Secrets of Silvergum

by Mandy Magro

  Her heart galloping, Emma dared a glance into his eyes, and as she did his lips came hazardously close to hers. With only an inch between them, she almost allowed herself to freefall into him, as she had when they were seventeen. But then the voice of reason stepped in, stridently telling her to get the hell away from him before she made another huge mistake. She’d unintentionally broken his heart once already, when he was last here, and broken hers good and proper in the process. Neither of them needed to go through that again. Not ever.

  Begrudgingly unravelling from his strong, protective arms, she pushed her way through the packed dance floor, grabbed her bag from the corner of the booth, and then bolted towards the front doors, her vision blurred by tears. Zane called her name, but she dared not turn around for fear of collapsing into his arms and giving in as he made her feel safe and loved, and the truest form of herself she’d ever experienced. If only things could be different … She needed to get outside before she did something she’d regret the next day. Zane deserved to know all the secrets she was keeping, but she wasn’t about to give in to her conscience and blurt them out in the middle of a dance floor. She’d find the right time – she had no other choice. But not now. Not tonight.

  Cool air slapped her wide awake as she stepped outside, her breath rasping. Moving past the glare of the overhead sign and into the comforting darkness, she stopped and stared up at the glimmering blanket of stars. Her breathing slowing, she heard the crunch of footsteps behind her. Almost too afraid to look back and see Zane, she tried to sneak a peek over her shoulder. What was she going to say to him after running out like that?

  ‘Em, are you okay, hun?’ Renee came to face her, her arms reaching for her.

  She shook her head and wiped at her cheeks. ‘Not really, Rennie.’

  ‘Oh, babe, it must be so hard, seeing him after all this time, especially with everything you’re keeping from him. I can’t even begin to comprehend what you must be going through right now.’ She pulled Emma to her.

  Wrapping her arms tightly around her friend, and now unable to speak for the ball of emotion lodged in her throat, Emma nodded against Renee’s shoulder.

  ‘Even though you never talk about him anymore, I know you love him, Em … you always have, and no doubt always will.’ Renee stroked her hair. ‘You were never together, but he was your very first crush, and your first true love, and you were undoubtedly his. It’s just that life had other plans for you both by the time you realised it.’

  Emma went to deny every word, but then thought better of it. Her best mate knew her inside out and back to front, so there was nothing to be gained from being dishonest, to Renee, or herself. There were enough damn lies complicating her life right now; enough to last her a lifetime and then some. So, she remained silent, her tears falling hard and fast and her body shuddering with deep sobs.

  ‘And just for the record, Zane did the noble thing and went to follow you, but I stopped him and told him it’s secret women’s business, so it’d be best if he stayed in there with Jackson.’ She chuckled. ‘He tried to argue with me, but you know me, Em, stubborn as an ox.’

  ‘Yup, you’re even more stubborn than me, if that’s possible.’ Emma loosened her hold on Renee and cracked a tiny smile. ‘I thought he would’ve tried to follow me … he’d be worried.’

  ‘Yup, he is, but that’s not your concern, my friend.’ Renee’s face was a picture of compassion. ‘You just focus on yourself and that gorgeous daughter of yours. I’ll sort Zane out.’

  Emma sucked in a sharp breath. ‘Don’t tell him anything about …’

  ‘As if I’d go and do something as stupid as that. I’ll just tell him you thought you were going to throw up and made a dash for it.’

  ‘Yeah, sounds good.’ Emma groaned. ‘To be honest, I really don’t feel very well.’

  ‘Yeah, well, you hardly drink anymore, so no wonder.’ Renee smiled softly. ‘How bouts we get you home, huh?’

  Emma cleared her throat and took Renee’s hands in hers. ‘No, I don’t want to put a dampener on your night. You stay with your new friend and I’ll catch a cab home.’

  ‘Oh, Em, are you sure?’

  ‘Absolutely positive. No offence, but I just want to be on my own for a while.’

  ‘No offence taken, Em. We all need a little time by ourselves to rest and recoup.’

  ‘Thanks, Rennie.’ Emma reached into her bag and fished for her mobile phone. ‘I’ll give Lui a call. He’ll be parked around here somewhere, listening to his Italian love songs and waiting for closing time.’

