One Little White Lie (10 page)

She folded her arms, trying not to show that she was weakening. ‘I need you to be honest with me from now on, Henry. No more secrets.'

He nodded.

‘And no more lies.'

‘Come over to my place tonight.' He took her hands. ‘You said you wanted to meet H. L. Carter. Well, here I am. You can see where I live and ask me any questions you like. I won't hold back.'

She hesitated.

‘Come on.' That smile of his melted her bones. ‘What do you have to lose?'

She looked at her feet.
More than you know.

But she had no willpower when it came to Henry. Even now she found herself replying, before she realised she'd even made the decision.

‘All right. I'll be there.'

Henry's feet could not stop moving. He crossed the room for the tenth time, glancing up at the clock. Kate was due to arrive in five minutes. The doorbell rang.

She was early.

He squared his shoulders. Who knew that being yourself could be so nerve-wracking? Not wanting to dwell too much on that point, he hurried to the front door and opened it.

Kate's blonde curls were loose and soft about her shoulders. She was wearing a V-necked white jumper and fitted grey slacks that accentuated her small but curvaceous frame. A silver pendant hung about her perfect, slender neck.

‘Er … hi?' She raised one hand self-consciously. Her smile was just worried enough to give his rapidly beating heart a confidence boost.

‘Come in.' With a gesture before him, he stepped back to allow her to pass through. She moved into the small foyer and the sweet scent of her perfume filled his nostrils.

‘So …' she began, clearly wanting to fill the silence as he shut the door. ‘What did you do this afternoon?'

His laugh mocked himself. ‘Since I'm being
absolutely
honest tonight, I'd have to say, worry.'

‘Oh.' A shy flush coloured her face.

‘Would you like a drink?' he asked.

‘Sure.'

She followed him down the short hall and he caught himself waiting for her reaction as his apartment opened out into the main living area.

Would he see that calculated expression he'd seen so many times on the faces of his previous girlfriends when he'd brought them home for the first time? That shuttered look they got when they started mentally price tagging.

Kate's steps slowed as her eyes passed over the modern kitchen built for a chef with its shiny white tiles and state of the art fittings. But she walked past it to the mahogany dining table that was clearly an original. Yet still she did not stop there. Her feet took her forward, her eyes brushing past the expensive canvases on the wall, the luxurious green couches and the polished coffee table. She continued until she reached the bookshelf along one wall and picked up the inexpensive silver photo frame sporting a picture of himself, his dad and Tom, arms around each other, fists raised in victory at the last Grand Final.

She lightly touched the glass with her fingertips. ‘So this is your brother? Tom, right? You look so much alike.'

He expelled the breath he'd unconsciously been holding and joined her. ‘He'll be devastated to hear you say that.'

He couldn't believe he had doubted her. Even for a second.

‘You dedicated your first book to him,' she said as she replaced the photo on the bookshelf. ‘And your second book to your father.'

‘Yes,' he raised his eyebrows. ‘You noticed.'

‘I've read your books so many times and I'll always remember your message for your brother. I thought it was funny and sweet.'

He recalled what he wrote:
For Tom, you know me better than anyone and yet you're still here.

He felt himself redden. ‘Thanks.'

‘You never dedicated the third book in the trilogy to anyone.' She turned away from the bookshelf to face him again. ‘Why?'

He frowned. ‘I don't know … Nobody stood out at the time.' He paused. ‘Actually, thinking back on it now, I guess I have this subconscious rule only to dedicate books to people I love. A novel is such a huge undertaking, each book is a parallel existence I've lived for a year or more. I want to give that blood, sweat and tears to someone special.'

‘Oh,' was all she replied.

He gestured to the front of the couch. ‘Why don't you sit down and I'll get that drink? What would you like? Wine, a soft drink, a beer?'

She smiled as she sat down. ‘I'll have whatever you're having.'

He returned a minute later with two glasses of red and a plate of cheese and crackers.

‘So what do you want to talk about?'

‘You,' she responded without hesitation. ‘I feel like you already know everything about me.'

He laughed. ‘OK.'

They talked easily about his life, before and after the Carnegia Trilogy, his journey to publication and the actual methods he used to plot stories. He loved hearing her opinions about his work. Some were critical, but he expected that. She was Kate, after all – strong, insightful, and smart.

As time slipped away, he happened to glance at his watch. ‘I didn't realise how late it was getting. You must be famished. Should we have dinner?'

‘Sounds great,' she agreed. ‘Can I help you set up?'

‘No, no.' He stood up. ‘You relax. Finish your wine. There're magazines under the coffee table. I won't be a moment.'

He left her to heat the food he had cooked earlier.

