by Lyn Denison
“Congratulations,” Rosemary said gently. “It took me so many years to get to that point.” She paused. “What did Laura say?”
“She was worried, but she accepted it.” Asha thought about her suspicions about her stepmother and Rosemary. “She said she’d been in love with someone years ago, someone unacceptable, when she worked here with Vivienne.”
Rosemary stilled and her fingers fluttered nervously to smooth the collar of her shirt. “When she worked here? She told you that?”
“She was upset when she found out I knew Vivienne. I thought when she said she’d loved someone, someone unacceptable, that she meant she was involved with a married man. But I was way off base.” Asha swallowed and forged on. “It was you, wasn’t it?” she asked softly.
“Laura mentioned me?” Rosemary asked.
“No. I worked it out. It was the way you said her name.”
Rosemary was silent until she regained her composure. “We met when she came to work with Mother. I fell in love with her at first sight.” She smiled wryly. “It really was the first time I saw her. She said she felt the same. My whole life came together. But we were both absolutely terrified someone would find out. The tragedy of it was, that someone was my brother, Nick.”
“Where is he now? As you said, your mother rarely mentions him.”
“Somewhere around the world. Nick broke my parents’ hearts. He was always selfish, spiteful, even though my parents didn’t treat him any differently from Richard and I. But he could be so charming when he wanted to be.” She shook her head. “He caught us making love. We’d thought we had the house to ourselves. We were terrified, but he said he understood, that he’d keep our secret. And he did for some time.
“Having Nick know about us put a strain on our relationship. We both felt the pressure about being different, about being labeled as lesbians. We quarreled. I don’t even remember what it was about, but we decided to make the break, which we did, and we were both so miserable.
“I made plans to go overseas. I begged Laura to come with me. We ended up quarrelling again. Then Nick—” Rosemary rubbed a hand over her face. “I let her down again. I knew Nick could be cruel, but I never believed he could rape someone. When Laura told me I—” She grimaced. “Like everyone else, I thought she’d slept with him, and I left her to deal with the rape on her own.” She looked across at Asha. “Not my finest hour. I selfishly couldn’t see past what I thought was her betrayal of our love. So I went overseas for about four years as planned, and then transferred back to Melbourne.”
“Thank you for confiding in me, and I’m sorry,” Asha added inadequately. “You didn’t know she was pregnant, I take it?”
“No.” Rosemary shook her head. “Not then. Not for years. Mother let it slip eventually, and I felt impossibly worse. Mother told me Laura put her child up for adoption.”
Asha nodded. So Rosemary hadn’t seen the resemblance between Laura and Timothy either. Like Asha, she wouldn’t have been looking for it.
Rosemary sighed and glanced across at Asha. “Does she still hate me?” she said softly, and the sadness on her face, the regret in her voice, pierced Asha.
“I really don’t know,” she said honestly. “I’m sorry.”
Rosemary nodded. “I tried to run from what I was, but eventually I admitted to myself I was a lesbian. I had a few relationships, but your stepmother …” She swallowed. “Laura always stayed with me. Then last year something changed my entire outlook on my life. I had a health scare and the doctor talked cancer. While I waited for the results, I reevaluated my life, my mistakes. I was working far too hard, just like my colleagues, and I’d seen some of them succumb to heart attacks and other stress-related problems. Apart from my family, I had no one who cared if I lived or died. I decided it was a very sad obituary.”
“Were you all right? I mean, with the cancer?” Asha asked and Rosemary nodded.
“I was lucky. But I decided I wanted to find your stepmother and at least apologize to her. I hired a private detective to make some discreet inquiries.”
Asha murmured in surprise. “You said you didn’t know my stepmother was married to my father.”
Rosemary shook her head. “Not before the private detective told me. When I found out, I could only wonder, considering how well known your father is, how I’d never even seen a photograph of them together. And I wondered what I would have done if I had.”
Asha was speechless.
