Treasured Secrets (2 page)

She glanced at the time. The pastries would be done baking. When she opened the oven door, the sweet aroma of apples dusted with cinnamon sugar filled the galley. But as she lifted the pastries from the oven, she wasn't convinced they were the magic potions for Archer's torment. She'd tried to talk to him about the nightmares many times, but he refused to open up.

She nibbled on the buttery pastry, hoping it would ease her apprehension. It usually worked, but this time it had little effect. As a full-blooded Italian and a chef, this rarely happened. She was not one to procrastinate, and at the sound of footsteps she made up her mind to discuss the nightmares.
Again
. The decision to bring it up made her lose her appetite altogether.

Seconds later, Archer stepped into the kitchen. His white singlet showed off his healthy tan. Rosalina drank in the lines of his nicely toned shoulders, just enough muscle to make her feel safe in his arms, but not too much to throw his figure out of proportion. She inhaled his musk-scented cologne as he placed a quick kiss on her cheek and reached for a still steaming pastry.

‘Looks like it's going to be a nice day.' She leant back against the bench, hugged her mug to her chest and breathed in the full-bodied aroma, but her favourite coffee blend did little to settle her.

His quick smile drilled a dimple into each cheek. ‘Sure is. There's a nice breeze coming in; you can already tell it'll be a hot one.' He bit into the pastry, but when he gasped for air she knew it was still too hot. Not that it stopped him from devouring it in three more mouthfuls.

‘Mmm, yummy.'

She smiled at him. ‘You're the one that's yummy.'

He picked her up, sat her on the marble bench and parted her knees to ease his hips between her thighs. She wrapped her legs around him and hooked her ankles together, trapping him. His eyes softened and subtle creases curled at their corners when he smiled. ‘I'm sorry about last night.'

‘That damn nightmare…' She let the sentence hang, hoping he'd respond. But he didn't. ‘Did you get back to sleep?'

‘Yes.' He drove his fingers through his blond curls.

She studied him for a moment, and then said, ‘I know you didn't.'

The halo of gold flecks around his dark irises vanished in a flash. He released her ankles and stepped back, his jaw clenched.

She persisted anyway. ‘Honey, I really think you should see someone about what's haunting you.'

‘Not this again.'

‘But it's always the same dream. Right?' It was a trick question. She had no idea what the nightmares were about.

‘Yes.'

‘Are you being attacked or something?' She held her breath and inwardly cringed as she waited for an answer.

He narrowed his eyes at her. ‘I know what you're doing, but forget it. I'm not talking about it.'

‘This's ridiculous, Arch.' She jumped down from the bench and tilted her face up at him. ‘For three years you've been waking up beside me, screaming, and I don't know how to help.'

He grinned. ‘Lying next to your naked body helps.'

She cupped her coffee mug in one hand, placed her other hand on his chest and stared into eyes that had lost a fraction of their usual glimmer. ‘Let me in, Archer.'

‘I told you, no.' He took another step back from her, shaking his head.

‘Just tell me what it's about. Are you being murdered?'

‘No.' He said it as if she were being ridiculous.

‘It's frightening to see you like that.' She hesitated, her mind scrambling for the most convincing argument. ‘You always seem so scared. If I knew a little, I could help.'

‘It's nothing like that. Just a shark attack.'

She searched him for signs of truth. Although this admission was huge, it struck her as strange. When they scuba-dived together she'd seen him actually try to touch sharks. In fact, he seemed obsessed with getting close to them. Him having nightmares about them didn't make any sense.

‘But you're not scared of sharks,' she said, finally.

‘Nope. It's a stupid dream.' He reached for the necklace that never left his neck, wrapping his fingers around the unusual pendant.

The heavy gold piece was curved in shape and about the same size as his thumb. And as she'd done a hundred times before, she pondered its significance. It was another secret that frustrated her.
Why won't he talk about them?

She decided to push her luck. ‘Does the pendant have anything to do with it?'

