by Loretta Hill
‘Worried about your own inheritance, Tash?’
‘No,’ she’d responded. ‘What if there’s an emergency? What if they need the money back? I wanted our parents to have choices in their old age. Choices that you’ve taken away from them, and for what?’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Of course it’s my bloody business. You don’t just get to burn the restaurant down and walk out.’
‘It was an accident.’ Eve’s voice shook ever so slightly. ‘It’s not like I left those candles burning on purpose.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Natasha softened the accusation. ‘You need to ring the insurance company. You need to fix this.’
‘You can’t tell me what to do, Tash.’ Eve opened the door to her car.
‘Come on. Don’t be a fool. You’re better than this.’
‘I’ve got news for you.’ Eve had cocked her head, a rather hysterical gurgle bubbling up her throat. ‘I’m not.’
‘I swear to God, Eve, if you drive out of here leaving our parents high and dry I’ll never speak to you again.’
‘Then I guess this is goodbye.’
The car door slammed. Eve started her engine and drove off.
And true to her word, that was the last time they’d spoken. In the days that followed, Natasha had tried to help their father. If Eve wouldn’t stay to salvage the restaurant then she would. But her determination was stymied when her father told her the restaurant wasn’t insured – a fact that made her even more angry at Eve’s irresponsibility.
She asked Heath to take a look at the damage and give advice on how to rebuild. Neither of them thought it would be that costly to replace the floor even if it wasn’t covered by insurance. But their father had been adamant that the restaurant was to stay as it was until Eve was ready to return. Natasha had never felt more frustrated in her life.
‘But it’s such a waste,’ she had protested. ‘You’re killing your own investment, Dad. Making it worse.’ All that equipment they had purchased, the furniture and the decor. Was that all to go to waste? What about the staff? Were they to be fired?
Apparently so.
She should have known that her father would choose the ‘Mad Maxwell’ path rather than the rational one. He’d never had a head for business. It was always their mother who had looked after the administrative side of things. For her father the vineyard was far too ‘spiritual’ for him to be logical about it. And she guessed the restaurant fell into the same boat. If her father’s heart wasn’t in it then neither was his money.
And so the Tawny Brooks restaurant became the Tawny Brooks white elephant, remarked on by tourists as ‘bad luck’ and by the locals as ‘bad blood’. After twelve months it wasn’t talked about at all. Now, in hindsight, without the anger distracting her and the benefit of her own terrible secrets, she had to wonder what she should have asked years ago.
Why couldn’t Eve handle staying? Was there something she didn’t know?
Natasha tore her gaze from her sister’s back as it disappeared down the hall. No exchange of ‘goodnight’ had passed between them while she had been lost in her own thoughts.
Damn it. I hope she didn’t think I snubbed her … again.
Perhaps if she had reached out, Eve would have responded like she had at dinner.
‘Tash.’ The unmistakeable voice, with its rich timbre, sounded behind her and her breath caught in her throat. Heath was holding the door to their room open. It was not the first time she had slept in her childhood bedroom with him. When they had been happy, they had visited her family home quite a few times. She had been on just such a visit when the fire in the restaurant occurred. All the old single beds had long since been replaced with queens. In her room the bed was in the centre, adorned with a gorgeous white doona – an intricate vine-leaf design weaved in delicate dark green thread across it. The light wooded headboard perfectly complemented the timber flooring.
Heath wheeled in her suitcase, which he had insisted on bringing in from her car earlier, to the corner next to his. She looked at the two suitcases sitting side by side next to the bed, practically a photograph from their honeymoon. Her jaw tightened.
This is just awful. I don’t want to be here.
As if to mock her words, she heard the click of the door behind her and spun around.
‘Let me out.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Tash. Where are you going to go?’
‘Away from here. Away from you.’
‘What will that solve?’
‘It’ll solve the problem I’m having right now.’
She put a hand to her dry throat as tears smarted. She held her breath like it was a lifeline.
‘Tash.’ He came towards her.
‘Don’t,’ she squeaked, taking a step back. ‘How could you do this to me? Humiliate me like this in front of my family, in front of my hometown.’
He tilted his head sadly. ‘In what way have I humiliated you, Tash? Tell me in what way I’ve wronged you and I’ll make amends.’
‘Where should I start?’
‘At the beginning,’ he said. ‘Or should I say … the end.’
Her gaze flew to his. ‘You can’t just waltz back into my life like this. My parents don’t know anything about us, or the separation. And I don’t particularly want to break their hearts right before my sister’s wedding. When I do tell them I want to do it on my own terms and in private. Not while they’re having a freakin’ house party.’
‘I didn’t come here to make you tell them,’ he said slowly, a muscle twitching above his jaw. ‘The truth is, I haven’t told anyone yet either. Not any of my friends. Not any of my work colleagues.’
She didn’t know why this gave her comfort but it did. Maybe she wasn’t such a coward then. It was so incredible to believe that this was where they were now.
‘When Phoebe called asking for my assistance, how could I say no?’
‘Very easily.’
