All That Was Left Unsaid

by Jacquie Underdown

  Chris answered the phone. “Hi, Tina.”

  “Hi.” Her voice was hesitant. “I’m not sure if you even want to speak to me—”

  “Of course,” he said. “It’s fine. How are you going? Considering.”

  “A lot better than I have been.”

  “Yeah, I bet you’re glad it’s all over, hey?”

  A small smile. “You have no idea.”

  “I’m really sorry you had to go through that. It must have been some kind of hell. I’m sure it still is.”

  “Sometimes, I think hell might have been a nicer place to have landed in.”

  “Geez. I can’t even… just the most horrible of circumstances.”

  “Yeah. But, um, Chris, I was calling to see if you would agree to sell the house.”

  “Oh?”

  “I feel like I need a fresh start,” she said.

  “Of course. I can understand that. But it’s a good property.”

  “It is. You can buy me out if you like. If you want to keep it.”

  “Can you give me a few days to think about it?”

  “Sure. No rush. Just thought I’d run it by you before I made any fast decisions.”

  A small silence. “How about I head over there? We could talk about it. I could check the place out.”

  “That’d be nice.”

  “I could come over now?”

  “I’m not busy.”

  Another silence.

  She rubbed her forehead, closed her eyes, giving him time.

  “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you,” he said.

  “It’s okay. I think it’s something I had to get through on my own anyway. It was out of my hands. Out of your hands.”

  “I know, but I could have mowed the lawns at least. Or made you dinner.”

  “Don’t fret,” she said. “I’m out the other side.”

  “Glad to hear it. I’ll head over now. Be there in about twenty minutes.”

  “See you soon.”

  Tina hung up, placed the phone beside her and sighed. She drank her tea as parrots, crows, kookaburras and magpies chirped and carolled in the treetops. That was the most peaceful she had felt in a long time and for that she was grateful.

  When her cup was empty, she stood, dusted the back of her shorts and went inside. As she was rinsing her mug under tap water at the kitchen sink, Chris’s ute turned into the driveway.

  For a moment, just briefly, it was like times of old, as though the years between then and now had never happened.

  Chris parked and headed up the front stairs. The door was open, so he walked straight in. When he met Tina’s gaze as she dried her cup and returned it to the cabinets, only then did he realise he hadn’t knocked. But his intuition hinted that it was meant to happen that way. The way he used to come home. The way a husband would ordinarily enter his house.

  He couldn’t put words to it, but a spark was glowing in Tina’s eyes. He was looking at the woman he had married all those years ago. The woman he had loved. She was there again.

  He drew a deep breath—the first in a very long time it seemed. The tightness across his chest eased and the relaxed man he had always been in her presence returned.

  She smiled. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” he said.

  “You want a cup of coffee?” She had bought a new espresso maker but hadn’t been able to bring herself to drink coffee again, so it hadn’t had much use.

  “I’d love one.”

  She gestured to the dining table. “Good. Take a seat.”

  The familiar way they had always interacted played out between them—the easy rhythm of their roles. Tina was imitating that life where all she had to do was love this man and take care of him. And all he had to do was love her in return and know that he was in good hands.

  When finished, she joined him at the table, placing his coffee down before him and her tea in arms reach.

  “The yard is so green,” he said. “I’m not sure I ever remember it being this green.”

  She looked out the front windows. “I know. It’s all that rain we’ve had. The whole place is renewed.”

  He sipped his coffee. “And you’re sure you want to sell up?”

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. “Maybe I’m running away. I love it here. I do. I just feel like everyone is judging me. I’m not sure anyone can understand what it’s been like…” Her voice cracked and she looked away.

  He reached across the table and rested his hand on hers. “People understand more than you know. No one in their right mind could blame you, let alone punish you, for what happened. It was tragic and incredibly sad. A shock for a town like this. But you’re not to blame for what Maddison did to you. It’s punishment enough to have to live with what happened.”

  Tears filled her eyes as she placed her free hand over her chest. “I’m not sure I will ever forgive myself.”

  He frowned. “I can’t know exactly what it must be like, but I do understand it was very, very hard.”

  “So hard,” she whispered. She sat up taller, cleared her throat, blinked the tears away. “But I’m not going to dwell on it. I’ve done enough of that. I just want to look towards the future.”

  He nodded, a deep sadness moving through his chest, reaching up the back of his throat. “Me too”. He removed his hand from on top of hers. “I filed for a divorce last month.”

  “That’s a shame. I had read in a newspaper Isabelle was living in Tasmania.”

  “She hasn’t wanted anything to do with me. She doesn’t want me to have anything to do with our baby.”

  Tina managed to hide her flinch at the blatant way he had spoken about his child. Vicious jealously curled around her heart and squeezed. “That’s a very cruel thing for her to do.”

  “Yeah. Looks like we all have our crosses to bear.”

  She didn’t comment, remained focused on her teacup.

  “So, how the hell have you been coping through all this?” he asked.

  A small, embarrassed smile. “I’ve been seeing a therapist.”

  His eyes widened. “Wow. You finally caved.”

