by Fiona Greene
He couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d stabbed a rusty knife into her heart. Her eyes started to fill with tears. Angrily, she dashed them away. ‘And I know how hard that is, even if my limited experience was nothing like yours, so do not start with me. You want to look after your family?’ She made fists in her skirt. ‘Well, Rivervue is my family. I did what I had to, to protect each and every person from the threat of being “revitalised”. If you don’t like the way I played this, you might want to look at how Council played it. I’m pretty sure there were preliminary plans drawn up long before we were notified about your “proposal”.’
There was the slightest flash of something in his eyes.
‘You hypocrite.’ Anger boiled up from low down in her stomach. ‘You …’ She stopped. Now she was behaving the way he expected of her. She clamped her mouth shut and glared at him.
He stared back.
They stood like that forever. Eventually, Mark dropped his eyes. When he raised them again it was like that first day in her office. All Business, with a capital B. ‘Thanks for letting me know. Do you think we could keep a lid on this for now? I’ll call a meeting early next week to discuss. Well before Saturday.’
‘Okay.’ Lexi blinked a few times and celebrated her little win. It had been a long time since her last staring contest.
The secret was out now, for better or for worse. From here on in, they were all passengers on this slightly out-of-control train as it headed down the mountain. She just wasn’t sure who was driving, or who was conducting anymore.
She gestured to the manuscript. ‘You’ll keep that safe. It’s the original.’ Her stomach churned at the thought of it being lost or damaged. ‘I’m going to put together a public display, after the play is finished, with the original manuscript as the centrepiece. I think the people will want to see it.’
‘I will.’ He stared at the script in his hand. Then he laid it carefully on the table. As he did, Lexi saw him shake his head.
‘I know what you think of me, but I need you to know, when I looked at this, it was through the filter of “what’s best for Rivervue?”’ She paused. ‘Look at it carefully. It might well be what’s best for Brachen too.’
Mark made a noncommittal sound and strode toward the door. ‘You should go. I have work to do.’
Work?
Lexi cast a longing gaze at the wooden box in its red velvet cover that sat on his dining table.
‘Mark?’ She didn’t know what to say but she had to say something.
‘You should go.’
‘Mark, I’m truly sorry for hurting you. And for never telling you about Caleb.’
He ushered her onto the porch. He didn’t wait until she left but walked straight back inside. The door snicked shut, loud on the quiet street.
Lexi stared at the closed door, the image of the red velvet-covered box on the dining table fresh in her mind.
She blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears.
Too late.
He should have been in there, finding out about his son. Instead, he was busy hating her for a business decision that she should never have been forced to make.
Business was business, she understood that, but didn’t Mark want to find out about his son?
Chapter Twelve
Mark prowled restlessly from one end of the townhouse to the other. In his home office, the computer was on, the script was laid out and he had a clear picture of the enigma named Draven.
At least, as clear as the internet could draw for him.
He avoided the dining table and did another lap.
What he didn’t have was a picture of what he needed to do about Lexi’s bombshell about the play.
Or the other bombshell.
Bile filled his throat. He had a son. No, he’d had a son, past tense.
And he’d never know him, never experience the joy of getting to know him.
He burned with anger. But close on its heels was regret. He wasn’t blameless here. That day on the pavement outside the bus station … He’d driven her away. He’d stood there and callously broken her heart, reassured by people he trusted that ‘she’d get over him’ and ‘it was just a crush’.
That memory drove the anger harder.
What unfolded all those months later wasn’t preventable, but he could have been there.
Memories of Emma’s birth flashed into his mind. Every contingency had been prepped for, they’d chosen a hospital with neonatal support, both sets of parents had dropped everything to be in town, there’d been a birth plan AND a backup plan.
He remembered the first time he held her, when he promised to love her forever and to never let anything bad happen to her. He remembered the awe and respect he had for Emma’s mum, for growing such a gorgeous baby, and for delivering her.
And he remembered the celebrations for the first grandchild on both sides of the family.
Except, she wasn’t.
He sank into a chair at the table as the anger drained away and emptiness claimed him.
All of their endless hours of research and agonising over the best of every-thing for his baby girl: the safest car seat, the best pram, and the best-quality linens and outfits. The squabbles over her middle name.
Lexi hadn’t had any of that. Her decisions had been far simpler. What was the best option to keep her child alive, and when that wasn’t possible, what was the best way for him to die with dignity. And she’d made those decisions in some tiny out-of-the-way town, and with no support from anyone she knew.
A child burying a child.
Alone.
Because of him.
His stomach clenched as grief and shame and horror washed over him.
Nobody should have to deal with that alone.
And yet, with help from a stranger, she’d made a keepsake box and kept it at the ready. Just in case.
He lay his palms flat on the table and took a deep breath. Then another.
Part of him was desperate to know what was in the box. Another part of him never wanted to open it, to store it away, to avoid the pain.