‘Not without telling her the truth,’ he sighed. ‘I thought you’d be pleased about this. You were so adamant after the fire that the restaurant should be restored.’
‘Restoring the restaurant isn’t going to do Tawny Brooks much good if it doesn’t have a chef.’
‘What about Eve?’
‘I don’t know what Eve wants,’ Natasha snapped, perhaps a little too harshly. ‘And I don’t think she’s going to listen to any advice from me. That ship has sailed.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’ He stood there, at least a couple of metres away, regarding her steadily. Why did she feel like all of a sudden she was being put on the spot?
‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you want me to go?’ He folded his arms. ‘In my view there are only two options here. One, I go home on some vague excuse and Phoebe finds some other engineer on short notice to supervise the restoration of the restaurant. Or, two, I stay here and pretend to be your loving husband and the dutiful brother-in-law who has offered his skills for both the betterment of the family business and the upcoming wedding.’
‘That’s not fair.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s not fair?’
‘Your options. Of course I’m not going to choose to ruin my sister’s wedding. She’ll never find another engineer at such short notice.’
‘Well, it’s settled then,’ he shrugged indifferently. ‘I guess I’m staying.’
As if to confirm his intention to make himself completely at home, he walked over to the edge of the bed and sat down. He lifted his foot onto his knee and began to unlace his shoes.
She glared at him. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘Getting undressed.’ He didn’t look up. ‘I was going to take a quick shower and go to bed.’
She felt the muscles in her neck tighten. ‘Not in this bed you’re not.’
He sighed and finally looked up at her again. ‘Really, Tash? Do you honestly think I’d make a move on you or something?’ He watched her impassivel
y as he began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I think I know better than that.’
After they’d lost Sophia, her lack of interest in him sexually had been another wedge between them – a circumstance that he had battled so determinedly in his campaign to win her approval. She wished he had put that energy towards healing from their loss instead of trying to seduce her back to his bed. In all honesty, intimacy had frightened her back then. It just reminded her of everything that had been taken from her. His touch had not been a source of comfort, it just made her want to run. And she did. Many times.
‘I –’ The words dried up at the sudden appearance of his bare torso. She looked away as a shudder rippled through her.
She wasn’t aroused. Couldn’t be. It was shock.
She hadn’t seen him like this in nearly a year, more than that if you counted the time they were living in the same house but not sleeping together. Besides, she hadn’t expected him to just whip off his shirt like she was no more than a lamp in the room.
‘Do you mind?’ she muttered.
‘Mind what?’ He stood up and she couldn’t resist another peek at those washboard abs.
‘Can’t you … I don’t know …’ She pointed at the walk-in wardrobe. ‘Get dressed in there?
His eyes darkened as his thumbs hooked into the waistband of his pants. For an awful moment, she thought he was going to whip them off as well. But in the last second his mouth pulled into a hard line. ‘Fine.’ He turned around, swiped his suitcase off the floor, walked into the walk-in robe and shut the door.
She spun away, a hand going immediately into her hair and pulling at the roots. What’s the matter with you?
She knew the feel of that chest. Huddled close beneath an umbrella to get out of the rain. Snuggled tight after sex. She could still recall the graze of her cheek against the light smattering of hair in the centre. His heartbeat thrumming loudly in her ears.
The door to the walk-in robe swung open again and she nearly jumped as he came striding out, a towel hung low around his waist on his otherwise naked body. She avoided eye contact as he crossed the room. He opened the door and walked out of their bedroom to use the family bathroom down the hall. As soon as the door clicked shut, she began to pace the floor, wringing her hands. Honestly, this was a nightmare. Made all the worse by the fact that she didn’t seem to be in complete control of her feelings any more.
Heath was the man who had abandoned her emotionally when she needed him the most; the man who hadn’t stopped to grieve the passing of his own child.
She had only seen him cry once, the day after he brought her home from hospital. The day Sophia had been taken from her womb. They’d sat in the living room, looking out the window, not really saying anything as shock had dried up all their words. And then he’d teared up. Great silent sobs. He put his head in his hands to catch the tears that carved a path down a face that was normally so strong, so controlled. And she had been about to reach for him, she really had, but her hands had balled up when he said, ‘If only we’d slowed down a little. If only we hadn’t been working so hard. We should have just taken it easy.’
And that’s when she knew that he blamed her.
He blamed her for the loss of their daughter. And really, how could she fault that, as she had come to the same conclusion herself only a few moments earlier? She shouldn’t have been pushing to get her campaign program finished before the birth. She shouldn’t have been taking on extra work to compensate for her upcoming maternity leave.
He’d got up abruptly from the couch and picked up the baby rocker that she had only just assembled the night before, going against his advice that it was too early to be doing this. The instructions still lay next to it on the coffee table. He’d sat down on the floor and began to take it apart, piece by piece.
‘Heath?’ she had asked. ‘What are you doing?’
‘I can’t look at this thing. I’m putting it back in its box.’
For the next two weeks that had pretty much become his strategy. He removed all things baby from their house and put them in the garage.
