Losing Faith (Surfers Way) (23 page)

“I’m not hungry.”

“You know what your father would say, don’t you?” she chastises.

“Yeah, yeah. The appetite comes by eating.”

How can I think about food at a time like this? Maybe he hasn’t contacted me because he needed time to think? I pull my phone from my pocket. My heart sinks with the absence of any attempt of contact by Quade.

“It might be best if I go see him tomorrow. Besides, it might take a while to clean this up.”

Mum gives me a soft smile and then bends down and picks up some papers from the ground. “What are we doing with all this then?” she challenges with raised eyebrows. “Are we binning it, or …?” She tilts her head to the side.

I let out a heavy sigh and try and gather some enthusiasm. I know exactly what I need to do. “We put it back up on the wall and then I’ll start again. The truth will be discovered.”

“That’s my girl,” she says with a proud smile.

Over the next half an hour, my mother helps me piece my mess back together, and at the same time puts parts of my heart back in place.

When I take the sheets off my bed, the corner of a blue Post-It note peeks out from underneath it.

Flecks of white paint at scene?

God, I remember writing this down after overhearing Wilson at the station that day. I’d disregarded it, considering it wasn’t the most useful thing given how many white cars are around. I stick the note on the board and take a step back.

“That’s all I’ve got, Mum.”

A hand curls over my shoulder. “Something will come up,” she says in a soft voice.

I close my eyes and picture Faith’s grave. A yellow rose is perched on top of the stone.

That’s it.
The rose
.

It might be Mrs Kelly, and it might not be. Regardless, I’m determined to find out who’s leaving them at the cemetery and what his or her connection is to Faith. It might amount to nothing, but it could be something. Something could mean everything.

Starting tomorrow, I’ll stalk the cemetery every day. I’ll have words with Mr Moore too. If anyone knows who’s been leaving the flowers, I’m sure he does.

If I don’t get answers there, I’ll just have to keep looking. I owe it to Faith not to give up.

The next morning, determined to get a positive start to the day I take Charlie for a run on the beach. When we return, I can’t stop the sadness from creeping in as I glare at my car in the driveway. I’d enjoyed our driving lessons. I’d started to think that maybe I could overcome my worst fear. That maybe I could shake off my stupid anxiety over the whole thing and actually grow up.

Faith wouldn’t want me to give up.
Looks like I’ll need to take Mum and Dad up on their offer of lessons after all.

I lead Charlie out the back and hose him down, then take a shower and pull on a red tank top and denim shorts. Determined to get back to the business of the yellow rose, I decide to go to the cemetery first.

If I find out the truth, discover who killed Faith, will it fix everything?

I put my earphones in and hope that listening to Coldplay will push away my dark thoughts with each step towards the hill. My feet have other ideas when I get to the junction of Quade’s street, which weaves further inland.
Shit.

Is the cosmos driving me towards him? Is Faith up there looking down on me, willing me to do what needs to be done first?

His car isn’t in the driveway. Despite my knocking, there’s no answer, nor can I identify any sounds inside to suggest he’s home.

The beach is next. No sign of him.

I walk towards the school, breathing a loud sigh of relief as I spy his truck in the car park.

When I approach the school grounds, the sounds of a ball hitting the backboard and bouncing on the asphalt fill my ears with hope. My heart soars as I round the corner and find him alone.
He’s here
. He must’ve been playing in the heat for a while because his white tank top is drenched in sweat.

Quade looks up. He continues to bounce the ball. He misses the hoop.

I’m sorry
, I go to say, but then close my mouth. I can’t see that I did anything wrong here. Why would I be the one to apologise?

“I’ve tried to call you,” I blurt out.

“I know,” he grunts, bouncing the ball repeatedly. Each bounce is a test of my patience, and aggravates the cracks in my heart.

My hands move to my hips of their own accord. I stare at Quade, willing him to look at me. “Can we talk?” My words are harsher and louder than I’d intended.

His head snaps in my direction. I guess I had to speak that way to at least get his eye contact.

“Talk? Been doing a lot of that lately,” he grunts then shoots. This time the ball lands in the hoop. He jogs over and collects it.
Bounce, bounce, bounce.

I let out a tortured breath as the bouncing continues. Clearly he’s wound up tight about everything, but I don’t know why he’s being so cold. “Talk to me,” I say in a calmer, measured tone.