He glanced to the mantle, where a black-and-white photo of Emma had pride of place. It had been taken about a year earlier when she’d been at some sort of horse show. She was grinning, highlighting her dimple. The monochrome captured every freckle on her face. Happiness radiated from her, and with all the upheaval in her life, that had been a milestone.
When his marriage broke up, he’d almost lost Emma to her mother’s selfish quest for control. The pain and fear had been unrelenting.
Knowing about Caleb, but not knowing Caleb, ripped out his heart in exactly the same way.
At least, if he looked, he’d be able to assure himself Caleb had been cared for.
Mark closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Then he reached for the box.
***
Lexi checked her phone, then her email.
Still nothing from Mark.
As the afternoon shadows lengthened, and night fell, she closed the front door, left open all day in welcome. Eventually, she settled out on the patio, where just the day before she and Mark had shared such a special night. In stark contrast to some hours before, the patio was cold and uninviting. After five minutes Lexi went back inside.
She should eat.
But food was the last thing she wanted. She made a coffee and went to the fridge to get milk. The leftovers from the grazing platters were front and centre; Lexi slammed the fridge shut. Then she pulled it open again and found the chocolate she’d shoved in there the night before. She grabbed the peppermint filled block, and finally settled at the breakfast bar.
She should never have invited Mark out here. This whole situation could have been avoided if she’d followed her head, and kept it business.
Being with Mark as a teenager had altered the course of her life forever more. Last night, she’d repeated the same mistake. Assuming he cared for her the way she cared for him.
Clearly, he didn’t.
N
ow there was nowhere in this house she could escape from him.
Lexi glanced around her sanctuary for the last six years, with its warm woodwork and its stained-glass windows. It had been her first purchase once she secured the job as creative director at Rivervue. Buying it had been such a proud moment for her. For the first time in her adult life, she’d rewarded the hard work that had pulled her out of the mess that was her past. For the first time she’d committed to something other than the make-believe offered by the theatre and its community.
‘You’re an idiot,’ she told her reflection in the hall mirror. ‘Any chance you stood of having a relationship with Mark Conroy sailed out the door that day back in Sydney, when you were both kids. Before Caleb. Before Rivervue.’ That familiar sick feeling churned her up inside. ‘The sooner you accept it, the easier this is going to be.’
Lexi closed her eyes, trying to hide from the truth being delivered by sensible, pragmatic Lexi. But it was no use.
There was no future with Mark now.
Her best chance of salvaging anything from this whole mess lay with the theatre.
She had to put her energies into Rivervue, and the Bicentennial Festival, and making Larrikin the best production Brachen had ever seen. Hopefully, she would have done enough to silence the critics, especially the mayor. A successful production might have enough momentum to stop the redevelopment, and if she achieved that, her work would be done.
What if you fail?
Fear, her arch enemy, whispered to her from the wings.
Lexi straightened her shoulders and opened her eyes to stare at her reflection.
If she failed, she’d do what she’d always done when it was clear there was no other option.
Hide her heartbreak, hold her head high and exit, stage right.
Chapter Thirteen
Lexi waved at Dylan as he and Phantom headed out on their walk. As always, there were plenty of people watching the sunrise from the riverbank. Most of them would stroll along the river walk for a while, then head over the bridge and onto Main Street for Sunday breakfast.
She went straight into work.
After yesterday’s “check phone every five minutes” she checked in online with the youth theatre campers, made sure they were okay for their return later in the day, then threw her phone in her desk drawer.
Her empty desk drawer.
What was Mark doing, now he had the original script?
She tried to ignore the technology that connected her to the world.
It should have been easy, given the amount of work she had to do, but every notification, every alert, her heart raced. Eventually she texted Kenzie. We’re testing some stuff at Rivervue and I can’t hear my phone. Can you RING (not text) me any probs. I’ll put it on vibrate.
Kenzie’s thumbs-up response arrived seconds later.
‘Problem solved.’ She jammed the phone into the pocket of her pedal pushers and went back to cross-checking the run sheets. The hard work on the audio files, of finding the sound bites to use, was done. Now she was just splicing the audio into the production. Not their operating audio—that had audio recorded by Richard in his ‘old Ron’ character voice—but a version for the final tech run. One final surprise for the cast and crew.
Though, where did ‘surprise’ end and ‘lie’ begin? The lines were so very blurry now.
By lunchtime, she was happy, and she moved on to the promotional material. After a final proofread, she marked them up then composed the email to send to the printer.
Then she stopped.
What had Mark said? She cast her mind back. Some of their conversation was burned into her brain. The information around what he’d asked her to do unfortunately wasn’t. She tapped her nail against her teeth. She could ring him.
Or not.
Just thinking about him made her heart pound. Last night, with her belly full to bursting with creamy mint goodness, she’d made the decision to keep her contact with Mark business all the way. Any contact on her part, even if it was to do with the play, might deliver another body blow. And she wasn’t ready for that.
Yesterday had forced her to face her past, and potentially ruined her future. As much as she’d have liked to go back in time and do things differently, that wasn’t an option.
If. Only.
One of her least favourite games.
If only Council had trusted her with the bicentennial, she wouldn’t be working with Mark.
