Matter of Trust (67 page)

Whack!

‘Attaboy, Gabe,' yelled Arthur as Gabe Mannix, the third of Mannix's four sons, hit the small red ball way down the end of the yard.

‘No – you don't need to drop the bat, Gabe,' reminded Arthur from the sideline, just as Gabe threw the old plank of wood behind him.

The Mannix boys were seasoned baseball players and they were finding it hard to master this new game of cricket that Arthur had introduced about an hour ago.

‘Quick, lad,' called Nora as Gabe ran toward the wicket at the other end of the pitch, his little brother Michael matching his runs in the opposite direction.

‘
Shit,
I can't see it,' said David now foraging under a honeysuckle bush at the back end of the garden.

‘Jesus, David, what the hell are you doing under there?' asked a frustrated Mannix. ‘These kids are whipping our asses,' he added, as his two youngest sons made run after run, while the two older ones laughed at the grown-ups' failed efforts to retrieve the ball.

‘
Move
,' yelled a ponytailed Lisa Cavanaugh, shoving her big brother out of the way and getting down on all fours. ‘I'm smaller than you. I'll crawl under and get it,' which she did – before throwing it hard and fast at the three stumps Joe had made out of old broomstick handles. The two wooden crosspieces known as bails were sent flying, and Michael Mannix was successfully ‘run out'.

‘
Whoohoo
!' cried Lisa, throwing her arms up in delight. ‘This game rocks, Arthur. Where'd you learn to play it?'

‘In Australia,' smiled Arthur. ‘The same place I learnt how to drink beer.' He held up his icy-cold longneck bottle of Victoria Bitter.

‘Does that mean it's our turn to bat?' called an enthusiastic Sara as she handed a giggling Lauren to Nora and picked up the fence paling they were using as a bat.

‘Not just yet,' said Marie Mannix, coming down the steps from the back of the house with two bowls of salad in her hands. ‘Those sausages are burning, Joe,' she said, placing the salads on the already made-up backyard table.

Sara dropped the bat. ‘Here Marie, let me help you,' she said, moving back toward the kitchen to retrieve the bread rolls and ketchup. And before long they were all enjoying a late Sunday afternoon lunch, the petite Lisa surprising everyone by polishing off two steaks, four sausages and three large servings of salad.

‘What?' she smiled as she reached for a second bread roll. ‘I have a healthy appetite.'

‘It's true,' said David. ‘When we were kids, Mom put a lock on the pantry door just beyond Lisa's reach.'

Lisa laughed. ‘Dad had to keep unscrewing it and shifting it up as I grew.'

‘But you're so tiny, lass,' said Nora.

‘I guess I burn a lot of fuel, Nora,' smiled Lisa.

‘Most of it exhausted on that motor mouth of hers,' joked David.

They all laughed.

After lunch David accompanied Joe to his garage, where a second fridge housed the beer and the sodas.

‘It's good to have you back,' said Joe, handing David a cold Heineken.

‘It's good to be back, but I'm glad I went, Joe.'

Joe nodded. ‘Try to take it easy for a while now, David. You know, enjoy some time with Sara, and being a dad.'

‘Funny, that's exactly what McNally said to me before I left.'

‘Well, that's irony for you – us homicide cops specialise in death but spend most of our time dishing out advice on how to live.' Joe smiled.

‘It's a perk of the job, Joe,' said David. ‘Seeing one just makes you appreciate the other.' And they lifted their beers in salute.

‘All right, you two, I have to get going.' It was Lisa at the garage door – her bright green eyes smiling, her ponytail askew. ‘I have a late shift at the hospital,' she said, before gesturing at her two filthy knees. ‘And I need to get home and clean up.'

‘I'll walk you out,' said David.

His sister moved forward to give Joe a hug. ‘Thanks for including me, Joe – it was the best.'

‘Any family of David's is family of ours,' said Joe. ‘And if you ever get sick of the nursing stuff, you could always consider a career in cricket.'

Lisa smiled. ‘I'll give it some thought,' she said, before turning to walk to her car.

