The Ripple Effect Part 15

"Is that all right?"

"Sure it is. It's wonderful." He was laughing as he spoke and Joelle laughed too at the happiness in the sound. "What sort of time were you thinking of coming?"

"In about fifteen minutes. Unless I get lost."

"You're here already?"

"Yes. I couldn't sleep last night. I got up at about five thirty. Then I decided I wanted-needed-to talk to you. Now that I'm sort of used to the idea of having...you. Having a brother, a real one."

"I'll put the coffee on. Do you like coffee or tea for breakfast? There's a bakery down the street-rolls and croissants for breakfast. I've got home made fig jam and lemon marmalade. Mum made it. Or we could go out somewhere. There are plenty of places around here."

Joelle couldn't stop smiling with delight at his delight evidenced by the torrent of excited words. It made her warm all over just from the sound of his voice. "I don't mind. Anything. I just want to be with you. Whatever you like."

"I'd better get myself organised. Out of bed. See you soon, Joelle."

"See you soon, Shay."

He lived in a terrace house just off the main street of Glebe. There was a pub on the corner opposite with an empty parking area-fortunately, because the narrow street was lined with residents' cars and signs forbidding unlicensed parking. Joelle locked the Beetle and walked diagonally across and down the road to number fourteen. Painted cream with forest green window frames and door, neat brick path across a tiny garden of ferns and begonias. Upstairs balcony with a beautiful iron lacework railing painted black.

The front door opened before she'd closed the little green painted wrought iron gate.

"Hi," he said.

"h.e.l.lo." Joelle stopped and stared up at him standing above her on the front step, freshly shaven, in t-s.h.i.+rt and jeans, barefooted, with that heartbreaking smile. His hair was damp from his shower. Her heart thudded so hard she was amazed he didn't comment on the dull pounding. She swallowed. He was her brother; she must remember he was her brother. But how did she turn off that incredible rush of attraction whenever she laid eyes on him. What Mel said was absolutely true-what if they'd never discovered the relations.h.i.+p and been free to explore what she was convinced he had initially felt just as strongly?

"Is it okay for me to park over there at the pub?" she blurted for want of anything more sensible to say and because the silence and his scrutiny were far too uncomfortable.

"Yes. This early no-one will care." He stepped aside and extended his arm. "Come in."

Joelle stepped up beside him. He was in the doorway so she'd have to squeeze by. A fresh smell of soap, Shay and clean washed cotton made her pause and breathe deeply. He bent to brush his lips across her cheek as she hesitated. "I'm so glad you came," he murmured. Heat rushed to her face as she remembered that other kiss on her parents' doorstep. Would she ever live that down? Would he ever comment on it? Tease her like a brother? Could they ever be as comfortable as she and Bridge and Mel were?

The front door opened into the living room. Steep, narrow stairs went up to a second floor. Shay led the way through to the kitchen. Gla.s.s doors opened onto a brick terrace and a narrow back yard with a wooden table and two benches on a strip of sunlit gra.s.s under a solitary tree.

"I thought we could sit outside," he said. "But I haven't been to the bakery yet. We can walk around now if you like."

Joelle nodded. She didn't care. She wanted to watch him, see how he moved, how he spoke, what he wore, the colours he liked, the books he read, the music he listened to, the way he decorated his house, the way he ate and the flavours and food he liked to eat. Look for similarities to her own tastes.

"I want to discover everything about you," she said suddenly.

Shay closed the side door and locked it. "Yes." He turned to face her. "I've dreamt about finding you my whole life. I can hardly believe I've finally done it. I want to know all about you too."

"There's not much about me," said Joelle. "I haven't led a very interesting life."

Shay slipped his bare feet into a pair of cotton kung fu slippers.

"I think you're fascinating," he said with a smile. "Come on. Let's see if we like the same things at the bakery."

Joelle walked beside Shay and cast little sidelong glances at him until he caught her with a quick glance of his own. They both laughed and he said, shaking his head, "I can't believe it."

"No, neither can I," returned Joelle with an unconscious emphasis that made Shay stop walking and turn to her, his forehead creased with concern.

"It must have been an awful shock. I'm sorry it turned out that way but I had no idea your parents hadn't told you."

Joelle sighed. "It's not your fault. It's theirs." She started walking. "Shay, I don't want to think about them right now. I'm too angry with them. And disappointed." She clamped her lips firmly together to prevent them shaking. They weren't her parents. They were William and Natalie. The traitors.

