Return to Totara Park

by Shirley Wine

  What was he making out of this?

  “You need to listen.” Quentin folded her hand in his and unconsciously Winsome clung to it. “And talk. Did you think if you didn’t talk, you couldn’t tell anyone what you’d seen?”

  Panic surged through her and she fought to free her hand but his grip tightened and she gave up the unequal struggle.

  “You cretin,” she hissed. “I’ve spent a lifetime wishing I could forget that night. Why should I talk about it?”

  “At least that’s honest. So why didn’t you talk until you were nine?”

  The words, so soft, so damning fell into the stillness. It seemed to Winsome that as they ricocheted around the room, they gained velocity.

  “My God, is that true?” Jared demanded looking at Winsome stunned. “You never talked until you were nine?”

  She turned on Jared spitting like a cornered cat, terrified she’d sink under the weight of shame. “Do you think I’d make up something that awful?”

  When he shook his head and spread his hands, the familiar gesture dissipated some of her panic.

  “Marrying Jared was the ultimate escape,” Quentin’s soft words were a knife thrust into the heart.

  “No.” It was the cry from a wounded soul.

  “Yes,” Quentin affirmed. “He was so strong, he gave you the security to bury your fears and lean on him. You latched onto that security, Winsome, and you fed off it.”

  Shaken by these callous words, a gasp escaped her. “Is that what you think?”

  “It’s not what I think that matters. What attracted you to my brother?”

  “His strength.” She didn’t have to think about it. “We skated across the ice and I knew he’d never let me fall.”

  Quentin nodded. “And to a homeless orphan with no family that was a powerful attraction.”

  She stiffened, glaring at him. “You don’t know what that’s like to have no home, no family, nothing.”

  “No I don’t know and I can’t even begin to imagine what you went through, but I don’t hold it against you. And I’m sure Jared didn’t either.”

  “You mother did,” she said bitterly resentful.

  Was Gaelen right when she had accused her of trading on her sex? Horrified, Winsome forced herself to confront that accusation. Did I trade sex with Jared for the safety and security he offered by marrying me?

  No. This was too much.

  She’d loved Jared, with all the desperation of a love-starved child.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself.” Quentin’s grip on her hands tightened. “You had a rotten childhood. No one could blame you for being insecure. Jared didn’t, did he?”

  “You know I didn’t,” Jared broke his silence, his gentle words doing much to ease her apprehension. “I loved you for yourself.”

  Winsome shot him a sick glance. Even in the midst of this nightmare she noted that he used the past tense. After this, she could never delude herself that he would love her again.

  “Given time your self-confidence would’ve grown, but for being plunged into living in the same house as Mother.”

  Winsome drew a deep steadying breath. Had she lived alone with Jared how different would things have been? “I tried to get Jared to find us somewhere else to live.”

  “It didn’t happen,” Quentin said with sober compassion. “And now no amount of wishing can change what did happen.”

  Winsome lifted a hand and covered her face as a stifled sob escaped. One mistake and her baby had paid with his life.

  “Why didn’t you tell Jared the whole truth about your childhood?”

  “At the time it didn’t seem important,” Winsome admitted in a harsh whisper.

  “It gave Mother a weapon to hold over your head.”

  As if she needed Quentin to underline this. Her own guilt made this a particularly heavy burden. Too often to count, she’d regretted not being open with Jared.

  She’d been afraid.

  Afraid her wonderful lover would stop loving her if she told him the dark, horrifying secret in her past. She’d failed to appreciate the depth of Jared’s love for her.

  “You thought Jared would blame you for something that was never your fault,” Quentin said very softly. “You loved Jared, but didn’t trust him enough to love you unconditionally in return.”

  Winsome had already worked this out for herself.

  “It was the biggest mistake of your life and has led you to the situation you’re in now,” Quentin said quietly. “I had no difficulty piecing together your background. Mother didn’t either.”

  “What are you getting at Quentin,” Jared asked watching them with a heavy frown.

