Beautiful Lies (24 page)

“Is she better?”

“Yes. Much better.”

“And I'll wager you nursed her through it, didn't you?” He smiled tenderly. “You're a real dinky-di bushie, May. You do whatever has to be done, don't you?”

“Perhaps you can help her eat? She is not well enough to be out of bed yet.”

He continued to smile, but he dropped his hands. “Is my father expected?”

“He told me nothing of his plans.”

“Has he helped with Mum?”

“No.” She saw no reason to protect Archer.

“Later, will you take a walk with me?”

She thought of the pearl hidden in the nest. Bryce would be tired from his time away, and he would sleep soundly tonight. If the skies stayed clear, if Viola slept soundly, too, if Archer didn't come home, perhaps she still had a chance.

“A small walk,” she told him. “But then you must rest. Your mother is better, but who will be next?”

“No worries. Nothing puts me crook.” He touched a long lock of hair draped over her shoulder. “Nothing except not being with you.”

 

Archer rode in about an hour after Bryce. He was flushed and irritable, and Mei suspected that whatever had stricken his wife was nibbling at him. He waved her away when she offered to bring food from the kitchen.

“Just let me sleep.”

He headed for a room in the back of the house, next to Bryce's. She couldn't believe her good fortune. Now Bryce would not feel as free to leave his own room with his father in the one beside his. With Archer ill and Bryce trapped, no one would know she wasn't asleep. If she waited until midnight, she could sneak outside and climb the tree.

If the pearl was there, it would be hers.

She had carefully thought out the rest of her plan. She would shred the nest, as if the rain had destroyed it and washed away its contents. Then she would hide the pearl somewhere other than her room, in case Viola discovered it was missing and suspected her. Archer and Bryce would be convinced Viola had truly lost her mind, particularly if she admitted she had hidden the pearl high in a tree.

Then, when Bluey came back at the end of the Wet, Mei would retrieve the pearl and leave with him. She would go back to Darwin and find work until she had saved enough to buy passage on a ship to California. At last she and Thomas would be reunited.

And Bryce would remain here at Jimiramira with his hateful parents and faded dreams of a better future.

Her heart was heavy. She could tell herself that Bryce was falling in love with her because he was ready for a woman and she was simply here in his house. But did that somehow explain the yearning she felt, too? They had been thrown together, but from their first meeting, she had felt that his heart was open to her, that she could see into it and read the sadness there.

She had not seen her enemy's son. She had seen a man worthy of love.

“May?”

She opened her eyes to find him standing before her.

“Your father is home,” she said softly. “No walk tonight.”

“I'll come and get you when they're both asleep.”

For a moment she was tempted. Then she realized that if he came, her resolve would lessen. Each time she was with Bryce, he mattered more. How long before the Pearl of Great Price became merely a curiosity and not the means of her family's salvation?

“No.” She stepped back. “Your father and mother disapprove. You must honor their wishes.”

“Did he say something to you?”

“He has said many things.”

“But I told you I'd protect you. You have nothing to worry about.”

“You are not here always. He sends you away. I cannot take a chance.”

“You
will
not.”

She turned away.

“My dad's a hard man, but he wouldn't hurt you, May. He's not capable of that.”

Archer was capable of so much more, but how could she tell Bryce what she knew? “Please, we cannot speak of this any more tonight.”

She heard a sigh behind her. “I'll see you in the morning.”

She waited until his footsteps had died away before she went to help ready Viola for bed.

It was dark by the time she finished her chores and put out the lanterns. Her room was unbearable, and she sat on her bed without undressing. The heat was so fierce, she was afraid that if she fell asleep, she wouldn't wake until morning.

She waited for what seemed like hours before she got up and changed into a dress that was a blue as dark as midnight, and she made sure to turn under the white collar. She braided her hair and pinned it high, then removed her shoes, despite fears of snakes and brambles. When she was ready, she edged open her door and stepped out into the hallway, listening carefully.

The house was quiet. Once before, she had sneaked outside, hardly daring to breathe. Tonight she didn't have to follow Viola, she only had to leave without attracting attention. With great care, stopping every few feet to listen, she did so.

The night was windy, as if another storm was building. Welcoming the breeze, she followed the shadows again, until she could cross to the trees. She rested for a long time, watching the house and the grounds around it in case anyone had spotted her. When she was finally satisfied she was alone, she started through the trees to find the nest.

She hadn't been to this place since the night she had
trailed Viola. Because of Viola's illness, there hadn't been any more walks. But she had no trouble finding the right tree. When it loomed above her, she gazed up into the lightly swaying branches, willing the nest to be there.

The night was too cloudy for her to see more than a few feet up into the lowest branches. She would have to climb to discover the fate of the nest. Unlike Viola, she had no plan to strip off her clothes, although she risked catching her skirt on a branch. But she knotted the skirt so that it rose above her knees and rolled back her sleeves.