Simmering mistrust flashed across his eyes and she instantly regretted the question.

‘I'm not talking about it, so drop it.'

Rosalina sighed and placed her coffee mug on the marble countertop. The morning elixir had suddenly become bitter. Archer's stubborn reluctance to trust her with the details of the nightmares and the pendant was distressing. What could possibly make them such a guarded secret? She had no doubt they were linked somehow; the way he clammed up when she mentioned either of them was testament to that.

‘We can't go on like this.' Their love would never be whole if he couldn't tell her everything. ‘You refuse to talk about two significant things in your life, and I go crazy thinking about them.'

‘You don't need to know. They mean nothing.'

Her heart jumped a beat. ‘They mean everything to you and that affects me. Your nightmares have us both crying in the middle of the night, and that damn pendant you refuse to take off just about knocks my teeth out every time we have sex.'

His eyes drilled into her and Rosalina knew she'd crossed a line. But this was the argument they had to have.

‘This is who I am. I can't change. Maybe it's time…' He hesitated, the muscles in his jaw tightening, ‘…for you to leave.'

Her stomach twisted at how easily he spoke those words. It was almost as if he'd been searching for a reason to get them out. ‘Is that what you want? You'd rather lose me than share your secrets? What the hell, Archer? Do you even love me?'

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Right now, I don't know.'

‘Love isn't something you can switch off. Either you love me or you don't.'

The coldness in his eyes scared her. Her chin quivered but she fought her emotions. She wanted the truth and didn't want her tears affecting his reaction. She walked to the window, turning her back to him. It gave her a moment to steel herself. ‘Answer me. Do you love me?' She held her breath as she stared out at the marina. His cold silence made her spin towards him.

‘Will you ever let me into your heart?' She waited for a reaction, any reaction.

Archer appeared frozen, trapped in confusion. His usual smiling eyes darkened, and in that moment, Rosalina knew the truth.

She stomped out of the galley, tears spilling down her checks. By the time she reached the pontoon her throat had constricted so much she could barely breathe. This time, the smell of frying bacon made her nauseous.

Archer called after her, but she ran on, ignoring the stares from people along the marina.

Rosalina kept up her pace until she reached the door to Archer's apartment. She fumbled with her key. Once inside, she punched the combination into the alarm panel and went to the upstairs bedroom.

Resisting the urge to throw herself onto the bed and cry the day away, she went into the bathroom to splash water on her face. The mirror reflected her bloodshot eyes, and fighting back tears had brought out the small scattering of freckles across her cheeks. Eleven freckles in total. She could've sworn they weren't there when she'd left Italy nearly five years ago.

It was over. Everything was over — her relationship with Archer and her dream to live in Australia forever. She couldn't live in the country she'd grown to love without him. It would never be the same. With burning anguish, she decided it was time to return home to Italy.

She knew Archer would stay with the real love of his life — his luxury super yacht,
Evangeline.
And Archer did love her. He spent every spare moment refining the multi-million dollar yacht, preparing her for clients with fistfuls of money and a sense of adventure. He'd be trapped there with work for the rest of the day. That gave her seven hours to get out of his life.

Dashing away tears, she packed her belongings into boxes, addressed them to her Nonna in Tuscany and carted them to the post office. Then she made the difficult calls to her friends to say goodbye, knowing full well she might never see them again.

Within six hours she was at Cairns airport, waiting for her flight to Rome.

Archer dreaded every step he took towards home. All day he'd stewed over his argument with Rosalina and no matter which way he replayed it, it wasn't good. His head pounded with an ache that started at the base of his neck and ended as a deep thump behind his eyelids. Now, after a long, frustrating day with his Japanese guests, he tried to picture how Rosalina would greet him.

He figured there were two options. One would be the forgiving Rosalina, keen on working through their problems. The other would be the cold-shouldered Rosalina, where she'd be expecting him to make the first move. Either way, he was in for a long night.

