Lonely Pride, Page 3

  * * *

  Sam curved her legs beneath her on the sofa, and ran a hand over the fat retriever who lay panting at the side of the chair. “Poor old Rusty. How bad is he?”

  Barbara sighed as she stared pensively at the sleeping dog. “Could have been a lot worse. Mac put a few stitches in his leg, as you can see. He bled quite a bit before someone found him at the side of the road and rushed him to Mac’s surgery. Mac is an excellent vet; Rusty will be fine in time. At least he’s alive...” Her fingers twisted jerkily. “Ironic, isn’t it? He got thrown clear, while Rob, who had a seat belt on…” She put a fist to her mouth.

  Sam rushed to put comforting arms about her mother. “I’m so sorry.” It seemed inadequate. “I don’t know what else to say.”

  “What is there to say?” Taking Sam’s hand in hers she squeezed it. “You never took to Rob, I know.” As Sam started to deny it, Barbara shook her head. “No, it’s true, and we both know it, so why not admit it to each other? I don’t blame you really. You were so vulnerable when he came into our lives. You adored your dad, I know, but I was still a young woman and in need of a reliable man’s shoulder to lean on. I hoped you’d find such a love, but...” Her shoulders lifted in a small shrug.

  “Rob never took your father’s place in my heart. But he tried to make me happy. He tried to make a go of the business, too. It was no fault of his he didn’t have the knack that came naturally to Tom. You can’t blame him entirely for the failure of the shop, you know. I have to take a share of the blame. I was so arrogantly sure I could carry on where Tom left off.”

  Sam didn’t agree, but wasn’t about to start casting blame at this late stage. Minutes ticked by while they both became lost in their thoughts, then Barbara said, “I’d really like to know if you left home because of the antagonism you felt for Rob. I know something happened between you and Mac that had a lot to do with your feeling the need to flee, but I’d like to be reassured Rob wasn’t to blame for you leaving home.”

  To say something happened between her and Mac was putting it mildly. Something had gone terribly wrong, but she’d never disclosed her real reasons for going to Melbourne. And wasn’t about to start now. “I can assure you Robert had nothing to do with the way I felt. I can’t lie and say I really cared for him, but I know he made you happy and that’s all that matters. I’m terribly sorry he was taken so cruelly, and my heart breaks for you to be left alone again.” She bent to kiss Barbara’s cheek.

  “I wouldn’t be alone if you came back to Tasmania,” her mother said softly, her eyes pleading.

  Sam suppressed a sigh as she gazed at the dog. “I’ve made a life for myself over there. And I’m very happy.” Another blatant lie.

  “Are you, Sam? Are you really happy? Or are you deluding yourself? All right, you don’t need to give me a glare,” she scoffed at Sam’s small grimace. “One day I’d like to know just what happened between you and Mac on your seventeenth birthday.”

  “One day I’ll tell you. But not right now. It’s no big deal, and was so long ago it’s hardly relevant.” That was an even bigger lie. Moving to sit on the floor she stroked the dog’s ear, ignoring her mother’s stifled sound of reproof.

  A sultry darkness had fallen, and Sam got up to flick on the light. They both blinked at the sudden brightness. “Fancy watching the TV?” she asked as she picked up the local newspaper and scanned the programs. “I guess we should watch the news.” Recalling the incident earlier and Mac’s warning, she closed the windows, left open to catch the evening breeze, and then pulled the drapes.

  “Good idea, I’ll pop the kettle on for a cup of tea.” Barbara went into the kitchen. Suddenly the lights went out, leaving a small strip of moonlight slanting through the glass panes of the back door. “Don’t tell me!” she grumbled. “Not another overload.” Coming back into the sitting room she scrabbled about in a draw and turned on the torch she found. “I’ll go and check the power box.”

  “I’ll come with you.” Sam trailed her as she went out onto the veranda, an uneasy feeling making her nervous.

  “That’s strange,” Barbara muttered when everything appeared to be in order. “The overload switch hasn’t turned off.”

  Sam scanned the darkened garden which now seemed eerie and forbidding. “Let’s get back inside.” She dragged her mother through the door and locked it after them. “We’d better check that all the windows are secured and the back door is locked.” She tried to conceal her agitation.

