Deleilah

by Bowes, K T

  Chapter 40

  Threats and Promises

  “Leilah!” Vaughan’s voice sounded anxious as he ran up behind her. “Where did you go?” He reached for her and Leilah backed away until her backside touched the truck.

  “Home.” She gritted her teeth and stuck her chin in the air, warding Vaughan off with her aura of disdain. He ignored it.

  “We need to talk.” His fingers brushed her forearm and Leilah batted him away.

  “I’m sorry for taking Hector’s truck and I’ll return it when I get my own car back.”

  “I don’t want the truck. I intended to give it to you, anyway. I think that’s what Horse wanted to do.”

  “Then let me go, Vaughan. I need a chance to move forward without you getting in my way.”

  He looked hurt, darts of pain flaring in his dark eyes. “Yeah. That was my problem, aye? Always in the way, wasn’t I?”

  Leilah gritted her teeth. “Don’t try to make me feel guilty. It’s not my fault your life didn’t work out.”

  “Well, it sure as hell wasn’t my fault!” Vaughan moved closer and ran a rough hand along Leilah’s cheek. She closed her eyes against the memories resurrected by his touch and he capitalised on her weakness. “Leilah.” His voice was soft and she felt his breath caress her cheek. “I don’t want to leave it like this. I want to marry you and I won’t take no for an answer.”

  “You have to.” Leilah’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m bad news and you need to trust me on this.”

  “What if I don’t want to?” Vaughan’s lips quirked upwards in humour as he felt her resolution falter. His smile was seductive and touched something deep in Leilah’s soul. Leilah Hanover shook her head in rueful disdain, feeling the pull on the lid protecting her secret. Vaughan’s hands either side of Leilah’s waist were persuasive and she exhaled in a sigh. “There’s something you don’t know,” she began. “And you won’t be able to forgive me.”

  “Miss?” Tai’s voice conveyed his concern. “You ok, miss?” His gaze strayed towards Vaughan’s imposing figure and flicked back towards Leilah.

  “Hey.” Claus appeared from the car park, his hair on end as he rubbed at his eyes. “Tai says you sacked the morons. They took my work phone so I couldn’t call you.”

  Leilah shucked Vaughan’s grip and turned to greet Claus with a smile. “Yeah. They pushed things too far and ended up with a trip to the police station. Are you planning on sticking around?”

  Claus shrugged, his spikey hair shuddering in the breeze. “I wasn’t. Give me a reason.” His South African accent had a lyrical quality which invoked a sense of peace into Leilah’s shattered nerves.

  “There’s a vacancy for a good builder up at my place,” Leilah said, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Only problem is that I’m living there. I want to concentrate on the outside first so I can start my new business. How about you begin tomorrow?”

  “What about me? Can I work for you too?” Tai’s eyes widened with anxiety and Leilah gave him a watery smile.

  “If you behave. I’ll see you both tomorrow.” She turned with a wave and side stepped Vaughan’s outstretched arms, diving into the driver’s seat and closing the door behind her. She knew his brows knitted in consternation and ignored his pain, starting the truck and gunning the engine so that the vehicle lurched away from the curb. “Sorry, baby,” she whispered, seeing his misery as she glanced in the rear-view mirror. “I can’t bring the mistakes of my past into my future. I have to start again.”

  Leilah’s phone beeped as she made the turn onto her driveway and she pulled over to the left and grappled with it. Seline’s voice issued from the device as a wail. “Mum, Dad’s gone mental!”

  Leilah felt the energy drain from her body, her bum sinking into Hector’s well-worn seat as the weight of her failed marriage and ropey parenting bore down on her head. “What’s he done?” Her voice sounded lethargic and listless.

  “He says unless you call off the merger, he’ll tell everyone your secret.” There was a pause before Seline’s inevitable question. “Mum, what’s the secret?”

  Leilah gulped. “I wasn’t well after you were born and spent time in a mother and baby unit?”

  “Oh.” Her daughter’s voice was a low hiss. “So, you wouldn’t want people to know that? But it’s not a bad thing. Nobody will judge you.”

  Leilah nodded, realising Seline couldn’t see her. “Don’t worry, baby. It’s fine. He can’t hurt me anymore than he already has.”

  “But what if he tells the papers?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Leilah allowed the scorn to seep back into her voice. “We’re not the golden couple anymore, baby. Nobody will care.”

