Along Country Roads

by Mandy Magro

  ‘Believe me, with my track record, I’m guessing it won’t be a happy ending.’

  ‘Like you said, never say never.’ Greg looked sad and disappointed for her. ‘I have to say, though, I didn’t think Ryan would fall for Pippa’s wiles again. She’s only going to cause him more heartache in the long run—the woman has major commitment issues.’

  Matilda drained the last of the coffee from her cup. ‘Even though I barely know her, I have to agree with you there. Any woman that would cheat on a man as good as Ryan needs their head read.’

  ‘She certainly does,’ he said. ‘I warned him not to take the path he’s going down, but Ryan’s very headstrong, if you haven’t already noticed.’

  ‘Yeah, I noticed.’ She tipped her head to the side. ‘What path are you talking about?’

  ‘Trying to get back what he had with Pippa for the sake of the baby.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘I told him that would end up a disaster. But you know Ryan, he’s a man of morals and feels very strongly about taking on the responsibility of being a father.’

  ‘Yeah, I know, but that doesn’t mean he has to let her move back to Heartsong.’ Matilda sighed weightily. ‘I mean, for goodness sake, heaps of kids live without both their parents under the same roof and they turn out fine.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I told him. This is only a guess, but since losing his sister the way he did, and with what happened with Samara’s father because of it, Ryan’s hell-bent on being in the child’s life to somehow make up for his guilt.’

  Matilda’s brows furrowed. ‘Guilt for what?’

  ‘He hasn’t told you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh, my bad. I gathered with how close you pair had become he would have told you. It’s not like it’s a secret after being plastered all over the newspapers, but …’

  Matilda waited for the rest, but Greg was suddenly mute. She threw her hands up in the air. ‘Well, you can’t leave me hanging like that, Greg.’

  ‘I really don’t think it’s my place to tell you, Tilly.’

  ‘Right, well, can you at least tell me how his sister died?’

  He sighed. Slowly folding his hands on the table as if buying time, darkness filled his gaze. ‘Her husband killed her.’

  Matilda gasped. She covered her mouth and slowly shook her head. ‘Oh my God. I had no idea. I thought she must have passed away from cancer, or a car accident, or something like that. Poor darling Samara, no wonder she’s having such a hard time.’ She sat up straighter, feeling as though the world was starting to spin beneath her. These were people she had grown to love and the news had rocked her to the very core. ‘How did he kill her—and please tell me it was an accident?’ She held her breath.

  ‘I’m afraid not. She was a victim of domestic violence.’ Greg’s face was solemn as he waited for a response that didn’t come, so he continued. ‘They were having a fight and the drunken bastard did what we all saw coming, but couldn’t do anything about because Regan didn’t want the police involved. He finally snapped and lashed out at her with a knife, stabbing her twenty-eight times.’

  ‘Oh, that’s horrible.’ Matilda felt as though she was about to throw up. She sucked in a breath to try to get rid of the overwhelming feeling of nausea.

  ‘It sure is. It gets even worse—Ryan was the one who found her.’

  ‘Oh bloody hell, poor Ryan. But I suppose, at the very least it wasn’t Samara. Was she home?’

  ‘No, she was at a friend’s house, thank God.’

  Matilda released the breath she’d been unconsciously holding onto. ‘I feel horrible for them all. It’s such a terrible tragedy.’

  ‘It sure was. It rocked the entire community and changed Ryan’s life forever. He used to be so carefree and optimistic about the future, and now, well, he’s not himself anymore. Hell, it took him a year to step back into the pub, a place he used to come to every weekend for a feed and a couple of beers, because he thought everyone was judging him.’

  ‘Why would he think that?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s something you’ll have to talk to him about, Tilly.’

