The House at the Bottom of the Hill (31 page)

What a mess she’d made of everything. Falling in love with Daniel was a heart-aching discovery, but she could deal with it, on her own and in her own time—no matter how long it took. Falling in love with Swallow’s Fall gave her a much greater complexity to handle, and one that needed to be addressed now.

She tapped the pencil in a furious motion on the hall table. Before the astounding conversation with Grandy, she’d signed the sale agreement and emailed it back. A cash sale meant a settlement date could be set as soon as all the documentation had been dealt with. The purchaser didn’t want an inspection, didn’t even want a cooling-off period. No need for all parties to meet up, the actual settlement would take five minutes in somebody’s office in Canberra. Take the cheque and hand the keys over. Wham—done deal.

She had to get in touch with this company now, today, in the next five minutes, and explain why she was not going through with the sale. To do less would leave her with one more guilt. She had enough shame on her shoulders not to right this wrong.

‘Right then, Miss Simmons,’ the realtor said. ‘You’re in charge.’

The realtor thought her mad and perhaps she was, but the heart of the town was at stake. She pulled her shoulders back and breathed deeply. There was only one thing she could do to make reparation for all the things she’d done wrong: take the house off the market and bequeath it to the town. Her parting gesture.

If Sammy was going to close the art and craft shop and turn it into a child-care centre, there’d be nowhere to show off the local skills of the townspeople—of which there were plenty. So they could have her pink house. Daniel, Ethan and Josh could refurbish it, knock down dividing walls and create a gallery. Whoever ran it could live in the upstairs rooms.

‘If you could give me the address and telephone number of the director of the company, I could call myself.’

‘Well …’

Charlotte heard the sounds of papers rustling.

‘Ah, here it is. Got at pen? Let me see …’

Come on! How hard could it be? Why hadn’t he just opened up his computer, hit a key and
found
the bloody information? Charlotte waited, pen poised.

‘The owner of Sentinel Renovations is Daniel Bradford.’

Shock punched its way from her brain to every part of her body, then surprise turned just as quickly to hurt, swamping all the memories of lying with Daniel. Of kissing Daniel’s mouth. Of laughing with him. Play-fighting, tickling, talking and falling in love with him.

Daniel had bought her house. Behind her back. How could he do this?
Why
would he do this?

This day—what had this day done to her? Had she deserved this torture, she asked herself, and the heavens, and anyone who was able to hear her innermost thoughts—had she deserved this struggle? She was only trying to find herself. She’d been given her answers but her quest had turned to heartbreak.

She replaced the telephone without speaking another word to the realtor and couldn’t find the energy to worry about her rudeness.

Thunder rumbled outside.

She turned to the hallway and ran a tear-stained gaze over the staircase, the flocked peonies on the wallpaper, the tatty hall carpet. All Daniel’s now. Daniel’s house. Daniel’s problem.

He could have it. She’d go through with the sale. It was all his. He could take it. And she would leave.

Dan left his car parked outside Kookaburra’s and headed for the B&B, an intensity inside him so strong his heart ached.

He quickened his pace, rain pelting over his head and shoulders, drenching him.

‘Hey, Dan, where you going looking so charged up?’

Dan glanced over his shoulder and threw a wave to the Tillman twins, who were standing outside their father’s store, huddled under one purple umbrella. Dan focussed on the expanse of lawn outside the house at the bottom of the hill, the shingle pathway to the veranda, and the cherry-red front door. Same shade as Charlotte’s fingernails. Same red as her lipstick from last night. Same colour as his heart: bright red and bleeding.

‘Charlotte!’

The door flew open and there she stood, behind the flyscreen. ‘What have you done?’ she demanded, her features a blend of disbelief and wrath.

Dan stepped back.

‘You bought my house.’ She held herself straight and tall, her slender shoulders angled slightly, matching the challenging tilt of her chin. ‘You bought my house,’ she repeated.

Jesus, how had she learned that so quickly? And here they were, bickering again. ‘You put it up for sale,’ he said, hopelessness about how to untangle the knot of deception swirling inside him. ‘Were you going to tell me?’

She yanked the flyscreen open, stepped onto the veranda and poked him in the chest. He tried to take hold of her hand but it was gone from his body as fast as it had struck him.

‘How did you find out it was for sale?’

