Heart of the Cross

by Emily Madden

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘I’m sorry … for how I walked out this morning.’

  There was a pause that ran a beat longer than she expected. His response told her all she needed to know.

  ‘Coffee was only four bucks. I owe you a dollar.’ Josh hung up before she could say another word.

  Brie sighed. When Josh was pissed off, he was really pissed off.

  Thirty

  Brianna

  Little Leon ended up needing surgery to repair a hole in his heart and flew through his surgery like the true fighter he was. Between spending time at the hospital and organising storage for all of Rosie’s furniture, Brie almost forgot to find a place to live. It wasn’t until the night the moving truck arrived that she had an idea.

  Rosie’s flat. She could move into the flat above Josh’s café.

  The tension between them since she’d walked out the other day was still there, but she could handle it. If anyone had a right to be annoyed it was her—one minute he was being all nice and ‘let’s go on a date’ and the next he was acting like a sullen teenager. With any luck, the whole will debacle would be sorted soon and she could leave.

  Now she had two days to sort out the rest of the stuff. She also had yet to visit the Kings Cross flat. It was on her agenda for the day, right after she met with the Di Norros. Brie arrived a little ahead of schedule so she had a chance to catch up with Tam.

  ‘I feel like I haven’t seen you in an age,’ Tam declared, giving Brie a hug.

  ‘It’s been a bit crazy,’ Brie said, taking a seat.

  ‘Speaking of crazy, you missed a cracker of a Sloane-Kelly family dinner.’ Tam went on to describe a rather heated discussion between her mother and her gran’s new husband. ‘He wants Mum and my uncles to refer to him as Dad,’ Tam said.

  ‘No!’

  Tam nodded. ‘Oh yes.’

  ‘What does your gran think of this?’

  ‘Bizarrely, she’s staying out of it. Sergei, that’s Gran’s hubby, has never been married before and has no children, but for some reason is adamant they call him Dad.’

  ‘Are you being asked to call him Grandpa?’

  ‘Nope,’ Tam said. ‘He wants me to refer to him as Mr Petrovsky. Anyway, Mum wants you to come to Easter lunch.’

  ‘When’s Easter?’

  Tam looked at her as if she’d grown another head. ‘Have you been living under a rock? It’s this Sunday.’

  ‘Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve actually celebrated Easter.’

  ‘Ah, well then, you’re in for a treat. Come for the food, stay for the fireworks. You won’t be sorry. That is, unless you have plans already?’

  Tam was referring to Josh, but now wasn’t the time to fill her in on the dramas with him. ‘No plans, I’d love to come. Just let me know what you’d like me to bring.’

  ‘Just your appetite and an open mind,’ Tam said as Brie spotted Sienna and her parents.

  Brie warmed to the Di Norros immediately, and if Paulo’s dad was anything like him, it was no surprise Rosie had named a café after them.

  ‘I can’t tell you what an honour this is,’ Paulo said in reference to the café’s name. ‘My mother and father often spoke fondly of Rosie.’

  ‘It would seem that Rosie felt the same.’ Sadness bloomed. Why hadn’t Rosie told her about Albi and Ruby?

  ‘Do you remember her much? My grandmother?’ She was curious as to how much Sienna had told her parents about their conversation.

  Paulo shook his head. ‘Not much. I do remember that she had blonde curly hair and that she spoke funny, which later I understood to be her accent. I remember Jimmy more.’

  ‘Jimmy?’ Brie’s pulse was racing. Jimmy was commonly short for James. It had to be the same person. ‘Rosie’s son?’

  Paulo nodded. ‘Sienna said my dad may’ve been confused, but I’m not. I clearly remember Jimmy. We were the same age and loved playing together.’

  Brie inhaled sharply. ‘Mr Di Norro—’

  ‘Please, call me Paulo.’

  ‘Paulo. Do you mind me asking, what year were you born?’

  ‘I was born in 1956. Jimmy and I apparently were playmates from when we were quite young, but I remember him more from our early days at school—we started kindergarten and we were together until we sold the Kings Cross deli and moved to Haberfield. We lost touch, as was normal. There were no mobile phones, email or Facebook back then.’