Archer keyed the lock in the door and stepped over the threshold. Her name formed on his lips, but stayed trapped in his throat when he saw the lounge room. Every one of her little knick-knacks, the ones she'd insisted on buying to make the apartment look more homely, were gone.

His heart leapt to his throat as he raced upstairs. ‘Rosa!' One look at their bedroom was enough to confirm what he'd already concluded. She'd left him. He checked the bathroom, not that he needed to, and her pink toothbrush was no longer there.

Archer sat on the bed, drew his elbows to his knees and covered his eyes with his palms. She'd done it. Never, could he have pictured her leaving like this.

His first instinct was to go after her and explain his reasons for acting the way he had. But then, as he weighed up all the scenarios, he realised he would only be drawing out the inevitable. Right now, as shocking as this was, the end result was what he'd hoped for her.

His brain and his heart were both a scrambled mess as he returned downstairs. With no idea what to do, he grabbed a six-pack of beer from the fridge and carried it out to the deck. As he sat there, looking out over the marina, a sea eagle soared over the dozens of boats moored in the calm water, with all the grace and freedom in the world. And that's when he realised that setting Rosalina free was the best decision he'd ever made. But with each bottle of beer he downed, the conclusion didn't get any easier.

By the time he crawled into bed, hours and hours later, he still felt like shit. His head kept up its pounding and the empty bed beside him didn't help one bit. Archer switched off the bedside lamp and, as the yellowed marina lights fought the darkness, he slipped into both a restless sleep and the watery purgatory that dominated his life.

* * *

Bubbles, lots of bubbles, large and small, rumbled from his mouthpiece and floated upward until they vanished into the sunlit surface. The colour of the water gradually morphed from turquoise to blue. Maybe the clouds had covered the sun.

His own shadow shifted against the sea floor as a school of small, silvery fish swirled around him like windblown leaves. Something shiny glowed from within a small hole in the colourful coral, and with a kick of his fins he glided towards it. He reached into the hole, feeling with his fingers, and the golden trinket slotted into his palm as if it was meant to be there.

A shadow, more solid and definite than shifting cloud cover, slid over him and he looked up. The shape materialised through the sun-filtered haze, slicing through the water like a demon. A shark as big as a surfboard swam past slow and steady, as if measuring him up for dinner.

Its eyes were flat and unblinking, messengers of death. A figure appeared through the haze. He couldn't make out the person's face through his dive mask, but somehow he knew it was his father.

Water wrapped around his body, grew heavy and squeezed the air out of him. The bubbles rose more slowly now, as if taking in every second of the show. With each forced breath, his father gradually disappeared, like he'd only been an illusion.

The shark came close. Too close. It opened its mouth, exposing its teeth. So many razor-sharp teeth.

Archer screamed and kicked backwards. Blood swirled, colouring the water crimson. Pain blazed down his leg. Churning bubbles clouded his vision. He thrashed around, fighting for the surface.

When he looked back, three metres of solid killing machine was charging through the water. Straight towards him.

* * *

Archer jolted awake. He sat up, gasping for air. Adrenaline surged through him like a lit firecracker. He reached for the glass of water he'd put on his side table before he'd gone to bed and gulped it down, hoping the liquid would cool his boiling insides.

His heart sank when he glanced at the empty bed beside him. It sank even further when he glanced at his bedside clock. Two a.m. Always two a.m.

Archer untangled himself from the sheets and strolled to the open window. He eased into the comfy chair he'd placed here for this very purpose and let the ocean breeze lick the sweat off his body. Hundreds of flickering lights from the marina lit up the view like a busy cityscape. The sight usually brightened him, reassured him he was living his dream, but how perfect could his dream be when it was constantly hijacked by a recurring nightmare?

Rosalina wrapped her fingers around her grandmother's frail hand and followed her to the dining table where a dozen people sat around a mountain of home-cooked meals. Their smiling faces and infectious laughter did little to lift her spirits. Today was her birthday and in the eyes of her family, she was certain she saw their disappointment in her. A woman her age should be married and have a family of her own, not starting over.