The Lies We Tell (2 page)

“That’s enough for today,” he said. “Mum, time for a nap.”

“Not a baby,” Maria muttered.

“No, but you are weak and you have to take care of yourself,” Sia said. “Little bits today mean you can do bigger bits later.”

Paul helped Maria up and out of the room. Sia left the canvas and easel by the window, to be worked on the next time, then took the brushes to the kitchen to wash them out.

She felt Todd’s presence behind her before he spoke.

“You won’t make up for what you did.”

The darkness of his voice branded her. Sia considered turning to look at him, then decided she didn’t want to see his hatred — hearing it was hard enough.

“I know,” she said softly.

She finished washing the brushes and when she turned, he was gone. She went back to the sunroom, packed her paints and brushes in the bag and let herself out of the house.

Despite the sunlight, the day now felt cold. People had turned from her over the years when they heard of her criminal record, some had judged her, some had even considered her an easy mark for blackmail and tried to own her. But none of that had hurt her anywhere near how Todd’s rage did.

And the hardest thing? He blamed her for something she didn’t do, but for her father’s sake she could never tell him.

At the bottom of the hill, over the fence, she turned and looked back up at the homestead. A man stood at the verandah, staring down at her. Although his upper torso was in shadow, the height and breadth of him made it clear it was Todd.

Sia turned away, marched across the backyard; past children’s play equipment and sandpits, to her studio.

One thing was clear — Todd Lansing’s return to Oberon wasn’t going to be good for her at all.

Todd watched Sia Collins walk into the base of the house down the hill. Dammit, she lived so fucking close. How was he supposed to avoid her when she was a damn next-door neighbour?

For years, his rage had been buried, suppressed by his desire to become the best damn cop he could be. To ensure that people who hurt good families, the way she had, would be punished for their crimes.

But seeing her had brought it all back — the pain, the bottomless pit of despair as he’d walked into his father’s study, only eighteen years old, and found the old man slumped on his desk.

Then to find out the girl that he’d called a friend, the girl that he’d been slowly finding attractive in more ways than that, was the one responsible for the shock that had killed Todd Lansing SrSr..

Now here she was, insinuating herself back into his life again — Sia Collins.

Even more fucking beautiful now than he remembered.

God, he couldn’t believe that he’d stood at the door, and flirted with the murderer of his father. Thinking she might be a suitable partner for a dalliance while he was in Oberon.

He felt ill.

Paul came and stood beside him. Todd refused to look. Instead, he lifted his gaze from Sia’s home to the view of the town beyond. It was perfect — trees turning green, going to bud, tiny little homes and larger modern buildings and the main street running down the middle.

“She was young and she made a stupid, tragic mistake,” Paul said. “She’s paid for it.”

“No, she hasn’t,” Todd said.

“Todd.” Paul touched his arm. Todd shook it away. “Bro, it was ten years ago. You’ve got to get over it.”

“Not until Sia Collins suffers the way I have.”

It was a vow.

For the next two days, Todd took his frustration and anger out on his mother’s garden. When he and Paul took her out onto the balcony to show her the garden restored she had smiled — almost her entire mouth had moved — and it had made him feel bad for his motivations.

He’d been stuck in the middle of an important case when the stroke happened and apart from a quick visit when she was initially in hospital, he had been forced to stay away until work was done.

When he’d arrived, he’d been shocked by how bad his mother was, and how exhausted Paul had already become caring for her. The guilt had stabbed deep but he was used to that.

He lived every day with the guilt of knowing his father had died thinking his oldest son hated him.

This morning, without the garden to occupy him, he wandered aimlessly around the house. He wasn’t sure how many times he paused at the study door before he stopped and looked at it.

With fingertips that shook in a disturbing manner, he reached for the doorknob, opened the door and stepped inside. Over the years it had become something of a storage room — a place to put things that you weren’t sure had a home but needed to go somewhere. Boxes were piled in one corner. There was an exercise bike over by the shelves. A dusty old television sat on the desk.