  Brie’s mind was racing with questions. If Paulo and Jimmy met before they went to school, it proved that Rosie had arrived in Australia before 1962.

  ‘Sienna mentioned that your mother was Rosie’s daughter?’

  ‘Yes, her name was Maggie, but she wasn’t born until 1968.’

  ‘I never met her. We’d moved by then.’

  Brie chewed nervously at her bottom lip. ‘What about Jimmy’s dad? Did you meet him?’

  ‘No, I can’t say I did. Sorry. I remember Papa saying once that Rosie was happier with the Americano, that it didn’t matter if he wasn’t Jimmy’s father, he was better for Rosie and Jimmy than the idiota.’

  Brie sat stunned. She’d expected her meeting with the Di Norros to provide answers and confirm what she already suspected, not throw up more questions.

  Who was the Americano? Was he her mother’s father?

  ‘I’ve upset you.’ Paulo furrowed his brows in concern. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, don’t be,’ Brie said, expelling a shaky breath. ‘I need to be honest with you. Until Sienna gave me the deck of snap cards at Rosie’s wake, I had no clue my grandmother had a son. I grew up thinking my mother was an only child.’

  ‘And your mother, she never knew she had a brother? What happened to Jimmy?’

  Brie shrugged. ‘I don’t know. My mother died when I was little. Rosie raised me on her own.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Bianca, Paulo’s wife, squeezed her hand sympathetically. ‘That must’ve been hard on you both.’

  Rosie had done an amazing job and there were times when they would be out and people would mistake Rosie for her mother—it wasn’t hard, she favoured her grandmother. But Bianca was right—there were times it was hard not having her mother, and even harder not knowing her father.

  ‘It was, but Rosie did the best she could’ve.’ Brie meant her words, but she also wished Rosie had opened up to her about her past more. ‘We were close, so I’m trying to understand why she would’ve kept such a secret from me. When I first heard about Jimmy I thought that perhaps he and my mother shared the same father, but now I’m not so sure.’

  ‘Your mother never knew her father?’ Paulo sounded alarmed.

  Brie shook her head.

  ‘I think my father assumed that whoever Rosie was with would be in her life forever. I remember he referred to Rosie and l’americano as being anime gemelle, soul mates. I wonder what happened?’

  Brie was curious too. ‘Paulo, do you recall your father calling the American anything else? Did he refer to him by his name?’

  ‘No, sorry.’ He shrugged apologetically. ‘He was always il Americano.’

  ‘Hang on,’ Sienna interjected. ‘I remember Papa calling him capitano Americano once.’

  All eyes turned to Sienna.

  ‘Remember, Dad? It was a few years back when there was the story about old American-style diners and he said it looked like the one that Rosie’s capitano Americano had, the one on Victoria Street.’

  Brie felt her heart thundering as she connected the dots. Could it be, could it really be? The café, Josh’s café, was once an American diner that belonged to Rosie’s love? Was that why she’d kept it after all these years, even after she had sold every other café? ‘Victoria Street, Kings Cross?’ she asked carefully.

  Paulo nodded. ‘Yes, Victoria Street, Kings Cross. Papa said it was close to the deli and also to where Jimmy and Rosie first lived; of course, then they moved into the flat above the diner.’

  Brie closed her eyes. Rosie’s flat. Was that wh
y she wanted to move to the flat, to be close to her Americano? What happened to him? Did he break her heart? Did he leave her? So many unanswered questions made her heart ache and her head hurt.

  As soon as the Di Norros left, Tam made her way towards Brie. ‘You look like you could do with a drink.’

  Brie didn’t doubt it. ‘Is it midday yet?’ It was certainly tempting.

  ‘No, but it is somewhere in the world. I can get John to whip you up a mimosa if you like.’

  ‘I thought you only served those on weekends?’

  ‘It’s Wednesday, close enough.’ Tam shrugged. ‘What do you say?’

  ‘I’d better not,’ Brie said. ‘I need to drive to the Cross to check out the flat, but if I find more secrets, then I might need you to bring me a whole bottle.’

  Tam cocked her head. ‘You want to talk about it? At one point, your meeting seemed very intense.’

  Brie gave her a rundown of the conversation, including the possible link to Josh’s café.

