“Ain’t that the truth.”
They all laughed.
Cam looked across the living room to the large windows that gave a beautiful view of the large lawn and the Waitangi Forest beyond, and Dex followed his gaze. The setting sun stained the grass with orange and reflected off the river as it tumbled over the rocks.
“She is nice,” Cam said absently. “And that’s kind of why I don’t want to get involved, you know? She deserves a man who can give her a hundred percent of everything—attention, love, passion… And I don’t have that anymore. If we dated, she’d only be getting half a man. They buried part of me with your mother, Honey, and it wouldn’t be fair to Aroha to pretend otherwise.” He stopped talking and took a mouthful of his wine, ostensibly, Dex thought, to cover his emotion.
Honey’s arm tightened around him. He pressed a kiss on her hair. Cam and Marama had been married for thirty years. From what Honey had told him, they had met young and theirs had been a fiery but wholly committed relationship, with no talk of either of them ever being interested in anyone else. After being with someone that long, of course it would feel strange being suddenly alone. No wonder Cam couldn’t bear the thought of dating again.
Dex’s lips lingered on Honey’s hair as he inhaled the coconut scent she used. Would the two of them still be together in thirty years’ time? Married, making love, arguing and making love again, happy and content with half a dozen kids and a dozen grandkids?
He’d risked that golden future for one brief, forbidden kiss, and it sickened him. How could he have done that? How would he have felt if he’d have walked in tonight and Honey had been standing there, phone in hand, staring at him with hurt and betrayal and—God forbid—hatred on her face?
He closed his eyes momentarily to shut out the image. When he opened them, Cam was watching him. The older man didn’t smile, his handsome face serious and his eyes dark in the fading light. Dex wondered how much Honey had told her father about his past. Cam had never discussed it with him, until today. Even when he’d gone in to ask for her hand in marriage, Cam hadn’t given him a lecture about his behaviour or even a talk about how he had to treat Honey well or else.
All he had done was look Dex in the eye and say to him, “Do you love her?”
Dex had replied, with all sincerity, “More than anything, sir,” and at that Cam had nodded and they’d shaken hands to seal the deal. But did Cam now feel as if he’d gone too far for Dex? Panic enveloped him and he blinked, unable to tear his gaze away from Cam’s steady stare.
And then Cam smiled. “Don’t look so scared, Dex. I know the wedding’s only three days away, but if you carry on like this, you’ll pass out on the day.”
Honey looked up at him, and the concern that had flickered in her eyes when he’d first turned up reappeared in her green gaze.
“I’m okay,” he said. “Nervous that it’s still so far away. That I might lose her in the meantime.” That, at least, was the truth.
Cam raised an eyebrow. “That won’t end on Saturday, son. A wedding ain’t superglue. Only love and treating each other well is what’ll keep you together.”
“Says the man who once smashed half a dozen of my mother’s favourite cat ornaments in a fit of pique,” Honey said.
Cam had the grace to look embarrassed. “She broke my guitar.”
“What are you, twelve?”
“You’ll understand when you get there,” Cam said wryly. He pushed himself to his feet. “I’m going to watch a movie in the bedroom. Have a nice evening you two.”
“Night, Dad.” They watched him go, looking at each other and laughing as he disappeared, mumbling under his breath.
“Do you think we’ll still be together in thirty years?” Honey asked, snuggling up to Dex.
A wedding ain’t superglue. The words rang in Dex’s head, but he pushed them away, lifted her chin and kissed her. “Forever and ever, amen,” he murmured, meaning it, hoping beyond hope that it was true.
Chapter Sixteen
Honey had to drag herself out of bed on Thursday morning. The thought of the coming day at court hung over her like a raincloud, making her grumpy as she helped prepare breakfast. By the time everyone was seated around the table, she’d snapped at every one of her sisters and soured the atmosphere as sure as squeezing lemon into milk.
“Honey,” her father said firmly as he took his seat at the head of the table, “for God’s sake, take your bad mood elsewhere if you can’t control yourself.”
