Beautiful Lies (36 page)

“So I'm told.”

“I just thought if I didn't take the bull by the horns, I'd never meet you.”

Roman's scowl lines deepened. “Did you stop to think I might not want to meet you?”

“Sure. That seemed likely, as a matter of fact.”

“But you made the trip anyway? You lied and ran away and made the trip anyway?”

“I'm not a troublemaker. You can ask anybody. It's just that sometimes things are too important to leave up to other people.”

“How did you get here?”

“I'm not proud of this part.” Matthew squirmed a little under Roman's gaze.

“Go on.”

“Well, I used a credit card of my mother's to buy the ticket. I'll pay her back every cent—and interest, too—I swear. She canceled the card, or thought she did, but I found the letter before it went out. I bought the ticket on the Internet. She won't check that card until her—”

Roman's eyes narrowed to slits. “I have the picture.”

“I used a friend's passport, and got my visa in his name.”

“You lied, cheated, robbed your own mum. You're a disgrace.”

“Maybe. And maybe I'm just a kid who's tired of grown-ups who ignore me and decide what's best without asking how I feel about it. I have a family, only I hardly get to see my dad, and I've
never
seen you. I was born in Australia. I want to know who I am and where I come from.
And—” He stopped himself just in time. He wasn't ready to finish this explanation.

“You're going to ring your mum right now. And then I'm sending you straight back. With an escort, if I have to.”

“You can do that.” Matthew looked his grandfather straight in the eye. “Or you can let me spend a day here. What's one day, sir? I've waited my whole life to meet you. I'll call and leave word for my mother that I'm still all right. I've never wanted to worry her. But I came for another reason, and if you send me away, I'll never be able to tell you what it is.”

“You're like your father, aren't you? You think you can talk your way out of anything.”

Matthew was slow to anger, but now he could feel it building inside him. “I hope I'm like him. He's the finest man in the world. Of course, you'd hardly know, would you, since you don't speak to him anymore.”

Roman's hand slashed through the air in disgust. “You don't know what you're talking about.”

Matthew stepped closer, anger flaming faster. “Oh yes I do. I know it all. I know my dad had a gambling problem. I know he made serious mistakes. I just hope I take after
him
when I grow up and not you, because I'm going to make plenty of mistakes in my life. And when I do, I want to be as sorry about them as he is and work just as hard to make them right!”

“You've made a big mistake coming here.”

“No, I haven't. Because I had to find out where I came from. And who I came from. And now I know.”

Roman stepped closer, too. For a moment Matthew wondered if his grandfather would hit him. They faced off like opponents in a boxing ring. Then Roman shook his head. He turned and walked back the way he had come. At the end of the hallway he turned.

“Come inside. And bring the girl. Winnie will feed you, then you can shower. When you've finished, come to my office.” He turned away.

Matthew spoke before his grandfather could disappear. “Sir, my parents will never let me go anywhere again after this. This may be the only chance we'll ever have together.”

“It's one more chance than I wanted, boy.” Roman disappeared, and Matthew was alone.

R
oman had a framed mirror in his office for those rare occasions when he had to comb his hair before greeting visitors. He'd had government officials at Jimiramira, politicians, men from the police and armed forces. For all practical purposes he was the mayor of a small town, and no matter how many people hired on to help him, there were some things other men couldn't do.

Like be Matthew Llewellyn's grandfather.

He stared at his own reflection and saw exactly what Matthew had seen. Bitterness. Cynicism. Detachment.

The brass mirror had been his wife's, and he had kept it on this wall for the nearly thirty years since her death. Joan had been a Darwin girl, a city she'd loved so well she had named their only child after Cullen Bay, where she had picnicked as a girl. And although she had never whined about the hardships of the never-never, Joan had cherished pretty things. He had kept other mementos. Her silver comb and brush, the odd piece of jewelry, the wildflowers—paper and poached egg daisies, running postman,
Sturt's desert pea—she had carefully dried and framed after the Wet.

But God help him, he had not kept their son, Joan's most beloved possession. After the cancer had taken her, Roman had abandoned Cullen as surely as if he had trotted him off to an orphanage. Immersed in his own sorrow, beyond consolation, he had sunk further into himself until eventually he hadn't been able to find his way back.

He knew these things now. Almost twenty years had passed since he had seen Cullen. No day went by that he didn't think of his son, or the mess the boy had made of his life because he hadn't had a father to guide him. No day passed that Roman didn't feel the deepest regret. Yet he didn't know what he could do about any of it. He was like the land he tended, remote and arid. Like Jimiramira, he did not recover easily from injury, and he suffered change with deep, abiding hostility.

Where was Cullen now? Was he frantic that Matthew had gone missing? The boy imagined his parents had been satisfied with a message that he was fine, but Roman knew better. He was a father, too. He knew how it felt to lose a son.

