Paul tipped over the edge and plummeted down the slope of that damned emotional rollercoaster into an abyss so black and dark, he’d never see the light of day again.
Frankston’s daughter?
Shock glued his feet to the floor. The bench held him upright.
He’d fallen for Frankston’s daughter.
Blindly he groped for something, anything, to break the nightmare of her revelation.
‘I’m so sorry. I should have told you, but—’
He heard the scrape of her stool, the tapping of her heels on the floor, the door opening.
‘Why didn’t you?’ He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t bear to see those green eyes, the same colour as Frankston’s—her father, oh God.
‘Because you already had a lot to deal with. I didn’t want to add to your troubles.’
‘You came to my home, met my family—my father. How could you? And at the picnic Dad collapsed because you let that bastard near him.’ Serena’s betrayal numbed him, angered him. She’d made him care for her, and brought harm to those he loved. Worse, she’d done it deliberately, knowingly.
It was unforgivable.
Anger simmered low in his belly. ‘It isn’t a coincidence that both you and your father arrived on the same day, is it? What was this, part of his grand plan to get revenge on my family for giving him what he deserved?’
‘No, I didn’t know him, I don’t know him. Paul, I’m not like him. I just want—’
‘Get out of my workshop, Serena. Get out of Mindalby and out of my life.’
A low gasp, a whispered, ‘I’m sorry,’ and the door closed softly behind her.
Paul slumped on the stool. How close had he come to being suckered by another Frankston? The sob story about looking for her father had sure pulled him in. Why hadn’t he questioned her arrival in town on the same day as Frankston?
He thumped the table and stared through the window as the sound of her car engine faded.
Dammit. No more entanglements with Frankston and his family. The blinkers had come off and he was going to throw all his energy into getting the co-op up and running.
That would put a stop to Frankston and his daughter. To their plans of revenge on the Careys and Mindalby.
He breathed deeply. The scent of strawberry filled his lungs. The scent of Serena. Caring, kind Serena who had travelled to Sydney on his behalf and got him a buyer who—
Was that part of an elaborate hoax too? Another of Frankston’s schemes, part of the fraudster’s revenge?
He pushed away from the bench and strode into the bedroom, grabbed an overnight bag and threw in toiletries and a change of clothes. He’d sort out next season’s cotton seeds and meet the man from the Cotton Board.
If he existed.
And put as much distance between himself and the Frankstons as possible. He rubbed his chest above his stupid heart. It ached for his loss.
But how could he lose what he’d never had?
Switching off the lights, he walked through the workshop and pulled the door shut. He paused with his hand on the knob, then dug into his pocket for his keys and locked the door. No point in being careless with a Frankston in town.
He dumped his bag on the passenger seat and started his engine.
First stop, Bourke.
***
‘Welcome back!’ Dawn opened her arms wide.
Serena stepped into her mother’s familiar embrace and burst into tears. Great noisy, gulping sobs shuddered through her body.
‘I saw him, Mum. I did what you said and told him …’
‘Oh, my darling girl, come inside. Trish has the kettle on and it’s toasty warm in the lounge room.’ Her mother took her hand and drew her down the hallway, opened the lounge door and stepped aside.
Aware of another person standing by the fireplace, Serena wiped a hand under her nose and patted her eyes on her sleeve. ‘I need to freshen up.’
‘Later. This is important, and I have a suspicion it’s relevant right now.’
Sean Flynn rested one hand on the mantelpiece and watched as her mother drew her into the room. Compassion shone in his eyes but there was something else. Something familiar. The woodworker had shaved off his beard, and his strong chin and jawline were visible.
Dawn drew her across to the fire. ‘Sean is my Starman. He’s your father.’
From the depths of her misery, something clicked into place inside Serena, like a missing piece of a jigsaw. After all these years, was it truly possible her family was united at last?
‘Hello, Serena. I hope this isn’t too much of a shock for you.’
A strangled sob robbed her of speech and she flung her arms around Sean’s neck.
Sean’s arms—her father’s arms—wrapped her against his chest.
‘Dad?’ She stepped back and wiped her cheeks. ‘I love that word.’
Sean chuckled. ‘I love hearing it on your lips—daughter of my heart.’
Sniffling and thrilled and disbelieving at the same time, she stepped back and looked from one to the other. ‘Tell me all about how you found each another. Why didn’t you tell me after the performance at the picnic?’
And why hadn’t she come here first, before calling in to see Paul?
But now she knew the worst.
Paul was like Max after all. He didn’t care enough about her as a person to see past her supposed parentage. Her heart didn’t know whether to shrivel up at his betrayal, or lock him out and focus on her father, newly-found and everything she’d ever imagined him to be.
