Under Hidden Skies (Shadows Between Lies Book 3)

by Nicky Webber

  ‘Just between the two of you and me…’ Maddy started after taking the first sip.

  Logan and Fred exchanged looks. Clearly, neither of them knew anything.

  ‘Totally confidentially,’ she continued, ‘or Hawke will murder me.’

  ‘What?’ said Fred. ‘Have you talked to him since Tuesday?’

  ‘No,’ came Maddy’s definitive response. ‘But I’ve had a lengthy online chat with Sacha.’

  ‘Well, spit it out,’ said Logan, already over the suspense.

  ‘You both have to promise to act surprised when they tell you themselves.’

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Fred asked.

  Maddy wiped her hands on the dishcloth and picked up her wine. ‘Here’s a toast,’ she said, holding her wineglass on high. Both men looked confused, but followed suit, raising their glasses.

  ‘To our children,’ announced Maddy. ‘especially Hawke and Sacha who are officially lovers!’

  Both men gasped in unison. ‘You’re joking… I hope,’ said Logan.

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ said Maddy in all seriousness. ‘That’s why I was so long on the call to Sacha last night. I was trying to explain that her relationship with Hawke was nothing short of incestuous.’

  ‘Don’t be alarmist,’ said Fred, rubbing his open hand over his bald head and looking into his glass. ‘Hawke is so young, way too young for her.’

  ‘Not young enough!’ Maddy shot back. She regarded Logan, who looked stunned by this information. ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

  He inhaled but had nothing to say as he tried to process the implications of this unfortunate union which blurred genetic thresholds. An unholy confluence of genetic constraint would now need to be conveyed to the pair. Neither adult had considered or prepared for the remote possibility of the complexities in this genetic merger. Logan immediately registered that, after all these years of deceit, it would be Fred who would have to be informed and suffer the heart-breaking reality of Hawke’s true paternity.

  ‘Let’s not get too worked up; they’re young. They’ve been on holiday sharing a house together. This was always going to be the most likely outcome,’ said Fred, applying his logic and pragmatic take on the obvious.

  ‘So what’s going on? Are they both going to stay in Auckland then?’ Logan finally asked Maddy.

  ‘I guess for now,’ she said with a heavy sigh.

  ‘Why not come home? There are jobs here, and he can get deep into his career in the financial sector. What the hell does he hope to achieve by working in New Zealand?’ Fred asked, exasperated. ‘It makes little sense. Neither of them is thinking straight. I’ll give Hawke a call in the morning.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing, Fred Davis!’ Maddy’s voice was loud and immovable. ‘Both of you made a promise, and we’re all going to stick to it.’

  ‘It’s probably a crazy summer holiday hangover thing,’ said Logan, willing it to be only that and nothing more.

  After dinner, Fred went into the garage to continue fixing the lawn mower he had pulled apart the previous weekend, leaving Logan and Maddy alone.

  They sat in silence, mulling over the possibilities, the infinite permutations of a relationship borne in a lie that had lasted over 28 years.

  ‘I never in their wildest ramifications and considerations expected the impact of our affair to cause ongoing misery for the next generation,’ Maddy started. ‘Frankly, it makes me feel sick.’

  Logan shook his head in disbelief. ‘How could we have ever known that our son would fall in love with one of my daughters!’

  ‘What do we do?’ Maddy asked, lost for words and worse, realizing there was no straightforward solution.

  ‘It’s crazier than fiction. You wouldn’t read about it.’ his voice still heavy with disbelief.

  ‘Really Logan. Who the hell cares?’ Maddy got irritated. ‘ It no longer matters, but what does, is how we break the news to Hawke and Sacha that they need to quit their relationship.’

  Logan sighed and looked at Maddy, who had covered her face with her hands. ‘We’ll have to front up and tell Fred too.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she responded.

  ‘We’ll both talk to him. We have to,’ Logan stated.

  They continued discussing the issue and could hear the occasional noise from Fred in the garage. Logan and Maddy agreed that the connection between their offspring can never proceed. Both fell silent.

  Maddy changed the topic and gives both her and Logan time to consider the implications. She heard the subtle turn of the door handle and knew Fred would soon reappear. She was first to break the silent impasse.