  “Honestly, she’s helped me so much. Having someone to talk to and guide me through the ups and downs has been a godsend.”

  “I’m really glad to hear that.”

  Tina shifted in her chair, kept her gaze lowered. “Chris there’s something I need to tell you. Something my therapist felt would be good for me to get off my chest.”

  He leaned closer, softened his voice. “Sure. What is it?”

  “That day when Kadie died.”

  His nod was stiff.

  “The story Ben and Maddison told you wasn’t entirely right.”

  “How so?”

  “Maddison did find me and Ben in her bedroom, engaged in…” She cleared her throat.

  He held tight, barely breathing.

  “It wasn’t consensual. What Ben did to me that day wasn’t consensual.”

  His mouth opened and shut. “What are you saying?”

  She shook her hands, blew out a breath. Tears brimmed. “Your brother raped me.”

  Chris’s chair flung back, scraping against the floorboards and he lurched to his feet. “What the actual hell?”

  She held her hands up, palms facing him. “Please. Sit down. This is so hard to speak about. I need you to be seated. Please.”

  He was breathing heavily, but he nodded and slowly sat. Inside his chest a storm was brewing. A tight, hot, violent storm. “I’m going to kill him!” He pointed in the direction of their former house. “He did all of this. All of this started because of him. I lost everyone I have ever loved—Kadie, Ruby, Riley, and now my baby. Not to mention you.”

  Tina tried her hardest to stay calm, to keep Chris calm. She wouldn’t be able to get through this with much more emotion. “Chris, I’m not about to tell you how to feel or react. You have every right to be angry. Every right. But it’s not going to help either of us now. In any way. Can you understand that?”
<
br />   A resigned sigh. “I guess.”

  “I’ve told you about my childhood. A little of it. The sexual abuse I suffered.”

  He nodded, frowned.

  “Well, it seems all that was sitting beneath the surface waiting to blow up in my face. What happened that day with Ben, broke me. Mentally. Physically. I can barely remember three years of my life. It’s been a long, hard road trying to claw my way back. Trying to get” – she tapped her chest – “me back. I didn’t deserve what happened to me. I sure as hell didn’t ask for it. But what happened had consequences that went beyond me. That includes our marriage. I want to take responsibility for that side of things. I regret that I didn’t fight harder that day. Fight Ben off me. And fight to keep you. You didn’t deserve what happened either.”

  “You’re not seriously blaming yourself?”

  She shook her head hard. “Absolutely not. At least not anymore. I did. Once. I blamed myself for a lot of things. But I know better now. I’m apologising for what happened to us. And to our marriage. That’s one of the biggest regrets of my life. Not fighting to keep you.”

  He slumped in his chair, scrubbed his hands over his face. “Bloody hell, Tina. If only I knew. I would never have left. Never. I could have helped—”

  “It’s too late for all that. The past has happened. I understand why you left. Roles reversed, I would have done the same. Any rational person would do the same. This isn’t about trying to change anything, but rather acknowledging, for my closure, and for my healing, the part I played. I know better now. I’m in a better place. A stronger place. I won’t ever be that person again.”

  He rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand, looked up to the ceiling. “What an absolute mess this is.” His fist came down hard towards the table, but he stopped before he made impact. “Ben destroyed our lives.”

  “You think that?”

  A derisive laugh, as though it was self-evident. “Of course. I was a wreck for years. It almost killed me when I left you. I wanted you so badly to tell me to stay and say that you still loved me. But I was insecure. I thought you wanted someone more than me and that’s why you slept with Ben.” His nose wrinkled with his distaste. “I blamed myself for not being here enough. God, and then I went and married the first woman who even looked my way, thinking that would make me feel better about myself. But it didn’t. It just screwed everything up so much more.”

  Heat blasted his cheeks for admitting to that. But it was the truth. Isabelle was young and pretty and he was aching for validation and reassurance that his wife didn’t screw his brother because he wasn’t enough of a husband for her.

  Now that he knew the real truth about what had happened to Tina, he wished the reasons for the indiscretion were as petty as he had first believed them to be.

  As though reading his mind, she reached for his hand and held it. “Ben is suffering in more ways than we can ever imagine for what he did. That’s enough for me.”

  His jaw tightened, head drooped. “I know he would be. But he did the wrong thing. I’m sick of giving him concessions. He’s had more than enough.”

  “I know. But I’m not going through another trial. I’m not digging up that day all over again just to make it official.”

  He pursed his lips and eventually nodded.

  “We look forward,” she said. “You don’t have to be nice to him. You don’t even have to talk to him. But I can’t handle any more police. Any more hurt. Any more trials, okay? I just want to move on. But I needed to let you know the truth. You deserve that. For your own healing.”

  He pushed to his feet, took her hands and helped her from her chair. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “I am so sorry for the pain you’ve been through. I wish I could take it all away from you.”

  “Don’t worry, Chris. I’m strong.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “As I said, I’ve come through to the other side. I have a bright future ahead of me now.”

  After a long moment, she pulled herself out of his arms and collected her teacup from the table. “Grab your coffee, I’ll show you the fruit trees.” She smiled. “They’re blooming again.”

