by Margaret Way
“Maybe I’m hurting too much,” he said involuntarily, but it was too late to recall those revealing words.
“Are you trying to make me feel more guilty?”
“Are you? Marvellous,” he mocked. “How come you lied so easily? How come you couldn’t even warn me?”
“I told you. I couldn’t go against Dad. I know it was wrong but why are you being so hard on me? Is it me or do you distrust all women?”
“Not until I met you,” he scoffed. Why was he being so hard on her? Hell, he didn’t know. In a way it was an irrational reaction or he recognised a woman like her could hurt him badly.
“So there was never any thought of starting again?” she asked sadly.
“I invited you to lunch, didn’t I?” He smiled at her. “It isn’t as if I’m not fighting my disillusionment. It’s probably because I expected so much of Owen and as an extension, you.” You’re the woman I wanted the minute I saw you, he thought, desire at full throttle even in broad daylight. My God!
“So what do I have to do to make peace?” she pleaded, looking at him over the rim of her wineglass.
“Just let me see enough of you,” he said.
That made her extraordinarily confused. And for a moment blindingly excited, which was a measure of his powerful effect on her. She knew she couldn’t withstand the force of this man’s intentions. “Are you serious?”
“Oh, I am.”
Another white taut smile as though in self-contempt.
“But we can’t do it in one afternoon,” he added smoothly.
“You’re saying you think I should move north with Dad?”
He gave a brief laugh. “I know it sounds bizarre given my former defensive—”
“Censorious—” she was moved to point out.
“Attitude.” He ignored her. “We should try being friends just to see what it’s like.”
She knew he was baiting her. “It could be a dangerous thing to do.”
“It could,” he mocked bitingly. “Good to do all the same.”
Whatever note was in his voice it ravished her, proving beneath her coolness was a young woman’s wild, beating heart.
CHAPTER FIVE
SIX weeks later Eden found herself flying over the Tropic of Capricorn. Spread out below were glorious lyrical landscapes not to be missed. To the west loomed the rugged purple bastions of the Great Dividing Range. To the east, the Great Barrier Reef, one of the wonders of the world. Its coral ramparts, as solid as sandstone, followed the Queensland coastline for almost half its two thousand mile seaboard. From Capital to Cape. The Cape being Cape York Peninsula, a 100,000 square mile area of white beaches, aquamarine seas and prodigal jungle, off limits to most people, even at the turn of the twenty-first century. In between lay the lush coastal strip, the river valleys and rainforests, so vastly different in character to the sun-scorched immensity of the hinterland that lay behind the Range. That was the Outback. The Never Never. Cattle country. It was there the historic cattle stations spread their enormous “runs” to the Gulf of Carpentaria and the Northern Territory border. Sheep lands kept their distance fanning towards the central plains. A fabulous treasure trove of minerals lay everywhere beneath the ancient earth’s crust, its wealth only now being tapped. She knew Lang’s ancestral home, Marella Downs, was beyond the larkspur mountains. Maybe if she were lucky she would get to see it.
An hour into her flight and the captain announced they were over cane country. Sugarcane was the eternal presence of the tropical North. Hundreds of miles of ripe tall grasses, vivid green tipped with purple. It was a landscape of brilliant blue skies, green cane and bright red ochre earth, where the fallow paddocks formed a colourful mosaic. This was soil so rich almost anything would grow. Where the cane stopped the great mango plantations took over, the exotic fruits, the tea and coffee plantations, dairy cattle, stations that specialized in fattening beef cattle on the abundant vegetation. An astonishing number of small farms grew lucerne and other pastures for the herds.
The Tropic of Capricorn lay five hundred miles from Brisbane. It would be almost an hour before she arrived at her father’s estate at Paradise Cove. This was to be a “visit” with the duration unspecified. Relations between her and Delma were by no means cordial. In fact they had scarcely progressed. They had only passing contact during the week Delma had remained in Brisbane before returning home to her small son, mercifully with no more talk of impending divorce. The fact was Delma loved her husband, as Owen had put it, right or wrong.
