Chapter Six
“David!” His mother held out her arms to him.
Without taking his eyes off Dana, he stepped into his mother’s hug.
“Hi, David.” Caitlin stood on tiptoes and kissed him. “It’s nice to see you; is everything all right?”
“I don’t know.” His eyes were still on Dana. “I hope so. I heard about your interview with Sean Murray. Are you okay?”
Dana lifted her chin. “Am I okay?” she asked, putting enough incredulity in her voice to make him wince.
“I can’t believe you’re asking me that. No, I’m not okay.
I had to hear from a stranger that you were the one who put the story about my dad on the front page of a newspaper before you knew your facts.
” She rubbed a hand over her face. “And you didn’t tell me.
You…” She hesitated, but what the hell, they all knew about it anyway.
“You kissed me, but you didn’t tell me you were responsible for leaking the story. ”
“I never knew Gareth Roux was your father. Don only mentioned it during Zoe and Dale’s wedding. I was going to talk to you about it this weekend—”
“And what? Lie to me? Give me a watered-down version of the facts?”
David stared at her, his hands resting on his hips. His eyes turned to slits. “I don’t lie,” he said in a clipped voice and turned to Caitlin.
“I heard Dana’s car broke down, and I’m here to take her to Hermanus.”
Caitlin glanced in her direction quickly. “I…” she began, but Rosa interrupted, pushing Dana toward the front door.
“What a splendid idea. I wasn’t going to be able to keep Donato as long as I hoped; I have to go back to the restaurant. So now I can visit my grandbaby, and Caitlin doesn’t have to drive all the way to Hermanus and drive back alone.”
Dana ground her teeth. She was positive Rosa was embellishing the truth a little bit, and she was being coerced into going with David. She glared daggers at him, but he ignored her and kissed his mother.
She didn’t want to spend any more time with him than was necessary, but she also would prefer Caitlin didn’t drive all the way to Hermanus and back. And he knew it, damn it!
Swallowing her frustration, she said her goodbyes and followed David to his car.
*
After an hour, Dana still hadn’t spoken a word, but David could feel every pulse of the resentment just about radiating from her body.
The only words she’d spoken were to direct him to her house.
“You are obviously angry with me, and I want to explain the whole thing to you, but I want to know you’ll listen.” He turned down another street she indicated.
“So talk.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the seat.
David turned his head and stared at her, not sure whether he wanted to throttle her or kiss her. “Why did you speak to Sean Murray?”
Her eyes flashed. “Because I’ve been looking for answers for two years, and he was the first definite lead I got.
Talking to the police has been a fruitless exercise.
I eventually started emailing newspapers and got hold of Sean.
And he told me that you”—she pointed at him—“were the one who implicated my dad. And my dad”—she swallowed—“is innocent! I know him. He would never have stolen other people’s money; he would never have committed suicide.
And I have to prove it; nobody else is interested in clearing his name.
That’s why I’m trying to find out what happened.
That’s why I talked to Sean. I hoped I would get answers.
What I didn’t expect to hear was that a guy who kissed me is the same person who spilled the story. And didn’t think to tell me about it.”
Her accusations sliced through him like a sharp sword.
Wow. He hadn’t known she was looking into her father’s case and that she was talking to other journalists about it.
If he had, he would have made time to talk to her on the plane, but, of course, talking didn’t seem important when he was around Dana lately.
It wasn’t anything he hadn’t told himself before. He should never have taken half the story to the editor, but he’d wanted to make sure he would get the front page when he had finished the story.
Well, he got the front page, just not on the day he’d wanted it and not with the facts all sorted out.
He nodded. “You’re right about the fact that I was the one who took the story to the editor of the paper. But like I said, when I met you, when I kissed you…” He turned and looked at her. “I didn’t know you were Gareth Roux’s daughter—”
“This is my house.” Dana pointed toward a small cottage.
David looked around as he stopped in front of Dana’s house. They were in the older part of town, and this street was lined with old-charm cottages.
“And,” he continued, “you don’t have all the facts. For one, the story I took to the editor didn’t mention your dad. Well, except in the margin, but I was still…” He interrupted himself. “Can we continue this inside?” he asked.
She shook her head adamantly. “No! I’ve done enough talking for the day.” Her eyes welled up, and she got out of the car quickly.
*
Blinded by tears, Dana stumbled toward her front door, trying to find her key. Her only thought was to reach the sanctuary that was home.
“Dana!” David’s voice bellowed from behind her, but she ignored him.
He came up behind her but she stubbornly refused to look at him. Tears were clogging up her throat; she wouldn’t be able to talk anyway. A tear slipped down her cheek and, furiously, she wiped it away. But then another one followed and another.
Gentle fingers took her key and opened her front door.
David steered her inside and closed the door behind them. He pulled her close and rested his chin on her head. For minutes he stood like that, just holding her.
She tried to hang on to her anger, her hurt, but it was so wonderful not to be the strong one, not be the one doing the comforting but to be comforted.
When she was little, her dad was the one who’d pick her up and hug her when she cried. He was the caretaker, the caregiver. And ever since his death, the role had become hers. And she was just so tired of always trying to be the strong one.
But she had no choice; she had to get to the bottom of what had happened to her dad. And she definitely couldn’t let David seduce her into believing his version of the truth.