  ‘Did the neighbors keep you awake again last night?’ she asked, as Fred walked back into the room.

  He strode past the pair at the dining table, wiping his grease-covered hands with an old rag. Unusual for Fred, but he sensed the tension in the room and jumped in, relieved the conversation was shifting. He had already decided that talking to Hawke was the best option. Fred could determine if his son had considered the impacts of this private liaison. Getting the logic in without Maddy objecting was another issue, but it was worth the risk. Hawke was not thinking straight. At that age, who is, he thought to himself.

  ‘I’m over it. We’ve done everything we can,’ Fred interrupted as he moved towards the dining table where the other two sat. They looked sullen somehow, but he carried on talking, believing the neighbors were a perfect distraction and needed dealing with once and for all.

  Logan heaved a sigh, grateful to get stuck into a well-worn subject that would unify all three of them. ‘We’ve talked to them. Hell, I’ve even pleaded with them, to keep the noise down.’

  ‘So much for the sound insulation,’ Maddy said. ‘All that expense, and now we hear the repetitive thumping of the base throughout the house. It’s almost worse than listening to the actual music at 2 am.’

  ‘The police don’t give a damn,’ Logan said.

  ‘Yeah, we need to get serious and frighten them. Put a lid on the endless weekends of loud partying. The entire neighborhood has had enough.’

  The ensuing discussion ranged from shoving a potato up the exhaust pipes of the cars parked in the street to spray painting the neighbors surrounding boundary wall as if young Yahoos had randomly targeted them. This idea got instantly vetoed, as it meant the party-goers would probably stay the night when they discovered their cars wouldn’t start. The trio entertained one another, joking and laughing about all the wild and outrageous things they could do to make the neighbors’ lives miserable and force them to move.

  Fred suggested shoveling a massive dog turd into the neighbors’ Jacuzzi on their backyard porch, where most of the late-night noise and shrieking took place. All three loved this idea, but the practical consideration met with frustrated silence.

  ‘Too risky,’ announced Logan. ‘You’ll end up with the award for the most likely to be caught in the act.’

  No one said a word as the three adults chewed over their options.

  Suddenly, Fred jumped out of his seat. ‘I’ve got a genius idea! Two brilliant ideas that’ll put the pressure on those bastards.’

  ‘Please tell me we will not end up on social media as the neighbors from hell?’ implored Maddy. Subversive ideas had often been Fred’s relaxing pastime, amusing everyone with what he wished he could do.

  ‘I’ll log into an online adult sex shop and purchase some kind of toy, along with a gift note from a hooker,’ Fred stated. He held up his hand as the other two spoke. ‘Hang on. Hear me out. I’ll set up a fake Hotmail account and use their address and have it delivered in a plain package. If the wife gets the parcel first, she’s going to be opening it. He’ll have a lot of explaining to do.’ he laughed.

  Logan grinned, and Maddy smiled uneasily. ‘Come on, Fred, what’s that going to achieve?’ Logan asked.

  ‘Plenty of tension between husband and wife for a start. We can order pizzas and other stuff to be delivered there and create more stress. B
ut to ramp the pressure up, I’ll get a .303 bullet and write the initials of both their names on it and leave it in their mailbox after next Saturday night’s weekly rave. That’s gotta creep them out.’ Fred sat back, pleased with his plan, and crossed his arms across his chest, looking from his wife to his best friend. ‘Well, what do you two think?’

  ‘It’s the kind of thing a criminal gang would do,’ Fred continued, explaining to the stunned silence of the pair. ‘If we keep up a string of subversive, below-the-line harassment they will soon realize they have to get the hell out of Dodge! I’ve got plenty more ideas where that came from too.’

  ‘Come on, Fred,’ Logan said, sounding slightly exasperated. ‘They’ll trace it back to us. The Police have already told them we’re the culprits that have been complaining. If anything goes down, they’ll immediately think it’s us.’

  ‘It’ll be non-traceable and, to cover our tracks, I’ll be encouraging the others in the street to lodge a noise complaint with the Police next weekend too. It’ll look like the incidents could come from any of us,’ Fred elaborated, feeling he had the world under control. After a year of continuous torment from the noisy next-door losers they would have to tolerate a few more months of focussed counter-terrorism to ensure a positive result.