Then, just as Viola had done, she stepped on top of the highest root and used it as a boost to reach the lowest branch. And slowly, carefully, she pulled herself up to the first limb.

Minutes passed before she reached her destination. The dress was clumsy, and although she was strong, she discovered that the height made her dizzy. Twice she closed her eyes and held on to the tree as if it were a bucking horse, until the world stopped whirling below her.

She reached the limb at last and stretched carefully along it, peering through the cover of fragrant gum leaves until she thought she saw the nest. But she wasn't as tall as Viola, and she saw she would have to edge out farther. She did so with the ground undulating in drunken waves below her. The limb drooped as she inched farther along its length, and when it swayed dangerously, she flailed her arms in terror.

And felt the nest.

She lay still, hardly daring to breathe until the limb stopped its protest. Then she tugged at the nest, moving it slowly and carefully toward her. When her grip was firm and the nest was freed from its home, she started back until she and the nest were safe in a crook of the tree.

She realized that her long journey to reclaim the Pearl of Great Price ended here. If the pearl was lodged at the bottom of the nest, from this moment forward it belonged to her. Everything still to come was insignificant.

But if the pearl was not here, if a stone or a shell lay at the nest's bottom, then her journey had been for nothing. She would never find the pearl. She would have to make a life without it.

Oddly, she wasn't sure which ending to hope for.

Above the ground in the swaying branches, she was cooler than she'd been in days. But her hands were sweating so badly that she had to take turns wiping them on her skirt. Finally, when there were no reasons to wait, she reached inside the nest and began her exploration.

The nest was rough inside as well as out, as if it had never been softened by the down of a baby bird or smoothed by the flutter of tiny wings. She moved her fingers slowly, feeling below twigs and under shreds of moss. But nothing was there.

She had seen Viola place something in the nest, hadn't she? She had
almost
seen it. Mei closed her eyes. Had her imagination run wild that night? She had been standing nearby, but not close enough to see everything. Had she been wrong?

She felt the contours of the nest again, this time tearing away the fragile inner lining as she progressed around the rim. But again she turned up nothing. The nest was empty and intact. She felt for holes. Was the pearl on the ground after all? Or had it washed into a nearby crevice?

But the nest, though rough, seemed secure. And what bird would build a home with a gap a tiny egg could slip through? If the storm had destroyed it, that would be different, but the storm had not.

She shook the nest angrily, then, methodically, carefully, she began to shred it, inch by inch, until it was a heap of broken twigs in the lap of her skirt.

She leaned back against the trunk and closed her eyes. There was no pearl here. There had never been a pearl in the nest, and she was as much a fool as Viola Llewellyn.

H
ours passed before Mei was able to sleep. When she finally closed her eyes, she dreamed she had fallen into a fiery pit. Something tugged at the edges of slumber, but she was so tired and the heat so paralyzing that she couldn't pull herself awake.

Then a scream split the darkness, and she bolted upright.

“You did this! You stole it!”

Precious seconds elapsed before Mei remembered where she was and the events of the night. She couldn't move or think clearly. Viola's screams were coming from outside, although Mei thought it was hours before dawn.

“You…did…this!”

Mei folded her arms over her chest and began to tremble. She wondered if Viola had seen her searching the nest. Had she watched, then waited for the opportunity to check it herself? Did she believe Mei had stolen the pearl?

She realized that the screams weren't coming closer. Then she heard a man's angry voice.

“Shut up, you bitch! I didn't steal anything!”

Mei recognized Archer's snarls, followed by Bryce's calmer tones. “Dad, she's not right, you know she isn't. Leave her alone. Please…”

“It's gone! You took it!”

Mei knew better than to join the fray in front of the homestead. Somewhere nearby a dog was howling in protest, and she thought she heard a shout from the direction of the men's quarters. She hastily slipped on her dressing gown and went into the parlor, where she could watch through a window, unseen.

The Llewellyns stood in a clump some yards from the house. Bryce had his hand on his father's arm, and Viola stood away from the men, but she was brandishing her fists like weapons.

“I want it back!”

“She's completely out of her mind. I'm going in.” Archer turned his back on his wife and started toward the veranda, but Viola launched herself at him. Before Bryce could stop her, she had thrown Archer off balance. He tripped and fell to one knee.

He whirled and grabbed Viola's arm and threw her to the ground beside him. Then he slapped her across the face. “Attack me, will you?”

“Dad!” Bryce grabbed Archer's hand before he could hit Viola again. The two men struggled, but Archer's desire to hit Viola seemed to fade.

Archer shoved his son away and got to his feet. “See to your mother.”

“I put it in a bird's nest. The nest is gone. It's nothing but sticks. Sticks.” Viola's voice dropped and she sat up. “You did this. I know you did.”

