The Maxwell Sisters (24 page)

‘I was there, Heath. I heard what the obstetrician said. And telling me again and again and again doesn't make me feel any better.'

‘Well, it should!'

She was surprised as his voice suddenly rose in volume and passion. ‘Our baby's death was not your fault. It wasn't my fault either. It was just not meant to be. It was God's will.'

Her voice shook. ‘Heath, chromosomal abnormalities don't just occur without reason.'

‘As a matter of fact they do,' he said crossly. ‘And the doctor told us that explicitly, Tash. Nobody knows how or why they occur, they just do. That's it, Tash, that's it. There was nothing you or I could have done differently that would have caused our baby to live.'

‘But –'

‘For goodness sake, just listen to me for once in your life and stop holding on so tightly to this belief that you can
control everything
.'

These words made her stop, blink and gasp at the sudden moisture collecting in her eyes. It was an echo of the conversation she'd had with her father only that morning. Was she really such a control freak? Did she really believe that she had power over everything? She stood up, as though doing so could help her get away from the question.

‘Let it go,' he whispered, also standing. ‘Set it free, for your own sake. For mine too.'

Looking up into his eyes, she was surprised to see them shining.

Have I brought him to tears?

As he held her gaze she was unable to look away. It was perhaps the first emotional connection they'd had in a very long time. Could it be that he was right? That she had taken too much upon herself? She felt a release so powerful it almost floored her. Her knees wobbled dangerously and suddenly Heath was there, catching her under her elbows.

‘Just breathe,' he whispered.

She sucked in a deep breath and looked up into his face, alarmingly close to hers. But she didn't care. Her shoulders were lighter. Her heart seemed to expand in her chest as though it suddenly had more oxygen. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks. With the heaviness of her guilt gone, she had to wonder at the effect of that burden. Had it coloured her interactions with Heath? Regret made her legs want to buckle again.

‘You're okay,' Heath said softly, lifting one hand to cradle her face. ‘You're okay, Tash.'

And then he bent his head and touched her lips with his own.

There was magic in that kiss.

She put her hands up to his face, to ground herself. Guiding his mouth as much as he was guiding hers.

It had been far too long. Her skin tingled. Her hair stood on end. She felt like she was floating away.

‘I'm sorry.' He lifted his head with a growl. ‘This isn't going to cut it for me.'

And then suddenly they were heading for the door – her hand tucked firmly in his. He flung it open like a man possessed and tugged her down the hall. A turn right, a turn left and they were standing in front of their bedroom door.

‘Heath!'

He opened the door, swung her inside and shoved it closed with his foot. His lips were reconnecting with hers before he finished doing so. He pulled her t-shirt up and over her head. She neither saw nor heard where it dropped as he backed her towards the bed. He unclipped her bra and it fell from her body. Her own hands were at the fly of her jeans, unclasping and unzipping. She pushed them down as one with her knickers over her hips. The backs of her knees hit the bed and she fell onto the soft doona. His strong hands, warm against her skin, pushed her jeans down the rest of the way and off her feet. And then suddenly there she was, naked before him as he stood at the edge of the bed taking her in. His gaze raked every curve and every hollow, making goosebumps rise on her flesh and her heart pound so madly she felt like it was in her throat, choking her. Was this the right thing to do? Doubt seized her and self-consciously she drew her legs up to cover her sex.

‘Heath, I don't know about this.'

His gaze grew shuttered and his body stiffened. ‘What is it, Tash? More guilt. Aren't we done with that?'

She threw up her hands helplessly, a whole host of emotions desperately fighting for attention. ‘Can I trust you again? Can I trust you not to hurt me?'

He sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘I don't want to hurt you, Tash. I never wanted to hurt you.'

‘So why torture us with these games?'

His eyes widened. ‘This is not a game.'

Her laugh was bitter. ‘Heath, I know you. And I know how you operate. You're playing for something. I know you are.'

He smiled then, a crooked twist, laced with both sadness and longing. ‘I'm playing for you, Tash. And I'm hoping to win.'

He leaned forward, cupping her face to kiss her again, instantly taking away the protest that rose to her lips. He rolled her naked body into his fully clothed one as he kissed her. His jeans-clad leg entwined with hers, rough against her skin but safe in their covered state. She had forgotten what it was like to be completely enveloped by this man. His hand went into her hair, caressed that place on her neck he loved so much and down her back, pausing to feather the base of her spine before his fingers curved under her bottom, hiking her further up his body so that her breasts grazed his shirt.

