Shadows of wildstone, p.5
Shadows of Wildstone, page 5
With her breath caught, she cleared it from her throat. ‘Caleb, hi.’ It was all she could manage to say in the head-spinning, heart-tumbling moment. And as their eyes met in a kind of embrace, they shared a silent conversation in a sea of unspoken words.
‘Hey, Nyah.’ His hand came to briefly brush her back. ‘I’m so sorry about…’ his voice trailed off, ‘…everything.’
Everything?
She felt her walls fortify against him, brick by emotional brick. Once her confidant, her mate and, after they’d shared their first kiss, her loving boyfriend for almost two years, then her biggest heartbreak when she’d had to leave Wildstone, he was now a reminder of all things that lay unresolved. And what was he apologising for, exactly? Her mum’s death? Cutting her out of his life completely? Not figuring out what happened to her sister? The unspoken tension between them hung thick in the air, refusing to dissipate.
‘Nyah…’ He said her name with the cadence of a question.
‘It’s okay.’ She tried to ignore her clenched heart while finding herself increasingly unable to look directly into his deep brown eyes. ‘Don’t be sorry.’ And she meant it.
‘I can’t help it, because I am…’ He tugged the brim of his black hat down as he cleared his throat. ‘Deeply sorry.’ His clenched jaw betrayed his cool, calm composure.
His words were so earnest, so unexpected, so profoundly simple yet powerful, that she couldn’t conjure up a worthy response. So they just stood there side by side, unspeaking but comprehending each other in a way that only former lovers could, both watching as an elderly couple, mere blurs in Nyah’s childhood memories, approached the coffin with hands clenched together. They whispered condolences into the air, but their words oddly fell short of sincerity. What Nyah sensed wasn’t the absence of genuine sentiment, but rather the unspoken acknowledgment that Claire had been a force of division to many, a hindrance to some, and a talking point to almost all. Bearing witness to her mother’s lingering legacy, Nyah felt her knees wanting to give way but, taking comfort in the tall man standing stoically beside her and their long familiarity, she stood steely still as she observed one mourner after another drifting forward, their shadows lengthening across the lawn as if beckoning her to join in the ritual of farewell. But she wasn’t stepping forward, not here and not now, for she was an outsider looking in on this communal grieving process. She knew her place; her mother had made her very aware of it, and it wasn’t in Wildstone.
Next, a man in a crumpled suit hesitated before the casket, his hand hovering just above the polished wood, much like her own heart seemed to be. His eyes closing, he mouthed inaudible sentences, as if reluctant to acknowledge the finality of a goodbye. Suddenly realising who he was, she swallowed down hard, her hands clenching together as she witnessed her primary school teacher and former neighbour hover despairingly. The past thirteen years had wearied William Keller in a way she’d never imagined possible, given that he’d always been a strong, strapping man, as had his slightly older brother, Nate, who was nowhere to be seen. She stifled a rising sob as more memories surfaced. She and Skye had always found William nice enough—as for his wooden spoon–wielding mother and oddball brother, not so much. Catching sight of a ray of sunshine, she turned her gaze away from the coffin as she remained rooted to the spot, her raw emotions gathering and tethering her. Her relationship with her mother had become a thorny path, overgrown with brambles of regret and misunderstanding. Once she’d believed they may find a way through, but now she knew she’d never be able to get rid of the weeds.
‘I’ve got you, Ny.’ Caleb’s gentle yet commanding voice wavered into her consciousness as he called her by the name he’d used long ago.
Blinking faster, she offered him a quivering smile of acknowledgment as she shifted her gaze from the expansive green of the Wildstone Cemetery and back to the sombre sight of her mother’s coffin. It stood unambiguously against Mother Nature’s raw beauty, a symbol of finality and loss. Blinking back a sudden flood of hot tears, she fought to remain composed as the priest read the final rite and committed her mother’s body to the earth. And once the coffin had been lowered, the mourners congregated, their hushed murmurs rippling through the air. But none dared to approach her, and she was glad of the fact. Instead, she stood among the living as if she were a ghost, haunting the edges of her own life and watching the sorrowful scene play out before her like a movie. She oddly felt both intimately connected to and completely detached from the gathering, as if she were a mere observer rather than an active participant. And as the final chapter of Claire’s life ended under the vast expanse of the Australian sky, she couldn’t help but feel an eerie presence lingering.
