by Maggie Mundy
“You’ll get through this, Beth. Trust me. Most of us are stronger than we know.” He let her cry as he soothed the pain with a caress and a word. Finally, the tears stopped, and she fell asleep in his arms. It felt decent, way too decent for her to be comforted by someone like him. This had just gotten too complicated, no matter how pleasant it was.
****
Why wasn’t she freaking out? She had just spent a night having sex with a stranger. Plus, she had cried with him. She hadn’t cried since Jeff died, and Greg had held her while her heart wept itself out. For nothing else other than being there when she needed someone to hold her, she would always be grateful to him.
She had kept it together for the past three years for her kids and everyone else, after all. This had been a release. Greg didn’t know her, he didn’t judge her, and soon he would be gone, which was good … no matter how good-looking he was, or how incredible the sex was. At least he had used condoms. Thank goodness one of them had been responsible.
He walked out of the bathroom. She looked at him and winked badly. He laughed and shook his head.
“No regrets?” Beth asked.
“You’re kidding, right?” One eyebrow went up as he looked at her. “I was happy with coffee.”
“I wasn’t.” Beth took a deep breath. He sat next to her on the bed and took her hand in his.
“I noticed, and I’m glad about that. You’re a very nice lady, Beth, and what we did was great, really great. I hope things work out for you.”
“Thanks, I think they will.”
“Listen, this is my number if you want to talk or share a whiskey sometime.” He stood up and took her hand and pulled her up into his arms for one last kiss. His lips melded to hers, and if he didn’t go soon, she would be dragging him back to bed whether he had any more condoms or not.
She watched him drive off and sighed, not a sigh of sadness, but one of contentment. The oblivion she had been looking for had turned into something unexpected.
She turned back to grab her overnight bag and noticed the piece of paper with his number on. She picked it up and went to put it in her bag, but instead screwed it up and threw it in the rubbish bin. She needed to keep this simple: A one-night stand between strangers who would never meet again.
Chapter Two
Trudy poured his drink and sighed. The sound tore him up inside. His sister had sighed too many times because of him. She’d never asked why he’d done it, and he would never tell her, but she still stood by him. Every first Sunday of the month, she would visit him on the inside.
Greg watched the other inmates like him over the years, who were in for the long haul. Most people would start off with visitors, but end up with only a few trusted friends or family. He never blamed anyone for not coming to see him. They had a right to get on with their lives. It wasn’t their fault he’d fucked up his. If there was any good left in him, no one else but Trudy could see it.
She placed his glass on the kitchen table in front of him. “Mum phoned. She heard you were out.”
“And she just couldn’t wait to see me.” Greg sipped on his whiskey. It was first-rate. It was one thing they both had in common, an aversion to bad whiskey. The sex the night before had made up for the bad whiskey he had bought. Next time he would treat himself. He couldn’t stop the smile on his face as he remembered Beth’s body.
“Not exactly. She’s become Councilor Barnes now––for Unley, no less. She changed after Dad died. I mean it wasn’t you, and the funeral and things. It’s as if she didn’t want to be near any of us anymore. God knows why they ever married in the first place. Sometimes I wonder if she hated her life with just Dad, or she hated her life with all of us.”
Trudy took a big gulp. “Since I last visited you, she says she’s met some guy who wants to marry her, says she never will.”
“Good luck to him. I didn’t know you could get elected with a criminal for a son.” There was no emotional connection between him and his mother. He didn’t want to talk about her, but Trudy would never give up on the chance they could be a normal family someday.
“Knowing Mum, she’d find a way.” Trudy raised her eyes and shook her head.
“Do you think she puts out for this guy?” Greg watched as his sister’s face go pink as she laughed.
“She’s our mother. I wouldn’t ask. The thought of her like that messes with my head.”
