Heart of the Outback (46 page)

Oh, God, had she made yet another mistake about a man and misjudged the depth of his feelings? All at once she had to get out of his living room — before she began to cry. She had her pride too and something deep inside her couldn’t let him see how much she was hurting.

“I … I’d better go,” she stammered as she got to her feet.

She wanted to say so much, to plead with him to work their way through the difficulties together, but she glimpsed the set expression on his face and knew it would do no good. He had decided she wasn’t right for him or he wasn’t right for her and in his
policeman mind that’s all that counted. Damn him to hell. In fact, damn all men …

Steve sat in the chair as if he had been turned into stone. He was numb from head to toe but he’d done it. Turned her away from him. He didn’t feel good about it. He hurt. Immeasurably. For himself, for her, for what might have been and never would be. For the lonely days and lonelier nights, years, ahead of him.

Shit, his breath expelled in a low, growling sigh, he might as well take that transfer to Brisbane. Make a new start somewhere else.

Cruising around town in the Range Rover, CJ spied the Rolls parked near the Verona Hotel at dusk. He went up to the reception desk and asked if anyone had seen Francey. The clerk told him she had booked a room for the night. At first the clerk hadn’t wanted to tell CJ which room, that was hotel policy, but after a fifty dollar note subtlely passed across the counter, coupled with CJ’s explosive countenance and an indirect threat to his job, the clerk quietly stated the room number. He further redeemed himself by offering the information that he’d seen her five minutes ago in the bar, talking to Lisa Dupre.

Francey looked the worse for wear. Her dark hair flew wildly around her face and her eyes were puffy from crying. CJ took a deep breath and, sensing the tears were not for him, approached the table where the two women sat, deep in conversation.

“Francey, Lisa, how nice …” he said cordially as he moved one of the chairs and sat at their table.

“CJ, I was just trying to talk Francey into having dinner with me and Pierre,” Lisa said. Her eyebrows lifted meaningfully as they both studied a Francey they had never seen before, a Francey out of control and half drunk.

“Don’ wanna eat, jus’ get me ’nother drink,” Francey slurred as she acknowledged CJ with a nod of her head.

“I’ll see to it,” CJ said and snapped his fingers for a passing waiter’s attention. “Three coffees, please and make one black,” he ordered as the waiter came within earshot.

“Wait a minut’,” Francey objected. “I wanna whisky, the best.” She tried to look steadily at CJ but her eyes wouldn’t stay focused. “I learnt that from you, CJ, nothin’ but the best — Johnny Walker Imported, thank you, waiter.”

“Coffee,” CJ countermanded and motioned for Lisa to make her excuses.

“Well, I’ll be off. Pierre’s waiting for me in the dining room. If you both change your mind, please join us.”

Francey gave Lisa an uncoordinated wave then stared at CJ. “Don’ want bloody coffee. Need ’nother drink.”

“I suggest we continue this discussion in your room. Shall we?” CJ said firmly.

Francey stared narrow-eyed at him for a moment until she remembered the well-equipped mini-bar there. “Sure, why not?”

Once inside Francey’s room CJ sat her in a chair. “Now, young lady, what has brought this on?” He hoped, rather desperately, that she wasn’t reacting to
the fact that she was his daughter. The thought that the reality might have driven her to drink caused him great anxiety.

“Personal.” She got up and went over to the mini-bar. Deftly screwing the top off the Johnny Walker bottle she poured it into a tumbler and drank it down straight, barely shuddering this time. Hard liquor wasn’t usually to her liking, the most she ever had was a light white wine, but she knew the stronger alcohol would achieve the aim of making her insensible faster.

“That’s enough.” CJ’s tone was harsh. He made them both a strong cup of coffee and gave her a cup. “This is what you need. Francey, we have to talk and there’s little point in us trying to when you’re half under the weather.”

“Wannabe wholly under th’ weather,” she retorted. Her head was beginning to ache and spin at the same time. And she had this queasy feeling in her stomach too. When had she last eaten? Couldn’t remember. Wasn’t important. Who the hell cared?

“What brought this on?” CJ asked.

“It’s personal.”