“Huh. Lemme tell you about the little ‘talk’ I had with my parents yesterday. For the first time in years, my parents finally wanted to talk to me about everything—about Faith, and you know what they had to say?”

“What?” I ask with a shaky voice.

“That you turned it into a witch hunt, changing Runaway into a place where everyone suspected each other. Because of you, people ostracised our family for fear of being accused. Is that true?”

Wow. His parents have put all of that on me? “That’s not the way I see it. If anything at all, I’ve ostracised myself. I used to have friends. Now I can count them on one hand and have fingers left over. I don’t want her death to have been for nothing. Someone had to do something.”

“Jesus, Lace!” He shakes his head and tosses the ball aside. “Can’t you see what I’m trying to do here? I want my family back.”

“And I want you back! That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Tears well in my eyes as I stare into his crystal pools which reflect the hurt searing through my veins.

“Like you wanted Jamie Fairfield the night Faith died? Like you had a thing for him all along?”

Ouch!
If there was any more bite to his tone, he would have drawn blood.

My jaw sags. Does he seriously believe that I had feelings for Jamie when I was about to give myself to him? “I don’t know where your mother heard such rubbish, but it’s not true. There’s never been anyone but you.”

“He always liked you. I was obviously too blind to see you had feelings for him.”

“That’s not true. Nothing happened between us the night of the bonfire. I’m not going to keep protesting my innocence, because you should believe me, Quade.”

“I just don’t understand why my own mother would lie about something like that?”

Because she’s demented?
“To keep you away from the girl that’s done nothing but ruin your family?” I take a step closer to him and tilt my head back to meet his conflicted gaze.

He has nothing to say? Is he going to tell me I’m being ridiculous, and that of course I didn’t ruin it? My heart sinks heavier in my chest as his silence speaks volumes.

“You know what hurts the most, Lace?” he finally says. “You slept with him the day we buried her.”

He knew I’d been with him, but he didn’t know when. I couldn’t be more ashamed of myself if I tried. “And it’s the biggest regret of my life.”

I take a few steps back, resigning myself to the fact that whatever we were, and whatever great thing we were going to become, it’s over. He needs to believe in me. That’s what this all comes down to.

“I’ll leave you to get back to your family then, ’cause it’s pretty clear you can’t have both. They’ve made up their mind about me, and by the looks of it, you have too.”

He lowers his head and his shoulders drop as he exhales with force. That’s the only cue I need to turn around and walk away.

“Lace,” he calls out from behind me, telling me from the distance that his feet probably haven’t moved from where they were planted.

Tears flow down my face, but I don’t turn back.

Guard your heart, Peppi
, my father had warned.

It’s a shame I didn’t take his advice.

---

A fucking yellow rose is perched on top of her stone. I close my eyes and grit my teeth as I will myself not to scream at the top of my lungs. I’m about ready to lose my mind.
I’ve missed him or her again
. Travis drove past the cemetery yesterday. Could it have been him?
As if he’d think to do something nice like this. I’m really grasping at straws, now.

I open my eyes, breathe in slowly, and then pick up the flower. The petals are slightly wilted. Is that from the heat, or was it picked a day or two ago?

I scan over the surrounding graves for any other similar flowers. Each headstone that doesn’t have one has me walking on to the next, and then the next. I need to know if this is the only one here. If there’s more, I might be able to find some connection. If not, I’ll know that the person who left it has a link to Faith … somehow.

I scout the whole cemetery, scaling up and down every row.

There’s only one.

On my way back to Faith, I pass Mr Moore, who’s carrying a backpack. He must be done for the day.

“Miss Marone,” he says, with a nod.

“Mr Moore. How are you?”

He chuckles softly. “I’m alive.”

“Do you have a second?” I ask.
Is he going to think I’m crazy?

“Of course, dear,” he says, and scans my face expectantly. “Depends what it is, but I’ll do my best. I’m not as sharp as I used to be.”

With a shaky hand, I hold the rose out towards him. “You see this?”

He looks at it and blinks several times, then looks back up at me. “Yes.”

“Do you have to clean up these often? This time of year someone leaves yellow roses on Faith’s grave. I need to know who puts them there.”
I have to talk to them.

He presses his thin lips together and gives me a stern look. “Now, now. It’s not my place to talk about those who come to grieve.”

Why not suspect the last person I’ve seen here?
Because I’m certifiably crazy
. It’s not the first time over the years I’ve seen him here.
I should look up where he lives
.