Trudy slapped his arm. She was the only person who could get away with it. Anyone else and he would have had them pinned up against the wall with his elbow thrust under their chin. He was a killer, after all. It still lurked there below the surface. He tasted bile in his throat, burning. He had no intention of dealing with the past now.
Trudy’s kitchen appeared normal: mugs, pots, pans. There was even a bun sliced up on the counter for the kids, for afternoon tea when they got home from school. The only thing not normal in this kitchen was Greg himself. Most people didn’t have a convicted killer sitting at the table. Life had turned out so different for the two of them. Trudy, in her thirties with a job, a home, a husband, and kids … he in his thirties, just out of jail, a big bank account, and nothing else. It would be best to keep it that way, much less complicated.
Thank God they didn’t look similar. At least Trudy didn’t have to put up with people gawking at her and remembering what he’d done. If they sat down in the main street and had a coffee together, no one would think they were related. She had black hair like Mum, while his was brown. She was small like Mum, only five-foot-two, and he was six-foot, like Dad and Uncle Fred.
Trudy was starting to put on weight around the middle. She was content, and that was how he wanted her to stay.
“So, what about you? What are you going to do now?” she asked.
“Good question, and to be honest, I don’t have a fucking clue. People need carpenters, so I suppose I’ll move about a bit. Being forced to be in one place for twelve years gives you the feeling of wanting to go walkabout. Any job more than casual and they’re going to want a police report.” Greg wasn’t looking forward to any of it. He knew where he stood with the screws, on the inside. Out here, people played by different rules, and he didn’t know what they were yet. His left leg kept bouncing. He couldn’t sit still here. He needed to go.
“Well, keep in touch, and tell me when you get back. Oh, are you going to get in touch with Julie? She came and visited you, didn’t she?”
“Yes, she did visit, and no, I won’t be contacting anyone from around here.” He hadn’t thought about his old school friend for a long time. Maybe if his life hadn’t turned to shit, they might have gone somewhere––but that would have meant letting her get close. Trudy’s kids would be home from school soon. He should leave and get on the road where no one knew his face.
“So, have you had any yet? You’ve been out a week. Knowing what you were like before you went in, you must have been dying for it.”
He laughed, listening to his prim and proper sister, drinking whiskey at two in the afternoon and talking sex. He was a bad influence on her.
“I can’t believe you asked me that. No more whiskey for you.”
“I asked a lot worse in the past.”
“Before I went inside, maybe.”
“I’m sorry.” Trudy reached across to take his hand.
Greg pulled away.
“Don’t be sorry. You’re the one person I don’t want to treat me any different, and the answer is yes. Last night I met a lovely lady, in Gawler of all places.” Greg finished his whiskey as he remembered Beth. The thought of her was making him hard. It had felt way too good comforting her, yet another reason to move on. Bumping into her would just be awkward for both of them.
“As long as you haven’t knocked up one of the local girls, then it’s all right. I’m not surprised you scored … you appear buff, as my friend Cheryl would say,” Trudy laughed.
“Can I have her number?”
“No, you can’t … she’s married.” Trudy sighed agai
n. “I missed not having you around. Phil didn’t approve of me visiting, and I put my foot down for the first time in our marriage. He used to tell the kids I was visiting a friend in Adelaide once a month. It made me angry.” Trudy gulped down the rest of the whiskey.
“He’s looking out for you, and I’m glad about that.” She stared at her empty glass. He dreaded whatever it was she wanted to ask.
“Before you go, I need to talk to you about Uncle Fred’s farm. Now you’re out, you need to let the solicitors know what you want to do with it.”
“I don’t want to deal with it now … just let the manager keep looking after the place.” Greg tried to control his breathing. The room gave the impression of being smaller, and his chest tightened. He hadn’t felt this trapped, even in his cell.
“I think you should sell it.”
“No.” Greg snapped back. “Look, I’d better go before the kids get home.” He stood up and went to the sink to rinse his glass.
