Leath's Legacy

by Anne Ashby

  Kirk swore as he swung the glasses around. Smoke billowed into the blue sky from the bonfire ablaze from the scrub pile that woman had built a couple of weeks ago. He watched more rubbish being added to the shooting flames.

  He tried to drag air into his deflated lungs. People were also working in what had been the gardens; an older couple appeared to be directing operations there. Scrub cutters were slashing through the wilderness while women raked away the cut debris.

  The sound of a chainsaw had him readjusting the direction of his binoculars to spy a harnessed man high up in one of the overgrown trees. Soon a warning yell and a sharp crack echoed up the hill as a portion of the tree top tumbled to the ground.

  Kirk shifted his gaze as the chainsaw started again. With his fingers clenched around the glasses his hands ached, he watched rubble being tossed from the units. On the back of two other trucks he could distinguish kitchen and bathroom cabinets, along with a huge bath.

  Leath Robson was resurrecting the property.

  He lowered the glasses, scrubbing his empty hand across his face. This couldn’t be the end! His brain floundered as it fought against seeing his plan disintegrate.

  Maybe the furniture on the trucks was for the house. Maybe she was renovating the house. Not the motel units. This work didn’t need to mean they were staying. Perhaps they were doing up the house to market it for more money.

  Even as he snatched at this pitifully puny possibility he knew. Knew in his heart it was over.

  Slumped against the truck’s bonnet, he lifted the binoculars to his eyes again. He sucked in a shaky breath as the lenses were filled with the figure of the woman gesticulating angrily toward him. Shocked at having her appear so close, and so angry, Kirk realised somehow she’d seen him watching.

  When a straggly youth joined her and gave a very curt two-fingered salute, Kirk dropped the binoculars with a loud curse. Stalking around the truck, he threw himself behind the steering wheel and slammed the vehicle into gear. With a graunching squeal he sped away.

  All the way to joining his brother, he muttered and swore under his breath. His plan had seemed so simple, buy the property, flatten those damned motel units, clear the gardens and do up the house a bit so Terry could wander safely. Now that stupid woman had messed it all up.

  What was she trying to do? She’d better not be thinking of turning the place into some tourist resort.

  Ha! That is never going to happen. “Over my dead body,” he muttered as he slammed to a stop beside Cade’s truck.

  ****

  Leath stopped raking cut grass to yell across the yard. “Robby...Robby, come here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “That bloody man is spying on us.” Leath pointed up the hill where she’d caught a flash of light off something metallic moments earlier. She watched Robby squint his eyes to try and make out the barely visible figure standing against a red farm vehicle.

  “How dare he? He’s got binoculars.” Leath gasped at his audacity as again sunlight flashed off something near his face.

  She almost smiled as Robby sent their spectator a very pointed wave before muttering, “Forget him, Leath. Let him spy. He’s gonna see we mean business.”

  “But he—”

  “If he turns up with his bloody cheque book again, I’ll deal with him.”

  Leath’s eyebrows shot up at Robby’s misplaced confidence. But then she remembered. Robby hadn’t met Kirk Buchanan.

  Tempted to repeat Robby’s rude gesture, Leath shook her fist at the disappearing truck.

  He might have gone, but a sour taste remained in Leath’s mouth. Would he spy on them again but be more careful to remain hidden next time? She shivered as an alarming premonition sent goose bumps up and down her body.

  Their one meeting worried her. Was Kirk Buchanan too determined, too tough, too strong-willed to fight against and expect to win? She suspected he’d make a very bad enemy.

  Chapter Four

  Leath wandered about the yard as the sun dipped below the hills. The mass of jungle around the buildings was gone. She ran her fingers through her hair. It was totally, incredibly gone.

  All the units and outbuildings were visible, cleared of surrounding vegetation. Trees had been topped; shrubs pruned so severely they were little more than woebegone sticks poking out of the ground. Grass reduced to a few centimetres instead of the previous metre length. And that was only the outside.