Eden had seen her father daily during his hospital stay, but neither of them got around to discussing Delma until Owen indicated, just as Lang had predicted, he expected Eden to come North with him as soon as he was discharged. Her own family home had been sold on her insistence. She and Redmond shared the proceeds. She had moved in with her grandfather to be of comfort only to find him inconsolable after her mother’s death. As he would remain for the remainder of his life. He didn’t try to dissuade her when she told him she had found a temporary home of her own, a rented apartment of good address. Maybe, eventually, she would buy it. For now her life was on hold, although she had gone back to work since. Redmond had resigned his partnership and gone off on his travels. The last postcard she had was from the city of Bandung in West Java. She had confided the true state of affairs to only her two closest girlfriends, knowing they would respect her confidence until the time for a full disclosure was right.
As for Lang? They had fallen into the habit of speaking over the phone. Sometimes twice a week. Odd calls. Calm and communicative on the surface, both filling the other in on what was happening in their lives, but disturbing nevertheless.
She couldn’t shield herself from the knowledge she was falling more and more beneath his spell. He interested, excited and disconcerted her. Often she walked around in a half daze after a call. She feared that kind of magnetism, even as she invited it, continuing to hold these oddly intimate conversations. It wasn’t as though she hadn’t had plenty of admirers in her life. A few she definitely didn’t want including two who had engaged her heart without moving her towards making a deeper commitment. Lang Forsyth was utterly different to them all. No one had his charisma, that compelling magnetism, that built-in strength. In some ways he was as hard and brilliant as a diamond. She found that daunting and fascinating at the same time.
It was Lang who had urged her to accept Delma’s invitation. Delma had made the first overture by phone, taking over from Owen to assure her they all wanted her to come.
“Roberto is very excited at the thought of meeting his sister,” Delma had told her, with her very first show of generosity of spirit.
It hadn’t clinched anything for Eden. She dearly wanted to meet her little half brother but she knew Delma had more or less been forced into making that decision to please her husband. But always in the background was her ever-present desire to see Lang again. Not that anything could possibly come of it. He was a very complex man and he carried his own emotional baggage. As for herself? She was still suffering much grief from the loss of her mother and self-destruction of her grandfather. She hoped with all her heart Redmond Sinclair would find the strength of purpose to throw off the shackles of the past. It would only take another woman. The right woman this time.
From the moment she felt the tropical sun on her face and head, Eden knew everything was different. The sights, the sounds and the smells. There was an enormous clarity and brilliance to the air. The Great Divide and the magnificent peaks of Bellenden Kerr and Bartle Frere reared thousands of feet into the air, providing a marvellous deep indigo backdrop for all the spectacular tropical flowering and vegetation. It was hot, of course. Very hot. And humid. She could feel tendrils of her long hair stuck to her nape. This was still the Dry. Christmas was a month off. But the Wet, according to her father was the best time to see the tropics. Then, new life seethed in the warm volcanic soils. Spectacular monsoonal storms loomed in from the Coral Sea; thunder rumbled along the range, its
jagged peaks seared by great pyrotechnics of lightning. But the best thing about arriving on the verge of the Wet was the bush and the rainforest burst into prolific flower. The great poincianas turned into magnificent scarlet umbrellas, the yellow cascaras bloomed, the orange and scarlet tulip trees, the great mango trees and the ever-present brilliant parasite of the tropics, the bougainvillea; crimson, mauve, purple, white, along with bromeliads the wealth of orchids including the State emblem, the purple Cooktown orchid.
As Eden walked down the steps of the aircraft she could feel her own blood rise. A chattering crowd of tourists walked along with her across the tarmac. All of them were off to the beautiful Barrier Reef resorts. She felt such excitement! She so wanted this visit to be a huge success. She prayed Delma would have had time to relax her attitude and be friendly. But may be it was in the nature of things Delma would always be plagued by some jealousy. Only time would tell.
