Sofie choked on a sip of water. Coughing and spluttering, Jennifer swung around, eyes huge with one of her concerned glares only she could execute. ‘Are you okay, Sis?’
‘Sure,’ Sofie squeaked waving her hand, indicating they should carry on. ‘I’m fine—I’m fine.’
Jennifer paused, rearranged her face, and calmly turned back to Rafael Adumari. ‘Rafael. Lovely name. Look, to be honest, your best bet for a typical Australian meal would be the pub. I recommend the Sapphire bistro. Please sit. Don’t go away, or I won’t know what to do with the smoked mackerel. Okay?’ He nodded. ‘Chill,’ she urged, ‘I’ll be right back.’
Sofie tried to stay calm, but couldn’t get another morsel drown her constricted throat as thoughts tumbled through her mind and emotions tied her stomach in knots. She sipped more water, which helped a little.
The young man sat at a table nearest the door; was that in case he needed to bolt? He fiddled with the menu, and cast glances at the windows then back to the door. Shit, what could she do to make him relax? Nerves on edge, she peered down at her trembling hands and told herself there was no reason to fall apart like this. She took a deep breath. Engaging him in a little mundane chitchat might help him forget about running away, which would ease the tension creeping into her neck.
‘It’s horribly cold and windy today, yet you’re not even nearly dressed for it.’ Oh God, what was she doing? She sounded like a typical worried mother. She gulped more water down, adding, ‘How on earth do you manage it?’
‘I’m British,’ he said on a beautiful smile as if that answered everything.
Sofie nodded. ‘Are you here to tour the vineyards?’ The door opened and he jumped, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. On seeing the newcomers—clearly no one he knew—he let go a breath and the tension in his shoulders eased. Relaxing? Not much.
Sofie got the distinct impression that if she were to get up and walk to the kitchen to talk to her sister, and they went back to the dining area, he’d be gone. She didn’t want that to happen. This was huge, like walking a knife edge.
Jennifer came back with a wide bowl of steaming pasta and placed it on the table in front of him. ‘Would you like something to drink? Our house wines are from award-winning local vineyards.’
‘Thank you, but I need a clear head. I’d better stick to water for now.’
‘Sure thing, I’ll be right back.’ On her way through, she ushered a young couple in, seating them and handing them menus. As she passed Sofie, Jennifer bugged her eyes out at her. Sofie didn’t know what to do with that and gave a little shrug.
Her focus went back to the young man who was using his fork to push at his delicious pasta. Eventually, he filled his fork, lifted it into his open mouth and chewed, then took another, and another.
Okay good, he’s occupied, enjoying his food, which didn’t help this worrying situation—at all. It was so awkward, and terrifying. But despite the adrenaline pumping through her, Sofie smiled on the outside, and did her utmost to control a hysterical outburst that bubbled in her chest and put her stomach in a vice-like grip. She forced herself to stand, and hands trembling, picked up her bowl to take it away. Needing to keep an eye on Rafael, she hovered in the hallway adjacent to the kitchen door; should he decide to leave, she was ready to tackle him to the floor if needs be. How would she explain that … oops, sorry, didn’t mean to fall on you?
Shit!
‘Jen—Jen!’ Sofie whispered loud enough for her sister to hear over the workings of the kitchen.
Jennifer eyed her. ‘Why are you all sparkly—’ frowning she jerked her head back for a better look, ‘—and weird … huh? C’mon, give?’
‘I thought you understood when you passed me out there and gave me the big eyes. You can’t have forgotten the bundle of photos that were dropped off? We cooed and ahhed over them for ages.’
‘I gave you big eyes because he’s hot, and he’s …’ Staring at Sofie, Jennifer’s mouth popped open, not really looking at her, but thinking back to the night they studied the parcel of photos. Slowly, her focus came back. ‘Oh—my—God!’ came out like a harsh whisper.
‘Yeah, that’s right. Oh my God!’ Sofie whispered back.
‘Okay, so there’s a connection, we know who the photos belong to, but why drop them off here?’