  “What about all your friends? Won’t they resent you not sharing with them?”

  Leilah snorted. “Oh, they’ll hate me for not providing more fodder for their gossip mill but this was never something I’d share with them. Don’t worry. They’ve had enough time to get in touch and find out how I’m doing but they haven’t bothered. I’ve no intention of seeing any of them again.” Leilah ran a dusty hand across her eyes. “What about you? Will you be ok if he drops the proverbial bomb?”

  “Yeah, Mum. I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. I’m back at my flat with the others. Dad doesn’t even know where that is.”

  “He’s been paying for it for the last year,” Leilah said. “He loves you, Seline. Please don’t doubt that.”

  “Mum, you don’t have to make excuses for him. I saw how he behaved towards you; I just pretended I didn’t because you worked so hard to keep it from me.”

  Leilah pressed her fingers to her lips and suppressed the sob. She refrained from answering until her voice sounded normal again. “He wasn’t always like that.”

  “I know. I remember.” Seline sighed. “He was kind once.” Her voice hardened. “He wasn’t nice when I tried to look after him, Mum. I wanted to help, but he got nastier the longer I stayed.”

  “Yeah, he probably needs a fix.”

  “Don’t say that, Mum. He’s not a junkie, is he?”

  Leilah gritted her teeth. “Face facts, baby; I’ve had to. What started as the odd, recreational dabble with his private school friends got out of control. He’s an addict now and after his affair I couldn’t bear to stick around and be his punch bag. I’m sorry, Seline. I’ve made a mess of my life and dragged you along behind me.”

  “Can we talk soon, Mum?” Leilah’s daughter asked, her tone plaintive. “Will you tell me the truth about everything?”

  “I promise, baby. Everything. I need to go back to Hamilton to clear out the apartment and I’ll drive up to see you then.”

  “You sound happy.” Seline sounded wistful. “Have you found somewhere to live?”

  “I’m home, baby. I’ve bought Poppa Hector’s farm and I’m renovating the house. You can have my old bedroom. What colour would you like it to be?”

  “Ooh, don’t paint it yet. I’ll pick something and we can do it together.” Seline sounded upbeat at last, excited about something instead of weighed down by adult concerns.

  “Deal,” Leilah said, smiling into the phone and feeling the peace of the mountain wash over her. But as her daughter disconnected, the sick feeling raced back in like a tide reclaiming lowland. Michael’s desperation induced terror and she bit her tongue against the lie she’d fed Seline. Nobody would care about a teenage mother who found herself on a mental ward aged eighteen; that much was true. But if he really wanted to damage her, Michael Hanover would tell the press the juiciest piece of gossip imaginable and crush Seline in the fallout. He’d tell them all he raised another man’s child, robbing Leilah of the chance to come clean. “That’s why you stopped me,” she mused, staring at the lonely mountain ahead. “It wasn’t because you wanted to be her father; it was so you could use it to control me.”

  A strange phone number appeared on her screen but the tone of the message made it clear her ex-husband had found her. Michael’s threat hung in the air lik
e a dirty mirage. ‘Call off the sale or I’ll hurt Seline.’

  Chapter 41

  Complicated Relationships

  Leilah woke up on the floor of the wardrobe, her cheek damp and her body stiff. She groaned as she sat up, her chest sore from sobbing. She quashed the memory of Seline’s father as he visited her dreams. Shared ecstasy rose between them like a haze, condemning their frantic teenage fumbling. He knew every inch of her body; had seen it, touched it, tasted it. At eighteen and newly inducted into the adult world of sex they’d been insatiable and Leilah felt the burn of desire accompanied by the toll of alarm bells. “It was a long time ago,” she whispered, pressing trembling fingers to her forehead.

  Her phone sat next to her on the floor, waiting for Tane to return her panicked call. She resented relying on him so much. Leilah sat on her bottom on the dusty floor, legs crossed and elbows resting on her knees. “This is stupid.” She sighed and scratched at a mark on her boot, eyeing the safe with frustration. “This wasn’t here when I grew up. Someone else installed it.” Leilah reached out a hesitant finger and stroked the dusty metal. Age spotted the surface with blossoming rust pimples and gouges scored the outer edges. Anxiety made Leilah delay and she sat back and worried at her thumb nail. “If it’s not Dad’s,” she said, “I won’t be able to open it.”