He lifted his head. ‘You're so beautiful.' His fingers caressed the hollow above her hip. ‘I've missed you so much. I want to be with you. Please don't deny us this.'

And as she looked into his eyes, warm and brown, she realised how much she had missed him too. When he'd left, a void had opened in her. And she hadn't been able to fill it with anything. Not pep-talks, or visits to her psychologist or strategic goal-setting, which made her feel like she had a handle on things but brought her no peace. She needed him. Without him, all she felt was parched.

Tentatively, she put up a hand to trace the contours of his face. The soft brush of his eyebrows, the angular jut of his cheekbone, the hard line of his mouth.

‘I've missed you too.'

And there was a truth in that which she needed to face, which she hadn't wanted to look at too closely since he'd first walked back into her life. She'd made a mistake telling him that she didn't love him any more. Because however much he hurt her, however much the pain of his indifference cut, it hadn't taken away those feelings – it'd just buried them. Now, with her grief-goggles finally off, she was able to see how much she'd tried to hide from her emotions instead of facing them.

She stilled as he lowered his lips to press a kiss to her shoulder, to her collarbone and then to her breast. She gasped and arched in his arms. Liquid fire burned through her body. Her hands went into his hair, pulling at strands as she writhed beneath the gentle nuzzling of his mouth. She found his shoulders and frustratingly his shirt. Her yearning doubled as she realised that he was holding back, giving her the choice to end this now before things got out of hand.

What a joke! As though they could get further out of hand. She wanted him. She loved him. And yes, there was that risk of being hurt again. Of giving it all and getting nothing in return. Like leaping off the side of a cliff with a faulty parachute. But it was too late. Her body had already jumped.

She plucked frantically at the buttons on his shirt, moaned in relief as he helped her yank it off. His pants, too, a few seconds later. And then he lowered his body over hers.

Skin against skin.

The intimacy of first touch was so startling, she cried out with the thrill of it – wrapping herself around him in wild abandonment. He shuddered as he took her mouth, an aching vulnerability present in a kiss so tender it stole her breath away. They took their time touching and tasting each other. Exploring each other's bodies as though it was the first time … or the last.

It was like being granted a little slice of heaven, a moment in time, so precious because it was perfect – untouched by all the hurt and confusion they had created in the real world.

When he finally entered her, her body welcomed him, trembling with the joy of it. He pulled back on his elbows to look into her eyes, brushing the hair from her face.

‘There is nothing in this world that I wouldn't do for you.'

She gasped as he began to move but the sound was lost as his mouth crushed hers again. Her arms came up over his shoulders, holding him to her, so he wouldn't stop kissing her as he pushed her to the brink.

They held on to each other tighter and more desperately until they both convulsed in pleasure.

Coming down from that high was like a feather floating from a tall tree back to earth. Tash knew the moment she hit ground again because her body stiffened and her eyes flew open, taking in the curtain gently billowing across the room. They'd left the light on so the room was starkly bright and, in her opinion, all too revealing.

His face was still pressed into her neck, her legs still wrapped firmly around his waist. She cringed in embarrassment as his mouth curved against her neck.

‘You're so predictable, Tash.' He sat up, peeling himself off her carefully. ‘Already worried about the consequences of your actions.'

Shouldn't I be?

She'd just realised she was still in love with a man who had cut her off emotionally since their daughter had died. She was worried that he may hurt her again.

Restarting physical intimacy when they were both still trying to connect mentally was a distraction from the real problem. She didn't want a closed-book marriage any more. She didn't want to be afraid to talk to him about anything.

A sheen of sweat glistened on his glorious chest. She pulled the covers from the bed over her naked body.

‘Don't worry,' he sighed. ‘I'm not about to suggest I move back home again because of this.'

She glanced up quickly. ‘You're not?' She was strangely disappointed by his certainty.

‘We've hurt each other too much already to be rushing into anything.'

She pounced on this because it had echoed her own fears so completely. ‘So what's your plan then?'

He laughed and she immediately blushed. ‘Tash, I haven't got a plan. Stop trying to make me the guy with the agenda. I'm just as thrown by this as you are.'

She glanced at him shyly. ‘So you weren't expecting to make love tonight?'

He snorted in a manner that was actually not unattractive. Particularly the way his large shoulders jumped appealingly with self-mockery. ‘The way things have been going between us? Er … no.'

‘But you wanted to.'

He eyeballed her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. ‘Of course I wanted to. You're a gorgeous woman, Tash, and my wife. I've always been addicted to you. It's you who hasn't wanted me.'