“I was trying to decide how I was going to approach Laura, when Mother mentioned Richard’s sixtieth birthday and said she was wondering what she could possibly get him that was special. We talked about his interests, and somehow family history was mentioned. I knew you were a genealogist, and I was toying with the idea of hiring you to do some research when Mother brought home the book you did for her friend Betty. I couldn’t believe my luck. I suggested Mother ask you to do a similar book for Richard.”
Asha tried to take it all in. “Knowing who I was?”
Rosemary nodded. “Oh, yes. Because of who you were. But I didn’t realize there were more skeletons in the family closet besides my own,” she said derisively.
“What will you do? About my stepmother, I mean,” Asha asked carefully.
“I don’t know,” Rosemary replied candidly. “I want to see her, but I also don’t want to rake up old memories for her. When I started out looking for Laura, I didn’t realize the ramifications of it all. My intentions, I see now, were purely selfish. Again,” she added derisively. “Now I see how much it’s affected everyone. I didn’t think about how Laura’s family—how you—would feel. Or my mother. I feel like I’ve played with fate and disrupted the scheme of things.”
“It wasn’t all bad,” Asha said, thinking about herself and Peri, how much she loved her and how much she wanted to make a life with her. A lump of tears welled in her throat, and she swallowed. “The family should have known about Georgie and Richard and their amazing lives.”
“Yet someone must have wanted it kept secret,” Rosemary said. “Or why would they have hidden the journals away?”
“Have you considered it might have simply been to keep them safe? If they’d wanted the truth to remain hidden, they would have destroyed them, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps you’re right. And that would have been terrible.”
Asha nodded. “We knew Richard gave the music box to his wife. She could have given it to Georgie and Margaret, or to her granddaughter Susannah. Any of the family could have had access to it. But I like to think Georgie or Margaret put the journals in the box for safekeeping, so the story of their love could live on.”
Rosemary smiled. “So you’re a romantic, hmmm?”
“I suppose I am.” She thought of Peri. “I guess I live in hope.”
“Don’t we all?” Rosemary stood up. “I should get back to the hospital.”
“Should I … ? Is Vivienne not well because of what I told her about Georgie?”
“Of course not,” Rosemary said quickly.
“How do you think she really feels about it?”
“Not much fazes her these days.” Rosemary shrugged. “What with Nick and a lesbian daughter, she’s about seen it all, don’t you think?”
“She loves you, Rosemary.”
“I know. I love her, too. I’d better go.”
“Rosemary?”
The other woman paused in the doorway.
“Do you want me to speak to Mum? About you, I mean.”
Rosemary shook her head. “Thanks, but no. I think I need to make my own peace with Laura. I’ll phone her first, once we get Mother home and I know she’s all right.”
With that, she left Asha to her own thoughts.
Asha made herself concentrate on finishing scanning the photos. If she let herself think about Peri, she felt sick at heart. What if Peri … ? She pulled herself up, admonishing herself. She needed to wait until she spoke to Peri.
Realizing she was hungry and that she hadn�
�t had breakfast, she made herself tea and toast. She kept working, the French doors open now so she’d hear the sound of the car on the gravel drive below. When she did hear it, she rushed outside to look down as Rosemary and Peri helped Vivienne from the car. Vivienne looked up and gave Asha a wave.
“Welcome home,” Asha said.
“Thank you, my dear. I’m such a nuisance causing all this fuss.”
Asha’s gaze went to Peri and her heart raced. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time, but mostly she wanted to race downstairs, slide her arms about her and feel Peri’s arms around her.
“We’ll see you inside,” Vivienne said as she started up the steps.
By the time Asha reached the top of the staircase, Vivienne was moving upward on her chairlift, and Rosemary and Peri were walking up with her. Asha took Vivienne’s arm as she stood up, and she gave Asha a hug.
“I’m so sorry I frightened all of you,” she said. “And it was such a silly mistake.” She kept hold of Asha’s hand. “Come with me, dear. I promised the doctor I’d rest and I will, but I also need to talk to you.”
