Home to Eden

by Margaret Way

  “The answer’s yes.”

  IT WAS A LITTLE after two when both young women walked out into the sunlit street.

  “You have to find the time to spend a day with me on Eden,” Nicole suggested. “It’s been so good to see you. Thank you so much for the wedding invitation and the photograph. I’ll treasure it. Say hello to Brock and your family for me.”

  “I will. I hope I haven’t upset you, Nic,” Shelley said quietly, giving Nicole a hug. “I value our friendship.”

  “Friends stick together,” Nicole said, noticing the lanky young man watching them from across the street, his black akubra tilted way down over his eyes.

  Shelley followed the direction of her gaze. “That’s Joel now,” she said, her smiling face turning sober.

  “If you don’t want to meet up with him, go now,” Nicole urged her softly.

  Too late. Joel dodged a dusty four-wheel drive to join them on the sidewalk.

  He moved close to Nicole, took her arm in a gesture that anyone would have interpreted as possessive. “Hi, Shelley Logan. How’s it goin’?”

  “Fine, thank you, Joel.” Shelley gave him a pleasant smile.

  “And how’s that handsome dog of a fiancé of yours?”

  A little pause. “He’s well, Joel. Working hard.”

  “Seems he doesn’t want me at your wedding?” Joel’s voice held challenge. “How about you?”

  A longer pause while Shelley began to edge away a little. “We had to keep the numbers down, Joel. I hope you understand.”

  “I bet you gave my beautiful Nikki here an invitation.” Joel shifted his gaze to his cousin.

  “Of course I did,” Shelley answered in a different voice. Crisp and cool. “She’s my friend.”

  “Now that is being candid.” Joel looked amused. “Obviously I’m not.”

  “Can’t you leave this, Joel,” Nicole broke in, not knowing where it would end. Shelley Logan was no marshmallow. She had a temper. “Shelley and I have had a very enjoyable meeting. Don’t spoil things.”

  “I didn’t know I was spoiling things,” Joel drawled, at the same time giving Shelley a look of open dislike. “I’d just like to know why Shelley and her goddamn fiancé found it necessary to leave me out. Just about everyone for miles around has been invited.”

  “Maybe they thought they couldn’t count on your good behavior, Joel,” Nicole said sharply, sensing more than one passerby was looking at them.

  “Why, sweetheart, of course. I didn’t consider that.” Joel turned his gaze on her, grinned.

  Nicole spun on him. “Have you been drinking?”

  Joel nodded briefly. “It’s not a crime to have a beer.”

  “Because you know you’re flying home.”

  “Stop fussin’, Nikki. I’m fine. Say goodbye to Shelley now. She’s borrowed you long enough.”

  Nicole felt suddenly ashamed of him, as though what people were saying was true. Joel was unstable. “It’s been lovely, Shelley. We’ll be in touch.”

  “I’ll keep a day free,” Shelley promised.

  “Great!”

  They exchanged another brief hug, while Joel, shifting his weight from foot to foot, looked on. “See you, Joel.” Shelley paused briefly to include him, despite his obvious hostility. Nicole noted the twisted smile on his face. She was glad Shelley had told her about Joel. She watched as Shelley turned and walked quickly away.

  “Are you aware you upset her?” Nicole asked Joel as they walked to the corner of the main street. They needed a cab to take them to the airstrip.

  “Who the hell cares!” Joel shrugged. “She and dear old Brock upset me. The big man now with all old Kingsley’s authority. Who would have thought the penniless little Logan kid could land a cattle baron?”

  Nicole felt her indignation rise. “Brock is very lucky to have won Shelley’s hand. She’s a lovely person. Clever and brave.”

  “Boo-hoo,” Joel jeered. “She’s a judgmental little bitch.”

  Nicole turned to him in shock. “Why ever would you say that?”

  “I can see it in her eyes.”

  “You deliberately upset her, Joel. When you’re in a mood, it affects everyone. You shouldn’t drink. You’re one of those people who get aggressive. You went out of your way to offend her, and there was nothing I could do to stop you.”

  “Look, dammit, I was angry. I could have gone to the wedding with you.”

