Page 32 of Secrets of Riverside

‘Bastard,’ she muttered as she tried to catch her breath.

‘I’m so sorry, Millie.’ Jarrah’s hand came to rest protectively upon her shoulder.

‘It’s not your fault, Jarrah.’ She turned to face him. ‘You and Tommy need to sort this out between the two of you. I don’t want any part of it.’

‘I know, you don’t deserve to be stuck in the middle of our drama.’ His gaze dropped to the floor. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of this mess, I promise.’

‘No need to make promises to me.’ She cleared the emotion from her tight throat. ‘I won’t be around long enough for it to affect me.’

His eyes found hers, and the waves of despondency in their profound blue deepened. ‘You’re not planning on staying around for long?’

‘It’s not likely I’ll be here any longer than a month, no.’ His evident sadness was breaking her in two. ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’ She was fighting to keep this relationship businesslike.

‘No, please, you don’t need to apologise.’ He nodded very slowly as he stepped away from her. ‘You’re a wayward wanderer with a free spirit.’ He paused, drew in a breath, as if waiting for a response. ‘Don’t worry, I get it, Millie, you blew in and you’ll blow away, it’s as simple as that. I was foolish to think otherwise.’

Blindsided by his skewed perception of her, and hurt by the look of scepticism now within his gaze, she wished she could blurt out the real reason she was here, and why she wouldn’t be here any longer than necessary, but she bit her tongue. Jarrah regarded her shrewdly, as if her silence confirmed whatever he was thinking, then he offered her a sad smile before disappearing in the same direction as Tommy had. Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she couldn’t believe she’d even considered telling him the real reason she was here. No matter how strong the urge to open her true self up to him had been, it was dangerous to even tread on such shaky ground.

Left with turbulent, tumbling emotions, she bit back a sob as she wrapped her arms around her middle. Poor Jarrah. He meant well, and he was a good, decent man, she was sure of it. The last thing she wanted was to hurt him. Then again, she didn’t want to leave here with a broken heart and none the wiser about her family’s deaths either. So she needed to be more careful with her feelings, and with her actions. Tommy wasn’t going to break her or chase her away from here. In the grand scheme of things, even if he’d been the one behind the letter, he was nothing to her. His opinion didn’t mean a thing. She didn’t need him in her corner. She just needed to discover what an eighteen-year-old short-tempered guy had to do with a past he hadn’t even been old enough to understand, let alone be involved in. Who did he know that had been involved in her family’s deaths? God, she hoped Jarrah’s hands were clean. She wasn’t sure how she was going to cope if she found out he’d played a hand in the night she’d lost everything that had mattered to her.

***

Swiping the paintbrush left to right while balanced on the top step of the ladder, Jarrah tried to focus on anything but the elephant that had been roaming Riverside Acres since his nephew had returned from his trip. He’d spent enough of his life trying to drag his brother out of trouble and danger, and now he felt as if he was doing that all over again with Tommy, when all he wanted was to settle into this peaceful life he’d built for both of them. But witnessing just how quickly his father’s grimy fingers had dug into Tommy’s innocence, and how easily Carlo Martino was turning his grandson in the wrong direction, Jarrah couldn’t help but wonder if he was dodging a bullet by trying to keep Tommy out of harm’s way, or taking one. He wished he could confront Tommy and hear the truth straight from the horse’s mouth, but lives were at stake if he went and did something so reckless. No, he needed to find another way to raise the subject, and hopefully, somehow, some way, talk sense into his nephew before it was too late.

Admitting defeat for the time being, he shook his head sadly as he fought the stab of uneasiness from his chest. Unanswerable questions plagued him. A sense of helplessness overwhelmed him. Was he fighting a losing battle? Was Tommy going to turn out exactly as Joey had been – stubborn, money-hungry, and quite often ruthless in getting what he wanted? Was it in his nephew’s blood to be corrupt? Had the toxicity of greed been bred into him from birth? And finally, could he really do this all over again, only to watch Tommy meet his own demise?

God forbid.