Tears pricked her eyes—he so rarely snapped that she knew she must have deserved it. She covered her emotion by giving a hoarse apology, pushed herself away from the table and walked stiffly to her bedroom, hearing the hushed whispers of her family behind her and knowing she’d shocked them with her unusual temper.
It was her youngest sister who came in to find her.
“Are you okay?” Lily perched on the edge of the dresser. Small, slender and dark, Lily had seemed the most affected by their mother’s death, and she was the only one of her sisters that Honey still worried about on a regular basis.
Honey adopted a bright smile. “I’m fine. Just nervous about today.” It was partly true. She pushed the ever-present fear about Dex away and came over to give Lily a hug. “How are you?”
Lily shrugged. “Okay.”
“What are you working on today?” Lily had a day off, and usually she spent her spare time indulging in her favourite hobby—painting.
Lily’s eyes lit up. “I’m starting a new piece. I was looking at pictures of Jupiter last night, with its huge spot and swirling clouds, and it gave me an idea for a series of abstract paintings based on the planets.”
“What a great idea.” Honey hugged her again. “I don’t know where you get all your inspiration. I couldn’t dream these things up in a million years.”
Lily hugged her back. “Are you sure you’re okay? Don’t brush me off. You’re worried about Dex, aren’t you? What has he done? Is he misbehaving?” Her manner was only a little teasing. The whole family knew about his troubled youth.
Honey pulled back, her eyebrows rising, although she wasn’t sure why she was so surprised. Her sister had always had a special knack for reading people’s emotions. “He hasn’t done anything.” She turned away and pulled on her jacket, not wanting to worry her baby sister. “Everything’s fine.”
“Honey…” Lily folded her arms. “If you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to? I know you don’t want to worry Dad.”
“I don’t want to worry you either,” Honey pointed out wryly.
“I’m not made of paper,” Lily said. She looked down at the floor. “I know I’ve not been the most…resilient of people. I know I haven’t coped with everything as well as I could have. But that doesn’t mean I’m fragile. Everyone acts like I’m going to slit my wrists if they tell me something negative, but I’ve never been like that.”
“I know,” Honey said.
“I miss Mum,” Lily said. “But I think that’s allowed, you know? The others all do too but they try and hide it, as if it will somehow go away if they ignore it. But I’ve never been like that. I’d rather face up to something. I’m not afraid to feel, you know?” She spoke fiercely, passionately. She’d always been like that, Honey thought. Somehow experiencing things on a deeper level than everyone else.
Perhaps she’d been too protective of her little sister. The very fact that she was the baby of the family meant they’d spoiled her, indulged her, and when Marama had died, they’d tried to protect her and wrap her in cotton wool as if they could somehow muffle the pain. But it hadn’t worked and all it had done was made Lily feel patronised. Although only twenty-one, she was an adult. She didn’t deserve to be mollycoddled.
Honey sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Okay, I give in. I don’t have anything concrete to tell you. It’s more instinct, you know? A gut feeling. Something doesn’t feel right, but I don’t know what it is. Dex seems…distracted. And I worry that he’s having second th
oughts.”
“About marrying you?” Lily studied her thoughtfully. “I very much doubt that’s the case. He’s waited an awfully long time to get you down the aisle, and he doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who takes to celibacy easily.”
Honey’s lips twisted as Lily’s eyes sparkled. “No.”
“I don’t get the impression he’s suddenly changed his mind,” Lily continued.
“But something’s bothering him.”
Lily shrugged. “What happened last time is bound to play on his thoughts. At the moment he associates weddings with negative emotions, with anger and possessiveness and fear. It sounds like last time he agreed to marry Cathryn the Crackpot even though he knew deep down she wasn’t the love of his life. He did it out of duty, and he regrets that. It’s probably making him uncomfortable, remembering that day.”
“Hmm.” Honey wasn’t convinced. Dex hadn’t looked uncomfortable. He’d looked like he was trying to find a way to tell her he didn’t want to marry her, but he’d chickened out.