  ‘Oh my God, did you do a Google search?’

  ‘Not yet. I was going to check if the local library might hold historical records about the diner. If I had its original name, then I might be able to see who the owner was.’ Then she would know the name of Rosie’s Americano.

  Tam nodded. ‘Good idea, or you might see them on the title deeds or whatever documents she has that show transfer of ownership.’

  Brie’s head snapped up. ‘I hadn’t thought of that.’ If Rosie had come into possession of the diner and the flat, there had to be paperwork somewhere. It wasn’t at the house so it had to be at the flat.

  ‘I need to go.’ Brie scraped back her chair with a sense of urgency.

  ‘Good luck,’ Tam called after her. ‘Call me if you want that bottle of wine.’

  * * *

  Half an hour later she was climbing the stairs to the flat, her mind solely focused on getting inside. Nervously, she fumbled the key and prayed that it would open. When she heard a click, relief flooded through her and gingerly she opened the door and gasped.

  Brie didn’t know what she was expecting, but she wasn’t prepared for this. It was as if she was stepping onto the set of Mad Men, a show she’d often watched with Rosie.

  The living area was quite spacious, with a powder-blue retro sofa, a glass-top coffee table with walnut legs and matching side tables all sitting on a plush cream shag-pile rug. The walls were adorned with abstract art and period furnishings—cushions, vases, table lamps and knick-knacks were scattered around.

  The rest of the flat was decorated in the same vein—there was a small kitchenette to the right and two bedrooms that branched out from the main area with a tiny bathroom in between.

  The room to the right was easily recognisable as that belonging to a young child, but unlike the living space, it was somewhat bare. No wall art or décor, just a single bed pushed against one wall, a wooden tallboy against the other. She yanked at the top drawer of the tallboy, which was stiff and stuck from years of obvious inactivity, but found it empty, as were the remaining drawers. A search of the rest of the room failed to uncover any further clues, but despite the lack of telltale signs, there was something boyish about the space and Brie wondered if this had been Jimmy’s room.

  The room to the right was a little larger, with a double bed against the wall, a tall mahogany wardrobe and matching vanity and mirror. It too was devoid of warmth, but by the size of the bed and the look of the furniture, Brie could tell the room once had been shared by a couple.

  The vanity was bare, save for a single key. She picked it up. It was smaller than the average house key, and as she looked around, Brie spotted locks on the wardrobe. She tried the door to the left, and as luck would have it, it swung open.

  Brie gasped. There were boxes. Piles and piles of boxes all neatly stacked. She then tried the next door, then the next and discovered all three compartments contained a similar scene. It was a little overwhelming and daunting to think that there was more than fifty years of Rosie’s history here—maybe even some of her mother’s and hers, too. Debating where to start, she pulled out the first stack and dived in.

  The first box was all about Brie. There were photos of her from every birthday, including photos of her mother that Brie had never seen before.

  There was a whole stack of photos from her first year, each with Maggie and Brie, but the one that made her throat thick was a photo from her first birthday—Maggie holding Brie, her arms outstretched trying to grab the cake. Her mother looked so young—Maggie was only nineteen when she was born, still a baby herself. She flipped the photo over:

  Brianna’s 1st Birthday!

  12/6/88

  Brie knew Rosie’s penmanship by heart and it wasn’t hers, so it had to be Maggie’s. Tears pricked. She couldn’t recall ever seeing her mother’s handwriting. She stared until her eyes blurred before sighing sadly.

  The last stack of photos was of an exhausted-looking Maggie holding her newborn. It was bittersweet. She had never missed her mother so much as she did right now. In that photo Maggie looked so happy—it was as if she was planning Brie’s future, thinking of all the things she wanted to teach her, show her, share with her. In the end, Maggie had four short years with her baby before destiny delivered a cruel blow.

  The rest of the boxes were all from various stages in her life. Brie in primary school, Brie in high school, even her university acceptance letter, the one that Josh had seen before she’d had a chance to tell him she was moving to New York to do an Applied Arts and Journalism degree.

  ‘What do you mean you’re moving to New York?’ Josh was pissed off. He was holding her acceptance letter, waving it about, and Brie wanted to tell him to stop, to put it down before he scrunched it up, or worse still, ripped it to shreds.