Eden saw her father the minute she walked into the terminal. He looked wonderful, fit and healthy, the joy of instant recognition paralleling her own. He was such a big imposing man that for a moment she didn’t notice the handsome little boy, who was hiding shyly behind his father’s long legs. Robbie! Her little brother. Eden’s heart swelled with emotion. Robbie had a strong look of their father. The same head of thick dark curls and their father’s fine dark eyes, down to the shape and setting. Delma showed her Italian blood with her colouring, glossy olive skin, a luxuriant head of dark hair, which she had auburn rinsed, and large, flashing dark eyes, but Robbie to Eden’s eyes was much more his father than his mother. And he was going to be tall. She, in fact, was five seven, four inches taller than her petite mother had been. Perhaps height was her only physical link with her father apart from a few mannerisms.
Such was Owen’s longing to see his daughter he reached her flying figure before she reached him, gathering her into a great bear hug.
“Eden, sweetheart!” he breathed. “I’m so thrilled you’re here.”
She drew back a little, reached up and kissed his cheek. “Dad! It’s wonderful to be here.”
“You had a good trip?” His eyes moved over her with the greatest pleasure.
“Fine. Smooth as a pond. And who’s this?” she asked, joyously. Robbie was standing a foot from her staring up at her with his big beautiful soulful eyes. “I know who it is, it’s my brother, Robbie.”
Her hand came out to grasp the little boy’s, instead the grave searching look turned into a brilliant glow and the little boy, with a look of excitement and delight suddenly rushed forward and gripped Eden around the waist.
“Aren’t you beautiful!” he cried. “Poppa said that you were. I hope you’re going to stay with us forever and ever.”
Eden could feel the emotional tears spring to her eyes. “Why that’s lovely, Robbie.” She smiled. “I know we’re going to be the greatest friends. I have something for you in my bag.”
“Have you? What is it?”
“Can’t tell.” She shook his hand. “It’s a surprise. But I think you’re going to love it.”
Owen was grinning delightedly at the both of them, his expression full of love, and a certain satisfaction. “I’ll leave Robbie with you for a few minutes, Eden. I’ll get the baggage cleared then we can set off home.”
“I’ll take care of her, Poppa,” Robbie said with aplomb, taking Eden’s hand and leading her off to the rows of seats as though their common blood had provided them with an inbuilt affinity. “Mamma’s at home,” he told her conversationally, after they both settled. “She didn’t want me to come so I had to do a little yelling. Poppa came home and told me to cut it out, and said that I could go.”
Eden’s first reaction was a stab of dismay but she willed herself to ignore it.
“I’m so glad, Robbie,” she said. “I couldn’t have waited a minute more to meet you. I think it’s the most wonderful thing I have a brother. And you’re so much like Dad.”
“Everyone says that.” Robbie took his handsomeness for granted. “Do you call him Dad?” He turned to her, watching her closely.
“Of course I do. He is my father.” Eden was matter-of-fact. “I love calling him Dad.”
Robbie considered that, leaning forward in his seat with his elbows on his knees. “I think I’ll call him Dad, too. It sounds more grown-up. Do you want to hear me crack my knuckles?”
“Sure. Really that’s very good,” she said when he’d finished, then to distract the little boy in case he started again, asked where he went to school.
Robbie shook his head slowly, looking so much like Owen, Eden nearly laughed. “It’s a private school. Seymour College. It’s really boring. Not my favourite place, even if us kids can do what we like. You know, go out and play instead of sitting inside having lessons. I’m a gifted kid,” he tossed off and grinned.
“Are you?” Eden’s smile had real warmth.
“That’s what they tell me,” Robbie said. “I can do pretty much everything they show me. I could read when I was three. I’m a whiz at sums. Just like Pop…just like Dad,” he corrected himself. “It was Mamma’s idea. Dad wanted me to go to St. Anthony’s for a couple of years. Then I would have to catch the bus. Mamma always drives me to Seymour and picks me up. She screams the place down if she can’t see me straightaway. She screams so much. Once she told my teacher off something awful. Mrs. Spillane takes off every time she sees her. Mamma always thinks someone is going to kidnap me.”