  “Is that what it’s all about?” Nicole said in wonderment. “You and Brock Tyson have never been friends. Why should you expect an invitation?”

  “What did she tell you?” Joel’s good-looking face was stony.

  “About what?”

  “Don’t play games with me, Nikki.” He took her arm in a viselike grip.

  Nicole was shaken and embarrassed. People out in the street were watching them. “Stop it,” she said coldly. “Let go of my arm and quit flinging yourself around.”

  “If anyone tried to turn you against me, I’d kill them.” He released her arm but his voice remained angry.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Nicole said. “You have to learn to control your temper, Joel. People perceive you as a threat. You scare them.”

  “You don’t ever have to be scared of me.” He gave her a tender look.

  “I should darn well think not,” she responded tartly. “I could toss you out of Eden if I chose to.” Immediately as she said it she was ashamed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. You have as much right to be on Eden as I have. Only, Granddad left it to me.”

  “Aunt Corrinne wanted me to go,” he said in a voice that seemed to come from a long distance. “Did you know that?”

  “Go where?”

  He grimaced painfully. “Anywhere. Away from you.”

  On a reflex Nicole grabbed his arm. “She told you this?”

  “She told Dad.”

  A few people were waiting at the cabstand. No cabs as yet. Nicole moved to the side of the footpath, drawing him with her. “Your father?” she said incredulously. “Why wouldn’t she tell her sister? And why was she troubled?”

  He touched her cheek gently. “Nikki, sometimes you are such an idiot.”

  She stared at him, shaking her head. “Please explain that.”

  His expression was drawn. “It’s too hard. Far too hard. The way she carried on, Dad said anyone would have thought I was going to molest you.”

  “But that’s horrible!” She was aghast. The anger left her.

  “I thought so, too. I wouldn’t hurt a hair on your head.”

  “I know you wouldn’t, Joel.” Her eyes connected with his. “What a burden for you to carry. It makes me so sad. Whatever could you have done to make my mother think like that?”

  “She didn’t want us to be happy.” His voice was hard and emphatic.

  “I refuse to believe that,” Nicole said, defending her mother. “We were children together. What does Siggy say?”

  “She’s always refused to discuss it. She thinks my affection for you is a crashing bore.”

  Nicole snorted. “It practically is. Uncle Alan, what does he say?”

  Joel took a deep audible breath. “He never stood a chance with Corrinne.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Ah, Nikki, this is too much.” He looked cornered. “I know it was different for you. You were a child. I was sixteen.”

  “You’re confusing me terribly, Joel.” Nicole felt truly distressed now. She gripped Joel’s arm and willed him to continue.

  “Hell, it was like Corrinne was a goddess,” he said at last. “Dad used to be so happy if she so much as even noticed him or spared him a word.”

  Her hand fell to her side. “She never would have noticed him except as Siggy’s husband, her brother-in-law.”

  There was a faint undertone of contempt in Joel’s voice. “So relationships define the feelings one is supposed to have?”

  Nicole was jolted by Joel’s words. “I’m saying there are taboos, surely. Societal cons
traints, if you like.”

  “Anyone can fantasize in private,” Joel answered. “And falling in love is beyond our control.”

  Nicole had to steel herself. “Are you saying your father was in love with my mother, his sister-in-law?”

  “I’m not saying that at all.” Joel turned his head as though checking on the arrival of the few town cabs. “I’m saying he permitted himself to fantasize about her. Dad has an internal life none of us knows much about. I can’t think he was ever in love with Mum. He married her for the money. His greatest aspiration in life had to be to marry a rich woman. He certainly didn’t want to support himself. There were a lot of complicated relationships on Eden, Nikki. You were too young to see them. Corrinne was the catalyst. Certain women are like that. Beautiful, fascinating. They make it difficult for men around them to stay out of their range. Poor old Mum! She had a rotten deal. Bloody plain with a sister that looked like a film star.”

  The insult to her aunt hit Nicole hard. “Siggy isn’t plain at all. She has far more to her. When she fixes herself up, she looks quite distinguished. The thing with Siggy is she doesn’t usually bother.”