  ‘Okay, just make sure you text me when you’re tucked up in bed, so I know you’re home safe and sound.’

  ‘I will, thanks, hun.’ Emma dialled Lui’s number and pressed the phone to her ear. ‘Hey, Rennie, Jackson seems very nice.’

  ‘He does, doesn’t he?’ She beamed from ear to ear. ‘And I promise, your secrets are safe with me, even though I’m about to ravish a copper.’ She grinned and then mocked zipping her lips shut.

  ‘I want all the goss in the morning,’ she whispered, as the town’s one and only cab driver answered.

  ‘Deal,’ Renee whispered.

  Genuinely smiling now, at both the dreamy look on Renee’s face and Lui’s sing-song Italian voice on the other end of the phone, Emma booked her ride home. ‘All I can say about Jackson, is you go, girlfriend. You deserve to be happy.’

  ‘Thanks, Em, and trust me when I say, I’m gonna make the most of tonight. Who knows where it’ll go after that?’

  ‘Ha-ha, why the hell not test the waters?’

  Lights approached and Lui pulled up beside them. They gave each other another tight hug and a kiss goodbye. ‘I’ll be over to pick Riley up from Granny May’s around nine … that’ll give us a couple of hours to get ready for the funeral.’

  ‘Okay, Em. I’ll make sure I’m ready to come along with you to the church … love you.’

  ‘Love you too, Rennie.’ She climbed in beside Lui. ‘Night.’

  Twenty-five minutes later and Emma was walking through her front door with Tiny’s tail excitedly slapping her on one side and Kat meowing on the other. Tossing her bag and keys on the entrance table, she stopped to give them both a quick pat hello before climbing the stairs, both critters in tow. Kat made her exit at Emma’s bedroom door to wait for her, she’d be sleeping at Emma’s feet as usual, and Tiny followed her and flopped down on the tiled bathroom floor, looking up at her beneath worried brows.

  Emma smiled down at her loyal companion. ‘I’m okay, mate … just need some sleep.’

  Stripping off, she tossed her jeans, top, knickers and bra in the general direction of the clothes basket, all but the jeans landing inside it, and then stepped under the steaming hot shower. After the water had warmed her, she lathered up her hair and then allowed the hot spray to beat down on her aching shoulders as she rested her head against the tiles. Taking slow, deep breaths, she tried to make sense of what just happened at the pub. She knew she was going to feel a connection with Zane, especially as he was Riley’s father, but nothing to the extent she had, and certainly not so quickly. Time and distance had done nothing to quell their flame. If anything, it had made it more intense, and somehow more tangible. Was it because she was single now that she could acknowledge what had been there all along? Or was it because of everything she kept hidden from him, that she somehow felt indebted to him? God only knew. One thing was for certain – tomorrow was Peter’s funeral, and just thinking about seeing Zane in the light of day made her stomach tumble as if she were about to take a leap out of a plane, with no parachute to save her.

  CHAPTER 11

  The alarm Zane had set as he’d slumped into bed echoed through the hotel room, shrill and incessant, stirring him from his fitful few hours of sleep. The curtains open, blinding sunlight had flooded the tiny space, along with the drone of traffic. Freefalling from oblivion and slamming into reality, his heart squeezed – today was the day they would bury the man who had raised h
im, the man he’d once looked up to. The man he’d always wished would love him for who he was and not despise him for who he’d become. Never would he get to hear the word ‘sorry’ he’d so longed for, for most of his life. Not that he’d held high hopes of Peter ever saying it, but there’d always been a glimmer of a chance. The shock of Peter’s death was making him re-evaluate everything, especially the feelings he’d held under lock and key for all these years for Emma.

  Grabbing his jeans from the floor beside him, he plucked out his phone and flicked the alarm off. His head pounding, the sudden silence was a welcome relief. Blinking hangover-heavy eyes, he groaned and rolled onto his side while readjusting his boxer shorts. After too many whiskies, enjoyed before running into the gorgeous Miss Kensington, and then sculled afterwards to curb his worry after she raced out on him, he felt like death warmed up, times a hundred. Regret hung heavy in his heart. Right back at the beginning, when he’d first felt the flutters of lust for her, she been his step-brother’s girlfriend, and he still wasn’t in her scope. He was batting above his weight – that thought kept circling in his head. He shouldn’t have tried to kiss her. Again. But goddamn it, how was he supposed to act like just friends when he adored the woman with every inch of his being?