“Mother, don’t you think it would be better if you talked to Asha later?”
“Now, don’t fuss, Rosemary. There’s a dear. Why don’t you fetch me a cup of tea? I’d love a decent cuppa. It was very good of the nurses to bring me some in the hospital, but it wasn’t very nice tea.”
Rosemary sighed. “All right. A cup of tea coming up.”
“I’ll help Asha get you settled,” said Peri, and Asha felt she was studiously avoiding meeting Asha’s eyes.
When Peri left them to make a call to her office, Vivienne patted the side of the bed and Asha sat down. Vivienne took her hand again. “I admit I gave myself a fright with this, Asha, and it made me realize there are things I should tell you.”
“What sort of things? Can’t they wait, Vivienne? I’m getting along very well with the book. I have plenty to keep me occupied while you recuperate,” Asha said.
“Not about the book.” Vivienne paused. “I need to, what is it young people say? Come clean? Yes, that’s it. Come clean. You see, Asha, I’ve been a bit of a fraud.”
“In what way?” Asha asked, puzzled.
“I’ve known for some time who you were, that Laura West is your stepmother.”
“You knew?” Asha was taken aback. “Then you must have recognized my stepmother when I showed you her photograph.”
“Yes. I recognized Laura immediately.” She made an agitated movement with her hand. “But that’s not all. You see, when Dickie and Sara—” She swallowed. “In that dreadful accident, poor Sara was killed outright, but Dickie lived for a week before he succumbed to his injuries. We had moments when he was conscious and we could talk. He told me something he’d kept from me all these years. At least, he thought he’d kept it from me, but I knew. He told me how Richard and Sara came to adopt Timothy, my grandson.”
“Vivienne, there’s no need to upset yourself worrying about all this,” Asha said.
“I need to make it right, Asha.”
“I already know,” Asha said and Vivienne looked at her in surprise.
“Laura told you?”
Asha shook her head. “I saw the photograph of Timothy. He’s so much like my sister, Michelle.”
Vivienne nodded. “I thought you might see the resemblance. When you showed me that photograph of your sister, I was absolutely stunned. You see, Dickie and Richard arranged for Richard and Sara to adopt Timothy without telling me. And I really don’t think Sara knew, either. Rosemary and Nicolas weren’t even aware Laura was pregnant. They’d both gone overseas. And at the time I didn’t question any details about Timothy’s adoption. He was a beautiful baby, and I was simply pleased that having him made Richard and Sara so happy.
“It was Dickie who went to see Laura, offered to have Richard and Sara adopt her child, and Laura agreed. I do remember the moment I began to suspect Timothy was Laura’s son. He turned and smiled at me one day. He was about sixteen I suppose. I was reminded so vividly of Laura, it took my breath away. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t bring myself to ask Dickie or Richard. I’ve kept silent all these years but—” She paused and wiped her eyes with her handkerchief. “Then Dickie told me about the adoption before he died. He also told me that Laura had married your father.”
“Vivienne, I don’t think you should be upsetting yourself like this. We can talk about it when you’re stronger.”
Vivienne shook her head. “Last Christmas Timothy asked me if I knew anything about his biological parents. He said he was going to find them because he wanted to ask his girlfriend, Kylie, to marry him. He thought he should know about them before he did. I’ve been worried about what I should do ever since. I so yearned to be able to talk to Dickie about it. Eventually I decided the right thing would be to talk to Laura, to ask her how she felt about Timothy knowing, but I couldn’t begin to see how I could do that. Then Rosemary suggested the family history book. I knew your connection to Laura, and it seemed a far more natural way of making contact with Laura and her family. Through you.”
Vivienne clutched Asha’s hand. “I’m so very sorry for deceiving you. Please, Asha, say you’ll forgive me for not being honest with you.”
Asha slid her arms around her thin shoulders. “Oh, Vivienne, there’s nothing to forgive. I’ve had the time of my life working with you, and I can tell you I think my stepmother really wants to meet Timothy, too.”
