A Reason To Stay Read online

  ‘That’s sad. That’s all I can say in response.’

  How dare he?

  For years she’d defended her lifestyle to her family. Nobody seemed to understand the sacrifice it took in every aspect of your life to succeed in the corporate world.

  ‘Don’t go there unless you know what you’re talking about,’ she warned.

  He stepped closer. His chest, a solid brick wall, was a touch away. Almost heart-stopping.

  ‘I started a new life here in a new country. I know exactly what I’m talking about. Living what you believe in is not without its challenges.’

  She winced, embarrassed at how she must sound to him. What happened? Their meet and greet was going way off the rails.

  ‘Sorry, that came out wrong. What were you doing?’

  His intense gaze caught her off guard. His eyes were dangerous, dark and deep, the type of eyes she could easily lose herself in.

  ‘I was an architect. In your rarefied and all-consuming world you might have heard of them—Allsopp and Sons.’

  Rachael drew in a sharp breath. She had heard of them alright. Gordon had only pitched to them last month. He’d been angling to get them as a client for years. The team had spent a week of solid preparation, only to miss out again.

  ‘Yes, I’ve seen their name about. Six months ago they opened up a second office in Sydney.’

  Mike circled about her, his gaze never leaving her face.

  ‘That’s right, and those poor coots are working all the hours God gave them to make it viable. The morning call to action sends everybody diving for a Panadol. Who wants to live like that?’

  Rachael stiffened. She couldn’t deny his words, but she wasn’t having anybody rubbish her corporate life. It was who she was.

  ‘Some of us like to rise to the challenge. I enjoy what I do. I love living in Sydney where there are some wonderful opportunities if you want them.’

  Mike raised an eyebrow.

  ‘There’s a flipside to that. People are living happy and satisfying lives away from the concrete jungle. It’s just as challenging, it has its own set of rules and is very enjoyable.’

  Goosebumps rippled over her skin at his words. She wasn’t sure if it was a mixture of his voice, his accent or the man himself. Whatever, he was too much.

  ‘Do you work with Bob?’

  ‘No, I’m the town planner for the local shire council.’

  Her eyes widened. Something didn’t add up. She was sure being the towner planner for Mindalby’s council, or anywhere else, would not have featured high on Mike’s wish list after uni.

  ‘Are you under contract? Do you like it? Or, do you have a little business on the side?’

  Her loud, strong voice reverberated in the enclosed confines of the narrow backyard. She drew up sharp at the strident tone of her voice, its harshness shocking her. Mike’s jaw tightened and her stomach flip-flopped. She’d hit her target. She had to stop with the interrogation. Mike was not a recalcitrant witness.

  He let out a soft laugh like it was no big deal, but she was sure it was. She’d only just met the guy and here she was putting him under the spotlight. His eyes collided with hers and her cheeks heated up like a furnace.

  He grinned at her, holding her gaze for a moment, before he shook his head.

  ‘Question after question, so direct and to the point. Gordon would be proud.’

  She breathed in deeply. ‘I’m sorry. I’m in a bad habit with the questions. It comes with the territory.’

  Why couldn’t she just bat her baby-blues and flirt? Why didn’t that come naturally?

  The back door slammed. Shar walked towards them, her smile wide. ‘Oh, I see you two are getting on.’

  She nodded to Mike. ‘Bob’s waiting for you out the front.’

  Mike gave them both a smile. ‘Good one. I’ll see you lovely ladies later.’

  She watched Mike until he turned the corner and kept her eye on him hoping, waiting, for another smile or wink. But there was nothing.

  Stop it.

  She didn’t need any romantic complications anyway.

  ‘Nice guy,’ she said to Shar.

  Shar eyed her, her gaze set firm.

  ‘Hands off him, Rach. He might be a nice fling for you, but I don’t want you to ruin him for a really nice girl.’

  She blinked, surprised. For a moment she wondered if ‘punching bag’ was written across her forehead.

  ‘Aren’t I a nice girl?’

  Shar put her arms around her shoulders and gave her a little shake.