  Easing himself up from the floor, he took a few moments to get his bearings. As the hotel bed was lumpy and uncomfortable, he’d succumbed to sleeping on the floor, the doona now bunched up underneath him and the two pillows tossed to the side. Leaning his bare back against the wall, he rubbed his throbbing temples as thoughts of Emma pounded him left, right and centre. She’d owned his every dream throughout the night, and now awake, she still possessed his thoughts. The hold she had over his heart was one he both treasured and despised. The connection between them was undeniably beautiful, but what good was it when neither of them was in a position to see where it could take them? But as much as he knew it was useless to open his heart to her, to allow her to see what she meant to him, he just couldn’t seem to help himself when he was with her, especially when she was in his embrace. He’d held many women in his arms before, but Emma was so different, in so many ways. Everything he loved about her stormed to the front of his thoughts, reminding him exactly why he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ever shake her from his mind or heart.

  A soft smile claimed his lips as he recalled twirling her around the dance floor – no matter what was going on in their lives, they’d always fallen in perfect sync with each other while rock and rolling. Then, when the music had slowed and he’d dared to hold her close, her shallow breathing had told him all he needed to know, as had the passion in her eyes when she’d looked at him. So sexy in her jeans, skin-tight blouse and cowgirl boots, he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off her even if he’d wanted to. And her feisty determination turned him on no end.

  Watching her move her curvaceous body to the music, and to him, he’d ached to throw her over his shoulder and drag her up to his hotel room, had longed to make love to her all night long. He adored how she never covered the sexy freckles that dusted her nose with make-up, or felt the need to wear skimpy clothes to grab men’s attention. She owned what she had, and she rocked every single sexy, smooth, silky inch of her five-foot-nothing killer body with class and pizzazz. And as well as all of that, she could hold her own in a bar full of tanked cattlemen, could hammer fence posts in just as fiercely as any man, could pull a motor apart and then put it back together, could tame the wildest of horses. But then get her within his arms and she’d melt into him as if they were made for each other, as if she was home, safe and sound, and could finally let go of everything around them. Their relationship had always been like a rollercoaster – complicated, frustrated, strained, beautiful, ugly and real, and sometimes all at once. But never had he thought they would still have hungered for each other the way they had last night. The smell of her coconut shampoo mixed with the scent of her had taken him away to the time and place that only they’d been privy to. What he’d give to feel that with her again.

  Sighing the memories away, he looked at his watch – it was time to make a move. With a little over two hours before the service began, he needed a long hot shower to freshen up, a pit stop at the bakery to buy something for breakfast, and then on to the church – where he would see Michael again. How that was going to go down, he hadn’t a damn clue, after they’d come to blows eight years ago when Zane was last in town. But he hoped, for the sake of everyone attending the funeral and out of respect for Peter, it would be uneventful. He’d do his very best to make it so, but he could only bite his tongue for so long, before Michael’s arrogance and obnoxiousness would push him over the edge. To avoid that, he needed to keep his distance.

  An hour later, Zane, dressed in his finest black jeans, button-up shirt and tie, hightailed it from the bakery and leapt back into his rental. His breakfast, a sausage roll smothered in tomato sauce, in hand, he winced as a sharp ray of sunshine struck the windscreen of the four-wheel drive. Eyes watering, he grabbed his sunnies from the rim of his wide-brimmed black hat and slipped them on, hoping to god no one would smell the stale whisky on his breath. The renowned prodigal son of one of the most powerful men of Silvergum, half the township would be keen to prove that Peter had been right to dismiss him as worse than useless, so the packet of mints he’d just bought would be his only saviour. Cursing beneath his breath, he wished he could rewind the clock and not have drunk so much, but it had felt damn good at the time to be able to let everything go, while also holding Emma tight. Hindsight was a bitch.

