Beautiful Lies (42 page)

“Because you didn't send me home when I showed you the pearl.”

“I'm a flaming idiot.”

Matthew grinned. “Runs in the family, huh? So why don't you and my father speak to each other?”

Roman didn't answer right away. The sun was beginning to set, their second sunset since leaving Jimiramira. The driving had been particularly rough for the last fifty miles or so, but it would be even rougher in a little while, with the sky turning dark. Matthew let his grandfather concentrate until the road smoothed out. Judging from yesterday, they would keep driving late into the evening, until Roman was just too tired to go any farther.

“Your dad and I never talked much,” Roman said at last. “Not even when Cullen was living at home. I guess I never knew what to say to him. He could talk the sun out of the sky, that boy.”

“Did that bother you?”

“I never had any answers good enough, I suppose. Later, he got his answers from some of the other blokes around the station, swaggies who'd come in from other properties, sundowners who got what they could at Jimiramira and moved on. I should have watched him more carefully and put a stop to it, but I was always at one end of the place or the other, away from him too long. They taught him to gamble. But they didn't teach him to stop.”

“Dad doesn't gamble anymore. He hasn't for a long time.”

“So I've heard.”

Matthew was surprised. “You have?”

“A man hears things, whether he wants to or not.”

“You want to hear about my dad, don't you?”

Roman didn't deny it. “We had a fight one day. I sent him west, to Pikuwa Creek. I thought I'd be better off if I didn't have to worry about him anymore.”

“Were you?”

Roman didn't answer.

“He never says anything bad about you, you know,” Matthew said. “But he told me that he's coming home
someday to make everything right between you. Whether you want him to or not.”

Roman snorted. “That just about sounds like my son.”

“Your son's the best father in the world!”

“Well, he didn't learn it from me, but if he is, I reckon I've got reason to be proud of him.”

Matthew was mollified, then desolate. “I don't think he's going to be too proud of me.”

“Don't you?”

“He won't understand what I've done and why.”

“And your mother?”

“The pearl's destroying her life. One day she's not even going to be able to leave our apartment. Maybe when the pearl's gone once and for all she'll see why I had to do this.”

“And maybe not. People get used to having things. They don't want to see them taken away.” Roman slowed. “Look over there, boy.”

Matthew followed his grandfather's finger. In the silvery twilight, against a stand of glistening gums, two kangaroos were hopping beside the track. He watched in wide-eyed fascination. There were too few kangaroos in Australia for his taste.

“The big one's a boomer, a male,” Roman said. “The female has a joey in her pouch.”

“Cool.”

“We'll get to Derby tomorrow before midday.”

“And you think your mate Pete will lend us a boat?”

“He will, no mistake about it. He's offered in the past, hoping I'd take a bit of a holiday. I told him once I liked to sail as a boy. Guess any bloke who lives in country as dry as this has dreams about the sea.”

“But you never borrowed a boat?”

“Don't take holidays. Haven't since your grandmother was alive.”

Roman had already told Matthew the story of Pete Carpenter, a “mate” who had helped Roman ship Jimiramira cattle to Asia during the years when that was the best market. Pete was retired now, living on the coast outside of Derby, which was north of Pikuwa Creek. To keep busy he restored boats, since the best of his own sailing days were over. “Once a sailor gets the sea in his blood, you can't take him too far from it, or he'll wither up like grasslands in a drought,” Roman had told Matthew.

“You're sure the two of us can manage a sailboat by ourselves?” Matthew asked now. “Aren't they pretty big?”

“Let's see what Pete has. Then we'll worry.” Roman slowed the car and downshifted. “I'm afraid I'm all in, boy.”

Matthew thought this looked like as good a place to camp as any. There were scenic gorges and rock formations not far away, the product of an ancient reef that drew visitors from all over Australia. Matthew wished he and Roman could veer north and see them, but he knew Roman was skillfully avoiding any populated tourist accommodations or attractions. His grandfather didn't want to leave a trail. “So, are we going to stop here for the night?”

