Amy finished putting taco shells and tortillas on the table and then took a seat at the opposite end to him.
“Dig in!” Lara cried and helped herself to a taco shell.
Dinner reminded Arthur of his days as a young recruit, sitting around the mess hall tables with people talking across the table at each other. Noise and laughter, camaraderie. If he allowed himself to think back even further, it was reminiscent of before he joined the army, when the major was away on a mission and it was just his mum, Amy, and him sitting around the table talking about their day. There’d been a lot of laughter, arguments and noise then. When the major was back, dinner had been a silent affair, as if talking messed with digestion somehow.
Though Arthur said nothing, he enjoyed listening. The banter and love was so strong it was difficult to feel resentful about it. Not when this was the family Amy had finally found. She deserved happiness.
He put together a taco and as he crunched into the hard corn shell, it took him straight back to his youth. Tacos had been his mother’s go-to meal for something quick and easy when she didn’t feel like cooking and they were his favourite meal. She had made them chop the vegetables and grate the cheese while she cooked the beef, and then they’d all sat down to what was always a messy meal. He swallowed hard. How could he have forgotten?
“Everything all right?” Faith murmured next to him.
He sat holding the taco shell in front of him, staring at nothing. With a jerk, he nodded and took a second bite. Was it a coincidence, or had Amy remembered?
Amy chatted with Georgie at the other end of the table. She looked settled. The Stokes had been more family to her than he had been. How could he ever make it up to her?
“Faith, Arthur promised to help at the pony club sleepover.” Lara’s announcement silenced the table.
Arthur fought the urge to squirm as all eyes turned to him.
“Brave man.” Matt raised his glass. “I remember what we were like as kids. It’ll take some wrangling to keep them all together.”
Faith made a shooing motion at him. “Ignore Matt. The kids are lovely and mostly well-behaved, but I’d appreciate another helper.”
Sam and Brandon just smirked at him. Bastards. Had they set him up?
If they had, he couldn’t help but admire their work. He hadn’t suspected a thing. “I don’t know how to ride.”
“That’s fine,” Faith said. “The horses will follow each other and all I need is another pair of eyes to make sure they don’t go in different directions.”
“The kids?” he asked.
“Yeah, they might go off trail if they see something interesting.”
Great. But he’d figure it out. How hard could it be?
He caught Amy watching him but couldn’t read her expression. Was she impressed, annoyed, nonplussed? Before he could figure it out, Lara spoke again.
“Have you shown him the journal yet, Sam?”
“Not yet. I’ve been meaning to.”
She had to be talking about Brandon’s ancestor’s journal. The ancestor who had been shipwrecked off the coast in the late eighteen hundreds and had discovered another wreck full of treasure. Lilian had buried her portion of the treasure for later if the family needed it.
“We should show him now.” Lara pushed back her chair, but Darcy stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Wait until we’ve finished dinner.”
She pouted but sat back down.
Arthur loved her enthusiasm. She was so full of life, something that had been missing from his soulless hospital room for so many months. She was like a natural painkiller, helping his pain fade into the background.
After dinner, he stood to help with the dishes, but Lara grabbed his hand. “Come on. You have to read the journal.”
He glanced over at Sam, who grinned and nodded, and so he followed Lara down a hallway full of family photos. He didn’t have a chance to look as Lara tugged him forward. “This way.” She pulled him into a lounge room where the couches sagged with age but looked as if you could settle in for a night and not want to move.
Had he ever let himself do that?
On the coffee table were photocopies of two journals. Lara pushed him onto a couch and handed him one. “This is Lilian’s. She was my great, great, great whatever grandmother.” She climbed next to him and sat on her shins, watching him with excitement.
