Framing Fleur

The Bateman Family Tree

Dedication

For those who have not known the love of an earthly father.

May you know the depth of your Heavenly Father’s love,

His patience, His kindness and His delight in you.

Chapter One

D

an Bateman leaned back in Val Terry’s recliner. What was he doing sitting alone, in the dark, on his birthday?

He kept his eyes glued to the television. Not because he was watching, but because he wasn’t. This was the third blackout in four days. What was wrong with this little town? Anyone would think someone deliberately shut down the power each night at eight p.m.

He stood and glanced at the candle on the windowsill. It flickered, dancing from side to side. He sighed. No dancing for him tonight, and definitely no party. One mistake, one broken relationship with his boss’s daughter and here he was, finishing his apprenticeship in a small country town as far away from the city as his boss could send him.

A flash caught his eye. Light. In the house next door. According to Val, the last tenants had left months ago and the house was empty. He pulled aside the curtain and peered through the dark. Definitely a torch being flashed around.

‘Val?’ he called. Nothing.

He stared into the night, straining to see. The light next door had gone.

A loud bang shattered the silence and a squeal reverberated down the hall.

Dan took a hesitant step in the direction of the sound. ‘You okay, Val?’

‘What was that?’ The woman’s shaky voice and footsteps approached until she appeared in the doorway. Both her hands held a candle in front of her large chest, casting an unearthly glow over her wide, frightened eyes. Dan’s mouth twitched at the eerie picture she made.

‘What was that?’ she asked again, and the candle shook in her hands.

He was tempted to fake a scream just for fun but held himself in check. Mostly. ‘Probably just a lightning bolt. It hit a power pole and now it’s travelling through the wires.’ At another bang, he grinned. ‘Now it’s heading toward us and in about two minutes we’ll be consumed by a great ball of electric flame.’

She shook her head and a strand of grey hair fell over her eyes. The light of the candle revealed a stain on her overstretched shirt. ‘Dan! Now you’ve got me nervous.’

Dan laughed. She was always nervous. The complete opposite to his controlled, executive mother. What made a woman so casual about appearance but so up-tight about life itself? There wasn’t even a storm overhead. But he had to admit it was all a bit strange.

He reached for the torch that normally sat on the shelf beside the door. His hand closed around empty air. ‘Val, have you seen the torch?’

‘Jasmine borrowed it.’

Of course she had. Val’s daughter was always popping in and out, borrowing things. But as one of the town’s police officers, he would’ve thought she would be equipped with her own torch.

Dan reached into the pocket of his jeans and took out his phone. He hoped its built-in light was bright enough.

‘You’re not going out there, are you?’

He ignored the tremor in Val’s voice. ‘Yes, I won’t be long. I’ll just check if I can see what’s going on.’

He headed out into the blackness of the night, his feet crunching on the gravel down the drive. Most likely a powerbox. He nodded to himself as the energy van drove down the street. Nothing else seemed unusual. He was disappointed by the lack of drama. Maybe he should create some.

But first, he’d go next door and see if there really was someone there. With an easy jump, he leapt over the fence into the long grass and looked around. A shovel stood against the side of the garden shed. He shone his phone light down the handle and to the ground. Fresh dirt clung to the metal. Someone had been digging. Why?

He crept around the house. A shadow moved. ‘Who’s there?’

No answer.

He didn’t scare easily, especially since he was usually the one doing the scaring, but his heart thumped against his rib cage. It was pitch black with all the house and streetlights off. The thin line of light from his phone didn’t show much.

He held his breath. The shadow moved again. Then a voice came through the darkness. ‘That you, Dan?’

‘Jasmine!’ He breathed a sigh of relief. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘Just checking up on the place. Shirl Sheather said she saw someone hanging around.’

He was relieved to see the familiar, tall figure of Val’s daughter step out of the shadows, shining the missing torch. She wasn’t wearing her police uniform so she obviously wasn’t on duty. ‘I thought I saw a torchlight shining around over here.’

Jasmine nodded, tilting her angular face to study him. ‘That would have been me. There’s no sign that anyone else has been here.’ She stood eye to eye with him, and nodded her head toward the back fence. ‘I think Shirl has an overactive imagination.’

He agreed. Shirl Sheather over the back fence was almost as flighty as Val. Thinking of Val … ‘Your mum’s a bit nervous. She’d probably appreciate you dropping in, letting her know everything’s okay.’

