Burnt (29 page)

Angus Taylor had never been a man big on conversation in life – he wouldn't appreciate a drawn-out service in death. There were no eulogies or hymns, just a brief spiel by the minister and a few prayers, but Seb wouldn't have been able to repeat any of it if his life had depended on it. He felt as though he were trapped in some kind of void.

‘Do you want to stay for a few minutes?' Bec asked softly.

It took a moment to realise that the service was over and only the minister, Bec and himself were left inside the church.

‘No. Let's go.'

‘Seb, it's okay if you want a few minutes alone to say your goodbyes. I can wait for you if you like.'

‘There's no need, Bec. He's gone.'

There would be no graveside service or burial. His father had stated in his will that he wanted to be cremated and his ashes scattered back on the farm, up on the ridge where he'd scattered his wife's ashes a few years before. Seb would come back to do that later.

He forced himself to his feet, feeling older than his years, avoiding Bec's concerned gaze. He could feel the sympathy and concern pouring over him from her and knew that if he made the mistake of allowing her in under the defences he'd been erecting, he'd never be able to leave. He just didn't think he had the strength to fight her any more. He had to leave now – while he still could.

‘Seb. Please.'

He paused as edged his way along the pew to exit the church, waiting for her speak but reluctant to hear what she had to say.

When she didn't say anything, he shook his head, refusing to give in to the primal urge to turn and feast his eyes upon her and let her soothe away the pain in his aching, tired heart.

‘Don't, Bec. Not now.'

He hurried out of the church, keeping his eyes down and slipping through the side doors away from the lingering mourners still gathered out front, away from the place where his parents had been married, where he'd been christened, and which had now seen both his parents' funerals.

He didn't look back as he pulled his newly repaired four-wheel drive from the car park and headed back to the farm. He was using every last ounce of strength to keep his momentum. If he stopped, rested for just the slightest of moments, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep moving, and moving was all he could do right now. Moving was all that was keeping him from falling apart.

He had one last job to do and then he would say goodbye to this place for good. Goodbye to his past.

Rebecca stared at her mobile, willing it to ring or beep – anything but remain in its current, silent state.

She'd called Seb once, the evening after the funeral, to make sure he was okay, but after the briefest of conversations, she'd hung up feeling stupid, and vowed not to call him again. If he wanted her, he knew where to find her; she'd just have to leave it up to him to call her when he was ready.

The girls' excited voices floated through the house, drawing her attention away from the stubbornly silent phone to the front door. Pushing away from the bench, she went to see what they were up too. A small yelp made her pick up the pace. Slowing her steps, she stared at her daughters' heads bent over a small, bandaged dog standing in the open doorway. The girls giggled and crooned, and tried to avoid doggy slobber and a wet nose.

Looking up, she saw Seb leaning against the doorframe, watching her, and her breath caught at the overwhelming sadness on his painfully familiar face.

‘Mum, Seb wants to know if we can take care of Buggalugs for him,' Sarah cried in barely contained excitement, as the lively young kelpie wiggled in delight before her.

Her mouth dropped open in surprise, and Seb straightened, pushing away from the doorframe. ‘I know it's a pretty low act to use the kids to soften up the request, but I'm desperate.'

‘Desperate' and Sebastian Taylor just didn't seem to belong in the same sentence, and she didn't believe for an instant that he hadn't thought this through completely before he'd arrived. The man was unashamedly playing on her sympathies.

‘Can we keep him, Mum,
please
?' Natalie begged, as the pup squirmed enthusiastically between the girls.

‘Well, I don't –'

‘
Please
, Mum?'

‘Why don't you go and get a container to put some water in to give Buggalugs a drink?'

As the kids and dog vanished inside the house, Rebecca turned to face Seb with a raised eyebrow. ‘What do you think you're doing?'

‘I need someone to look after the dog, Bec. I can't take him with me, and Dad would have wanted the kids to have him.'

Oh nice – play the guilt card on me why don't you,
she thought bitterly. ‘Can't take him with you – where?'

Seb dropped his gaze, twirling the stem of his sunglasses between his fingers idly. ‘I'm on my way back to base. I just had to drop off the dog and say goodbye.'

A thick stillness settled between them.

‘And what if I say the dog can't stay?' she asked, wondering how she could manage to force the words out between her frozen lips.

He looked at her, his eyes steady and bottomless. ‘Can he stay, Bec?' The plea in his voice broke her heart.

‘Why don't you both stay?'

His face clouded, then darkened, moments before he dropped his gaze once more. His hands clenched into fists by his side. ‘You know I can't.'

‘I know you
won't
… I don't know you
can't
.'

‘I don't belong here. I'm not supposed to have a normal life – the army's all I know how to do.' He swore under his breath, then gave a rough sigh. ‘There's not a great deal of job opportunities out here in the real world for guys who only know how to kill people.'

‘That's not all you know how to do, and you know it.'

‘Maybe I'm not ready to give it up yet, Bec. Why can't you understand that?'

‘I could understand it, Seb, if I believed that's the real reason you wanted to go back. But it's not. You're still running away.' He gave a groan of irritation, but she refused to let him interrupt. ‘You still think because of everything that's happened – Marty and Reggie, all this –' she waved her hand in a wide arc, ‘– is still your fault and you don't
deserve
any other life.'

‘Well, maybe I don't!' he shouted, then quickly reined in his anger. ‘All I ever do is leave a trail of carnage behind me every time I come back here.'

‘None of this is your fault.'

‘Dad's dead, Green kidnapped you, and all because he wanted to get even with me. How is it
not
my fault?'

She watched the muscle in his jaw working, as he seemed to fight some inner demon.

‘You're just using it as an excuse.'