Ten years ago, no one dared enter this room without express permission. You certainly wouldn’t leave anything here. It was so unlike the space his father had commanded and yet, Todd could still feel the old man here.

He liked to have all his conferences with his boys here. Todd Sr. would sit at his desk. Todd Jr. and Paul would stand before him. Todd Sr. would give them a list of all the things they’d done well and all the ways they were failing. He would reward what was due reward and focus on what would be punished if not improved.

His father believed in treating his sons like they were employees, preparing them for the workplace. Luckily they’d had a noindent, loving parent in their mother or they might both have gone mad, Todd thought.

Despite that, or perhaps because of it, Todd recognised that he’d been desperate for his father’s approval. But he had too much self-esteem to buckle when his father declared the future that Todd didn’t want. And so the fighting had begun.

His father had been determined his sons would follow him into the family business — mining gold. Paul was happy to follow the path of geologist — he’d had a lifelong interest in science and nature.

But Todd had rebelled against the business courses and apprenticeship his father planned so that he could take over the company. Being stuck in an office all day, dealing with paperwork and people’s demands hadn’t appealed to him at all. He wasn’t sure exactly what job he did want, but he knew it had to involve people. He was at his happiest when talking to them, listening to their problems, helping them work through the best solution and supporting them.

For months, every conversation between him and his father had descended into bitter, biting comments about lack of appreciation, lack of understanding, ungrateful sons and dictator dads.

When the robbery occurred, Todd Lansing Sr.’s agitation had been extreme. He’d lost the little patience he possessed and no one in the family could do well enough. The fact that someone had entered his inner sanctum and stolen from him seemed to have undermined his entire view of the world.

Within a couple of days, the rumours that Sia Collins was responsible had circulated. Then the police had returned Dad’s stolen items and confirmed that Sia confessed. Todd’s rage, on behalf of his father, had been instant.

His father had gone very quiet. He’d taken to spending all his time locked in his office, refusing even to come out for meals.

A week later he was back again and his insistence on Todd going to business school was stronger than ever. As much as he felt for his father and the stress he was under, Todd wasn’t prepared to settle for a life that he knew was entirely wrong for him. The fighting became worse.

Another week passed, and Todd had decided on a compromise. Let his father think he would do as asked, at least until this whole situation with the robbery was behind them. He’d got home from school; confident he could make his father happy for a while at least.

Only to find his father slumped on his desk, already cold.

Todd touched the desk. That had been a hollow time for the family. They’d each locked themselves away in their hearts to deal with the grief.

Sia’s conviction for the robbery had galvanised them all. When she was given a good behaviour bond and sent back to school, Todd had decided it was a terrible miscarriage of justice. He’d turned on the girl he’d once considered a friend and she was driven out of school.

Then Todd had decided to become a police officer, in order to ensure that people like Sia would be caught and pay for their crimes.

Only now here she was, walking into his family as if nothing had happened, simply expecting to be forgiven for what she had done to them.

Never.

The doorbell rang. Something within Todd told him who it was and when he stepped into the lounge room and saw the shadow of the slight person standing on the other side of the glass, he wasn’t surprised.

Perhaps his thinking of her had summoned her. He’d make sure he didn’t do it again.

He turned and walked back out of the room. Damned if he was going to open the door, and allow her into his family’s home. The doctor had agreed with Paul — that Sia’s lessons were good for Maria — but anyone could give her painting lessons.

He’d made a few enquiries about other art teachers and so far had come up with none. He’d have to get serious — pay someone to come from Sydney if need be — to save his family from Sia Collins’ particular brand of poison.

It made sense to do so in his father’s office. At the desk where he’d died, from the pain Sia had caused him.

Todd had made three unsatisfactory phone calls when he became aware of a disturbance in the house.

“No.” His mother’s voice came to him clearly. “Shan’t.”

He was out of his seat before he had a moment to question his reaction. When he did, his intellect agreed with his reflexes — he needed to act.

