She briefly paraphrases the article.
Luca’s grimace communicates his horror and disbelief. “That’s terrible.”
“So terrible. Mum wants to sue the magazine. But Nan thinks it will make the rumours persist.”
Luca keeps his gaze straight ahead. “So there’s definitely no truth to the article?”
“It can’t possibly be true. That would mean Aunt June is my grandmother. How the hell would anyone be able to keep that charade up for fifty years?”
Luca shrugs, meets her eyes again. A small curl of one side of his lips. “Truth is sometimes difficult to believe.”
She gapes at him. “You can’t possibly think it’s the truth.”
He shakes his head. “I’m sure it’s just some con man who heard your mother was living back in Tasmania and decided to make a quick dollar.”
“Exactly right.”
Luca takes them over the Red Bridge—a historic remnant, much like the surrounding town, made of pale red bricks and has three big arches beneath that are reflected in the watery mirror of the Elizabeth River.
“Built 1838 by penal labour,” Luca says.
“Built before Viewtree house?”
“Yep. It’s the oldest surviving brick arch bridge in Australia. There were over one million handmade bricks used. You’d be amazed the tourists that drive here to see it.”
Pia gawks at the bridge, twisting in her seat to keep looking at it as they drive past. “I’m so glad.”
“People love history. They’ll love Viewtree House once it’s open.”
She smiles wide. “Fingers crossed that it brings lots of customers.”
“I hope so too.”
They soon arrive at a two-story brick building—pedantically presented and restored. The façade is pale stacked sandstone while the sides are engraved stucco in a shade of white. Reminiscent of the colonial era. “This town is unbelievably gorgeous. Is this your handy work?”
He grins as he gazes up at the building. “Yep. Loved every minute of it.” He parks and unbuckles his seatbelt. “I thought you would have spent some time here over the years to visit Mary and June?”
“Sadly, no. I did come here a few times for Christmas, but it was always a quick in-and-out visit. Between Mum and Dad’s schedules, that’s all they could manage. Besides, I think Mum didn’t like coming back here much.”
“Why’s that?”
“I did ask her why once, and she said that thinking about her childhood always made her sad. I guess this place was her childhood. That’s why I was so surprised when she decided to move back here.”
“Maybe what’s happening now in her life is even worse than her past.”
A deep sadness sinks into Pia’s chest. Guilt for what she said to Mum earlier amplifies the sensation. “I think you may be right. It must be excruciating for my parents to divorce. Especially when every last detail is splashed over the news.”
“That must be hard for you too?” He looks at her then and such sympathy burns in his eyes it swells her own emotions.
“Very hard,” she whispers. “Can you imagine what it’s like for your own mother to have a sex tape?”
He closes his eyes for the smallest of moments and a smile flickers across his lips. “Are you serious?”
When he glances at her again, she nods.
“No, I can’t imagine that. Nor do I want to.” His smile grows until he laughs.
Pia playfully punches his arm. “It’s not a laughing matter.”
He shakes his head but laughs again. “I know it’s not. I’m sorry. But, I’ve never even imagined someone would tell me something like that.”
A gentle smile plays across Pia’s mouth. She is glad for his ability to cast a light-hearted spin on this moment. “It’s not every day you get that privilege.” He gazes at her, opens his mouth to speak, but she cuts him off. “Don’t you dare ask if I’ve watched it—”
“I was not going to ask that—”
“Because I most certainly haven’t.”
“I would hope not.”
She looks at her hands as they rest in her lap. “My ex watched it. I found that so …”
“Weird. And completely disrespectful.”
“Exactly. He couldn’t understand what he’d even done wrong. But he was that way about a lot of things.”
“Is that why you broke up?” Luca asks.
She shakes her head and manages a tight smile. “One of the reasons. But, let’s not talk about my ex. He’s not worth the airtime.”
“Just one more question. Your mother moved here because of her divorce. Grace because her husband died. Why did you come here, Pia?”
His question takes her aback for a moment—mostly because she hadn’t realised he knew the finer details. But she is starting to see Luca is quite perceptive.
“Honestly, breaking up with Ben was my excuse, but not my reason. I think, deep down, I wanted to come home to Australia. Being overseas while the rest of my family is here got very lonely in the end. Nan gave me a great opportunity.”
His lips lift at the corners. “That’s good to know. How about we head inside.”
Pia looks towards the heritage shop—the epitome of antique. “Let’s do that.”
For the next hour, Pia trawls through every piece within the shop’s walls—from old vases to Victorian chaise lounges to silky oak antique food trolleys. Luca has bundles of knowledge about all things historic.
“Why the fascination with colonial history?” she asks as he crouches to inspect the quality of a cedar chest of drawers.
He shrugs as he peers up at her. “I’m not sure exactly. I’ve always been drawn to it.”
“What does your house look like?”
“It’s one of the hundred historic homes in Campbell Town.”
“Restored it yourself, obviously?”
He nods. “Took me a few years. But it’s mostly finished now.” He stands and dusts off his hands. “Maybe I can show you one day?”