Caleb remained beside her, appearing strong and stoic, but she could see through his facade—the clench in his jaw and the avoidance in his gaze, as if he feared revealing too much in a single glance. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, savouring the dry country air, wishing it could cleanse her of the heavy emotions pressing down on her. Because right now, in front of all these people and their judging gazes, she longed to be the resilient woman who worked with troubled children, who danced fearlessly like no one was watching, who’d tried to move on with her life.
But she felt like a lonely, lost, broken child.
Caleb’s reassuring hand rose and fell gently on her arm, the touch pulling at the edges of her composure. In a soul-connecting moment their eyes fleetingly met until she turned away from him, her tear-blurred gaze falling on the sun-scorched hills that cradled Wildstone like weathered hands. The brittle, brown grass dotting its rugged terrain sighed of droughts weathered and seasons endured, much like the scars she carried within.
‘Your mother would’ve been pleased with the turnout,’ Caleb said softly, breaking through the hum of hushed conversations around them.
His voice held so much comfort, just as it had when they were younger, when he would soothe her worries with just a few words or a simple all-encompassing smile.
‘Maybe,’ she whispered, her words catching on a memory of high-spirited laughter—hers and Caleb’s—when they used to gallop across the land, carefree and unburdened, sometimes bareback, quite often still wet from a dunk in the local watering hole.
‘Wildstone hasn’t been the same without you,’ he continued, nudging a pebble with his boot—a simple gesture that brought back memories of how innocent elbow nudges had once led to chortling races, which had eventually steered them to breathless confessions under a canopy of stars.
‘I don’t know about that.’ Her words floated like a feather upon the breeze.
He took a step closer, his all-too-familiar masculine warmth radiating, his mere presence providing a stark contrast to the chill of loss that clung to her skin like icy fingers. ‘Hope told me you achieved your dream of becoming a child psychologist,’ he said proudly. ‘Apparently you follow each other on Facebook.’
‘Yes, I sure did, and I see you’re following in your dad’s footsteps, Officer Hart.’
‘Uh-huh, and I love it.’ He offered a slight smile. ‘I bet you’ll be making a real difference to those kids’ lives, Nyah.’
‘Trying to,’ she replied, her thoughts drifting to the children she counselled, each one mirroring her own fractured youth in one way or another. ‘Are you still riding iron horses?’ It was all she could think of to steer the conversation to lighter subjects.
‘Every chance I get.’ His chuckle rumbled low, stirring up the dust from old roads between them. ‘And if it’s not my Ducati, I’m in the saddle any chance I get.’
She nodded, and for a lengthy moment they stood together yet apart, two people moulded by the same winds but shaped into different forms. But then the comfortable silence stretched and became heavy, until she forcibly looked up and met his gaze, and in those sharp brown eyes she saw the reflection of their shared sorrow.
‘Skye,’ she breathed before she could stop herself, the name of her little sister unlocking a door long closed. ‘Do you ever…?’
‘Every day,’ he answered before she could finish, his voice holding firm with a resolve that hadn’t wavered over the years. ‘I haven’t stopped looking for answers, Nyah.’
Fresh tears threatened to spill, the wellsprings of grief and gratitude mixing like torrents in her heart. The fact that he still searched for Skye, that he still cared enough to hold out hope, bridged the cavernous distance between them for a fragile moment.
The weight of his gaze was palpable, but she kept her eyes fixed on the horizon. ‘Thank you.’
‘No need to thank me,’ he replied. ‘Her file is still on my desk and will be until we discover what happened that day.’
‘Have there been any new leads?’ Her question hung between them, tinged with a glimmer of hope.