  ‘I was going to tell you—’

  ‘When, Brie? You’ve had this letter for weeks, for weeks! Did I not deserve to know you were even thinking of applying to overseas unis?’

  ‘Josh, I didn’t think I was going to get in! I mean, my photography so far has been amateur and I didn’t think—’

  ‘That’s the problem with you, Brie, you don’t think. You’ve been so spoiled by Rosie telling you that you can do whatever you want with your life that you don’t stop and think about anyone else.’

  ‘Spoiled? Me? Are you kidding, Josh? You of all people should know how far from the truth that is. Yes, Rosie’s supported and encouraged me to follow my dreams and passions, but spoiled me? Never. And it’s rich coming from you, Joshua Cooper, Eastern Suburbs blueblood who has his whole life mapped out for him.’ Brie was beyond angry now.

  ‘Is that how you see me? Just some rich kid?’

  ‘Josh, admit it—we come from different worlds, you and I. You grew up in a normal home, I was raised by my hippie grandmother.’

  ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Josh, you know who you are and what you want in life. You know that you’re going to go to Sydney Uni, do a Bachelor of Commerce then work for your father. I don’t even know my father’s name. I don’t know who I am or where I belong, but I do know the moment I got this letter I wanted to go.’

  Josh was silent, but really no words were needed: the pain in his eyes said it all.

  ‘I’m sorry to hurt you, Josh, but it’s better to know the truth now rather than …’

  ‘Rather than what, Brie?’ Josh prodded.

  She exhaled slowly. ‘I need to do this, Josh. I need to go and find where I belong.’

  ‘You belong here, with Rosie, with … with me.’

  ‘Don’t ask me to choose between staying and going.’

  ‘You can travel to the ends of the earth, Brie, but one day you’ll realise that what you were looking for was right here all along. Only then it might be too late.’

  She resented him then. Resented the threat in his voice. Resented that he said those words to hurt her.

  ‘Maybe this was a mistake.’

  ‘Th
is?’ Josh asked.

  ‘This. Us. It was a mistake.’

  Josh recoiled as if she’d slapped him. She purposely had said the words to hurt him and they had the intended effect.

  ‘You don’t mean that,’ he whispered.

  Brie expelled a shaky breath. ‘I do.’

  A knock on the door pulled Brie back to the present. It was only after she hauled herself off the floor and caught her reflection in the mirror that she realised she was crying. Hastily, she wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and opened the door, half expecting Tam to be standing on the other side, but it wasn’t Tam.

  ‘Josh,’ she said his name equal parts curse and prayer. ‘What are you doing here?’ It took her three seconds to deduce that the brown paper bag in his hands contained some sort of Asian takeaway. Thai, if her nose was correct.

  ‘I noticed you go up a few hours ago …’ It took Josh two seconds to notice her face. ‘Brie, have you been crying?’

  ‘I, ah …’ She dropped her gaze, feeling somewhat caught unawares. ‘I was going through some of Rosie’s boxes and I didn’t realise how hard it would be.’

  ‘Did you find anything about James Fuller?’ Josh’s brows furrowed. He had automatically assumed her emotions were Rosie-based, and in part they were.

  ‘No,’ she said, rubbing the back of her neck. ‘That smells good.’ She nodded, realising he was still standing out in the hall with a bag of food.

  ‘Yeah, as I said, I saw you rush past, and when you didn’t come down I thought you might be hungry.’

  ‘You saw me?’ Brie was sure she had scurried past inconspicuously.

  ‘Actually, I heard you. I was in my office and heard footsteps. The only time any of my staff are allowed to come up is if there’s a bona fide emergency, but as soon as you kept trampling on, I knew it was you.’

  ‘Trampling?’ Brie cocked a brow. ‘I do not trample,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘Look, I’m here with a peace offering. And it’s not getting any warmer. So if you’re not interested in eating, then I’ll head back to my office. I have a shitload of paperwork to do.’

  As if on cue, her stomach rumbled and she shrugged sheepishly. ‘I guess I could have a bite to tide me over to dinner.’ She moved aside to let Josh in.