She is hoping her cheeks are not as red as they are hot. “I’d like that.” She peers around at all the wonderful pieces that would be fantastic for the individual guest rooms within the manor. For her own apartment, though, these prices are much too expensive. She is already considering finding a job to see her through until the bed and breakfast opens for business.
Living and working overseas in such a costly city, she didn’t earn enough after living expenses to save too much money. Matters of upcoming medical and baby expenses are items she didn’t plan for in her original budget.
“I’m going to bring Mum back here to show her the pieces I think could be usable in the manor. But as for my apartment, I’ll to need to look somewhere cheaper.”
He smiles with understanding. “Sometimes there’s the odd piece that’s a bargain, but not too many of those are here at the moment.”
“I can keep an eye out,” she says, then with hands on her hips, “but don’t you go bringing any other clients back here to steal them out from under my nose.”
He chuckles. “You’re the only clients on my list until September next year.”
“Good. So what then?” she asks as they stride out of the store and head back to the car.
“Then there’s another job here in town. It’s not often I get so many months without having to travel.”
“So a lot of your work is in other parts of Tasmania?”
“About seventy per cent. Sometimes I win jobs in Melbourne or South Australia. I’ve even been as far as Queensland to work on a heritage-listed boarding school.”
She smiles wide. “Diverse enough to keep it interesting.”
“Exactly. So how do you feel about grabbing a bite to eat?”
“I like the sound of that.”
“The café or takeaway fish and chips?”
“I think the café would be nice. I’m craving a vanilla milkshake,” she says.
“Café it is.”
* * *
Damien looks up f
rom the counter as Pia and Luca stride through the front doors of the café. Inside is bustling—undeniable that the warmer months are when most tourists visit.
“Look who we have here,” Damien says to Luca. “Got the afternoon off? A bit slack, don’t you think?”
Luca laughs. “Mate, I can’t work every second of the day. Not all of us have your stamina.”
“Ha! Very true. So what have you two been up to this afternoon?”
“We checked out the antique shop,” Pia says.
“Find anything?”
“Yeah, a few things.”
“Spent enough time to build up a decent hunger,” Luca says.
Damien’s eyes brighten. “Now that’s what I like to hear. Find a seat, and I’ll come to take your orders soon.”
They find a table out the back. The low chatter of conversation is a hum in the air. Clinks and clanks sound as cutlery scrapes along plates. Around them wafts the sweet scent of baked goods combined with an overtone of hamburger, bacon and onions frying.
Pia eyes the other guests—none of them she knows, though Luca shares a few waves with some. She hates that Nan has made her feel guilty for even interacting with Luca let alone having lunch with him.
But, if she were to be truly honest, Nan isn’t the sole reason for her guilt—it’s because she is giving Luca the wrong idea that there may be the possibility of a future romance. He’ll be disappointed and perhaps even embarrassed when he finally learns the truth that she is pregnant.
“Everything okay?” Luca asks, elbows on the table top, fingers steepled under his chin.
“Um … yeah. Everything is fine.”
“You were deep in thought”
She waves away his comment. “Typical of me. I’m sorry.”
“I thought you may have been worried about your mum still.”
She shakes her head. “No. Nothing important.”
“So how hungry are you? I'm thinking of a hamburger with chips and one of those milkshakes you were talking about.”
Oh, to be a fit man and to be able to eat whatever he likes. Pia read that during her pregnancy, her body will be doing all it can to gain weight, so she has to be careful not to overdo it. She rubs her hand over her stomach. “I might have a salad sandwich and a milkshake.
“Sounds good.” He closes the menu and leans closer. “So where did you go to school?”
“A girls’ grammar school in Sydney. Though, I did do a stint of schooling via correspondence when Mum had two movies in a row in the UK.”
“So you’ve travelled a bit?”
“Quite a lot. If we weren’t travelling for Mum’s work, I often volunteered during the Christmas holidays with Dad. Then, there were the many family holidays.”
“Incredible. I’ve not even been outside of Australia yet.”
Her eyes widen in shock. “Wow. Really? I can’t even imagine that.”
“Travelling is definitely on my bucket list, though. I’ve booked a skiing trip to Japan next December.”
She smiles. “You’ll love Japan. Though, I’ve not been in winter. I’ve always wanted to.” Her smile fades when she realises that type of frivolous travel will have to take a backseat for a while now.
Damien comes over and takes their orders, then leaves them to themselves again.
“So tell me about the volunteering?” he asks.
“Dad’s a surgeon, so he volunteers for Doctors Without Borders. That’s what he’s doing at the moment. I usually help with administration, cleaning, and basic first-aid assistance. He says it’s a good way to keep us grounded and thankful for the life we have.”
“Do you think it has?”
She nods. “Some of the things I’ve seen are so powerful, they’ve shaped my entire way of thinking. Especially with sick kids and babies; it’s heartbreaking watching them die because we didn’t have the funding or we volunteered our efforts in the region too late.”
He winces. “That would be tough. Children are definitely my weakness. It must take a lot of courage.”
“It absolutely does. Most times, I’m sick with anxiety about what we’ll encounter. But as Dad says, ‘we can’t help everyone, but we can help someone and that’s more than what would happen if we didn’t go’. I haven’t been for a few years, though. I do feel guilty about that.”