“No. I just need a rest. How about if you take over for a while.”

“Me?” Matthew was sure he'd heard his grandfather wrong.

“Do you see anybody else in here with us?”

“No, but—”

“Good bit of road for the next few kilometers. I don't know why you can't drive it as well as I can.”

“But I'm not sixteen.” He paused. “I'm not fifteen….”

“I know how old you are, boy.”

“It would be okay?”

“Wouldn't have asked if it weren't.”

“Wow!” Matthew sat up straighter. Fatigue vanished.

Roman slowed to a halt. “Not much to it. But it seems only right your first lesson should be out here. You're a dinky-di Australian, aren't you?”

“I don't know what I am, but I sure want to drive.”

“Then let's do it.”

Roman gave Matthew a quick verbal lesson, explaining how to shift gears in the Holden Jackeroo, one of the station's four-wheel-drive vehicles, which, though weatherbeaten, was in top-notch running condition. “Won't matter if we creep along at first,” Roman said. “Don't worry about going faster. Just get used to shifting gears.”

Matthew got out and circled the car to climb into the seat his grandfather vacated. He was surprised there was so much to remember. But he supposed if he could learn to drive here, where everything was on the opposite side of the car and “power anything” was unheard of, he would be a shoo-in for his license.

Roman reminded him to press the clutch before he shifted into first. Then, hands locked on the wheel, Matthew inched forward. “Wow!”

Roman laughed, the first time Matthew had heard that particular sound. “Your dad said something just like that the first time I put him behind the wheel.”

Matthew screwed up his face as he concentrated. There was so much to remember. He couldn't imagine how people did this in traffic. The kangaroos had passed them a long time ago. He wondered if he could catch up to them and doubted it.

“Next gear,” Roman called.

The gears ground, but Matthew pressed the clutch harder and they popped into place.

“Good,” Roman said. “You've got the touch.”

No one had ever said anything better. He felt himself grow an inch taller. He pressed a little harder on the accelerator, and they moved faster.

“Listen to the engine, boy. She'll tell you when it's time to shift again. She starts to strain a bit, and you'll know.”

Matthew listened, but there was so much to remember at once. He had to pay attention to staying in the middle of the road, where it seemed safest—since there hadn't been another car for over an hour. He had to remember where the brake was, just in case something ran in front of him or another crater appeared. He was almost sure he wouldn't know when to shift again, but suddenly the car rattled harder. “Now?”

“Told you, you have the touch.”

The sun was slipping toward the horizon. Roman reached over and turned a knob below the dashboard, and the road was bathed in the glow of their headlights. This was not the reason Matthew had come to Australia, but for a moment it seemed to be. He felt older, wiser, and infinitely more proud of himself.

He sped up and shifted one final time, working hard, this time to get the car into gear. There was a terrible grinding noise, but Roman covered his hand, just as naturally as if he had often held it, and helped him find the right place. The car wasn't straining now. They seemed to be flying, although Matthew knew he wasn't driving nearly as fast as Roman.

“Why did you come with me, Granddad?” Matthew asked. Behind the wheel of the Jackeroo he felt all-powerful, as if no one could deny him anything, most particu
larly not the truth. “I thought for sure you were going to try to send me home once I showed you the pearl.”

“Just watch what you're doing, boy. We can talk later.”

“Please tell me.” Matthew concentrated. Roman was silent for so long that Matthew assumed his plea had fallen on deaf ears. Then Roman spoke.

“I found out a few things about time over the years. You always think you have lots of it, Matthew, lots more than you might want. Then one day you see how wrong you were. No one has enough. And sometimes there are things that have to be done while you can.”

Matthew wasn't sure if he was confused because he was also trying not to run off the road. “What things?”

“Oh, things, like making sure the Pearl of Great Price never troubles anybody in our family again.”

Matthew was still feeling brave. “Things like getting to know your grandson?”