“I’d better brush my teeth so they can’t smell the booze. Whatever you want is fine by me. I’m just glad you’re out. I hated seeing you in that place.”
He’d never meant to cause her pain, but her eyes were watering. He walked across the kitchen and hugged her. He loved his sister, and made a promise to himself he wouldn’t let her down again.
****
Greg sat in his pick-up as Sam and Georgia walked up the street, two kids on their way home from school. Georgia was eight years old, with long hair in plaits. She thumped her older brother, and it reminded Greg of Trudy and himself, but in reverse. Sam was eleven. Turning the engine on, Greg drove down the road not looking in the rearview mirror. He needed to be away from happy families. He needed to be where there were no expectations, but first, he needed to visit someone else and say sorry. It was just a pity they would never hear the words.
The graveyard was quiet. Greg chuckled to himself: wasn’t that what they were meant to be? Standing at the gate, he saw only one other person visiting the dead and gone. He didn’t know if he should acknowledge the other person’s existence, or pretend they weren’t there. In the end, he nodded as they passed each other.
Taking a step inside, he knew exactly where Dad’s grave was. Greg’s chest hurt, his heart hurt. It didn’t make any difference, he couldn’t take back the past … and a part of him didn’t want to.
Chapter Three
“You’re pregnant? How the hell did that happen? I mean, I know how it happened, but you haven’t been near a man in the three years since…” Sara put down her cup with such force, the coffee spilt over the top.
“Since Jeff died,” Beth finished. Those were the words her best friend Sara couldn’t say, so Beth said them for her. Everyone kept trying to protect her from the grief and loss, but it hadn’t worked. Nothing had helped until the night with Greg. A night of passion and tears with a complete stranger had brought her back from the abyss. He’d held her while she wept for the first time since Jeff’s death. The more she cried and shook in his arms, the closer he had pulled her to him. She still remembered his words: “You’ll get through this, Beth. Sometimes, we find we’re stronger than we ever thought we could be.”
Beth believed they were kindred spirits, meant to meet that night. Up until this moment, she had reasoned spending the night with him had been the right thing to do. She had gained a sense of calm and acceptance of her situation. That calmness, now, was completely gone. She was pregnant from a one-night stand, not a kindred spirit. Her stomach churned at the thought.
“Beth, are you listening to me?”
Beth winced as the two women at the next table glanced over. If she didn’t have a baby growing in her womb, then there was a rat gnawing at her stomach, or the first signs of morning sickness. She sat forward to try and let her hair cover her face. One of the women had ordered a bouquet for her sick sister last week. She probably wouldn’t order any more.
“Maybe the tester’s wrong. Let’s wait ’til I get the blood test back.” It would be positive. It might be twelve years since her last pregnancy, but her breasts were tender like they had been with Keri and David. This shouldn’t be happening, but there was no one to blame but herself. Beth tried to steady her breathing, so the panic threatening to consume her didn’t take over.
“I haven’t seen anyone around your place. What did you do? Sneak him in after dark? Oh hell, it’s the guy who did the shed for you. You said he had a nice butt,” Sara replied, giving one of the waiters the eye. He winked at her. “Did you see that?”
Beth wasn’t surprised. Sara might be in her early thirties but was slim and attractive. Her friend would have given it all up to have a baby, but it had never happened. As a couple, they had done all the IVF stuff to no avail. Sara and Pete had done so much for her, and now she would be rubbing the salt in, being pregnant again.
“It wasn’t anyone you know. It happened when I went to see Christine. Dad had the kids, and Mum ran the shop for the weekend. Anne from the shop said she would come, but pulled out at the last moment. Said the whole idea of talking to the dead through some stranger freaked her out. I just––met someone.”
Sara’s eyes rolled at the mention of Christine. Nausea hit again. Beth was on the School Council and ran the local florist. People like her didn’t go off and spend nights with total strangers and get pregnant, even if they were hot total strangers.