  As long as she lived, she would never forget this weekend. Not only for the incredible amount of work achieved by their friends and workmates, but also for the unexpected insight into her brother’s character.

  To her, Robby had always been her baby brother. Almost grown to womanhood when he’d been born, Leath had often felt more like a mother than a sister to him.

  Seeing the regard he was held in by his boss and fellow workmates had filled her with pride. Their willingness to work so hard for petrol money, food, and a few beers had floored her. All Leath’s thanks had been swept aside. She hoped the cheque she forced into the hand of Robby’s boss would more than cover a rip-roaring Christmas party for them all.

  Robby joined her after dousing the last of the hot embers. The bonfire had burned for two days. “What do you think?”

  “I can’t believe it.” Leath exhaled a huge sigh, her hands pressed against her face. “Robby, I can’t believe you’ve done so much.” She hugged him. “You’ve been hiding your light under a bushel, brother. You’re incredible.”

  Her smile widened at the blush colouring her brother’s still-smooth face.

  “Aww, it wasn’t me. The guys did all the work.”

  “Yeah, they did so much I’m gobsmacked.” She watched his face darken still further. “But they must think well of you, or they wouldn’t have helped us like this.”

  Robby stared at his feet scuffing in the dirt.

  “I’m so very proud of you,” Leath whispered. She smiled as his head came up and his chest puffed out.

  They’d always been close, though little talk of affection passed their lips. Leath hastily defused what could turn into an embarrassing moment for both of them. “The local kids are going to hate us, aren’t they?” She grinned at the cleared expanse.

  While there was still a huge portion of jungle beyond the barn and sheds alongside, little remained of the tracks they’d discovered through the undergrowth.

  “As long as they don’t vandalise anything when they realise their playground has disappeared.”

  Leath chewed her lip as she considered the possibility. “Maybe they’ll just find somewhere else to play. They never hurt anything before. I doubt they’d turn into delinquents now.”

  Robby shrugged. “Not much we can do about it, so guess it’s stupid worrying unless it happens.”

  “You’re right. Let’s check everything one last time before we lock up.”

  Uncertain what to expect from their weekend working bee, Leath had not allowed herself to dream. But even if she had, her dreams wouldn’t have come close.

  Twice she’d rushed to the local supermarket to replenish their dwindling food and drink supply, but Leath didn’t care. In the course of just two days, all the units had been stripped, the old furnishings either burned or carted away to the local dump, and two units had been completely renovated. What seemed like a meagre amount spent on food and liquid refreshments couldn’t be measured against their friends’ work.

  She’d had no idea Robby had also organised a plumber and an electrician to attend. They had carried out numerous repairs to the house, crawling under, over and around it. New wiring now increased the pathetic number of power points in the house. Rusty guttering had been replaced. Even a leak in one of the bathroom taps was now a thing of the past.

  “I don’t want to go back to Auckland,” she admitted as they stood admiring the first unit’s new kitchen and bathroom.

  Leath had swallowed concern about Robby’s measurements when they’d carried in the units, but his confidence pro
ved well-founded. Everything had fit so perfect she’d taken it as a sign. A sign they were doing the right thing.

  She couldn’t resist twirling around and bouncing up and down. “I want to start decorating right now.”

  Robby laughed. “Just as well we didn’t buy the paint yet or you’d be pulling a sickie tonight.”

  Leath joined in his laughter, “I might just have been tempted. I didn’t think we had a hope of getting even one of these ready by Labour Weekend. Now it looks like we’ll have two. Thank you, Robby.”

  “Aww shucks,” he answered in a deadpan voice before locking the door behind them. “You have all the hard work to do now. Figuring out what to do inside.”

  “Oh, I already know exactly what I want to do. I’m going to give each unit a theme. I want them to be very individual and as far away from normal, boring motel rooms as they can be.”