  Quentin gave him a level look. “Answer me this, Jared, why do you have this burning need to probe Matthew’s death? Honestly?”

  Winsome watched Jared and knew there was no escape.

  “Because there’s something about the whole damn thing that’s not right,” Jared said half rising out of his chair and then flopping back down. He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “What happened that day, Winsome?”

  Winsome nearly choked on rage and grief.

  “Why do you want to know now?” she hurled at him rising out of her chair and facing him.

  Jared stood up and crossed the space but when he went to take her hands in his, she put them behind her and stepped backwards.

  “I want to know,” he said with dogged determination, his gaze never wavering. “Don’t I deserve to know the truth?”

  “Do you think you can cope with it?” she taunted, tears stinging at the back of her eyes.

  “Stop it, Winsome.” The words were dragged from him. “Whatever it is, get it said.”

  Suddenly it was too much and the shocking words came out in a choking rush.

  “When I was little, younger than Lacey, I saw my father stab my mother to death in a fit of jealous rage.” Winsome looked at her husband, her eyes filled with torment. “Then shoot himself.”

  “Oh my God.” Jared made the sign of the cross.

  To ward off evil?

  This instinctive action had Winsome backing up another step.

  I know my son, Winsome. When he discovers your past, be sure, he’ll throw you out on your sexy behind.

  Was Gaelen right?

  “How does that affect Matthew’s death?” Jared asked the muscle in his jaw jumping with tension as he clenched his hand into a fist.

  “You asked what happened that day?” she asked, her voice tinged with hysteria. She shook her head, almost overwhelmed with sorrow.

  “Please, Winsome.” Jared spread his hands in a pleading gesture as close to begging as she’d ever seen him. “Tell me.”

  There’s always hurt before the healing can begin, came a familiar gruff voice. The decision’s not yours, nor is the hurt. It’s Jared’s to deal with as he sees fit.

  “It’s not pretty.” The harsh words dropped into the stillness like pebbles in a pond. “Gaelen discovered the details of my parents’ deaths, and somehow dug out those damned psychiatrist’s reports that claimed I was mentally unstable because of what I’d witnessed as a child.”

  Winsome’s voice broke and she sucked in a harsh breath and then another. It was the only sound in the shattered stillness. Her stomach was so hot, so tight she feared she’d explode as the old stigma threatened to overwhelm her.

  You were a traumatised, unhappy little girl. There’s no slur attached to that lassie. No shame.

  The familiar voice steadied her and she managed another deep breath.

  “As if Gaelen has any right to criticise me.” Winsome was gripped by a fury that defied description. “She’s one sick, deranged woman.”

  “Deranged?” Jared voice was harsh as he stepped closer. “What in God’s name are you saying, Winsome?”

  “She considered my blood was tainted with mental instability and not at all fit to mingle with the exalted blood of a Grainger.” Savage anger filled each awful word as it was torn from her soul. “S
he told me my baby was genetically defective and on farms they were ruthless about things like that.”

  The breath Jared sucked in was harsh and ragged, his mouth opened and closed and his amber eyes were filled with horrified disbelief.

  “She drowned our baby, Jared,” Winsome said in a terrible voice, sucking in a harsh breath. “To use her own words, she put Matthew down.”

  For long, wordless moments Winsome looked at her husband. She watched the blood ebb from his face leaving his skin the colour of putty.

  She saw his mouth open and close and no words emerge.

  His amber eyes, so wide and horrified, were trained on her as he stood in front of her, shaking from head to toe.

  I’ll bet he never expected this.

  She glanced at Catherine. She too, was staring in wide-eyed horror.

  Winsome swallowed hard, anguish metallic on her tongue. Did they think she was imagining it? That Gaelen wasn’t capable of such a dreadful act?

  Trembling from head to foot, she rushed on, unable to stop the torrent of words now the dam was breached.

  “You want me to go and visit her,” she screamed, flinging out an agitated hand. “What do you expect me to do? Give her Lacey and tell her to drown her too?”

  The question sat in a shocked, horrified silence.