“Bloody hell! Just drive the car, boy.”

Matthew grinned and drove.

P
ikuwa Creek lay on the coast between Derby and Broome, at the mouth of a rugged bay. A hundred years before it had been the supply camp of Somerset and Company. Now it was the center of the world for Sebastian Somerset's great-great-grandson.

Cullen glanced at Liana as John circled the Southern Cross airstrip in preparation for landing. She might always be a white-knuckle flyer, but clearly she would fight any enemy that stood between her and their son.

As if she'd read his mind, she spoke. “Don't get the wrong idea, Cullen. Once we find Matthew, I'll probably crawl under my bed and stay there a year.”

“Nah. You won't. You're remembering what it's like not to be all tied up in knots.”

“I've never been tied in so many.”

“Being worried about Matthew is something different.”

She didn't dispute it. “I want him here waiting for us.”

That morning they had flown over Jimiramira, searching for the Jackeroo or signs of a temporary camp. They
had startled several of the station's stockmen and spooked a mob of cattle, but there hadn't been any sign of Roman and Matthew. By ten they had given up, gone back to refuel and taken off for Pikuwa Creek.

“Winnie promises she'll ring us the moment she hears anything.” Cullen peered out the window. “And, Lee, they may be on their way, but we know they haven't arrived yet. Sarah hadn't heard a word when I spoke to her before we left.”

“But she's checking with everyone at the farm. You did say that?”

“Once we land, you can ask her yourself.” He pointed down below, hoping to take her mind off what might be waiting for them. “See the reflection way out there, just beyond the point to the south? It might as well be silver or gold. Those are aluminum rafts, supporting panels of oyster shell in the water. They were X-rayed before they were brought here, so there's no doubt they contain pearls. The other farm up the coast has even more shell at the same stage.”

“Stage?”

“I don't remember exactly how we were doing things before you left. After the divers gather shell in February, it has to recover for four months, sometimes six.”

“I remember that part.”

“We suspend it in panels just off the bottom, way out at sea where we hope no one will spot it, but even though it's resting, we have to go back and clean it twice a month. The barnacles and other growth compete for nutrition.” He sat back. “Then the shell is brought here.”

“There are so many rafts.”

“We're not the biggest farm. Just the best.”

“Matthew's going to be fascinated. Seeing Pikuwa Creek is different from hearing stories.
If
he gets here…”

“He will.”

“I keep telling myself he's all right. After all, he's with your father. But I have this feeling…” She shook her head.

“You're his mother.”

She turned to him, slate-colored eyes huge against pale skin. “And you, Cullen? You're his father. You have a special bond. What do you think?”

“I think we should stick to facts. We have no evidence that anyone's traced him to Australia except us.”

She turned away. “Poker never was your game. You can't hide your feelings.”

His voice hardened. “My game right now is finding our son. If that means using my head and ignoring everything else, then that's what I'm going to do.”

She was silent until the landing was completed. Then she touched his arm. “I'm sorry.”

“We're on the same side.”

“For the record, when I remember, I like it.”

As a young man, if he'd known how complex life and love could be, Cullen would never have come to Pikuwa Creek and never have involved himself with this woman. She was as eternally mysterious as she had been at their first meeting, and her effect on him was still as mystifying.

He bent to kiss her, knowing that doing so would only make things more complex. She brushed her hand through his hair, but she didn't push him away. His heart hammered against his chest, but he was the one who withdrew.

“We'll find our son, then we're going to talk about possibilities. But one thing at a time.” He moved away to gather his gear from the seat across the aisle.

“I can't believe I'm back here.” She said the words so softly he barely heard them.

“You'll find everything has changed.”

“I've changed, and so have you. Why should Pikuwa Creek be different?”

Because some things stayed exactly the same.