He’d known he’d have to tell her, but her fury stalled his thoughts. ‘Small town, Red.’ He gave her a smile.

‘Don’t call me Red.’ Thunder cracked above them. ‘Who else knows?’

Dan took a breath. ‘Nobody.’

‘You went behind my back.’

‘You put it up for sale behind
my
back. Were you going to tell me?’

‘No.’ The rain pounded the tin roof of the house and the metal awning, almost drowning out her softly spoken response. But Dan could lip-read the one syllable, and he could read her thoroughly. She was off-kilter, unsure of what was happening but he could make it better for her.

‘Come on, Charlotte. Let’s take a second, shall we?’ He’d been breathless all night at the thought of her leaving. Hearing her admit she was going released the apprehension in his chest. He stepped forwards and held his hand out. ‘Come here, would you? I want to hold you.’

She didn’t step back but neither did she move to him. ‘Why did you buy my house?’

‘You didn’t want it.’

‘How did you know I didn’t want it?’

‘I know.’ He swallowed. ‘About you … why you’re here. The little girl. Your mother.’

She gasped, her skin paling. ‘You spoke to Ethan?’

‘He wouldn’t tell me anything. He said I had to talk to you.’

‘You promised me you wouldn’t speak to Ethan. You promised me!’

‘Charlotte, sweetheart, I’ve got a real big thing about you—you must have guessed that last night. Of course I wanted to know more about you and I want to know the whole story.’

‘And how did you find the scent of this story?’

Dan paused and considered his answer. He ran a hand over his wet head, then wiped it on his jeans. There’d been enough deceit between them. ‘I researched you. On the internet.’

‘Oh, God.’ She covered her face with her hands, her shoulders sinking, as though she wanted to hide from the world.

It didn’t look like she was crying, she was breathing deeply, maybe trying to get herself together. She dropped her hands and looked him in the eye. ‘Does everyone know?’ Her eyes were veiled with uncertainty, or maybe total despair.

Christ—this wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. ‘No—I don’t think so, but some of them recognise you …’

Stubbornness appeared in the way she straightened her shoulders. ‘You went behind my back.’

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but you didn’t want the house.’ She couldn’t deny that, surely?

‘And you do?’

Dan shook his head. ‘I bought it so I could—’

‘So you wouldn’t have to fight for business when you turn Kookaburra’s into a full-blown hotel.’

How long had she known? What was this making him look like? A total idiot. Dan looked over his shoulder. Half-a-dozen people stood in the street. Unfortunately, the important half-dozen. The Tillmans, Mrs Tam, Mrs J—the ones he’d lied to. ‘Can we take this inside?’

‘It’s not your house yet.’

‘I have serious plans, Charlotte. The hotel would give people work. It would bring in revenue for the town, not just me.’

‘I could do it, you know. I could make this B&B work.’

‘I know that. I want to help.’

‘Even with your hotel up and running, I could make it work.’

‘So make it work. Let’s make it work together.’

‘Together? You just bought my house!’

‘You sold it!’

Dan spun around in frustration and found half the shopkeepers on Main Street staring at the B&B. He turned back to his girl and moved closer to her. ‘I want to be with you, Charlotte.’ Lightning struck high in the sky. ‘Up front, honest and square. I want everyone to know you’re my girl.’

‘Honest?’ she asked, her expression tight with incredulity. ‘So why did you lie?’

That wasn’t fair. They’d both lied. From the start. ‘Why did
you
?’

‘Getting a bit heated out here, ain’t it?’ Grandy said as he pushed through the flyscreen.

Dan faced Grandy. ‘I can explain,’ he said. This wasn’t about Dan, it was about Charlotte. It wasn’t about arguing, it was about wanting to make her feel secure. Wanting to be with her. Forever. ‘Can we take her inside?’ he asked Grandy.

‘She’s had a difficult time, Dan.’

‘I’m trying to help her.’ Her distress sucked the guts out of him. ‘Charlotte, come here now.’ He held his arms out to her but she backed from him.

‘I’m afraid I might have punched a hole in her world this morning by giving her the answers,’ Grandy said.

‘Answers to what?’ Dan asked, then turned to Charlotte. ‘I want to know why you’re here. It’s got something to do with O’Donnell and with Ethan. I know that much.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re wrong. And I was wrong. It has nothing to do with Ethan. Thomas O’Donnell killed my mother. I thought Ethan was his son, and my brother. I thought O’Donnell was my father but he wasn’t—he wasn’t Ethan’s father either.’