  She’d given this so much thought over the last few weeks. “If we want to appeal to couples looking for a romantic weekend away from the hustle and bustle of the city, then we have to provide something different, something unique to market it. We’re too far off the main road north to get travellers passing from A to B. We want couples coming to us because we’re so original and exciting they can’t resist.”

  She stopped when Robby burst out laughing.

  “Go for it, girl!” he teased.

  Leath gave her head a very confident tilt and smiled. “Oh, I intend to.”

  ****

  About to turn into Penny’s cleared driveway, Kirk sighted a lonesome figure and felt the tension drain from his body. He parked and flicked open his cellphone.

  “I’ve found him, Mum. He’s fine, just walking along the beach.” Kirk grimaced at the relief in his mother’s sigh. “I’ll bring him home.”

  “Let him walk for a while, son. He loves the beach, and being outside. Just watch him for me.”

  “I will.” He swallowed the lump in his throat.

  Too restless to stay sitting in the farm truck, Kirk got out and walked along the grass verge above the beach. He looked at the changes to Penny’s yard, even as he kept a wary eye on his father.

  The place now seemed deserted. Hesitating to encroach in case anyone might be here but unable to disguise his interest, he glanced through the glass door of one of the units facing the beach as he passed. It was a shell.

  Surprise made him lean closer to check what looked like a new internal wall. With a furtive glance toward the house—which still appeared deserted—he walked around the unit and pressed his nose against a window before moving even further to look in another window. They appeared to be expanding the bathroom area.

  He frowned; intrigued, despite his frustration the damned units were even still standing. After a quick check on his still-content father wandering along the beach, Kirk stalked over to another unit.

  A mere glance clenched his gut and destroyed any hope he had at renegotiating the purchase of this property. That stupid woman was resurrecting them as motel units.

  Glaring through each of the windows as he circled this unit, Kirk saw no beauty in the shiny new kitchen or the enlarged bathroom. Surprise halted his muttering tirade when a half sunken bath big enough to fit a family came into view. How the hell had they managed to install that?

  Fists clenched in his shorts pockets, Kirk stormed across and inspected each of the units. Two appeared ready for decorating, although whether the plumbing had been done or the wiring checked, seemed doubtful. Still, it appeared to be Leath Robson’s aim to have some of these damned units filled with people during the summer.

  He slammed his fist against the concrete wall, cringing as pain shot up through his arm. Oh God. This situation was even worse than he’d imagined! How would his father react to an ever-changing bunch of strangers hanging around “his home”? There was no telling what effect it might have on him.

  ****

  Leath parked in the modern retirement village’s car park and drew in a huge breath. Unhurried, she climbed out of her car, hoping her wobbly knees would prop up her equally wobbly body. What would she find out about Penelope Maguire today? Something? Everything? Or nothing at all?

  Her heart pounded, and she leaned against the bonnet, commanding her legs to toughen up and stop shaking. Lolling about here wouldn’t achieve anything. Get moving.

  “Mrs. Andrews?” Leath tapped on a door in the office complex. “I’m Leath Robson. I phoned yesterday...”

  The middle-aged lady with twinkling eyes and a friendly smile rose from behind a desk and came forward, hand extended in greeting. “Of course, please come in and take a seat.” Once Leath had done so, the lady continued. “Now what can I do for you?”

  On the way here Leath had figured out what questions she needed to ask. Her request must provide some answers. “I want to make some enquires about a lady who recently died here.”

  “Oh, yes.” The smile was sympathetic. “Was she a relative?”

  Leath paused, chewing her bottom lip. Would her reply determine how much information the woman might divulge? She fidgeted in her seat, reluctant to go into details, yet not wanting to lie. “Ahh, sort of.”

  She could understand why the woman’s eyebrows rose. She’d have been suspicious, too. Flicking through her purse, she extracted Penelope’s death certificate, hoping to confirm her rights without having to go into any details. Spreading the document flat, she eased it across the desk. “Can you tell me about this lady?”

  A frown gathered on the woman’s face as she looked down. Leath leant forward and added a heartfelt, “Please.”