“More chances will arise.”
“Very true. So, do your parents still live in town?”
“Yeah. My Dad is the PGA professional at the local golf course. That’s why we moved back here when I was twelve.”
She tilts her head to the side and smiles. “Wow. Do you play?”
“Every now and then. I was never as interested as Dad wanted me to be, but it is a great way to blow off some steam after a long week.”
“I actually had golf lessons when I was younger,” she admits.
“I would never have guessed that.”
“I enjoy golf, but I haven’t played since I was—gee, nineteen. Dad is a mad keen golfer, so I got to play on some fantastic courses.”
“You and your dad get on, obviously?”
She shrugs. “Yeah, we do. Mum’s life was always so hectic—a lot of the time, it was me and Dad hanging out. He actually hoped I’d be a doctor too.”
“Not interested?”
She shakes her head. “Not at all. I’m sure it’s rewarding, but I couldn’t handle the responsibility of having someone else’s life in my hands.” She giggles. “It’s bad enough I have to make decisions for myself.”
Luca tips his head back and laughs. “You really underestimate yourself.”
“Maybe, maybe not,” she says with humour.
“What about acting?”
No hesitation in her emphatic head shake. “Mum steered me very strongly away from acting. But I couldn’t think of anything worse. Having to kiss all those older men.”
Luca roars with laughter then. “I’ve never thought of it that way.”
“I remember being on set with Mum for The Love Triangle. She had to play the mistress of a wealthy businessman. And you know when you’re younger and everyone who is over forty seems ghastly old?”
He nods.
“Well, Mum had to kiss this actor—Mel Peters. He would have been fifteen years older than her. Smelled like coffee and cigarettes. I was grossed out by it. I remember feeling so sorry for her.” She giggles. “It’s funny how kids think. But that was enough to turn me off for life.”
“It must also be strange seeing your mum kissing a man other than your dad?”
She shrugs. “Not really. I’d seen so many movies of hers, and she always had to kiss someone, so I think I knew from an early age that she was only pretending. What about your mother? What does she do?”
“She’s an accountant. Owns a small practice in town here.”
“So you inherited smarts and sporting prowess.”
He chuckles. “Is that a compliment?”
Heat spreads across her cheeks as she angles her head down and gazes at him from under her lashes. “Perhaps.”
Damien interrupts them with their lunch. She sits upright, so he can place her plate and milkshake in front of her. She hadn’t realised how close she had drifted to Luca as they were talking. But that’s how it is with him—a tangible desire to be within his space.
She recalls the sensation of his warm lips as they pressed against hers those few days ago. Everything moves inside her, squeezing and tingling, begging her to experience that closeness again. Yet her mind is saying not to venture any farther. It will get too messy, too complicated.
When Damien leaves, she eyes Luca’s big delicious looking hamburger and crispy hot chips compared to her dismal salad sandwich.
She frowns.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“I wish I ordered yours now.”
He moves the plate around, which only wafts the delicious aromas more into the air. “It does look pretty damn good.”
She frowns even deeper, a tense sensation squ
eezing in her chest and up her throat. “I really don’t want mine.”
He furrows his brow. “Seriously? Like not at all?”
She shakes her head. “Not at all.”
“I’ll swap if you like. I think yours looks great too.”
She blinks. “You would swap with me?”
“Yeah,” he says with a shrug. “I’m happy with either meal.”
“I’ll pay for both,” she says quickly.
“You’ll pay for neither,” he says very matter of fact, then pushes his hamburger towards her while picking up her plate. He smiles. “I think I may actually feel like this more than my own.”
She grins as she picks a chip up and takes a bite. “You’re only saying that to make me feel better for stealing your food.”
“Maybe a little.”
“At least share the chips with me,” she says.
He picks one from her plate and throws the whole chip in his mouth. “I won’t say no.”
Pia spreads her hands wide over the big hamburger that has bacon, cheese, lettuce and tomato teasing her from the side of the bun. She lifts it to her mouth and takes a big bite. “Oh my god, this is so good,” she says after swallowing the mouthful.
“I’d hate to bring you out for lunch and you not enjoy yourself.”
She smiles at him, a fizzy feeling of appreciation flowering in her heart. “Thank you.”
He winks and says, “My pleasure,” before taking a bite of his sandwich.
With a nod towards his plate, she asks, “How is it?” She holds her breath as she awaits his answer.
“Exactly what I wanted.”
She giggles, not buying his story, but grateful nonetheless. “Sure it is.”
For the next hour, they sit and chat about their childhoods, professions, and desires. By the time they climb back into his car, Pia doesn’t want the afternoon to end.
As they ascend the driveway of Viewtree House, deep disappointment finds a home in her bones. She doesn’t mean to sigh when he parks off to the side of the house.
He turns in his seat to look at her. “Thank you for a great day.”
“My pleasure.” She smiles, but it is subdued and sombre. Usually, she is capable of controlling her emotions, but it’s like everything is sitting just below the surface, bubbling up when the timing is all wrong.
The Secrets Mothers Keep Page 18
