Riverstone Ridge

by Mandy Magro

  The curtain flew open again and this time Nate stepped in with her. There was a first time for everything, but her privacy felt invaded, and she abruptly began to feel like she couldn’t breathe, as if he were suffocating her with the damn pillows he’d so haphazardly placed on her bed. A spark of annoyance rushed through her. He was getting a little bit too comfortable, and too close for her comfort. And she didn’t like it. Not one little bit.

  ‘So you keen?’ He looked hopeful.

  She knew exactly what he meant, but played ignorant as she shampooed her hair into a foamy frenzy. ‘For what?’

  ‘Dinner?’

  Alarm exploded inside her and she mentally tried to shake the sensation off. ‘Oh, I can’t tonight. I’m busy.’

  ‘I thought you hadn’t thought that far ahead, so how could you have something else on?’ His tone was laced with something she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

  ‘I forgot I was busy.’

  ‘Right, well, how about tomorrow night then?’

  ‘I think I’ve got a thing on.’ She squeezed past him and stood beneath the spray of warm water, staying busy by rinsing her hair before grabbing her bottle of conditioner.

  ‘Oh, do you? And what thing might that be?’ His questioning gaze was searching hers.

  She rubbed her conditioner in, and then shook her head. ‘Nate, please stop. I can’t, we can’t … I …’ Damn it, where were her usual nerves of steel when she damn well needed them?

  ‘Okay, I get it … you’re just not that into me.’ He laughed it off but she could see the flash of hurt in his coffee-coloured eyes.

  Feeling awful, she reached out and gave his arm a squeeze. ‘It’s not you, Nate, it’s me.’

  ‘Oh for god’s sake, I reckon that that’s even worse, the whole it’s-not-you-it’s-me spiel.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but it’s the truth.’ Eyes closed now, more to stop from seeing the hurt she was causing than keeping the conditioner she was rinsing out of her eyes. ‘Besides, you knew that from the get-go, and you agreed that’s how you felt about this too, so what’s changed now?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Me?’ She wiped the water from her face.

  ‘Yeah, I can’t help it, you’re addictive, Nina Jones, and I want more of you, more of the time.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t give that to you.’ She wasn’t interested in getting into a relationship, especially with an accountant who was allergic to a day spent in jeans and a t-shirt.

  ‘All good, hey … forget I even mentioned it.’ He shook his head and turned his back to her. ‘Just consider this a moment of delirium caused by a bit of a hangover,’ he added, while facing the wall.

  ‘I’m sorry, Nate. I really am.’ And she genuinely was.

  Rinsing the last of the soap off, Nina left him to shower. She quickly dried off, got dressed in her usual black skirt and t-shirt in the blink of an eye, and then made a beeline for her coffee maker. Flicking the radio on, she welcomed the distraction of Pink’s latest hit as she made them both a coffee to-go. His belly now full, Tom curled himself around her ankles, purring.

  The soft scent of soap followed Nate into the kitchen nook. ‘Feel better after a shower?’ Nina avoided his eyes for fear of giving in to his dinner offer.

  ‘Muchly, thanks.’ He leant against the bench beside her. ‘I’m sorry I put you in that awkward position. I know what this is, and I shouldn’t be pushing the boundaries just because I want more.’ He sighed. ‘You’ve been upfront and honest the entire way, Nina, and I appreciate it.’

  ‘All good in the hood.’ With a smile, she passed him his coffee. ‘We don’t need to speak of it again.’

  ‘Good. Great.’ He brushed a kiss on her cheek. ‘Catch you sometime this week, at the bar?’ He turned and walked away from her.

  ‘Sounds like a very good non-plan plan,’ she called after him, as he headed for the front door, grabbed his keys and jacket from the entrance table, and then with one last look over his shoulder, vanished.

  ‘Oh thank goodness that’s over with,’ she breathed. Hooking her handbag over her shoulder, she grabbed the keys to her beloved Jeep Wrangler, slipped on her trusty super-soft black work shoes and then raced out the front door. ‘I’ll see you back here later, matey, okay?’ she called to Tom.