A knock sounded on his door, although it was too soon for the intruder to be Matthew. He growled a reply, and the door swung open. Winnie, hands on hips, stood on the threshold, staring daggers at him.

“If you send this boy away, I will go with him.” She took one hand off her hip long enough to shake a finger at him. “Do you hear me, Roman Llewellyn? I will leave, and I'll take my Harold with me. Then what will you do? Who'll put up with you, I ask you?”

“Woman, this is none of your affair.”

She wasn't cowed. “I run this house and everyone inside it. And my Harold's your manager. We come as close
to knowing you as anyone. You have a chance to set things right at last. And I'll be damned if I'll let you waste it.”

No other human being could have talked to Roman that way, but Winnie had been with him long enough to think she was safe. Routine was everything to him, and she knew he would do nearly anything to keep her from leaving.

He felt unsuccessfully in his pockets for tobacco. “What's the boy doing now?”

“He and that girl tucked into a plate of sausages like they hadn't eaten in a week. Did you ask how he got here?”

“No.”

“Did you ask who
she
is?”

“No—I—didn't.”

“Well, I think I know.”

Roman didn't care. He had enough trouble just thinking about his grandson. “What does it matter, anyhow?”

“You know Robby Simmons, don't you?”

“Robby Simmons from over at Coolibah Downs? Damned fine stockman.”

“The same, only that was years ago, which shows how much you know. Presently he and his missus have a small property over at Humpty Doo. Orchards, I believe.”

“What does Robby have to do with the girl?”

Winnie had deep lines in her leathery skin. Now they fanned out from her pursed lips like the rays of a spider web. “Daughter of Robby's disappeared around Christmas last year. I heard all about it when I was in Darwin visiting my family.”

Roman's growl could have meant anything.

“I saw a photograph in the newspaper while I was there, and this girl seems familiar to me,” Winnie said, unperturbed. “Better yet, the Simmons girl was named Patricia,
but her family called her Patty. This girl calls herself Tricia. I'm fair certain it's her.”

“What do you plan to do about it?”

“What should I do?”

Roman didn't want her to do anything. He understood horses and cattle and working dogs. He could drill a bore, yard a mob, build a fence guaranteed to frustrate dingoes or cattle duffers. He understood international finance and veterinary medicine. But he didn't understand kids.

“I suppose you'd best ring up Robby,” he said at last. “He'd expect it.”

“I suppose I'd best.” She hesitated. “And the boy?”

Roman was silent.

“Didn't he come far enough to suit you?”

“You're overstepping yourself, Winnie.”

“No, I'm not,
Roman.
”

He glared at her. Until today he had always been Mr. Llewellyn. Unperturbed, she pointed her finger at him. “Act like the boss, then I'll treat you as such.”

“You've turned a bit cheeky, haven't you?”

“Not soon enough.” She turned on her heel and strode away.

Roman didn't know what to make of the change in Winnie, but the change in himself was more upsetting. He had learned to live with Joan's death and Cullen's estrangement. He cushioned his emotions by creeping carefully along the same paths, never daring to venture into forbidden territory. And just as he'd always feared, in this new, unexplored wilderness he was reminded of everything he had tried so hard to forget.

Half an hour later he was staring at papers on his desk when someone knocked on his door. He knew without asking who was there. At his shouted acknowledgment the
door opened. Matthew, hair wet from the shower, strolled in as if he were as comfortable here as he was in bloody California.

“Well, I feel better. How about you?”

Roman looked down at his papers again, pretending Matthew had interrupted something other than soul-searching. “I'm not the one who ate lashings of sausages.”

“They're different from the ones we have at home. But they taste familiar. Maybe I had them when I was a kid.”

“You are a kid.”

“A little kid. When I lived in Australia. Did you ever visit me? Is that something I've forgotten, too?”

“No.” Roman fully expected him to ask why not. The boy seemed to have little patience with tact. Roman supposed he had inherited that from Cullen.

“That's a shame,” Matthew said. “I'm told I wasn't too bad, as little kids go. But not everyone likes kids. Some people like teenagers better.”

Roman couldn't pretend any longer. Every word the boy uttered went straight through his heart. “I didn't visit because your dad and I pugged up our relationship so thoroughly there was no turning back. He wouldn't have wanted me.”

“You asked him?”

“I don't have to. I'm his father.”

“Do you know how much he misses you?”

“He knows where I live.”

“But he doesn't know you want to see him again.”

“I don't.”

The boy walked to the window and stared outside. “I know about Jimiramira. About Archer and Bryce. I know more about them than I do about you.”

Roman was surprised. He hadn't been much for telling
Cullen stories, particularly not about his family. He wondered exactly where Cullen had gotten information. “Your father told you?”

“Well, no.”

“Your mother?”

“No, she doesn't know all the parts I do, and my dad probably doesn't, either. It was my aunt. Mei Fong. She lived here once, when your father was still a young man, and Archer and Viola were alive. She was here when Jimiramira burned to the ground.”

