Sydney, Australia
Nicholas Barrington sat behind his desk on the forty-fifth floor of
the tower bearing his family’s name and removed his pre-prepared meal from his
lunch bag. Below, Sydney Harbour shimmered in the midday sun and looked
spectacular. A small tugboat, looking much like a toy from this height, guided
a large cruise ship through the harbour towards the heads, while a number of
yachts sliced through the water easily in what Nick assumed was a strong
breeze, given the trim of their sails. The problem was, being on the
forty-fifth floor, he was removed from reality. The view was sensational, but
he felt like a spectator. He’d much rather be a participant.
A firm knock sounded on his office door, pulling his gaze from the
vista. Nicholas swivelled around. Alden, his brother and fellow director,
sauntered in and sunk into the chair on the opposite side of the desk. “Taking
time for lunch today, bro?” At thirty-one, Alden was two years younger than
Nicholas and had the same sea-blue eyes, although his hair was lighter.
“Yes. I was just about to eat. Did you bring yours?” For a moment,
Nicholas forgot he was talking with his brother. Of course Alden hadn’t brought
his lunch.
Alden scoffed, eyeing Nicholas’s bag with amusement. “It’ll be here in
five minutes.”
Nicholas pulled out his sandwich and salad, glad he didn’t have to
wait for his meal to be delivered.
“Eating in here today?” Charity, their younger sister, appeared in the
doorway. The sharp bob framing her pixie-like face was the same dark colour as his,
but she had their late mother’s emerald green eyes. She plopped onto the chair
next to Alden and pulled a portable blender filled with green powder from her
carry bag. Opening a bottle of water, she poured half of it in and hit the
button.
“That looks disgusting,” Nicholas shouted over the whir of the
machine.
“Try some if you like.”
Grimacing, he quickly shook his head. “No thanks. I’ll stick to my
sandwich.”
Moments later, a young man knocked tentatively on the door holding a
rectangular food box. Alden waved him in and took the box.
Setting it on the desk, he peeled back the cardboard lid, revealing a
large steak with new potatoes and green beans. Although it smelled appetising,
as Nicholas took the last bite of his sandwich and moved onto the salad, he was
thankful his tastes weren’t the same as his siblings. He was a simple man with
simple needs.
“It’s all right, but it could be better,” Alden commented after
swallowing his first mouthful.
Nicholas ignored his brother’s comment and instead focused on Charity
who’d just turned the blender off. The silence was very welcome.
“So, you know I was meant to be flying to Bali tomorrow for that
meditation retreat?” Angling her head, she glanced at him as she poured some of
the green concoction into a glass.
He nodded. Of late, Charity had been delving into meditation and
something about self-praise and how to be her own deity. Not what Nicholas
would have considered a worthwhile venture, but, each to his own. He’d started
exploring things of a spiritual nature as well, but his initial explorations
had led him to a traditional church, although he hadn’t yet made up his mind whether
that was what he wanted.
“Looks like I’ll have to postpone the flight to another day.” Charity
released a frustrated sigh before taking a mouthful of what Nicholas considered
a disgusting looking green concoction.
“Why’s that?”
“Why?” Charity’s green eyes bulged. “Because of that lazy pilot.” Her
voice rose to a crescendo and Nicholas wouldn’t have been surprised if the
whole floor had heard.
“Ugh, don’t even get me started.” Alden shook his head, waving a fork
in the air.
Charity leaned forward. “Can you believe he told me he can’t work
tomorrow? I mean, I’m his boss. It’s not like we’re ordering him to fly every
day. He gets plenty of time off. I just needed him for one day.”
“Why can’t he take you?” Nicholas asked in a calm voice.
“His daughter’s having surgery. I get that family is important and all
that, but honestly, it’s only a few hours each way. He’d be back before she
even woke up.”
Nicholas studied his sister with sadness. He doubted she knew that
Roger’s small daughter had been born with special needs and her surgeries
required extensive preparation. Even the anesthesia was a risk. But it was no
use saying anything. She wouldn’t understand or care. “Did he suggest anyone
else who could step in?”
“I don’t want anyone else. They wouldn’t know our plane like he does.”
Charity blew out another breath and sipped her concoction. “Anyway, I think we
should fire him.” Shifting in her chair, she crossed her long, slim legs and
adjusted her skirt.
“I agree,” Alden said. “Last time he took me to Dubai, we were an hour
late. He said it was because they didn’t have a place for us to land, but isn’t
it his job to make sure all of that’s figured out ahead of time?”