Sofie eyed her sister, who was being the dippy one in the family really, not her this time.
And then things got worse.
‘Interesting how he reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who.’
‘Jen?’ Sofie gave her sister a baffled frown.
‘Yeah?’ Jennifer responded brightly.
‘What is wrong with you?’ Sofie gripped her sister’s arm and gave it a shake.
Jennifer frowned then sighed. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me, but my hormones are all over the show. My brain’s like mush … not enough sleep,’ she yawned.
Jesus, okay, not going there right now, Sofie tried to tell herself, but it didn’t work, her excitement was building on two fronts. ‘Crikey!’ she quietly exploded and took her sister by the shoulders, squeezing them, and asked, ‘Have you seen someone?’
‘Oh sure, like I’ve got time.’ Jennifer leaned her hip against the work bench and yawned. ‘Shit, I’m so tired.’
Sofie rolled her eyes, cupped her sister’s face, and said, ‘I’ll talk to you later, but the other problem out there can’t wait, so listen carefully. I’ll explain as quickly as I can. Brock and I talked last night and about twenty years ago he had a fling with Susanna Adumari.’ Jennifer’s mouth popped open and understanding flooded her face. ‘I’m thinking, my hunky Brock and Susanna made Rafael. I suppose he could be someone else’s, but looking at him I doubt that very much.’
‘Oh—my—God!’ Jennifer whispered.
‘What is going on with you two?’ Elliot asked, then added, ‘Keep it down, Jesus, you’re messin’ with my head.’
‘In a minute, Elliot, this is too important,’ Jennifer told him.
‘What am I going to do with this?’ Sofie asked. She swallowed past a throat that was becoming uncomfortably thick. ‘Brock will be here any second. Shit—shit—shit!’
‘Maybe you should meet him outside and try and explain …’ Jennifer yawned again, ‘ … ease him in gently.’
‘Good idea, Jen. Let me take the water, I’ll drop it off to Rafael on the way.’ Jennifer went to the refrigerator, pulled out a carafe and handed it to her. Sofie took it and muttered, ‘I don’t know how Brock’s going to take this, and I don’t know where to begin.’
The sound of footsteps—no, more like large strides—came through the sunroom and down the short hallway. Panicking, Sofie shoved the carafe back at Jennifer. ‘Shit! Brock’s here,’ her voice a tense squeak. She swung around catching Brock’s silhouette as he came through the gloom of the hallway. Smiling, he sauntered into the restaurant’s kitchen.
‘Hey,’ Sofie and Jennifer said brightly and in unison.
Brock gave them both a sidelong, suspicious look. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ll tell you what’s going on,’ Elliot began. ‘These two—’
In a flash, Jennifer clapped a hand over his mouth and gave him her best death glare. ‘If you value your nuts, do not say a word,’ she hissed at him.
Elliot’s eyes were huge, but quickly turned squinty, as if saying you wouldn’t dare.
‘Oh yes, I would, Elliot.’
He gave her a one-shoulder shrug, and mumbled something that sounded like he was yielding, and Jennifer eased her hand away.
‘Sofe, you going to tell me?’ Brock asked, frowning down at her.
‘Keep an eye out,’ she asked Jennifer with a sideways nod to the dining area. ‘Back in a minute.’ She took Brock’s hand and tugged him out to the back sunroom and explained as gently and as quickly as she possibly could.
What?’ Hands low on his hips, his voice barely a whisper, which was nigh on impossible for Brock, his expression intense, almost scary. ‘Is this some sort of joke?’
‘Brock!’ She raised herself onto her toes and, glaring at him, thumped his shoulder—hard. ‘How could you think that of me? I didn’t drop the photos off. I didn’t force that young man to walk in here today!’
‘Sofe, this … this is …’ Brows furrowed, as a range of emotions shifted behind his eyes, he shoved his fingers into his hair, and left them planted on top of his head.
‘I know it’s a shock, but it’s also beautiful. He’s so much like you, it’s uncanny. He’s a lovely young man, and though you had no part in his upbringing, you can be proud of Susanna for the wonderful job she did. And you can be proud of Rafael Adumari slash Stewart.’