  Leilah swallowed the lie, forcing herself to believe she could read her dead parent’s mind and come up with the number code to release the mechanism. An ancient dial controlled any access, dusty and unused. “Here goes,” Leilah breathed, turning the wheel.

  An hour later she was no nearer to releasing the door of the safe. Her jeans were filthy from the floor and sweat trickled down the small of her back. The longer she battled with the ancient metal box, the more frustration took over her psyche and she felt the need to bust it open. “Arrrghh!” she shrieked and kicked out, hitting the centre of the door with the sole of her boot. “Why won’t you let me in?”

  The safe jerked backwards on its heavy legs but only a few centimetres. Nothing clicked or groaned and the door remained closed against Leilah’s anger.

  “I’ve been asking myself that same question for years.” Vaughan’s voice sounded miserable and Leilah jumped and screamed simultaneously. Fright turned to anger and she lashed out with her fist, catching him on the shin. He jumped back, darkness flashing in his eyes. “Bloody hell, Leilah! There’s no need for that.”

  She clambered to her hands and knees and stood, her heart still thumping blood through her eardrums. “Don’t creep up on people!” she screamed at the top of her voice. Tears pricked behind Leilah’s eyes and she took a shot at Vaughan’s face, missing and landing a punch on his broad chest. He looked shocked at first but batted a second blow away and flicked his wrist so that he caught Leilah’s hand in his.

  “Stop!” he said, authority in his tone. He reached out his other hand and made a grab for Leilah’s flailing fist and trapped the pair, dragging her into him to keep her still. She glanced down and he sensed a kick coming, moving backwards so she was off balance, her face pressed into his shirt front. “Leilah, baby, stop!”

  She righted herself and her head shot up, blues eye flashing with rage at the sight of him gripping her hands. She flexed her fingers and pulled, but his strong hands kept her pinned. Realising she was trapped Leilah’s demeanour changed. Courage leaked from her in a single flush of energy and she winced, anger replaced by terror. Vaughan saw it and dropped her hands, raising his to run shaking fingers through his hair. Leilah’s reaction appalled him. With the lift of his hand she ducked, covering her head with her arms.

  He knew the signs and something in him cracked. “Leilah, no, no, no. I’d never hurt you.” Vaughan took a step back and inhaled, the familiar pity overwhelming and turning him into a fixer-of-frightened-women again. Memories of his wife’s scars haunted him and he raked Leilah’s face for confirmation. His voice hardened. “Did Harvey attack you, Leilah? Tell me. I’ll kill him!”

  “No!” Leilah gasped. She cowered by the safe, exhaling rapid, shallow breaths and fighting to restore her dignity. “Not him.”

  Vaughan took a step towards her and Leilah couldn’t prevent the involuntary flinch his height and strength invoked. She closed her eyes and allowed the air to hiss through her teeth.

  “Your husband? Did your fancy pants husband hit you?” Vaughan balled his fists by his sides, his body rigid. “Tell. Me. Leilah.” He struggled to form the words without projecting his rage, knowing it wouldn’t help.

  “Yes!” she screamed, shame overwriting fear. “Yes, he hit me! Is that what you wanted to know?” Leilah heaved in a breath, her eyes flashing like a cornered animal’s. “And nobody else will ever get the chance to do it again.”

  Vaughan turned to lean his head back against the door frame, his boots knocking the wardrobe door. Closing his eyes, he imagined the city hotshot in his power suits, blonde hair always styled with care. Michael Hanover. Vaughan opened his eyes and Leilah watched him stare at his palms. Scarred and calloused they were honest hands, like his Uncle Horse taught them to be. They broke the frightened mares with kindness and patience and she saw him trying to fathom the sensation of striking a soft, female body with hard, knuckled fists.

  “Leilah?” Vaughan turned, leaning against the doorframe, his face a mask of confusion.

  “Don’t.” She gathered her wits and straightened her rumpled blouse. The gentle swell of her breasts escaped the singlet beneath her shirt as she bent to brush dust from her jeans. “I don’t need pity.” Leilah’s full lips worked into a pout of defiance as she avoided his gaze, sensing his turmoil and resenting his perception. She aimed a spiteful kick at the safe and pushed past Vaughan into the bedroom.

