10. Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine
BETH
Twenty-One Months Later
The Fremantle Herald office buzzed with activity. The scuttle of tapping keyboards mixed with the hum of multiple phone conversations as the editorial team raced to make the deadline. Beth peered over the cubicle divider. “I’ve finished my jobs. Do you need me to help with anything? I can hear you huffing and puffing from here.”
Melanie smiled through the loose strands dangling over her shiny forehead, the rest of her hair in a tight ponytail. “Yes, please. I’m not going to make it otherwise.”
“What do you need?”
“We have a small space left on page sixteen. Can you do a quick article for me?”
Beth blinked. “An article? In thirty minutes? You’ve really left things to the last minute. Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“I had plans on what to write, and it’s only two hundred words.” She blew the wispy ringlets away from her face. “Time got away from me.”
“Okay. What do I write about?” Any chance for an article was an opportunity Beth would take. Sub-copying had long fallen into drudgery.
“Just an announcement about the U.S Navy ship coming into port this weekend.” Melanie handed over a yellow post-it sticky note. “Here’s the name of the ship, and the basic schedule.”
Beth took the paper between her forefinger and thumb, holding it out like it was covered in contagious germs. Melanie angled her screen and got back to work.
What was Beth’s problem? Lachlan wouldn’t be on board. She’d received one of his newsletter emails a few months ago. The one where she’d been blind carbon copied like the rest of his family and friends.
Beth lowered herself into the cushioned chair. Oh, Lachlan had proved to be such a disappointment. Just the thought of him stirred anger within her. She’d poured out her soul about losing the Quokka story, and his cold response had infuriated her. Some counselor. No validation, no empathy for her. She ground her teeth.
She had explained in detail how the suspect developers diverted their interest into upgrading Christmas Island instead. The health of the Quokkas had improved dramatically since the investigation started. The link seemed obvious to her. Pacific Master Builders must’ve realized they were being observed and focused on other developments.
Lachlan had responded with one line. One. Line. At least the Quokkas are okay.
She growled under her breath as she tapped her keyboard to wake her computer.
Of course, she wanted the Quokkas safe. What did he take her for? Did he think she was just about getting a big story? Becoming a famous journalist? Ridiculous. Readers hardly glanced at the author’s name. She had only wanted to report important news that exposed the truth. Those developers should have been brought to justice. Over four hundred Quokkas had died. The possibility that Sergeant Andrews had taken a bribe still irked her. Why else would he drop the case so easily? No evidence, he’d said. Unlikely.
She pounded Lachlan’s name into her email search bar. Where was he now? Nowhere near Australia, but she wanted to double-check.
For a year, she received an occasional email from him. Usually monthly, with a few questions pertaining to how she was, how the charity was doing. Chris’s family. Her work. He had nothing much to say. Maybe his job didn’t allow for much detail. As a counselor, he wouldn’t share counseling information, and the Navy might require him to keep things vague as far as their location and projects.
Beth scrolled through the list of emails from Lachlan. The second year of their communication, he’d converted to a general newsletter. She had still replied with some chit-chat of what was happening in her part of the world, but usually, he responded with no more than two sentences. The last email was dated several months ago. It didn’t state his whereabouts. Anyway, what did she care? Her heart had kept Lachlan Peters at bay, far away, so he couldn’t disappoint her.
Beth read the sticky note. USS Independence II arriving Saturday. Two weeks in Fremantle. Four weeks at Exmouth Naval Base for training.
She googled for more information and gave the article her best effort. Once it left her workstation, it would go to press.
On Saturday, Beth placed an AA brochure on every third seat while the homeless stumbled into the building.
That morning they had a small band as light entertainment. The band would be busking in Fremantle later that day, but Dad had convinced them to drop in for a small donation.
The guitarist tuned his strings, and the keyboardist set up his amplifier.
Beth spotted their most dedicated volunteer. “Hello, Mrs. Morrison. Those colors look great on you. I like your necklace. Nice match.” Beth shook the older woman’s frail hand. White pigeon wings fluffed at her temples, softening her crowning tight perm.