  Tears welled in Matilda’s eyes and she hurriedly blinked them away. Domestic violence—she’d barely avoided being a victim of it herself. She wanted to scream, punch something, anything but sit here and listen to such heartbreaking news. Then, if that wasn’t enough to take in, it dawned on her why Ryan felt so protective of her. It was because he saw her to be just like his sister—a poor woman suffering at the hands of a violent partner. Everything now made perfect sense. Here she had been, believing a man as good and handsome as Ryan Hunter could fall for her, that he was her knight in shining armour, here to rescue her from her rotten life and love the hurt right out of her. She felt like a complete dupe for believing he could actually harbour deep feelings for her. Even if he thought he did, he was clearly confusing it with his need to erase his guilt by taking care of her. Fool her.

  As much as she felt shock and heartache for his sister’s horrific death and for the family’s heart-wrenching loss, Matilda couldn’t help but feel cheated and lied to by Ryan. She wasn’t so fragile that he couldn’t have told her the truth. She was no pity case either. She’d given him so many chances to open up when she’d asked him why he was being nice to her. Not once had he chosen to tell the truth.

  Finally putting these thoughts aside she noticed Greg was staring at her. ‘Sorry, Greg, I don’t know what to say. This has floored me.’

  He nodded as his mobile phone sung out from his shirt pocket. He quickly tugged it out. ‘It’s from the bar downstairs so I better grab it.’

  ‘No worries.’

  With her mind in an absolute spin Matilda stared out the window while Greg stood up and chatted softly on the phone. Someone caught her attention—a man walking through the park opposite the pub. He was so far away she couldn’t make out his features but there was something familiar about him. He bent down to pick something up from the ground, and when he straightened his hand went to his lower back. Then it hit her like a freight train—the man’s posture reminded her of Troy. It couldn’t be? She shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut, and when she opened them the bloke had disappeared. She breathed a sigh of relief. The mind did weird things when stressed; she really needed to calm the hell down.

  Her thoughts went back to Ryan. She had known it all along but hadn’t wanted to believe it—there was a purpose behind Ryan being so good to her. At least now she had closure, a reason to let go of the feelings she harboured for him. The poor bloke had been through hell and back, so she couldn’t be mad at him for using her as a means to get over his past. If anything, she felt sorry for him. The curiosity as to what had happened to Samara’s father was bothering her, so as soon as she finished her shift tonight she was going to head down to the local servo, where they had Internet hire, so she could Google it. There was no way she would risk Greg catching her doing that here. She was sure to find something about it on the net.

  Deciding not to dwell too much on it until she knew the full story, she tried to focus her attention back outside. Not much was happening, the main street was always quieter in the afternoons. Looking around her small kitchen, she stopped and smiled at the image of her mother’s twenty-something face in Matilda’s favourite photo of her, which she kept on the bench. Was that what had made Greg look as if he’d seen a ghost? Reaching out, she brushed it with her fingertips as Greg’s voice from behind her made her jump.

  ‘Tilly, there’s a problem at the bar with two of the old-timers fighting over a stool, so I have to run.’ He gently touched her back. ‘I’m here anytime you need to talk about anything, okay? I don’t ever want you to feel you’re alone.’

  Matilda smiled up at him. ‘Thank you, Greg, that means the world. At least I know I can trust you to be honest with me.’

  Greg nodded as he gave her a tight-lipped smile. ‘Righto, better run before they try and get into a fist fight—the old buggers can barely stand up without their wa
lking sticks.’

  Matilda couldn’t help but giggle at this as she watched him turn in his boots and disappear out her door.

  CHAPTER

  23

  After meditating for the last half hour of her lunch break Matilda felt much more centred as she walked down the steps and back towards the bar. Wandering past the office she considered popping her head in to thank Greg for the chat when she overheard heated voices. To her surprise one of them sounded like Ryan’s. She paused, weighing up whether listening into the conversation was wrong of her—if they caught her eavesdropping it would be highly embarrassing. But, worried Greg might be telling him about the private conversation they’d just had, she couldn’t help herself.

  Looking up and down the corridor to make sure nobody was about, she leant against the wall near the closed door.

  ‘I don’t think you have a right to be telling me what to do with Pippa, Greg.’

