Bethany Campbell - The Secret Heiress

He hoped Feeney was right, and Preston would hurry up and find himself a tasty tart. And then? God help the scumbag. And the unlucky dirty little girl he settled on.

Feeney would help him take care of that, too.

The next morning in Darwin, Marie still moved like an automaton. And like an automaton, she did not feel. She was numb and vaguely wondered if she was in shock.

She managed to get through the day because Colette would have wanted her to.

Reynard arrived late that evening, before Marie got home from Scepter. He’d parked his battered blue truck in front of her apartment and waited in the driver’s seat. As soon as he saw Marie, he leaped out of the truck to hug her tightly.

She clung to him with real affection. He’d always been kind to her and Colette, and Colette had adored him. Even though she fretted over him, he could always make her laugh with a funny story or a cheeky song.

“My little love,” he said against Marie’s ear. “Our Colie’s gone where there’s no more pain. Had she been born my blood sister, I couldn’t have loved her more.”

Marie drew back and studied his face, shadowy in the apartment’s outdoor lights. He was in his early sixties, but still surprisingly handsome. The only apparent flaw in his health was that he wore two hearing aids. He’d suffered for years from ringing in his ears, and had begun to go deaf in his late thirties.

He was tall, and his body was straight and strong. He had dark blond hair, wavy and going gray. His brows were darker, his lashes bronze-colored and surprisingly long.

In spite of the lashes, his face was strong-boned and years of sunburn had lined his skin, especially with laugh lines. His eyes were medium blue and looked lazy, heavy-lidded. They made him seem as if he was ready to nod off, but she knew his gaze missed little.

She looked up at him. “I’m glad you’re here. Nobody else would understand.”

He rumpled her short hair. “I know. We’re an odd lot, aren’t we? Tell me, duck, when’s the service? I’ll have to go to the Salvos and get me a suit.”

Marie looked him in the eye. “There’s no service. She was cremated yesterday. That’s how she wanted it. We can get the ashes tomorrow. She wanted them scattered in the ocean.”

Reynard’s body stiffened, and he stared down at her with displeasure. “Cremated? Burned like rubbish?”

“She never told you. She knew you wouldn’t like it.”

“You did it without me?”

“She didn’t want you to have to be there. She thought it…would hurt.”

“And what about you, miss? You were there all by yourself?”

She swallowed hard, not wanting to remember. “Yes. I didn’t want her to be alone.”

He shook his head in what seemed a mixture of dismay and grudging admiration. “But you were alone. Didn’t you feel wretched?”

“I didn’t feel much of anything,” she said honestly. “Rennie, it’s like an invisible suit of armor fell from the sky and clamped itself on me. It won’t let me feel yet.”

“Ah. I know the sensation.” He looped his arm around her shoulders. “Maybe now that I’m here, you can come back to yourself. Let’s go inside.”

As she unlocked the door, he said, jokingly, “I hope you’ve got a drop of something for you old uncle. The long drive made me thirsty.”

She nodded sadly. “I bought a bottle of port.”

“Then let’s have a glass. It’ll loosen you up. Your body feels tight as a knot, my girl. You should come back to Hunter Valley with me. Get away from this place for a while.”

He was steering her into the living room, but she stopped and stared at him in alarm. “I can’t leave here,” she protested. “I have classes. I have a job. I have this apartment.”

“Details,” he said with a careless air. “I have a proposition for you.”

“What?” she asked suspiciously.

He gave her his most winning smile. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. After…you know. Now let us drink a toast to our Colie. And that old bat Louisa. Who might be your granny.”

She could no longer think clearly. She didn’t want to think at all about Louisa Fairchild, only Colette. “Yes,” she said. “A toast. She deserves that.”

Marie had reserved a small hire boat. Reynard, of course, could pilot it, for he truly was a jack-of-all-trades. After her classes the next day, they took the boat out into the harbor to a pretty and private spot that Colette had always loved.

They said their own silent goodbyes and released the ashes into the waves. Then they returned to shore. And nothing, to Marie, would ever be the same.

Afterward, she and Reynard sat in a pub near the harbor. Reynard had a whiskey, but Marie barely touched her wine.

“Oh, knock it back,” Reynard urged her. “You’ve been through bloody hell, my girl. Drink a bit more. It’ll help you to sleep.”

“Sleep?” she asked dubiously.

“I’ll drive us back, and you should take a nap,” he said. “You look all fagged out. You’re not Superwoman, y’know.”

She saw the logic, but still she didn’t want the wine.

“You remember what I said last night?” Reynard asked. “About you coming back to Hunter Valley with me?”

“Remember what I said? I have commitments here.”

“Perhaps you have commitments there,” he argued. “To your mother, for instance.”

“Mama?” she asked, puzzled.

“Yes,” he said, leaning closer, staring intently at her. “She gave you the letter from Willadene Gates, didn’t she? She expected you to deal with it. Knew she didn’t have the strength to do it herself, poor thing. Wanted to know the truth. Knew the end was near, I’ll warrant. Thought it was time to put things in your hands. Trusted you, she did.”

“She didn’t know if anything should be done,” Marie objected.

“She kept the letter, didn’t she?” he challenged. “She gave it to you, didn’t she? Read her note. She practically begs you. She thought she failed you by not following through. But that you could handle it. And so handle it you must.”

Marie felt a bit dizzied by his reasoning. “What difference does it make if Mama was Louisa Fairchild’s daughter? I mean, it can’t mean anything now that Mama’s—”

She found it hard to say the word dead.

Reynard looked both saddened and angry. “If the Fairchild woman had been kinder, Colie might not be dead. Years of poverty ground her down. But Fairchild just cast out Colie and let the fates take her. God, I’d show a dog more kindness.”

“Rennie, she probably thought that Mama was going to a good, safe home. Mama loved the Lafayettes. Didn’t you?”

“I was a mere toddler when they lost everything. I don’t remember the good times. No, I’ve no happy childhood memories. They couldn’t even afford to get my ears fixed. My life might’ve run a different course if that had happened.”

Colette would agree to this, Marie knew. Reynard said that he did poorly in school because of his tinnitus, the constant ringing in his ears. He was bright, but he knew he’d never get through college, so never tried.

Instead he’d drifted across Australia, back and forth, up and down. He’d lived that way for decades, and Colette had always feared he’d die that way, aimless, rambling and poor.

Marie looked at him in concern. He raised his chin and said, “I think you owe it to her to find out about the old Fairchild girl. And who knows? Maybe you could put things to right.”

“To right?” she repeated, frowning slightly.

“Maybe Louisa was forced to give away her baby and that’s why she’s so sour. You could bring her happiness. And find some yourself. Colette would want that for you. You know she would.

“Besides,” he added, “the old girl might settle a bit of money on you. God knows you and Colie never had help from any corner.”