Brock swung around and peered down the hall. ‘Why didn’t she tell me?’ he quietly asked himself.
‘I don’t know. But he’s out there and if you’re careful, I’m sure he’ll answer all your questions. Keep in mind, if he’s anything like you, and I think he is, do not say anything negative about his mum.’
Brock’s frown deepened. ‘Fuck no. I wouldn’t. Still pissed that I wasn’t included. You know what I’m saying?’
‘Yeah,’ Sofie said on a breath, ‘I know. But Brock, you could have him now.’
He started to move, and just in case she needed to soothe the savage beast, she called softly, ‘Hey, be gentle.’
Hand reaching for her, he asked, ‘Yeah … what’re you doing?’
‘You want me to go with you?’
‘Fuck yeah,’ Brock demanded, clasping her hand firmly in his.
‘Jennifer’s the one who has been talking to him.’ Sofie’s voice wobbled as she tried to keep up with his long strides. Brock glanced across his shoulder, and cut his pace back to match hers. ‘So let her introduce you, I mean us.’
‘Yep,’ he clipped, nervously.
They made it to the kitchen, but Jennifer wasn’t there. Sofie peeked around the corner into the restaurant dining area and found her. She’d taken care of several new diners, but was now talking to Rafael.
Brock came to her side and froze.
‘You okay?’ His hand shook in hers; she gave it a squeeze. ‘Brock?’ Nothing. Sofie wrapped her arms around him, held on tightly, and pressed her forehead into his jaw.
After long agonising moments Brock heaved in a deep breath and slowly let it out past his lips. ‘Just like Susanna,’ he said on a sigh.
‘Of course, but then, Jen and I both thought he looked familiar, his mannerisms too. He could not be anyone else’s son, but yours. Rafael is like you all over, you’re his dad.’
When his eyes, filled with awe and trepidation met, Sofie’s her filled with tears. She blinked several times and mentally hauled herself back from bawling. His expression softened and the smallest of smiles lit his face. ‘You keep me whole.’ Then corners of his mouth fluttered, and he let it rip, big, broad and happy.
‘Brock Stewart?’ Sofie whispered.
‘Yeah.’
‘I love you. I really, really love you.’ She reached up as he dipped his head, and kissed him; holding hands, they walked out into the dining area together.
***
Jennifer shifted to the side and, on seeing them approach, Rafael scraped his chair back and stood. Freaking out didn’t quite cover what was written all over his face, especially his assessing, dark-brown eyes.
Hand extended, Brock stepped forward. ‘Brock Stewart,’ he said, clear and concise which, under the circumstances, had to be a miracle. Training and control, she reminded herself.
Rafael didn’t hesitate and, from across the table, took the offered hand in a tight grip. Then he sidled past the chairs heading straight for Brock. He was in his father’s arms. The sight of these men who had a connection, and at least one hadn’t known the other existed, who were hanging onto each other as if their lives depended on it, made Sofie’s heart swell. She tried to hold back a sob. Hand to her mouth, it kind of worked. Rafael’s eyes were shut tight, but that didn’t hold back the silent tears that flowed through his long, dark lashes and down his cheeks. Brock’s eyes were also screwed shut, and his lashes were wet.
A little while later, Brock pushed his son back at arm’s length, checked him over, then yanked him in for another tight hug. If Sofie had been hugged like that, she would’ve passed out by now.
‘Why don’t you all sit down,’ Jennifer suggested, ‘and I’ll break out some wine.’
‘Thanks, Jen,’ Brock said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Sofie clearly read Brock’s ‘holy crap’ emotions rolling across his face and behind his eyes. He was in shock, ecstatic, fearful, but joyous.
Living a dream.
‘I’ll help.’ Sofie started to move, but Brock had other ideas.
‘No you don’t, Sofe.’ Arm around her waist, he murmured in her ear, ‘You belong here.’
‘Okay,’ she replied softly, heart bursting with love and pride; she busied herself searching in her pockets for a tissue while trying to stop her mouth and chin from trembling.
