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

Tara put the little girl back down, sending her off with a wink, and sat where she was put in front of the fire, watching as the villagers began to busy themselves with hospitality. She was too tired to object to anything and she gratefully accepted the drink which was placed in her hands; it was a deep amber colour and smelled as potent as brandy.

‘What is this?’ she asked Alex.

‘Aguardiente. Or “burning water”,’ he replied, watching as she began sipping eagerly. ‘Careful, it’s strong stuff.’

She shrugged, feeling grateful for anything that took the edges off her day. It had been one to remember, for all the wrong reasons. The sensation of falling still kept jolting through her as though her mind was stuck on a trauma loop, and her heart ached from disturbing long-held secrets. She noticed Alex wouldn’t quite meet her gaze now either. Their past, which he had tried so hard to pretend could stay in the past, pulsed bloody and raw between them now.

William sat down opposite them, but the teasing quality she had briefly discerned in his eyes on arrival had gone – the revelation that she was a Tremain and no mere eco-tourist appeared to have changed things – and he looked once more like the Village Elder of her stereotypes. ‘Who was it who attacked you?’

She was surprised by his return to the topic. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t see them. It was my friend Jed who was hurt, not me.’

She saw William’s gaze lock with Alex’s. ‘. . . What?’ she asked them both.

‘There’s been a lot of trouble lately, that’s all,’ Alex said with a dismissive tone, still with his eyes down. ‘Certain ranchers and plantation owners don’t want the handover to go ahead, so we’ve been seeing an escalation in . . . problems.’

She remembered the ranch worker’s hostile stare by the truck, the way Jed’s car had been hemmed in, the slashed tyre, almost being run off the road . . . ‘What sort of problems?’

He hesitated. ‘There’s been some thefts, fires, intimidation tactics . . . Petty stuff. But it’s all in hand.’

‘Petty stuff?’ she echoed. ‘Beating a man of Jed’s size into unconsciousness isn’t petty stuff. It’s serious assault, if not attempted murder!’

He lifted his gaze to hers at last. ‘Like I said, we’re dealing with it. They’re just scare tactics. Nothing is going to stop the handover going ahead on Friday.’

But Tara saw a bleakness in his eyes she’d never discerned before and for several moments they stared at one another in a silence that was louder than their words.

William, she noticed, seemed troubled too. She wondered how much he knew and if there was anything he wasn’t saying either. She had a strong suspicion Alex was downplaying the issue.

‘Alex, is there something going on that you’re not telling me?’

‘No.’

‘Has a threat been made?’

‘It’s fine. They’re all talk.’

Wasn’t that exactly what Jed had said? And look at him now! She didn’t blink as she stared back at him. ‘Are they going to do something on Friday?’

‘No!’

But he had answered too quickly, too vehemently. ‘Is it targeted at my father?’

‘Tara, I’ve told you—’

‘You tell lies, Alex! I don’t believe what you tell me,’ she snapped. ‘Is my father in danger?’

He stared back at her, looking shocked and angry. ‘We’ve informed the security teams. Your father’s PPO is aware and we’ve briefed the relevant government offices. I give you my word that nothing is going to happen to him. These people want to make a point and they’re out to make a scene, but there’s no way they’ll get anywhere near him. We both know a man like your father is incredibly hard to get close to.’

It was his counter-strike, the verbal slap back. ‘Yes. I’m very aware,’ she said quietly.

He stared back at her for several long seconds, then looked away, the ball of his jaw pulsing rhythmically, words unsaid. But she knew what he wanted to say to her: that in spite of what she’d told him, he could justify what he’d done, that he still fervently believed he’d been right to sacrifice her – them – for the greater good.

Was he right? How many hours had she spent listening to her father over the years, expounding the virtues of his legacy project? It would bring in billions of dollars in eco-tourism, protect the wildlife habitats as well as the Indigenous cultures, promote reforestation, reduce carbon emissions . . . She could list the benefits in her sleep. Her broken heart had been the only fly in the ointment and there were times she had half expected her father to be nominated the patron saint of Costa Rica. So how could it be that he was now under personal threat, and their friends and staff were being attacked?

An eruption of dirty laughter, a universal sound whatever the language, made her look over. The women were bustling about, preparing the food – peeling, chopping, slicing, glancing over surreptitiously in the direction of their unexpected guests every so often, some of them giggling with their heads together. She wondered whether she was the butt of their jokes as curious eyes crept upon her.

The woman came back into the building and walked straight over to William. She opened her hands to reveal the bundle she was carrying – a large bunch of freshly picked leaves, now wrapped in soaked muslin. Alex looked on with bright eyes, glancing over at her with an intense look. So this was the great cure they had come searching for?

‘Good,’ William nodded, examining the leaves carefully, picking up a few and sniffing them deeply. He glanced at her, seeing how she watched him. ‘They must be picked at dusk, when the sap is falling.’

‘Ah yes, dusk,’ she replied politely, remembering the Awa’s instructions as they had left Jed’s village. She had almost lost her own life trying to get these herbs, in the full knowledge they would be as effective against hepatitis as drinking lemon juice or only bathing on days with an easterly