Her thoughts were clearing, she realized. She no longer felt as fuzzy as she had those first few days, or as confused. She still tired quickly, but the aches and pains caused by the accident had lessened, and she no longer had to take painkillers all the time.
She closed her eyes. Her memories of the past eight years were still missing. And yet… as the trees around the deck moved, she felt the dappled light on her face, and saw images flickering at the corner of her vision similar to the movement of the leaves. Would they ever become clearer? Or would they always remain this vague and indistinct?
It didn’t matter, she decided. The doctor had told her it could take weeks, months, or years for her memory to come back, if it came back at all. It had only been nine days since she’d whacked her head on the pavement. She wasn’t going to stress about it.
Finishing off her drink, she went back into the living room, sat at the desk, and pulled her notepad to her. At some point, she’d printed out a last-minute wedding list off the internet. Time to double check everything and follow up on some of the smaller bits and pieces. Then she’d start ringing her friends and family to tell them it was still on.
She called the local beauty salon to check the time that she was due to have her nails done the day before. Then phoned her hairdresser and asked if she could pop in the next day to discuss an alternative style to cover the wound on the back of her head. Each call took a long time as Noelle had told them all about the accident, and she had to explain each time what had happened, and how she was feeling.
Next, she called her local travel agent to double check on the arrangements for their honeymoon in Fiji. She studied the card while the phone rang, and then when the receptionist answered, asked to speak to Jill.
“Hi Jill,” she said when put through to her. “My name is Phoebe Goldsmith. I’m calling to confirm that everything’s okay for my honeymoon in Fiji next week.” She tried not to giggle as she said it. She was getting married!
“Oh!” Jill exclaimed, and then there was a long moment of silence.
“Hello?” Phoebe said.
“Phoebe! Oh, I’m so pleased to hear you’re okay. Your mother rang and told me about the accident, and I couldn’t believe it.”
“Yes, it’s been a trying week,” Phoebe said for the umpteenth time that morning.
“I… um… I’m a bit confused, though,” Jill replied. “Is the wedding going ahead, then?”
“It is,” Phoebe said cheerfully. “I know Mum probably said it might not, but I’m feeling much better and have decided not to cancel.”
“I’m sorry,” Jill said, “I’m a bit confused. After we got the message that the wedding was off, everything was cancelled.”
Phoebe’s heart skipped a beat. “What? Oh my God, you must have misheard. My mother wouldn’t have cancelled anything without checking with me.”
“I don’t think it was your mother,” Jill said.
Now Phoebe was confused. “But you said you spoke to Mum—”
“That was just a few days ago,” Jill said. “I’m talking about last Thursday.”
Phoebe frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Last Thursday, the second,” Jill clarified. “I was off sick with flu. I left the temp who covered for me a list of things to do, which included ringing to confirm whether you wanted to book a connection from Fiji airport to the resort. When I came in the next day, she’d left a message on my desk. I’ve got it here. It says, ‘Masters wedding is off, I’ve cancelled the flights and the Fiji resort as per instructions.’”
Phoebe could barely breathe. “Who did the temp talk to?”
“It doesn’t say. I must admit, I was puzzled. I did try to call you, but you didn’t answer. Of course now I understand why. When your mother rang, she explained that you’d had an accident and that everything was on hold. I was so shocked, it was only when I hung up that I thought it was a bit strange when we’d already been informed the wedding was cancelled. But she’d asked me not to ring you because you needed rest, so I just assumed I was the one who was confused, which is normally the case.”
Phoebe sat very still in her chair. “So let me get this straight. The temp called someone last Thursday to check on some details, only to be informed that the wedding was off?”
“That’s right.”
Last Thursday—the day of her accident. “Do you know what time?”
“Um… late-ish, I think. Yes, the note says seven p.m. We open late on Thursdays, but it was quiet, and she was catching up on calls.”
Phoebe knew she’d had the accident around seven-fifteen. The police had turned up to tell Rafe around eight p.m.
“Did I make a mistake?” Jill asked, concerned.
“No, it’s fine. Thank you. Have a nice day.” Phoebe hung up.
For a long time, she just sat there in a daze. Only that morning, she’d thought that her brain was back to normal, but suddenly it refused to function, and she couldn’t bring herself to process what she’d just been told.
It was all a big misunderstanding, surely. Someone had gotten the wrong end of the stick, misinterpreted something that someone else had said. There was a simple explanation for all of this, and no need to panic.
Deep down, though, she knew that wasn’t the case.
Something had happened that evening. Her gut instinct had been right all along.
Feeling a bit dizzy, she got up and walked through the living room and into the bedroom. Not sure why she’d done so, she sat on the bed. She was so tired. She should have a sleep for a while. But she felt sick—she couldn’t possibly sleep.
It was then that her gaze fell on the door. She’d closed it behind her as she’d gone in. On the back was a cinema poster of La La Land, stuck with Blu-Tac, and a corner of it had loosened and peeled away.
Rising, she went over to it and took the poster down. Behind it, the door had a huge hole. Someone had hit it hard, with a heavy object, or maybe a fist.
Phoebe stared at it for a long while. Then she went back to the bed and lowered herself down.
