The House at Flynn’s Crossing
Elisabeth Rose
www.romance.com.au
The House at Flynn’s Crossing
Elisabeth Rose
She’s been through hell, so risking her heart should be easy...
Anxious to rid herself and her twins of the dark memories from their past, twenty–three–year old Antonia moves to the small rural town of Flynn’s Crossing. Antonia is frightened but determined to be independent for the first time in her life, so she rents Mango House and settles in to the community to begin the process of healing.
Town councillor and local real estate agent Flynn has secrets. Guilt–ridden over a tragic childhood event, he fled the city and devotes his life to assisting others. He has big plans for Flynn’s Crossing. Without change, the town will shrivel and die. But the townspeople are resistant to his ideas, and his discussions with a luxury resort developer.
When Flynn first meets Antonia, he doesn’t know her sensationalised past, and Antonia feels normal for the first time. Slowly, as they get to know each other, to trust each other, Antonia begins to consider the possibility of something more. But when tensions over the resort development reach breaking point, she discovers that Flynn hasn’t been entirely honest, and her new beginning is at risk of ending. When Flynn has to choose between the town he’s devoted his life to and the woman he barely knows, can she trust that the man who healed her heart will treat it with care?
About the author
Multi-published in romance and romantic suspense, writer ELISABETH ROSE lives very happily in Canberra with her musician husband. Travel is a big part of their lives now the family has left home. Elisabeth’s original training was in clarinet performance, but she was also a tai chi instructor for twenty-five years. An avid reader, her preference is for a happy ending regardless of genre and is most annoyed if a main character dies or leaves—unless, of course, it’s the villain.
If you’d like to know more about me, my books, or to connect with me online, you can visit my webpage elisabethrose.com.au or like my Facebook page
www.facebook.com/Elisabethroseauthor.
Acknowledgements
I drew quite a bit on my own accumulated knowledge for this story, but as I often do, called on my daughter Carla for assistance, this time in the legal area concerning trials. She steered me towards a lawyer friend, Matthew Bogunovich, who generously provided lots of information to help with the process and time frame of a conviction.
Thank you to the RWA members for their enthusiastic sharing of information. Someone can always supply the answers to random questions.
As always, thank you to the terrific team at Escape and the wonderful Kate who keeps having faith in my writing.
To Colin, Carla, Nick and Paige
Contents
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing...
Chapter 1
Movement caught Simon’s eye and he turned, straightened and rubbed his lower back, squinting into the bright sun already stinging his skin this early in the day. A woman walked slowly, almost hesitantly along the grassy track from the houses. Something about the way she held herself, the slim body, the long dark hair, tickled his memory.
Lauren, across the other side of the large plot, was still digging holes ready for the new batch of lettuces waiting in trays beside the garden beds. Her wide-brimmed straw hat shaded her face but he knew she would be humming softly to herself, her lips curved in that natural smile, loving every minute spent grubbing about in the rich dark soil, making plants grow, tending and caring for them.
He started along the row to meet the visitor. Lauren hadn’t seen her, too far away, back turned.
After the silverbeet planting was done, he’d have to chip the weeds out between the strawberries. The stormy rain they’d had this week made it easy to plant seedlings but it sure made everything grow, including weeds. Thunderstorms were forecast all week, and if they got hail the new crops would suffer. Fingers crossed. Farming was a perpetual fingers-crossed activity.
The woman came closer and the nervous way she trod through the thick, wet, grass clumps made him think of a deer, timid and fearful. Frightened of him? Why on earth would she be?
‘G’day.’ He smiled. The sun was in his eyes and he raised his hand to block the glare. She came into focus. Something twisted in his gut. He knew her …
‘Simon?’
The world reeled as a rush of memories, guilt, remorse, sorrow and most of all complete and overwhelming amazement sucked the air from his lungs.
‘Antonia! I thought you were dead … we all did … we thought …’ He couldn’t go on.
‘I’m not dead.’ The same voice, the same clear skin and deep brown eyes but now shadowed with a depth of experience she hadn’t had before.
‘Antonia …’ He shook his head, uncomprehending. How could this be? ‘What happened to you?’
‘It’s a long story.’
‘I can’t believe it.’ He reached out a tentative hand then saw his fingers were caked with earth and she was clean and fresh in a pale blue and white summer dress. He grimaced. ‘Sorry. Filthy.’
She smiled and his heart rolled over at the memory. ‘Mum couldn’t stop touching me when I first came back. Checking I was real.’
‘When did you? When was that?’ So many other questions fighting to be asked. He shook his head, still half disbelieving his own eyes and ears. He could understand Robin’s reaction after years of believing her daughter abducted and murdered.
‘Last June. I’m surprised you didn’t read about it or see it on TV.’
Eight months ago. He couldn’t speak, could only shake his head and stare, taking her in from the glossy crown of her head to her feet in purple leather sandals. She was stunning. She’d been seventeen, they both were, when he’d seen her last—just under six years missing. Then, she was a pretty girl; now she was a beautiful woman.
