It was nearing eight pm when Roberta finally left, leaving Liz and Connor to get some much-needed sleep to recover from jetlag.
It felt good to talk, to unburden herself. Starting from the day her mother dropped her bombshell, her growing attraction to Nate, the rejection from her newly discovered grandparents only yesterday and finishing with the mysterious woman who’d turned up at the teahouse for the birthday gathering.
Roberta held nothing back. They all wanted to know if she was feeling better after. Hmm. She tapped the steering wheel, still uncertain if she was. Too much too soon. She almost craved boring and predictable.
Mixed with tears, hugs and lots of coffee, Roberta expressed her confusion and guilt over her mother’s secret. That her mum kept it from the dad who’d raised her made her question many things. Why reveal it now when she’d never get to meet her biological father? As for her mean-spirited grandparents, who needed them?
Connor’s occasional quip made her laugh or cry, alternatively, throughout the afternoon until they all pitched in and prepared a simple dinner of pesto pasta and salad.
“And no sex with Nate yet?”
Roberta had chuckled over Connor’s question. As much as she was the no-filters chick, they all groaned whenever she was telling them too much. Connor, in his unique way, had a knack for asking the hard questions or the sensible ones. It depended on whether you were in the firing line or not. She had yet to decide, but he had a point. Sex usually determined if it left her with a glow of love or a big black hole of nothing.
They all knew she wasn’t the blessed virgin, indulging in sex before, purely for the enjoyment of it. She believed for a short time she had experienced that glow with Antonio, but in the end, it evaded her again. It was the sum of all those previous experiences making her wary of taking that step with Nate. Why? She wasn’t so sure.
Overall, she worked hard to reassure them she would feel better soon. It would just take some time.
They were all coming to the lake the next day for lunch after a morning boat cruise. Top on the must-see list was the gemstone. Next were the kauri pines. Sally boldly added they’d take their fill of Nate while on the cruise.
Roberta mulled over this as she negotiated the right-hand turn leading into Lake Barrine. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Ogling and assessing Nate without her there had her stomach churning. God alone knew what mischief they would get up to. No doubt Connor would bombard Nate with nonstop questions. Connor had already warned her he would assess for himself whether Nate was good enough for her or not.
At this point in the conversation, they’d hoed into their delicious meal, stuffing their faces with aromatic garlic bread. Roberta was past the point of crying and had begun laughing more.
Finally pulling into her usual spot in the top car park, she turned the ignition off and got out, filling her core with the sweet, potent air of the rainforest. She held onto it for a moment, rallying the soldiers inside her head before she sent them out to fight. She was mentally tired. Telling her story to her friends exhausted her more than she thought.
It felt good to be clear of her secret. Overlooking the teahouse, cottage and the shadowy lake from this higher vantage point, all that was visible was a sliver of moonlight making a show on the water. For a second, she wondered if she was all alone. A shiver of apprehension shimmied around her chest. She wasn’t sure how she felt about being the only person in the car park at this time of night. There was always that fear of a herd of galloping brumbies coming out of nowhere, which was ridiculous in this place. If she wasn’t careful, her imagination would conjure up a snake pit of tropical pythons she’d fall into or a collection of drop bears walking out of the rainforest and stalking her.
She shook her head, smiling. Get to bed and get a good night’s sleep, she admonished herself before looking down towards the maintenance shed. It was in total darkness, too. Beside it, though, was another dark shape. A smaller shed she’d seen in that spot with no idea what was behind its doors. Thin beams of light shone along one side, spilling out of what looked to be a door slightly ajar. She shrugged, shutting the car door. She might go check whether someone accidentally left the light on.
Making for the steps, she took one last look at the shadowy waters of the lake. Even at night, its beauty never ceased to amaze her. How had she never heard of this place? Why did some parts of the world get to experience such incredible natural beauty while others contended with harsh, dry climates with no relief from the burning sun?
Which switched her thoughts back to Nate and his determination to protect it all with everything he could muster. She didn’t doubt Nate would choose death over life for his cause. On nights like this, when she saw it through his eyes, she understood his driving passion, which did nothing to diminish her newly discovered feelings for him. Or her hesitancy as to what to do next. She had a job waiting for her in her concrete jungle. Was she at a juncture in her life where a decision had to be made?
A man with such powerful ambitions was hard to ignore. So, who was the woman draped all over him today? Roberta didn’t doubt there was a shared history there. But it was none of her business. She had the gemstone. She’d learnt more than she needed to. It was time to ring her mother, tell her she was coming home and demand the entire story the second she did. There were many gaps for her mother to fill in.
For now, it was time to call it a day.
She resigned herself to the fact she would leave the north changed somewhat. Probably no different from how her mother’s visit all those years ago had left her changed, too.
She pondered this as she carefully made her way down the uneven concrete steps to the cottage. A shower would go a long way to making her feel human. She was still grimy from her work shift. Greasy from the delicious pasta dish. Full to the brim with the extra garlic bread.
With that plan made, she entered the eerily quiet cottage, making straight for the shower. There was no sign of Nate, and for once, she was grateful. She could sing to her heart’s content in time with the needle pricks of scalding water on her skin. Hot was on the menu that night. If she came out rosy skinned, there was no one to remark on it.