  ‘I’m not telling you what to do, I’m just offering you some advice, that’s all.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s all fair and good, but why should I listen to you when you won’t take my advice on-board?’

  ‘What advice might that be, Ryan?’

  ‘That you tell Tilly the truth about being her father.’

  With her legs buckling beneath her, Matilda tried to grab hold of the wall. The world spun around her, making her feel nauseous. Their voices now sounded a million miles away as her breath quickened. An overwhelming wave of emotion engulfed her, and it was as if she were fighting to keep her head above water. With her back against the wall she sunk to the floor, and then cradled her knees with her arms, her body trembling from the shock.

  Greg was her father? So he hadn’t run off to Western Australia like her mother had thought. It all made perfect sense. Getting the job so easily, his care for her, the way he flinched every time she mentioned her mum, or when she had said her father was dead to her, his willingness to go above and beyond the role of a boss, his shock of copper hair that matched her own. She sucked in a shaky breath. Not only had Ryan been lying to her all this time, about so many things, but Greg had too. Hurt stabbed at her heart like slivers of broken glass. Blind fury rose through her. How dare they keep such life-changing information from her. It was her right to know she was working for her goddamn father. With her past catching up to her, and blending with the turmoil of the present, Matilda realised she had finally reached her limit. No longer was she going to stand for men taking her for a ride.

  So, on shaky legs she stood, and without knocking, stormed into the office. The men stopped mid-sentence as they stared, wide-eyed, in her direction.

  Her stance was determined. ‘Who in the hell do you think you are, keeping this from me?’

  The men went to answer but she cut them off by holding up her hands. ‘Actually, save it. I don’t want to hear your excuses. It was wrong, very wrong, of both of you to do this. To be honest, I really don’t know if I want anything to do with either of you after today. I hate liars, and you’re both exactly that.’

  ‘Tilly, please …’ Ryan reached out and touched her arm but she flung his hand away. ‘Stay away from me, Ryan. You have not only lied to me about Greg, but you have also chosen not to tell me about your sister. You’re not going to bring her back by being my saviour. You know that, right?’

  Ryan nodded. ‘That’s not why I’m trying to help you, Til.’

  ‘Don’t call me that. My name is Tilly.’

  ‘I’m so sorry.’ He looked to the floor, clearly unable to hold her hate-filled gaze any longer.

  ‘You …’ She turned her attention to Greg. ‘After what you did to my mother when she told you she was pregnant with me, and now you go and pretend to be someone else. I opened my heart up to you upstairs and you sat there and said nothing.’

  Greg’s expression was full of heartache. ‘When your mother told me, I panicked, Tilly, that’s all. After I’d calmed down I was happy she was pregnant and was looking forward to becoming a father, but it was too late, she’d gone.’

  ‘Can you blame her?’

  ‘No, I can’t.’ He looked to her with pleading eyes, eyes that almost made her cave in, but she held her ground. ‘But what I can promise you is I have spent every single day of the rest of my life regretting that moment.’

  ‘Good, I hope you have. You deserve to. Stuff my shift this afternoon; someone else can do it. I need some time out, and don’t either of you try to follow me.’ With that, she took one last look at Ryan and stormed out the door, up the stairs and to her bedroom where she locked the door behind her, pulled the curtains so it was dark, and climbed beneath the comfort of her doona where she sobbed for all that she had lost, and what she was about to lose, when she ran from Moonstone Valley and never looked back. But first, she would have to find a way to get Huckleberry, because she wasn’t leaving without him.

  It was close to midnight when Matilda finally crawled out from the cosiness of her bed. After ignoring Greg pleading to let him in, not once, but twice, she must have drifted off to sleep. Now, she was wide awake and with her mind a little clearer, she was surprised she took comfort in the fact her father was a decent kind-hearted man. Although extremely mad at him, there was a huge part of her that already cared for the man he was. If she was being honest, there was also a huge part of her that wanted the chance to get to know him as her father. She felt bad for saying such harsh words to him and to Ryan in the heat of the moment, but sometimes the truth hurt.