Jasmine pulled a face. ‘But that’s why you’re there. I’m grateful for the breathing space I’ve had these last few weeks. Mum’s been so clingy since Dad died. There’s a limit to how much a girl wants to be loved.’

Dan thought of his mother. She hadn’t become clingy when his father died. Or loving. The opposite. To prove it, all he’d received from her this birthday was an email with a voucher attached. To have his car serviced of all things. It sure felt like she was making a point about the fact that he’d sold his expensive Alpha Romeo Spider and now had a cheap Holden. She hadn’t asked why. She’d just ranted about how old cars were a drain on money and how a person’s choice of car said a lot about their character.

Jasmine had no idea how lucky she was. Her flippant attitude to her mother’s care irritated him.

‘Well, I guess I’d better get back to her, then,’ he bit out. Then he stopped, remembering the shovel. ‘I saw a shovel against the garden shed.’

Jasmine raised one dark brow in question.

‘It looks like it’s been used recently. It wasn’t there before.’

A look passed over her face. Almost panic. It was just for a moment and so slight that Dan wondered if he’d imagined it in the semi-darkness. Then she spoke in a condescending tone. ‘My mother’s paranoia getting to you, Dan? Thought I’d clear some of the mess from the pathways. It’s a trip hazard.’

In the dark? In the middle of a blackout?

Jasmine was a policewoman, but something about her didn’t sit right. Dan didn’t trust her. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, but it was there just the same.

Maybe he just disliked authority. Jasmine had an air that said she was untouchable—a hardness and control that reminded him of his mother. Her short-cropped dark hair and height added to her commanding presence.

‘Do you know why the power keeps going out?’

She gave him an appraising look. ‘The transformer was giving out. I got a call to say it blew a few minutes ago.’

‘Strange that it’s giving out at the same time every night, though.’

Irritation etched her brow. ‘What are you implying?’

‘Nothing. I’m just interested.’ Why was she being so defensive? What was she protecting or trying to hide?

Her hand went to her hip. ‘I thought you were training to be a mechanic, not an electrician.’

‘An electrical appliance mechanic.’

‘So you should understand that it could have been overloading. Everyone uses more power once it gets dark.’ She stood taller, staring him down. ‘You don’t need to worry, Dan. There’s no great mystery going on that you need to solve. I’m doing my job and would know if there was.’

He held up a hand and laughed. ‘Defensive, aren’t we?’

‘No. I just don’t appreciate you acting like you know something when there’s nothing for you to know. Sometimes it helps to mind your own business, you know?’

What was that supposed to mean? He watched her tall, trim figure stalk back onto the street and get into her car before driving away. Even if he was being paranoid, it really was strange that she had parked there rather than in her mother’s driveway. Strange that she’d checked on the house when she wasn’t on duty. He shrugged. It was none of his business.

But now to create some drama. Making mischief was his greatest strength … or weakness, depending who you asked. He jumped the fence and charged towards Val’s house, breathing hard as though something was chasing him. He held the torch under his chin to shine the light up into his face as he raced through the door.

Val met him, eyes wide. ‘What is it?’

‘Quick, Val! We need to hide. There are aliens running around everywhere out there!’

Her hand flew to her chest before reason hit. She breathed out a long breath and gave a shaky laugh, shoulders slumping. She sank into the recliner Dan had been sitting in earlier. ‘Dan Bateman, I don’t know how Barry Metfall is going to survive with you working for him.’

He laughed. ‘He said he couldn’t survive without me. He was desperate.’

‘Desperate indeed.’ Val pulled a face. ‘And clearly I was, too.’

Dan grinned. ‘You’ll all grow to love me.’

He hoped so, anyway. Jim Donnery certainly hadn’t loved him when things had gone sour with his daughter.

Thankfully, his new boss was a calm, easy-going man with only his grandson in his care—a small boy battling autism.

He shone his phone to guide him into the lounge across from Val and sat down. ‘Jasmine was next door.’

She frowned, tugging at the bottom of her stretched shirt. ‘When?’

‘Just then.’

‘Why? She hasn’t been to see me in three days. What was she doing next door?’

He wasn’t going to freak her out with Mrs Sheather’s reports of someone hanging around. He grinned. ‘I think she was checking out the UFO that landed over there. I heard her sending the aliens on their way.’

Val snorted. ‘Right.’

The lights flickered on.

‘Finally!’ Val blinked, adjusting to the light, then started when Dan’s phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and smiled, relieved to have escaped Val’s questions. ‘It’s my sister.’ She hadn’t forgotten his birthday after all! He swiped the screen. ‘Clare!’