  ‘Yes, you are, but you’re married to your job. He’s a good man who’s going to make someone a lovely husband. Mike’s father material. A natural. That’s a rare combination.’

  She could see that, but there was something else. Obviously Shar did not see her as suitable wife material.

  ‘What has that got to do with me?’

  ‘Come on, Rach. When was the last time you had a boyfriend any longer than three months?’

  Good point. She couldn’t remember, it was so long ago.

  Shar continued, her smile deepening. ‘You have a very bad habit of eating men and spitting them out. You might offer the odd one bed and breakfast. Sorry, I forgot, you don’t do breakfast, do you? Is it still black coffee with three sugars?’

  ‘Ouch! I hear you.’

  Rachael hated being reminded how her love life was non-existent. What did it matter? For a solid future she was prepared to pay the price.

  ‘Rach, face it, you’d turn your laptop on before you’d turn some guy on, and Mike is not that type of guy.’

  A vision of Mike’s broad back and hard chest made her smile. No, he certainly was not that type of guy.

  She grinned at her sister. ‘I’ve noticed. Mike’s rude, crude and tattooed.’

  Shar lifted a brow. ‘Oh, you have been observant. That tat’s so small you almost need binoculars to see it.’

  Rachael laughed out loud, the sound echoing in the cold damp backyard. Right on cue, Shar had stated the obvious. It was good to be home.

  Chapter 2

  Five minutes later Rachael stood at the top of the stairs on the second floor of the Henderson home and stared down the darkened hallway. It was the floor where their bedrooms were and where the fun was had with the many rumbles, the water fights, and the endless ‘goodnight’ calls.

  They’d all had a bad time when Bert died two years ago, but if Nancy should die … Rachael swallowed hard. Stop it, stop thinking like that.

  Underfoot the wooden floorboards creaked as she made her way to the bedroom she’d shared with Shar for eight years. Pretty pink floral wallpaper covered the walls, and on opposite sides were two single beds covered with faded purple chenille bedspreads—Shar’s favourite colour, and the only argument she’d ever won. Between the beds was a large window that overlooked the backyard and the chicken run.

  Rachael popped her briefcase and handbag on the inside top shelf of her wardrobe and locked the door. Past experience with Shar’s boys had taught her to keep anything precious out of reach.

  The kettle whistle blew and Rachael was flooded with memories—of Nancy preparing apple pies, scones and chocolate crackles, of everybody licking the bowls and mucking around, of the girls washing up and the boys wiping up.

  ‘Tea’s on,’ Shar called.

  A lovely warm comforting feeling filtered throughout Rachael’s body. Nowhere else on earth did she get such a sense of peace.

  ‘Coming,’ she called out.

  A rare hit of silliness engulfed her, and she ran down the hall. She took the stairs two at a time, passed the family dining room, raced through the front room and slid her hand across the custom-made cabinet Bert had built for Nancy. It sat in pride of place under the main window, close to the rocker where Nancy liked to sit of an evening listening to the radio while quilting.

  She came to a sudden stop at the kitchen door. What is happening here? Her eyes flew to Shar, who stood at the sink staring out the back wi
ndow.

  In silence, her gaze was drawn to the sink which was full of dirty dishes. She swallowed hard when she spotted the row of once shiny and full, but now finger-marked and empty, canisters that lined the back bench. In front of the canisters were remnants of an orange peel and a half-eaten apple turnover. She let out a long sigh at the bread crumbs that covered most of the bench. Shocked, Rach stepped into the kitchen and righted an empty bottle of milk that lay in the centre of all the mess.

  ‘Shar, what’s going on?’

  Shar looked grim and placed their mugs of tea on the kitchen table, and then ran a hand through her messy hair.

  ‘Where do I start? With Bob losing his job? The mill’s closure? Nancy’s heart attack? Moving in here?’ Shar paused, her soft grey eyes filling up. ‘I’m sorry to hit you with it, but this is my reality.’

  ‘I see,’ Rach said. She cringed at her automatic response.

  ‘There’s not a lot of work about. That’s why I’m glad you’re here. I don’t know what to do. I mean it, Rach, I really don’t know what to do.’