At the door to the sunroom, he frowned at the scene before him. Maria had folded her good arm across her chest and she would have been pouting if her face could form the expression. At her feet crouched Sia, mopping up a spill of wet paint. Paul sat in the corner, reading a magazine and ignoring it all.

“You can’t make me,” Maria said in the blurred voice that still brought a tear. It was so wrong, to see her so damaged when she’d always been the tower of strength in their lives.

“Of course not,” Sia said, wiping the last of the paint away and standing. “You’re an adult, I can’t force you to do anything. But you’re also not a quitter and I can call you on that.”

Todd clenched his fists. His mother was sick —couldn’t the bitch see that?

“Not a quitter,” Maria mumbled.

“Then let’s paint this house, okay?”

“Stupid,” Maria said.

“Scared,” Sia shot back.

Todd flicked Paul a glance and was astonished to see his brother casually turning a page, as if he didn’t realise what was happening in front of him.

Well, if Paul wasn’t going to act, he would.

“That will do.” He spat the words out as he strode across the room. He yanked the paintbrush that Sia held out to his mother from her grasp.

“It’s not time to finish.” If he’d been astonished before, he was absolutely gobsmacked when Sia snatched the brush back. She reached down, wrapped his mother’s useless fingers around the wood and lifted Maria’s hand in her own.

“Ready?” she said.

“No,” said Maria.

“Right,” Sia said then she moved the brush over to touch the canvas. Shaking, Maria’s hand pressed a wobbly line onto the painting as Sia guided it into an oblong.

Todd moved to stop her but then he noticed a familiar glint in his mother’s eye. She was focussed, working hard, trying to make it perfect. He couldn’t stop something she was now committed to.

“Terrible,” Maria said.

“Fixable,” Sia said, taking the paintbrush and dipping it in the glass of water by the leg of the easel. “You can’t fix a paint stroke that isn’t on the paper. How many times have I told you — you’re not a painter until you put colour on the canvas. No matter how badly you do so.”

“Tough woman, Sia,” Maria said but Todd heard the affection in her voice.

Sia laughed and kissed the older woman on the forehead. “You like that about me.”

“We’re done?” Finally Paul spoke up.

“We’re done,” Sia said.

“Good.” Todd didn’t ask, or give her a choice. He grabbed Sia by the arm and hauled her out of the room and into the lounge room.

Once there, he let her go. Even that small thing had made him too aware of her — despite her small stature, she was strong. His hands wrapped right around her arm and he had felt the softness of her skin on every inch of his fingers and palm.

Damn her for being so freaking beautiful.

“When my mother says no, she means no,” he said. “I won’t have you bully her.”

“I’m not bullying her.” Sia gently fingered her arm, as if he’d hurt her. Part of him hoped he had. The other part shrank from the thought. “But there’s a line of strong encouragement that she has always liked, always reacted well to and I’m not going to treat her differently because of the stroke. Too much of her life is already too different.”

Todd planted his fists on his hips and loomed over her. He was used to using his height to intimidate. “So now you’re the guardian angel. Guilt over killing my other parent, right?”

Sia’s eyes widened and her mouth opened, as if she were about to defend herself. Then she slammed it shut and took a deep breath.

“I like your mother very much,” she said softly. “She’s an amazing woman — strong, determined, generous, caring. I’ll do whatever it takes to help her get better and it has nothing to do with your father’s death.”

“Right.”

“Todd.” He was aware of her shifting her weight, her hand twitching and for an awful moment, he thought that she might reach for him. But she stayed still. “I am so sorry about what happened to your father. It was very unfair, for you all.”

“Fuck. So now you’re trying to win me with condolences? Ten years too late, Sia.”

“I said sorry at the time. You weren’t ready to listen.”

“I’ll never be ready to listen to the person responsible for my father’s death.”

She stopped breathing. He heard it. He noticed her chest not move. Then she said, so softly he barely heard it, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, well sorry won’t bring my father back.” He turned, unable to look at her any more. Then he stopped and spun back. She was staring at him with — was that pity?