She pushed against his shoulders, and he let her go.
“Will you please listen to what I have to say?” David asked.
Dana hesitated. A headache was threatening to split her head in two. She was hurting so much. It was a struggle to keep the tears at bay.
She wanted to be angry with David, wanted to hate him, but if she was honest, deep down, she wanted there to be a different story. How did she deal with all these conflicting emotions?
Nodding, she walked toward the kitchen part of the open-plan living area. Fortunately, she’d cleaned her house yesterday. She grimaced. The main reason was that she knew David would be visiting over the weekend, and she’d been looking forward to seeing him again.
And now everything was such a mess. She should have listened to her instincts and stayed away from journalists.
She looked at her watch. Four o’clock.
Unfortunately, way too early for a glass of wine. Even though she’d rather crawl under her blankets, she would have to offer David something. He did drive her all the way to Hermanus.
“Would you like coffee or tea?” she asked David and rubbed her forehead.
He was coming closer and took a seat at the counter. “Coffee would be nice, thanks. Headache?”
She nodded and put the kettle on.
“Do you have something to take?”
She nodded and pointed toward a small cupboard. “I’ll get something later.” She took out the coffee mugs.
David got up, opened the cupboard door, and took out the bottle of pain pills. He got a glass from the counter, poured water in it, and handed the pills and the glass to her.
Her throat clogged up.
“Thanks,” she got out before swallowing down the pills.
“I love your house,” David murmured as he looked around.
“Thanks, it’s an old place, but I love the wooden floors, window panes,” she said putting the mugs on the counter and looking around.
It was also home, her space. Her mother had tried to get her to sell it after her dad’s death and move in with her, but this was the one thing she’d been trying desperately to hang on to. This was the one place she could find calm, where her life seemed ordinary, tranquil even.
“So tell me your version of the story.” She didn’t even try to hide her skepticism.
*
David threw a last glance at Dana’s neat house.
Everything was done in white, and it was obvious she’d tried to create an uncluttered space in which there was order, where things were sorted and filed, a place where she could forget about the turmoil that was her life at the moment.
He put his mug down and looked at Dana.
Dark circles under her eyes gave her a haunted look. She seemed lost somehow, and he had to clamp down his urge to take her into his arms.
He couldn’t remember ever feeling this way about a woman. Dana was hurting, and he wanted to take care of her, wanted to make all the bad stuff go away. But the determined lift of her chin in spite of her obvious distress was a clear indication she was used to solving her own problems.
“As I’ve said, I was the one who took the story to the editor; that is true. And, yes, I wanted to make sure the front page would be mine, but I told him I still had to verify some facts,” he began and continued to tell her what had happened.
She listened without interrupting him until he’d finished. At last, her stiff shoulders relaxed somewhat.
“Why did you write my dad’s name in the margin?”
He hesitated. “He was one of the people my source said I should talk to. In the original article I wrote, I mentioned the fact that several independent financial advisors marketed Hastings’s product as well.
What I didn’t do, and should have done before I took the story to the editor, was to talk to these guys, your dad included. ”
“So you didn’t even know whether my dad was involved in any way?” she asked, stunned.
David rubbed his face. How much should he tell her?
“David, tell me what you know,” Dana insisted.
“Okay. Fact. The financial advisors who were involved were selling Hastings’s product.
Fact. They earned large commissions from Hastings for every deal.
This is on record. What I don’t know is whether your dad was selling the product and to what degree the financial advisors were privy to what was going on, whether they knew that Hastings was running a Ponzi scheme and wasn’t investing their clients’ money but spending it.
I quit the job after the editor hijacked my story, joined my brothers, and made sure I ignored the story. ”
Dana chewed on her lower lip. “How culpable would my dad have been? That is to say, if he did in fact market this specific product at all.”
“Look, as I’ve said, I never spoke to him, but if he did sell it, he was supposed to make sure every deal he offered a client was aboveboard, that the financial institution he was representing was legitimate.
So, if he was involved, I’m afraid he would not have gotten off scot-free.
I don’t know what happened to the other advisors involved.
I didn’t follow the rest of the story, but I suspect that, at the very least, they would have had to pay back their clients’ money and/or were given a jail sentence. ”
Devastated, Dana looked at David, a tear rolling down her cheek.
He jumped up and picked her up. Damn it, that was it! She struggled, but he ignored it and walked to the couch where he sat down, his arms still around her.
She turned her face into his neck and quietly cried. She clutched his shirt, and her body shivered against his. A tenderness he didn’t understand made him gather her closer while his hands moved rhythmically over her back.
He wished he could miraculously take her hurt away, but he also knew that wasn’t possible.
Her phone rang. She lifted her head and took her phone from her bag then sighed and closed her eyes for a moment.
“I have to take this,” she said and got up. “Hi, Mom,” she said as she walked away and stood with her back turned toward him.
“I was in Cape Town … I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”
It was quiet for a few minutes.
“But I gave you money last week.” Dana lowered her voice but the frustration in her tone was unmistakable.
“My car broke down. I’m not sure—” Silence again.
“Okay, Mother, I’ll see what I can do.” She sighed resignedly as she hung up. She stood for a while before turning back to face him.