“Jesus, Kim.” He reached out his hand to her. “Relax.”
She flinched at the word, ducking as though he’d hit her. She had tears in her eyes. Rohan felt the hot, burning swell of anger again. For God’s sake, he wasn’t that kind of man. Instead, he took a fast step forward, grabbing at her as she tried to pull away, dragging her into a tight embrace. His arm gripped around her waist, and his hand rested on the back of her head. Her hair was soft entwined in his fingers. Her palms were trapped flat against his chest, her face buried in his shoulder.
“Rohan, please.” Kim’s voice was muffled against him, like she was trying to catch her breath. “They’re expecting me. Rohan? Please. Let go.”
Rohan stopped listening and simply held on to her, so tight and close, because there was nothing left to say now. This was the end of them, and she must know that as well. Charlie’s baby, the party at the reservoir. There was no coming back from that. But at the same time, he didn’t want this to be the end. He didn’t want her to leave him. It couldn’t be fixed, he knew that, but he felt a childish protective surge. She’s still mine.
He loved her, he did, even if sometimes this didn’t feel like love but something painful and twisted and dark. But it must be something worth holding on to, because Rohan couldn’t seem to let Kim go.
So he held her, even as she struggled, finding a fight in herself that he hadn’t really thought she had. He was almost proud of her, as he whispered in her ear—butiloveyoukimpleasestopjusttrustme—and pressed her face deeper into the clean cotton of his shirt. His wife’s back was against the wooden safety barrier, and he could feel her bracing against it, still trying to push him away, so he applied a little pressure with his elbow to her neck. They stood there, locked in a macabre convulsing dance until finally, after what felt like a long time, Kim wasn’t pushing him away anymore. Rohan held her for a minute more, and then released her.
Kim slumped slack and lifeless against the barrier and it really didn’t take anything to tip the balance and there was a terrible short pocket of absolutely nothing and then far below, the sickening crack and smack of something heavy plummeting through the thick bushland canopy and hitting the hidden ground beneath.
There was a silence. No. Not silence. Zoe was bawling from the car. Rohan blinked. How long had that been going on? He didn’t know. He stood there, unsure how much time was passing—a minute, ten?—then made himself lean over the barrier and look down.
Nothing.
A hundred meters below, there was only an impenetrable tangle of trees. He was alone, and Kim wasn’t there anymore.
They’re expecting me.
Rohan looked up, out at the valley.
When he faced a difficult problem at work—a crumbling bridge, a bend in a series of support beams, life-or-death stuff if left unchecked—he always did the same thing. He ran through each viable option. It was an instinctive response after all these years, and he almost wasn’t surprised to feel it kick in now, stuttering and stumbling a little in shock before whirring to life. Pros and cons, nonnegotiables. It was all taken into account. And eventually, the best way forward tended to become clear. Even if Rohan suspected the solution from the start, he still went through the process. It helped him commit to the decision, then execute it well.
This situation—high up and alone at the lookout—was different. But also, a strange, tiny voice whispered, not that different.
Rohan stood there, following each path of thought until at last he had a plan. He had a suitcase of Kim’s belongings in the car. Her white sneakers with the scorch mark, her antidepressant medication. It was not a perfect solution, not by a long way, but it was the one he felt gave him the best chance. Rohan closed his eyes and tested it again. He could do this. If he held it together, he could.
The baby was still screaming.
Kim’s daughter, Charlie’s daughter. Not his. And Rohan didn’t owe that child anything.
Rohan stepped away from the lookout, took a final breath, then climbed into his car. The passenger seat was empty. He started the engine and turned the wheel toward Marralee, ready to face his wife’s family and friends.
37
The placid water glinted in the late-afternoon light as Falk gazed out over the reservoir. He was waiting for Joel to arrive, the supplies they needed stacked neatly at his feet. Falk closed his eyes and felt the heat from the sun on his shoulders. The day was pleasantly warm, hinting at what would be in store in a few months’ time here, when spring turned into summer. Back at the vineyard, Falk’s bag lay half-packed on the guesthouse bed. He was due in Melbourne the following morning. He should probably check what the weather was doing there.
“Hey.”
Falk opened his eyes. He saw Joel walking along the track toward the Drop and raised a hand. “G’day.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Joel said as he got closer. “Zara called.”
“No worries. She okay?”
Falk and Raco had spent a lot of time with Zara over the past two days. She couldn’t bear to stay still, so they’d gone with her on long, angry walks, Zara pounding around the reservoir trail, striding out fast, her footsteps thudding against the packed earth. A lot of the time she hadn’t wanted to talk, breaking the silence only to throw out a barbed query or accusation. Other times she couldn’t seem to stop, diving into circular, meandering conversations in which she asked the same questions over and over in different ways. Falk knew he and Raco weren’t giving her the answers she wanted to hear, but he wasn’t sure what else they could offer.
“Zara, mate, I don’t think there’s anything I can tell you to make this okay,” Raco had said finally.
They’d been sitting on a fallen log on a part of the reservoir track Falk had never been to before, listening to the gentle lap of the water. Exhausted, Zara had allowed herself to stop walking at last, and she’d looked up at her uncle’s voice.
“If you can take in anything right now,” Raco had gone on, “I just want to thank you for not letting us give up. We loved Kim, and I know you know that. But you’re the one who fought for her.”
Zara had gazed beyond him, out across the shimmering body of water. Somewhere on the other side was the stretch of reservoir track that led to the festival’s east exit. Falk pictured the rope clipped across it, still and slack. No one coming in or going out.
“What’s going to happen to Zoe?” she had asked suddenly. Falk and Raco had exchanged a look. This was a different question at least, and the first time Zara had talked about anyone other than Kim. “I knew Mum wouldn’t have left her alone, but Rohan still did.” She sounded almost dazed at the realization. “How could he do that?”
“I’m pretty sure that at the time Rohan thought Zoe was Charlie’s baby,” Raco had said gently. “Maybe that made it easier.”
“Is she?” Zara had sat a little straighter. “Like Nan said at the christening?”
But Raco had shaken his head. “She’s not. We can check for sure, but you can tell by looking that she’s not. And Rohan took care of her all year, so he must have worked that out for himself before too long.”