‘Well, that's rubbish.' She rolled her eyes.

He was silent for a moment, as though wondering whether it was safe to move into slightly dangerous waters. ‘After we lost the baby, you didn't want a bar of me.'

Her eyes widened. ‘That's different. Sex back then just reminded me of the baby and all that trying we went through to conceive. It just seemed wrong and futile. Making love made me uncomfortable, but it was nothing to do with my feelings for you.'

He shook his head, rubbing his temple as he did so and said on a sigh, ‘I thought you didn't want me to comfort you. Because that's what it was for me, Tash. Comfort and connection. A gateway to you.'

She swallowed hard. ‘I'm sorry I didn't think of that. I was hurting, Heath.'

‘So was I,' he responded. ‘You keep saying that I shut you out. But you shut me out just as much.'

He stood up then, reaching down and pulling on his jeans. She clutched the bedclothes to herself, eyeing him uncertainly.

‘So do you blame me for the demise of our relationship?' She studied him, her own guilt warring with the anger rising in her chest. She clutched the bedclothes tighter, already trying to protect her heart from him.

He seemed defeated. ‘Why is it always about blame with you?'

‘Sorry,' she whispered. ‘I'm still very raw from everything that's happened. I don't know what to think.'

He tugged on the hand that was holding the blankets up to her chin and drew it between his own palms. ‘I don't think our separation was your fault, but I don't think it was my fault either. I think we both had our part to play in it. We were two people who had something terrible happen to them and we just got lost, Tash. We got lost.'

Her hand was cradled in his, their gazes locked.

Her breath caught. ‘So what do we do now?'

He squeezed her hand before letting it go. ‘We try to find each other again. That's what we do.'

In all her strategising to get her family back together, there was one person Phoebe had forgotten to take into account. Probably the most important person of all.

What she had done to Spider had been unfair to him and insensitive. This was their wedding, for goodness sake.

What was I thinking?
Of course she knew the answer to that. She'd been thinking about her father and the terrible secret she kept for him. But was it right to continue to do so when it was causing Spider so much pain? She had tried to explain what little she could to him on the phone that afternoon outside the Wildwood Bakery. ‘I'm sorry for making you feel this way. It wasn't my intention. Of course this is
our
moment, not my family's.'

‘Then why do I feel like it's their moment?'

She sighed. ‘Because I'm worried about my father. He's going through something right now, Spider, and I made a promise to him.'

There was a pause. ‘What sort of promise?'

‘That I would help him bring the family back together, to put an end to all the unpleasantness and the tension. It was wrong of me to suggest we use our wedding to do it. I didn't realise I'd let things get so out of hand.'

She heard him sigh on the other end of the line. ‘Phee, you know I love you. You know I want your family to get along, right? But that's not our responsibility.'

‘I get that,' she agreed. ‘But if that's what you really think then why didn't you just say so earlier?'

There was a hesitant note in his voice when he spoke next. ‘I thought what you really wanted was to end the tension between me and your father. And that was why you wanted a wedding at home, to get the two of us closer together.'

Her brow wrinkled. ‘I don't
not
want that.'

‘But it's not your number one priority, is it?' he said sadly. ‘Your number one priority is your sisters and your father and your mother and whatever the hell it is they want.'

‘My family is important to me.'

‘And me? Am I important to you?'

‘Of course you are. Would I be marrying you if you weren't? I love you, Spider, and I do want you to get along with my dad. But I think you're overestimating the tension between you both.'

Another sigh. ‘Phee, he hates my guts.'

‘No, he doesn't.'

‘I'm telling you, he
hates
me.'

Her shoulders stiffened. ‘I know sometimes he's a little rude to you. But it's just an old man being cranky. I don't think it's personal.'

‘It's definitely personal.' Spider's voice came through on the phone harder than she'd ever heard it before. He'd always been such a laidback person – much like Eve in a lot of ways. It was no wonder they got along so well. He hated fighting and steered away from it when he could. Had this avoidance camouflaged something deeper that she hadn't noticed was going on until now?

His voice came through low and raspy. ‘We've glossed over this issue way too many times, Phee, pretending that it's not real. But I think it's time we spoke about it.'

‘But I can't fathom it,' she protested. ‘Why would he hate you? He hardly ever speaks to you. Last year we didn't spend much time at my parents' place.'

‘Why do you think that was, Phee?'

‘I don't know,' she shrugged. ‘Because I'm a bad daughter and I was too wrapped up in my own life?'

