Run For the Hills

by Carla Caruso

  Rory’s dark gaze was unrelenting. ‘I did love you, Bridget. I do love you.’

  ‘And I care about you too.’ Her voice wobbled. ‘But the problem is you don’t really know me. You couldn’t have, because I wasn’t being true to myself when we were together. I was trying to be someone I’m not. Which is why this can’t work anymore. But I’m honestly sorry for all I’ve put you through, including the media attention.’

  Rory waved a hand in the air, obviously feigning confidence. ‘No such thing as bad publicity, right? The hotel group keeps getting mentioned and it hasn’t hurt business. In fact, quite the opposite.’

  She bet there’d been plenty of women clamouring to help mend his broken heart too. At least it lessened her guilt a little after everything.

  Bridie forced a smile. ‘So, like I texted earlier, you agree not to go public with our meeting until the end of the week? There are a … a few things I want to sort out first.’

  ‘Sure, no problems.’ Rory got to his feet, nonchalantly sliding his aviators on top of his head. ‘The news cycle starts Sunday anyway.’

  He was all business already. Always had been really.

  ‘Of course.’

  She stood up too as Rory strode around the table. At the last minute, he outstretched his arms. A surprise. She fell into his designer-cologne-scented, gym-honed embrace, and for a millisecond, imagined what life would be like as Mrs Cambridge. Not too shabby, undoubtedly, but it wasn’t her life to live anymore.

  Rory pulled away, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. ‘Too bad things didn’t work out for us, huh?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said quietly, feeling a tug of affection for him. As friends, and former work comrades.

  ‘All right, guess I’d better leave first. Don’t want us to be spotted together, just in case anyone works it out.’

  ‘Good idea.’ As he swung open the door, Bridie called out to him. ‘Oh, and I’ll see you Saturday, remember? At Tilda’s? Though, naturally, I’ll be keeping a low-profile.’

  She’d decided not to miss the last hurrah, after all. Somehow she’d made it work.

  Rory turned back with a nod, a flicker of hurt lingering in his eyes despite the cocky facade. ‘Sure, see you then.’ Then he slid his aviators on and walked away, as though an ultra-suave guy, wearing shades inside a small-town library, wouldn’t look out of place.

  Bridie waited a few minutes, idly flicking through a book on plant science that had been discarded on a windowsill—as dull a text as she needed right then. Then she walked, head down, out of the study room and library, feeling slightly numb.

  How much easier could things have been in her life if she’d just confronted Rory earlier? On the flipside, what might she have missed out on if she had? And what lie of a life might she currently be living?

  After last night’s storm, the weather was back to summer-fabulous, the sky a turquoise-blue and the sun warming her face as she headed along the footpath. It reflected the clearing of the storm clouds in her own life, though she still had to face the media someday soon, and Cody, and work out what to do about the situation with her mother—

  ‘Bridget!’

  No. Uh-uh. She had to be dreaming. Hearing things due to her fug of thoughts.

  Just to make sure, though, she pivoted on her heel and her stomach dropped thirty storeys. Her mother, honest-to-god, was in Balkissoch. What a hell of a morning.

  ‘Greta,’ Bridie breathed. The only name her mother ever allowed her to use.

  She was perched at an outside table at the café Bridie usually frequented, looking like a modern gypsy in a black, broderie anglaise maxi-dress and oversized sunglasses. Russet-red curls tumbled out beneath her beige floppy felt hat, and in one freckly hand, she grasped a cigarette. How very French. Or Italian, or wherever she’d recently flitted to.

  ‘I could pick you a mile off,’ Greta said with a husky laugh. ‘You look the same as when you were a little girl with your hair like that.’ Bridie was surprised her mum remembered anything about her childhood. Greta tapped the tan-and-black wicker chair beside her. ‘Come, have a seat.’

  Dazedly, Bridie edged over to the chair, grateful no other customers were out enjoying an alfresco brunch. Balkissoch’s quiet vibe had its benefits. She sank down, resting her handbag at her feet.

  Greta arched an eyebrow, not bothering to remove her sunglasses. ‘Surprised to see me in the neighbourhood?’ She’d never been backwards in coming forwards.