  “What could be wrong with the power?” Barbara puzzled as she followed Sam from room to room while she checked all the window latches and locks. “It’s not windy. I never lock the back door,” she grumbled. “I guess the lines could be down. I’ll ring the electricity people on the land-line.” After checking the number she kept on a small sticker above the phone she turned to Sam, who could just make out her frown. “That’s odd. It appears to be dead. It can’t be a storm, or we would have been warned.”

  Sam’s knees had begun to shake. Following Barbara back into the sitting room they both sat on the sofa. Apprehension made Sam nauseous. “I don’t want to frighten you, but those men the police are hunting could be in this area,” she said. Never mind about scaring her mother—she was terrified enough for both of them. “Where’s the radio, we’ll see if there’s any news on there about the search.”

  With a wave of the hand Barbara indicated the portable radio was in a drawer and Sam rose to get it. She froze as a car door slammed, then footsteps scrunched on the gravel of their driveway. Too fraught to think logically that a fugitive would be unlikely to make so much noise she held a scream in check.

  “Who’s there?” she demanded in a squeak.

  “It’s Mac.” Sam almost collapsed in relief at his familiar voice. Fumbling to let him in she had to restrain the urge to throw herself into his arms as he stepped over the threshold and shut the door after him.

  “The lights have gone out,” Barbara told him and Sam felt like laughing stupidly at the needless statement. Even in the city where people were getting bashed and robbed every day she never felt this nervous.

  “I came round to tell you why the power is out.” Mac’s fingers curled around Sam’s upper arm, and she forced herself not to lean into his hard body. “The police stopped me on the road to tell me the two men are in the vicinity and apparently have shot at the circuit box to disable the cables. They’ve made a nice old mess and the cops are sure they know who they are. One of them worked for the electricity commission and his younger brother, who’s slightly retarded mentally, is tagging along with him.”

  Sam’s skin still tingled when he released her arm, as if he’d left a permanent imprint there. He went to stand over her mother. “They will likely raid a farmhouse for food and ammo, the cops reckon they will accomplish this under the cover of darkness. They think they went berserk. Almost the entire area for miles around is out of power.”

  “Oh dear.” Barbara sounded distressed as she rose to take the torch from Sam. “I’ll fetch some candles.” She went into the kitchen and without thought Sam moved nearer to Mac. The heat coming off his body seemed to envelop her, blanketing her in security. With him here everything would be all right.

  Barbara came back and set three candles in holders about the room. The soft flicker they sent out lent an eerie quality to the already charged atmosphere. “Thanks for coming, Mac,” she said, going to open the cabinet that held the small supply of alcohol. “I need a drink. Want a sherry?”

  “A beer will do me fine,” he said. Sam watched as he went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Helping himself to a can of beer he opened it and took a swig. Sam wondered just how long her mother had been stocking up with beer. To her knowledge neither she nor Robert ever drank it.

  Barbara handed her a sherry then pensively sat drinking her own. “They must be scared out of their wits, out there hunted like animals.”

  “Mum, sometimes your sense of fair play is very misplaced.” Sam sighed a
s she sat in an armchair. “How can you feel sorry for them? They killed a defenseless man.”

  After her shower she’d pulled on a pair of skimpy shorts and a tube top which clung firmly to her breasts. She was becoming extremely conscious of Mac’s eyes lingering on her exposed flesh. Lounging back on the sofa, his large frame filling half of the space, he took the occasional swig from the can. He still wore the shorts and shirt he’d had on earlier and one sneaker covered foot rested easily across his knee. Sam squirmed as she spread her palms flat on her thighs as if the futile gesture would somehow cover her. His smile showed he was amused by her obvious self-consciousness.

  Barbara seemed oblivious to the charged tension emanating from both of them as she went on, “But we don’t know all the facts. Who’s to know if they meant to kill the poor man? It’s more likely they didn’t set out to commit such a crime. They probably attacked out of sheer panic. The younger one wouldn’t know what he was doing anyway.” With a sigh she swallowed her drink. Then she yawned and stood up. “Too many guns in the wrong hands. That’s half the trouble these days,” she grumbled. “Do you mind if I run along to bed? It’ll be a long day tomorrow and I’m pooped.”

  After bending to press a kiss on Sam’s cheek and telling Mac to help himself to another beer, she waved vaguely. Then left them alone.