  “Why would you with a sister like Corrinne?” Joel asked bitterly. “No one would have noticed Mum if she did work her butt off to look good.”

  “There is such a thing as intelligence,” Nicole pointed out severely. “Humor, understanding, loyalty.”

  “Sure, but all in all, women are valued for their desirability. How can you doubt it? Do you think McClelland would have invited you over if you didn’t fit into that category? Beautiful and fascinating. As far as I can see it’s a view women hold of themselves, anyway. Once they lose their looks, they know they’re out of the race.”

  Nicole, the feminist, was outraged. “Maybe they should stop being motivated by what men want.”

  He laughed into her face. “Sex is at the core of everything, Nikki. Do you think your mother’s life would have ended as it did if she hadn’t been such a danger to the men around her?”

  “How did it end?” Nicole asked sharply. “That’s what I want to know.”

  Joel shrugged. “One or other of them lost control. A fight resulting in an accident? Murder-suicide? Who knows? I mean, it was a long time ago.”

  “I can’t believe you said that. We’re talking about my mother.”

  Joel kept looking up the street. “She didn’t like me.”

  To hear such a charge against her mother was devastating. “I never saw a single instance of her being unkind to you. The reverse was true.”

  “She turned on me.” Joel’s face contorted for a moment before he composed himself.

  “When?”

  “Don’t push it, Nikki. Please,” he warned. “You must be very careful what you’re about. You’ve brooded about this for years. You always were an intense creature. No one has ever found concrete evidence of foul play. The best thing you could possibly do is forget it and get on with your life.”

  “And let a possible murderer go free?” She stared at Joel, shocked and appalled.

  “If such a person was around, what’s to stop them coming after you? I couldn’t bear to think of you as a victim. Forget it, Nikki, I’m begging you.”

  She simply had to ask him, “Did you ever speak to Dr. Rosendahl about the burdens that were put on you?”

  His eyes flashed as if someone had turned on a light. “Why mention him? Hell, I have nothing but contempt for him and all he represents. Headshrinkers. Charlatans. They can’t help themselves, let alone anyone else.”

  Urgent questions rose to her throat, but she was uncertain how to handle Joel when he was feeling this way. “He helped me greatly,” she said. “Why not you?”

  Given an opening, again no response. “Why didn’t anyone advise me of his death?” she asked next. “Didn’t anyone think I’d be interested?”

  “Don’t look at me,” he said moodily, staring at some point over her head. “I never spent any time thinking about him. I never liked the man. Always stroking his beard. I never liked those eyes of his, either. Black as night. They seemed to push you to the limit, probing into your soul. I didn’t trust him.”

  She gave him a look of mixed anxiety and inquiry. “What did you have to hide? Tell me. It was nothing, isn’t that true?”

  “Of course it’s true.” His hand came out, closed around hers. “All I want is for you to be happy, Nikki.”

  For the life of her Nicole couldn’t draw her hand away, nor could she trust herself to question him further. Joel had deliberately lied to her, but he looked so loving it deeply distressed her. Cabs started arriving.

  “Let’s go,” he said, animated now as if a threat had been averted. “I can’t wait to get home.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  NICOLE SAT in the tiny parlor of her old nanny’s rented cottage, dabbing at her damp eyes and looking around her. Snapshots galore! Everywhere she looked there were photographs of herself, lined up along the mantel, on top of a glass-fronted cabinet, on the coffee table in front of her, on open display on the shelves of a plain pine bookcase, which held quite a collection of romance paperbacks. Dot had always been addicted to romance novels, treating them as proof life had happy endings.

  So…herself at all stages and all taken outdoors—sitting on ponies, on fences, in trees, on swings, holding a kitten up to her face, smiling widely in the magnificent pool her grandfather had built in the garden after she told him that she and Joel wanted one. All those curls! She was a pretty child. Strangely, not one snap included Joel, which she thought very odd. They were always together like brother and sister. Dot had been nanny to both of them. Clearly she had been the favorite. Poor Joel! He hadn’t exactly had the best of times, which must have reinforced his idea of being different.

