by PJ Vye
Jack turned suddenly and sprang into action, shaking the man’s hand and walked in the direction of his car. “No, but we’ll call you if we do. Thanks for your help.”
Willa wasn’t sure what to do. Should she stay by the river and let her body recover from its ordeal, or should she follow them back to the car and pretend nothing had happened? What was she thinking? Jack was dangerous. An alcoholic with questionable ethics. He had stolen from her, betrayed her and taken advantage of her. What could possibly be the reason why she would want to kiss him? Why would he want to kiss her? Was he manipulating some angle? Was this a way of getting her to do exactly what he wanted? Maybe it was part of the plan to get the promotional images he wanted, and Jack and Phil had been in on it the entire time.
But she didn’t want any of that to be true. Because the truth for her was that she had wanted him to kiss her. She wanted to be kissing him now, feeling the fullness of his lips on hers, strong arms around her, warm and secure.
The coolness of the breeze compelled her into action, and she turned away from the river and headed quickly back to the car. If he was disappointed to see her ready to leave, he didn’t show it.
Everything felt like it was in slow motion, as he climbed into the car beside her, started the car, put it in reverse, and then headed back down the winding driveway to the road. She could have counted every breath, every blink of an eye, time seemed so slow. What was she doing?
She forced her mind onto something else. The house! Oh how glorious. She could live in peace, in perfect surroundings. It was the answer to everything. Security, anonymity, seclusion. And she could afford it.
“Can I call my brother?”
“Of course,” he said, handing her his phone from his shirt pocket. She put her hand out so that he could drop it into hers without touching him. It was too soon to touch him again.
She dialed the number and listened to the phone ring, imagining her brother having to get up from the couch, cursing the interruption, but unable to resist answering in case it was some kind of windfall in his favour.
“Hello,” a gruff voice on the line answered that she recognised easily.
“Hi, Peter. It’s Willa. How are you?”
“Shit. Where are you?”
“We’re on our way back to your place. Is it alright if I stay again for a bit?” she said, hurrying on before he could say no. “It won’t be for long—I’ve found a place to buy, with gates and fences and security near the Goulburn River. Then I’ll be out of your hair.”
“How much is it?”
“It’s a lot. But I’ve got the money coming and it will cover the cost outright.”
“Yeah, sure, but what about after that? What are you going to live on?”
“I can live on next to nothing, you know that,” she said, sticking her chin out in defiance.
“Yeah, but once you have a house, you’ve got to pay rates, and upkeep, and I bet those fancy security fences need constant monitoring. That’ll cost a bit. Where are you going to get the money for that? You know I can’t be helping you out.”
She hadn’t really thought that far ahead. What would be the ongoing costs? How would she be able to pay them? Should she spend all the money on one house? What if the album didn’t sell and there were no more royalty cheques?
“I bet that record producer wants you to buy that house, doesn’t he?”
“Well yes, he showed it to me.”
“Of course he did.”
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
“Think about it. He wants to keep you working doesn’t he? Put you in a house you can’t afford and then make sure you have to keep doing whatever he asks so that you can afford it. He’s no sucker.”
She felt the blood drain from her face to her ankles. Her brother was right and what a fool she was. She cast an accusing glance at Jack, who looked back at her in confusion.
“Willa, you still there?” said the voice in the phone.
“Yeah, I’m here Pete. Look can I come home?” The euphoria of seeing the house and the near miss with Jack at the river evaporated. She had suspected Jack had been working an angle that would be to his best advantage, and her brother had found it, making her look like an easy target. She wanted to punch Jack in the stomach to make him feel as lousy as she did.
Peter ignored her question. “Can I speak with that manipulative shithead?”
“What? You wanna speak with Jack?”
“Yeah, Jack. Put him on the phone.”
“He’s driving.”
“Tell him to pull over and let me speak with him. And I don’t want you listening in, you hear me. What I’ve got to say to him is private, you understand me.”
“You know he’ll tell me later, right,” she said and hoped it was true.
“Here.” She handed Jack the phone once the car was stationary and shrugged her shoulders at his questioning face. She got out of the car, remembered she was angry, and slammed the door shut as hard as she could.
“Yep. Jack here,” he said overly loud into the phone.
“Look Jack, I need you to hold up for a coupl’a days. Keep Willa away from the news and papers and all that. Just until things die down a bit eh?”
“Peter, if it hasn’t died down yet, it’s not likely to.”
“Yeah…well…there’s been a development.”
Jack stopped looking out the window at Willa and stared straight ahead. “What’s happened?” He couldn’t help think it was all too good to be true. Getting the record finished in time, being on schedule. Of course, the universe couldn’t let it run smoothly. “What’s going on?”
He could hear the other man scratching, possibly his head, but possibly not, as he found the words. “Her brother, Carl, got himself into a bit ‘o strife right…and well…he’s let the cat of the bag…”
“The cat? Out of the bag? Whose cat? What the hell are you taking about?” Why was this joker wasting his time?