But then again, this was something her younger brother would often remark on and now she missed his brotherly bantering, his bad jokes and his messy, unkept hair only a tradie could perfect. The thought of telling him they were only half siblings filled her with dread because, deep down, she wanted nothing to change between them. This news would.
Once finished, she stepped out of the shower and slipped on her worn and comfy Snoopy shirt and pyjama shorts. Only then did she remember the light in the mystery shed. Damn!
Natasha’s number one rule when closing up was to switch off all unnecessary lights. She scrummaged around in her daypack for her torch and slipped her feet into comfortable slip-ons. It should take her two minutes. She was already dreaming of bed.
Leaving the cottage, she walked along the lake’s edge towards the sheds. The quiet ripple of water was a balm to her tired mind. The gentle breeze wrapped itself around her bare legs while it eddied the water towards the edge in soft wrinkles.
The gravel path crunched under her shoes, dimming any other sound. As she looked ahead, there was no mistaking a light was on. As she got closer, there was a whooshing sound. Her brow scrunched up. Was someone there? Was it Nate? Before her heart could pound any faster and before she thought too much about her actions—just in case she was putting her life at risk—in usual Roberta style, she swung the door open wide and stepped inside. The squeak of the old hinges reverberated around the small shed space.
Nate.
He froze at the intrusion. His arms mid-action, sanding an upturned timber rowing boat.
Robotically, he straightened, revealing his bare chest. The paltry yellow light glistened on the sheen of sweat coating his torso and his light-coloured hair along his chest. Her eyes followed it all the way down to the neat vee near his belly button.
She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry, her gaze moving to the hard knots of muscles in his arms until she looked up and their eyes connected. Her breath caught inside her throat.
The aging bulb gave him a honey-glow effect as millions of dust particles from sanding the timber floated and drifted around them. She inhaled the smell of the fresh shavings. Toxic to the point she wanted to keep inhaling its strong timber smell.
Her traitorous body began a song of its own. Pulsing at different points and tingling all over her skin. This was so unfair. Reminded of the old Snoopy shirt she wore, a fierce blush scorched her skin, racing uncontrollably up her neck and over her face.
“Roberta.” Her name came out croaky. He cleared his throat. “What are you doing here?”
“I came to check if someone had left the light on. You know how Natasha goes on about that.”
He nodded once, then stilled. Awkwardness hung in the air as they continued to stare at each other, growing more uncomfortable with each passing moment. “Are you okay?” he finally asked.
She licked her lips, tasting the timber particles. Was he referring to now or earlier at the teahouse? “I wasn’t.”
“And now?” He reached back for something off the old, dusty workbench beside the upturned boat.
She shrugged. “I went to Sally’s. Liz and Connor were there.”
“Liz and Connor?” Nate motioned for her to come closer; his only offering was a sheet of sandpaper.
She braved a couple of steps, the confined space in the shed closing in around them. Accepting his offer, she took the sheet of coarse sandpaper, pressing its rough grit against the soft skin of her palm. He picked up another sheet and showed her what to do. Back and forth. Back and forth. Hypnotic.
She started talking. It was what she did best. Beginning with the day she met Liz on a train in southern Italy. The jewels, how Connor came into the picture, his amputation, Antonio. How the glow of that relationship shone for a few months, until it didn’t. Until the pressures of too much money and always being in the public eye got too much. She delved into the past too and talked about the night of the brumbies and how their friend was killed. The reason she became a nurse so she could save lives instead of feeling helpless. All the while, in tandem, they swept the sandpaper over the hull of the upturned rowboat. Soothing. Cathartic. Sensual.
As she spoke, Nate listened attentively, interjecting with sporadic questions. Occasionally, their fingers touched. Other times, their arms brushed. But still, Roberta chattered, building up the anticipation of what a friendship between them could be like. A situation where their tempers weren’t flaring and unkind words weren’t being said. Until she exhausted her story. Had no idea of the time. Was no longer that tired.
She straightened her back, her spine knuckles slipping back into place one by one. Nate was on the same side of the hull, and he did the same. So much for her shower. Timber dust lightly covered her, creating a static sensation as she ran a finger along her skin.
“That’s some story.”
Feeling braver than she should, or stupid, she stretched up and gave his cheek a lingering kiss, tasting sweat and dust. He smelt so good it made her giddy. The strong fragrance of the aged timber filled her senses, and she momentarily swayed. He reached out to steady her.
“Will you tell me yours?” she whispered, her heart beginning to beat faster. Did she want to know? Was there unfinished business with the other woman? Enough to kill whatever was building up between them?
When he didn’t answer straight away, she stepped back, her thigh colliding with the edge of the rowing boat. She rubbed at the spot for something to do with her hand. She was overstepping and should walk out and go to bed.
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Who was the woman?” Bugger. Her and her big mouth. Why did she never shut it when it was absolutely necessary to? Nate owed her nothing. Especially not an explanation.
The way he glanced towards the door suggested he wanted to escape, too. His fingers, she noticed, were curled inwards, scrunching up the sheet of sandpaper he held.
He released a guttural sound that came from deep within and, with a rough jerk, switched his attention back to the rowboat, sweeping it harshly with the gritty sandpaper crumpled from his fierce hold.
Roberta’s heart thumped. This was a new version of Nate. Angry, emotional, grim.
“Her name is Crystal,” he spat between lips drawn together, “and she had no right to be here today.”