“And you look lovely too, dear. It’s nice to see a young woman still wearing dresses these days. A rare sight, indeed.” Her pink, painted lips lifted in a smile.
“Thank you.” Beth rubbed her shoulder. Such a sweet old lady.
Nigel and Issy rocked up next, holding hands as newlyweds. Isabel’s face glowed. Was she pregnant already? She said at thirty-six, she didn’t want to wait long.
“Hey, you two.” Beth shook Nigel’s hand and gave Issy a gentle hug.
A moment later, in came three newcomers. All of the men had the same haircut, short back and sides, one-inch wedge at the front. Sailors. Uh. What were they doing here? They thought they could get a free breakfast?
Beth pasted on a smile, cringing on the inside. She shouldn’t be quick to judge. They might have heard of the community service project and wanted to learn how the Aussies did it. They weren’t here to pick up women. The pubs would be better for that.
The first man nodded and shook her hand in both of his palms. “Good morning, ma’am.” He had a strong American accent, and although they weren’t in uniform, she had no doubt they were from the USS Independence II .
“Welcome.”
The second sailor, likely in his early twenties, flashed straight teeth and bounced on his toes.
“G’day, sheila,” he winked.
Beth’s eyes widened, and she nearly choked. Seriously? Who was this idiot? “Hi.”
He laughed. “Just wanted to say that, pretend I’m one of the locals. Sorry, ma’am.”
“We don’t talk like that in the cities. Maybe some do in the outback, but not here.”
His face turned pink.
Lastly, a tall man with a medium build, perhaps a little older than her, stepped up next. “Good morning, ma’am. Don’t mind him, it’s his first time out of the States.” He took Beth’s hand and shook it slowly. “I’m Nick. We hope you don’t mind us having a look around at what you do. We’ve heard good things about Habor of Hope.” His smile seemed genuine.
“You’re welcome. There’s a small office in the back foyer. You won’t be able to have the breakfast, of course, but there’s a barista machine and I’m sure there’s some muffins in the fridge.”
“Sounds great. Thank you.” He squeezed her hand and made his way to the other side of the hall.
Beth continued to greet the homeless and direct them to seats, but her mind kept drifting to the sailors. She would avoid the foyer if she could. Dad could do the socializing today. She’d find some excuse to keep busy or get Mrs. Morrison talking.
After breakfast was served, Beth managed to float around the hall, chatting with the people she’d known for months now and a few for years. She kept herself from Dad’s line of sight to avoid having to entertain the sailors. She shivered.
With car keys in her hand, she lingered about the front foyer, packing away the brochures promoting upcoming fundraisers or support groups.
“There you are.” Dad strode over.
She feigned a smile. “Dad.”
“The Americans are coming to my place for brunch. Can you grab four barbeque chickens and roast meals from Chicken Treat on the way over? Salad bowls too. They probably eat a lot.”
“Really? I wanted to have the afternoon to relax. Can you order home delivery?”
Dad’s brows furrowed. “Bethany Michaels, you’re 2IC. These guys might make a big donation. They’d be loaded with cash and can’t spend it on the seas.”
“They’d be better off sightseeing in Fremantle. Did you invite them over? They may feel obliged.”
Dad adjusted his posture. “The one called Nick suggested lunch. He wants to know more about what we do.”
“Okay. But I’ll leave straight after that.” Beth switched off the photocopier behind her and collected her phone. “Who else is coming?”
“I’ve had little time to organize anything, so it’s just the five of us.”
“All right. I’ll get the food and see you soon.”
Beth stood behind the black granite counter and plated the chicken pieces onto five plates. The crispy skin smelled delicious. Still, she peeled it back from her drumstick. Extra fat she didn’t need. But she couldn’t resist the chips and popped one into her mouth. Nick flashed a grin her way. Caught.