  Mrs. Andrews reluctance became more apparent, and Leath feared this source would be lost if she didn’t do something. After a deep breath she blurted out, “My brother and I are beneficiaries of her will. I understand the need for privacy, but she’s dead. You’ll hardly be breaching her confidence.”

  The woman’s expression now showed a certain amount of disapproval, and Leath’s alarm grew. “I have her solicitor’s card here somewhere.” She dug into her handbag again, feeling the woman’s gaze on her as she shuffled through the jumble inside.

  Once the small card was in her hand she grabbed a pen and scribbled her name on the back before slipping it across the desk. “Please ring them. I’m sure you’ll be happier talking to me after confirming my identity.” The air whooshed out of her lungs, and she slumped back against the seat.

  With a quick nod the woman disappeared out of the office, the little card in her hand. This appeared hopeful. Leath crossed her fingers.

  With hands in that unnatural position for what felt like hours—but was only about five minutes—Leath swung around as the door opened. Nervous excitement churned her stomach and she bit the inside of her cheek.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed.” The twinkle was no longer evident in the woman’s eyes.

  Fingernails dug into Leath’s palms. What is the big deal? I just want to know something about the woman, for heaven’s sake. About to rise from her chair, Mrs. Andrews’ next words halted her movement. “Our details about her are sparse.”

  A manila folder was open in her hand. “She was transferred here from a northern retirement home this last February and passed away in June, as you know. Ms. Maguire was bedridden”—Mrs. Andrews flicked through pages—“and not really lucid for any of the time she was with us.”

  At that second, Leath knew what a balloon must feel like when pricked by a pin. Disappointment swamped her. Carrie’s suggestion to come here had seemed such an obvious way to discover Penelope Maguire’s background. Wrong!

  A sudden idea struck and she leaned forward, clutching the edge of the woman’s desk. “What about personal details?” she demanded hoarsely. “Is a next of kin listed?”

  The sympathetic smile was back as the woman edged the card Leath had given her back across the desk.

  “Her solicitor?” Leath gasped. “Mr. Ellis is down as her next of kin?”

  She watched the woman’s sad no
d. “That’s not as unusual as you might think.” Mrs. Andrews took out a piece of paper and began writing. “Contact the other home; they may be able to help. According to this”—she tapped the folder on her desk—“she was a resident for some years.”

  Gratefully accepting the contact details, Leath remembered to thank her before stumbling out of her office.

  Some years? Penelope Maguire had been in a rest home for some years with no-one bothering about her except supposedly her solicitor. And a fat lot he cared. Look at the state of the property. He’d never checked it was being tended to. She bet, when Penelope died, he only worried about his retainer stopping.

  Climbing into her car, Leath sat staring blankly out the window, guilt and sadness almost overcoming her. She thumped the steering wheel with the heel of her palm, unable to accept her parents might have purposely ignored this old lady for years.

  They couldn’t have. They’d been good, decent people—kind, caring, loving. Uncertainty, then doubt, produced bile in her throat. No. They couldn’t have. There must be another explanation.

  She’d visit this other rest home. The very next time she was up north.

  ****

  The cove looked so peaceful. Leath stretched and tried to shake some of the cobwebs from her brain. She doubted she’d ever drive straight to Greene Valley after her fourth night shift again.

  Grabbing a few hours sleep up here so she could have three clear days to work had seemed sensible. But exhaustion had made driving decidedly dangerous this morning, and she’d hardly crawled into her sleeping bag before sleep claimed her.

  The shock of showering in water not yet reaching lukewarm status several hours later did help to clear her tired haze.

  After some much needed coffee and a quick late lunch, she’d be ready to start painting the first unit. She grinned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Old blue track pants, shrunk since she’d last worn them, and an even older stained red sweatshirt were ideal for painting, even if they looked terribly passé. Who cared? Nobody would see her. Brushing her hair back, she haphazardly secured it with a band.