Still, maybe Lily had a point. Perhaps she should just accept he was going to think about the past and wait for the storm to blow over. It would have been easy for him to call it off last night—she’d given him every opportunity. But he’d insisted he still wanted to marry her. What was she trying to do—talk him into it?
She sighed. Worry about the day ahead made her shoulders sag. “I wish it was Saturday,” she whispered. “I wish it was all over.”
“I know.” Lily got up and came over to hug her again. “Chin up, sis. You’re marrying the man of your dreams! I wish I was in your shoes.”
That made Honey smile. “Oh, your Mr. Right is out there somewhere, sweetie. Don’t you worry. You’re only twenty-one—you have years of fun and romance ahead of you yet.”
Lily looked doubtful. She’d only had one boyfriend, and Honey wasn’t sure they’d slept together. “I guess.”
“Of course you have. You just need to get out more!” She stood and shooed her sister with her hands. “Now go on and let me get ready. I’ve got to be at court in half an hour—I have to get moving.”
They kissed and Lily left. Honey sighed and straightened her jacket in the mirror. After Daisy had moved in with Reuben, Honey had taken over the motherly role of the family—not that Daisy had been that good at it anyway. Daisy had been better at bossing everyone around and organising the practical side of the household, but Honey had always been the heart of the house, providing a listening ear to all their troubles and a comforting hug should one be needed. She enjoyed the role, but with it came all the worries of a parent too, as well as the concern that she should be doing more, and the anxiety about what would happen when she left to move in with Dex.
She surveyed herself in the mirror, noting the frown lines between her eyes and the dark rings beneath them. She didn’t look like a bride-to-be. She should be excited, double-checking all the arrangements for Saturday and throwing hissy fits because the flowers were the wrong shade. But worry about the big day was almost the last thing on her mind.
Her watch read eight thirty. She should get going. She didn’t want to be late for court.
Hesitating for a moment, she crossed the bedroom to the wardrobe. Hanging on the side was her wedding dress, covered in a blue plastic zipped bag. She brought it around and hung the hanger on the front of her wardrobe, then unzipped the bag part of the way.
Her breath caught in her throat, and she reached out to brush the layered skirt. Fashion dictated that meringues weren’t stylish anymore and to be elegant one had to wear a long straight strapless dress in empire line or ‘fit and flare’, but Honey had passed impatiently over those styles in the catalogues. Why should she choose a dress she could have got away with at a dinner party? She’d wanted something magnificent and princess-like, straight out of a Disney movie.
In the end, she’d chosen a breathtaking tulle and sequin ball gown with lace appliqués, spaghetti straps and a sweetheart neckline. It was demure and dignified and utterly impractical, and she wanted to wear it all day every day for the rest of her life.
She fingered the tulle, unable to believe she’d get a chance to wear it. And then she sighed, frustrated at her own lack of confidence. Her therapist had told her that she had to believe in herself before she could expect other people to. If she didn’t think she deserved to be happy then other people wouldn’t either. It had not been an easy lesson for her to learn, but she’d been getting there. But the recent events were causing all the old feelings of worthlessness to rise to the surface.
She zipped up the bag, imagining as she did so the old Star Trek adage of “Shields up!” A firm fan of The Next Generation and Jean-Luc Picard, the therapist had suggested the mental manoeuvre whenever she felt the need to protect herself, and it had proved surprisingly successful. And sure enough, as she encased herself in her mental armour, her resolve stiffened and her confidence grew. She would go to court and do her best to sort out the case, and then she would be free to concentrate on her wedding. The wedding that was definitely going to go ahead because she loved Dex and Dex loved her, and that was all that mattered.
Chapter Seventeen
An hour later, Honey’s protective shield was wobbling under the direct onslaught of resentment and even anger from ten of the other jury members.