“You don't know
where
you put the fucking thing,” Archer shouted. “You haven't known for months, maybe
even longer. You've gone and lost our future, you stupid cow. You'll never find it again.”

Viola covered her face. “The nest is gone.”

Archer looked at his son, dismissing his wife as if she wasn't there. “When the Dry comes, I'm sending her away. Nothing you can do will stop it from happening. She's no use to anyone here.”

“Send her away and I'll go, too.”

“You'll stay right here. There's nothing you can do to help her. Damn it to hell, Bryce, most of the time she doesn't even know who you are!”

“I know who she is. She's my mum.”

“Would to God it weren't true.” Archer started toward the house. Mei knew she couldn't let him catch her watching. She went back to her room and quietly closed her door.

Minutes later she heard the sound of Bryce helping a sobbing Viola inside. She rose to light a lantern and went out, as if she had just awakened. “Is she ill?”

“At heart.” Bryce helped Viola into her room, and Mei followed. In the dim light, she could see that Viola's cheek was beginning to swell.

“He took it. He climbed the tree, and he stole it!” Viola's head swivelled back and forth. “He took it, and now he's going to send me away. I put it in the nest. He took it.”

Mei frowned at Bryce, as if she didn't know what Viola meant. He shook his head, as if to say it didn't matter.

“It's
my
pearl.” Viola gazed up at Mei, who was pouring water from a pitcher into the bowl on the bedside table. “My father gave it to me!”

Mei caught Bryce's eye. He shrugged.

“In the morning,” Mei told her, “you will find it again. We will help you look.”

“Start with his pockets, then! That's where you'll find it.”

Mei bathed Viola's cheek and helped her into bed. “Maybe you only had a dream? Maybe you dreamed about a nest? Tomorrow you will remember better.”

Viola curled into a pathetic ball on the mattress and covered her face with her arm.

“Maybe we should leave the lantern for her?” Mei said without thinking.

Bryce shook his head. “No, we can't.”

If Mei had found the pearl, she would have stolen it herself. Despite that, she felt compassion for Viola, who was curled as tightly as a baby in its mother's womb. Wherever Archer sent his wife could not be worse than Jimiramira, but at the heart of Viola's sadness was the loss of what little power she had wielded. The pearl had stood between her and utter impotence. She had nothing to take its place.

Bryce took the lantern before they went into the hall. She followed him to the parlor, where he set it down.

“You will leave Jimiramira as you told your father?” Mei asked softly, no longer pretending that she hadn't heard it all.

“Too right. I should have left years ago.”

“This is your home.”

“Home's supposed to be more than a peg to hang your trousers and a billabong to fill your billy, isn't it? The people who live there are supposed to love you, aren't they, and love each other?”

She thought about her own home, gone now. But the warm memories of Willow stayed with her. “That is not always the way of things.” She touched his arm. “But this is your home.”

“Any station in the Territory would be glad to have me. I'll be off when she goes.” He lowered his voice. “Come with me.”

“I could not stay at Jimiramira if your mother was gone, and if you—”

“I mean, come with
me.
Come wherever I do. It won't be much of a life at first, but we can make something of it. I know cattle.” His voice grew softer, but more intense. “Someone will hire me, and you can work at the homestead. Maybe later we could find a place of our own to manage. You'd be the boss's wife. You'd like that, wouldn't you? I could take care of you, May.”

She saw the evening's events in his eyes. He had suffered, and now he needed her. No one had ever loved him, not the way he deserved, and now he was asking her to be the first.

“Bryce…” She tried not to imagine Archer lying in a bed not far away, straining to hear them. “Go to bed now. This is not the time to think of the future. You need to sleep, to—”

He put his arms around her waist and hauled her up against him. If their first kiss had been sweet exploration, this one was raw need. She didn't have time to protect herself, to remember why she had come to this place or what a failure her mission had been. She was enveloped by sensations as old as their island continent.

She let him draw her so close that she could feel his body changing through the thin cotton of her gown. He was muscle and sinew, and his lips were as demanding as the life he had led. She molded herself to him, and for a moment she was part of something beyond herself, beyond thought and plan and mission. She was simply, gloriously, a woman.

Then Bryce was sprawling on the floor and Archer had his hands at her throat. “You slant-eyed bitch! I told you to leave my son alone!”

She couldn't even scream. She gasped and struggled, but Archer squeezed tighter. A strong wind swept through
the room and everything suddenly went dark as Bryce leapt from the floor and grabbed his father's arms. Archer was strong, but his son was younger and more determined. He wrenched Archer's hands from her throat and dragged him away. Mei gulped air as if she would never have enough again.

The two men rolled on the floor, trading punches. She screamed at last, but there was no one to hear and help. The station hands and stockmen were too far away, and the woman curled on her bed in the next room was as powerless as she was.

