When Rosie looked at his face again he’d opened his eyes. She jumped.
‘Were you checking me out me, Stevens?’ he asked sleepily, awake enough to grin though.
‘I was—’ Her iPad chimed and she leapt out of bed, the pain in her knee almost gone after keeping her weight off of it during the night.
Owen sat up, fully alert, the sheet falling that little bit further. ‘Is it likely to be Adam?’
She nodded. She saw on the iPad that she’d just missed a FaceTime call from him. Suddenly she was aware of her barely-there T-shirt and the man in her bed who wasn’t her boyfriend.
‘Rosie, nothing happened.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Would you see it that way if you were Adam?’
‘You’ve got a point.’ He grinned, his stubble darkened from the overnight growth. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and shuffled towards the doorway, calling over his shoulder, ‘Call him back, Stevens. We’ll pretend this never happened.’
Rosie looked at the closed bedroom door, FaceTime chiming again but unable to bring her out of her trance as she thought about how she’d fallen asleep with another man. When the iPad quietened she looked in the mirror. She touched a hand to the red marks on her neck that didn’t look anywhere near as angry as they had last night.
When the iPad chimed again, she answered the call, angling the device so her neck wasn’t in the picture. She couldn’t face telling Adam about what had happened, not yet. She’d cried all her tears last night and right now she didn’t want to relive her ordeal.
Instead, she smiled at Adam and listened about a presentation he was preparing, the dire food at a client dinner the previous night, and for once she couldn’t even summon the energy to worry about what his work life meant for her personal life. The only thought on her mind now was that last night she and Owen had crossed both a physical boundary and an emotional one too. When she first met him, she’d thought him arrogant, over-confident and selfish. She’d thought he looked after number one, never mind anybody else. But she didn’t think that any more. Not since she’d spent the night alongside him, sharing her innermost thoughts. She’d seen a softer side to him and so, after she’d finished talking to Adam and heard Owen ride away on his Ducati, she decided she needed to know more about the secret being kept from him.
Last night had been about her. Today, it was about him.
She thought about digging the box up and showing Owen what she’d found, but she didn’t want to hurt him, so she left the house in search of finding answers some other way.
As she walked along the lane and turned left towards the main street, the floral salute of sweet-smelling purple-blue blooms from the jacaranda trees and a sense of determination was enough to carry her past the spot where she’d been attacked last night and all the way to Finnegan’s café.
Bella was wiping down a table in the front window, an empty cup and saucer in her opposite hand, until she saw Rosie. ‘What on earth happened to you?’ She gestured towards the red mark on Rosie’s neck, and when Rosie stepped into the café, past the tables, Bella saw the plaster on her knee – Owen had cut a pretty generous square from the roll of Band-Aid.
‘I was mugged last night.’
‘Oh my God!’ Bella dumped the crockery down on the nearest table and pulled Rosie into a hug as she told her the whole sorry story of her journey home from the pub.
‘We should’ve walked you home, we shouldn’t have left.’
‘Stop it, Bella. I’ve walked that way plenty of times and I’ve always been fine.’
‘Why didn’t Owen walk you home?’
‘Carrie turned up and I didn’t want to intrude.’
‘When I see that boy, I’ll—’
‘No, Bella. He didn’t do anything wrong, I sneaked out without him seeing me. It was Owen who found me when he walked home himself. He called the police, stayed with me while I made a statement.’ She didn’t add that he’d stayed all night with her too.
‘I’ll whip up some fresh scones, jam and cream. On the house, I insist.’
‘No, it’s fine, really. I’m over the shock now.’
‘I’m not!’
Rosie grabbed Bella’s arm before she could escape to the kitchen. ‘The scones can wait. I need to talk to you about something.’
‘Oh no, the mugger didn’t try anything else did he?’
‘No.’ She smiled gently. ‘Apart from a grazed knee and marked neck, no necklace and a few dollars lighter with the loss of my purse, I’m fine. Thankfully I’d left my credit card and other paraphernalia at home.’