  ‘Yes and no,’ Bridie answered honestly.

  Greta tapped ash into the tray of a cactus plant on the table. Was smoking even allowed at the café? ‘I found out through Rae and Jim you were here.’

  ‘I know,’ Bridie said quietly. ‘They’re staying with me. As is Megz.’

  Greta nodded, seeming unruffled. ‘I was worried about you when I heard the news. Wondering what made you flee. Rory seems like a decent sort of man—handsome, personable, driven. A great catch. Unlike your father.’ A man who’d wanted even less to do with Bridie than her mother. Greta pushed on. ‘But, of course, I knew there had to be more to the story.’

  Bridie’s stomach fluttered of its own accord. Even though her mum had never rushed to her side before—not even at Christmas, for her birthday—had she honestly been worried about her?

  Just as her brain was processing this thought came another one. Bridie squinted at her mother. ‘Hang on, have you met Rory? You’re almost talking about him as though you have.’

  Her mum had never made a habit of meeting any of her suitors, however serious.

  Greta tossed her curls over one shoulder. ‘Well, you can just tell he’s a good guy from the media reports and how desperate he’s been to find you. But, yes, I have since met him in person too. I thought it would be good to try to bring you two back together again, to get you in the same room, communicating. Which is why I let slip to him where you were.’

  Bridie felt her heart close over again. If only it hadn’t taken so long for the penny to drop. ‘Greta, why did you really bring Rory here, along with tipoff a photo agency?’

  Laughter bubbled from Greta again, but it sounded more staged. ‘Like I said before, because I wanted to try to get you two back together. On speaking terms, at the very least. All right, so I saw the opportunity to make some money out of it too. I’d seen the agency’s name on photos in celebrity magazines and I knew a reunion shot would be “media gold”, if I could convince you both. But I’ve always fully intended to split any profits with you once you had the chance to calm down.’

  Bridie’s temples pounded out their own bass beat. She felt the very opposite of calm that morning, though everyone kept insisting she had it in her.

  She eyed her mother squarely, keeping her chin up. ‘Tell me again, why did you give me up as a baby?’

  Greta drew on her cigarette, blowing a stream of silvery smoke upwards. ‘This again?’ She looked like she was about to sit for an exam. A rather tedious one. ‘I already told you how becoming a mother made me feel like a caged bird, how difficult things were for me, blah-blah. Not everyone’s cut out for parenthood, you know, and you ended up in the best care. Rae and Jim love you to pieces. Surely you can’t still claim to have abandonment issues at this age?’

  Slowly, Bridie shook her head, her voice quiet but assertive. ‘You know what you can’t keep doing? Running away from your problems, upping and leaving every time the going gets tough. You’ll never grow as a person otherwise.’

  The irony of her words hit her in the stomach, but at least she had faced her demons eventually. When it came to her mother, Bridie knew now she was dealing with a child. One who’d never got past the selfish toddler stage. Plenty of other women had been through postnatal depression and survived with their family intact. Plenty of other women had been courageous.

  Before her mother had a chance to say anything, Bridie asked another question. ‘What destination did you come from this time anyway?’

  Greta frowned for a second, but quickly mas
ked it. ‘Marrakesh. It’s much milder this time of year. Quite beautiful …’

  She sounded like she was reading from a travel brochure. To someone she’d just met.

  Bridie got to her feet, flinging her handbag strap over her shoulder. ‘Good. I imagine your celebrity-spotter fee will help fund your way back there. No need to hang around here anymore or to stay in contact with me. I’ll be doing the media thing on my own terms.’ She pressed on, her voice thick with sarcasm. ‘But thanks anyway for your concern.’

  Bridie saw her mum’s dark eyes widen behind her shades, but she no longer cared what the woman thought. Aunt Raelene had protected her from the truth about her mother for too long; blood wasn’t always thicker than water. Her mum was cut from an entirely different cloth from Bridie and her aunt. Taking advantage of Greta’s shell-shocked state, Bridie turned and casually strolled away.