  She watched Jared wipe a hand across his clammy forehead and close his eyes, but Winsome hadn’t finished.

  “You asked why I left?” She stepped closer, her fierce words so bitter and so condemning. “Do you know why I left Totara Park? Why I left you?”

  “Why?” Jared had to try twice before the word emerged, his voice closely resembling the rusty creak of an old hinge.

  “A month after she killed Matthew, Gaelen sought me out to tell me new born babies were so much easier to kill.” Winsome swayed and Quentin’s hand shot out to support her. “She warned me she wouldn’t wait so long next time.”

  A cold and deadly calm settled over Winsome as she watched Jared shake his head. He stared at her with horrified disbelief.

  Didn’t he believe her?

  “Surely Mother would never have harmed, Matthew,” Jared said in a harsh cracked voice. “She loved him.”

  “You make me sick,” Winsome yelled, her control cracking. “You’re a blind gullible fool. Gaelen was looking after Matthew for me the day he died. I wasn’t even here.”

  “Dear God it can’t be true,” Jared looked from her to Quentin, begging one of them to refute the hideous conclusion. “That’s murder.”

  “Believe it, Jared.” Quentin cut across Jared’s shocked protest, his voice ringing with steel. “Why do you think I’m Lacey’s guardian? It’s to protect her from our mother.”

  Winsome looked into Jared’s shocked, disbelieving face and saw the bitter distrust, hatred and sheer loathing reflected in his eyes as he looked at her.

  His usually impassive face was, for once, easy to read. Shock had destroyed his defences.

  Unable to witness the death of his love, she turned on her heel, racing from the room. Standing a moment in the hallway, the mocking echo of Gaelen’s laughter rang in Winsome’s ears.

  I’ve won. I’ve won, she crowed victoriously. I know my son—

  Chapter Eleven

  With a cry of despair, Winsome held her hands over her ears and ran from the house, intent on putting as much distance as she could between herself and Jared and the mocking echoes. To watch her love be ground into the dust was asking her to endure far too much.

  She fled into the moonlit night, heedless of the freezing cold, the crunch of hoar-frost under her light slippers.

  The need to be alone drove her ever deeper into the crystalline darkness.

  The memory of Jared’s condemning expression drove her onwards. This time there was no one to hold her hand. Alone, friendless, unloved, even Quentin was tired of her.

  She never stopped running until she reached the barn where Fly had her puppies.

  She crept into the sheltering darkness, stumbling down against a bale of hay, and buried her head in her arms. With a tormented groan, she pressed the heels of her hands against her closed eyelids in a futile attempt to erase the horrible Technicolor images that would haunt her until the day she died. So lost in misery, so cold inside, she never felt the cold outside.

  —she’d woken that morning, fleeing to the bathroom as soon as she put a foot over the edge of the bed. Jared had held her head as she’d been sick, tenderly wiping her face with a damp cloth.

  “Lie down and I’ll bring you a cup of tea and some salt crackers.”

  Pale and lethargic, she obeyed. While she drank the tea and ate the crackers, Jared changed Matthew and gave him his bottle then set him on the bed beside her.

  “Say good morning to your mummy.” Jared leaned across her body touching her breast as he reached across to tickle the baby’s chin.

  Now fifteen months old, Matthew was a sturdy little boy. He was running everywhere on his bandy legs, moving so fast he kept her permanently on her toes keeping up with him.

  “Dad, dad, dad.”

  “This smacks of favouritism. It’s always dad, never mum.” Winsome smiled at her baby son.

  Matthew gave one of his delightful chortles and then responded. “Mum, mum, mum.”

  “There you are. A perfect diplomat.” Jared laughed delightedly, his amber eyes settling on her face. “Do you really think you’re pregnant again, sweetheart?”

  “I’m almost certain. How do you think our little treasure is going to like having a baby brother or sister?”

  “He’ll love it. You’ve got your blue-eyed son. Now I want an amber-eyed daughter.”