The three of them sat side by side on the sofa. Wedged between both of her parents, it was as though one part of her world had righted itself.
‘May I, Dawn?’ Her father looked to her mother for permission to take up their story.
Dawn nodded. ‘She needs to hear your story now, not another retelling of mine.’
‘I came to Australia from my home in County Cork when I was twenty. I had family here. You’ve met them, I think—the Careys?’
Some of her happiness diminished at mention of Paul’s family name. Not that it mattered now. She was related to Paul, albeit less closely than she’d imagined. And she’d lost the man she’d fallen in love with. Admitting that now was bittersweet.
‘They’re a lovely family.’
‘Aye, they’re grand folks. And they took me in and offered me work. There was little employment in Ireland, but Joe Carey—he’s your Paul’s grandfather—wrote to my pa inviting me to come work on the cotton farm.
‘Jake and Josh were supposed to meet me at the Brisbane airport after their conference, but me being the young idjit I was then, I broke my flight for a stopover in Bali. When I landed in Brisbane, customs hauled me in. Ye see, I was a bit of a rebel in those days—hair in a Mohawk, Balinese sandals on my feet—and they weren’t keen to let me into the country. Lucky I had Joe’s letter as proof I had a job waiting or I think they’d have put me on the next plane out.’
Dawn reached across Serena and squeezed his hand. ‘Fate wasn’t going to keep us apart, was it?’
‘Anyway, my cousins waited and waited and finally decided I wasn’t on the flight and left. They did leave a message, just in case, saying they were going home via Byron Bay so I hitchhiked my way down to the festival, only to find I’d missed them once more. But I found your mother and spent the best three days of my life with her.’
‘That’s brilliant. But why Starman?’
Dawn laughed. ‘We both loved Bowie’s music and Sean’s hairstyle at the time was quirky so he became Starman to my Aurora. And I guess that, along with our pseudonyms, we both looked different enough when we met again at the picnic that neither of us was sure. My chemo had taken its toll and all that facial fuzz your father had grown threw me. It was only after we visited Sean at the commune that I started wondering about him, and then things slowly fell into place.’
Misty-eyed, Serena put an arm around each of her parents’ shoulders and drew them into a family hug like those she had imagined as a child. Their story was the stuff of family legend. ‘Wait a minute, you said cousins. Are you first cousins with Paul’s father?’
Sean—Dad—she wondered how long before that delicious name became second nature on her tongue—shook his head. ‘I’m no good at working all that stuff out. I guess either second or third cousins.’
‘Not first cousins?’
‘Definitely not first.’ Dawn was firm in her dismissal of the notion. ‘Jake’s and Josh’s children, if he had any, would be first cousins. Sean is a distant cousin of theirs, so you and Paul are sufficiently removed that any … involvement between the pair of you is perfectly fine.’
Her father grinned. ‘I should warn you about the Carey-Flynn men.’
‘What do you mean?’
Dawn interrupted. ‘They’ll worm their way into your heart and your bed quicker than you can say Blarney Castle.’
‘Mum!’
‘Look at the pair of us, both fallen for the same type of man in less time than it takes to whistle Tipperary.’
And both had lost the men they’d fallen in love with. Was that a family trait too? She was thrilled for her parents. Finding one another after so long was pretty amazing, but the way she’d lost Paul—
The coffee she’d drunk at her last stop on the drive back to Mindalby turned sour in her stomach. There was no coming back from that sort of rejection. If she wasn’t enough for Paul in spite of who they had thought her father to be, then he wasn’t the man she’d thought him to be. She wouldn’t spoil this family reunion with another meltdown, not for anything in the world. Dragging a breath into her aching chest, she hugged her mother again.
Trish entered carrying a large redwood tray laden with her rose-patterned china and teapot. ‘Is now a good time for tea?’
‘Aye, that’s grand. Allow me.’ Sean rose and took the tray from her and set it on the coffee table.
Trish poured cups of tea and offered a plate of rich fruit cake. ‘Well, I guess all your smiles mean good news?’
Dawn’s grin grew wider. ‘The best. Serena has found her father.’
Trish spluttered, and looked from Sean to Dawn. ‘You mean …? Oh dear. I hope you’ll forget any inappropriate comments I may have made.’
‘Oh, Trish, I’m delighted to know I’ll be the envy of many women in Mindalby when they enjoy that view.’
‘Mum?’ Unease prickled down Serena’s spine. Maybe she was more tired than she realised but her mother’s comment sounded suspiciously like—‘Are you thinking of staying in Mindalby?’
‘Not precisely. Sean has invited me to move in with him. I’ll be moving out to the commune tomorrow.’