‘Afraid I’m going to have to interrupt here,’ Grandy said, his voice thick, like he’d swallowed gravel.

Dan’s attention spun to the old man. One look at the pale, stricken features and he leaped forwards to take hold of Grandy. ‘Charlotte—quick.’ She was already at his side, holding Grandy’s arm and bracing his tall body against her own slight one.

The old man stumbled backwards. ‘Need to see Junior.’

Dan put his arms around Grandy. ‘Get the phone,’ he told Charlotte.

She dashed inside, picked up the telephone, thumbed through a little book on the hall table and dialled.

‘Call … Ethan,’ Grandy said, the words punctured with a grunt.

‘We’re calling the air ambulance.’

Grandy looked into Dan’s eyes. ‘Happening a bit sooner … than I thought.’

‘I’ve got you.’

‘Just as well. Don’t think I can stand.’

Grandy collapsed into Dan’s arms, the jolt of a sudden pain etched on his face. Dan lay him on the floor, checked that Grandy’s airway was clear and then put him into the recovery position as Charlotte’s troubled voice punctured the air.

‘This is Charlotte Simmons, Lot 183, Swallow’s Fall. We need the air ambulance. A resident is having a heart attack.’

W
hy did a hospital hold such a clinical hush within its walls? As though antiseptic and systematic care from experienced strangers could settle the stress and frantic worry of those who stood by, watching and breathing. Loving. Hoping.

The air ambulance had transported Grandy and Charlotte to the hospital in Cooma. Daniel had waited at the B&B, getting hold of Ethan, Julia and eventually Junior.

Ethan had driven to Cooma with Sammy. Junior arrived three hours ago, having been in Canberra for the night, overseeing something at the Morelly storehouse. While they worked on Grandy, Charlotte had left the hospital waiting room and wandered the corridors between the cafeteria and the gift shop, giving Junior and Ethan time to talk. What they’d spoken of, Charlotte didn’t know, but it appeared the truth about Ethan’s parentage had been told because when Charlotte returned to the waiting room, Sammy, looking strained, had stuck to Ethan’s side and Junior had looked stunned.

When Junior Morelly gave them the news mere seconds ago the light seemed to seep from the brightly lit, sterile waiting room. Charlotte closed her eyes as the darkness descended in her mind and behind her eyelids.

‘They’ll let us see him now,’ Junior said.

There were only the three of them now. Sammy had gone into labour forty minutes ago and had been taken by a nurse to the maternity wing where she was being monitored. Ethan had accompanied her, but had come back to the coronary care unit when Charlotte went in search of him to let him know the doctor wished to speak to Junior, and that Junior wanted Ethan with him.

‘You must go in too, Charlotte.’ Charlotte forced her eyes open and glanced at the two men standing in the space, looking like lost warriors. She shook her head at Ethan. ‘I’ve caused everyone too much pain already, if I hadn’t …’

‘This is not your fault.’ Ethan took her arm. ‘It’s not your fault.’

‘It’s alright, Charlotte,’ Junior Morelly said. ‘My father took the time to talk to you … to tell you so much. And he knew his time was close. Please come in.’

Charlotte hesitated but walked towards Junior when he held a hand out for her, wanting very much to say her goodbyes to the man who had been not only her unexpected guest, but her saviour.

‘He wouldn’t have got here without you,’ Junior said as he took her hand and led her into the care unit where Grandy lay. ‘And Ethan and I wouldn’t have been given the chance to speak to him, if it wasn’t for you.’

This was the first time his family had been allowed to see him since Grandy had suffered a second heart attack, and Charlotte felt like an outsider. She looked up at Ethan, who stood apart, waiting. ‘Are you coming in?’

Ethan glanced at Junior for acceptance. Junior nodded. ‘Of course he is.’

They moved into the unit, Charlotte trying to ignore the busyness around them as nurses and doctors tended those still living.

‘They said he rallied,’ Junior told Ethan as they walked into the curtained-off area. ‘Enough to tell them he didn’t want any more help.’

Charlotte shuddered.

Junior stood on one side of his father’s bed and indicated that Ethan should move to the other side. Charlotte closed the curtain behind her to give the space some privacy.