Nicholas sighed. “That’s hardly his fault. Sometimes unexpected things
happen that are out of anyone’s control. You know Roger’s competent and he
always does his best.”
“You’re so naive, big brother. You always want to see the good in
everybody. No wonder they take advantage of you.” Alden gave him a withering
look.
Nicholas pursed his lips. He wished his siblings could show a little
more humility and understanding, especially since they’d been given so much.
How could they be so cruel and selfish when it came to others?
Taking a sip from his water bottle, Nicholas shut out his siblings as
they continued talking about things he couldn’t relate to. Although the three
were very different, it saddened him they weren’t closer. Without any other
family, they only had each other. But all they ever talked about was the
business and what gave them pleasure, like Charity’s Bali trip. Beyond that,
very little of depth ever entered their conversations. While the two continued
to talk about things of no interest to him, Nicholas returned to his work, but
his ears pricked when Alden mentioned their late grandfather, James Barrington.
“You know, old James wouldn’t have liked us wasting the money on a
lousy staffer. Just because a man’s nice enough doesn’t make him worth the
money.” It seemed they’d returned to the issue of whether to fire Roger or not.
Nicholas groaned. From what he remembered of James Barrington, firing a man
because of an important family issue would have been the last thing he would
have done.
When he died, the three siblings had inherited their grandfather’s
fortune, amassed during the mining boom of the eighties. A billion for each,
plus the company divided between them. Now the trio lacked for nothing, but as
much as Nicholas appreciated the life he now had, he would much have preferred
his grandfather, and his parents, to still be alive. How different things would
have been if his parents had inherited instead of the three grandchildren.
He sighed sadly. Yes, he’d give just about anything to have his
parents back. It didn’t seem fair that their lives
had been snuffed out while they were still in their prime.
“So, do you think we should fire him? After he takes me to Bali, of
course?” Charity asked nonchalantly, inspecting her perfectly manicured nails.
“Don’t be a fool,” Alden said harshly.
For a moment, Nicholas held hopes that his brother might stick up for
the man, but they were soon dashed when Alden continued. “You should probably
wait until he brings you back from Bali. You don’t want to be stuck there!” He
laughed, and Charity joined in.
Nicholas seethed. He had to say something, but he needed to remain
calm and rational. An emotional defense of the pilot wouldn’t go over well with
his siblings. “Why don’t we give him another chance? His daughter is having
surgery, it’s hardly a time to be selfish.”
Charity huffed with exasperation. “Whatever you say, big brother.
Although I don’t see how it affects you, since you never use the private jet,
anyway.” Her voice dripped with sarcasm.
Biting his lip, Nicholas brushed her comments and attitude off. They’d
soon forget about the pilot and move on to a discussion about shoes or
something as equally trivial.
“Well, I’m headed out. I’ve got a hot yoga class this afternoon.”
Charity stood, tossed her rubbish in the bin, and then picked up her blender.
“Don’t you need more than that shake before working out?” Alden waved
the last piece of steak on his fork as if he were teasing her with it.
She rolled her eyes. “Keep your cow, thanks.” With that, she turned
and left the room, teetering on her stilettos.
Alden mopped up the last of his gravy, said a brief goodbye to
Nicholas, and then also left the office.
Leaning back in his chair, Nicholas released a slow breath and gazed
out the window. The cruise ship was long gone, but a Manly ferry was
approaching Circular Quay, leaving white frothy water in its wake.
As much as he loved his siblings, he also loved his peace and quiet.
He sometimes wondered about their grandfather and whether he’d be pleased with
how his grandchildren were handling his fortune. James Barrington was renowned
for his kindness, a rarity in the ruthless mining industry, and Nicholas wished
he’d gotten to know him better before he passed. He sensed he could have
learned a lot from him, and not just about the business. He’d heard that James
Barrington was a religious man. Another rarity in the industry.
Swivelling his chair all the way around, Nicholas set back to work,
tapping his fingers on the keyboard, opening emails from clients, studying
spreadsheets. Millions of dollars in transactions and exchanges occurred on a
weekly basis and the company was doing well, but as Managing Director, he
needed to stay on top of it.
Their clients were happy, and he had reason to be proud of the company
that he and his siblings had maintained and grown since taking over almost ten
years ago. To the world at large, they were a success.
But sometimes, in the still of night, when he had time to think, he
pondered what success really was. What was he missing by spending all his days
on the forty-fifth floor?
Chapter 2
Making her way to the teacher’s lounge, Phoebe Halliday smiled and
greeted all those she passed. No matter how she felt inside, no matter what
thoughts passed through her mind each day, she outwardly remained positive,
energised, and grateful. Nobody wanted to see a sad face.