  One small, surprisingly upbeat painting, hers—she had given it to Dot as a keepsake—highlighted the room’s general bleakness, if anything could be said to be bleak in Queensland’s perpetual golden sunshine and brilliant blue skies. But the room spoke of a lack of money and a general hopelessness, as though brightening things up wasn’t just financially impossible but simply not worth the effort.

  Dot had greeted her with tears of joy streaming down her face. Nicole found herself doing the same, crying her head off. Now Dot had hurried off to her little kitchen to make tea.

  Nicole had flown in that morning with Drake, who had a cattlemen’s meeting in the state capital. The premier and the minister for Primary Industries would be in attendance. Politics for Drake. For her the cover story of buying an appropriate outfit for Shelley and Brock’s wedding. She had told no one, not even Drake, she had come with the express purpose of looking up Dot. She wanted to find out exactly why Dot had left Eden. Had she truly gone of her own accord, or had she been pushed? And if so, why? Siggy was gruff, but not unfeeling. Her grandmother Louise was the kindest of women. She wanted a reason from Dot she could accept.

  While she waited, Nicole sat on the edge of a worn armchair, lost in the past. The collection of old photographs had stirred up so many memories. She could see herself as a little girl being very naughty and high-handed, giving Dot a difficult time; Dot not knowing where she was or what mischief she was getting up to, other times sweet and loving, her arms flung around Dot’s neck. She realized now she must have been very spoiled. Her grandfather’s little princess, indulged in every way. In stark contrast, much of Dot’s life had been unutterably sad. Dot had scars all over her body, evidence of her husband’s brutality. Early on, Nicole had felt it absolutely imperative the family look after Dot. Not only to repay the debts of her childhood, but because she, herself, had in many ways lived a life of material privilege. She knew Dot would literally have given her life for her. It almost happened once at a station waterhole when Dot, fearing her young charge was in difficulties—she was only fooling around, for she could swim like a fish—waded in after her, moving farther and farther out into deep water, arm outstretched with the hope of pulling her in. Dot, unbelieva
bly, given she was Outback born and bred, had never learned to swim.

  “Here we are now!” Audibly puffing, either from excitement or physical exertion, Dot came back into the room bearing a tray set with a white paper doily and tea things.

  “I’ll take that, Dot.” Nicole stood up immediately. Before Dot could protest, she took the tray from her and put it down on the coffee table in front of the single sofa, upholstered in a dismal brown velvet. “Scones, how lovely!” She looked up to smile.

  “I made them specially for you.” Dot’s thin cheeks pinked. Nicole had rung from the airport to ask if it would be okay if she paid a visit.

  “I was just looking at all the old photographs, Dot. They bring back so many memories.”

  “All I had of you,” Dot said poignantly. She lowered herself stiffly onto the sofa, which gave alarmingly. She was wearing a lot of lavender scent that wafted with her movements. Nicole was reminded how in the old days Dot had always packed her dresser drawers with sachets of their beautiful boronia. “Old bones,” Dot said in wry explanation of the creaks.

  “You’ve had your hair cut?” As long as Nicole could remember, Dot had always worn her hair in a rather straggly bun. Now it was short and mostly gray. It looked as though it hadn’t had a good conditioning in some time. Nicole made a mental note to do something about that. She was dismayed by how much older Dot looked, though she said nothing. She wouldn’t have offended Dot for the world. A little bent, probably from osteoporosis, Dot was all sharp jutting angles, though her short wiry frame had never carried much weight.

  “A month or two ago,” Dot said in response to Nicole’s question, touching a hand to her head. “I don’t like it, but I couldn’t stand long hair in the humid heat. Brisbane is so humid, very tropical. It’s dry back home.” Nostalgia was easy to detect in her tone. That gave Nicole encouragement.

  “Why did you leave, Dot?” she asked. “I was shocked when Siggy told me you’d gone. I thought you never wanted to leave Eden.”

  “Still take milk in your tea, love?” Dot asked, apparently not eager to answer questions.

  “Milk, no sugar,” Nicole told her absently, wanting to get back to the purpose of her visit.