  Tom meowed a reply, and then with a swish of his tail, jumped up on the couch to get comfy for the day. Nina smiled as she shut the door and rushed to the lift. Tom was her perfect male companion … easygoing, uncomplicated, and certainly not needy. She felt bad turning down Nate’s offer of dinner, but she also had to be honest with herself, and Nate. Yes, maybe Aunty Bea was right in saying she might end up a lonely old spinster with only a cat for company, but there was only one thing to do when confronted with such a painful reality: deny, deny and then deny some more.

  Driving out of her quiet suburban street and towards the pub she’d worked at in Fortitude Valley for twelve years – after eight years spent travelling the globe as a backpacker – she hit the highway and drove into the absolute nightmare of rush hour. With cars bumper to bumper, she almost pulled to a standstill. Shoving the last bite of her brunch on the run – a chocolate and orange protein bar – into her mouth, she propelled the wrapper into the little rubbish bag she always had hanging from her gearstick. Hopeful she’d make up for lost time by exceeding the speed limit just a little, she smacked the steering wheel and huffed for what felt like the hundredth time in a matter of minutes. If she got out and walked to work, it would be faster.

  Surrendering to the traffic jam, she put her Jeep into park, quickly texted her boss to say she was going to be late, before settling in for the wait. Grabbing her water bottle, she took a swig, grimacing because it had gone hot overnight, while at the same time pondering her life. She constantly lived on borrowed time, in a borrowed apartment, and was driving a car bought with borrowed money. Since leaving Riverstone Ridge almost twenty years ago, at first she’d tried to run away from her problems by jumping on a plane, her entire life in a backpack and only enough money in her pocket to get her from one job to the next. She hopped from country to country, but when that got old, she’d dedicated her life to trying to get ahead, but had never seemed to be able to. There was always another bill, another unbudgeted dilemma. It was frustrating to say the very least – but it was the life of many, especially in the big cities.

  Hearing Bea’s voice of reason in her head, Nina knew she had to try and remain grateful for what she did have, instead of focusing on what she didn’t. Recalling leaving a voicemail message for her aunt yesterday morning, asking her to call her back, Nina wondered why Bea hadn’t. It was very unlike her not to respond. Grabbing her mobile from the centre console, she asked Siri to dial Riverstone Ridge’s number. On hands-free mode, it rang through her speakers – five rings – before it went to the message bank.

  ‘Hey, Aunty Bea, it’s me again, your favourite daughter in the whole wide world. I left a voicemail yesterday too, but you must have gotten sidetracked. I hope everything’s okay? Ring me back as soon as you can, so I don’t worry myself stupid. Love you to the moon and back.’ Sighing, she hung up.

  Something unnerving settled in Nina’s gut. If she hadn’t heard back by tonight, she’d make a point to ask one of her aunt’s CWA friends to go and check in on her. With the horse agistment farm being a twenty-minute drive from town, a neighbour would be an easier bet, but there was no way, after all these years of no contact, she was going to call Logan Steele and ask a favour. Uh-uh. Nope. Definitely not.

  * * *

  Almost an hour later, and with her boss only a little peeved she was late, Nina passed the unsavoury-looking bloke across the bar another two rum and cokes, and he passed her a twenty. Giving him his change, she watched him make his way back over to the designated smoking area and plonk back down on a stool near the pool tables. The very pregnant woman he was with stubbed out her cigarette and then couldn’t get the drink he passed over to her down her throat fast enough. Lo
oking away, Nina muffled a jumble of expletives – the woman’s blatant disregard for her unborn baby was beyond her comprehension. She could only imagine what kind of life the poor child was going to be born into. Although, in the grand scheme of things, who was she to judge after some of the life decisions she’d made?

  In a moment of weakness, Nina allowed her painful secret to plague her, and her heart did its usual excruciating squeeze. Many times over, she’d tried to forgive herself, tried to somehow rid herself of the shame she’d carried within her heart and soul every waking day for what she’d done, but no amount of praying, or meditating, or seeking out gurus and healers had sufficed. So, she’d done the only thing she could, and pushed it to the wayside and gotten on with life. Not living, per se, but existing. It was the best she could do, and the only thing she knew how to do well – deny and distract. Life moves on, and she had to move with it. Focusing on the past did her no favours. No favours at all.