‘Dan! Happy Birthday! Sorry I didn’t call earlier. It’s been a crazy day.’

He chuckled, not wanting her to suspect how much it meant to him that she had finally called, that he’d checked his phone several times, making sure he hadn’t missed her. ‘Well, you’re lucky you got through. All these people found out it’s my birthday and the phone hasn’t stopped ringing. I’ve had to screen all my calls, but you know, there are those sneaky ones that get through.’

‘Like who?’ Clare sounded amused and he knew exactly how she’d look. Her brown eyes would sparkle with suppressed laughter, her dimples would flash and her animated face would be alight with life and joy. Everyone loved Clare. He looked enough like her that some people mistook them for twins, but he knew she had something he didn’t. Clare would never be forgotten, left behind, rejected. He pushed the old hurt aside and forced a playful tone.

‘Well, there was the queen for a start. And then that sneaky old prime minister managed to slip through somehow. And he talked for hours!  Wanted to discuss the way the country is going and all that. I kept telling him it’s my birthday and I just want to focus on family and friends, but he seems to think he is my friend. The arrogance of the man!’

Clare did laugh then, that irrepressible sound he had loved as a boy and missed every day. ‘You never change, do you?’

‘Some of us don’t.’

Silence. He hadn’t meant to slip in that barb. She was so different since she’d become a Christian. So … good. So considerate of everybody’s feelings and so … emotional. That had put a huge barrier between them. They didn’t think alike anymore. He couldn’t honestly say she’d lost her sense of fun, she’d lost … he wasn’t sure what. Her respect for him? Her desire to please him? The connection that had carried him through the pain of losing Dad in a car accident when he was just five years old.

Now her every thought was focused on God and that missionary farm boy she’d fallen in love with. And that meant she had forgotten him.

‘What gifts did you get?’ Clare was asking.

He tried to focus on her question. ‘Um, Mum sent a voucher. Tim said he’d throw me a party when I next go back to the city for my trade exam. Doubt he will, though.’ Tim would forget. He was too wrapped up in his veterinary training to bother putting on a party for his trouble-making little brother. ‘Val bought me a gorgeous little fairy statue.’ He winked at Val, whose mouth dropped open.

‘Don’t listen to him,’ Val called indignantly. ‘I got him a calculator. Very handy. And it’s solar-powered.’

He also had a calculator on his phone that did very well, but he wasn’t going to tell her that.

‘Did you get my gift?’

‘No.’

Clare groaned. ‘I prayed it would get there on time. I posted you something. It will probably arrive tomorrow.’

‘Ah, okay. Thanks.’

‘There was something else I wanted to ask you.’

‘What’s that?’

‘About my wedding.’

‘Yes, I can supply the exploding candles.’

Clare groaned and laughed all in one breath. ‘No, Dan! Not this time! I want you to be in the wedding party. Up front where I can keep an eye on you and make sure you can’t get up to mischief. Phil said to ask you if you’ll be one of his groomsmen.’

He pretended to hesitate, though he felt honoured. ‘Well, that all depends. Do you think you can keep the prime minister away for the day?’

Clare chuckled. ‘We’ll do our best. But it will be my day, not yours. What makes you think anyone will be focusing on you?’

If only. Dan shrugged across the phone. ‘It always happens, Clare.’ He put on a mournful tone. ‘When you’re extraordinary, these kinds of things happen whether you like it or not.’

‘Extraordinary is the word!’ Clare said, her tone dry. ‘I want you to partner my friend, Fleur.’

‘Not a problem. What’s she like? Does she deserve me?’

Silence. Dan waited, feeling the tension through the phone. Clare should know he was joking. Once she would have laughed with him, but now her tone was serious.

‘Dan, she’s had a hard life. She’s beautiful, but she’s … well, she may not respond to your … charm straight away.’

Dan laughed. He liked a challenge. ‘Don’t worry, Clare. I’ll take good care of her.’

‘That’s what I’m worried about.’

‘No, I promise. No exploding candles. No water bombs. No stealing her shoes. No nothing. I can’t promise the same for anyone else, but I promise to behave with your friend.’

Clare chuckled. ‘Thank you. And thank you for making me laugh. You always do.’

Yeah, that’s what he was good for. A laugh. Everyone could depend on him for that. But the moment he was gone, the moment the drama and excitement he created was over, they went back to their own lives without a single thought of him. Maybe it was turning eighteen that had made him so introspective. He wasn’t usually this broody.

