Luciana
There is much I wish to tell you and very little time to do it in. I have left you everything in my possession, and I hope it serves you well.
Find my journal. It will tell you all you need to know.
Remember the story of the girl who drank the poisoned iced tea.
Dad
I stare at this incredulously. I haven’t spoken to him in years, and this is what he leaves me? A property in Australia, a cryptic note and a riddle?
I’m half tempted to rip it up and chuck the whole thing in the bin.
But…
The timing couldn’t be better, I have to admit. I need somewhere to go, and I don’t want to return to Brazil right now. I need to get away from everything; from my home, from my job, from memories of David. Maybe taking a look at this property and focusing on that would be a welcome distraction.
I look down at the letter again. Mundaring, huh? I remember when my father moved out there and forwarded his address to me. But I’ve never seen the place. I know he has a few acres and a farm. At the very least, preparing his property for sale will give me something to do.
I draw in a deep breath and exhale slowly.
Looks like I’m off to Australia.
* * *
It takes several days for me to organize travel. My superiors extract me from Burkina Faso as quickly as possible, and I rattle around my empty home, packing and booking tickets, and speaking to the solicitors of my father’s will.
Yet it feels like no time at all before my car pulls up at a small gate. Further ahead on the property, I can see a large, darkened house. So this is my inheritance.
“Thanks,” I say, paying the cab driver.
“No problem,” the man says with a grin. “Look after yourself out here.”
Slightly bemused, I help him unload my things and watch him leave. Then I look around.
It’s not much, I have to admit, but I knew it was a small town. There’s currently only around three thousand people here, and most of the area is surrounded by bush and creek. I just hadn’t been prepared for how quiet it was at six in the evening. It’s certainly different from Manaus, where David and I lived together.
I load up with all my bags, staggering under the weight but unwilling to make two trips considering how long the driveway is, and make my way. Over the road, I can see lights on at the house, and I wonder who my neighbors are.
Not that it should matter, I remind myself. I won’t be here long enough to care, if I can help it.
The house is impressively large, especially considering my father lived here alone. But that isn’t my focus. I’ve spent the entire journey trying to puzzle out my father’s riddle, and a memory had finally hit me as I was on the plane.
I remember sitting beside my father, leaning on his knee, listening to him tell me the story of two girls, who drank from the same pitcher of iced tea, yet one had died of poison and the other had not. I couldn’t figure out the answer, and my father had laughed at my frustration.
“What does ice do, Luciana?”he had asked gently.
“It melts,”I had answered promptly, fascinated.
“Exactly,” he had replied warmly. “So, if the poison was in the ice…”
“The poison would get in the drink!”I had cheered.
“Exactly. That’s the thing with poisons, Luciana. Mysterious and deadly, they often hide in plain sight, waiting for someone to shine light on them so that a cure can be made. A poison is like hiding a tree in a forest or a book in a library…”
Shaking the memory away, unwilling to dwell on my shared love of poisons with my father, I stride through the house. Eventually, I find what I’m looking for, a large bookshelf filled to the brim with books on all sorts of creatures, oddly enough. It’s easy to spot the journal, since it’s sticking out, almost as though it was waiting for me.
These are the last words my father will give me. I hesitate for a moment and then grasp it, pulling it free, and flip to the first page, a scribbled note addressed to me.
Luciana,
I hope you will understand. Read carefully and take heart in your own strength, my daughter. I love you.
Look after the animals. They are all very special.
Dad
I stare at the page blankly. Animals? There are animals here? I close my eyes.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come, after all.