He snorted. ‘Your father doesn't think the fire in the restaurant was an accident. He thinks I lit it. He thinks I'm the reason Eve left town and won't cook at Tawny Brooks any more.'

‘What?' She clutched the phone tighter. ‘That's insane. Why would you believe something like that?'

‘Because he told me so.'

‘Oh.' She could hardly refute that statement. ‘
Okay
. But,' she searched for a different angle, a different possibility and sighed with relief when one presented itself, ‘it's a known fact that the fire started from candles. Eve blames herself.'

Spider released a breath. ‘And Eve blaming herself only puts more crosses next to my name.'

‘Why am I only hearing about all this now?'

‘Because I didn't want you to worry. Because I wanted to try to fix the problem myself,' Spider said in a rush. ‘Because I thought I could build bridges with your dad without you involved. You know, bond with him.' There was a groan in his voice. ‘But he's definitely having none of it.'

She was getting cross at her father now. He could be excused for being protective of his daughters but this was beyond reasonable. ‘I don't understand his logic. How could you have started the fire? It's preposterous.'

‘The point is … you believe me, right? I didn't light any fire.'

‘Of course I believe you.'

The relief on the other end of the phone was palpable. ‘To be honest, I was half afraid you might side with your family again on this one.'

‘Spider,' tears smarted in her eyes, ‘I know it's been a rough couple of days. Just as rough for me.' She reached into her pocket and scrunched up the note she'd found in the tea jar into a ball. ‘But I love you. I believe in you. And I want to marry you. We'll find a way to get through this.
You and me
.'

‘Come home, will you?' His voice was gentle. ‘I just want to hold you.'

‘You don't need to ask twice.' She'd hung up then and returned to her sisters, who actually seemed rather subdued sitting together on the grass. In any event, they were not in the least bit dubious when she told them that she thought Spider was not having an affair and it had all been a big misunderstanding. In fact, they both encouraged her to have faith in her fiancé and everything would be okay.

But was faith enough?

There was so much she'd learned about herself and her own life recently and the secrets people covered up to protect her or to protect themselves. It seemed every time she thought she was getting somewhere, another can of worms appeared on the bench. All she ever wanted was for everyone to get along. Her father had given her such a terrible burden, and now it seemed he'd just added to it. Why on earth did he feel that Spider would do something so vindictive to Eve? They were such good friends. It was a friendship she'd often been jealous of. Eve was beautiful, smart and loyal.
And
she had so much in common with Spider. How many times had she wondered why it was herself that Spider was so attracted to and not her sister?

When she got home, her sisters disappeared to their bedrooms and she pulled the balled-up note from her pocket and gently unfolded it. There were other women out there who she needed to worry about, not Eve. This note was proof of that. How it got in the tea jar and how long it had been there still troubled her.

Does it really matter, Phoebe?
Spider had not been meeting anyone at the Wildwood Bakery today. And if this letter was old, then it was old news and perhaps he'd never seen it.

She folded the note and put it back into her pocket, just as Spider entered the room.

‘Hey, where've you been? I've been waiting for you.'

She stood there stiffly as he came over and enveloped her in a hug. Her body relaxed as she breathed in his unique scent and felt the warm pressure of his embrace.

He pulled out a little, gently kissing her lips before saying, ‘I'm glad we had that talk this afternoon. I feel like we understand each other a little better.'

‘Me too.' She put her hands on either side of his face. ‘And I'm sorry about everything. Believe me, I don't want you to feel left out of your own wedding.'

‘Thanks,' he smiled, ‘and I promise I'll try to be more supportive of your family reconstruction.' He grimaced. ‘Though it might help if I knew what was going on with your dad.'

‘It's not my secret to tell.'

‘Phee, we're going to be married pretty soon. And if you can't trust me, then who can you trust?'

He brushed her hairline with his fingertips as he voiced her concern.

Could she trust him? When she had a note from his potential lover sitting in her pocket?

‘I had a terrible run-in with your father today,' he added as she was still thinking. ‘I seem to be only making our relationship worse.'

‘What do you mean?'

He explained in detail how he had tried to give her father a set of right-handed golf clubs. ‘Why didn't you tell me he was a lefty?' he demanded in the end.

‘I didn't realise it was something important you needed to know,' she protested. ‘It's certainly not a big secret or anything.'

Spider's face turned pensive. ‘Well, apparently everything else is.'

Of course, that was when Patricia had walked in, all smiles and suggestions, wanting them to go to Aravina's that night.

‘I just feel like I haven't had you two all to myself yet,' she complained. ‘With everything that's been going on, we just haven't had a chance to catch up.'