“Oh, Asha, I’m so glad.” Tears rolled down Vivienne’s cheeks.
“Mother! Asha! What’s wrong?” Rosemary set a tray with her mother’s tea on the dresser and hurried across to the bed.
Asha stood up and Vivienne took her daughter’s hand.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Vivienne said. “Not now.”
“I’ll leave you then, Vivienne, to have your tea,” Asha said, “and get some rest.”
“Thank you, my dear. I have a lot to tell Rosemary now.”
Rosemary raised her eyebrows. “More family secrets?”
Asha could only smile as she headed for the door.
“Oh, Asha.” Rosemary made her pause as she was leaving. “Peri’s waiting to talk to you. In Father’s study, I think.”
Asha nodded, then made her way along the hallway toward the other end of the house. She went into Dickie Chaseley’s study, but it was empty, and neither was Peri waiting for Asha in her room. With a sigh of regret, Asha returned to the study, slipped into her chair and gazed desultorily at her screen saver. It would seem Rosemary was wrong. Peri didn’t want to talk to Asha.
Chapter Thirteen
Asha slipped on her cotton gloves and tidied the desk, carefully returning the photographs to the drawer beside Georgie’s journals. So much had happened since she found them in the music box.
She lifted the first one, reread the last entries, smiling at Georgie’s expression of love for his—for her—Margaret. Setting it back in the drawer, she picked up the second journal, turning it over in her hands. She noticed the flyleaf at the back was coming adrift, and she made a mental note to get it professionally repaired.
After examining it she decided it was undamaged. The glue had simply given way. But there seemed to be something caught behind it. Asha checked it with her magnifying glass and used her soft tweezers to carefully prize the paper loose. She unfolded it with utmost care and saw that it was a letter, the ink faded and smeared in places. She began to read.
***
My Dearest Mother and Papa,
I take this opportunity in this rare moment of quiet to write this letter to you. I am huddled in the trenches and the cold night air begins to settle over us. We find it difficult to get warm and yet, in the daytime, we swelter in the heat. For weeks, we have been choked by dust and smoke, but yesterday it rained, a storm much like the one we experienced in Townsville when we went South by steamboat to meet Uncle Richard. With the rain we are now knee-deep in mud. We are all miserable but try to be cheerful.
Yesterday I lost my mate, Dave. I believe I told you of him in my last letter. He was a shearer from down South and had a wife and two little girls. I’ll write to his wife when I finish this letter, as she may find comfort in knowing what a great bloke we thought her husband was and that he died trying to save a mate. Each day brings acts of unbelievable heroism, and I feel honored to fight alongside these boys.
I got the parcel you sent this past week. The sweets were a treat. And thank you, Papa, for the book. I don’t get much time to read, but I carry it in my coat and the feel of it brings me closer to you both somehow.
I try not to be maudlin, but there are things I want to say to you in case I don’t make it home. I thank you both for the wonderful life you have given me. Mother, for your love. Papa, for being such a grand father to me. I want to say to you that I have always felt I was your true son. If I get the chance to see my own child, I hope I can be as good a father as you have been to me.
If my time is up in this truly awful land I know you will take care of Susannah and the baby for me. She is a dear, sweet girl and I miss her so. I miss you all.
Your Loving Son,
Robert Gaines
***
Asha set the letter on the desk. Young Robbie’s short life had been documented by Georgie in his journal, and Asha felt as though she had actually known him. Playing in the dirt at the mining camp. Reading stories with his stepfather. Tears coursed down Asha’s cheeks.
“Asha? What’s wrong?”
Asha looked up at a sound of the familiar husky voice, and then Peri was around the desk, had sunk to her knees and had wrapped Asha in her arms.
“Please don’t cry, Asha,” she begged, her own voice tight with tears. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Her lips found Asha’s and she kissed her tenderly, then deeply.
“I’m not … I wanted to … It was a letter I found, in the back of Georgie’s journal. It’s from your great-grandfather, Robbie Gaines.”