 

As Henry left the room, Kate fell back onto the cushions. A wistful smile curling her lips. It was hard not feel like the cat who'd got the cream. Maybe this was the beginning of something really special. With a bounce in her movements, she put her empty wine glass on the coffee table and reached beneath it, pulling out a pile of magazines.

She flipped through them absentmindedly. There were a number of publications for writers, some
Australian Geographic
journals and
Time
. But as she cut the deck in half she found a thin beige folder wedged in between.

Printed in small black letters on the front of the file was her full name.

A cold chill froze her spine.

Like a magnet drawn to steel, her hand automatically reached for it. Just as her fingers closed about the spine, she heard Henry return to the room.

‘Kate, dinner is –'

She ignored him, completely fixated on the file. Her heart was boxed, it could scarcely beat.

‘Kate?'

As he came up behind her, she walked away, flipping the folder open with trembling fingers. Finally he seemed to realise what was going on.

‘Oh no, Kate! You weren't supposed to see that.'

‘
No kidding
.'

She stared in numb horror at the contents. Every parking ticket and speeding fine she had ever received was printed on a traffic infringement report. There were copies of her high school and university grades, bank reports, statements by past landlords. Her full medical history was there. There were even photos of her. Ones she hadn't known were being taken.
Shots of her at university, outside her apartment, coming out of yoga. There was even a shot of her having coffee with Lisa.

‘Kate, it's not what you're thinking.'

Fury fried her senses. ‘And what
am
I thinking, Henry?' she said in voice that sounded like a stranger's. She dropped the file so that the documents and pictures scattered on the ground at her feet. Henry took a step towards her but stopped moving when she took a giant step back. ‘I was right about you knowing everything about me, wasn't I?' The words tasted like acid on her tongue. ‘I just didn't know how much!'

‘Kate, I only know what you've told me, I swear it.'

Her anger escalated, making her feel light-headed. ‘I can't believe it.' She put a hand to her temple. ‘I can't believe you can continue to stand there lying to me when the evidence is all around us.'

‘If you'll just let me explain.'

‘You can't explain this, Henry,' she said, not knowing who she wanted to slap first. Herself, for almost being sucked in again, or him for being so damn good at it.

‘Yes I can.' His reply was quick and hoarse. He came towards her as he spoke. ‘You see, my brother Tom, he –'

But she dodged his hands, repelled by the thought of him touching her.

‘Don't try to blame your family for your actions again.
You had me investigated
.' Her voice struggled to utter the words, as if they were being forcibly drawn from her. ‘I've never felt more violated in my entire life.'

Nausea threatened to overcome her as she visualised him sorting through his research, judging her like lab data. What had he decided about her when he discovered where she went to school, what she had for breakfast and if she paid her bills on time? Her skin itched as though dirty. She shook with revulsion.

‘Kate.' His voice was urgent, desperate even. ‘It's not my file.'

‘It's only in
your
apartment and under
your
coffee table.' She threw the words across the room. ‘Why, Henry?
Why?
' Her fingers curled into fists. ‘Was it to see if I was good enough for the great H. L. Carter?'

He blanched. ‘I would never ask that.'

‘How can I believe you?' Her voice shook.

‘Kate.' He made haste to reassure her. ‘This is a big misunderstanding. I did not have you investigated. That file is not mine. It's not even meant to be here. I –'

As he embarked upon yet another lie, Kate closed her eyes and her mind.

‘I can't listen to this.' She put a hand to her mouth as her ribcage heaved. It was all she could do just to keep it together. She refused to fall apart in front of him. She owed herself that much.

Spinning away, she headed for the door.

‘Kate, where are you going?'

‘Home,' she tossed over her shoulder.

‘Please, stay. Let's talk about this.'

She stopped walking but didn't turn around. The sight of him was doing nasty things to her insides. ‘Why? So you can lie to me some more?' she choked. ‘I can't believe I thought I could trust you.'

‘There must be some way I can prove to you that I'm telling the truth,' Henry uttered desperately and she spared him a glance.

‘That's just it, Henry. You shouldn't have to prove it.'

‘But there's more to this than you know.'

His words spurred a fury in her. ‘
I know enough!
'

If misery were a body of water, Kate was drowning in an ocean of it. A new day brought no release. She kept asking herself the same question over and over again.

How could I have been so stupid?

Again!

What Henry had done was unforgivable. More reprehensible than pretending to be her boyfriend, more inexcusable than keeping his real identity from her. It was the worst personal insult she had ever received from anyone. It tainted everything else they had shared, every caring word he had ever spoken to her. He wasn't the man she thought he was.

Hell! She had no idea who he was.

The man she was in love with didn't exist.

That was the saddest thing of all.

The Realisation that, despite everything, she had fallen for him.

