‘Welcome. I’m so pleased you’re joining us.’ Maree Carey had an ageless face beneath grey-streaked, dark brown hair, and a warm graciousness that reminded Serena of her own mother’s hospitality.
Paul closed the front door behind him as his mother took Serena’s hand, held it between hers and looked into her eyes. ‘You’re on a quest. You’re looking for someone—here in Mindalby.’
Serena’s stomach took a dive, roiling like an angry winter ocean beyond the heads in Sydney. Her mouth dried. Cold invaded her body, and her hands chilled between Maree’s. Paul’s mother had seen her link to Frankston, worked out why she was here, and was ready to denounce her. But she shook her head as though telling Serena she was safe from exposure. ‘You will find what you’re looking for, but it won’t be what you expect.’
Unnerved by Maree’s clear blue gaze and uncanny prediction, Serena fiddled with her coat. Was the woman a mind reader too?
Behind Maree, Paul rolled his eyes and grinned. ‘Mum has the second sight, or so she claims. Bet she saw you coming before you arrived in town.’ He shrugged out of his parka and hung it on the rack behind the front door.
Maree patted Serena’s arm and drew her away from Paul. ‘He can scoff all he likes, but ask him how often I’ve been right in my visions.’
‘Yes, Mum. You know we trust what you tell us.’ Paul held out his hand to Serena. ‘Want to take your coat off? That fire throws out a lot of heat.’
Serena untied her soft belt and handed the coat to Paul. He hung it beside his while Maree took her arm and led her into the spacious lounge room.
A roaring log fire threw out waves of heat from the floor-to-ceiling stone fireplace. Curling into a ball in front of that fire might be the only way to thaw the chill holding her courage prisoner.
Something larger than butterflies fluttered in Serena’s stomach. Wasn’t Maree going to say more, or was her vision nameless? Yesterday, and again before they left town, Serena attempted to get out of the invitation and spare Paul’s family embarrassment. If they saw Frankston in her features, the evening would be more than just awkward. Paul had recognised the conman in her sketch as soon as he saw it. But he had failed to notice her likeness in the other sketch. Had Maree made the connection?
She forced the uncomfortable image from her mind as Paul’s mother urged her towards an older version of Paul and Hayden. She studied the man’s features as he rose from an armchair, noting deep lines around his eyes and mouth, the tan line across his forehead where an Akubra would sit, the grey liberally sprinkled through his dark hair. Was her father responsible for Jacob Carey’s care-worn features?
Maree patted her hand and turned to introduce her husband.
Jacob’s smile was familiar as he shook her hand. There was a lot of his father in Paul. ‘Pleased to meet you, Serena. Hayden’s description left out a lot of details, like how pretty you are. By the way, he won’t be joining us this evening. He’s working with one of his mates on ways to liberate our cotton bales.’
‘It’s kind of you to invite me.’ Heart-thumping moments passed as she searched Jacob’s face for signs of recognition, of acknowledgement she looked like Greg Frankston. It was a mistake to have come. Any moment now he would recognise her and—
Jacob’s doppelganger elbowed him out of the way and took her hand. Chocolate-brown Carey eyes like Paul’s, but crinkled at the corners, twinkled as he raised her hand to his lips. ‘You’re spoken for, little brother. Keep your eyes on the gorgeous woman you married and leave space for us single blokes to entertain the bachelorettes.’
Stunned, she looked at the two men before turning to Maree.
‘No, you’re not seeing things. Paul’s father and uncle are identical twins.’
‘I’m Joshua, the good-looking one.’ Joshua nudged his brother’s arm and waggled his eyebrows at her. ‘Isn’t that right, Jake?’
Jacob sat back in his armchair and chuckled. ‘Dream on, Josh. I’m the one who got the girl. All the handsome genes went to my boys.’
‘Which is why you’re so ugly now—’
‘Cut the quibbling you two and give Serena a drink.’ Maree rolled her eyes, her fondness for her husband and brother-in-law clear as she grinned at Serena.
‘I dreamed of Jake the night before we met then wondered why I was seeing double. The gift of second sight came to me through my Irish grandmother.’