Caleb shook his head slowly, deep regret etching his brow. ‘No, but I haven’t given up. We owe it to Skye, and to you, to keep looking.’ He kept his voice low, as if afraid prying ears were listening.
‘Well, I hope you uncover the truth,’ she conceded, her throat tight and her eyes filled with unshed tears. ‘But then again, some truths are buried too deep, and some people…’ she paused, her gaze slipping away from his, ‘…aren’t ready to dig them up.’
‘Trust me, I’m going to keep on digging, no matter how deep I need to go.’
‘Thank you,’ she said once again, her genuine gratitude mixed with the weight of the unsolved mystery. ‘I often wonder if she’s still out there, living her life, none the wiser to how she was snatched from us.’ Her gaze drifted to the horizon, where the land met the sky in an eternal embrace. ‘And if, by some miracle, that’s the case, if she remembers us at all.’
‘Wherever she is, I’m sure she hasn’t forgotten you,’ Caleb reassured her, though his gaze ached with the comprehension that some questions might never find their answers.
‘Unlike what people like to say, I’ve learnt that time doesn’t heal all wounds,’ she replied softly, more to herself than to Caleb, her voice carrying a deep sense of resignation and pain. ‘It just makes them easier to hide.’
‘Maybe some wounds aren’t meant to be hidden,’ Caleb countered, his voice barely above the whispering wind. His hand hovered in the space between them, as if searching for a connection that could bridge the distance of years and heartaches.
Unable to speak for fear of sobbing, she looked to the snip toes of her boots as her heart swung like a pendulum between the past and the present. As the mourners began to drift away she felt the palpable weight of solitude descend upon her but, thankfully, Caleb’s presence lingered at the edge of her vision. Should she be the one to break this moment of interwoven companionship? Before they stepped over some invisible line? She hesitated, one foot resting on the path that led from the cemetery back to the world of the living, and the other wanting to pull closer to him.
* * *
Sensing Nyah’s inner turmoil and finding himself unable to keep so much distance between them, Caleb took a deliberate step towards her, his movements exuding the same sense of purpose he brought to every case he worked on, every life he sought to protect. Then, satisfied he was close enough to let her know he had her, if she needed him to, he paused, took a breath, then steadied his racing heart.
‘Will you stay in Wildstone for a while longer?’ he asked, his gaze searching hers as he interlocked the fingers craving to tuck wisps of stray hair behind her ears.
Nyah’s hand absently traced the outline of the birthmark on the back of her neck, a mark he had traced with his fingertips, and lips, many times. ‘Yeah, for a little bit. There are things I need to sort out before I go home to Cairns,’ she replied, her eyes fixed on the horizon. ‘But it’s hard, being here. Much harder than I’d thought it was going to be.’
‘Let me help,’ he swiftly offered, needing, wanting her to stay indefinitely. ‘Whatever you need.’
She offered a half-smile. ‘That’s kind of you, Caleb, but these are things I need to do on my own.’
‘All good.’ He nodded understandingly, respecting her space. ‘Just know I’ll be here if you need me. Anytime, day or night, okay?’
‘Thanks, I really appreciate that.’ She raised her hand to touch him, but dropped it back to her side before she could.
They stood in silence for a few more moments, two figures etched against the backdrop of the rugged Australian countryside, their histories intertwined and their futures uncertain. In the distance, the warble of a magpie pierced through the heavy silence, its sweet melody serving as a poignant reminder that life went on beyond the grip of death.
‘I best be off.’ She smiled sadly, her gaze barely meeting his. ‘Thank you for standing with me; it means a lot.’
‘I’m always here for you.’ Every single syllable of his five words held an immeasurable depth.
‘See you.’ She took one last deep breath before turning away.
‘Round like a rissole,’ he replied instinctively.
Her budding smile as she looked over her shoulder was the most beautiful sight, and it left him breathless, wordless. Even though he wanted to run after her and take her into his arms, he remained in the stillness of the graveyard, his eyes tracing the path of her retreat. Her dark curls swayed with the breeze that carried through the rows of headstones as she walked away from him. With an aching hunger to love her, he watched her disappear along with another piece of his heart and, for an odd moment, he felt like an outsider in his hometown.