In the dining room, Dad, Nick, and two younger sailors chatted with enthusiasm around the table. Nick seemed to dominate the conversation with his animated stories of what they had achieved in the last few months. Helping in crisis and whatnot. Then something Nick spoke about grabbed her attention. The conversation went in a whole other direction.
“I woke up from a dream, dripping with sweat. I wrote all the vivid details.” He opened his palms. “A map of the world rolled out before me. Next, a golden jug appeared, and a transparent liquid poured over the Middle East, then spread to cover the whole surface of the map. Then, the scroll rolled onto itself until it disappeared, and I woke.”
“Wow,” Dad said. “That’s a fascinating dream. Have you had it interpreted?”
Oh, boy. Dad would love this stuff.
“Not yet.” Nick clapped his hands. “But I googled dream interpretations and I believe it’s something to do with investments. That I need to visit the Middle East and make my fortune. I could give so much more to organizations like yours. I wouldn’t keep it all for myself.”
Beth rolled her eyes as she spooned portions of coleslaw and chips as she listened to the men discussing dreams. Dad was in his element, and it seemed he’d found a kindred spirit in Nick.
She moved around the counter and placed two plates at a time on the Tasmanian Oak table. Each person acknowledged her with thanks, but when she gave one to Nick, he paused and met her eyes. “Thank you, Beth. Thanks for hosting us today.”
“You’re welcome.” Her earlobes heated from the attention he gave her.
She sat in the empty chair opposite Nick and next to Dad.
“Beth.” Nick smiled in her direction. “Have you ever wanted to go to places like Turkey, Israel, or Palestine? Amazing history there.”
Shredded carrot lodged in her throat. She took a sip of water as all eyes directed to her. “I haven’t traveled out of Australia yet. It would be amazing to visit another culture.”
Dad lifted his brow. “I didn’t know you had the desire to visit the Middle East, Beth.”
“I haven’t given it much thought. Our lifestyle hasn’t allowed for any such plans.”
Dad placed his hands in his lap. “But now all your siblings have grown, and the centre has a stable volunteer team, you’d be free to travel.”
Wow, this was the first time she’d heard Dad say anything of the sort. To have his encouragement to leave the nest entirely? Her belly fluttered. The possibilities.
Nick swallowed his food and patted the corners of his mouth with a serviette. “I’ve decided to leave the Navy and pursue investments overseas. This will be my last voyage. After a total of six weeks in Australia, we head home. I’ll settle my things in Los Angeles, and visit some potential investors before traveling.”
Nick turned to Dad. “I would appreciate it, if you would keep me in your thoughts and stay in contact. I’d like to donate to your organization regularly once the profits roll in.”
“Gladly.” Dad nodded.
After lunch, they moved to the family room. Dad turned on his old stereo and all five of them found a seat on the couches.
Nick positioned himself next to Beth, which didn’t surprise her at all. He’d seemed drawn to her and often directed questions her way during lunch.
Nick seemed to lead the conversation again. Mostly about commodities but he seemed to have a deeply spiritual side to him also. She didn’t feel any attraction to him, but he did give out a peaceful vibe. He was super confident, anyway.
When it was time to go, Nick shook her dad’s hand first then he held onto her hand a little longer than necessary. She bit back a smile. Beth couldn’t deny the ego boost of having a man appreciate her.
They all meandered to the door, and just before they left, Nick turned to Beth “Would you do us the pleasure of showing us around town tomorrow? It would be nice to have a local take us to the popular spots. Are you free at noon or after work tomorrow?”
She gave a shy smile. “I can take the morning off. My work’s flexible, and I have some hours owed to me.”
Dad looked at her with an inquisitive eye and grinned. Usually, he became overprotective of her when it came to men. But obviously, Nick had gained his favor.
“Even better. Can you meet me at the coffee stand opposite the port? It’s in the parking lot there.”
Had he said, “me”? Weren’t the others coming?
Beth fiddled with her necklace. “Sure. Nine o’clock.”
His grin reached his captivating green eyes. “Perfect.”