Deleilah

by Bowes, K T

“I’ve spent the last nineteen years in your shadow.” The other woman’s voice wobbled with suppressed anger. “Everywhere I looked; there you were like a bad omen.”

  “I’m sorry,” Leilah stammered, taken by surprise and lost for words. “I didn’t know.”

  “There’s always been a distance between us, a gap which he saved for you. He bought some of Hector’s stuff and rescued that damn rabbit.” Miriama took a step forward, her toes touching Leilah’s. “Are you here to take my husband?”

  Chapter 23

  Lies

  Leilah put the toilet seat down and sat on it, her legs giving out under her. “You’ve got it so wrong!”

  “I don’t think so.” Miriama closed the door behind her and leaned against it. “I won’t let you take him. You left with his baby but I’ve got three. I took bloody long enough, but I’ve got more claim on him than you.” She ran a hand over her stomach, betraying a womb which had failed her at first.

  Leilah put her head in her hands. “Seline’s not Tane’s.”

  “Don’t lie!” Miriama spat. “She looks like my eldest. I saw you all in a magazine about ten years ago when your husband won New Zealand Businessman of the Year and I knew straight away. Mari said you’d married and had a baby but I did the maths then, Leilah. I felt like someone kicked me in the guts.” Her voice hitched and Leilah ached for her, seeing the madness which ate Miriama from the inside out. “Did Tane know?” She sniffed and swiped a length of toilet roll for her tears.

  “No, because she’s not his!” Leilah stood, maternal instinct shielding her daughter from afar. “There’s nothing for Tane to know!” She balled her fists and gritted her teeth, inducing an ache in her head. “Get out of my way. I’m leaving.”

  Miriama shook her head and hogged the door. “Don’t take him.” A sob made the demand sound like a plea. “I know he cheated on you with me. I know it was wrong. But I never possessed him enough; not really. He still hankers after you and I’m begging, please don’t take him.”

  Leilah’s lips parted in shock. “He cheated on me?” She swallowed, the revelation a surprise. Blowing out through pursed lips she perceived the bitter root of Miriama’s condition. Guilt. Leilah shook her head, not wanting to drag up the past or extend the other woman’s agony. Standing, she laid a gentle hand on the trembling shoulder. “I haven’t come for Tane, I promise. I’m just passing through and I won’t be staying. There’s nothing to feel guilty about, Miriama. What’s done is done and it’s not good to hold onto it. Let’s start again, shall we?” She held out her hand and Miriama stared down at it as though perhaps it was contaminated. Then her face changed, grasping absolution and taking the proffered lifeline.

  “Thank you,” she gushed. “For what it’s worth; I’m sorry.”

  “I just need to use the bathroom, then I’ll come and eat the lovely food you’ve prepared.” Leilah jerked her head towards the toilet and Miriama nodded and backed from the room, banging into the door as she left.

  “Thanks,” she said again, her eyes bright and dancing. “I’ll see you back there.”

  As the door closed behind her, Leilah shot the catch and leaned over the sink, her body bent in half like a broken twig. A small but significant piece of history snapped into place, churning her stomach and making bile rise into her throat. Because it had changed everything; including things which didn’t need changing. “It’s too late now,” she hissed at her white-faced reflection in the mirror. “Much too late.”

  Leilah rejoined the meal to a look of pleasure from Nathan as he patted the seat next to him. Miriama behaved like a different woman, laughing at nothing and bubbling like a kettle. The children observed her with delight, catching her mood and giggling, but Tane didn’t seem to notice, filling his stomach with silent contemplation.

  “Did you like living here?” Nathan asked. “Are you staying? You and Daddy were friends, aye?”

  “Yep.” Leilah grinned and her mind drifted back to her childhood. “At first it was Daddy, Dante and me and then Vaughan came to live with his uncle. We were known at the ‘Four Effs.’ It was our little gang.”

  “Om! That’s swearing!” Tane’s daughter looked scandalised and her eyes widened as her head swivelled in her father’s direction.

  “No, it isn’t!” Tane sounded irritated, but Leilah couldn’t renege on the story once she’d begun.

  “It stood for the foster boy, the foreigner, the female and...” She paused and glanced at Tane, a smirk on her lips.