  Walking to the window, she stared out, while trying to gather her thoughts. This time round, running wasn’t the answer to her problems. She didn’t want to be like her mother and spend the rest of her life wondering what could have been if she stayed. So, she would delay her departure for at least the next few days. Then, if she still felt deceived, she would spread her mum’s ashes a little earlier than she had planned to, go and get Huckleberry and make tracks to somewhere new—somewhere she was not known. At the very least, she owed it to herself to try to make sense of her chaotic life, or she knew damn well it would shadow her for the rest of her days.

  She padded over to the sink and poured a glass of water from the filter jug. Leaning against the bench as she drank, she ran her thoughts back over her dramatic day. Ryan’s face filled her mind, and her heart twinged with the image of his heartbroken eyes. She hated hurting him like that, but why had he kept it all from her? Surely there was more to it than him wanting to make up for his guilt over his sister’s death. Plagued by curiosity about Samara’s father, Matilda decided to go and find out. So, pulling on her sneakers then grabbing her bag, she quietly went downstairs, finally taking a breath when she knew she was out of the danger zone of waking Greg.

  Turning off the alarm system, she crossed the dimly lit dining room and walked through to the public bar that faced out onto the street. Taking a few moments to let her eyes adjust, she picked up two dirty glasses from a table and placed them quietly into the sink behind the bar—she couldn’t help herself. Looking back up she spotted a circle of condensation on one of the windows, as if someone had just been peering in at her. She stopped dead in her tracks and tried to see out and into the night, but couldn’t. There was no way she was going any closer to the window for fear of whoever it was reappearing and scaring the bejesus out of her.

  Were they still standing there, staring at her? A rush of adrenaline sent her heart into a canter and the hair on the back of her neck stood up. The eerie atmosphere made her imagination run wild, then she chastised herself for being so jumpy. It was probably some drunk looking for a top up. Grabbing her jacket from where she had left it behind the bar she pulled it on, while at the same time trying to shrug off the unpleasant feeling of being watched.

  A loud noise, as if someone had knocked one of the bins over outside, sent her heart into another frantic beat—the back laneway was usually deserted at this time of the night. She tried to calm her overactive imagination by putting it down to one of the homeless cats she had sneakily b
egun feeding out hunting around for sustenance. Even so, a shiver ran down her spine. It felt weird being in the pub all alone, without the friendly chatter, the chinking glasses and the jukebox playing.

  Stop being stupid, Tilly, you’re just stressed out and overtired.

  Warily wandering over to the side windows, away from where she had seen the condensation, Matilda glanced outside, weighing up what she should do. The main street was unnervingly quiet, but what did she expect when it was well on the way to being one in the morning in a little country town? It was starting to rain too, but as much as she wished she could climb back beneath the comfort of her doona she knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep until she found out the mystery surrounding Samara’s father.

  The rain seemed to be getting heavier. A flash of lightning lit up the street as if it were broad daylight, giving her a few seconds to look outside. To her relief, there was nobody out there. A crack of thunder made her start and her hands flew to her beating chest. Fleetingly, she considered using the computer in Greg’s office, but she didn’t know the password. So, she put the chain of work keys Greg had given her into her bag, hitched it over her shoulder, picked up an umbrella from beneath the bar and made her way towards the back door. Rain or not, she had to do this.

  Humming to herself she flicked the umbrella open and then stepped into the laneway that would lead her down to the main street. Curling her hand back around the doorway she switched the alarm system on again and gently pulled the door shut behind her. She had only taken a few steps when the sound of someone or something moving about in the shadows made her freeze. She should have heeded the warnings while still safely inside. Pulling her jacket in tighter she darted her eyes over every nook and cranny, silently cursing that it was so dark out here. A gush of wind blew down the lane, almost ripping the umbrella out of her hands. Her lips and hands trembled, more out of fear than cold. She took a few steps backwards, until she felt her back brush up against the wall of the pub.