‘We should go in. Talk.’ He gestured at the cluster of cottages she’d walked past.
‘Hello.’ Lauren stood by his side and he hadn’t even noticed her arrive. ‘I’m Lauren.’
‘Hi, I’m Antonia.’
‘I won’t shake hands, I’m all dirty,’ Lauren said. ‘Planting lettuces.’
‘We’re old friends,’ Simon said with an attempt at normal. ‘We went to school together.’
‘Oh, right.’ The way she said it and the way her clear blue eyes studied Antonia implied there should be more said, an explanation for her sudden appearance. Antonia said nothing.
‘We were just going inside for a drink, catch up,’ he said. ‘Coming in?’
Lauren’s gaze swept to him then passed on to the garden, leaving a slight chill in its wake. ‘No, I’d better get these seedlings in. I reckon it’ll rain again this afternoon.’ But she didn’t move.
‘The garden looks good. You must have great soil here.’ Antonia’s soft voice broke the silence.
‘Yes.’ Lauren flicked her a smile. ‘Do you grow vegetables?’
‘I used to. I did. We … where I lived we were almost self-sufficient.’ She seemed to withdraw into herself, face closed, eyes gone b
lank, suddenly years older.
‘Where was that?’ Lauren either didn’t notice or didn’t choose to notice Antonia’s reaction. Unusual for her.
‘South of Sydney.’
‘Come on.’ Simon started walking with this new information churning in his head. South of Sydney? What was she doing there, so close to home and not contacting anyone? Her parents were devastated, her family broke up not long after because of it. All she had to do was pick up the phone and call someone. Instead she left them in limbo. Why would she do that to the people who loved her?
Behind him, Antonia said, ‘Nice to meet you, Lauren.’
‘Likewise.’ But Lauren didn’t sound at all pleased about it. Why the hell not? She was usually friendly and welcoming to everyone and she didn’t know Antonia at all. Maybe she was pissed off because he’d walked out on the planting. He’d finish it later.
Antonia’s quick footsteps brushed the grass in his wake and he slowed to let her catch up. She was different to the girlfriend he’d had at school. That Antonia was bubbly, opinionated, ready to try almost anything, oozing confidence. He’d been besotted, shy and ready to take her lead, amazed she was interested in him at all.
This older, twenty-three-year-old Antonia was quiet, reserved and had a profound air about her more usual in someone much, much older. Where had she been? What had happened to her?
He led her to his cottage, the one at the end of the horseshoe-shaped row closest to the encroaching forest of multi-hued green—trees, creepers, climbing vines, ferns, all flourishing in a tangle of nature at its riotous best. Potted herbs clustered about the door, bright red geraniums climbed the wall. He loved his little A-framed home built of timber, sweat and love. Here, for the first time in his life he felt really and truly comfortable, physically and spiritually.
He pulled open the screen door and held it for her. ‘Go in.’
Antonia stepped silently inside while he yanked off his muddy boots and left them on the step. The laundry and bathroom were in an annexe right next to the entrance and he went in to scrub the mud from his hands and arms and splash water on his face.
When he joined her she was looking at the photos on the wall in the small living area. She lingered in front of his favourite—a close-up of a magnificent tree fern clinging to an ancient eucalypt. Next to it was his shot of an orchid growing delicate and fragile in a jumble of tree litter. He’d tramped the bush for days searching for that flower because Flynn had seen one in the area but wasn’t exactly sure where.
‘These are beautiful.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Did you take them?’ She looked over her shoulder in surprise.
‘Yes. Tea or cool drink?’
‘Cool drink, please.
‘Fresh pineapple and mango juice okay?’
‘Yes, thanks. How come you didn’t read about me?’ she said again. ‘It was a pretty big story.’
Sitting opposite her, holding his own glass, he was barely able to look away. She didn’t seem perturbed by his scrutiny.
‘I don’t read the papers much and I don’t have TV. I can’t believe it’s you,’ he said. ‘What happened to you? You didn’t run away, did you?’
‘No. You knew that … you and Bryony.’ He hadn’t given Bryony a thought since they left school. Antonia’s best friend and the third member of the trio—third member of the pact. She ran her tongue over lips. ‘I was abducted by a man who kept me locked up in a house near Coalcliff.’
‘Coalcliff?’ was all Simon could articulate through the unimaginable horror of what she’d said so baldly.
‘It’s south of Sydney, near Bulli. He had other women there too. And children.’
He swallowed, uncomprehending. ‘But how? Where did he take you from?’ She spoke so calmly. How could she?
‘Outside the abortion clinic. He hung around waiting for girls on their own, like me. He had a woman with him—Hannah. He talked to me and was kind and offered to help and give me a place to stay while I decided what I really wanted to do. Until I said I wanted to go home, then he wasn’t so nice.’
‘My God!’ He couldn’t ask the next question. The answer would be too horrible. ‘I should have gone with you. I should have … I was such a bloody wimp.’
‘Simon, we’d decided, remember? You would have been in too much trouble if our parents found out.’