Eden drew a sharp breath. “Oh goodness, Robbie.” She hadn’t considered such a thing even when she knew her father was a very rich man.
Robbie laughed, an infectious little boy chuckle. “Dad said anyone who stole me would soon give me back. Lang won’t buy it, either.”
“The kidnapping bit?”
Robbie imitated a deep male groan. “Lang told Dad, Mamma was into serious melodrama. I heard him say it. The minute they left the study I went to look it up. It means being sensational.”
Eden nodded. “Probably it’s because your mother loves you so much she gets anxious.”
“She says no to everything,” Robbie said in a wry voice. “Even kids’ parties. Dad is the one who always says I can go. He says Mamma is keeping me from being an ordinary kid.”
Eden was saved an answer even if she could have found one; Owen joined them, wheeling Eden’s luggage. “What are you two chattering about?” he asked.
“Nuthin’,” Robbie laughed. “Can I call you Dad?”
“Sure you can.” Owen reached over and ruffled his son’s head.
“No way I’m gonna go back to Poppa,” Robbie said, jumping up and trying to take control of the trolley. “I’m going to call you Dad just like Eden.”
Paradise Cove was an hour’s drive in a big powerful Mercedes from the domestic airport. Eden sat in the back seat with Robbie. He had insisted she join him so he could hold her hand, and point out all the sights. They had left the main highway some time back, now they were climbing and the vistas of turquoise-blue sea and emerald off-shore islands were becoming more sweeping and spectacular. Lining the route on both sides like the most flamboyant of guardrails were the bougainvilleas, banks and banks of them, brilliant with colour: cerise and mauve. These were the originals from which so many hybrids had come. The hybrids though lovely in colour and relatively thornless couldn’t match the original stock for sheer size and vigour.
“Look, Eden, you can see the house now,” Robbie suddenly cried excitedly, leaning across her to point. “It’s the big white one at the very top of the hill. Lang says it’s like a great white heron came to rest. Lang is my godfather, did you know? Stop the car, Dad,” he yelled. “Let’s get out for a minute. There’s nothing around.”
Owen answered indulgently, pulling over onto the grassy verge. “All right, son.”
Eden gazed for a long time, holding tight to her excitable little brother’s hand. “How absolutely perfect.”
Owen threw her a proud glance, thinking how much the exotic setting was suiti
ng her. She looked as much at home as an orchid in the rainforest. “I gave the architect a free hand. Clever chap. Lang found him for me. I’d bought the piece of real estate years back when no one thought the North would take off like it has. I wanted the house to look gracious. I wanted it to look like it belonged, looking out over the blue sea.”
“It’s beautiful,” Eden said, the shimmer of tears misting her vision.
“You won’t ever want to go away, Eden,” Robbie assured her, looking up into her face.
“Dad’s here. I’m here. Uncle Lang’s here. This is home,” Robbie cried with perfect joy.
Even at six, Eden noted, he had the perception not to include his mother.
It had to be one of the landmark estates in the area, Eden thought. She had seen some marvellous houses along the way, all overlooking the sea with its exquisite colourations. A deepwater marina was in evidence with the balmy backdrop of off-shore islands and coral cays.
“We have about seven acres,” Owen told her. “And a private waterfront.”
“We can play together on the beach,” Robbie promised happily. “There’s going to be so much to do. My school has already broken up. Other kids have to go to school for another week.”
The house was set behind a high wrought-iron fence and a set of privacy gates allowing views of the beautifully landscaped grounds, ablaze with colour; flowering poincianas and towering palms. To Eden’s eyes the house was classic two-story Mediterranean. It could have clung to a cliff anywhere along the French Riviera or decorated a beachfront property in Florida, U.S.A.
Delma met them in the marble-floored foyer, a glamorous figure in a brilliantly patterned one-shouldered patio dress, her thick hair massed around her face with its dark honey tan.
“Eden, how wonderful to see you. Welcome to our home.” She swooped on Eden, kissing the air to both sides of Eden’s cheeks.
“It’s very kind of you to have me, Delma,” Eden responded, realising Delma had felt compelled to establish this was her territory.
