Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(41)

Raco nodded. “It’s impossible, though. There were kids there who aren’t in the pictures, people I never knew and don’t remember. And where Naomi found Kim, it wasn’t far from that main reservoir track”—Naomi was nodding in confirmation—“so anyone could have come along there. Someone from the festival. Dog walker. Late-night jogger. You’d never know.”

From inside the house, they heard the front door close.

“That’s him.” Raco immediately straightened and hurried inside. Falk watched him go and suppressed a smile. Father Connor was in the building. Naomi caught his eye. She also looked a little amused, and the tightness in her face relaxed.

“Come on.” She stepped around the table, slipping her honed body through the gap between the chairs. “We’ll get through this together.” She linked her arm through Falk’s. “Do you have kids, Aaron?”

“No,” he said. “You?”

“Three.”

“Really?”

“They’re with my ex-husband for the school holidays.” She peered up at him from beneath her eyelashes. “You sound surprised.”

“Oh. No.” He was. Definitely.

“Sometimes people are,” she said with the kind of confidence unique to a woman who knew she looked spectacular in leggings, and Falk had to smile back.

A round, white-haired man who exuded the welcoming warmth of a freshly boiled kettle was already settled and waiting for them in the kitchen. He was slipping cookies from a plate on the table to Eva, who was cramming them into her mouth with gusto while Rita made coffee. Henry was dozing, so Raco passed him to Falk and then hovered, getting in everyone’s way.

Falk pulled up a chair next to Naomi, ready to engage in his first real conversation with a representative of the church since—when? He tried to think. Organizing his father’s funeral, possibly. Before that, he couldn’t remember. Falk had never been religious, but after a while he had to admit there was something innately soothing about sitting here in his friend’s sunny kitchen, drinking good coffee and holding his sleeping godson-to-be while listening to this affable man talk about how a child was a blessing and it took a village.

Afterward, Naomi asked a couple of questions that Falk suspected were more out of courtesy than confusion, and which Father Connor was delighted to answer. He finished by pumping their hands and congratulating them on their roles so enthusiastically that it was almost as though Falk and Naomi were the proud new parents themselves. As he rose to leave, Falk felt almost disappointed. He could have sat there longer.

“Well,” Naomi said, when she and Falk were alone again. She leaned back in her kitchen chair and smiled at him. Raco had taken Henry back, and the soft murmur of him and Rita saying goodbye to the priest floated along the hallway. “I think between us we’ll manage. What do you reckon?”

“I think so,” Falk said, although possibly believing it for the first time.

“So. No kids of your own.” Naomi was still looking at him. She raised an eyebrow. “How about girlfriends? Got one of those?”

“Nope.”

“Oh my goodness. More than one, Aaron?”

He laughed. “No. Fewer.”

“I see. Just curious.” Naomi flashed him a teasing smile. She wasn’t interested herself, he felt sure, but was watching him with the private satisfaction of a woman who’d received the right answer.

“Does—” he started, then stopped as Rita reappeared. Her face was a little worried. “Everything okay?”

“Oh. Yes, thanks.” Rita let Falk top up her coffee mug, but her face didn’t change.

“You sure?” He glanced at Raco, who also seemed flat.

“It’s just…” Rita swallowed a mouthful of hot coffee and grimaced. “Is this whole thing ridiculously insensitive?”

“What thing?” Naomi blinked. “The christening?”

“Father Connor mentioned Kim in passing as he left.” Raco’s voice was a little subdued. “Saying he was glad we’d rearranged after last year.”

“But so many people are going to make that connection,” Rita said. “Remembering why we canceled. The fact it’s the anniversary. All of it.”

Naomi reached across the table. “I realize people are always claiming to know what someone would have wanted after they’re gone, but honestly, Rita? Kim would’ve supported you in this.”

“Yeah. I mostly feel that, too.” Rita’s mouth tightened. “But then I can’t stop thinking about last year. That I should have made more of an effort at the festival. I mean, Kim had a six-week-old baby, for God’s sake, I know how hard—”

“Come on.” Raco put his palm on her back. “Don’t.”

“I know, but I keep coming back to that moment early on, at the toilet block. I had the chance to catch her then and I still didn’t bother.” Rita looked to Falk for support. “You remember?”

“Yeah, Rita, I do, but—” It was clear from her guilt that they recalled the incident differently.

They hadn’t been at the festival long, and the opening-night crowd was continuing to grow as twilight drew in. Falk had been standing with Rita, watching Raco and Eva on the carousel, when Rita had leaned into the stroller, sniffed, and said, “We need a toilet stop.”