  Running away generally wasn’t wise, but leaving behind toxic situations and people was. And this time she was walking out on her mum.

  * * *

  From the vantage point of the front porch, Cody watched Bridie walk up the drive late Monday morning. His stomach twisted—at the usual heart-stopping sight of her, at the cold realisation that nothing would ever be the same between them again, and from the knowledge that he’d been played like a fool for a second time. Her real identity seemed as clear as the summer’s day now. Yet he still didn’t know what he wanted to say or do.

  Finally, she paused before him, dark smudges evident beneath her eyes. Obviously she’d had a restless night too. Maybe she’d guessed it wouldn’t take him long to connect the dots.

  She stared at him as he tried to sort out his jumbled thoughts, a gentle breeze ruffling her caramel hair. Her voice came out a whisper. ‘You know.’

  His movements feeling sluggish, he nodded. ‘That you’re Bridget June.’ His words seemed to come from someone else.

  In some way he felt lighter. Knowing he wasn’t deluded, dreaming up crazy-arsed scenarios. On the flipside, it also meant this head-fuck was real.

  She bit her lip. ‘Shall we go somewhere to talk about this? Alone?’

  He was owed an explanation. ‘All right … by the lake,’ he said coolly as though they were merely talking shop. ‘Jaxon took your guests out sightseeing and Vance is in the office, so we should be fine.’ From his shirt pocket, he grabbed his reflective sunnies, slipping them on. Needing distance.

  ‘Cool,’ Bridie breathed.

  They were silent on the walk around the house, the weather making the scenery look even more spectacular in defiance to the virtual dark clouds hanging over them. At the lake’s wooden deck, Cody sat down, swinging his legs over the edge so his feet dangled just above the water. This way, he could avoid looking in her eyes.

  She dropped down beside him, ducking a look his way. ‘So … how’d you guess?’

  He breathed out through his nose. ‘Your chickenpox scar in a photo. Coupled with your behaviour lately … it all just added up.’ He reached for a pebble, skimming it across the green-blue water. It sank out of sight. ‘Your turn. Why’d you run away on your wedding day?’

  Bridie fiddled with her stud earring, appearing to be searching for the right words. ‘On the surface? Because I was sent a picture of my groom in a compromising position. I saw the alert just as I was about to step out of the limo.’

  ‘O-kay,’ Cody allowed.

  ‘But deep down?’ Bridie tore a hand through her hair. ‘I think I was running away from what I’d become. When I first moved to the city, I didn’t want to be Bridie from the outer suburbs anymore. I wanted to be, I don’t know, a woman of the world. And mostly, I wanted to fit in.

  ‘I struggled to get a decent job in marketing until I changed my image—bleaching my hair, getting weekly spray-tans, running up my credit card bill on designer make-up, wearing lots of black, black, black.

  ‘Then Rory took a shine to me. With his family name and business interests, it took things to another level. I was “in” … until I discovered he’d apparently been cheating on me. I received an incriminating photo on the day of our wedding. And I knew I’d never be enough for someone like him, that I’d always be a fraud. I looked the part, but I’d never really fit in his world.’

  Cody had to admire Bridie’s honesty, even if it’d come too late in the game. Had been forced. ‘Right … and excuse me but do I call you “Bridie” or “Bridget” now?’

  Her cheeks stained pink. ‘Well, my birth name’s “Bridget Porter”, but my aunt and uncle always called me “Bridie”, so I went with that when I fled. It felt right considering I look a lot like my old self again, minus the glasses. They’re fashion ones, not real, though I used to wear blue contacts. June’s my middle name, but for a while I used it as my surname. To go with my new image, I guess.’

  Cody nodded again, though it only made him wonder what else she’d lied about, what else she’d faked. She could have had success in Hollywood with her acting skills. ‘Okay, so I guess now the question is: where to from here?’

  Something like hope shone in her eyes. Probably she was just trying to keep him onside, knowing the assignment he’d been given. ‘With us?’

  His jaw tensed. God she was a good little thespian. ‘No, about my work,’ he ground out. ‘My boss needs a photo and someone has “outed” your hiding place.’

