyeful of engine. Yup. Battery was still right there where it should be. All good.

  ‘And you also said that a man would be mad to love me.’

  Radiator present and correct.

  ‘Were you that man? Is that what you were trying to tell me?’

  He squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Does it matter?’ He turned then, and faced her. ‘Does it really matter, Pip?’

  And blue eyes searched anguished blue eyes. Anguished eyes filled with what looked like fear.

  And he knew he couldn’t save her.

  ‘Well,’ she started, looking suddenly tiny and shrunken next to the car, as if she was caving in on herself by the minute. ‘You see, you were right. I built that stone castle around my heart to protect me – and somehow you managed to break through. And do you know what I found inside, when those walls came down? Do you know what was left?’

  He gave the briefest, barest shake of his head.

  She gave a tremulous smile that faded on a frown. ‘That all this time, all through the years, no matter how far I went and what I did, you were there, locked away, deep down where I couldn’t see you. It was you, all this time. I just didn’t know it. I know I’ve caused you so much pain. I know I’ve hurt you too many times to expect forgiveness. But I just had to come and say I’m so sorry. And that I love you, Luke. I think I always have.’

  She sniffed and took a deep breath, and made another attempt at a smile.

  ‘And don’t blame me for this but it’s your fault, because you got me started about thinking how I can be happy. Really happy. And I look at what I threw away before and wonder if it’s too late to try and recapture any of that, but we did, didn’t we? Every time we made love. Didn’t we recapture something of it?