  “Leilah,” he said again and his hands were soft on her shoulders. She resisted the urge to react, permitting his touch and convincing herself the fluttering in her stomach was the aftermath of fear. Vaughan’s fingers strayed from her shoulder to her neck, tracing the growing welts which betrayed the spiteful grip of two sick men in one day. Leilah closed her eyes and rested her cheek against Vaughan’s palm, savouring the familiar caress. Her resolve crumbled against his touch, yearning to put the clock in reverse. “I love you, Leilah,” he whispered. “I always have and always will. Don’t push me away, baby. Please?”

  “It’s too messy,” Leilah answered, her voice thick with tears and her cheek slick against Vaughan’s palm. “Nobody gets to go back.”

  “Please?” he begged, his voice cracking. “I never understood, Leilah. What happened?”

  Leilah took a step back, the portcullis of her heart crashing over its fractured remains. “I don’t want to talk about the past.” Her tone changed, adopting a hardness which banished the tears. She picked up the hem of her shirt and wiped her face. “It’s riddled with my mistakes.”

  “What mistakes?” Vaughan risked catching her around the waist and holding her fast, watching her pupils dilate as she assessed him as a potential threat. “I need to know.”

  Leilah swallowed. “I went to uni but things went wrong. I came back, but it was already too late. You’d all moved on and I left. I made a life for myself in Auckland, met Michael and stayed.” She lifted her eyes to his, daring him to comment. “I should never have come back here.”

  Vaughan shook his head, lowering it so their foreheads touched. When Leilah tolerated his proximity he pushed his luck further, seeking the elusive answers which would give him closure. “What happened, Leilah? Why did you leave the second time?”

  Leilah bit her lip and fought the dreadful memory. A hand went instinctively to her stomach. Ted’s words stuck in her brain like an echo of pain. ‘Funny relationships you young people. One minute you’re huggin’ and kissin’ and the next, he’s got his tongue down the throat of another tamāhine. Don’t go searching him out, young Leilah. That boyfriend of yours will be sowing his seed faster than a kumara pit. Go back to the city, Leilah, go on, make yer father proud.’

  “Leilah,
talk to me.” Vaughan’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his face ashen. “Please?” He released Leilah in a fluid motion which made her grip the doorframe in trembling fingers. “We needed you. I needed you! You left for twenty years and didn’t look back!”

  “I’m not doing this.” Leilah’s voice was a hiss and she sensed the rage as it rocked Vaughan’s body, driving him to bend double and put his hands on his knees. She saw the strands of grey in his dark locks and fought the desire to reach out and touch them. When he stood up, his eyes flashing like black coals she skittered away, pushing herself into the small recess of the wardrobe, instinct overriding everything else with the need to survive.

  A furious roar of frustration and disappointment escaped Vaughan’s chest and he punched the wall behind him. His fist went straight through and wall board and plaster rained down on his boots. He swore, hissing every filthy word he’d ever heard and Leilah dropped lower in the tiny space, covering her head with her arms and waiting for the violence to start.

  It didn’t. Vaughan turned and strode from the house, its fragile structure too small to contain him and the house shaking on its piles with the slamming of the rickety front door.

  Chapter 42

  Voice From the Grave

  Leilah wiped her dripping nose with the cuff of her blouse and sniffed. Her bum ached from the rounded nail heads protruding from the wooden floor and the expected sense of satisfaction at cracking the safe eluded her. The contents spread out in a childish arc before her and Leilah let her fingers run over her father’s memories. She hadn’t needed fancy tools or hardened criminals to solve her mystery. On a whim she spun the dial through the six numbers which made up her birthday and heard the cog open on the last digit. The heavy door seemed to come loose in her hand; disgorging the smell of aged dust, Hector’s army issue handgun from Vietnam and a sheaf of papers.

  Leilah’s tears splashed on the worn brown stock as she handled her father’s gun. The hammer was cocked and examination showed a round in the chamber and the safety catch on. The notches on the barrel invoked a flood of memories which made the breath catch in Leilah’s throat, emerging as a miserable groan. “Dad!” She raised the grip to her nose and inhaled, searching for any residue of her father’s scent, collected from strong, olive hands which dealt in stroppy or frightened horses. “I miss you so much,” Leilah breathed. “I let you down. Please forgive me.”