  “Just say it!” he snapped, reaching for the water jug.

  “The fat kid.” Leilah sniggered and the children gasped in horror and then descended into cackles and snorts of laughter. Even Miriama joined in, swishing her blonde hair over her shoulder, her laughter like tinkling bells. Tane sulked and Leilah felt a flash of guilt. “He lost the weight at high school but we kept the name.” She appealed to Tane with puppy eyes and he smirked, causing general relief amongst his family.

  “The fat kid.” Nathan’s rumbling laughter earned him a nudge from Tane’s giant hand. In the space of ten minutes the dreadful meal had turned from extreme awkwardness to joviality. Leilah ate her salad and returned to the dish for more, relishing the glimpse of a real family and grateful for the few hours of inclusion. She caught Miriama’s eye and the women smiled in solidarity and a pact of shared secrecy, both holding back revelations which should never see the light of day.

  “We’ve changed the old place around quite a bit,” Tane said, jerking his head towards the missing wall which once divided the kitchen from the dining room. “We bought it when Mum and Dad retired and they went into the sheltered housing near the railway line.”

  “How are they?” Leilah remembered Tane’s austere policeman father and gentle mother with fondness.

  “Dad passed away a few years back,” Tane said with regret, heaping more salad next to his steak. “Mum’s still around.”

  “I’m sorry.” Leilah stared at her plate in shock, unable to imagine the death of a man so vibrant and filled with strength. He’d ruled the town with a big stick and kept order with an air of reasonableness and a strong sense of ‘or else.’

  “Yeah, Miriama redesigned the house,” Tane said, praising with casual ease. Miriama pursed her lips and stared at Leilah with a challenge in her eyes, perhaps daring her to compare it to her Auckland mansion.

  “It’s stunning,” Leilah offered, subverting the jealousy in Miriama’s face.

  Tane lurched for the child to his left, reseating him as the boy pitched sideways to hit his sister. “Sit nicely, TJ,” he said with impatience. “We’ve got a guest. Do you want her to think you’re a moron?”

  “A moron,” Nathan giggled and Miriama raised her eyebrows at her husband in rebuke.

  “TJ?” Leilah asked, avoiding her host’s gaze. “Tane Junior?”

  Tane laughed. “Yeah. Big mistake. He’s a mini-me!” He guffawed like a giant and the boys dissolved into hysterics.

  Staring beyond the laughing males, Leilah held her breath, spotting an item of furniture she recognised. Her father’s bureau nestled along one wall, looking much the same as it had in his meagre homestead. Leilah choked on her food and the child next to her banged her on the back with the rabbit. She thanked him, finding it a ready excuse for the huskiness of her voice and the tears in her eyes and the meal continued. Miriama said he’d salvaged Hector’s belongings and Leilah felt overwhelmed with gratitude.

  Miriama took every opportunity to touch Tane in front of Leilah and the actions seemed forced and extravagant. Leilah looked away, concentrating on her food and Nathan in equal portions, to avoid the embarrassment of the public displays of affection which seemed painfully one-sided. Tane acted oblivious, but Leilah saw it as Miriama staking her claim; just in case Leilah changed her mind.

  “Did you know the school burnt down?” Miriama asked, putting her cutlery together over her half-eaten food. “The news probably didn’t reach Auckland, but it was a big deal for this small town.�
�� The comment flew across the table and speared Leilah.

  “No! How?”

  Tane’s eyes narrowed in regret and Miriama tossed her blonde curls. Her eyes narrowed at Leilah. “Did nobody think to tell you?” she pressed, an agenda behind her words. Leilah heard the question behind the question, seeing the doubt in the woman’s eyes. She’d reclaimed her husband but needed information, desperate to know if he’d contacted Leilah in the intervening years.

  Leilah shook her head. “Who would tell me? I haven’t been near the town in twenty years and nobody stayed in touch. The only person likely to tell me was Dad and he’s been dead almost as long.” She bit her lip, hearing the terseness of her sentence. The mask slipped and she feared if she stayed, she’d give away too much of herself and her personal disappointments with life.

  “Who died?” TJ asked, his eyes wide with fear. “Who died in the fire?”

  “Nobody.” Tane ruffled his hair. “Nobody died in the fire, buddy. Leilah’s daddy died a long time ago.”