“I’ve tried to set you up with a couple of guys, and you said no,” Sara quizzed.
“I was on my own, and Christine said things, things I didn’t want to hear. I was upset and didn’t want to drive back. I stayed at the local motel, and I met someone, that’s all.” Beth wanted Greg’s arms around her now, how stupid was that? She didn’t even know his last name. More than likely, he would run a mile in the opposite direction.
“You didn’t just meet someone, Beth … you had sex with him, and now you might be pregnant. What was his name?” Sara’s lips had a firm set to them, and her arms were folded across her chest. She wouldn’t give up until she knew more.
“He was in Gawler visiting his sister, and his name was Greg.” It made it real, saying his name out loud. Jeff had been gone three years, and yet she believed she was betraying him. Beth peered down so Sara couldn’t see the tears in her eyes.
“Are you insane? You could’ve gotten yourself killed. You’ve other kids. You can’t go off doing things like that. And what about protection? You could have gotten AIDS.”
The two ladies at the next table stopped talking and leaned toward them.
There go my Valentine’s Day sales, she thought.
“He did use some. I don’t know. Maybe I’m the one percent failure rate,” Beth whispered.
Beth was sure of one thing: she would lose all credibility with Keri. So much for safe sex talks with your sixteen-year-old daughter. Beth’s mind went back to the day before when she’d left the shower and stared in the mirror. When Jeff died, she’d let herself go. With the stress of the court case over his death, she’d stacked on the weight, going up to a size eighteen. With the help of the gym, she had achieved a fourteen. That elusive twelve had not seemed so far away. This time, she would have a huge abdomen, and there would be no Jeff to tell her she was beautiful. But Greg had, that night.
“Whatever you decide, we’ll be there for you.” Sara placed her hand over Beth’s.
Beth loved Pete and Sara so much. She wanted to do something for them, but she was always the one in need. Sara went to pick up her bag, but stopped.
“Hang on a minute. Did I hear you right … you said he used some, not one, but some? Beth. You go from abstinence to an entire night of rampant sex with a stranger. You’re mad, you do know that.” Sara kissed her cheek.
“I know, and if it hadn’t been for the two of you, I would’ve given up and fallen in a heap long ago. Look, I’d better get back. Mum said she could only cover for an hour.”
“Have you told them?”
“No.” Beth felt the blood drain from her f
ace at the thought of her mother’s reaction.
“Good luck. If you need some moral support, give us a call. I don’t think your mum has ever considered me a moral person, though.”
Sara stopped beside the two listening ladies at the next table.
“We’re having a girl’s night out at the pub on the corner, Saturday … male stripper, if you want to come.” Sara glanced backed and winked as one of the ladies choked on her vanilla slice.
****
Blackhill was a small community, and as her baby bump got larger, the tongues would be wagging as to the father’s identity. She didn’t care what people said to her, but the kids had been through enough, losing their dad. Her appointment at the doctor was for six, and until then she would convince herself everything was normal. She would work in the shop, and no one would know.
****
Beth parked down the street from her home. She couldn’t face her kids: they deserved better.
Jeff, where are you? Why did you stop talking?
She thought back to the day she had seen Christine, and the night she had slept with Greg, the father of the baby now growing inside of her.
****
Christine had showed her through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Beth sat and tried to fight back the urge to bite her thumbnail. She was never this anxious coming to see Christine, in fact up until that day, she was always happy. She felt like an ominous black cloud hung over her. Try as she could, it wouldn’t shift.
“I’m surprised to see you alone, Beth. I thought you were bringing a friend?”
“She couldn’t make it.” Beth had smiled as Christine walked over with her teapot shaped like an elephant. The dresser in the corner was full of teapots of all shapes and sizes. Beth especially liked the one that was a bunch of flowers with the tulip spout. It was the florist in her coming out, trying to work out how many different flowers were on the pot. Or maybe she was avoiding a conversation she didn’t want to have.