If only they hadn’t tried the grazing platters from the Edgy Veggie, Mark wouldn’t have come to her house.
If only she hadn’t tried to fix that disaster by coming clean, she wouldn’t be worried about commissioning the promotional materials. Lexi picked up the heavy resin paperweight that contained Caleb’s ashes. She held it tight between her palms before returning it to the desk. The deadline for the printed materials didn’t change because she’d done something to put the play in jeopardy.
She had to continue on with her plan for the production of Larrikin as though the last few days had never happened. She hit send on her draft email.
***
An hour before the bus was due to return, Lexi cleared her desk and prepared to lock up. The unease that started when she handed Mark the original script was escalating, but that die was cast. She had a digital copy and several photocopies. If she lost the original, so be it. One thing working in the theatre had taught her was to always have a contingency, and to be prepared to activate it if needed.
This play was no different.
And if she lost the battle over the Rivervue Revitalisation, well she’d deal with that when it happened.
There’d been nothing from Kenzie, she realised when she checked her phone. There were, however, two new appointments from Mark. One early Monday, just him and her in her office. He’d blocked her calendar out until the second meeting at two in the mayor’s office, with Forsdyke, Thomas Clayborne, Mark and herself. There was a list of items a mile long to bring to the first appointment, and Lexi used the brief window of time until the bus arrived to copy the electronic files into a folder for Mark.
Ten minutes out, and with the car park filling with parents, Lexi knew she couldn’t hide upstairs forever. Mark would be arriving any second now to pick up Emma, and no matter what had happened between the two of them, she had to go down there.
She didn’t want Emma to notice any tension either. Not this close to their opening night.
Lexi locked her office, then headed downstairs and out into the cooler air of the twilight. The bus pulled up, and this time when the door opened there was silence. Her troupe hopped off the bus looking shattered. Despite the deepening twilight, Kenzie was still wearing her sunnies.
‘Good weekend?’ Lexi asked, pulling Kenzie into a quick hug.
‘Depends what you mean by good.’ Kenzie laughed. ‘A grand total of four hours’ sleep, one dance party, two PlayStation battles, three six-hour days at the theatre, and the lumpiest bus seat I’ve ever sat on.’ She rubbed her rear. ‘Yeah, I guess it was okay.’
Lexi kept her arm around Kenzie’s shoulder. ‘You forgot about the seven million selfies, texts, messengers, pings and snapchats. Oh, and the ice-cream.’
‘Kids will be kids,’ Kenzie said. ‘The city kids all wanted fast food. Kudos to the country kids for realising that two five-litre tubs of vanilla ice-cream, a few bottles of chocolate sauce and some plastic cups and spoons from the supermarket worked out cheaper than each of them buying a sundae. Of course, then they had to finish ten litres of ice-cream. The boys soon sorted that out.’
‘Good old country ingenuity,’ Lexi agreed. ‘Everyone okay?’
‘Yeah. Emma missed her dad a bit. I don’t reckon she’s been away from him since she moved in with him, and she’s never been to an overnight camp before.’
Lexi worried her lip with her teeth. ‘I’ll check in on her before I go.’
‘Ta.’ Kenzie went over and grabbed her oversized bag. ‘Okay, I’m off. I haven’t got a si
ngle thing clean for work. Tomorrow is going to be a loooonnng day.’
Oh, if only Kenzie knew the half of it.
‘Night, Kenz. Thanks for going to camp with them. I really appreciate it.’ Lexi pulled her into another hug. ‘Now, home.’
Lexi watched her friend heft her bag into the back of her hatchback and head out. She turned to find Emma and Mark. Emma was standing next to her bag, yawning.
‘Emma, honey, you look tired. Let Dad take you home.’
‘I will.’ She yawned again, and Lexi had a vision of her wrapped in pink pyjamas, snuggled up in bed with a stuffed toy. ‘I told Dad we couldn’t go yet. I wanted to say thank you. I learned a lot and now I know why you talk about positions and directions and everything.’
‘That’s great.’ She touched Emma’s shoulder. ‘You’re going to do such a great job in our play now you know how it all comes together. But, for tonight, home and bed.’
‘Okay.’
Without warning, Emma launched into a huge hug. Lexi hugged her back, the warmth going a long way to dissolving the numbness she’d been living with all day. She raised her eyes to Mark. He watched silently, dissecting her with his gaze.
Lexi straightened. ‘Night, Emma. Night, Mark.’
‘Night, Lexi.’
Mark didn’t speak, just started wheeling Emma’s suitcase, guiding his daughter away. Lexi bit her lip as she watched them go.
Mark Conroy was not going to make her cry.
Not anymore.
She got busy, helping to check the bus for lost property and texting parents that hadn’t arrived for the pickup, but even so it wasn’t long before the car park was deserted.
Lexi checked her watch. Six o’clock.
Hours until she could reasonably expect to go to bed and fall asleep. She raised her eyes to the silhouette of the theatre against the deepening twilight and experienced a twinge of sadness.