‘Sofe?’ Brock’s hand appeared under her nose holding a wad of tissues.
She sniffled, grabbed the tissues, dabbed her eyes and nose, only then did she feel comfortable enough to raise her chin and say, ‘Thank you,’ her tentative smile aimed at Brock. His mouth twitched as he ever so slightly shook his head. Sofie took a steadying breath and faced Rafael. ‘Gosh, sorry, Rafael, but that was overwhelming and so beautiful to see you two together like that.’
‘Please don’t apologise,’ Rafael gently told her, ‘especially not for something like this.’ He took a deep breath and let it out. ‘But, I’m glad that’s out of the way, finally. And please, just call me Raff … um … Raffie if you have to.’ He ducked his head and grinned at his feet.
Giggling to cover her emotions, Sofie dabbed her eyes again, and said, ‘Like the tennis star?’
‘Yeah, not my idea.’ Shrugging, he shook his head, as if saying, who names a baby Rafael?
‘I think it’s a beautiful name,’ Sofie sniffed, pulling herself together.
‘Sofe, you okay now?’ Happy with her nod and kiss to his jaw, Brock pulled a chair out for her, and once she sat he dragged it close to his. He found her hand and placed it on his thigh.
Looking at their interaction, Rafael grinned. ‘Yeah, I’m glad I came.’
Brock didn’t miss it and chuckled. ‘What’s that smile for?’ he asked.
‘Mum let me read her journals. In them it said you were always a gentleman.’
Brock fought back a grin and looking down at the table he mumbled, ‘She would say that.’
The restaurant door opened. Claudia and Michelle waltzed in ready for their afternoon shift. Two sets of bright, curious eyes darted their way.
Brock stood and motioned for the girls to come over. ‘Claudia, Michelle, I’d like you to meet Rafael Adumari—my son.’
‘Holy …!’ Claudia exclaimed. ‘Where have you been hiding him?’
‘Crikey,’ Michelle whispered, shocked, which was very unlike her.
Eyes huge and round, the girls stepped forward. Rafael stood leaning over the table, hand outstretched. A little awestruck, the girls took turns in shaking his hand.
Rafael still had some growing to do, but it was clear he had his father’s build, he was a handsome young man, and best of all, his manners were impeccable.
Claudia’s cheeks went pink and she fiddled with her hair.
But the ever-practical and down-to-earth Michelle quickly came to grips with the surprise and shook his hand. ‘Wow, a mini Rock.’ She giggled. ‘A Pebble.’ Her eyes darted around taking all of them in. Undeterred, she added, ‘Sorry, am I being a babbling twit?’
Rafael laughed, hard. When his laugh became a chuckle he said, ‘Not at all, in fact it’s quite refreshing.’
Michelle’s expression turned sceptical and curious all at the same time. She nudged Claudia who seemed to have lost the power of speech. So she carried on, ‘Well, it’s nice to know we are refreshing. After the holidays when we’re back at school, anyone looks down on us, I’ll tell them Brock’s Pebble said we’re refreshing.’
‘Pardon?’ Rafael said, head tilted to the side.
Michelle slanted her head in the opposite direction—was she mocking him?
‘You know … Brock? So locals call your dad “The Rock”, or just plain “Rock”. Not to his face of course; they might slip up occasionally. Brock just gives them a pained warning look that no one takes seriously.’
Rafael nodded and quietly laughed, ‘I can see it would be a way of expressing their admiration for someone like my dad.’
Michelle smiled. ‘Yeah … you’re right.
‘But hey, never Rocky?’ Rafael asked.
Suppressing a grin, Brock studied his boots.
‘Ooh no, never that,’ Michelle waggled her finger at him, ‘what you just said.’
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ Brock muttered behind a grin.
‘We’d better go.’ Claudia pulled at Michelle’s sleeve.
‘See ya, Raffie,’ Michelle sang out, as they headed for the kitchen, giggling.
‘She’s amazing,’ Rafael drawled, watching the girls leave.
After a moment’s reflection, Brock’s head came up. ‘How long have you known?’