“I’m not keen to tell you this over the phone right. Missy has big ears and believe me when I say, she’s not ready to hear about this yet.”
“You’re not making any sense man. Am I bringing her to you or not? I’ve got a plane to catch. I don’t have time for this.” He was pissed he had to take her back at all. The idea of Willa living with her brother again, even only for a short time, grated on him. She deserved so much better. He carried a lot of guilt these days but it was bittersweet kind. If he hadn’t had her home destroyed she’d still have a place to live and perhaps wouldn’t be here with him now. And if she wasn’t with him here now he would have missed that moment earlier under the gums where they’d almost kissed. That ‘almost’ kiss had given him hope. His guilt could take a back seat.
“If you bring her home now, she’s gonna end up in one of her stupid fits. Can ya keep her with ya, just for a few more days, and I’ll let ya know when things are a bit more…stable.”
Jack took a long breath and rubbed his forehead. Did he just not want Willa staying with him, disrupting his lazy lifestyle? Or was it something else?
“Alright, but you’ve got to give me something more than that. What did Carl do?”
“He was in a bit of financial trouble—so he sold some information about Willa—information she didn’t want anyone to know.”
“What information?” Jack glanced out to see Willa a short distance away, sitting amongst the leaves, drawing lines in the dirt. As if she felt his eyes on her, she looked up, regarding him keenly, probably trying to guess the nature of the conversation he was having with her brother. He couldn’t keep her gaze and looked away. “Peter, what information?”
“Eighteen years ago one ‘o her clients—a nutta it turns out—went on a rampage and killed seven of his kids. She found ‘em next morning—all of ‘em dead, ‘cept one.”
Jack couldn’t move for a moment as an electric wave of shock surged through him. “Oh, God.”
“She blamed herself o’ ‘course. Should ‘ve got ‘em kids out
ta there, but she hadn’t.”
“Was she charged for neglect of duty?”
“Nah. There was an inquiry. It weren’t her fault, but she always blamed herself.”
“How was it kept from the media until now?”
“Her name was withheld. To protect her. But she wanted to put it behind her. And she never wanted the kid who survived to know who she was.”
“One of the children survived?”
“Yeah, the baby.”
Jack closed his eyes and felt a wrench of empathy in his heart, a feeling he wasn’t all that used to. It was hard to imagine, if just a little, how she must have felt, still felt about thinking she was responsible for such a tragedy. The anger and pain and confusion she lived with every day. The image of a house full of dead children was not to be borne. It would stick behind your eyes forever, be tattooed on the sides of your heart and mind and affect every subsequent choice for the rest of your life. There was no undo button for this kind of horror.
“Jack, you there?” Peter asked after a long silence.
“Yeah, still here.”
“Listen mate, she’s gonna find out, but it might be an idea to keep her away from the newspaper and the telly for a few days.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“And when you reckon the time is right, break the news.”
“What, me?”
“May o’s well be you, mate. You put her in this bleedin’ mess, didn’t ya?”
“Yeah, ok. I better go, she’s coming back.” Willa hadn’t moved but Jack needed some thinking time before she did.
“Righto then. Oo-roo.”
Jack heard the disconnected signal and admired the man’s mastery in ignoring social conventions.
Willa. Poor Willa. He put on a straight face, knowing she could see him through the glass. He mustn’t give the game away just yet. What would he tell her? How would he explain that he couldn’t take her home just yet?
He stepped out of the car and joined her under the trees. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Ready to go?”
“What did Peter want?”
Jack made an effort to keep his voice even. “Apparently they aired the Hermit episode again, and it’s sparked another paparazzi frenzy. They’re camped out the front of his place and he thinks it would be better if we stayed on here for a couple more days, just until it blows over again. I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him quickly, and he cleared his throat as if to infer this was the reason his voice had quivered. She kept staring, as if she knew something was different.
“He doesn’t want me there, does he? That’s the real reason isn’t it? The rat can’t stand having his sorry backside inconvenienced for one second.” She looked so betrayed; it was all he could do not to reassure her. But the misunderstanding served a purpose at that moment and he was loath to deny it.
“Look, put the blame on me, Willa. I’m the—“
“Oh, I do. Don’t worry about that. I put the blame on you all day, everyday day.” With that she gave him the briefest of smiles and the world resumed turning for him.
“So will you come back with me? I’ll drop into town and get some groceries, and then we can light the fire and settle in for a night of steak dinner and checkers.”
“Hang on a minute, I’m still mad at you. What about that house? If I spend all my money on that house, how am I going to afford the running expenses? Are you still taking advantage of me, really Jack? Were you trying to get me financially dependent on you? Is that true? Tell me Peter was wrong. Because I hate it when he’s right—but it looks an awful lot like he is.”
Jack began driving, keeping his eyes on the road and not daring to check her expression. He needed to be delicate and not tell her what he had truly been thinking, or she would run a million miles.
“You will receive royalty cheques for a long time. They should cover your ongoing costs.” Don’t tell her the distant dream in your head, Jack.