Outside, the sun warmed his arms and hair, and he settled his hat in place. As weather went on the coast, this was a cool day, but he knew it would take Liana time to adjust. He watched from the corner of his eye, waiting for her reaction. To the heat. To being back at Pikuwa. To the changes…

She stepped forward, one tentative step, then she was moving away from the plane and the airstrip. He followed her to the edge, through a dry field. She paused under one of the blossoming moonah trees that framed a view of the house in the distance.

He tried to imagine it through her eyes, but he couldn't. Not really. He couldn't remember what the house had looked like ten years ago, because the changes he'd made had been gradual and therapeutic. What energy he hadn't devoted to Southern Cross Pearls had gone into the bungalow that he and Liana had shared with their son.

“It's…” She turned, and her eyes were shining. “It's spectacular. Cullen, you've darn well worked a miracle.”

He hadn't known he needed her praise. He had truly believed that the pleasure—and therapy—he'd gotten from renovating the house and designing the landscaping were enough.

But he had been wrong.

She crossed under the moonah tree bower and started forward. “Did you do this yourself?”

He followed, trying to see the house as she did. “For the most part.”

“It's so perfect. I love the red roof. Iron, like Jimiramira?” She glanced at him for confirmation.

“Where would Australia be without it?”

“It looks like a Chinese temple.”

“It's Broome style, so the heat rises and water sluices off in the Wet. Of course, if we get a good cyclone whipping through the bay, I reckon it will flap its wings and fly like a Chinese crane.”

“No, you're protected here. Well, as much as anyone along the coast can be. The veranda's extended, isn't it? And the latticework along the sides…You've planted so much. Acacia, and kapok and poinciana trees. And that's bougainvillea on the arbor?”

She was not a woman who blathered. He was not a man who sought compliments. For a moment he was uncharacteristically speechless. Then someone stepped out on the veranda, a tall young woman with short blond curls, and the moment was gone.

“There's Sarah now.” He rested his hand on her back to propel her forward. “Let me introduce you, and we'll see if she has news.”

The pleasure in her eyes faded, and for a moment she didn't look as if she could move from the spot. He knew she was afraid of what Sarah might tell them.

They climbed the porch steps while Sarah waited in the shade. She was a diplomat, which was why she had so quickly risen to assistant manager of Southern Cross. “I'm Sarah.” She extended her capable hand to Liana, but she spoke to both of them. “We haven't heard anything from or about Matthew, or Mr. Llewellyn, either, but I've alerted every man and woman on the place to watch out for them. What would you like me to do next? I could call the police stations in Broome and Derby.”

Cullen had never been more grateful for her easygoing efficiency. “You've checked my E-mail?”

“Nothing there. I'm sorry.”

“It might not be a bad idea to ask the police to watch out for them,” Liana said, after murmuring a polite greeting to Sarah.

“I'd better do it,” Cullen said. “I can give a better description. Sarah's never met Matthew.”

“Haven't you?” Liana asked the other woman. The question sounded more pointed than rhetorical.

“I've never had the pleasure. I can't go to the States when Cullen does. Someone has to stay and run the—”

Cullen cut her off. “Sarah, who's about the farm today?”

She rattled off a string of names. He nodded in punctuation.

“That many?” Liana seemed surprised.

Cullen answered. “It's not the place you knew, Lee. We've a permanent crew of over fifty now, with extra help from time to time during the year.”

She didn't hide her surprise. “Here, on the farm?”

“We've expanded since the old days. Some of the crew live out on the water. We have a fiberglass vessel, the
Southern Cross,
that stays out at sea nearly all year. And we have smaller boats, as well, which are out right now turning shell in our dumping grounds and over at our second farm at Yampi Sound. Those crews come and go, three weeks out, one on shore. We fly the crew of the
Cross
back and forth by seaplane in shifts. So the head count at Pikuwa Creek changes from day to day.”

“Except for the divers cleaning shell out there.” Sarah pointed at the bay. “They're local, for the most part. Some of them live right here, others live in the area. And so do the factory workers.”