Shay walked beside her silently. They rounded the corner into the main street. Hardly anyone was abroad but the bakery was open with its array of fragrant, fresh baked croissants, Danish pastries, breads, cakes, buns, slices.

"Yum," murmured Joelle. She was hungry, suddenly, starving with just that early cup of tea lining her stomach.

"Croissants?" suggested Shay.

"Yes please and an apricot Danish."

"Four croissants, please and two apricot Danishes." Shay gave the order and smiled at Joelle. "I like apricot, too. My treat," he added as Joelle began opening her purse for coins "Thanks. I'll buy you lunch then. That's if you don't have plans," Joelle added quickly and grimaced. "I'm sorry I just arrived on your doorstep. I didn't even think you might be going somewhere today."

Shay handed over the money and took the white paper bag of pastries from the a.s.sistant. "Thanks". He turned to Joelle. "I was going to spend the day sending letters off to Graysons. Or, at least addressing envelopes. I'll have to do copies at the surgery tomorrow."

They began retracing their steps.

"Graysons where?"

"In Toowoomba and Brisbane. Plus Sydney, I thought."

"Do you think we have relatives?" The ramifications of her history hadn't completely sunk in. Another Gran, a grandfather, other aunts and uncles, different cousins? Joelle swallowed. Strangers.

"Sure to, somewhere."

"But wouldn't they have found them before? When I was born?"

"Not necessarily. People move and change their names and lose touch with each other. Sometimes deliberately."

"Go overseas too, I suppose," added Joelle. New relatives, adding to the family not replacing. Gran and the rest weren't to blame for William and Natalie's mistake. But they'd kept the secret and they must have known. They must have.

"Yes."

"I want to go to j.a.pan," she said. Suddenly it seemed right, possible, even desirable. The sooner the dream became a reality the better. She could leave the nightmare behind. But what about Shay?

"That's right, you told me. There's no reason why you won't one day."

Joelle smiled. "No." One day.

"Can you speak j.a.panese?"

"Yes. I took it at school."

"I'm hopeless at languages," said Shay.

"You must have been good at science."

"I was." So many things they didn't know about each other.

Back at number fourteen, Shay made plunger coffee while Joelle arranged their purchases on a blue patterned dinner plate. Everything about his little house delighted her. Compared to her own clean, sleek, modern apartment this one room wide terrace reeked with charm. She loved the way the floorboards creaked in the tiny hallway when someone walked there, the steep staircase to the bedrooms with its awkward corner half way up, the coloured lead light gla.s.s panels in the arched front windows.

It was cosy and intimate, filled with Shay and his possessions. CDs neatly arranged in a cabinet. Books not so neatly lined a long bookshelf, two large tomes, probably medical references lying open on the table next to the newspaper and a pile of opened mail. One of the lovely and distinctive Margaret Preston wildflower prints fitted perfectly over the fireplace. A bamboo flute with red ta.s.sels hung over the doorway to the kitchen. A comfortable looking couch covered in black fabric and strewn with cus.h.i.+ons in jewel colours took up most of the living room. A pair of his shoes lay on the floor together with two navy socks.

Joelle, under Shay's instructions loaded a tray with cutlery, plates and cups for two and took it outside to the table in the sun. Shay followed with the plunger pot and a jug of milk.

"Sugar?" she asked.

"In the cupboard over the sink," he said. "Sorry, I don't use it so I didn't think."

When Joelle returned Shay had poured the coffee and was waiting for her.

"That's one of the things we'll learn about each other," he remarked.

"Sometimes separated siblings meet after years and years and discover they wear the same colour clothes and eat the same food and everything." Joelle took a croissant and broke a piece off to eat. It was still warm from the bakery and made her fingers slippery with b.u.t.ter.

"Try some of Mum's jam." Shay pushed the jar towards her.

"I don't think I've ever had fig jam," she said. She spooned some onto her plate. It had big chunks of fruit and was a greyish green colour, which wasn't appealing at all. Raw figs had a pink, moist suggestiveness...

"Those people are usually twins," said Shay. "The ones who do the same things." He took a danish and ate a third in one mouthful.

"Are they?" Joelle spread some of the jam on another piece of croissant. It was very sweet but surprisingly tasty. Shay was watching her eat, she knew. She smiled and deliberately put more on the next mouthful.

"Good?"

"Mmm." Her mouth was full of rich sweetness. Sinfully fattening but delicious. A treat with her new brother.

