The Secret Path by Karen Swan (summer beach reads TXT) 📕

Jed used to take me and Miles into the forest for overnight trips when we were little. He taught us what to look out for, all the things not to do.’

‘Sounds like fun.’

‘It was. Our times out here were the best we ever had,’ she said flatly; she didn’t like agreeing with him.

‘That makes it even more of a shame, then, that you haven’t come out in so long.’

‘How do you know I haven’t?’ Her voice was arch.

But she knew he knew. He looked at her and away again, their shared past and what he’d done forever sitting between them. It was there in every conversation, every look. He cleared his throat.

Something overhead, hidden in the shadows, made a sudden movement, sending down a shower of leaves and seeds. She watched Alex catch sight of whatever it was, his eyes narrowing as he tracked it with a keen eye along the branch. He caught her staring and shrugged his eyebrows. ‘Capuchin.’ His eyes fell to the gold chain around her neck; it had a clear glass locket and a single ruby inside it – a gift from Rory on their first anniversary. ‘Be careful, they like shiny things,’ he said with an even stare, as though he knew that too.

She watched as he took the pan off the heat and carefully ladled the rice from the water. Two enamel cups were passing as their bowls and he filled them, handing her one. There was no cutlery.

‘I don’t understand how you have time to be out here doing this when the handover is happening in a few days,’ she said in lieu of thanks.

‘I don’t,’ he said, not raising his eyes as he scooped the food with his hands, the way she’d seen the children do in Jed’s village. ‘But it’s an emergency, right? A kid is sick. Who’s gonna put anything above that? If this is the only way to get him help, it has to come first . . .’ He shrugged.

She stared at him with quiet fury. So there was something, then, that he put before his ambitions? There was some sort of moral code he lived by? He could deceive and seduce her in order to get the introduction he needed, but he wasn’t so calculating as to put his career before a dying child? He wasn’t that bad?

He didn’t seem to notice her contemptuous stare. He seemed to be enjoying his meal, in fact, and she stared down at the cup of dinner. She began eating with her fingers, tentatively at first, but it tasted so good, the starch stinging her tongue as her body realized how depleted it was. She was starving and she hadn’t even realized.

‘Besides, it’s not like organizing a dinner party or something,’ he continued, picking up the conversation as though he hadn’t just eaten a meal between comments. The cup – almost empty – was just inches from his face as he ate. ‘The handover itself is pretty much just a paperwork issue at this stage; the lawyers will be pulling some all-nighters, I guess, but for me it’s all ongoing long-term projects that are going to continue next week, regardless of who owns the land.’

She chased a bean with her finger. ‘. . . Like what?’ she asked in her most bored voice.

He glanced up at her. ‘Like right here.’ He jerked his head around, his gaze scanning the towering giants that loomed above them, interlocking fingers and creating intricate aerial playgrounds for the animals that lived within their reaches. ‘These trees are only nine years old.’

She stopped eating. ‘What?’

‘Yeah. Found a guy out here cutting down the trees and planting coffee bushes everywhere. We kicked him out, rewilded the place.’

‘But they look . . . ancient,’ she mumbled, looking around them both too.

‘I know. It doesn’t take much for things to return to their natural states and thrive again. Nature will always prevail. It’s just a matter of providing the right protections.’ He watched her from across the fire. ‘In the past decade, we’ve reclaimed and reforested over seventy thousand square hectares of land; and in protecting and nurturing those habitats, it’s saved countless species from extinction.’

She heard the pride in his voice. The lack of regret. He was telling her it had been worth it, that he’d do it all again. ‘Well,’ she said after a moment. ‘No wonder my father’s so pleased.’

She stared into the flames, grateful for the dry heat; it was a respite from the rain and humidity that had left her permanently damp all day.

‘Tara . . .’

She looked up to find him staring at her. She could see there were things he wanted to say, apologies perhaps that would make him feel better – I never meant to hurt you – but they wouldn’t change a thing. Because he wouldn’t change a thing. She knew he’d do it all again. What had happened had happened, and flames would always divide them. She looked away, cutting him off with her silence.

‘We’ll wash up in the morning,’ he said finally. He got up and, taking her cup from her, placed both in the pan of starchy water. ‘This’ll keep the bugs at bay till then.’

It was far too dark to go back to the river now and even the white-striped leaves would be hard to locate by torchlight. It might only be half past six, but it may as well have been three in the morning. The day had been gruelling and very, very long. She yawned and stretched, unable to stop herself.

‘We should sleep,’ he said.

‘I won’t argue with that,’ she mumbled, walking over to her hammock and putting on her head torch. She turned it on and looked back at him. ‘Where are the . . . facilities?’

‘About twenty metres over there,’ he winced, almost blinded as her torch beamed straight onto him. He pointed. ‘See that red cord on the bush?’ She looked over and saw a length of red twine tied to a bush, draped over the leaves and extending out of sight. ‘Just follow it along. It’ll