‘Well then, what’s so important you can’t take pause for my scones and homemade jam?’ Bella joked.
‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘Why don’t you try?’
‘I had an email from Jane.’
‘Okay.’
‘And I found something.’
‘Found something where?’
Rosie took a deep breath. ‘I found a box, buried in the garden at the house.’
When Bella’s face fell, Rosie knew that in her search for answers, she’d come to exactly the right place.
Chapter Nineteen
Rosie wrapped her hands around her mug of tea. Goose pimples peppered her arms in her short-sleeved dress, but she didn’t know whether it was from the air conditioning or from the shock that Bella not only knew about every item in the box, she knew a whole lot more.
‘Have you mentioned the box to Owen?’ Bella hooked her fingers through the handle of her mug.
‘I haven’t said anything.’
‘Good.’
‘I didn’t ask to be a part of this secret. I shouldn’t have been put in this position.’ Rosie’s defensiveness unleashed.
‘Calm down, Rosie.’
‘No, I won’t calm down. If Owen hadn’t turned up in Magnolia Creek, if we hadn’t become … friends, then I’d be able to stay out of it. But the fact is, he did, and we are, and he doesn’t deserve this.’
‘He does that to people.’ Bella smiled.
‘Does what?’
‘Owen comes across as being very different from the man he is inside, and when you get to know him, he’s someone you value as a friend. He’s a keeper.’
Ignoring Bella’s character analysis, Rosie told her, ‘It’s not my place to show Owen what I found, or to tell him what you’ve told me. But I’m fighting with myself that that’s exactly what I should do.’
Bella looked across the room, past Rosie, way out the window to the bush the other side of the road. ‘I wrestle with my conscience every time that boy looks at me, each time he winks at me when he leaves the café and when he smiles and calls me sweetheart. When he looks out of sorts, I want to hug him and tell him why his mum is the way she is.’
Rosie looked down into the depths of the brown liquid in her cup. This house-sit had pulled her into a family who had woven a web of lies yet still held strong. ‘It was all well and good when Owen was doing his thing and I was doing mine, but—’ She glanced up to find Bella looking at her, eyes begging the question. ‘We’re just good friends.’
‘We’ll see.’
No matter what Owen had become, or became, when Rosie left the café her only dilemma now was how she was going to face him knowing what she knew.
*
Owen pulled off his helmet and rested back on the Ducati’s seat as Rosie walked up the driveway. ‘Hey, I wondered where you’d got to.’
‘I walked to the shops.’ His face must’ve registered surprise because she added, ‘It was fine. It’s daylight.’
‘I know, but after last night—’
‘I’m a big girl, Harrison.’
‘Nah, it doesn’t sound as good as “Stevens”, Stevens.’ Smiling, he rested his helmet on the Ducati and unzipped his jacket, shrugging off the heat of the day that was trying to cook him. ‘How’s the knee?’
‘It doesn’t hurt this morning, and the mark on my neck is already fading.’
‘I can see.’ He had to stop himself from reaching out his fingers and gently tracing the outline of the mark.
She scurried off inside the house before he could say anything else. The space between them today was like the Grand Canyon compared to the closeness they’d shared last night. But after what had happened, he couldn’t blame her. If he ever got his hands on the fucking lowlife, he’d string him up by his balls for what he did to Rosie.
*
‘It’s great to hear your voice,’ Rosie spoke into the iPad for FaceTime with Adam. She desperately needed some semblance of normality right now rather than thinking about the mugging and the secret she’d found and wished she knew nothing about.
‘I hope you’ve got some champagne handy.’ Adam grinned into the camera.
‘Why?’
‘I didn’t get the promotion that keeps me in Singapore, but I did get headhunted for a nine month contract in the U.S. It’s much more money, more responsibility.’
‘It’s great news,’ she said flatly. It looked as though bad things really did come in threes.