She sat at the table she usually shared with her friend, Johanna, the
other kindergarten teacher who also doubled as the music teacher. People often
confused the two since they both had similar medium-brown hair and light eyes,
although Phoebe’s were more of a grey-blue than Johanna’s hazel ones.
Opening her bag, she pulled out a plastic container filled with
leftovers from the previous night’s dinner. Sensing someone approaching, she
glanced up and was surprised to see Mrs. Jamison, the school counsellor, and
not Johanna, hovering beside the table.
Mrs. Jamison, friendly and grey-haired, was always on the lookout for
someone in need of care. Although she had great respect for the woman, Phoebe
groaned inwardly. She didn’t want to be the subject of her caring attention
right now.
“Hi, Phoebe.” Mrs. Jamison smiled. “Do you mind if I sit here?”
Phoebe returned her smile. Despite how she was feeling, she couldn’t
be rude. “Not at all. Please feel free.”
As Mrs. Jamison sat next to her, Phoebe sensed that this might be more
than just a friendly visit.
“I’m taking an early lunch because I’m watching my grandson’s football
game this afternoon,” Mrs. Jamison explained, unwrapping her chicken and salad
sandwich.
“Oh, that sounds nice.” Phoebe opened her lunch box and wished she’d
made a sandwich instead of bringing leftover pasta.
“Yes. I don’t get to watch often.” Pausing, she turned and faced
Phoebe. “So, how are you doing?”
Phoebe winced. This was the exact question she’d been dreading. It was
the last thing she wanted to discuss, and Mrs. Jamison would be very aware of
that. “Oh, you know,” she replied with a fake smile as she twiddled her fork.
“I may know a lot about human behaviour, Phoebe, but that doesn’t mean
I know what’s going on inside your head.” Her eyes were filled with kindness.
“If you ever need to talk to anyone, you know I’m here, don’t you?” Mrs.
Jamison patted her arm lightly.
Suddenly losing her appetite, Phoebe set her fork down and stared at
her nails. Could she tell Mrs. Jamison what she was really thinking or feeling?
Could she tell her about the grief that still weighed her down daily? Would she
understand?
Phoebe wasn’t the first person to lose a fiancé, but that didn’t make
handling it any easier. It didn’t stop her from feeling alone. It didn’t stop
her from wondering why God had allowed her to lose Reed, just weeks before
their wedding. She tried so hard to trust Him, and she knew that God loved her,
but nevertheless, she struggled to understand. “Thank you,” she replied softly.
“It’s been hard to find anyone to talk with who really understands.”
Mrs. Jamison nodded, her eyes full of compassion. Most people didn’t
know what to say, and simply offered their condolences, but they had no idea of
the extent of the grief she still felt. Phoebe didn’t blame them. How could
they know if they hadn’t lost someone special?
She took a deep breath. “Trying to explain how I felt after Reed
passed away has seemed impossible, as if all of the words I had died with him.”
“Grief does that sometimes,” Mrs. Jamison said. “It’s easier to keep
it bottled than try to explain it.”
“Yes,” Phoebe replied. “I don’t think I’ve truly accepted that Reed
will never be my husband. All those years of loving him and planning our future
together, they mean nothing anymore.” Tears welled in her eyes.
“It takes time, Phoebe, and it’s okay to grieve. But it’s also good to
talk about it,” Mrs. Jamison said softly, passing her a tissue.
Phoebe nodded and dabbed her eyes. “I don’t know what I’m mourning
most. The Reed I miss, or the Reed Fisher I dreamed of as my husband. We should
have been married by now.”
“I understand. It seems that all of your dreams died with him.”
Phoebe nodded. That was exactly it.
“But I’m proud of you, Phoebe. The way you’ve handled yourself has
been an example to all. But you don’t need to pretend you’re strong if you’re
not. It really is okay to show that you’re grieving. People will understand.”
Phoebe smiled weakly as memories of that day flooded back, three weeks
before their wedding, when she got the phone call that changed her life. She
recalled the dread that filled her when she heard that Reed was in critical
condition. She couldn’t believe it was him. They’d gotten it wrong and it was
someone else. It couldn’t be him.
But it was. And he didn’t make it. Her fiancé, the one she’d planned
to spend the rest of her life with, was dead.
She burst into tears as the all familiar ache tore through her heart
once again. Mrs. Jamison shifted closer and embraced her while she wept against
the older woman’s chest.