Grabbing hold of the handle on the paint tin, he carefully descended the ladder, plonked his tools down on the drop cloth, and then sat on an upturned drum to admire his handiwork. The lick of gleaming white paint had done wonders for the weather-beaten balustrades and gutters of the front of the homestead, but as much as he wanted to focus on how he’d finally got around to doing it, he couldn’t drag his mind from Tommy’s deceitfulness, or the way he’d treated Millie that morning, or Jenny and Penny the week before. For the very first time since becoming his nephew’s guardian, he was tempted to share with Tommy just how tough it had been, raising him when he, himself, had been so young, so inexperienced with children. And also how, when he was trying to make ends meet, he had gone without food so Tommy didn’t have to. But what was that going to achieve? He wasn’t a martyr, nor was he going to pull the poor-me card. He liked to believe he was better than using guilt to bribe Tommy into being the best version of himself. In his opinion, the true worth of a man was measured by the impact he had on others. If only Tommy could see this, and live by it.

Standing and doing his best to let go of his deliberations as he tidied up a little, he noticed two things concurrently. One, he had skipped breakfast and lunch so he was starving, and two, something smelled utterly delectable. Turning in a circle, he followed the mouth-watering aroma with his nose, and smiled when he worked out it was coming from the back of the homestead. Millie was clearly making use of the kitchen and he liked the thought of her tucked away inside, cooking to her heart’s content. His stomach growled in anticipation of a quick smoko break and he considered gatecrashing her culinary affair. Should he? Would she mind? The second coat of paint was about an hour away, so he had time. And he needed to eat before he passed out. But he wasn’t sure she’d want his company after what had gone down a few hours earlier.

As if sensing his master’s hesitancy, Scruff scooted in beside him and his tail smacked Jarrah’s leg with anticipation. ‘Does this mean you want to head inside for a break too, buddy?’

Scruff replied with a short sharp woof.

‘Righto then, that’s settled, let’s go see what Millie’s cooking, hey.’ Jarrah felt silly, but having Scruff at his side made him feel more comfortable about heading in.

After kicking his boots off at the front door, he moseyed down the hall and into the kitchen. ‘Hey, Millie, the house smells bloody amazing thanks to you.’ He wanted to keep the conversation light, happy. ‘What’s cooking?’

‘Oh, hey, Jarrah.’ Millie’s smiling face met him as she flicked the release valve on the pressure cooker and tossed a tea towel over her shoulder. ‘I was wondering when you’d be back for that lunch you missed out on,’ she said over the hissing of the steam being released. ‘You’d be ravenous, considering it’s almost three-thirty.’

‘Yeah, tell me about it, I started painting and lost track of time, but I’m pretty bloody hungry now.’ The unmistakable scent of corned beef filled the heart of the house, making his stomach dance with delight. And the KitchenAid mixer was plugged in, so she must have done some baking too. ‘So, what have you whipped up?’

‘I’ve made us corned beef, a fresh loaf of bread, and some of my mum’s famous Anzacs.’ Oven mitts now in hand, she plucked a tray of the legendary Aussie biscuits from the stove and placed it on the sink. ‘As always, when I let myself loose in the kitchen, I get a little bit carried away.’ She glanced over her shoulder, a playful grimace on her face. ‘I hope you don’t mind me helping myself to the ingredients?’

‘Of course not.’ Her presence was overwhelmingly comforting. Knowing she wasn’t going to be around much longer, he made sure to capture the sensation and store it away for when she was long gone. ‘I get to reap the rewards of your gastronomic cookfest, so it’s a win-win.’

‘Ha, yes, good call.’ Slicing the fresh loaf of bread, she then buttered four pieces. ‘Would you like one corned beef and salad sanga, or two?’

‘Two please.’ He watched her owning the kitchen from the other side of the centre island. ‘Can I do something to help?’

‘No thanks, you’ll just get in the way.’ Her grin was cheeky as she buttered another two slices.

‘Oi, fair play.’ Jarrah jumped at the chance to banter. ‘I’ll have you know that I’m a pretty good kitchen hand.’

‘Is that so?’ She offered him a light-hearted glance. ‘I’ll just take your word for it while you pull up a seat, sit your butt down, and take a well-earned rest.’

‘Well, okay then.’ He did as he was told, unable to stop his smile from spreading as she bustled about the kitchen like it was her own, and it suited her. Very much.

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