He was still deeply in love with Nyah, despite the passing years.
Of that he was certain.
More memories flooded his mind, ones of laughter and shared dreams under starry skies. With time slowing, stopping, then rewinding, he could almost feel the warmth of her next to him on their many nights spent camping beneath the Milky Way and Southern Cross. And with the kaleidoscope of recollections, his heart ached with both sorrow and determination. He completely understood why Nyah had built walls around herself, after she’d been through so much, but he couldn’t suppress his desire to offer her comfort and support, even if it meant facing his own painful past.
‘Life certainly knows how to test us,’ he muttered beneath his breath.
Despite everything, he made a silent vow to stand by her side—not just as an officer assigned to her sister’s cold case, but as the man who held on to her heart long after the romance of their teen years had ended. Their exchange had been brief, and not under good circumstances, but it had ignited a spark within him, along with a glimmer of the possibility that not all was lost. This new chapter of their lives remained open-ended, with pages fluttering in the wind; how it was to be written, he hadn’t a clue, but he’d give it his best shot to make sure their future story was a good one.
Even if that meant a life of friendship.
And not of the eternal love he craved to share with her.
CHAPTER
5
The oppressive hum of the air conditioner was the only sound that greeted Nyah as she stepped into the lawyer’s office, a sterile sanctuary of order far removed from the tangled mess of her thoughts. As the door snapped shut behind her, she involuntarily shuddered at the icy blast of air that skated over her skin, the sensation reminding her of the frosty chill that had settled in her heart. Easing past the deserted reception desk so she could peer down the hallway, she heard her every sandalled step snap loudly against the tiled floor and echo through the stark space. The scent of timber polish mingled with the faint mustiness of old books, creating an odd but somehow fitting aroma.
‘Hello?’ Patiently waiting for a response, she flicked her gaze over the walls that were lined with diplomas.
A door creaked open and a short, chubby man with a comb-over appeared, his glasses perched low on his red-mottled nose. ‘Miss Love?’ His voice carried down the hall.
‘Yes, that’s me.’ She nodded, her smile professional.
‘Please, come this way.’ He gestured for her to follow him, leading her to a large, imposing mahogany desk.
Taking a seat in one of the leather chairs positioned in front of it, she couldn’t help but feel like she was on trial. Sitting opposite her, the lawyer moved with precision and purpose as he dug into a folder then presented her with an envelope that read The Last Will and Testament of Claire Gertrude Johnson. So, her mother had legally taken her maiden name again.
‘Your responsibilities,’ he began, his tone devoid of warmth but not compassion, ‘will include the settling of your mother’s affairs.’ Over the rim of his glasses, he watched her closely, as if searching for any sign of emotion cracking through her stoic facade.
Grasping the edge of her chair, she offered him no insight into her tumultuous emotions, remaining passive in the face of this daunting task.
‘Your mother also left this for you.’ He slid another envelope towards her.
With hands that betrayed none of her inner turmoil, she accepted the letter, the handwritten script visible through the envelope’s thin face. She turned it front to back. On the outside it was blank, although its weight seemed incongruent with its size, heavy with possible implications and unspoken confessions. She brushed her fingers against the edges, coarse and slightly frayed, like the remnants of their bond worn thin by years of estrangement and silence. Wondering if her mother’s words were to be scathing, or perhaps contrite, she found herself staring at it, her heart pounding.
‘I’m not privy to what exactly is said,’ he continued, as if reading her mind. ‘Your mother did mention that it has something to do with…’ he paused, cleared his throat, adjusted his glasses, ‘your sister’s disappearance.’
She had no control over her sharp intake of breath.
Skye.
The name always came as a whisper, a ghost slipping through the cracks of her defences. Tears stung the corners of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall as she summoned all the strength she’d cultivated over years of grieving and hardship. This, right here, was a direct line to a woman consumed by bitterness, with possible clues to a mystery that had overshadowed her family for far too long.
