Chapter Seven #2
Nyah straightened her shoulders, steeling herself against her accuser. ‘I’m here to settle my mother’s affairs.’
‘Is that all? What about your sister, hmm? You left her behind. Abandoned her to whatever fate befell her.’ The venom in her mother’s friend’s tone was palpable, and it was clear she relished every word.
‘Skye’s disappearance wasn’t…’ Nyah began, but the lump in her throat made it difficult to continue. She couldn’t afford to unravel here, not in front of this horrid woman.
‘Wasn’t what? Your fault?’ Margery interrupted. ‘Some of us think otherwise.’
But Nyah refused to let herself be shaken or provoked by this woman’s cruel taunts. Her gaze remained steady despite the turmoil raging inside her. ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Then why does your conscience haunt you so?’ The unjust question felt like a knife twisting into old wounds, and Nyah couldn’t help but feel the weight of her mother’s disdain as if it was Claire standing there, saying such terrible things.
‘I’ve heard enough, please leave,’ Nyah said firmly, her voice filled with steely resolve. She turned her attention to the two boxes at her feet, dismissing Margery’s icy glare as she crouched to inspect the items.
‘You cannot ask me to leave when this isn’t your house.’ A footstep sounded, followed by another. ‘I’ll have you know, girly, that…’
Margery was standing over her now, her presence unnerving. But Nyah refused to move and stayed where she was, with her back turned. ‘I said, get out.’ She kept her voice even, although her tone was arctic. ‘Now, before I call the police.’
Silence fell and tension hung thick in the room.
‘You don’t belong here, Nyah.’ A huff sounded.
More footsteps could be heard outside. Nyah stood, and without gracing Margery with even a look, her gaze went to where a shadow fell across the doorway, blocking the late-afternoon sunshine.
‘All right, Margery, I think that’s about enough.
’ Caleb’s voice sliced through the stifling atmosphere.
‘Nyah’s dealing with too much as it is. Show some respect.
’ He moved with calm precision, his authoritative tone cutting through the tension as he placed himself between Nyah and her unwelcome, sour-faced guest.
‘I’m speaking my mind.’ She lifted her chin, eyes narrowing. ‘It isn’t against the law, to voice it.’
‘You have no business coming in here and making Nyah feel uncomfortable, threatened, even.’ His unyielding gaze lingered on her crumpled face before settling gently back on Nyah. ‘Are you okay?’ The lines around his mouth softened, conveying an unspoken message of solidarity between them.
‘Yes, thank you, Caleb.’ Nyah’s gratitude was barely audible, but it carried the weight of her burdened mind and heart.
‘No need for thanks,’ Caleb replied with a nod.
‘Well then, I’ll leave you two to whatever it is you’re doing.’ And with that, Margery turned on her heel and stormed out the front door.
Nyah waited until she heard nothing more from outside, before turning back to Caleb. ‘I gather she doesn’t like me very much.’
‘She doesn’t like many. And if she steps within ten feet of you again, I’ll have her charged with hindrance.’ Leaning against the worn kitchen counter, Caleb’s tall frame cast long shadows in the fading sunlight filtering through the timeworn curtains. ‘How are you holding up?’
‘I’m not sure, to be honest.’ Thankful for Caleb’s presence, Nyah fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.
‘It’s a lot to take in. This house…it’s full of ghosts.
’ She felt compelled to reveal what she’d only told Hope.
‘And my mother left me a letter, telling me she had been having an affair the entire time she was married to Dad, so Skye might not be his…’ Her voice trailed off, the weight of her words hanging heavily in the air between them.
‘An affair with who?’ His brows furrowed.
‘She didn’t say.’ Three words, that was all she could get past the emotion clogging her throat.
‘What a terrible thing to leave you with.’ Caleb straightened, his demeanour changing to one of focused attention. ‘Does your dad know?’
‘Apparently not. But I’m going to tell him when I get back home to Cairns.’ She met his eyes. ‘Do you have any idea who it could have been?’ She paused, gauging his reaction.
‘I wouldn’t have a clue.’ Caleb shook his head slowly, as if processing the information. ‘But this makes things a hell of a lot more complicated.’
‘How so?’