‘You look good, DC,' she said, as they reached her ten-year-old Geo. ‘I thought you might be – you know?' It was Lisa's way of asking if he was really okay. She knew better than anyone what Newark could do to him.

‘I'm good, Lis,' he said, meaning it. ‘Home was good.'

She nodded before opening the car door. ‘
Shit
!' she said, ‘I almost forgot.' She reached across to the passenger seat. ‘This letter came for you during the week.'

David took the letter. ‘I haven't lived at your place for over fifteen years, Lis,' he said, recalling the time Lisa had taken him in after his first wife left him.

‘I know. Spooky hah?' She smiled. ‘Anyway,' she rose up on her toes to
kiss her brother on the cheek. ‘I gotta run. Call me, okay?' she said, her high cheekbones flushed with life.

She jumped into her car and started the engine, pushing the Geo into hyperdrive before disappearing in a puff of exhaust around the corner.

 

Moments later David took a seat on Joe's front steps, the worn weather-boards creaking beneath him. He looked at the envelope once again, and while he did not recognise the writing, there was something about it that was strangely familiar.

He placed his finger under the flap and tore at the seal, to see a piece of lined writing paper sitting neatly inside. Then, as he unfolded it, he knew immediately why the letter had been sent to Lisa's house – because that was the last address the writer had had for him.

‘There you are,' said Sara from behind him. ‘You're up to bat and I was told to send out a search party.'

He turned, the letter now falling open on his lap.

‘David,' she said, taking a seat next to him. ‘What is it?'

He held up the letter, so that she could read the first two words. She understood immediately. ‘
Dear Rob
.'

And for whatever reason David felt his heart sink, as his eyes watered and the events of the past months came crashing down around him. ‘They weren't meant to go like this – my friends' lives, I mean.'

Sara placed her arm around his shoulders. ‘Maybe not, but sometimes, out of tragedy comes hope and out of hope comes happiness.'

David nodded, praying beyond anything that she was right.

‘I'm going to stand in for you on the bat thing,' she said, removing her arm before getting to her feet. ‘You take your time, okay. I'm not going anywhere.'

And he took comfort in her words, as she moved back through the front door, and he picked up the letter to read . . .

 

Dear Rob,

Do you remember when we first met, and I asked Chris to dance and I made you dance with Becca and we left Mike sitting all alone?

I have been thinking about that night a lot over the past week, wondering if my question – ‘So are you gonna ask me to dance, or what?' – altered the
universe in some way. If I upset the balance of what was meant to be, and set us all on a path unintended.

I'd like to say I almost asked you to dance, Rob – but I didn't. I was drawn to Chris from the outset. And there was something about you, something special that told me I wasn't meant to take your hand – that you deserved somebody better, and at least, on that count, I was right.

I'm sorry I couldn't talk to you in Newark – properly, I mean. I was afraid that if I spoke these things out loud that I wouldn't have the strength to walk away. I wanted to ask you so much – about your wife and your baby girl, about your work and your life and your sister and your mom – and what it feels like to make another life anywhere but here. And most of all I wanted to say I am sorry, for all the trouble I have caused.

Now, today is a day for truths, so before I go, there are four things I really need to say.

First up, I don't want you to worry about me. You were always worrying about people, Rob – but I'm a survivor and no matter what, I will be okay.

Secondly, I want you to promise me that you'll look out for Mike. He's still sitting alone you know – after all these years, and while that's my fault too, I think maybe you are the only person who can make him feel good about himself – and he deserves to feel good about himself, Rob, maybe more than anyone I know.

Thirdly, when it comes to Chris, Becca and their family, I ask that you never speak of me to them again. It's them that I've hurt the most, and they deserve a new life free of the girl who never knew when to quit.

Finally, if I never told you before, I need you to know that I love you, Rob. I'm a better person for having known you – even if we never speak again.

Think of me every now and again, will you? Not like I am today, but like I was back then. And I promise I'll think of you too, and I'll be proud that, no matter what, you will always be my friend.

M x