"You know we may not have the same father," said Shay slowly. He placed the remains of the Danish on his plate and licked his index finger and thumb. "And we might not ever find either of them."

Hypnotised, her eyes watched sticky fingers slide in and out between full, moist lips. He wiped his hands on a paper serviette.

Joelle blinked, concentrated, said, "If there are two. Emily was very young, wasn't she? Especially when she had you. I wonder what sort of girl she was." The obvious answer was not pleasant. A junkie? A girl who sold her body for drugs and ended up with extra responsibilities she couldn't hope to cope with?

"And what made her run away from home in the first place. That's one of the things we might find out if we can find someone who knew her. I've tried googling her but all I can find is an American author and some other people who are obviously not our mother-born in 1845 or whatever."

"Ads!" cried Joelle. "We should put ads in the cla.s.sifieds in all the major papers. I see them all the time-you know-*anyone knowing the whereabouts of'. We might get an answer from a non-family member-a school friend or a neighbour or someone."

"Good idea. We can do that today." He grinned into her eyes and made her absurdly happy.

Joelle poured them both more coffee. Her brother. Shay was her brother.

"What sort of music do you like?" she asked.

"Country mainly. But now I like cla.s.sical too. I had a girlfriend who was studying violin at the conservatorium and she made me go to concerts with her. I discovered Bach, Vivaldi and Handel through her. What about you?"

Joelle wrinkled her nose at the mention of country music. The idea of a girlfriend she didn't want to address. He'd used past tense. Leave it.

"My Dad loves Latin American music-tangos and stuff from South America and Cuba. I grew up with it, he plays it at every party, says it makes people dance. Mum's a cla.s.sical nut and they both go to concerts and sometimes to the opera in Sydney so I also grew up hearing that. I like funky dance stuff." Mum and Dad. The terms had slipped out. Shay didn't comment.

"Pretty broad range," he said.

Joelle nodded. "I like just about anything-except country music." She grinned at him.

"Growing up where I did you don't hear much else, especially as Birrigai is fairly close to Tamworth-country music capital of Australia," he added with a broad, tw.a.n.ging American accent.

"I suppose our taste in music comes from nurture versus nature," said Joelle.

"Probably. Favourite food?" asked Shay.

"Fresh fruit," said Joelle promptly. "I love mangoes."

"Me too. What about dinner type food? I can't go past a good steak."

"Seafood," said Joelle.

"Not keen on lobster and sh.e.l.lfish," said Shay, "but I like fish."

"Oysters. Yum," said Joelle. "That's probably because we can get them so fresh and you wouldn't in Birrigai."

Shay laughed. "I doubt whether Beryl at the pub would have even seen a lobster. She used to have fish fingers on the menu. Fresh from the deep freeze. The pub had the only restaurant when I was growing up. There's a cafe in town now."

"Did you like growing up in Birrigai?" asked Joelle.

"Loved it," said Shay. "We were free as can be. We raced around on our bikes till it got too dark to see, swam in the river, rode horses, played footie and cricket, climbed trees. Broke our arms and legs, fought each other. It was great."

"Sounds fantastic," said Joelle. "Especially the last bit."

Shay chuckled. "I was ready to leave though. We had to go to high school in Tamworth and I learned about all sorts of things I never knew existed. Then I came to University in Sydney."

"So you're here to stay now? In the city?"

"Not really. I've always had in the back of my mind that our mother died because there weren't the facilities to cope with her complications. Country areas are desperately short of doctors. I'm needed out there."

Joelle nodded. "So you'll be leaving." Disappointment fogged her throat.

Shay leaned across and grasped her hand. "But we'll still be together. We're family. Anyway, I'm here for the rest of the year. I need the experience."

Joelle clutched his hand. The rest of the year? A matter of months and then this wonderful man would disappear. Birrigai was hundreds of kilometres away. Too far for regular visits. She wanted to see him every day. She wanted to drink him in and absorb every part of him so that she knew him as well as she knew herself. They had twenty seven years to fill in. His fingers were warm in hers and she couldn't release her grip on him. She'd only just found him.

"Don't cry, Joelle," he murmured and she realised tears had begun running down her cheeks. "We'll always be in touch now. For the rest of our lives. We're inseparable."

He moved to sit beside her on the bench and then his arms were around her and he held her close. Like a lover.

But he wasn't her lover. He could never be to her what she craved. Even to think along those lines was wrong and unnatural. Abhorrent even. Joelle rested her head on his shoulder and he sat with his arms around her, holding her like a brother.