Did she expect him to come up with a clue no one else had seen? “It might take me a while to read it.”
“It’s amazing. She sailed from England on a convict ship and she’d only just met and married her awful husband. Spoiler alert, he dies and one of the convicts takes his identity because they’re in love.” Lara clasped her hands together, her eyes shining.
Arthur vaguely remembered Sam talking about it when Arthur had been in hospital, but he hadn’t been interested in the rest of the world. “Sounds exciting.”
Lara nodded and tapped the document. “You should read the whole thing. The clues are at the end though, because they don’t find the treasure until they get here.”
Intrigue filled him. His favourite stories as a kid were mysteries. He’d read under the covers by torchlight until the early hours of the morning to find out what happened. At least he did when his father wasn’t home. That kind of diversion from routine wasn’t acceptable to the major—bedtime had to be strictly adhered to.
He began reading and was caught up in the tale of a woman who was moving to a strange land with a husband she barely knew and who made no efforts to form a bond with her. She was a trophy, as far as Arthur could tell.
He was so caught up in the story, he barely noticed Brandon place a mug of tea on the coffee table for him. He grunted a thanks and kept reading.
By the time he was finished, he was cheering for Lilian and her convict lover. He placed the manuscript on the table and glanced around. Lara wasn’t next to him anymore and the lounge room was empty. He checked the time. Nine o’clock. Where was everyone?
His skin tightened as he got to his feet, placing the manuscript on the coffee table and wandering down the hallway.
His footsteps slowed as the wall of photos caught his attention. Each child had the same photos; birth, first day of school, graduation and then next to Brandon’s was also a wedding photo of him and Amy. They both looked so incredibly happy.
Guilt stabbed him. He should have been here, should have walked his sister down the aisle or something. If he’d been here, he wouldn’t have lost his leg. Was it punishment for being such a shit brother?
He never should have listened to his father. Should have trusted his team mates instead. Then none of this would have happened.
The wall was such a celebration of life and family. The major wouldn’t have stood for such sentimentality or haphazardness. Their house had only standard photo frames, all white, with posed photos in them.
Why had his mother stayed with his father?
The question made him step back, away from the wall. He’d never considered it, had always thought the major was master of their domain and everyone had to follow his rule. As he grew older, he tried to take on the role whenever his father went away, but it was always difficult to get Amy and his mother to do what he said. And if he was honest with himself, he enjoyed the stuff they did when the major was gone—movie nights, trips to the water parks, picnics in the country. But then the major would come home, and Arthur would disappoint him by forgetting everything he’d been taught, and not being disciplined enough.
A scrape of a chair brought his attention back to the present. Taking a deep breath, he continued to the kitchen where Amy, Brandon and Sam were seated. Perhaps the others had already gone to bed. Sam had mentioned they were early risers at the Ridge.
Amy smiled at him. “Are you finished?”
He nodded.
“What did you think?” Sam asked.
“Fascinating story.”
Brandon sipped his tea. “Anything that seems like a clue?”
“Just that line about food, water and shelter colliding.”
Amy nodded. “We’ve looked everywhere, but the landscape would have changed over the past hundred and fifty years.”
Excitement stirred at the thought of unlocking the clues and finding the treasure. It was something he needed his brain for. His leg didn’t matter. “Have you got notes on where you’ve looked?”
Amy rolled her eyes. “The major was my father as well. Of course, I’ve got meticulous notes. I’ll email them to you.”
He jolted. Amy had always seemed more carefree as a kid. She hadn’t let the major’s strictness stop her from doing what she wanted, though she usually waited until he was away. “Thanks.”
Brandon shook his head. “I sometimes forget you two are related to him. You’re nothing like him.”
Arthur stared at his friend, shock coursing through him. “You don’t think so?” He’d tried his very best to be everything the major wanted him to be.
“Hell no. You’re a marshmallow wearing kevlar, and Ames…” He took his wife’s hand and kissed it… “is sunshine and warmth.”
When had Brandon got all poetic? “Marshmallow?”