‘None of the men in her family dare call her on it. Trouble is, she’s usually right.’ Joshua gave Maree a quick hug and turned to Serena. ‘Has this delinquent nephew of mine shown you the night view over the river from the lookout yet?’
‘Um, what lookout? What’s so special about the night view?’ Heat rose up her neck and she glanced at Paul. Surely his uncle didn’t mean what she thought he was implying.
Joshua chuckled and winked. ‘It’s a grand place to cuddle on a cold winter’s night.’
Beside Joshua’s left shoulder, Paul rolled his eyes again. Apparently he’d inherited that from his mother. ‘Josh, Serena only arrived in town Tuesday morning.’
‘What, four days isn’t time enough to make your interest clear? You don’t deserve the name of Carey if you’re so slow, boy.’
Maree inserted herself between them. ‘Let me get you a drink, Serena. What would you like?’
Joshua relinquished her hand. ‘No fair, Maree. I was about to—’
‘If Serena wants to see the night lights from the Wooraroogan National Park, Paul will take her.’ She turned to her oldest son who was watching Serena intently. ‘Paul, why don’t you attend to the drinks while Josh helps me in the kitchen?’
‘It’s a sad day when a man can’t flirt a little with a pretty girl. Come on, Maree, macushla. I’ll show you how a real man …’ His voice became an indistinct murmur as the kitchen door closed behind them. The sound of china plates clattering on wood filtered through the closed door.
Paul shook his head and grinned. ‘Don’t mind Uncle Josh, he means no harm. What would you like to drink?’
‘Whatever you’re having is fine. What was that word he called your mother?’
Paul stopped in front of a tray of bottles and met her gaze. ‘Macushla? It’s an Irish word that means “my darling”.’ On Paul’s lips the soft sibilance of the word was intimate. And rather appealing.
‘Oi, Paul, pour us a beer, mate.’ Josh’s head poked around the kitchen door. His request broke the strange spell and grounded her in the simply furnished lounge room, and reminded her that Paul’s father was watching them. Paul twisted the cap off a bottle of red wine, poured a glass and handed it to her. Serena carried it across and sat beside Paul’s father and took a fortifying sip. It was full-bodied and fruity.
‘So, your family is Irish?’
‘To be sure, and we believe in leprechauns and pots of gold at the end of the rainbow.’ He raised his nearly empty stubbie and clinked it against her glass and winked. Like Paul’s, his smile banished her blues, warming and welcoming her.
He dropped the Irish accent and reverted to broad Aussie vowels. ‘Actually, we’re third generation cotton farmers. Our grandfather came out from Ireland in the early twentieth century and found the love of his life working as a laundress in Sydney. They moved out here and bought a small selection, eventually settled on growing cotton and had enough children to fill the local football team almost entirely with Careys.’
‘Did they all stay close?’
He shook his head and gestured with the hand holding his stubbie at the opposite wall filled with old black and white photos. ‘Three great uncles died in the war, one in Burma and two in New Guinea, and one great aunt. She was a nurse on the Centaur when it went down off the Queensland Coast. The younger ones headed to Sydney and never came back.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘It’s history, lass. I never knew most of them. Our father was one of two who stayed and worked the land.’
Paul handed a fresh beer to his father. ‘Gramps had a fall and is in hospital but he should be home next week. Great Uncle Rory died twenty years ago and now you know the Carey family history from the time they landed on Australian shores.’
‘What about your family, love?’ Jacob’s question was natural, the sort of innocuous question normal people asked when they met for the first time. It hung in the air while she marshalled her thoughts.
Her heart skipped a beat and then raced like an outsider horse bolting to the finish line. How could she mention the man who might be her father, and who may have nearly cost the Careys their living? ‘Mum is in Sydney. I—don’t know where my father is. Have you been to Ireland?’
Jacob’s gaze narrowed at her quick, less than subtle change of topic, but he went along with it. ‘One day. Maree has been on at me to make the trip home to my roots but the farm keeps us busy.’
Maree appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray of cheeses, dips, and crackers, which she set down near her husband’s armchair. ‘Come hell or high water we’re going next year. No ifs, buts, or maybes, Jacob Carey.’
‘We may not have the farm to worry about if things don’t get sorted soon.’ Jacob’s gaze dropped to the bottle in his hand.