  Man, he should have listened to Jaxon about staying away from her. About blurring the lines.

  ‘Of course.’ Bridie’s blush deepened. ‘Well, if I have to have someone take my picture, I’d rather it be you. Someone I know and trust.’

  She faltered on the last word, probably because she hadn’t proved so trustworthy herself lately, if ever. She pushed on. ‘And I’d be happy to email your boss an exclusive statement to go with the photo. I just have one condition. Please. That the picture isn’t released until the night of the commitment ceremony this Saturday. I want to fulfil my work obligations here and … have time to sort things out before I make my next move.’

  Her next move. He wondered how far away that would be and what new identity she’d take on.

  ‘You’ll need to sign a contract,’ Cody said brusquely. ‘With the embargoed date and our right to exclusivity.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ Bridie said softly.

  ‘So when do you want to do the pictures? And where? I’ll need to offer the agency a few different photo options.’

  Bridie shrugged thin shoulders. ‘Here and now’s okay with me.’

  ‘You don’t want professional hair and make-up?’

  Not that she needed it. But she had to have some sort of plan to use the controversy to her advantage, like landing a part in a reality show.

  She surprised him by shaking her head and swinging her slender legs back onto the deck. ‘Nope, no more hiding. Behind anything. I’d rather it be raw, real. People will just have to take me as I am.’

  Maybe it was another calculated move.

  ‘Right,’ he said curtly. ‘I’ll go grab my camera bag before your guests return.’

  A lack of sleep and stylist didn’t stop Bridie from looking stunning through his lens. The golden sunlight and lake backdrop just enhanced her beauty. He didn’t know why she ever thought the fake tan/hair etcetera had been necessary. But it didn’t matter what his camera was in love with.

  As he, at last, rested down his equipment, it hit him that he’d likely never see her again after this week. Aside from maybe on a TV guest spot when he was channel-surfing. But the sooner, the better, right?

  ‘Well, think we’ve got all we need,’ he clipped. ‘Want to have a look at the shots?’

  Her smile looked as diluted as red cordial at a kids’ party. ‘No, I know how good a photographer you are.’ Awkwardly, she twisted her hands. ‘So … I guess that’s it then.’

  ‘Yep,’ he said grimly. With a nervous spin, she began walking towards the back door. He couldn’t help calling out after her, keen to make things clear. ‘Probably a good idea if we keep our di
stance from now on too. No point in doing otherwise.’

  Hey, he’d told her a closely guarded secret about his former relationship, and in turn, she’d told him exactly nothing … until her hand was forced. Even if she had reasons for leaving that jerk, for lacking confidence due to her absent parents, he couldn’t trust anything she said anymore. She’d proved as phony as Paloma.

  ‘Got it,’ Bridie mumbled, ducking her head again.

  Within seconds, she’d disappeared indoors. A vanishing act he needed to get used to. A proverb sprang to mind; maybe he’d seen it in a fortune cookie. ‘Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.’ Nothing truer could be said.

  Chapter 14

  It was hard to believe that this was it. Bridie stood in the shadows at Tilda’s commitment ceremony, currently up to the let-your-hair-down reception stage. Guests hobnobbed by the lake under fairy lights as a DJ spun female-heavy hits by Katy Perry, Kylie and co.

  Beyond that night, once she came out of hiding, she would say goodbye to Goldlake. A thought that wrenched at her gut. The place had become more than a hideaway to her, almost like a home away from home, even with Cody being so cool towards her the past week. Not that she could blame him.

  Bridie wasn’t sure how her mum remained constantly on the move. Leaving people and places behind was exhausting. Heart-rending. But then, Bridie had already determined she and her mother were made of different stuff.

  Pushing her glasses up her nose—which she’d also soon say goodbye to—Bridie watched Tilda weave through the crowd with her bride, in a froufrou gown, on her arm. Tilda looked razor-sharp herself, with her blonde chin-length bob blow-dried to perfection and her svelte frame clad in a tailored white pantsuit. Bare-chested under her blazer, only a button maintained her dignity. But Tilda could pull off the look, even if she couldn’t pull off ‘nice’.