  Rachael stood rooted to the spot and her head started to pound. She was so missing in action where her family was concerned. Her work life revolved around taking control of things, working through a plan of action with the end in sight. She stepped around a few toys on the floor, and an overflowing dog bowl, to join Shar at the sink. They used to share so much, laugh at almost anything, and all that had gone, somewhere. She gave Shar a quick hug and whispered, ‘We’ll sort it.’

  How many mornings had she thought to put a call through to see how they were all doing, only to forget and go through the same motions the next day? Shar had emailed her the news about the mill and Bob’s job loss, but apart from giving a quick email back, she hadn’t followed up.

  ‘How?’ Her sister’s question cut into her thoughts.

  She ran a hand through her hair and had never felt more lost than she did now.

  ‘Give me time; I’ve got to get my head around it first.’

  After a deep shudder a pair of grey eyes flashed up at her. ‘Okay, fire away.’

  ‘When did you move back in?’ she asked shakily.

  ‘Last weekend. Nancy suggested it. We thought we’d rent out our place and live here until things got sorted. Our furniture’s in the garage and I’ve started unpacking a few things.’

  ‘Is it now rented?’

  ‘Not yet, but the bank’s agreed to a reduced payment. I don’t know how long for.’ Her voice was very low, very serious.

  Alarmed, Rachael gave her sister a sidelong glance. ‘Bob didn’t come out to greet me. Is he okay?’

  A big teardrop fell from Shar’s eye and she quickly brushed it aside.

  ‘I don’t think so. Losing his job has hit him hard and, of course, nobody knows what’s going on.’

  She pressed on. ‘How hard? Is he depressed?’

  Her sister glared at her. ‘I don’t know. What does depression look like?’

  It was a fair question. Bob had grown up next door and was nick-named Mr Casual because nothing ever ruffled him. He even worked half a day the day he married Shar. Everybody had a breaking point.

  Her welcome home was not the way she had expected. She knew about the mill, but had thought between them Shar and Bob might have worked something out, had some sort of back-up plan. But, why would they? They’d never really had to fight hard for anything in their lives. She couldn’t recall a time when they hadn’t needed help from either the Hendersons or Bob’s family.

  Her phone buzzed.

  Damn.

  She pulled out her mobile. Rosie’s name flashed up on the screen.

  ‘Shar, I’ve got to take this.’

  She clicked on her phone and stalked into the main dining room.

  ‘Rosie?’

  ‘Rach, I’ve got Gordon with me and he wants to speak to you.’

  A sharp hot pain, like a burning sword, stabbed deep inside her stomach.

  That man will give me ulcers.

  In the hallway she grabbed the pen and notepad from the telephone table. One did not waste Gordon Reynolds’ time. A caricature of him with the warning words ‘charming and disarming’ adorned the back of a few of the library books at Sloane & Sloane. Rumours ran wild that his voice carried a certain quality, a death rattle, whenever he sent for security to show you the door.

  ‘Rachael, remind me. Where exactly are you?’

  His strident voice sliced through her thoughts. His anxiety powered on down the line to her.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I’m in Mindalby. You saw my messages?’

  ‘Yes. I did. Thank you. I’m not familiar with Mindalby. How’s your mother doing?’

  ‘The latest is she’s comfortable and still in hospital.’

  ‘I see.’

  She could almost see Gordon’s beady eyes harden and her body stiffened in anticipation.

  ‘Two weeks. You’re having two weeks away. Isn’t that a little ambitious? Won’t you need longer?’

  Her grip tightened on her phone. She had no intention of being out of sight or out of mind when she was so close to a partnership.

  ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘I see. It’s a difficult time. You know how busy we are. We’re a law firm under the pump right now and we need all hands on deck.’ His drawl was slow and deliberate.

  She rubbed at her forehead. She’d rehearsed her answer all day, and now she couldn’t recall one word of it.

  ‘I realise that. I don’t plan to stop working. I’ll be sorting out a few family matters and then I’ll be back.’

  She let out a nervous laugh. Her response sounded lame.