In the days that followed she applied her usual regime for severe depression. She ate a bus load of chocolate, watched a stack of bad movies and bought herself a pile of clothes she didn't really need. It was a pity she couldn't add to this her usual ‘pick-me-up' read by H. L. Carter. But that wasn't going to work this time for obvious reasons.

Lisa begged her to come out. Go dancing. Take her mind off things. Funny how her best friend was using the exact same tactics she had employed to help Kate get over Mark. But Kate couldn't face the night life. It only made her think of Henry and the fateful way he had walked into her life. Like a dream coming true.

One week passed and then another. She threw herself back into the only thing she had left.

Her thesis.

It turned out to be the best way she had to keep her mind off Henry, who continued to call her every day. She didn't listen to any of his voicemail messages. After all, what could he say now that he hadn't said before?

She started staying at university later because the four walls of her apartment were getting too quiet. It was too easy to think in there. On Tuesday, she found herself deciding to skip yoga.

What if he turned up like he did last time? She just couldn't deal with it.

Instead, she stayed late at university and bought herself dinner at the cafeteria. She was just sitting down to eat a rather unappetising meat pie when a male voice hailed her.

‘Ms Dreson?'

She stopped and turned around to discover a tall, handsome stranger observing her. She recognised him immediately from Henry's photograph. He wasn't as good looking as Henry but he came close to it, his cheeky smile at odds with the seriousness of his executive cut black suit.

What does he want?

‘Sorry to bother you,' he said as if reading the discomfort in her eyes. ‘But can we talk? I'm Henry's brother, Tom.'

‘I know who you are.' She squared her shoulders. ‘There's nothing you can say that will make me forgive Henry for what he did.'

‘Oh, I'm not here to make you forgive him.' Tom tossed her an unapologetic smile. ‘I'm here so he'll forgive
me
.'

‘Forgive you for what?'

‘Having you investigated.'

Her back immediately stiffened.

‘You could say, we had a rather heated discussion a couple of weeks ago and I came off second best.' His twisted smile mocked himself. ‘Given I'm the lawyer in the family, that doesn't happen often.'

Kate was completely unsympathetic. ‘So you had an argument. It's nothing to do with me.'

Tom shook his head. ‘It's everything to do with you. Normally he's got over it by now. But this time it's different. I've never seen him more angry … more affected. And that's why I needed to set the record straight. I was the one who hired the private detective and had you investigated.'

‘Why?'

‘He's my little brother. I wanted to protect him.' Tom shrugged. ‘Henry is blameless. He didn't even know about the investigation until I gave the file to him.'

‘He still took it.' Kate looked away.

‘Not exactly.' Tom rubbed his hands together awkwardly. ‘He was furious with me. We fought about it. He chucked it on the coffee table and told me to take it and leave. I did leave. But I didn't take it. I …' He frowned. ‘I hid it under the coffee table in between his magazines, hoping he'd find it later when he was less moody and have a read.'

‘He didn't know that you hid it there?'

‘Of course not,' Tom scoffed. ‘Henry's an idealist, but he's not dumb. Do you honestly think if he knew about the file he would have left it in plain sight for you to find when you came over?'

Her hands were clammy and her pulse erratic. ‘I suppose not.' Could she afford to believe him? Her heart was already in a million little pieces.

‘So you see, this situation is not as black and white as you think it is.'

Kate studied his face and, like a true lawyer, he automatically took the opportunity to expand on his argument.

‘If you want someone to blame for the hurt you feel now, blame me.'

Kate shut her eyes. ‘There's nothing I'd love to do more.'

‘But?'

I've given Henry too many chances already.

She examined her thumbnail as possibilities whirred through her head. Should she forgive and forget? Take yet another chance?

‘I thought you might take a little convincing so I brought this with me.'

He reached into his briefcase and withdrew a thick paperback. It was the first book in Henry's new trilogy,
The Warlords of Mantigon
.

She blinked at the glossy cover sitting mere inches from her. ‘That book isn't due out for another month.'

‘Henry gave it me. It's one of his advance copies. Open it.'

She bit her lip, indecision making her dizzy. Finally, with trembling fingers, she reached over and turned to the first page.

For Kate, you made me believe again.

She gasped as the words blurred. Her heart filled, brimmed and overflowed. As she remembered other words spoken not so long ago.

I guess I have this subconscious rule only to dedicate books to people I love
.

‘Kate,' Tom's soft voice only just penetrated her ears, ‘if you love my brother, don't let pride get in the way of your happiness.'

Her spine stiffened. ‘What makes you think I love him?'

‘Because you're crying.'

Her hand went involuntarily to her cheeks and her fingers came away wet. Pushing out his chair, Tom stood up and buttoned his jacket.

‘Good luck.' And then with a small nod he left her wiping the tears that stained her bright red face.