The Lawson Boys: Alex by Angela Verdenius

to tell me.” He shook her hand a
little in frustration. “I still deserved to know, but I had no idea
that you were afraid of me. I’d never have laid a finger on you.
I…” It was his turn to stop talking.
    Was she still
afraid of him? The wariness in her eyes was of him.
    That bloody
hurt. It also made him bloody mad, but no way could he let her see
that, so he took a deep breath to steady himself, forcing the anger
back, bringing in the composure he’d worked so hard at to control
his temper.
    Yeah, he’d had
a bad temper when younger, but maturity had taught him a lot, as
had the war and being a Sergeant in the Australian Army. Life had a
way of retraining a person and making them realise what was
important.
    Harly was
watching him guardedly.
    Alex managed a
small smile. “Stop sweating, Harly. I’m not going to leap over the
table and strangle you.”
    “Saving that
for another day?”
    The unexpected
wry answer elicited a brief laugh from him. “No. Never.”
    “Okay.” She
looked down at their hands.
    Following her
gaze, he saw that somehow his hand had turned beneath hers and now
their fingers were entwined. He certainly didn’t remember doing
it.
    Several things
registered at once. Her hands were soft, her fingers pale against
his tanned skin, and she had little calluses that brushed against
his much larger ones.
    In an odd way,
their clasped hands also felt very right.
    The realisation
was unsettling, so he released her hand and sat back, gesturing to
the barmaid. She came across and he ordered another Coke for
himself and Lemonade for Harly. They sat in contemplative silence
the drinks were delivered.
    “So.” Harly
looked at him. “Now what?”
    Now what
indeed. He’d come to Whicha breathing fire and suddenly all that
was left were smouldering ashes.
    “I guess I have
my answers,” he replied slowly.
    “So now you’re
going?”
    “No.”
    Surprise lit
her face. “Why?”
    “I’m still on
leave. I’m staying a few weeks to help Paul out.” He took a
mouthful of the Coke, welcoming the chill that slid down his
throat.
    “Okay.”
Reaching out, she took a chip from the bowl and bit into it,
chewing thoughtfully. “Who told you, Alex? And when? It must have
been recently or you would have been here sooner.”
    “I got a letter
five months ago.” On the worse day ever. Not a day he wanted to
remember.
    “From who?”
    “Your
grandmother.”
    Harly looked
blankly at him. “She’s been dead for a couple of years. You had the
letter the whole time?”
    “No. My
brother, Marty, had shifted some of the old furniture in the
hallway of our house. The table we used to put mail on had a false
backing and when he shifted the table it fell open and the letter
fell out. It must have gotten stuck in there somehow and no one
noticed for several years. He forwarded it on to me.”
    “So he
knows?”
    “He forwarded
it unopened.”
    “Oh.” Relieved,
she took another chip. “Somehow my Grandmother knew. So who told
her?” Harly’s eyes widened. “My mother? I doubt it. Besides, she
didn’t know you were the father, so how could Grandma know?”
    “Who knows how
your Grandma knew? And as for your mother, maybe she had to tell
someone. Who can you trust if not your own mother?” At Harly’s
slightly cynical expression, he cleared his throat. “Forget I said
that. Whatever, your Grandmother found out and sent me a letter
that I never got.”
    “But you were
so young.”
    “The letter was
dated two years ago.”
    “Really?”
Frowning, Harly grabbed hold of her glass and angling it, she
rolled the bottom edge on the table. “What was the date on the
letter?”
    “Second
January, 2010.”
    “She died on
the twenty fifth of heart failure. She’d been in hospital for
awhile.” Harly stilled the glass. “A deathbed confession?”
    “Was she close
to you?”
    “Pretty much.
As close as my family gets, anyway.”
    “Which doesn’t
sound very close.”
    Harly
shrugged.
    “So