‘Everything was explained to me on my twentieth birthday.’
Jennifer came with their drinks, placing them on the table. Before going back to the hostess stand, she put a comforting hand on Sofie’s shoulder.
‘I have so many questions,’ Brock said. There wasn’t a hint of ill feeling in Brock’s voice or manner. He didn’t appear to be offended that he hadn’t been informed he had a son. Yet knowing the type of man he was, Sofie thought he would’ve had to have been pissed right-the-fuck-off for missing his son’s growing years. He squeezed her hand, his way of preparing her. ‘Your mum and I didn’t know each other well, but the brief times we connected were very happy ones.’
Something squeezed Sofie’s heart. She quickly reminded herself, their romance was a long time ago. And good grief, the woman died horribly.
‘Yeah, Mum said as much when I asked where my father was. But at the time, she didn’t, or wouldn’t, elaborate any further. I know why she kept me away, or rather, you away.’
Brock’s body froze, his hand on Sofie’s stopped stroking, stopped feeling her skin.
‘I have her letters and journals with me. It’s mostly boring stuff about me.’ Rafael dipped to the floor and picked up a satchel; opening it he pulled out a couple of files and a few exercise books. He handed them to his father. ‘You’re welcome to read them, and be certain on this, I won’t be offended if you’d rather not. Mum can be long-winded about me.’
‘I want to read them.’ Brock stared at the bundle then up at his son and took the files. ‘What made you drop the photos here? How did you find me?’
‘We searched the internet and eventually came across information on your courage in Afghanistan. We had a faded photo, and a town, that’s it. We didn’t want to cause gossip and weird sh— … um, stuff happening, but I saw you come in here, everyone seemed to know you well. I dropped the parcel off early in the morning, better chance that no one would see me.’ Rafael clenched his hands, his throat working, probably to keep emotions in check. Brock waited. ‘I had no idea what anyone’s reaction would be, so I went about it the only way I could … carefully.’ Rafael gave him a tight, apologetic smile. ‘I wish it had been different. It’s unfortunate, but it is what it is.’
Brock gave him a solemn nod. ‘How long are you staying and where?’ It was a question but it sounded more like a demand. Sofie squeezed his thigh and hoped he got the message.
Rafael blinked but, to his credit, didn’t let Brock’s abruptness daunt him. ‘I took a break from university studies, sort of. I forgot my lecturers had my email address. They’re making sure I don’t fall behind. Not that I ever would, Mum would make sure of it,’ he said, smiling, then added, ‘Rightly or wrongly, because years were taken from us, I intend to take as long as I … or you need. I understand this is probably stranger for you than it is for me. There’s no such thing as Immaculate Conception; my dad had to be somewhere.’ He laughed. ‘Had to be.’
‘Yeah,’ Brock agreed, but his tone said something else. Perhaps he wished he’d known there had to be a son or daughter, somewhere. He would’ve gone looking until he’d found him, or her, definitely.
Rafael’s eyes were fixed on his clasped hands resting on the table, knuckles turning white as his fingers dug in to the top of his hands, holding tight. He slowly raised his head, expression open, no hidden agendas, and nothing to hide. Sofie held her breath, but didn’t worry, because her gut told her Rafael was beautiful inside and out, and it never lied.
‘Mum explains everything, it’s all in the files marked “Afghanistan”,’ he said, nodding towards the bundle in front of Brock. ‘You’re welcome to read the others but, as I said, it’ll bore the pants off you. It’s like a diary of my life, you know, stuff like, first tooth, first steps, first bloody knee, right up until I left for university.’
Reflexively, Sofie’s fingers dug into Brock’s thigh and her heart began to thump so hard she had to catch her breath. She didn’t know how he managed it, but Brock kept his emotions under control.
‘Your mum was a journalist, the best. Susanna would’ve made sure everything she wrote down was the truth of it, and how that made her feel.’ Suddenly Brock’s hand slid up to Sofie’s forearm, as if he was about to make a move, but there was something stopping him, so his fingers wrapped around her arm and he hung on. He knew. So focused on this mind-blowing revelation, he had no idea he was causing Sofie pain. His eyes narrowed and deep furrows appeared above the bridge of his nose. Then his body jerked with every punishing thump of his heart. Back straight, muscles strung tight made him look a whole lot bigger. ‘University!?’ his deadly whisper, a scary rumble.