‘Enough, Jake. Not now.’ Maree squeezed his shoulder. A look passed between them before Jacob patted her hand.
‘You’re right, love. Tonight is for getting to know Serena.’
Paul handed a glass of wine to his mother, who said, ‘Thanks, darling.’ She turned to Serena. ‘You wouldn’t think it possible in this day and age but the highlight of this big galoot’s travelling was one trip years ago to Brisbane. On the way home, the boys stopped in at the Byron Bay music festival.’
Lights exploded in Serena’s head like New Year’s Eve fireworks, fizzing with delight, excitement, anticipation.
Years ago … Byron Bay Music Festival … boys. Which boys? Which festival?
She had been conceived at Byron Bay—at the music festival where her mother was singing. Serena’s hand gripped her wine glass and a prickle of nerves ran down her spine as Paul’s family bantered back and forth.
Jacob Carey had visited Byron Bay years ago? How many years?
Joshua entered bearing a cob loaf surrounded by portions of torn bread on a rustic platter. ‘Damn if Maree’s warm spinach dip isn’t the best you’ll taste. Try some, Serena.’
Absently, she picked up a piece of loaf and loaded it with dip.
An appalling thought struck her and she stared at Paul’s father and uncle.
‘Could be Josh who works at the mill.’
Shar’s comment slammed through Serena’s brain with a force that made swallowing her food take all her concentration. Paul’s uncle worked at the mill. Paul’s father was Josh’s identical twin. Her father came from Mindalby and had been to the festival the year she was conceived. Hastily, she chewed and swallowed her mouthful, and placed the remainder of the morsel on a red paper serviette. Folding her hands together in her lap, she sat very straight.
‘Do you play an instrument, Jacob?’
‘A little guitar. So does Josh. I’m rather rusty these days.’
Maree perched on the arm of her husband’s chair and draped an arm over his shoulders. ‘You still play well, darling, but Sean plays the sweetest ballads you’ll ever hear, and he has the voice of an angel.’
Josh offered the dip to his brother before setting the platter on a rectangular table of pale wood. ‘Shame he didn’t make it to the festival with us. His voice would have blended well with that gorgeous redhead. Beautiful she was. What was her name, Jake?’
‘Festival? Do you mean the Byron Bay festival?’ Serena forced the words from her suddenly dry mouth.
Jacob drank before answering. ‘Yes. Years ago Byron was the place to be if you were into music. We stopped in on our way home from a cotton conference in Brisbane.’
The question snapped out of Serena sharper than she intended, but she had to know. ‘How long ago?’
Paul looked at her, curiosity clear in his gaze.
Jacob stroked his chin. ‘Nearly thirty years, I reckon.’
Maree reached for a piece of cob loaf and loaded it with dip. ‘Not quite so long. It was while I was pregnant with Hayden. Paul was fourteen or fifteen months old and running me off my feet.’
Serena pressed her hands across her stomach and swallowed the urge to throw up. Paul was two years older than she was. And they were talking in approximations of times. Approximations that swung dangerously close to fitting her time frame.
‘Come on, Jakey. The redhead, what was her name? She was sweet on me, I seem to recall.’ Josh closed his eyes as though that might help him to see better into the past.
‘You always think women like you. Let’s see, she wore a spicy perfume.’
Maree’s mouth tightened. ‘My God, Jacob Carey, I never thought I’d hear you talking about perfume. Is there something you boys forgot to tell me when you came back from Byron?’
‘No, darling. Nothing happened—’ Jacob looked at his brother and frowned.
Josh appeared unaware of the tension between Paul’s parents. He tipped his beer to his mouth then exhaled loudly. ‘Some name starting with D. Was she Donna?’
‘Not Donna. Delta?’ Jake kept his eyes on Josh.
Serena’s gaze zipped from one twin to the other. Seeking answers, seeking a father who was anyone but Frankston. Anxiety like a ball of lead sat in her stomach and she held her breath.
What if the father she’d prayed to meet turned out to be Paul’s father or uncle?
Oh, God, I kissed him. I kissed Paul. What if—
Twin voices rose in triumph as the brothers looked at one another, and grinned broadly. ‘Dawn.’