They’d entered the jury room after being counselled by the judge to concentrate on the matter at hand—namely whether Sarah Green was guilty of intending to do James Hill serious harm on the night in question. The judge directed them to focus on the facts and only the facts—in other words to leave their emotions outside of the jury room.
Honey couldn’t do it. How could she? Sarah had turned distressed eyes on the twelve men and women as they’d shuffled from the courtroom, worry written all over her face. Would she be able to tell how each of them would vote just by looking at them? Honey had an idea how the decision would go, and her suspicions—and fears—had been confirmed when they seated themselves at the table and Tom, the foreperson, suggested they start by taking an initial vote to see where everyone stood.
She and Alice, an older woman with grey hair, had voted Sarah innocent.
The other five women and all the men voted her guilty.
And so here she was, sitting at the table, being glared at by the majority of the jurors who were fed up and wanted to go home.
“Shit.” Matt—the aggressive investment banker—stood and slammed his chair under the table. “I knew it. What a fucking waste of time this is going to be.”
“There’s no need for that sort of language,” Tom said. “Everyone is entitled to their opinion. We’re here to talk about the evidence and make sure we all come to an agreement.”
Honey was determined not to let the brash suit browbeat her. “This is a woman’s future we are deciding here,” she said as calmly as she could manage. “Surely it warrants at least a small amount of discussion before we come to a decision.”
“That’s true,” one of the women said. “It’s fair that we at least talk about it for a little while.”
Matt leaned on the workbench where there were coffee-making facilities and biscuits, and his eyelids lowered as he surveyed Honey.
She could guess what he was thinking, because he was like a carbon copy of Ian. That she must be having her period because she was being obstreperous. That she was doing it just to annoy him. And that she was the worst sort of woman—opinionated, un-charmable and stubborn.
As she lowered her gaze, intimidated by his hard stare, she knew he would also think of her as a challenge, someone he could bully into doing what he wanted.
Her fists clenched in her lap. She forced her fingers to unfurl, poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the table and drank it slowly.
There were two Peters in the jury. The one they’d all named Peter1 wore scruffy workman’s clothes and had stated he worked in the building trade. He had a devil-may-care attitude and Honey suspected that he probably had
half a dozen girls on the go who didn’t know about each other, but she found herself liking him nevertheless. He leaned forward and also poured himself a drink before saying, “So do you two really think Sarah didn’t mean to take that knife to James?”
Honey glanced at Alice, who sat a few chairs down from her. The older woman looked flustered, and Honey thought maybe she had voted Sarah innocent because she couldn’t bear to be responsible for sending someone to prison.
Alice glanced back at Honey and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just think it’s worth talking about.”
“He was a bastard,” said Babs, a mutton-dressed-as-lamb blonde, pursing her red lips, “and he deserved it. He’d obviously been asking for it. But I don’t think I can say hand on my heart that she didn’t do it on purpose.”
“But he’s proved himself to be manipulative,” Honey said. “Sarah’s counsellors testified that she’d been under his thrall for years.”
Peter2 snorted. The owner of a small computer store who obviously thought himself an expert on the law because he read legal thrillers, he wore a suit he’d clearly worn for every smart social occasion for the last ten years that stretched a little too tight across his stomach. “What do you mean ‘under his thrall’? This isn’t Twilight. He hasn’t hypnotised her.”
“Some people are more easily influenced than others,” Honey said. “Sometimes in a relationship, it’s easy to end up doing the things your partner wants because you like to please them, or to keep the peace. If one partner realises that by sulking or making the atmosphere unpleasant they can get their own way, it can easily develop into manipulation.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that she knifed him,” Matt said.
Tom cleared his throat and leaned forward. He reminded Honey of her grandfather, Cam’s dad, who had died a few years before they moved from England. Thank God he had stepped forward to take on the role of foreperson.
“I suggest we get ourselves a cup of tea or coffee, then sit down and go around the table,” he said. “Each of us should take a few minutes to give our point of view. Everyone should have a say as to why they think Sarah Green is guilty or innocent. After that, we’ll take another vote and see where we stand.”
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