Phoebe could tell Spider wasn't entirely pleased about his mother's arrival, or the convenient way Phoebe used it to avoid the conversation he'd started.

As it turned out, dinner with the in-laws at Aravina Estate was almost as much of a nightmare as dinner with the whole family the night before. Not because Aravina didn't have one of the prettiest restaurants in the South-West. It did. Set in a stately white manor rimmed by a traditional verandah overlooking a garden to rival her mother's, the ambience was all she could have asked for. The food was great too. But honestly, it was like stepping out with a football team who knew you were supporting the other side.

Patricia seemed to be on a mission to condemn everything Phoebe's mother did. It was the positive remarks with the backhanded slap that kept Phoebe's hackles up almost the entire night.

‘It's so nice to be eating dinner a little later. I just wasn't that hungry yesterday at six o'clock. Particularly with all the junk food we had beforehand.'

And, ‘Your mother is such a wonderful cook, my dear. I don't know why she didn't make something of her life like your sister Eve did.'

Spider was particularly moody, no doubt because of their earlier truncated conversation. She was beginning to wonder whether she could do anything right.

When she woke up the next day, she tried to view it as a fresh start. A new beginning where everything got sorted out. After getting dressed, she entered the kitchen where her family and Spider's were all gathered to start the day. Over breakfast they decided that the men would continue with the restaurant renovations and the women would get moving on the wedding front.

Basically, her wedding-chore lottery was abandoned in favour of this simpler division of labour. She could tell some people were extremely relieved, particularly Spider and Heath, who had been tasked with organising the decorations and the photographer respectively. Spider was also glad to be letting his partner, Adam, off the hook.

‘There's nothing more emasculating,' he said to her, ‘than sitting around with another man and talking about chair sashes.
Especially
with a guy like Adam.'

‘What's wrong with Adam?' Anita enquired tartly.

‘Nothing,' Spider amended rather quickly. ‘He's just not into pink satin.'

‘Are we going with pink for the dining chairs?' Anita asked the gathered group at large. ‘I thought you girls wanted to wear blue.'

‘The chair sashes are supposed to match the bridesmaid dresses,' Phoebe informed Spider.

‘Oh,' he shrugged. ‘Well, I didn't know that. And I suspect neither did Adam, though I can't be positive because he's brushed me off several times when I've tried to engage him.'

Tash grinned. ‘You've tried to engage him several times?'

‘Call me paranoid,' Spider groaned, ‘but I don't think he's interested. In fact, I don't think he likes me either.'

Phoebe scoffed. ‘Now you're definitely being paranoid.'

‘No,' Spider shook his head slowly. ‘The guy definitely has a problem with me.'

‘Eve,' Phoebe leaned across the table to try to get the attention of the sister who was keeping her head so far down it was nearly under the table, ‘you talk to him the most. Does Adam have a problem with Spider?'

Eve cleared her throat. ‘Not that I know of.'

‘There you go,' Phoebe smiled. ‘All in your imagination. Anyway, I think this division of labour is a little more sensible.'

It was also putting a smile on Spider's face again. So who was she to knock it? All she wanted was ‘happy' going forward. No more drama. Tash and Eve left for town soon after breakfast. Tash, in fact, appeared very keen to get out the door that morning. She seemed nervous at breakfast, constantly glancing out the window. Heath seemed to find his wife's attitude amusing, lacing his fingers through the hand resting on the tabletop.

‘Calm down, Tash,' he'd smiled. ‘Rome wasn't built in a day.'

She'd glared at him as she snatched her hand away. ‘You better bloody believe it.' Tash wanted to hit Busselton for dresses and also talk to a couple of DJs she and Eve had lined up who lived in the area. It seemed like a good plan to Phoebe and Eve as well. Her younger sister seemed more wedding-focused that morning too. She had asked Phoebe about the cake.

‘So did you have any ideas about what you might like?'

‘I don't know.' Phoebe quickly glanced at Spider, now very conscious of her obligation to be wholly inclusive. ‘What do you reckon, love?'

He looked up from his bowl of Weet-Bix, a slight smile playing on his lips. ‘I know for a fact that Eve makes a gorgeous fruit cake.'

Eve's cheeks coloured faintly as she dipped her head again in modesty.

A sudden undeniable flush of jealousy washed through Phoebe's body, surprising her with its potency. Although she knew she was being irrational, she couldn't help but retort somewhat irritably, ‘But fruit cake is so dime-a-dozen, isn't it? A bit boring, don't you think?'