‘We were so stupid. The three of us. And Bryony and me … when the police asked us questions. We never said … it was unbelievably stupid. Whatever they’d done or said to us wouldn’t have been as bad as what happened to you … I’m so, so sorry.’
‘Simon, I haven’t come to see you because I blame you for what happened. I never thought that, ever …’ She took a mouthful of juice, and to his surprise her hand was shaking as she held the glass. A worm of suspicion began squirming deep in his gut.
‘Were you abducted before or after you went in to the clinic?’ he asked slowly.
She looked him in the eye. ‘Before. He wanted our babies so he could imagine he had a family.’ Her lip curled in her first show of disgust for the monster who’d stolen her. ‘He was sterile. He had … sexual problems.’
‘Was he violent?’ he whispered.
She nodded. ‘But not with the children. I think I would have found a way to kill him if he’d harmed them.’
He swallowed. She continued to stare into his eyes, waiting for him to acknowledge what she’d told him.
‘Am I a father?’ His voice was hoarse.
Another nod. ‘Twins.’
‘Twins?’
She sat frozen in place while he digested the news and it dawned on him with a chill that she was petrified. She’d lived with a man who used violence to express himself and she didn’t know how he would react.
She’d hit him with a triple whammy and he could hardly speak, but anger wasn’t anywhere in the whirlpool of emotions he was feeling. He slumped back into the cushions on the cane chair. ‘Twins? That’s … amazing.’
The tension leaked out of her body. ‘Sarah and Jacob. They’re five.’
‘I’m the father of twins! What are they like? Have you got a picture? Where are they?’ A horrible thought struck him. ‘They’re okay, aren’t they? The birth was okay?’
‘It wasn’t much fun, but yes, they’re beautiful.’ She pulled an iPad from her bag and showed him a photo. Two small, dark-haired children gazed solemnly at him. Jacob was the image of himself at the same age.
‘I looked like that when I was five.’ A crazy laugh bubbled up from nowhere. ‘My God, I can’t believe it. Where are they now?’
‘Staying with Mum in Sydney. I came here on my own.’
‘They’re beautiful. Perfect. But …’ He looked up quickly. ‘I thought you didn’t want to have the baby back then, that you’d made up your mind. How come you went with him?’
‘I’ve wondered that too, many times.’ A tiny smile. ‘I wish I’d done everything differently.’ She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. ‘It was a hard thing to do, walk into the clinic. Such a big step when I actually got there. He knew that and took advantage. And Hannah was there. She was … reassuring.’
Simon nodded. ‘I should have gone with you.’
‘Don’t,’ she said softly. ‘If you had I wouldn’t have my children. Our children.’
Looking at her now, he saw what was so different. She was a mother and being a mother trumped any hardship, deprivation and abuse she suffered after the children were born.
She took another mouthful of juice. ‘This is lovely.’
‘We have our own fruit here. How did you get away from that crazy guy?’
‘Dad and Jax, remember her from school? She saw me quite by chance when I was with him at Central Station. He used to take me or Hannah along to try to abduct a new girl. We’d hang out with the anti-abortion protesters. Jax told Dad and the police. He never gave up looking for me. They rescued us, all of us.’
‘Wow. Unbelievable.’ Her father Connor was a b
ig, quiet man but with expectations of his daughter she rebelled against. Simon had kept out of his way.
‘Dad didn’t think I should just front up and dump this on you but … I wasn’t sure how else to tell you. Jax said I should do what I felt was right. They’re getting married,’ she added. ‘She’s good for Dad.’
‘What are you doing? I mean where are you living?’
‘Hannah and her kids and I share a place but I’d like to move out of the city. She wants to stay.’
Her unspoken words hung in the air. Was that why she’d come here? She wanted to move in with him?
‘Where would you go?’ The reticence in his voice shamed him even as he spoke.
‘Simon, I haven’t come here to ask you to take us in and I don’t want money from you.’ He began to protest but she shook her head and continued in her quiet, slightly hesitant voice, so unlike the bold girl he remembered. ‘I thought you should know about your children, and if you wanted to I thought you could meet them. I’d like them to know their father—their real father.’
‘God yes! Absolutely I want to meet them.’ He couldn’t let those little innocents think that insane perverted monster was their father. ‘I’d love to. And I want to help financially.’ Not that he could do much dollar-wise but there was no way she should be coping with this by herself.
‘Thanks, Simon. Mum and Dad have been generous, helping me and the kids but I want...’ She looked at the empty glass in her hand and put it on the table. ‘Do you think I could stay in the town for a bit? Rent somewhere? I thought I could find a place, maybe get a job.’ Again the doubtful tone, the fear of being smacked down.
‘What sort of work?’ He’d have to rethink the Antonia he knew before. This girl was tentative, unsure of herself, unsure of her place in the world and the reaction she would get when she voiced an opinion. That bastard!
‘Maybe in a cafe. Cooking. I like that and I’m good at it. Or waitressing … anything.’
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