‘Yeah,’ Rafael answered, eyebrows arched in question.
‘We are talking about the same person?’ Brock asked. ‘US journalist, Susanna Adumari?’
‘Okay, I get a feeling we’re missing something here.’ Rafael’s brow slammed down, his dark, sad, intense eyes homing in on Brock’s. ‘Yeah, Mum is one and the same.’
Sofie twisted around, peering at Brock’s pale face. He’d moved his hand from her arm, and now both fists were clenched in his lap. Sharp eyes glittering dangerously, body shaking, and a tell-tale muscle above his jaw flexed, again and again, would make anyone run for the hills—not Rafael.
Eyes blazing, Brock muttered, ‘The way you were talking, I figured it was your way of keeping your mum close.’
Rafael reared back in his seat, and shoulders square, he said, ‘Something’s wrong—very wrong.’
‘Yeah?’ Brock ground out. Just that one word sounded barbed as well as menacing. Sofie wanted to step in and say something, she just didn’t know what.
Not daunted one bit, forearms on the table, Rafael leaned forward towards Brock, mobile in hand and flicked the screen. Finding what he wanted, he passed it over. ‘That’s Mum, taken just a few days ago.’
Leaning over Brock’s shoulder, something inside Sofie cracked like fine porcelain. Susanna was stunning. She put on a brave face, and said, ‘Your Mum is very beautiful.’
Rafael nodded and turned his attention back to his father. ‘I insisted Mum tell me about you, my dad, but I don’t get this.’
Brock held a hand up and shoved his chair back. ‘I need air!’ he announced and stormed out the door.
‘Brock?’ Sofie whispered, watching him run, long legs eating up the footpath. There was no way Sofie would be able to catch him up … and then he was out of sight.
‘Something’s very, very wrong,’ Rafael murmured again, staring at the door.
‘Raff?’ Sofie called.
Reluctantly, he dragged his eyes away and turned to look at her.
‘This will come as a shock and there’s no possible way to ease into it, but Brock believed Susanna died in his arms.’
This time Rafael turned pale. ‘Fuck!’ he said on a low growl, dropping his head to his hands on the table.
Seconds went by and Sofie didn’t know what to do in this situation.
‘Shit, Mum didn’t know, she didn’t know.’ Rafael’s was voice rough, anguished. He straightened, and his troubled eyes shifted back to the door. ‘I have to go after him.’ Pushing back his chair, he stood.
Sofie grabbed his arm. ‘You find him, bring him back here, I’ll be waiting upstairs.’
He gave her a brief nod and was out the door, running—fast.
Sofie moved away from the table and went straight to Jennifer.
‘What happened, what’s going on?’ her worried sister asked.
‘Um … shit!’ Sofie didn’t know where to start, then blurted out, ‘Susanna did not die in Afghanistan. Brock just found out she’s alive.’
Jennifer grabbed her in a tight hug. ‘It’ll be okay, Sis. It’ll be okay. It’s got to be. Someone’s alive, not dead.’
Sofie nodded against Jennifer’s shoulder and mumbled, ‘I told Raff I’d be waiting for them upstairs.’
‘Good.’ She let Sofie go. ‘I’ll come with you. The girls can manage here.’
‘I won’t be alone, I’ll have a stiff drink keeping me company.’
‘So, we’ll both have one.’ Sofie started to protest, but Jennifer’s hand came up to cover her mouth.
Drink in hand, Sofie peered at the old clock on the mantel, again. It had been over an hour. Heart racing all the while, her imagination going berserk thinking outrageous and scary scenarios, Sofie continued pacing in front of the upstairs living room window. ‘Where the hell are they!’ she muttered harshly.
‘Staring out at Grey Street won’t make them appear any sooner,’ Jennifer told her.