‘Come on, Rosie, once I’ve got this experience I’ll be heading home to Australia with much more to offer. I’ll buy us the dream home you deserve.’ He breathed deeply. ‘I know you like life to be laid out in front of you and you don’t like too many surprises, but this is an amazing opportunity to set us up for a great future.’
She grunted.
‘Rosie, come on. We can’t live our lives adhering to some master plan.’
Fuelled by the pressure of secrets she didn’t even want to know, she yelled, ‘I don’t have a master plan, you arsehole!’
‘Rosie!’
‘I’m sick of it, Adam. You make out that it’s me wanting this, wanting to buy a place together, settle down and have a family, when all along you’ve wanted the same. Or at least I thought you did.’
They let the air settle between them, and when Adam spoke again Rosie softened.
‘I’m sorry about my master plan jibe,’ he said.
‘It’s okay.’
‘Do you really think I’m an arsehole?’
‘A big arsehole,’ she laughed. ‘A big arsehole with a big promotion.’ She couldn’t help but beam a smile back at him, and she forgot all about positioning the iPad to hide her neck.
His face got larger as he peered into his own device. ‘What happened to your neck?’
Rosie opened her mouth and surprised herself at the words that came out. ‘I caught my necklace on a door, ripped it right off.’
‘Bloody hell, were you running? It looks a nasty mark.’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Are you really upset?’
Tears sprung into her eyes at his sympathy. ‘I’ll find another one.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ He ran a hand through his fringe and it flopped right back where it had been in the first place.
‘Do you think you’ll be able to come home for Christmas?’ Rosie asked.
‘I can’t, I need to wrap things up here, get myself organised for the new job. I’ll be back in the New Year, and by the end of next year we should be sharing a place. We’ll be together next Christmas and every single one after.’
‘Sounds perfect.’ The thought of every Christmas in the future was enough to placate her.
‘Is Owen going to be around for Christmas?’ Adam asked. ‘If he is, then you could always come here.’
‘Adam, we’ve been through this. When Magnolia House is up and running again it’ll be all hands on deck.’
‘Did I ever mention how proud I am of you, Rosie?’
‘No, tell me again.’
‘I’m very proud of you, and I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
When they hung up Rosie lay on the bed and traced the pillow where Owen’s head had rested last night. She’d felt guilty the second she saw Adam’s face today and heard his voice. She’d never, not for even a minute, thought that she’d share a bed with another man as she told him her life history. Life had caught her out good and proper this time, but lately it felt as though Owen lightened the load of life on her shoulders, whereas Adam continuously added to it.
Chapter Twenty
Tom Harrison laid something called a BabyBjörn on the sofa and untangled its straps as Owen watched on, fascinated. ‘It’s like watching The Krypton Factor.’
‘What’s that?’ Tom successfully attached the baby carrier to his body and scooped ten-month-old Ryan up from where he lay on the kiddie gym on the lounge room floor. He expertly slotted his son into the carrier and pulled the straps at either side to hold him in place.
‘It was a British game show,’ said Owen. ‘Mum visited Auntie Sarah once and was hooked on it. I watched it with her a few times on Foxtel. I’m pretty sure the contestants would’ve had a big challenge in the intelligence test if they were given that baby carrier thingamajig.’
Owen tickled Ryan’s cheek and coaxed a giggle from his nephew, who was well-practised at the art of blowing bubbles at the side of his mouth. Like Owen and Tom, Ryan had dark hair curling in wisps over his ears when it was allowed to get too long. All three of them had Jane Harrison’s deep-set green eyes too.
‘Right, let’s go.’ Tom grabbed the navy-blue sunhat from the side table in the hall, put it on Ryan’s head and scooped up a big black bag.
Owen gallantly took the bag from his brother, surprised by its size. ‘What’s in this?’
‘Nappies, wipes, nappy sacks, hand sanitiser … the regular stuff you need for a trip out the door with a baby.’