  “Your daddy died?” Nathan’s eyes filled with tears. “Will my daddy die?”

  Miriama gave a sigh of exasperation and Leilah rallied to dampen the children’s rising fear. “No, sweetie, your daddy won’t die. Imagine the furthest away thing and then add more years. Not until after that.”

  “After I go to high school?” TJ demanded and she nodded.

  “Definitely after that.”

  “I’m at high school,” the girl said, her face sullen.

  “Great,” Leilah replied, wanting the escalating conversation over. “Who’s gonna help me clear plates?”

  Chapter 24

  Old Habits

  “Can you help me this morning?” Vaughan lay back on the sofa with his shirt undone, the fabric parted to reveal muscular pectorals and a small tuft of hair marking the centre point of his chest.

  “Doing what?” Leilah pursed her lips as she stripped off the damp plasters, finding the plastic tape easier to peel away after his shower. She cleaned the wounds, satisfied with the soft pink skin knitting the two sides together. Only the long, stapled track still looked angry and uncomfortable. “Have you taken your antibiotic this morning?”

  “Yes. I need to work on retraining Hinga. Then I’ve got two kids coming for a riding lesson.”

  “Why do you need me?” Leilah reached for a fresh piece of gauze and tape, pushing the plastic seals aside. “I’ll cover it with this today. It’s probably time to let it breathe but keep it clean.” She placed the gauze over the topmost wound with gentleness and pulled the tape away from its roll.

  “I didn’t say I needed you.” Vaughan’s brow narrowed and his eyes fixed on Leilah’s face with frightening intensity. “I asked if you’d help me.”

  Leilah shrugged. “I might be washing my hair,” she joked, half embarrassed at her wrong assumption.

  Vaughan’s idle fingers reached for a lock of her brown hair as it tumbled against his side, twisting it between thumb and finger. “Your hair is beautiful,” he sighed. “Leave it alone now.”

  Leilah swallowed. “You didn’t like me blonde then?”

  He shook his head with deliberate slowness and let the curl run through his fingers. “It wasn’t you, Leilah. It was some other woman who didn’t belong to this town anymore.” He sighed, his eyes holding hers with uncanny perception. “I’ve missed you.”

  Leilah’s heart thudded in her chest, the unattainable goal swimming before her eyes and then fading into swirling fog. Her girlish crush on Vaughan rose to the surface and she smashed it beneath her feet as she stood with startling abruptness. “I need more antiseptic wipes,” she said and hurried towards the first aid box above the microwave.

  Vaughan’s gaze kept pace with her frantic activity, laying on the sofa like a crowned king with his long dark fringe shuddering in the movement of his eyelashes. “Will you?” he asked and Leilah turned towards him in confusion.

  “Will I what?”

  “Will you help me this morning? I lived by myself last time and bust my staples open trying to do too much physical stuff.”

  “Yes.” Leilah nodded, an exaggerated head movement which sent her long hair dipping and rising below the neckline of her dress. “Yes, of course.”

  Vaughan studied her as she walked towards him with a foil packet of wipes twisting in her fingers. Appreciation budded in his gaze and then disappeared beneath a veneer of nonchalance. “You’ll need to change into farm clothes,” he said.

  “When do you want to start?” Leilah busied herself with familiarity, moving the wipe across the staples with businesslike precision.

  “Soon as you’re ready.” Vaughan winced and Leilah apologised. “I took a look at Hinga last night. She’s pretty messed up. I need to rasp her feet but I’m not sure I can bend like I need to.”

  Leilah sighed. “Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.” She fixed a smile on her lips and involved herself in cutting tape the right length to cover the gauze over the long wound. “When can you drive?” she asked.

  Vaughan shrugged. “It must be soon. I’ve got things to do and people to see.”

  “A woman in every town, hey?” Leilah joked, regretting the words as they left her lips. Vaughan ignored the comment, sitting up to button his shirt across his abdominal muscles.

  “I’ll wait for you outside,” he said.

  Leilah’s hand shook as she removed the couture dress and swapped it for a pair of expensive jeans. Tight fitting and snug, they accentuated the slim line look which stress and misery gave her. She shrugged a tee shirt over her head and then halted at the sight of her bare toes. After the last fiasco with the mare, she needed to be more prepared this time.