He rubbed the light stubble dusting the sharp curves of his jaw. ‘This person could have something to do with Skye’s disappearance.’
‘Yes, I suppose that’s true, I hadn’t even thought of it. But I bet it’ll be like navigating through a treacherous swamp, trying to uncover who this bloke is.’ Nyah’s voice faltered with a mixture of fear and frustration.
‘Swamps can be navigated, Ny,’ Caleb said softly, closing the distance between them. His hand reached out tentatively at first, but then with confidence, resting gently on her shoulder. ‘You’re not alone in this. I’m here with you every step of the way.’
Her eyes closed at his touch, a single tear escaping despite her efforts to hold it back.
Caleb’s presence was an anchor in this chaos, his support a lifeline she hadn’t realised she needed so much.
And when she opened her eyes again, they met with his and she saw more than just the police officer or even a protector—she saw a man who understood her loss and had the same yearning for redemption as she did.
And she also saw, beyond all of this, that Caleb Hart was the one and only man she’d ever truly loved.
‘I got you,’ he said gently. ‘Please know that.’
‘Thank you, Caleb,’ she whispered again, allowing herself to lean into his strength.
His arms came around her a little cautiously at first, but when he felt her melt into him he held her, so tightly, yet so gently.
She hadn’t felt so safe, and so loved, other than in her father’s arms, since Caleb had held her close all those years ago.
And in the quiet kitchen, their two souls connected on a deeper level with their shared sorrow, and an unspoken solace in knowing that together they may be able to untangle the mysteries of the past.
The arrival of the charity workers, and their removal truck, burst their bubble.
With all the hustle and bustle, before Nyah knew it the setting sun had cast a warm, golden glow over the rundown cottage, its rays gently filtering through the dusty windows of the now empty lounge room, illuminating the remnants of a house that had once been lived in.
Caleb had left to head back to the station, with her two boxes tucked into the back of his Troopy, and she now stood in the hallway, her silhouette outlined against the fading light, and her weary eyes darting to the fluttering yellow lace curtains.
That was when the same chill from hours earlier skated up her spine.
She had to get out of there, right away.
Each creak of the aged floorboards under her hurrying feet reverberated like thunder in the eerie silence that enveloped her.
Every shadow seemed to hold a hidden darkness, and while she concentrated on remaining rational, she couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling of being watched.
The sensation clung to her like an unseen shroud, prickling her skin and making her heart race erratically.
She paused at the front door, her gaze scanning behind her for a sighting of some ghostly mist. There was nothing, and she felt instantly stupid for searching it out.
But as she ducked outside and went to close the front door behind her, hopefully for the very last time, a chill covered her neck, as if someone had just traced a finger along the birthmark at her nape.
She knew she’d felt it.
She wasn’t imagining this.
Hurrying down the front pathway with her shoes in her hand, she sprinted through the sagging gate, and her heart raced in union with her footsteps.
She didn’t stop until she’d reached the safety of public ground, and the bitumen touched the soles of her feet.
Then, and only then, did she turn and face her old home as if it were an entity unto itself.
With each slowing breath she willed herself to remain composed, but the spooky feeling continued to chip away at her defences and she decided walking it off was her best option.
After tugging her shoes on, she headed in the general direction of her bungalow, where she hoped to find both peace and safety behind the closed door.
***
Nyah awoke after a fitful sleep—feeling just as tortured as when she’d finally drifted off into nightmares of her mother and sister clawing their way back to the surface of their deep graves—to a firm knocking at the bungalow’s front door.
Rolling from her tousled bed, she raced towards the sound, still half asleep, with her pyjamas askew.
When she flung the door open, Caleb’s presence emerged in the blinding morning sunshine as a beacon of certainty.
His tall, muscular frame loomed at the threshold of the doorway, his sharp brown eyes searching her face as if desperate for insight.
‘Is everything all right?’ His voice was a low hum, grounding and steady. ‘You look…’ he shrugged, ‘rough.’
‘I’m fine,’ Nyah lied, her words barely a whisper as she rubbed her eyes into some form of life.
But Caleb could clearly read the language of her body—the tension in her shoulders, the way her fingers brushed against the tattoos etched into her skin—because he stepped in without a welcome and placed his hands on her shoulders, instantly settling them.