Chapter Eighteen

Jack stood on the porch of Holly’s house. Crickets chirped a frenzied good evening to the deepening dusk of the evening, the generator’s dull roar across the valley echoing in the still night. All the doors and windows stood open, but the house seemed empty, devoid of life.

No lights shone inside. The dark interior fought against the last reddened rays of light that struggled to inch its way through the shadows of the banyan trees that shadowed the house.

He scratched at his smooth, freshly shaved chin. I was supposed to come here after work. I’m sure Holly said to come here. He put his hands against the door frame and called into the dark hallway. “Holly?”

A voice from inside, tired, frazzled sounding. “In here.”

Jack kicked off his shoes and went through the house, flicking on lights as he went. “Where are you?”

“Kitchen.”

She sat at the kitchen table, in amongst what looked like the remains of a tornado. A kitchen cutlery drawer hanging open. Dirty cups and plates on the bench. A cabinet pulled out, a hole in the floor, wooden box on the table. He switched on the dining room light, making her squint against the sudden glare.

“What the hell happened here?” He asked. She looked terrible, eyes puffy, cheeks tear stained. She held onto a blue, hard backed book, clutched at it, finger tips white she held it so tight against her chest.

“Cheryl and Kristy were here.” She flipped the book down into her lap, stared, lip quivering.

He laughed with confusion, raised an eyebrow and asked waggling an imaginary cigar. “What did they do, trash the place?”

She forced a smile. “Ha, ha, funny Jack.”

She smoothed the cover of the book lovingly in her hands. “We found Mum’s diary. In the safe under the cabinet.”

Jack picked up the wooden box on the table, slid the pieces back together, turning it over and around in his hands. “This is one of Dad’s puzzle boxes.” He pointed out a stamp, J.Q. under a thick layer of dirt. “Christ, look at the dust on it.”

“Your dad actually told me to look for it. I just didn’t realize it was under my nose the whole time. It’s been right here since the day Mum died. The last date in the diary was the 1st of November. She…they died on the 15th.”

Jack watched as she struggled with her emotions, running her hands through her hair, brushing it away from her face, mouth pressed firmly together. Her body stiff to keep from trembling. He wanted to take her in his arms and stroke her back. To let her know he’d never let anything hurt her again, but something held him back. She was struggling to find the words. He clutched at the table instead to hold himself back, to give her time to speak.

“God, she struggled with my father, with herself. She was so lost. Masie…Masie and James—they… Oh Jack, James was trying to help Mum escape.” She stared up at him, eyes searching for a sign of understanding.

Jack crouched down in front of her chair, looked up into her face. “Can I read this?” He placed his hand on the book, a diary that not only had opened her eyes to her mother’s secrets, but obviously held some of his fathers.

“Yeah, you need to. Your father loved my mother, I think, but not in the dirty way everyone thought. He was a good man, Jack. He made mistakes, but…He was the one person my mother could wholly trust.” Holly put her hand on Jack’s face, stroked his cheek, smiled at him, eyes full of sadness. “Like the way I trust you, Jack.”

He gulped down a lump in his throat. Now he needed some time. What mistakes could have been bad enough to cause the pity he saw now in Holly’s eyes. He forced a smile. “Why don’t I read this after dinner? Sounds like we both had a very long day. Marty tried to keep me busy, take my mind off things, and ended up destroying half the work I finished in his rush to help.”

“Oh, no. Dinner.” Holly put a guilty hand to her mouth with a gasp, eyes widening. “I’m sorry, I read all afternoon.”

Jack laughed. She looked horrified that she’d forgotten. “We’ll whip up some sandwiches or something. Is the copper hot?”

“No, I’ve done nothing. After Kristy and Cheryl left, I lost track of the time.” She leapt out of her chair and hurried into the kitchen, burying her head inside the large chest freezer, moving items around, mist of cool air surrounding her in a haze. “It won’t take long to whip something up.” Her voice sounded muffled as she dug deep down into the depths of the freezer. Her toes were barely touching the floor she was hung that far over. He couldn’t help but laugh, clutching at his belly. The feeling of letting go felt so good after the last few hurtful days.

“You look so funny. You almost need a winter coat.”

She popped back up and turned to him with a quizzical grin. “Do you want to eat or not, cheeky bugger.” She turned back around and dug out a box. “We can have a cowboy dinner—beans, bacon and eggs. Just have to defrost the bacon, and we’re good.”