  In four months’ time, it would be twenty years since the only life she’d ever known had blown to dust, but still, to this day, pieces of her everyday life in the city were still so foreign. She was yet to shake the yearnings for the country that her soul had once called home. Sure, every Christmas since she’d been back in Australia, when Bea would arrive at the Brisbane airport – clothes smelling of lemon myrtle, horses, leather and earth – she would feel a little closer as they curled up on the lounge suite, their bellies full of the lamb roast and plum pudding they’d cooked together, glass of red wine in hand, singing old Johnny Cash and Willie Nelson tunes. But she never had had the courage to actually step foot back at Riverstone Ridge. As much as her heart ached to do so, there was just way too much to stay away from.

  And so, as hard as it had been, for both herself and Bea, and still was, she did just that.

  Stayed the hell away.

  On the odd occasion, she would catch herself questioning her choices and pondering the what ifs of a different decision, but it was too late now – too late to turn back, too late to make right the wrong she’d made all those years ago. If only she knew back then what she did now, maybe things might have worked out better. But then again, with her run of bad luck, maybe they would have worked out way worse. There was no sense in hindsight – it was an absolute bitch.

  From her usual place behind the bar, she heaved a weary sigh. Never in her wildest dreams did she ever envision her life would end up like this – a single thirty-seven-year-old woman, living in a rental property – a squishy little studio apartment at that – in the middle of the chaotic metropolis of Brisbane. But, here she was, with the brutal truth of her life staring her right in the face. And it hurt.

  Deep in thought, the ring of the cordless phone near the till made her jump. She snatched it up. ‘Jasper’s Tavern, Nina speaking.’

  ‘Is this Nina Jones?’ an unfamiliar man’s voice asked.

  ‘Yes, it is. Who’s this?’ The phone clutched between her shoulder and her ear, she started putting the dirty glasses one of her waitresses had just gathered into the dishwasher.

  ‘You may not have heard about me, but my name is William Jones.’

  She straightened, her attention snatched from the boozy world around her. ‘Jones?’

  ‘Yes, Nina. I’m Beatrice’s older brother.’

  ‘She has briefly mentioned you a few times, but said you hadn’t really talked in years – didn’t ever really tell me why, though.’ This was very strange. Panic rose in her chest.

  ‘Beatrice had her reasons,’ William said, a little nervously.

  Nina slowly shook her head and drew in a steady breath. ‘Had her reasons? What do you mean had?’

  There was another deep breath as he collected himself. ‘The reason for my call … I’m so sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Nina, but …’ There was another pause as he cleared his throat.

  Nina instinctively readied herself for the verbal blow before it hit.

  ‘… Beatrice passed away early this morning.’ William’s voice sounded hollow, as if an echo.

  Stunned, speechless, and with her heart hammering, Nina found it impossible to string two words together. She didn’t want to believe this man. It couldn’t be true. She didn’t want to – refused to – acknowledge what he’d just said. Not now. Not ever.

  ‘She had cancer, Nina,’ William added. ‘It all happened very quickly.’

  It was blunt, to the point, but said so softly. The man was broken.

  Cancer? No. Impossible. Another emotional punch to her chest, Nina sucked in a sharp breath as her trembling hand went over her mouth. ‘But I only spoke to her a couple of days ago when I called to tell her I’d booked her air tickets to come down for Christmas … this has to be a mistake, or some sick joke.’ Her protective denial-mode kicked in. ‘Who the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, Nina, but this is no mistake, and no joke. Beatrice found out she had bowel cancer four months ago, but it was too far gone to get treatment, so being the strong-willed woman she was, she just did her best to tough out the last few months …’ His voice broke and he took a few short moments to regather. ‘But as hard as she fought, I’m afraid the cancer finally got the better of her …’ William continued to speak, but his words became white noise, as though he was millions of light-years away.