  Vaughan sat on the bottom step of the porch watching as Hinga paced the round pen in the distance. “She’s not happy,” he said, flicking at a bug which settled next to him.

  “I don’t have shoes that aren’t strappy,” Leilah said, pressing one foot over the other and biting her lip.

  He turned and stared at the slender feet, Tori’s skillfully applied nail polish making them appear cute. He jerked his head back towards the house. “There’s a cupboard in the laundry. On the top shelf you’ll find a box and some boots in there.”

  Leilah nodded and jogged to the laundry with trepidation in her heart. The wedding photograph rattled on the dresser in the hallway and the woman in the picture stared at Leilah with imagined aggression. “Don’t blame me!” Leilah told her. “If you were here helping your own husband, I wouldn’t have to. Just don’t turn up and find me wearing your boots and get nasty!”

  She felt uncomfortable pulling the short, leather boots over her foot, especially when the left one became stuck above the heel. Vaughan watched her struggle with amusement. “Don’t Aucklanders wear socks?” he asked, his tone facetious.

  “I didn’t bring any!” Leilah snapped. “It’s summer.”

  “But you knew Harvey had a farm,” he laughed. “Did you think it was a clean farm with no animals, or didn’t you plan on getting involved?”

  Leilah stood, hopping around the deck on one foot. “Mention his name one more time and I’ll walk out of here!” she snapped.

  “Don’t you mean, hop?” Vaughan asked. He ran the palm of his right hand across his stomach. “Don’t make me laugh, wahine. I’ll burst something.”

  “Get me socks then!” Leilah demanded, fixing her hands over her hips and pouting. She wobbled sideways, ruining the effect.

  Vaughan shook his head, rose and turned, stepping into the lounge with a careful tread.

  “Take your boots off; I vacuumed!” Leilah said with horror.

  “No, I’m not bending again,” he replied. “It hurt enough the first bloody time.”

  “If you walk crap through the house, you’ll be sorry,” Leilah threatened, a determined set in her jaw.

  Vaughan gave her a rude hand gesture and grinned. “Welcome back, Deleilah. I’ve missed you.”

  “Bloody men!” Leilah huffed, feeling
more of her old self filtering through.

  “Catch!” Vaughan returned quickly, hurling a balled up pair of black socks at her head. Leilah caught the bundle and lifted it to her nose as a gut reaction and he laughed. “They’re clean!” he said and Leilah heard the smile in his voice. “Get a move on, wahine and meet me at the pen.”

  She sat on the porch steps and pulled the socks onto her feet, smelling the scent of floral washing powder. The boots slid over with ease and Leilah stood, testing them for size. A little big, her feet slipped around inside but Vaughan’s thick socks helped. “So, I’m wearing your wife’s boots?” she sighed, stomping across the dusty ground between the house and the pen. “That’s gonna be great if she turns up.”

  “What’re ya moaning about?” Vaughan turned and regarded Leilah with interest as she arrived at the fence, her pretty lips down turned in a sulk.

  “I’m not moaning,” she muttered and caught the slight smile as he glanced away.

  “Get in there,” he said laughing, unlatching the gate and jerking his head at the mare.

  “Yeah, right,” Leilah replied, disbelief beginning in her eyes and finding its way into her chest. “No! Get stuffed, I’m not doing that again. Corey saw my knickers.”

  “Get in, you promised!” Vaughan lurched for Leilah’s arm and his fingers bit into her soft flesh as she resisted. “You promised!” he repeated, sounding indignant.

  “Not by myself!” Leilah slapped at his hand and he reeled her in, squeezing his eyes shut and wincing as his wounds pulled at the tender skin beneath his shirt.

  “Leilah, please.” His words sounded hushed and Vaughan halted for a moment, his jaw working as he stared into her soul. “Please,” he repeated and she held her breath, no longer sure if he begged for help with the horse or something else.

  His fingers ran the length of Leilah’s arm, winding through the soft curls at the back of her neck. She heard him sigh and he moved his lips to her cheek and then her forehead. Leilah’s breath came in ragged gasps as her lungs pushed her chest into his, feeling the taut muscles under his shirt.