‘I don't need an excuse to leave, Bec. I was only ever back here to recuperate.'

His clipped tone grated on her nerves.

‘How convenient. Just in case you forgot yourself for a minute and actually started feeling like a normal human again, you always had the regiment to go running back to as a safety net.'

‘I came here to say goodbye. Remember? That's what you said you wanted.
Closure
.'

‘Well, thanks. I guess I got it.' Rebecca was so angry she couldn't think straight. She wanted to slam the door in his arrogant face and forget him, but she knew if she hadn't forgotten him in the last eighteen years, she wasn't likely to do so any time soon.

‘I have to get going. I have a long trip ahead of me.'

‘Yeah, you better leave – shouldn't be hard, it's what you do best, after all,' she said sadly, stepping away from the door and closing it softly. She braced her hands on the doorframe and squeezed her eyes shut tightly. How on earth was she going to survive it this time? A rough sob caught her unaware and she clutched at her chest, the pain a physical stabbing that took her breath away.

He slammed his fist against the closed door, rattling it on its hinges, and through the leadlight panels she saw his dark shadow disappear. A few minutes later, his engine roared to life and he drove away.

Out of her life.

Again.

Dear Bec,

Seb stared at the two words he'd written on the paper and frowned. He'd been trying to write this letter for the last three days now.

They'd been writing back and forth for three months, and with each letter he opened, he found a little more of the old Seb being pushed aside. Now he waited on mail call like a love-struck teenager. His mates had all noticed the change in him and made sure he paid dearly, with endless ribbing and some colourful, none-too-helpful advice.

The girls sent drawings and photos of Buggalugs to show Seb how much he'd grown. The dog had put on at least a couple of kilos since he'd left. He could just picture all the attention the animal was receiving – who'd have thought you could envy a damn animal so much!

He'd spent the first few weeks after leaving trying to pass his medical and physical exams; he was so exhausted by the end of each day, he'd had little time to think of how much he hurt inside and how much he missed Bec and the farm. Once he'd been cleared to rejoin his unit, he'd had little time to dwell on anything else but getting his mind back into work. He flew out to Afghanistan, and soon there was nothing to think about but the next mission and staying alert enough to avoid getting killed.

Then he'd gotten word that his unit was going home within a few weeks and he realised it was time to face a few truths. He was in love with Rebecca Whiteman and her kids. His life no longer made any sense without them in it and he'd been an idiot to just walk away from them the way he had.

The first letter he'd written to her had been a brief note to let her know he was back in Afghanistan. He'd asked a few questions about the girls, the dog, even the women's shelter, and sent it off, half fearing she'd either ignore it or worse – send it back unopened with a note attached telling him to leave them the hell alone. He deserved it after everything he'd put the woman through in the past – and then leaving her a second time – but he'd held onto the slightest glimmer of hope that she'd take his olive branch and maybe they could rebuild some kind of fragile bond again.

The first reply was only handwritten letters from each of the girls and a drawing of Buggalugs, and he reluctantly accepted that Bec was telling him it was over between them at last.

He kept replying to the letters, including one for her each time, and finally she wrote back to him. They were friendly, polite letters, and she was careful not to give him anything more, ending them with a simple
Rebecca
. But somehow they gave him hope, and he was pathetically desperate enough to take whatever she gave and be happy with it.

However, now that he had word that he was headed home, he wanted to make sure she knew he'd changed. He wanted to tell her that he knew what he wanted.

He wanted her.

‘Moving out in five, Taylor.' The sarge's voice, like gravel crunching under tyres, snapped him from his thoughts and he put the letter away and shrugged on his pack.

He'd finish the letter when he got back to camp. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to get it all out on paper and into the next mail run – tonight.

Coming home from work, Rebecca felt her heart pick up speed as she approached the letterbox. Opening the lid, she reached in and pulled out the three envelopes inside, all with little windows – bills. No letter from Seb today.

She buried her disappointment; there was no point getting upset about it. His letters came intermittently, although from the dates, she knew he wrote to them as regularly as he could. The kids loved getting the letters; they spent days on the drawings and letters they sent in return, which made her smile, but she couldn't help wondering what would happen if he suddenly decided to stop writing. It would hurt others besides herself this time.

That first letter had surprised her. She'd stared at it almost fearfully when she saw the address and name in the corner. Her immediate reaction was to rip it up and throw it away, but deep down she knew that she could never do that. So she'd saved it until she'd had some time alone and could sit at the table to read it.

She knew he was making an attempt to reach out to her, to fix the mistakes he'd made, but she was still hurting inside. She'd spent so many miserable nights alone after he'd left, and she couldn't just shrug off the pain and forgive him. Twice he'd hurt her, and twice she'd had to get over the pain alone.

She was touched that he'd written to the girls and that he wasn't washing his hands of them just because he'd left town, but she wasn't sure exactly what he expected from her. Did he expect them to be pen pals now? Mates? That might not be something she could do with the history they had together, but for now, for the sake of the girls, she'd keep the lines of communication open. This time, she'd guard her heart a lot better than before. This time, she was not going to make the mistake of thinking she could save him from his past.

Picking the kids up from her parents' house, she listened to the chatter about their sleepover and what they'd done with Nanna and Pop while she'd been on night shift, the radio playing mindlessly in the background. As she pulled up at a red light, the newsreader's monotonous voice snagged her attention and she reached out to turn up the volume a little.

‘Just repeating news to hand: four soldiers from Australia's elite SAS have been killed in yet another attack from Taliban forces in the deadly Uruzgan Province in Afghanistan. A press conference with the Australian Chief of the Defence Force has been called and we'll be crossing to that within the hour.'

Driving on autopilot, Rebecca pulled up in front of the house, her mind on the news broadcast.