  Logan cleared his throat and looked from Maddy back to Fred. ‘Let’s sleep on it and work out the logistics and make damn sure this can work. We’ll talk again in the morning.’

  Fred poured another glass of wine for each of them and changed the subject. ‘What about Sacha? Is she ever going to finish her course and get fully qualified?’

  ‘I’ll have to talk some sense into her,’ came Logan’s response. ‘We need to find out exactly what their future plans are. I think they need to get back home so we can talk face to face.’

  ‘Did Hawke say something to you?’ asked Maddy, holding Logan’s blue eyes with hers, concentrating on observing any flicker of deception. But he shrugged and said, ‘Why do you think he high-tailed it to the backblocks of New Zealand?’

  ‘Ummm, I’m thinking it was all an escape plan, and maybe Sacha and Hawke planned the whole thing. The recovery from his illness was just a ploy for the two of them to shack up together,’ Maddy said, drawing both men back to the original conversation.

  Native birdsong woke Sacha from a nightmare of being chased, only to realize that the pain of her hangover was her real tormentor. She rolled over and faced Hawke, somehow rolled up in the bedsheets, his stubble-face and wide-open mouth snoring loudly in competition with the birds outside. Sacha peered at her cell phone and took a double-take. It was almost lunchtime!

  She turned back to her semi-conscious boyfriend and gently shoved his shoulder. ‘Wake up! We’ve missed church, and it’s almost Monday!’

  He groaned and slowly dragged himself and his pounding head into the bathroom. It took them both about two hours to feel even close to normal. A couple of coffees and eggs on toast made the most difference, rounded off with several headache pills. Finally, they could string a reasonable sentence together.

  Too shattered to do much, Sacha and Hawke spent the afternoon on the old couch, each at opposite ends, massaging one another’s naked feet. They chatted and chuckled at the events of the previous night and wondered how Trader was coping in the cold light of day.

  The conversation shifted to their original desire to remain in New Zealand, and if this was still a practical solution. They both needed to earn good money and find a permanent place to live. Both agreed that persuading their parents about this future strategy would be the most significant obstacle.

  Hawke and Sacha had applied for jobs over the past couple of weeks and were working out ways to upgrade their tourist visa to a work visa. After some assurance from Peter and Anne that it was easy enough to achieve, as long as they could get a job offer first, had spurred them into action.

  ‘I’ve got an interview with that Charitable Trust I spoke about last week,’ announced Hawke proudly.

  ‘Really? That’s amazing,’ smiled Sacha, spooning fresh fruit into her mouth as her bare feet rested on Hawke’s lap.

  ‘Yeah, incredible,’ he said, stopping the foot massage to talk in more detail. Sacha wriggled her toes to encourage him to continue. ‘They’re a large global charity with massive corporate sponsorship. A lot from South East Asia and China,’ he continued, watching her eat.

  ‘Wow and double Wow,’ smiled Sacha. ‘When’s the interview?‘

  ‘It’s up in Auckland on the 17th, so I thought we could drive up there,’ said Hawke, ‘and check out the accommodation and the city with a bit more commitment and focus.’ He continued stroking the top of her feet.

  ‘By the way, Dad called me and left a message,’ Sacha said, looking down at her empty bowl. ‘He wants to know what my plans are for qualifying and finishing my studies.’

  Hawke nodded, breathing in deeply and running his hands down her shins to her ankles. ‘You know I think we need to come clean with all three of them and explain what’s going on and what we plan to do.’

  ‘No!’ said Sacha emphatically. ‘We have to keep our relationship under wraps until we both have jobs and settle in.

  ‘What does it matter?’ asked Hawke. He lifted his hands, open-palmed in front of him, in a signal of supplication, and shook his head.

  ‘I think they’re going to give us a hard time. We need no more complications while we’re sorting out our lives.’ Sacha said. ‘They’re motivated about getting us back to California, back to the home fires to appease those three empty-nesters.’ She thought Maddy was probably the only person she could trust. She hoped.

