Hero Duty Read Free

old fibro shack, though scrupulously maintained. A new red roof topped the faded green walls. The cosy, square shape looked like a child’s drawing of ‘home’.
    Around the corner she could just see a washing line and beyond that, a fence with a gate at the end of a worn path. If she strained her ears she could imagine she heard the waves on the beach below, although the sound was more likely the heavy beating of her blood. Anxiety had her every muscle tense and her palms sweating.
    ‘You can’t hear the sea.’
    ‘Pardon?’
    Rats. She’d said it out loud. If there’d been any way she could have gotten Brodie Carlton’s agreement without visiting Jardin Bay, she’d have taken it. She’d have doubled her fee, except she’d known that she’d have to see him in person.
    It was the first time in years that she’d been back to West Australia. These days she lived inland in Australia’s capital city, Canberra. Politicians were a small price to pay for the security of land all around her. Placid Lake Burley-Griffin didn’t count. It was the wild Indian Ocean that terrified her.
    Up until she was fourteen, she’d lived in Western Australia and holidayed down south here, along the coast.
    Brodie didn’t push her to repeat her muttered comment. ‘We can sit on the porch swing — if you don’t mind dog fur? They tend to nap there.’
    ‘That’s fine.’
    The two steps up to the veranda meant she was high enough to see the sea. Deliberately, she chose the far corner of the swing seat and angled her shoulder to the view.
    Buddy leapt up and put his heavy head on her lap.
    The swing was a three-seater. Brodie sat and Holly leapt up on his other side. Two humans plus two dogs made things a tight fit.
    Jessica happily ignored feeling squashed for the comfort of Buddy. Patting him gave her something to do with her fidgety hands.
    The swing stilled as they all settled.
    She waited for Brodie to question her. She didn’t need to look at him. Her skin prickled with awareness of his presence. Instead, she looked out across the neatly mown yard to the garage. A few car bodies sat in between, rusting in the sea air.
    The silence stretched.
    Her father had used silence as a weapon against her. If she’d tried to share her feelings, a dream, even clumsily ask a question, he’d let the silence swallow her whole. Only in the aftermath of his death had she begun to understand how deeply he’d resented her.
    But this silence had a different quality. On the old veranda, on a porch swing that smelled of dog, there seemed all the time in the world. Some of her tension eased away and she found a place to start her story. ‘My father died six weeks ago.’
    ‘I’m sorry.’
    ‘Thank you.’ She’d grown not comfortable, but practiced in accepting people’s condolences. ‘It was unexpected. He’d been very fit. He sailed, and he enjoyed skiing when he was in America or Europe. He had a heart attack and died in his office.’
    Her stepmother hadn’t even phoned to tell her. It had been her father’s secretary who’d broken the news. A good woman who’d understood the family dynamics better than Jessica had guessed, Vera Jenkins had telephoned Jessica with the news and arranged a flight from Canberra to Sydney.
    The long taxi drive from the airport to her father’s harbour mansion had been endless, and there’d been no welcome for her at the end of it. On the contrary.
    Buddy’s cold nose nudged her.
    She’d stopped patting him to hug herself. She glanced at Brodie to see if he’d noticed.
    He had. The firm line of his mouth was gentle and the astonishing width of his shoulders, exaggerated by the overalls he wore, was angled away from the back of the porch swing and protectively towards her. ‘It’s all right to cry, Jessica.’
    ‘Not in public.’ Portia’s training and the boarding school she’d sent her to made the words automatic.
    ‘I won’t tell anyone.’
    She looked away hurriedly. Kindness could