Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(115)

“But can she run a hugely popular and successful festival?”

“Maybe.” Gemma smiled. “Probably, even?”

“I’m not so sure about that. But Joel seems really happy, hey?”

“Doesn’t he?”

“Good to see.”

“God, yes. So good.”

After the kitchen was clean, they all watched a movie together. Falk sat with Gemma on the couch, Luna’s head resting on his lap. When it was over, Joel and Molly went to bed, and Falk wandered through the house, turning off the lights. He could hear Gemma moving around in their bedroom and the soft murmur of the kids talking in Joel’s room. He let Luna out one last time, waiting for her to come back and settle before locking the front door. He brushed his teeth, took off his clothes, and got into bed, and he and Gemma reached for each other across the sheets.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Afterward, Falk lay in the deep, cool darkness and listened to the steady rise and fall of her breathing. He closed his eyes and slept well, as he did most nights. Because it was only very occasionally these days that Falk found himself lying awake, trying to work out exactly what was bothering him.



* * *



On Saturday mornings, Falk slept in while Gemma went to hot yoga. The house felt still when he got up, the sunlight bright in the windows as he dressed in his running gear. The door to Joel’s room was still shut, with no sign of movement from either him or Molly.

This was the first time Joel had brought anyone home to stay, and Falk had been sitting out on the veranda with Gemma a few days earlier when her phone had rung. It had been Joel calling from uni in a mild panic, asking if she would please tidy up his bedroom before he brought Molly back. Not even ten minutes later, he’d texted Falk, the state of panic now elevated to high, with the locations of a couple of harmless personal items he would really appreciate being quietly disappeared before Gemma got started in there.

Falk had found nothing he felt would elicit much more than a raised eyebrow from Gemma but had nevertheless covertly sanitized the scene. That done, he’d later given Gemma a hand bagging up the obvious rubbish, straightening up the stuff that wasn’t, and running most of what was left covering the floor through the washing machine.

Falk had come back from the laundry balancing an armful of folded clothes, and paused at the open door. Gemma had been sitting very still on the stripped bed, the swirling dust in the air carving out sharp beams of light across the room. A half-filled rubbish bag lay open in one hand, and she was holding a small object in the other. It was the jar, Falk had realized with a jolt as she turned it over. The fragments of the broken barrier that Joel had collected from Dean’s accident scene rattled inside. Falk had felt instantly both annoyed and surprised with himself for not having thought to remove the jar as well. He was too relaxed these days.

Sensing him there, Gemma had looked up, then immediately down at the open rubbish bag and the jar in her hand. Guilt had flashed across her face.

“He’d never forgive me.” She’d tried to smile.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I am. I—” She’d put the jar down, out of sight. “I just can’t believe he still has this.”

The room was good enough, they’d decided, and had taken Luna for a long walk instead.

Gemma was back from yoga, and the kids were up when Falk got home from his run. He showered and changed, and they all had breakfast and coffee around the table, then put on their shoes and jackets and walked together into town. Joel took Molly off to show her around, and Falk and Gemma strolled a little farther before he kissed her goodbye outside a café, waved through the window at Naomi and a couple of her other friends, and left them to it.

Alone again, Falk wandered back up the main street with Luna, stopping for a while to browse in the bookshop. The street was busier when he reemerged, and he noticed Charlie’s truck now parked up ahead. It was locked and empty, Falk could tell as he approached, but he slowed down anyway and looked around just in case. No sign of Charlie.

Falk called to Luna and kept moving. He passed the office block where Kim Gillespie and Dean Tozer had worked as next-door neighbors, and glanced over, as he sometimes found himself doing. The businesses lay closed for the weekend, their darkened windows overlooking the passersby and the police station across the road. Falk caught his reflection in the glass. It felt like more than six months since the day he’d been standing there on the pavement and run into Charlie. When Charlie had first offered him work at the vineyard and a glimpse of the life he led now.

Falk quite often found his thoughts drifting back to that afternoon, perhaps because when he looked back now, the moment felt like a true fork in the road. Sometimes he thought he’d made his decision then, even if he hadn’t realized it at the time. It had been a good decision. As he walked on now, with Luna beside him and the sun on his face, Falk knew that if he could go back, he would make exactly the same choice again. No question. Because whenever he thought back to— Falk stopped abruptly.

A woman behind bumped into him, and he apologized, stepping to the side of the pavement and out of the way. Luna followed, staring up at him as patient as ever, but Falk ignored her for once. Instead, he simply stood there, with the Saturday-morning foot traffic bustling past him and his thoughts somewhere else entirely. Eventually, he felt Luna shift at his feet, curious what they were waiting for.