  ‘I see. Sounds to me like you have a fair bit on. Will you have time to work?’

  Her heart lurched. She spied the wedding photo of Nancy and Bert hanging above the phone table and reached out with her sleeve to give it a quick dust.

  She heard his impatient sigh. Drawing herself up to her full height she gripped the phone.

  ‘Gordon, I intend to keep working and am contactable. I’ve drawn up a work plan with Rosie and we’re going to follow it. Anything more?’

  ‘No, no. I trust you on this. Keep in touch. Best wishes to your mother.’

  He clicked off and she stared at her phone.

  Uppermost she had to remember Gordon was part of the system; he had figures and certain criteria to meet. It was often said in jest that if he was married, or had a girlfriend, it would take the edge off his anger. The man never switched off. An awful thought struck her.

  Do Rosie and the team ever think that about me?

  She refused to go there. Gordon was where she wanted to be, a senior partner, and that often meant treading on toes.

  Rolling her shoulders she strolled back to the kitchen. It was like moving the Titanic, but she managed to shift her focus back to the present.

  ‘I don’t know what to do.’ Shar’s words echoed in her brain as a call to action she couldn’t ignore. It was her life’s work. She fought hard for other people and never allowed a problem to roll her over.

  Shar was at the kitchen sink, up to her elbows in soap suds.

  Rachael drew in a deep breath. It was time she stepped up and helped her older sister who had taken care of her from day one. And Bob. She couldn’t remember a time when Shar and Bob weren’t together. Bob was a surrogate older brother long before Shar made him lawfully so.

  She went across and gently nudged her sister aside.

  ‘I’ll finish this. You go and get ready. We’ll go to the hospital after we’ve dropped the kids off next door.’

  Shar spun around, her anxiety on display.

  ‘Why? They told us to wait for a call.’

  She didn’t answer for a few moments, her gaze fixed on the spot where not long ago she and Mike had been chatting when she thought she was home for an easy two-week break.

  How out of touch am I?

  On the drive up she’d divided her day into three categories: the
morning working, the afternoon with Nancy, and the evening a mix of work and family. Things weren’t lining up so easily.

  ‘We have to make a presence,’ she said at last, her voice strangely neutral. ‘Let them know we’re there and want to see Nancy.’

  ‘We do?’

  Rachael shut her eyes, her patience running low as she recalibrated how many hours were left in the day and what she still needed to do. ‘We do.’

  As it always did, her clipped tone sent Shar into action. In no time the kids were with Bob’s parents next door, and they were seated in Rachael’s car buckling up.

  ‘Wow,’ said Shar as she settled further into her seat. ‘I feel better already. You’re right, it’s much better to see Nancy, than to sit around waiting for a call.’

  She turned the ignition on.

  ‘There are no promises we’ll be seeing Nancy tonight.’

  Shar buckled up. ‘We will. With you there, we’ll see Nancy. I have no doubt.’

  Rachael grimaced. ‘I don’t always get my way.’

  She could feel Shar’s eyes on her, but kept her eyes on the road ahead.

  ‘Maybe not, but you know how to get results. Nancy’s got an award album full of pictures at all your prize-givings and award dinners. You get to wear some beautiful outfits and go to some classy places. My award album finished when I left school, yours is still going.’

  She glanced across at Shar. ‘I don’t do that every week.’

  ‘I can remember you writing up daily plans on our school holidays. I used to laugh at them, make jokes about them. Remember?’

  She remembered. ‘I’ve tried to forget.’

  ‘I haven’t. Look where those plans have landed you. Working in a top tier law firm in Sydney. You had goals and went for them. You get results, Rach, and results spell success, don’t they? You’re the most successful person I know.’

  Rachael swallowed hard, choking back her response. How could she tell Shar her dazzled view of success was wrong? That it wasn’t all cocktail parties and high-powered meetings? The reality of her life was anything but successful.

  She couldn’t remember the last successful relationship she’d had with anyone, let alone with a really nice guy; she was averaging a new secretary every two years and all complained of burn-out. She was consumed by work, and why not? It was the perfect excuse to hide away from dealing with the real world.