And then he started his life again, like nothing had ever happened.
She didn’t know how to deal with that, how to process such callous disregard. She wanted to talk about it. He didn’t. She wanted to apologise for her part in their baby’s death. He didn’t want to hear it. He wanted sex though. He wanted sex a lot. Something she couldn’t give.
And she couldn’t understand his need. What sort of man was this? To replace grief with lust.
So she had started blocking him out. Separating her life from his, ignoring his efforts to reel her back in. As they grew distant, she could feel him growing more desperate. Maybe that’s why he had suggested they try again for another baby so soon. Maybe he thought this was the way back into her heart.
It was this very tactic that had caused her to say those awful words to him. Those awful words that she couldn’t take back. ‘I don’t love you any more.’
How cruel. And how final. But it summed up everything they had both been feeling in the lead-up to the separation. That phrase had destroyed in a few seconds what had taken years to build.
He had taken it stoically, leaning heavily against their kitchen counter, his face a mask as always. By then, she had absolutely no idea how he really felt. He hid behind his plans and his strategies, his suggestions for their future. All horrendously misplaced. Any communication between them was always misdirected. They were like two people talking to walls instead of to each other. He didn’t get her.
She didn’t get him.
‘I guess that’s it then.’ He’d said it quite calmly and left the room.
He was gone the next day. Not just from their house but from the city as well. He flew out to Melbourne and she hadn’t laid eyes on him again.
Till now.
She stopped pacing and glanced about the room. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to act? Was this really her lot for the next month? Trapped here in a marriage neither of them wanted.
Or did they?
Because despite the pain, and the loss, and the suffering that had come before this point, it had not prevented her heart from leaping at the sight of him. Or recalling their last kiss. She may have said she didn’t love him. She may have tried to persuade herself of that fact, but she did not feel that there was no connection there.
There was something. Definitely something, if only she could define what that was.
Tash was all about compartments and boxes and making sure everything had its own place and a definition. And now here she was in no man’s land, with nowhere to run or even hide. Her eyes swung nervously to the bed.
Oh shit.
Where did he intend to sleep? Surely not next to her.
She looked at the floor – polished wooden floorboards, treated with the same magic cleaning product her mother used throughout the house. The hard surface wasn’t exactly comfortable, nor was there much room for Heath’s tall lean frame. This room had been a single bedroom for a young girl. With a queen bed in it, there was walking space only. If someone had to lie down on the floor, the best place would be at the foot of the bed. But even then, his head was going to be hard up against the wall unless he curled into a ball, which would then have his kneecaps knocking on the plane instead. She swallowed.
This is not the time to panic.
To distract herself, she lifted her suitcase onto the bed, opened it and saw her nightie.
Okay, now you can panic.
It was a short, pink satin slip that she hadn’t expected an audience for. It was very comfortable to wear, probably because there wasn’t a lot to it. She had brought the dressing gown that matched it as well but this was just as short and, even with the belt tied, dived just as low at the neckline. She quickly riffled through the rest of the clothes in her suitcase. She had brought a couple of other nighties but they were very similar in style.
Damn it!
She clutched the lingerie to her pe
rson, wondering what her options were. Her husband chose this moment to return. The door swung open and the glory of his damp nakedness hit her like a bucket of water in the face.
He shut the door quietly behind himself, a slight smile on his lips as he took her in and what she was holding. She felt heat crawl up her neck but couldn’t seem to move as he closed the slight distance and lifted a hand to finger the hem of her nightie.
‘This is a surprise. I always liked you in that.’
She gasped and flung the nightie back into the suitcase, which she then zipped up and pulled off the bed.
‘If you don’t mind,’ she said formally, ‘I’m going to use the bathroom now.’
‘I’m not stopping you,’ he purred.
In frustration she had to step around him, their bodies brushing and her skin burning with the contact. She hoped the wheels of her suitcase ran over his toes. If they did, he neither flinched nor made comment.
Standing outside in the dark hallway – the hallway of childhood pranks and secret midnight treasure hunts – she should have felt some comfort but tears smarted in her eyes.
What do I do? What do I do?
She headed for the bathroom, dreading the return to her bedroom. Suddenly, another door opened and Eve came spilling out, wrapped in an oversized towel, a bag of toiletries in one hand and her nightie hanging over her shoulder – a wonderful, conservative, baggy t-shirt with a high neckline. The two of them nearly collided.
‘Eve,’ she said urgently.
Her sister stopped in the doorway. ‘Tash?’ Eve’s eyes squinted at her in the dark and then opened wide in recognition.
Natasha knew she had no right, possibly no hope to ask, but she had to.
‘This is going to sound really weird.’
‘O-kay.’
‘Can we swap nighties?’
‘Huh?’
Natasha put her suitcase down, knelt on the floor, extracted her nightie and dressing gown and then stood up again.
‘Here, look, it has a dressing gown to match.’ She held it out, grateful that Eve could not quite make it out completely in the dim lighting of the hallway.
‘But I won’t fit into it,’ Eve protested. ‘I’m too big.’