  Winsome leaned up and touched his tanned face. “You’ll have to take whatever comes.”

  “I know.” He gathered her close against his chest, stroking a tender finger down her cheek. “I promise to love and cherish this new baby whatever it is. I love you, Winsome, you’re my woman, my mate. You’re in my blood. You and Matthew,” he paused and slid his hand down over her flat abdomen in a possessive gesture, “and this new baby you’re making, are my whole reason for being.”

  He bent his head and kissed her with slow slumbering passion. He broke the kiss when Matthew grabbed his hair and used it to lever himself upright on the bed.

  “Hey, you little spoilsport, don’t you dare interrupt when I’m kissing your mummy.” Jared pushed him away, tickling his tummy until he was laughing peals of baby laughter.

  “I’d better go or I’ll cop it from the boss for being late.” He stood up stretching his long, lithe body as he stepped away from the edge of the bed. “I’ll catch you late-ish this afternoon. We’re going to Levelly for lunch. The manager wants a hand with some rails.”

  Winsome watched as he strode over to the door of their apartment and went whistling down the corridor to the kitchen. She stayed playing with Matthew as long as she could, always glad of any excuse to defer her morning meeting with Gaelen.

  If only she and Jared had a house of their own.

  She wouldn’t care how old or tatty. She would put up with anything to get out of this house run by her mother-in- law.

  Matthew started to grizzle. He wanted his breakfast.

  Just the thought of food was enough to send Winsome racing to bathroom. At breakfast she was overcome with another attack of nausea. When she returned to finish feeding Matthew, Gaelen started tormenting her.

  “Don’t tell me Jared’s little whore is pregnant again,” she sneered, laughing maliciously when Winsome paled. “You’re worse than a bitch on heat the way you keep my son dangling at your pants.”

  Winsome tightened her lips and stayed silent. It was her only defence against Gaelen’s vicious tongue. She was only thankful Paige had left for work. It was always worse when they were both here and she was alone without Jared’s presence to protect her from their venom.

  “You have no right to speak to Winsome like that,” Quentin protested, eyeing his mother with loathing. “Jar
ed would be livid if he knew how you treated his wife behind his back. Why don’t you tell Jared, Winsome?”

  “Because she’s too frightened of what I know about her to complain to Jared, aren’t you dear?” Gaelen’s smile was pure malice.

  “Well I’m not,” Quentin said getting to his feet his expression grim. “If she won’t tell Jared, I will.”

  Too ill to face Gaelen’s maliciousness this morning, Winsome scooped Matthew from his high chair and went out to the laundry to do their washing. She set the baby on the floor to play with the toys she kept there, while she put the first load of washing in the machine. She was staring in stony-eyed misery at the bucket of soiled napkins when Quentin came in and pushed the door closed behind him.

  “Is Mum blackmailing you, Winsome?”

  Almost eighteen and in his final term at college, Quentin was as tall as his elder brother but hadn’t yet reached his breadth of shoulder. He was open and honest and had been her friend from the day Jared had brought her home as a shy, insecure young bride.

  Winsome met his steely grey eyes and nodded bleakly.

  “Tonight I’m going to put a stop to it.” His grim expression reminded her of Jared when anything angered him. “I’m going to tell Dad and Jared what Mum is doing to you and Matthew. I can tell you that I’ll never let my wife share the same house as that bitch.”

  “Quentin don’t talk about your mother like that.”

  “It’s true,” he said hotly. “It’s not fair what she’s doing to you.”

  “What in life is fair?”

  All her life she’d been dogged by unfairness. She’d been teased and taunted about being a murderer’s daughter. Wherever she’d gone the whispers followed, until she’d married Jared.

  For three blissful months she had been in heaven until Gaelen had somehow discovered her guilty secret and made her life hell on earth.

  “Oh Winsome.” He slipped his strong young arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “Let me protect you if Jared can’t.”

  Carefully she disengaged herself, not wanting to damage his young pride and masculine ego. She had been hurt so often herself, she knew how easily young people his age could be wounded.