“Oh, a man.” He could only think of one man capable of causing her such distress. “Steve Parrish, hey? What’s he done, two-timed you?” Somehow he couldn’t see that happening, Parrish didn’t seem the type.

She could tell him, she realised. He was her father after all. “No. Worse. Dumped me.” Without consciously thinking about it she began to sip the coffee. “Said it couldn’t work out between us because … ’cause …”

“Because you’re CJ Ambrose’s daughter?”

“Right. Th’ bastard. I hate him.”

“I’m sorry. Do you blame me? I mean, if I hadn’t said anything, gone public …”

She gave him a funny look. “Wha’! Why should I blame you? Steve’s th’ one with th’ prob. I said it shouldn’t make any difference if we care for each other. He says it does.”

“I see. It’s hard to fight a person’s perception, isn’t it?”

“Damned right it is,” she muttered with feeling.

“Perhaps I should talk to him.”

She shook her head adamantly. “Wouldn’t do any good. I know Steve,” she sighed sadly, “too well. He’s the kind of person tha’ once he makes up his mind, that’s it full stop.”

“Then maybe you have to face the fact that he didn’t care as much for you as you did for him.”

She’d thought about it but the reality of him saying the words out loud was just too much. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. “I know … That’s what hurts. I … I seem to have a knack for falling for the wrong men.”

CJ noted that she’d finished her coffee so he made her another one. She was sobering fast anyway, talking the problem through seemed to be having that effect on her. By the end of the second cup of coffee she still looked terrible but was at least coherent.

“I thought that we needed to talk, about last night. About everything,” he began. “I knew you wanted time to make the mental adjustment but I’m really anxious for us to get over this … difficulty … and become close again. Can we talk?”

“We are talking,” she said simply, a wary smile lighting her face.

“Why don’t I order dinner for us, room service, hey?”

“Sure. Sounds good.” She doubted that she could eat much but if it made him happy …

While they waited for room service they began to talk, or rather CJ did most of it and Francey listened.

“I have to explain about Mary. It’s difficult to admit you were wrong about something, that you made a big mistake in your life. At least it’s always been that way for me. I did back in Coober Pedy. I loved Mary and I should never have left her but back then I was obsessed …”

“Obsessed with what?” she interjected, instantly interested.

“It goes back many years, to my childhood. I was just a youngster when my grandfather lost our property, Amba Downs. I loved that place. My Dad would take me mustering on his horse, practically before I could walk. I knew every hectare of the land. I had expectations. One day it would come to me. But we lost everything and were forced to lead a pretty nomadic life.” He grinned. “Almost like the Aboriginals. We’d go from job to job, town to town. Mother was never strong, she didn’t last long living that kind of life, but before she died she instilled in me the dream of the Ambrose’s having their own place one day. It became my consuming passion. As I grew, everything I learnt and did, the money I could save, was all directed at achieving that goal.

“The opal mine worked as a short cut for me, a way of making my dream come true earlier than it
might have. Of course Mickey and I were damned lucky to come across a vein that made us rich. When Mickey died I got the lot.” He shook his head and when he looked at her there was incredible sadness in his eyes. “They always said I was a lucky bastard.” He was silent for a moment or too, remembering. “You see, I know it’s hard to understand but Mary wasn’t part of my dream. I loved her in my own way but I honestly couldn’t see us having a life together. She was so young, so naive —”

“Good enough to sleep with though …” Francey interrupted sagely.

“Yes,” he admitted. “She was a sweet, innocent girl. I guess I destroyed that innocence without consciously meaning to. She never meant to get pregnant, you know. She was on the pill but I guess something happened, or didn’t happen. Maybe she forgot to take it one day and didn’t tell me. Poor Mary. She’d never had a real family, she was brought up at the mission and the other kids and the nuns there were the only family she knew. She so wanted to belong … that’s partly why I think she wanted the baby.”

“A family should include a father too,” Francey pointed out, her blue-green eyes studying him closely, seeing the play of emotions on his face and through his body language.

“You’re right. Only I was so caught up in the obsession of making my dream come true, I didn’t think about
her
dreams.” He expelled a sigh. “Selfish bastard, that’s what I am.”

“You won’t get any argument from me on that score.”