Roman was caught off guard. He had expected something different from the boy. A lecture, perhaps, on his duty as grandfather. Or anger. An attempt to shame him. But never a discussion of family history.

“You have me thoroughly confused,” Roman said. “Why would an aunt of yours live here?”

“Great-aunt. She's my grandfather's sister. Grandfather Robeson, that is. But I don't remember him very well. He didn't like kids, either. That's one reason I had to come here and meet you. You're the only grandfather I have left.”

“One reason?”

“There
is
another,” Matthew said.

Roman could feel his carefully orchestrated life falling apart. An abyss was opening at his feet, and he was certain that if he commented on anything Matthew had said, or asked even a single question, he would plummet straight to the bottom.

“It's time you rang your mother, boy, and told her you're coming straight home. If you're trying to find a way to stay longer…”

“I'll call her. Only I'm not going home. Not yet. I have something I have to do first. Then I'll go home, and they probably won't let me leave again until I'm twenty-one.
They'll hire a guard. Chain me to the bed.” He flashed a grin that reminded Roman so strongly of Cullen that for a moment he was dizzied by it. “My dad will have to come to California to see me.” Matthew sobered. “That won't be much fun.”

“Why not?” The words were out before Roman could stop them.

“He and my mother barely speak. Lots of my friends have divorced parents. Some of them scream and yell at each other, so I guess Mom and Dad are better than that. But I don't know what would happen if they had to be in the same house for very long.”

Roman decided to put one theory to the test. “You didn't run away because you hoped they'd get back together?”

Matthew looked genuinely surprised. “Are you joking?”

“No, I'm trying to find out why you showed up on my doorstep.”

“I guess that's easy enough, Granddad. Because you never showed up on mine.”

 

Matthew was surprised when his grandfather left him alone in the office to make the phone call to his mother. Roman set up the radiophone to make the call, dialed the number Matthew gave him, then disappeared when the phone began to ring. But the door was left ajar, and Matthew knew his grandfather was making sure he went through with it.

He listened for the familiar voice-mail message, then he spoke. “Hi, Mom. This is Matthew. I'm safe, and I'm doing fine.”

He saw a shadow lengthen just outside the door and knew he would be required to do better than that or his grandfather would quickly reappear. “I'm in Australia. I
know I'm not supposed to be here, and I knew if I came when Dad was here you'd think that he'd put me up to it. So that's why I left while he was in America. I had to come. I had to see where I came from. I'm flying back home in a couple of days….”

At that he wondered if his grandfather was going to come charging back into the room, and he hurried on. “And I'm going to pay you back every cent the ticket cost with interest. You can take what I have in the bank as a start. I'm really sorry, but nobody seems to understand how important this is.” He hesitated. “I'm sorry you aren't there, Mom. But maybe it's better if we don't talk until I come back. Then you'll have all the time in the world to tell me what you think, because I doubt I'll be leaving the house for a long, long time.”

Matthew imagined Liana, her head bent low over the telephone as she listened, her eyes glistening with tears. His own throat felt tight. “I love you.” His voice deepened. “Mom, if you talk to Dad anytime soon, tell him I love him, too.”

He wondered why he felt so sentimental when his mother wouldn't even be the one—at least, not the first—to hear the call. He had given his grandfather the Pacific International number and left the message there because he was afraid if he left it at home the call might be easier to trace. Tomorrow a secretary or assistant would get the call at the beginning of a harried business day. If he was really lucky, it might be misdirected or even ignored for a while. Someone might even assume it was just a wrong number. He had been careful not to give his mother's name. He hung up, just as his grandfather came back into the room.

Matthew stood. “She wasn't there, but I left her a message.”

“And you told her where you were?”

“I told her I was in Australia.” He waited for his grandfather to question him further, but Roman just looked stern.

“Have you met Tricia?” Matthew hoped a change of subject would be good for both of them.

“I'll ring up your mother myself later in the day. You haven't got away with anything, boy.”

Matthew was sorry to hear it.

“Now, suppose you tell me about this girl you've brought along.”

Matthew had mulled over what he should say about Tricia. He wanted her to go home. He was afraid that if she didn't, he would regret not telling his grandfather the whole story. But after everything they had been through, he also felt a certain loyalty.

“Just tell me the straight-up truth of it,” Roman prompted.

“I don't know everything,” Matthew said carefully. “I met her in Sydney. I…lost the money I had with me, and she had just lost her place to live. So we…decided to travel together. She knows the Territory, and I knew she'd be a help.”

“Lost the money?”

Matthew tried not to squirm. Any moment now he might have to choose between lies and betrayal. “Somebody took my wallet. I got it back, but most of the money was gone.”

Roman grimaced. “The girl have something to do with that?”

“Tricia's okay. You don't have to worry about her.” Matthew hoped it was true.

“Does she have a surname?”

“She must, but she's never mentioned it.”