“Stop!” She moved away as they crashed toward her, aware that she didn't have the strength to separate them. “You must stop!”

She could see that Bryce was on top of his father now, his hands gripping Archer's shoulders. He lifted and slammed his father against the floor, once, twice, before Archer threw him to the ground. They traded punches, but Bryce's were more precise. Archer faltered, his next punch aimed wildly into space.

“Stop!” Mei danced around them, and when the opportunity arose, she grabbed Bryce's arm. “Enough! Stop, Bryce.”

He seemed to hear her for the first time. He went rigid, although he easily deflected Archer's next blow. Then he moved out of his father's range and got to his feet.

Archer sat up. “You little bastard! You're…not my son….”

“Too bad it's not true!” Bryce opened his mouth and brushed his fingertips across his jaw.

Archer spat blood on the floor. “First your mother, now you.”

“Yeah, and you know what we've got in common, Dad? Have a good look in the mirror sometime.”

“I told you to stay away from this girl!”

“And why should I listen to you?” Bryce went to Mei's side. He was still breathing hard. “I'm going to marry May, and you can't stop it. I don't want you or this property or anything about it. I'll make my way without you.”

Archer stared at him. “I did this…everything…I did everything for you.”

“Everything?” Bryce laughed bitterly. “What have you done, Dad? Built this bloody awful house? Raised some cattle? Do you think any of that matters now?”

Mei stepped forward, shaking off Bryce's arm. She had come to Jimiramira for the pearl and revenge against the Llewellyns. But now she realized how little she wanted the latter. There was nothing she could take from Archer and Viola, because they possessed nothing of importance. No love, no character, no honor. She couldn't take the pearl, because it had disappeared. And now she couldn't bear to take their son. Not this way. Because Bryce was not a means to an end. He was so much more.

She loved him.

The revelation startled and strengthened her. She drew herself to her full height. “You must stop. Please, go to bed. Both of you. These words shame you.” She didn't look at Bryce, because she was afraid if she did, she would begin to cry.

“This is my house.” Archer got to his feet. “Don't tell me what to do.”

She turned away, and Bryce caught her hand, but she shook him off. “Then
I
will go to bed. And I will think about tomorrow and the things that should be said only then!” She started through the house, but neither man followed her. Once she reached her room, she closed the door
and pushed her trunk against it for protection from Archer. Then she began to cry.

She was still crying minutes later when she heard a soft tapping. “May? Please, open the door.”

She shook her head, as if Bryce could see her.

“May…please?”

“Go away.”

“There's nothing we can say tomorrow that will change a thing. Tell me you'll come away with me then. May…”

She was silent, stuffing her fist against her mouth to resist temptation.

He went away at last.

The room was unbearable, but she lay on the bed without stirring. Not everything that had transpired tonight was her fault, but she
was
responsible for some of it. She had not taken the pearl, but she had stolen the real treasure of Jimiramira from Archer and Viola. She had stolen their son.

Whatever the reason, Bryce loved her, and while part of her exulted that this young man, straight and strong and brimming with vitality, wanted her, another part knew how unlucky this was, how doomed for misfortune.

The Northern Territory was vast and largely unpopulated by Europeans. But despite its size and isolation, gossip was lovingly tended and broadcast by every passing swagman and cattle drover, every supply wagon and camel caravan, every lonely settler who crossed desert or gibber plain to attend a far-flung race meeting. How long before someone who had known her in Broome discovered that Mei-Zhen Robeson had traveled to the Territory? How quickly would the story of Tom Robeson's murder make its way to Bryce? How many moments before he realized it was not a coincidence she had found her way to Jimiramira?

How many heartbeats before he understood she had come here to steal the pearl?

And would he believe her when she told him that she had never found it? That she had not taken it from the nest where his mother claimed to have hidden it? She imagined the betrayal Bryce would feel, and at last, with tears on her cheeks, she fell into a restless, anguished sleep.

She dreamed she stood beside the billabong as smoke plumes rose into an outback dawn. The sky was streaked with fingers of light; the homestead was a candle blazing brightly to ward off the terrors of night.

She wasn't frightened. The homestead had never been a home, and between the fire break and the Wet, the blaze would be contained. As flames shot from windows and the veranda crumpled in a shower of sparks, she thought of vast stretches of wilderness she had seen on the trip to Jimiramira, burned to the ground by the local Aborigines so that richer possibilities could emerge. This ancient people had tended the earth with fire since the beginning of the Dream-time. New growth emerging from the seeds of old, life emerging from death.

As the smoke billowed higher, she felt a profound sense of peace. She drew a breath, the preliminary to a contented sigh. Instead her lungs filled with smoke, and as her eyes widened in horror, ashes stung her cheeks.

“May!”

She was losing consciousness. The blaze before her began to fade; the dawn turned into blackest night. She fought to keep her eyes fixed on the fire, to will herself to stay awake.