After she calmed, Mrs. Jamison suggested she take the rest of the day
off, but Phoebe said no, she was fine. It was better to be at school with her
class of five-year-olds than to be at home, moping.
“That’s exactly the attitude I was talking about, Phoebe. You’re doing
so well, but if you need time off, make sure you take it. Okay?”
Phoebe nodded, but doubted she would.
She’d made plans to meet up with her closest friend, Holly Mathison,
later that afternoon. After the emotionally draining day, she was tempted to
cancel, but in the end, decided to go.
Arriving first at Aroma,
their favourite coffee shop, she chose a booth. Holly arrived a few minutes
late, which didn’t surprise Phoebe at all since Holly was always late for
everything. Phoebe raised her hand and waved her over, standing to give her
friend a hug.
Tall and curvy with fair skin, blue eyes and straight
sandy hair, Holly was Phoebe’s complete opposite. Being petite, Phoebe had to
stretch up on her toes to hug her friend.
“Sorry I’m late,” Holly said, wincing as she slid into the booth
opposite Phoebe.
Phoebe tried not to laugh. “You mean this time, right?”
“Yeah, okay, I know. I’m always late. Funny,” Holly replied with
sarcasm.
“True, but I love you anyway.”
“Good! How are those chicks of yours doing?
Phoebe chuckled as she sipped her water. Every year, she borrowed eggs
from a local farmer and brought them into her classroom. She set them under a
heat lamp, and her class of five-year-olds watched and waited eagerly for the
little chicks to hatch. “They’re doing great. Come and see them before I send
them back to the farmer.”
Holly smiled. “I might just do that.”
The waitress delivered the coffees Phoebe had ordered when she
arrived. Holly stirred a sachet of sugar into hers, and then, wrapping her
hands around the mug, put her elbows on the table and leaned forward. “So,
remember what I was saying about having the travel bug?”
“Yep. I seem to recall you told me that it’s the only infection you’d
ever volunteer for,” Phoebe replied with a laugh.
“Exactly. I’ve been thinking through a few things.” Pausing, Holly
sipped her coffee. “Let me tell you my thoughts, then let me pose a question.”
Phoebe tilted her head. This wasn’t the sort of conversation they
typically had.
“So,” Holly continued, “I’m planning to go travelling for three
months, and I finally decided, due to finances and proximity, to do a
backpacking trip in Southeast Asia.”
“That sounds wonderful.” Phoebe smiled as she imagined her adventurous
friend travelling through the countryside, seeing amazing sights, riding
elephants, visiting temples.
“Yeah, it’s going to be amazing. I’ve already looked into the details
and requirements of visas and shots. I’ll start in Cambodia and stay until I
feel like moving on to the next place. There are some amazing organisations to
volunteer at as well. I’ll be going as a tourist, but I’ve already contacted a
few places about volunteering for a few days or even a week, just helping
wherever I can.”
“That sounds great.” Phoebe tried not to sound jealous.
“Yeah. I’ve already had one orphanage say they’re inundated with
volunteers, and it breaks the kids’ hearts whenever they leave. I don’t want to
be a part of that, but another place has invited me to do a three-day English
tutorial with some of the older kids they work with,” Holly continued.
“Seriously? That’s great. Is it an orphanage as well?” Phoebe asked.
Holly shook her head. “No. They’re mainly girls who’ve been rescued
from brothels they were trafficked into.”
“Oh, gosh.” Phoebe’s hand flew to her mouth. She knew these things
happened, but the thought of it was too horrific to imagine.
“I know. And that leads me to my question.” Pausing, Holly twiddled a
lock of hair and held Phoebe’s gaze.
“Yes…” Somehow, she knew what Holly was about to ask and her heartbeat
quickened.
“You’ve had a rough year, Phoebe.
You’ve suffered pain and trauma—”
“Yes, but nothing like what those girls have gone through,” Phoebe
interjected, unable to move her thoughts past what she’d just heard.
“Maybe, but that doesn’t lessen your pain.” Holly gripped her hand.
“You’ve been making such an effort to be brave and to get through your
suffering, but Phoebe, you need time away.”
Phoebe knew exactly where Holly was going, and she didn’t take much
convincing. Both Mrs. Jamison and Holly were right. She needed some time off.
Drawing a steadying breath, she held Holly’s gaze. “I’m in. When do we leave?”
Holly’s eyes widened. “Just like that? My practical friend is willing
to make a spontaneous decision?”
Phoebe smiled. “I’m more than willing. I’m raring to go. When do we
leave?”