  They both chuckled. ‘Talk about the job front,’ Sacha said, ‘but whatever you do, don’t mention our relationship. Remember, we are just good friends.’

  ‘Sure,’ Hawke responded, already feeling uneasy about lying to his parents.

  CHAPTER 13

  Homeward Bound

  After several weeks of interviews and frustrating job hunting, no one would sponsor the pair for a two-year work visa. They couldn’t work without a work visa, and can’t get a work visa without a job. Gradually they realized they would have to put their dream of being New Zealand citizens on hold. But they both promised one another that they would return and pursue work to attain permanent residence. Over the coming weeks, they let go of the dream and packed up to return home.

  Four months later, Hawke was sitting in the dove-gray living room, the neutral territory of his parents’ Santa Monica home, talking alone to Fred over a couple of afternoon beers.

  ‘How’s the new job going?’ Fred asked his son. ‘I mean, it’s worked out well how quickly you landed that investment company job. It looks like a win-win from here.’

  ‘I guess,’ said Hawke in a non-committal tone.

  ‘Look, son, you would’ve worked for a few years there, far away from the serious cut and thrust of global business and come back here only to realize you have to start at the bottom rung all over again.’

  ‘Yup. I get it,’ said Hawke, mildly irritated. They had gone over this ground several times, slicing and dicing the outcome his parents wanted.

  ‘But I still miss the open, calm lifestyle back in New Zealand. It’s a special place, and I hope I can get back there to live someday.’

  ‘You’ll see in time that you made the right decision. Are you settling in with the girls?’ Fred asked, attempting to sound casual when he was really on a fishing expedition.

  Sacha and Hawke had moved back in with Suzie and Bruno sharing an apartment in Anaheim. Sharing the rent meant they could save money and invest later in a house or another overseas travel adventure.

  ‘Yeah, it’s going well,’ he replied, not wanting to go down this rabbit hole, either. Sacha and Hawke had talked about getting engaged, and now that they were living together, both Suzie and Bruno were well aware of their committed relationship. Hawke had argued with Sacha that it was only a matter of time before the proverbial was out of the bag. H
e felt convinced their parents would learn more details and contribute their inevitable criticism about their relationship.

  Hawke gazed around the room, and his eyes rested on an old black-and-white photograph positioned on the bookshelves opposite. It was a picture of his grandmother, Vida Hawkins, the surname they named him after. Her dark wavy hair, trimmed into a neat bob, she looked about 30 years old, with a smile, almost a laugh, gracing her open mouth and sparkling eyes. He couldn't believe that this beautiful young woman clutching a bunch of wildflowers in one hand and a tennis ball in the other had been his grandmother.

  ‘What about your new contract, Dad?’ Hawke asked, breaking away from memory and attempting to divert Fred from his course. ‘Mom says you’re pretty pleased with yourself.’

  ‘Does she now?’ Fred rolled his eyes. He had only just signed the employment contract as the senior IT Programmer with CashGuard only two weeks earlier. ‘The money’s okay, and the job’s very doable. The guys there are friendly enough, but its early days.’

  Hawke snorted. ‘I try to keep out of office politics. Seen a few heads roll over corporate machinations recently.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Fred asked, appearing keenly interested. ‘What sort of stuff?’

  ‘There was some bullshit about a hacker attempting to break into our systems a week ago,’ Hawke said. ‘Man, did things heat up fast.’

  The conversation delved into the technical minutiae of the ways an outsider, with a few sharp IT skills, could jump the firewall and access the cash management processes.

  ‘We have over seven billion in investor funds worldwide, so security has to be tight. It is, but not tight enough, it seems,’ Hawke said.

  ‘Yeah, that’s the part I’m doing and managing restrictions on money laundering processes, too. I didn’t know transactions like this get regularly reported to the police.’ Fred raised his eyebrows. ‘Imagine the volume going through the banking systems nationwide, and any cash amount, especially ones that look dodgy, get flagged to the SEC or the Fraud unit at the FBI.’

  ‘Really?’ Intrigued, Hawke wanted to understand the details, which Fred happily conveyed. They drank another cold beer, and the conversation ebbed and flowed more easily between them than it had for many years.