“I honestly thought she’d find someone else. Someone who would be more suited to her … and they’d be a family. I sent her money, you know, enough to set herself up. To buy a house and invest the rest to bring in an income. She sent the cheque back to the bank, wouldn’t take a cent.”

“Too proud to, I expect.” Francey knew it was so. It fitted the mental image Lucia and Carlo had given her of Mary Williams.

“I guess so. Anyway, when I got back to Townsville I worked hard to get her out of my head and my heart. Brenda, I convinced myself, was the right type of wife for me. Brenda and her inheritance would be an asset to me as I made my way in the world, Mary and a baby would have been a burden. I know that’s cold-hearted and I apologise for it, but it’s the truth. Mary couldn’t have coped with the social aspect, or understood or been interested in the business side. Brenda was, always. But I tried to check on Mary. I had someone check out Coober Pedy, but they’d lost track of her. So I took the easy way out and assumed that everything was okay.”

“It wasn’t though, was it?”

“No. I had no idea she was ill with that blood problem. But at least you can’t blame me for causing that.”

Their meals arrived and strangely, Francey found that she could eat. A couple of hours before she’d thought she would never want to eat again, yet here she was, tucking into a huge New York cut steak. Was her returning appetite a sign that her heart wasn’t really as badly broken as she’d thought?

“Tell me about my mother. How did you meet? What did she do? I want to know everything about her. About your romance with her.”

They talked till midnight. CJ told her all the things he could remember about Mary, the little things about her life growing up at the mission. And in doing so the chasm that had stretched between them since the party was bridged.

F
rancey leant back in the first-class seat aboard the flight to Sydney, closed her eyes and relived yesterday’s successful conclusion of yet another business seminar at the mini conference centre. The pledges for investment capital had come hard and fast once they’d detailed the success of stage one of Cooktown’s Jasmine project. Still a year away from completion, stage one was fully subscribed, as Nikko, head of the Yakismoto consortium had predicted it would be.

The trip south was partly to scout out several promising business leads CJ had come up with which, if genuine, would allow the Pac-Asia Investment consortium — the ink on yesterday’s contracts was still wet — to break into the lucrative Sydney property development market. And, of course there would be time to check the building progress of CJ’s mansion at Kirribilli and for a lightning visit to see her parents.

Since the party, CJ had piled on the work, telling her it was the best thing for a broken heart. Her smile was wry at that remembered remark. His opinion wasn’t shared by her but at least keeping busy kept thoughts of Steve and the accompanying pain around the region of her heart to a bearable minimum. She’d heard that he had asked for a transfer to Brisbane, which was a mixed blessing. In a way it would be a relief to know that she wouldn’t bump into him on the streets of the Isa but the fact that he’d be further away only intensified the pain of her loss.

On arrival at Mascot she was whisked off in a limousine to her first business appointment. This set the pattern for the first day and a half. After that and successfully negotiating an option on land for a resort complex north of Katoomba, with the intention to build an artificial skiing complex on the site as well, she purposely made time for her parents. They went to see the progress of the Kirribilli house, and then had dinner at Edna’s Table at The Rocks.

“You are spoiling us,
cara
,” Carlo said as he sat back after dessert and tried to be polite by not burping, a habit for which he was renowned after a particularly rich meal.

“Why not?” Francey responded. “You’re very special to me.” Which was the truth. She loved them both dearly, and that would never change. In fact, if and when she could, she would do all in her power to make their lives easier … if they permitted it. But she wouldn’t tell them that yet, they had to become more used to sharing her with CJ.

Only Lucia, more compassionate and observant than her husband, saw the subtle changes in Francey. The self-confidence, never much of a problem, was now even more pronounced, more sure. And with a mother’s eyes she saw the underlying sadness too and her heart went out to her.

“That Steve,” Lucia said suddenly, “he is a stupid man. Not as bright as I thought he was.”

“Please, Mamma, you promised not to talk about Steve.”

“Pah, I say nothing more other than to repeat that he is stupid to let a woman like you get away from him.”

Carlo and Francey exchanged glances, their eyebrows raised. When Lucia Spinetti got on her soapbox, everyone beware. This they knew from years of experiencing her fiery outbursts.