  “Really?”

  She led him outside to the mandarin tree. It was full of big, bright orange fruit.

  “Wow,” he said. “I remember when we first planted this. I got so sunburnt. I looked like a cooked lobster for days afterwards. I copped so much stick at work for that.”

  She laughed. “And I put aloe vera leaves in the fridge to cool before rubbing them on you. But it was so cold against the heat of your burn, you were in agony.”

  As they inspected the mulberry tree, Chris pulled a ripe, fragrant berry off its stem and popped it into his mouth. “They’re better than I remember. You really can’t get fruit that tastes like this from the shops.”

  “The mangos were amazing this summer. Tasted like a spoon full of sugar.”

  “I haven’t had a decent mango for five years,” he said with a wry smile.

  “There’s always next summer.”

  He grinned. “Yeah, there is.”

  She took him around the property, discussing things that might need mending—a fence paling, a bent letterbox, a rusted panel on the carport.

  “Yard needs a good mow,” he said. “I can come back and do that tomorrow. Get it all neat and tidy.”

  “Geez, if we keep going like this” – she giggled – “I may not want to leave here.”

  He shrugged. “Don’t. Maybe give it a little time first and see what happens. Things will calm down. The goldfish brains around town will soon move on to other things.”

  She kicked at the grass with the toe of her shoe. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  They headed back inside and rinsed their cups in the sink.

  “Stay for dinner,” she said.

  “You sure?”

  “I’d love the company.”

  He smiled. “I would too.”

  At that moment, he remembered something he had seen there, on the fridge, before everything went to hell. A box of prescription tablets. He looked at Tina, trying to process the new thoughts that were pounding his brain. Connections were forming like chain links on a long fence.

  He wasn’t entirely sure what made him do what he did next, but it would make more sense later on after he’d had time to process it. A step towards her. His breaths were deep. Eyes glossing. He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers.

  With her warm mouth against his, all their shared memories came flooding back. All the joy, all the love. None of the pain. They had been so happy once. An ache in his chest as he realised he wanted that again so much.

  When her arms slung around his neck and she floated closer, her warm body against his, he had the overwhelming sense of finally coming home. She took his hand, gazed into his eyes and led him to her bedroom. He didn’t hesitate. In her arms, in her bed, in their home, was where he belonged. Had always belonged.

  Tina lay back, letting Chris climb on top. Everything she had ever wanted was wrapped in her arms. Big. Strong. She breathed him in as she kissed his neck. He smelled so good. Her hands roamed over his strong arms, down his chest. Potent desire, only he could evoke, was surging through her body as he slowly undressed her. She wanted to cheer, to laugh, to sing that she was back.

  And when he finally entered her with care and tenderness, she almost cried with relief. He was still Chris. And she still wanted him.

  Validation, triumph, bloomed in her soul because everything she had done to bring them both to this exact moment in time had been worth it.

  Chapter 40

  The morning of the murder…

  The opportunity to murder someone didn’t arise every day. Electricity sparked through Tina’s veins as she dressed into the outfit she had chosen to wear for that occasion—a flattering skirt and blouse—and applied a little makeup. Her tummy was fluttering. She couldn’t discern if those feelings were nerves or excitement.

  Happy with her appearance,
she hummed as she went to the kitchen and unsealed her bag of powdered Scopolamine.

  After trailing Isabelle to work yesterday, she had stopped by Ben and Maddison’s on her way home. As anticipated, the house was empty—both parents at the gym and the kids at school.

  She had parked a distance away, wearing her parcel delivery uniform, and, while carrying a big white package, strode up to the front door and called, “Delivery”.

  Of course, no one answered, so she quietly slipped around the side of the house to the backyard that was shielded from the neighbouring properties by tall fences and shady trees. She rummaged through her pockets for three clear plastic shower caps and a pair of latex gloves.

  She placed two of the caps over her shoes and slipped her hands into the gloves. Her hair was tied back, plaited, but she fitted the last plastic shower cap on her head and dusted her shoulders and clothes before she went to the back door, testing the lock. It was open.

  It had taken no more than ten minutes to sneak inside, plant the empty prescription box in the drawer of Maddison’s bedside table, then find the spice grinder to crush the tablets, slipping the powdery substance into a resealable bag before placing the grinder back in the kitchen cupboard.

  Ignoring her growing jitteriness, Tina poured some of the scopolamine powder into the canister of pre-ground coffee beans, then set about preparing a double-shot flat white. She added a heap of extra powder to an empty travel mug before pouring the hot coffee into it. Ready to go. Once she started drinking that, she had twenty minutes before it kicked in.

  That was the part Tina was most anxious about. She didn’t take medications usually. So, she had tested her response to smaller doses to see how she would cope, but to also have physical evidence to support her story that she had been drugged over a few weeks.

  She had handled the smaller doses well, but she had no idea what to expect when she would consume almost toxic levels later on. All she could hope for was that she gained quick medical attention, her concocted version of events was so well rehearsed that she didn’t blow it while delirious and that she didn’t accidentally overdose.