“So Peter was wrong.”
“Unless, of course, your album doesn’t sell. Then you might be in trouble.”
“So he was right.”
“Perhaps a bit of both...”
“Did he mention the house to you, on the phone?”
“He is looking out for you, Willa. Even though you mightn’t feel that sometimes.”
“Carl was always the protector and Peter the enemy.”
“Why is that?”
“I don’t know. Carl was older, less inclined to enter into childhood disputes. He would get Peter off my back sometimes, when he was picking on me more than usual. But because they were both so much older than me, I mostly just felt like an only child a lot of the time. Left to my own devices to amuse myself. The rare occasion Peter would play with me, it tended to end up in a fight.”
“Well I think this time he is being the big brother he is supposed to be. That whole house thing—he cares about you.”
“Yeah, I’m not so sure.”
“So are we okay about the house? Do you want to put in an offer?”
“No, I’m still angry you tried to back me into a corner. I can’t buy that house and risk being indebted to you forever.”
“You don’t look angry.”
“Well I am,” she said, narrowing her eyes to demonstrate her point.
“What if we sit down tonight and work out a plan? See if we can make it work?”
“I really loved that house. It felt like it was given to me and taken away all within a few minutes of each other. Being around you is like living in a rollercoaster carriage.”
“So you mean exciting, thrilling and adventuresome?”
“No, I mean scary, nauseating, and shocking.”
They laughed together and he felt a warm glow of affection for her that was addictive. He wanted to keep her laughing, just to keep that feeling inside. I love you. The words screamed around in his head, desperate to be spoken, but he kept them silent, bumping around in the sides of his mind. It was done. He knew it to be true now. He loved her with every piece of him. He wanted her to buy that house, not to keep her financially dependent, but to share it with her. It was a stupid dream. She would never agree to it. How could she possibly feel the same way after the what he’d done to her?
Jack spent the next few hours feeling like he was in some kind of slapstick comedy routine, trying to keep Willa from coming into media contact with the outside world. He found a park a long way from the newsagent so she wouldn’t see the headlines on the newspaper board that read “Hermit Singer Knew Child Slayer.”
He panicked when he saw her pick up his cell phone to answer a call that later turned out only to be Phil. In hindsight, knocking her to the ground in an attempt to snatch the phone from her hands had been an over-reaction, and her suspicions were now raised.
They found the cabin just as they left it. He safely stowed away the newspaper he’d purchased to read later but when he went looking for the TV remote control to hide in a safe place, she already had it in her hands. He snatched it from her and turned it off in one swift move.
“What was that for?”
“You never watch TV. Why were you trying to turn on the TV?”
“I wanted to check the weather.”
“I can find that out for you. Can we leave the TV off? I hate the noise.”
“What about the radio?”
“Same. Let’s just enjoy the peace and tranquility, can we?”
“Okay, but I just wanted to know if it was going to rain tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Cause it looks like rain.”
“Then it’s probably going to rain.”
“You’re acting strange.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.”
“Well that could be for any number of reasons.” He gave her a good hard look that made her blush. The memory of their kiss came flooding back to him, and he wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms.
“Give me that remote,
” she demanded.
“No.”
“Fine. Where’s that newspaper you had. That’ll do.”
“I used it to light the fire.” They simultaneously looked at the fireplace and saw nothing but a bare grate.
“I’m going to make a salad. You can light the grill and after dinner you can tell me why you don’t want me to know tomorrow’s weather.”
“Okay, deal.” She was making it light but he knew she hid a serious curiosity. He was not going to be able to keep this up forever. He would need to tell her.
Tonight.
Chapter 14
The moment he read the headline Daniel knew it was her. It had to be her.
Everywhere he looked had been futile. The bank refused to disclose the cheque provider, and short of putting up posters with a picture of his face and asking, “Are you sending money to this man?” he had little options to move forward.
There had been some leads regarding a tip off from a man who had been paying a teacher to give regular reports of his progress through secondary school. But this lead had turned cold as well, with the teacher unable to identify the man, supplying only a vague description that could have been one of a million middle aged men in the nation.
But here it was in black and white. Willa Jones was the woman who had found him alive, plucked him from his crib that fated morning and taken him to hospital. She was the woman who had found them all dead, his brothers and sisters, his father, slaughtered like a village from the Middle Ages.
Taking seven children away from their only parent was a tough choice. That was why she had committed to daily visits. The death of his mother had been deemed as suicide, but the truth of this they would never know.
He wondered, not for the first time, what it meant for him, having a psychopath father and a mother with mental illness. What personality traits could he possibly have inherited that might show itself as time passed. He had kept these dark family secrets from Teagan; just in case she might worry he would get a little bit crazy one night and follow in his father’s footsteps. How did he know he wouldn’t? He certainly didn’t feel crazy, didn’t have any unusual sadistic thoughts or depraved desires. But how could he be sure? The truth was—he couldn’t.