  His empty stomach desperate for sustenance, he ate quickly. Licking the sauce from his fingers as he devoured the last mouthful, he then wiped the crumbs from his shirt. With the church only two streets down from the bakery, he’d be saying his final goodbyes before he knew it. Not knowing what to expect or how he was going to feel as Peter’s coffin was lowered into the earth, his stomach swirled nauseatingly. And then, he thought again, there was the matter of seeing Michael. He heaved a sigh. Just like when he’d climb on the back of a snorting, belligerent bull, most of what was about to unfold was out of his hands. He’d just have to roll with the punches, hopefully not literally.

  Up ahead a crowd huddled under the church’s covered driveway, which also shaded the black hearse from the scorching sunshine. An old red-brick building with leadlight windows, this was the church where Zane had once been an altar boy. The parking spots few and far between, he finally found a place out the front of the police station, almost a block away from where he needed to be. Checking his reflection in the rear-view mirror, he wiped the few crumbs from around his lips, sucked in a deep, calming breath, made sure his mobile was on silent, and then stepped out of the car, confident in the man he’d become. To hell with anyone who had a different opinion.

  His steps quick and determined, he ran a finger around his collar, wishing he could have worn more comfortable clothes. It didn’t take him long to reach the church, just as the last few members of the congregation were making their way inside. Keen to lose himself amongst it all, so he could avoid any small talk, he made a beeline for the steps. But before he could climb them, a kindly face greeted him. His father’s long-standing PA’s pink-lipped smile was filled with such genuine sadness it snagged his breath. Zane forced a smile he was far from feeling.

  ‘Hi, Mary.’ Reaching out, he gave her a quick hug. ‘Thanks for making such an effort to get in touch with me.’ She smelt faintly of mothballs and rose oil, as she always did, and he liked the familiarity of it.

  Reciprocating the embrace, Mary then took a small step back and nodded, the black netting draped from her stylish hat shading her time-weathered face. ‘Of course, Zane, it’s so good to see you, dear.’ She paused and drew in a shuddering breath, then wiped the corners of her eyes with a floral handkerchief. ‘I’m just sorry it’s under such sad circumstances.’

  ‘Me too, Mary …’ Zane placed a hand on her back, feeling her elderly fragility through her cotton blouse. ‘S
hall we go in?’

  ‘Yes, I suppose we should.’ She offered a quivering smile as she glanced around him. ‘Have you come alone?’

  ‘Yes.’ He knew she was hoping for his sake that he’d have a wife and kids in tow.

  ‘Would you like to sit with Frank and me then?’

  ‘Thanks, Mary, I’d like that.’

  ‘I’m so glad you made the trip home.’ Reaching out, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze. ‘Contrary to what anyone else thinks, you were always a good boy, and I knew you would make it back to pay your respects.’

  Her words, although well intentioned, struck him right where it hurt. Hesitating for a moment, he then followed her up the stairs and through the wide arch of the entrance. His eyes took a few seconds to adjust to the change of light, but when they did, the first thing his gaze fell upon was the opulent coffin, and all he felt was cold detachment. It gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the stained-glass windows. Had it been chosen to soothe the living into believing there could be grandeur in death? Wreaths covered the floor all around it.

  Standing at the front of the church, Michael’s dark eyes shot daggers towards him. If looks could kill, he was sure he’d have been dead. A cynical smirk claiming his lips, Michael shook his head ever so slightly, suggesting disbelief that Zane had bothered to come. Not wanting to take his bait, Zane looked away, his hands now fisted at his sides and his jaw clenched. This was certainly not the time nor place to tell Michael what he thought of him. He was sure he’d have plenty of opportunity for that in the coming days – especially with the reading of the will set down for tomorrow. Why he’d been requested to be there was beyond him – but he’d go, regardless, and do the right thing.

  Zane wasn’t surprised to see the church was crowded; every pew was full. Fold-out chairs had been placed around the sides and still some people had to stand. Eyes followed him down the aisle, and he tried to ignore the disapproving stares and whispers. He was no longer the skinny, pimply-faced boy who had left here all those years ago; the lad who local gossips said had left and broken Peter’s heart. The one who returned eight years later only to break his brother’s nose in a jealous rage and leave again.