“Okay, I’ll go light the copper. You pour us a drink. When the water’s hot, I’ll run you a bath. I’ll keep you company while you soak. By then the bacon will have defrosted enough so that we don’t have to eat it in blocks.”

Holly smiled, crossed the floor and grabbed his face with her two frozen hands. He gasped at the shock and then melted into her embrace as she kissed him. As the kiss deepened he thought he may have to take her right there and then on the kitchen floor, but she broke the kiss and gazed with pure delight, into his eyes. “You are a good man, Jack.”

He giggled to himself. If only she knew what I was really thinking.

* * * *

She sat relaxed back, sunk up to her neck in the bath, knees poking out of bubbles that layered the water’s surface. The bathroom was hot, a cloud of steam sitting at the ceiling, hovering damp above them. A glass of chardonnay sat on the rim, and she sighed with pleasure.

Jack looked up from his position on the floor, diary open on his lap. She gazed at him, her head resting on a balled up hand towel, a lazy smile on her face. “This is heaven.” Her face was pink, a sheen of sweat on her brow, but she looked happy.

He tapped the book, and took a sip of his own wine, placing it back down beside him. “This is hell. What your mother went through to cover for my dad and Masie. I’m so disappointed in him.” He grimaced with pain. I would never of thought it of you, Dad. I defended you to the very last. He couldn’t understand it. Masie? He shook his head. I wish Mum had of been the one to find you, not Celeste.

Holly swung around in the tub, hand grasping the edge, anger furrowing her brow, eyes glinting. “Don’t ever talk that way about your father in front of me, Jack. Yes, what he did with Masie was wrong, but, what he tried to do for my mother… He was a good man, Jack. I won’t hear another word against him.”

Jack closed the book with a snap and placed it carefully on the floor beside him, tipping his head back to lie against the wall. He closed his eyes against his bewilderment. “I just can’t understand it, Holly. He let your mother take the fall. He wasn’t man enough to stand up to the lies. It was guilt that drove him, not any moral reasoning.”

“I just don’t see that. I see a man who made a mistake. I see a man who treated my mother with love and respect. I suspect there was guilt there, but he was a man who didn’t want to see Mum hurt anymore. He tried to help her escape, Jack. He might not have been able to stop the talk—but he was there still trying to help her. He was proud of her, and I think he was scared for her.”

Jack sighed and shook his head. “Masie has a lot to answer for. She played a big part in this, and the old bag is still neck deep in it. She’s not changed a bit.”

“You have no idea.” Holly rolled her eyes. “Masie was neck deep in it twenty years ago. Cheryl told me Masie destroyed my mother’s things after I’d left the island. My father’s stuff was hallowed ground. Mum’s—only good for the fire. Cheryl said it was like watching someone possessed.” She shook her head, mouth set in a firm line, eyes glinting with determination. “I’m going to have to go and see her. She has to know that she’s not going to hurt us anymore, Jack. No one gets to play games with my family, from this day forward. It’s done.”

Jack watched Holly slip back down into the water, relaxing again into the tub. Grabbing her glass of wine and taking a sip, bubbles slid down her slick, wet arm, and Jack’s mind tipped sideways. His thoughts turned to a possession of another kind. Holly included me as family. She has not once, yet told me she loves me. I won’t force that from her. I know, in my gut she feels the same way I do. I’m a patient man. I’ll wait for those three little words, but for her to include me as family…That is a big step for her. She’s lost so much family already. He felt his eyes prickle with emotion, and he knuckled at the corner of his eyes before she noticed.

He scrambled up off the floor, shucking off his shirt, unzipping his jeans and pushing them down over his lean hips. Holly, wine glass at her lips, eyes wide, choked out a laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Jumping in too. Suddenly, I feel very dirty.”

Holly screeched with laughter, lifting her wine glass high, scooting back in the tub to make room. Water slopped and splashed out of the tub onto the floor with all the commotion. Jack, smiling from ear to ear, took her glass out of her hand and placed it on the floor, kneeling between her legs in the hot soapy water. Placing his hands either side of her head on the edge of the bath, he lowered his face to hers, kissed her softly on her lips, and whispered, “Yup, very dirty indeed.”