Suddenly, the house felt full of secrets. They’d all been keeping something from her—Rafe, her sisters, her mother. Who had the temp spoken to on the night? It must have been Rafe. He’d told them the wedding was cancelled because he was angry at something she’d done on the Thursday night. He hadn’t wanted to marry her after all.
But it didn’t make sense, because he’d been so loving over the past week, so keen to keep the wedding on.
Was it her mother? Had Noelle taken it upon herself to cancel their wedding because she was worried about something she’d seen? Or Bianca? Was that why her sister had seemed upset?
There was no way of knowing, and nobody would tell her the truth. She couldn’t trust anyone, least of all herself.
Her head was throbbing now, pounding at the base of her skull. Like a zombie, she went into the kitchen and took some painkillers, then returned to bed. She lay down and curled up around the pillow.
Even though the wind was starting to howl, she could barely keep her eyes open, and she faded into sleep gratefully, finding relief in oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Rafe pulled up outside the house and got out of the car. The wind whipped around him, almost knocking him over, and he cast a look up at the sky, pursing his lips at the sight of the tall trees almost bowed over. It wasn’t the first time the Northland had been subjected to a cyclone, and, the previous June, one had devastated the Bay of Islands, destroying houses and shops alike. Hopefully this one wouldn’t be as bad, as it wasn’t raining as severely as before, but no doubt there would be a lot of damage in the area.
He bent back down and reached across to the passenger side, retrieving the large bouquet of red roses he’d bought on the way home. Shielding them with his jacket from the wind, he locked the car and headed for the front door.
On the whole, despite the bad weather, it had not been a bad day. His team had at
tended a call out at a large accident on state highway one, and they’d dealt with it efficiently, earning themselves a pat on the back from the station officer. The night shift would have a tough time as there were trees going down all over the place and there would be flooding before the night was out, but he was done for the day. He was tired, but he had a spring in his step as he headed up the path. Things were going well with Phoebe, and last night she’d said she was going to marry him. It was more than he’d hoped for so soon after her accident, and for the first time he felt that maybe, just maybe, things were going to be all right.
He opened the door, walked in, and stopped. It was nearly six thirty and therefore still a couple of hours until sunset, but the weather had cast an odd orange light over the Northland. The house was dark and something felt… off. He closed the door behind him and walked in, dropping his keys on the table. “Phoebe?”
“In here,” she called.
He turned toward her voice and walked into the bedroom.
She hadn’t turned on any lights in there either. She was sitting on the bed, her back against the pillows, watching the trees whipping about, although she looked up at him as he came in. She glanced at the flowers in his hand, but she didn’t smile.
“What’s up?” He placed the bouquet on the chair and walked around to her side. “Are you feeling ill?”
She didn’t say anything. Seeing a crumpled piece of paper in her hand, he bent, took it, and unraveled it. It was a poster of La La Land.
Slowly, he looked at the door. He stared at it for a moment, then turned back to her.
“I spoke to the travel agent today,” she said. “I rang to make sure the arrangements were all okay for the honeymoon.”
He sat on the edge of the bed, not sure where this was going.
“She told me that a member of the agency had spoken to someone the night of my accident. They’d rung to check on something, and the person they spoke to told them the wedding was off, and to cancel the holiday.”
For a moment, Rafe couldn’t breathe, his throat tightening with panic.
“Was it you?” she said softly.
He shook his head.
For the first time, she showed some emotion, a touch of fury lighting her eyes. “Don’t lie to me, Rafe.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You haven’t stopped since the day I woke up in hospital. I’ve had this feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that something wasn’t right, and I’ve kept asking everyone, but nobody will tell me the truth. Is it some big conspiracy? Are you all in on it together?”
He looked at his hands, his heart sinking. He’d known this moment was going to come, but, like a coward, he’d kept putting it off.
“Talk to me,” she snapped. “What is it? Did you have an affair or something?”
He lifted his head, alarmed. “No, of course not.”
“What, then? What could possibly have happened for you to cancel our honeymoon that Thursday?”
“It wasn’t me, Phoebe. It must have been you.”
She stared at him. “Why would I do that?”
He hesitated, knowing that telling her the truth meant losing her.
She swung her legs around and got up.
“Where are you going?” he asked, standing too.
“I’m leaving. I’m done with being lied to. I obviously can’t trust a single word you’ve said.”
“Don’t go.” He moved in front of the door, blocking her exit.
“Get out of my way.” Her eyes glittered dangerously.
He shook his head, and a dull resignation settled over him like a fine mist. He was going to lose her anyway if he didn’t tell her. “I’ll tell you everything,” he said. “I swear. Just don’t go.”
She stood there, chest heaving with emotion, glaring at him. “How do I know it’s the truth though?”
“Sweetheart, I haven’t lied to you. There are just some things I haven’t told you.”
She gave a short, humorless laugh and walked away then, across the room. “You think I’m going to be impressed by semantics?” She turned and glared at him again. “You’re supposed to be my fiancé. The one person I can trust more than anyone else in the world. Do you know how I feel right now? I feel fucking violated.”
He swallowed hard. “I know. And I’m so sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.”