‘Whatever happened to grabbing your wallet and keys?’
‘Those days are long gone, bro. And lucky for you, Sadie chose the masculine-coloured change bag rather than a bright pink, orange, or worse, something covered in flowers.’
‘Lucky for you, you mean,’ Owen retorted, ‘otherwise I would’ve made you carry it yourself.’
They left Tom’s house in Port Melbourne and Owen acted as Ryan’s assistant, picking up the hat every time the kid threw it on the ground. He soon realised he was merely a pawn in his nephew’s game.
‘So how’s the property business treating you?’ Tom tilted his head to indicate the park across the road.
‘Not bad.’
‘Still hoping to make it big in Europe?’
‘I’m hoping to expand, yes, maybe nab a bargain while the UK property market is still moving slowly. It’s a big commitment though.’
Tom lifted the latch on the gate and let them into the park. ‘I guess it’d be difficult, too, if you weren’t there to oversee the rentals or renovations.’
‘If I ended up going for it, then I’d have to spend a bit of time over there, probably six months or so. I think I could get a visa easily enough.’
Owen noticed heads turning as they walked past the swings and over to the grass area. ‘So having a baby strapped to your chest appears to be a real babe magnet,’ he whispered to his brother.
‘They probably think we’re gay dads,’ said Tom.
Owen almost turned around to say that he was as heterosexual as they come, but actually it was quite amusing. Let the three women sitting on the bench, hiding behind their sunglasses, think what they like.
‘Have you heard from Mum and Dad?’ asked Tom.
‘Not since I told them I was in town.’
‘I wouldn’t read too much into it. Mum’s probably preoccupied with the funeral and sorting through Auntie Sarah’s things.’
As the boys journeyed into adulthood and Tom had moved out, Owen had confided in him about his feelings towards his mum and how he’d never felt good enough in her eyes. But he still hadn’t shared what he’d overheard his parents talking about that night, or about the article, because in a way he wanted to protect his brothers. He was terrified, too, that the truth could be something devastating, or worse still, something that could come between the siblings.
Owen played tug of war with Ryan using the navy-blue cap. When Ow
en fell backwards, feigning weakness, Ryan thought it hysterical. ‘Have you heard from Mum and Dad?’ He returned Tom’s question even though he already knew the answer.
‘We’ve had iPad FaceTime calls for Ryan. Mum likes to read a bedtime story.’
‘She was always good at those.’ Owen smiled at the memory of cuddling up to her on the sofa in his pyjamas – usually of the superhero variety – and Chanel N°5 the cloak of familiarity around him. In those moments she’d never been a better mum. As he got older she’d been there too, at least physically, watching sporting events, applauding when he’d won the school chess tournament one year.
‘She’s always been proud of you, you know.’ Tom took over the tug of war game Owen suspected Ryan could carry on all day. ‘She told me so.’
‘I’m sure she has.’
Tom rolled his eyes. ‘She did. Why would I lie? She’s always running on about her independent son with the successful property business, his voluntary work with the CFA, how great he is. Actually, it gets on my bloody nerves. It makes me feel pretty inadequate.’
The congratulatory remarks over the years had always felt weak. The words had always been there, the smile too, but something had been missing, and it was as though in some way Jane Harrison had always held herself back when it came to her eldest son.
Owen lifted Ryan onto his lap when he started fussing, and Tom passed his son a teething rusk to chew on. The rusk felt as hard as a rock, but Ryan slobbered over it quite happily.
‘I don’t get why Mum’s making such a fuss about me being at the house when Rosie’s okay with it.’ Owen pulled a face when the brown, now soggy, rusk landed on his hand.
Tom sniggered and handed him a wipe. ‘You know what Mum’s like. She likes to know what’s happening and she wants everything aboveboard. If she had a formal agreement with a house-sitter, she’d want to honour that.’
What Rosie Found Next Page 15