Liana looked to Cullen for clarification. “We make our own nuclei for seeding now.” He pointed north, to a whitewashed building sitting near the water's edge. “There's a
canteen down there, a cricket field and comfortable quarters. We even have a satellite dish and a video library. It's not a bad life.”

“It's not a bad life at all,” Sarah said firmly. “And Cullen's workers know exactly how good they have it.”

He had never seen Sarah on the defensive, but he thought he might be getting a preview. “Sarah, give Liana a quick tour, will you? I have to settle up with the pilot who brought us here and ring the cop shops. I've got a few other people to alert, as well. Lee, when you've seen all you want, come back to the house and we'll get you settled in.”

“Ready to have a look?” Sarah asked Liana.

For a moment Cullen wondered if she would go along. He wanted privacy to make his calls. He needed to feel free to express his worst fears so the police would take him seriously.

“All right,” Liana said. “But, Cullen, if you hear anything, if anything happens…”

“I'll fetch you flat chat.”

She smiled. Not the strained attempt at reassurance he'd seen too often, and not the softer, more genuine smile of the girl he'd married. This was the provocative smile of a woman. “Flatter than flat, mate. Don't forget, we're in this together.”

 

“I really am sorry about Matthew,” Sarah said, after Cullen disappeared into the house.

Liana examined Sarah in side glances. She was a tall woman, with a body a personal trainer would take pride in. She was deeply tanned, despite her wheat blond curls and pale blue eyes, and unashamedly casual. But Sarah was no stranger to feminine wiles. She wore a blinding white T-shirt that emphasized both the tan and the perfect breasts, and matching shorts that bared an admirable mile of leg.

As Sarah started off, Liana reluctantly fell into place beside her. “We hope there's nothing to be sorry about except a wayward teenager taking life into his own hands.”

“I've never had a child, so I have no idea what one might do or why. But I can imagine how you must feel. And I know Cullen adores his son.”

“Matthew thinks Cullen hung the moon.”

“That makes it particularly odd, doesn't it, that he chose to take off on his own now, when they could be together?”

“Everything about it is odd.”

“You must let me know if there's anything I can do to help, Liana.” She paused. “Do you mind if I call you that?”

Liana dredged up a smile. “Please.” She didn't want to talk about Matthew anymore, not unless there was something important to say. “Cullen's sent me off so he can have some privacy when he talks to the police.”

Sarah paused. “Maybe you'd rather we just sat somewhere and waited until he's finished?”

“No. Why don't you tell me about the farm?”

“Has it changed that much?” Sarah didn't wait for a response. “Of course it has. It's changed by half in the years I've been here. I can't even imagine what it was like so long ago.”

Liana felt ancient. Sarah was all of twenty-six. “How long have you been here?”

“Five years. I studied biology at university, but I was raised in Broome, and I was desperate to come back. There's no place like it, is there?”

Sarah was outdistancing her, but Liana knew that when the gap widened noticeably, Sarah would slow her pace. “I'm sure Broome's a very different place than it was then. Just like Pikuwa Creek.”

Sarah slowed with an apologetic shrug. “You won't rec
ognize it. There's quite the cosmopolitan atmosphere these days. It seems we have festivals every month, but it's still the tropics. Everything happens on Broome time.”

Liana stopped when Sarah did. They were at the edge of the white sand beach dipping down to the bay, and she remembered it well. “I always wished Matthew and I could swim here. But the tides would have carried us away if the local croc didn't do it first.”

“The tide is the reason our pearls do so well. An inch a minute. All that nourishment washing back and forth through the shell. This is a nearly perfect environment. Cullen could pack it in at a moment's notice and the other pearlers would be standing in line for this property.”

Liana heard pride in the other woman's voice, but she wondered if there was something more. Sarah had been at the farm for five years. Cullen swore they had no personal relationship, but she wondered whose choice that was.

Sarah stared out into the bay. “What would you like to know?”

“Cullen told me about the rafts on the way in. Is the shell brought here to be seeded?”