Yup. I’ve lost the plot.

“What about Mr Whittaker? Does he come here often?”

Mr Moore pats me on the shoulder. “Dear, perhaps you should just look at it as a kind gesture. Someone is thinking of her and the angel she has become.”

“I guess you’re right,” I say, resigned.
I’ll still keep digging.

“Good evening,” he says, and carries on walking down the path.

“Bye,” I whisper to his frail frame as he disappears from view.

I take my time making my way back to her, toying with the mysterious flower and thinking about stupid boys and broken hearts.

I sit and cross my legs at the foot of her grave, hanging my head in my hands, my elbows resting on my knees.

“It’s such a mess, Faith,” I choke out, wiping wet trails from my cheeks. “We were finally together, but your mother’s intent on breaking us apart.”

The wind whistles in the trees, the noise almost deafening as it lashes around the solemn grounds.

“I don’t know what I did to her for her to say such horrid things. All I’ve done since you left is try to honour your memory. I want justice for you, but it’s not enough for her. I don’t think it’s enough for Quade either. I mustn’t mean as much to Quade as I thought. He didn’t defend me, Faith. Didn’t even try.”

I place the rose beneath her stone and sit back on my heels. “He thinks I had a thing for Jamie all along. When I told him he was wrong and that sleeping with Jamie was my biggest regret, his silence was like a knife to my heart. A part of me died the day we buried you. I was drunk. I wanted to forget everything that night. I’m lost, Faith. I love your brother, with every part of me, but—”

“He loves you,” a smooth voice says from behind me.

I turn and take in the giant shadow. A shiver rushes over my flesh like a tidal wave. His feet are planted shoulder-width apart, arms by his sides, palms facing me. When I glance up to meet his glistening eyes, I strangle a sob in my throat.

“And he’s sorry,” he adds, kneeling beside me.

“What does that even mean?” I snort.

“I’m sorry I didn’t stand up for you. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you. It was a huge mistake and I hope more than anything we can come back from it. I couldn’t understand why my own mother would lie, try to hurt me and sabotage us. I just think because she’s so miserable, she doesn’t want anyone else to be happy. I’m being pulled in two directions. I want to be with you, and I want things back the way they used to be with my parents. It’s clear I want two things that can’t co-exist. I—I never thought I’d have to choose. I thought coming back to Runaway would be easier.”

Love should be simple, but it’s not
, Mum said. How right she is.

“Why don’t you get to the point, tell me it’s over so I can get back to falling apart, already.” I sniff back my runny nose then stare at the rose. I can’t look him in the eye when he tells me we’re done, because I know it’ll haunt me for far too long, just like it did the last time he left.

Quade kneels beside me and lifts my chin with his outstretched finger.

“The way I see it, Lace, you’re the only choice. I shouldn’t have to fight for my parents’ affection or approval, but more than that, regardless of my issues with them I don’t want a future without you … I just hope that you’ll have me back.”

My chest jerks as I take in a stuttered breath. “I’d take you back in a heartbeat, Quade. You know that. But I need to know what changed your mind?”

He huffs a breath out through his parted lips. “I ran into my cousin Eden on the way here. She said I looked like shit, so we sat down and had a chat. I wasn’t in the mood to talk but she made me. Hard to say no to her.”

“What did Eden say?” I ask with indifference, shrugging one shoulder. Will something a girl I thought might have been on drugs said to him really make a difference?

“She was ready to go around to see Mum and tear her a new one for the shit she’s been spreading around town.”

“So it was Eden’s word that changed your mind?”

“Nope. My mind was made up before then. I was gutted after you left. I had a good fucking talking to myself on that court. Seeing that look in your eye, knowing that my stupidity put it there was the kick in the arse I needed. I knew deep down you were telling the truth. I was just blinded by everything else to truly see it. It was hard to hear that there might’ve been more between you and Jamie. I just hope you can forgive me, and that we’re okay.”

I could yell at Quade, scream, but that’s not me.
Harsh words cut deep
. I love Quade. We’ve both been hurt enough. I just want everything to be okay.

“We’ll be okay, Quade. We just need to talk to each other?”

“Yeah, I know.” He lets out a heavy sigh. “My parents can’t see straight. They see me as sleeping with the enemy and they’re pretty determined to shut me out. Especially Mum. Deep down I know that’s not the only reason. I’ve always had to fight for their attention. I’ll never be Faith.”