  Nina choked back one sob after another. Her beautiful Aunty Bea wasn’t dead. She didn’t have cancer. She was as fit as a fiddle, or so Bea had told her when she’d mentioned she’d sounded a bit off on the phone a few days ago. How could Bea not tell her such a thing? She didn’t even get to say goodbye. For a fleeting moment, Nina was angry at the fact and then torn by the realisation that she hadn’t been there for Bea in her time of need, and that she’d never get to hear her voice or get to tell her she loved her, ever again.

  ‘Nina, are you still there?’ William’s tone was tender, gentle.

  ‘Yes, sorry, I’m still here.’ She breathed labouredly, while desperately trying to get some sort of grip on reality. Grabbing hold of the bar, she fought to stay standing. With heavy tears blurring her vision and her legs like jelly, she retreated into the back office and closed the door behind her. ‘When’s the funeral?’ The question felt heavy, brutal.

  ‘Yes, about that … I’m afraid there won’t be one.’

  ‘If it’s because of the cost, I’ll pay for it.’ Nina had no idea how she would, but she’d find a damn way. She’d work back-to-back shifts if it came down to it.

  ‘No, it’s not because of the cost. If that were the case, I’d be digging in my pocket, that’s for certain.’ He paused, fleetingly. ‘You know Beatrice, she didn’t want a fuss made of her when she was alive, and she felt the same about when she went, so she’s organised to be cremated this afternoon, with strict instructions to give you her ashes to spread at Riverstone Ridge when you felt the time was right.’

  ‘Oh …’ Crushed, devastated, forlorn, Nina found herself torn between wanting to go back to her childhood home one last time, to say a final goodbye to Bea, and the heartbreaking reason she’d run from it all those years ago. She was terrified of going back to Riverstone Ridge, especially without Bea there to welcome her with open arms, but she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t pay her respects, somehow, someway.

  ‘Beatrice has left everything to you, Nina – Riverstone Ridge, her savings – so you’ll have to come to a decision as to whether you’re going to make it your home, or, on the other hand, organise the sale of it. We will also have to find homes for all her animals, if you do in fact choose to put it on the market.’

  ‘I … um …’ Nina hadn’t even stopped to think that far, the crushing heartache too real, too raw, for such things. ‘She left me … everything?’ She chewed on her stubby fingernails.

  ‘Of course she did. You were her world, Nina. And there’s something else too … Bea has left you five letters, with firm instructions to only give you one when you arrive, and one every week thereafter, so you may need to pack for a month, if you
want to know what she’s written in them.’

  Nina paced now, too scared, too devastated, to stand still. ‘I just can’t believe she’s gone.’ The sobs finally broke and the heavy tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped at them with the back of her hand and fought to keep it together. As scared as she was, of what she’d run from all those years ago, she needed to pull on her big-girl boots – she had to do this, for Bea. It was the very least she could do. ‘Okay, I’ll be there in the next couple of days.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it, Nina.’ William heaved a thankful sigh. ‘Jot my number down and call me once you know your movements. I’ll be here to meet with you when you arrive. Okay?’

  ‘Yes, okay, thank you.’ Nina grabbed a pen.

  William read his number out, twice, and she wrote it down on a coaster snatched from her pocket.

  ‘Once again, I’m so sorry, Nina.’ William sniffled as though wiping his own tears at the other end of the line. ‘I know how close you and Beatrice were.’

  ‘Yes, we were,’ she choked out.

  ‘Talk again soon, okay?’ His voice was so full of compassion, it almost brought her to her knees.

  ‘Okay, bye, William.’

  As the phone call ended, she did just that, and fell to her knees. Her past now seemed more precious than ever, no matter the secret she and Bea had kept. Sorrow twisted around her heart, squeezing painfully, interfering with every beat, every breath. Dropping her head in her hands, she rocked back and forth on her heels, the guttural sobs rising from deep within her heart and soul. Bea had been all she’d had left, the only link to her former self, the only living soul who knew her inside and out, warts and all, along with all of her secrets. And still, Bea had loved her regardless of her faults, regardless of her choice to run from Riverstone Ridge, and now, she was gone, just like that.

  Forever.

  CHAPTER