She didn’t reply. He walked forward and stopped a few feet from her. Outside, one of the chairs on the deck skittered across the wood, blown by the wind. He should go out, stack them all, and tie them down, but nothing could have made him leave at that moment. They stood in front of the sliding doors, cast in the odd, deep-orange light, the sun slowly dying, like their relationship.
No, it wasn’t going to end. He refused to think that. He’d told her after the accident that he was going to make this work. He still was.
Somehow.
“We had an argument that Thursday,” he said, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans so he wasn’t tempted to reach out to her. “I got home from work around six-fifteen, and you were working out in the spare room. You told me you’d been there over an hour. I was worried about the amount of time you were spending on fitness—we’ve argued about it a lot. I said that you should have a shower and have dinner with me. You told me you were going out for a run first. I’d had a tough day at work, I was tired, and I lost my temper. I said that I was fed up with being second place to your fitness program. You said if I felt like that, it was my fault, and you weren’t going to change the way you were.”
He swallowed hard at the memory. “It blew up into a huge argument, the worst we’ve ever had. Eventually, you put your running shoes on and just left. I was frustrated and angry, and I punched the door.” He indicated the hole in the wood. “I guess the travel agent rang you as you headed out, and you were cross and frustrated, and said the wedding was off. The next thing I knew was an hour later when the police were knocking on my door to tell me you’d had an accident.”
Phoebe was frowning, clearly trying to process the information. “It explains some things,” she said eventually, “but not everything. Was the whole argument about me working out? Why were you so angry about it? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It wasn’t just the working out.” Rafe suddenly felt exhausted, and he sank onto the edge of the bed. “We’d been having… issues, the past few months.”
She folded her arms. “What kind of issues?”
“About the move to Auckland.”
“I knew it,” she said. “After all the time I’d spent building up the bridal shop, I couldn’t understand why I was so happy to go. I obviously wanted to back you up with your promotion, but it was always going to cause problems between us. You knew how I felt about the shop. How much I’d put into it. Why did you think I could give it up just like that?”
“Phoebe,” he said quietly, “I was the one who didn’t want to go.”
She studied him, blinking. “What?”
“You went for the job at Mackenzie’s without telling me. Six weeks ago, you came home and told me you’d been for an interview and they’d offered you the job. I thought you’d gone to the city for shopping; I didn’t know anything about the interview. You said you really wanted to take it, and asked me to apply for a transfer to the Auckland Fire Station.”
Her lips parted. “But…”
“I’m happy here,” he said, somewhat resentfully, angry that they were having the same argument all over again. “We’ve got a lovely house, a good social life, great friends, and you have your family. I love my job here. I don’t want promotion. I’d be content with getting married and just being together. I wanted to start a family right away—it was your choice to wait. But although I was angry in the beginning, I said I’d go with you because I love you, and I want you to be happy.”
Her face filled with frustration. “I don’t understand. Why would I want to leave the bridal shop? Why d
id I throw myself into running marathons, for fuck’s sake? It’s not me. What the hell happened to change me that much?”
“It was your father,” Rafe said simply, trying not to think about the promise he’d made to Noelle. She’d understand that it had to come out eventually, surely.
“Yes, my father died,” she snapped, “I get it. I know how upset I would have been. But I’m a realist; I know that shit happens. I don’t believe that single event would have turned my life upside down so completely.”
“It wasn’t what happened, it was how it happened.” Rafe wished he could save her from this, but it was too far gone now. The cyclone was almost on them, and all he could do was hang on tightly and do his best to repair the damage when it was done. “That day, you were due to meet your father for lunch. You were going to talk to him about the wedding preparations, because I’d asked him for your hand just a week before. You texted him at twelve thirty and said you’d pick him up at one o’clock, and he texted back that he was looking forward to it. Noelle was at work. But on the way out from the shop, you met a friend you hadn’t seen for a while and got chatting. You texted your dad again and said you were going to be thirty minutes late. You turned up at the house at one-thirty, and found him on the floor. He was already dead.”
Phoebe’s hand rose to cover her mouth.
“The thing is, you’d had that text from him just after twelve-thirty. And you convinced yourself that if only you’d turned up at one, as you’d promised, you’d have been in time to help him.”
Slowly, she lowered herself onto the edge of the bed.
“It changed you,” Rafe said. “You couldn’t cope with that knowledge. You sunk into a deep depression for about four months. It was awful. I couldn’t reach you. Eventually, I begged you to get help, and you ended up seeing a grief therapist. They suggested that exercise is a good way to get the endorphins going, and so you started running in the morning.”
He sighed. “But you… I don’t know… became addicted to it, I guess. It was something you could focus on. In the beginning I didn’t say anything; I was just relieved that you were feeling better. We moved in together, and things were going okay. But the more you ran, the more you wanted to run. You did the Kerikeri half marathon and loved it. You ran to raise money for the Heart Foundation, and that became incredibly important to you. It was as if you thought you could counterbalance the guilt of what you’d done by helping others who had heart problems. It became an obsession. You turned vegetarian, and exercised all the time. It overtook everything. I… I felt as if I was losing you.”
Bride in Trouble Page 18