Chapter Two

F

leur Lester tied back her wispy blonde hair then twirled it into a knot on top of her head. Her phone rang and she reached for it, smiling at her brother’s name on the screen. ‘Hey, Jono.’

‘Fleur. How are you?’

‘Good. Just getting ready for work.’

‘When do you start?’

She liked the familiar sound of his voice. Liked having a family member involved in the everyday details of her life. She had missed him so much during all her years in foster homes. ‘I’ve got a couple of hours before I start.’

‘Getting ready early?’

‘Yep. It helps me prepare mentally.’

‘Are you still seeing a counsellor?’

She tensed. ‘Not at the moment.’ Why was he asking? ‘Clare helps me more than any counsellor does.’ She wasn’t sure why she failed to tell him that Shadrach Broughton had also taken her under his wing. She wasn’t sure what to make of the opinionated young man she’d met at the combined youth group bonfire night.

‘Yeah, she’s good value,’ Jono said, and Fleur heard the smile in his voice.

Good value was an understatement when it came to Clare. How did you ever repay someone who had stood by you, even when you tried to push them away? Someone who shared the love of Jesus with you so that you had a reason to live?

‘Fleur?’ She was brought back to the present as Jonathan drew in an audible breath. ‘I have some news.’

Her heart rate picked up. His tone was so serious. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I got a call from the prison hospital. Dad has passed away.’

She drew back and tried to process what she was hearing. ‘Already? You’re sure?’

‘Yes, Fleur. It’s over. He’s gone.’

She shook her head. She had known he had cancer but hadn’t expected this so soon. She didn’t know what to feel. She was numb. Jonathan’s voice brought her back. ‘You okay?’

‘I will be. Just trying to take it in.’

‘I told them we don’t want a funeral.’

Profound relief filled her. She couldn’t pretend to grieve for Ken Lester. ‘Thank you.’

‘You want me to come? I can come if you need me.’

‘No. I’m okay.’

‘Promise you’ll give me a call if you change your mind? If you need anything?’

‘I promise.’

He hesitated, as though trying to work out if she meant it. ‘Okay. There’s something else I need to talk to you about. Are you up to talking about the house in Caldon?’

She bit her lip. Dad had put their childhood home in her name to preserve his assets the day he was given his life sentence. When she turned eighteen the house had become hers, but she still hadn’t felt safe going back. If her father had ever escaped from prison he’d have known exactly where to find her. But now he’d never find her again.

She picked up her hairbrush and absently twirled it in her hand. ‘What about it?’

‘The tenants left a few months ago and I didn’t want to put it back on the rental market in case you decided to go back now. The agents are pressuring me to let someone else in. I wondered what you’d like me to do?’

She sat down on her bed and stared out her window. ‘I’ll think about it.’

‘Good.’ He sounded pleased. His voice softened. ‘It’s really over, Fleur.’

She let out a long breath, her shoulders slumping. ‘It doesn’t feel real.’

‘I know. It might take a while.’

‘Are you okay, Jono?’

‘Honestly?’ He sighed. ‘I’m sad he never tried to contact you. Sad he never said sorry or asked you for forgiveness.’

‘I didn’t want him to. I wouldn’t have let him, anyway.’

‘I know. But he’s our father and I wish he’d tried. I guess I wish … I wish he was someone else.’

She knew what he meant. ‘I’m glad you’re nothing like him, Jonathan.’

‘Me too.’ His words were so quiet, so sad, she almost missed them. ‘But it scares me, you know. What if I was? What if those genes had been passed on to me?’

Was it about genes? Or was it about being completely selfish and depraved and not caring for anybody else in the world?

‘You’re a good man, Jonathan.’ And he was a Christian now. In her experience, that made a person trustworthy. She drew in a deep breath. ‘I need to get ready for work. I’ll call you back when I decide about the house.’

‘Thanks. I love you, Fleur.’

She froze. He’d never said that before. She managed to mumble something back and ended the call. Her hands were shaking. She dropped her phone on the bed and went to the top drawer. She needed a cigarette.

The first draw wasn’t enough. She took another.

God?

She was supposed to have forgiven her dad, she knew that. But she hadn’t been able to manage it and now he was dead. Too late.

Maybe she should head off to work early. She didn’t like the idea of being alone in her flat, memories stabbing her, reminding her of wounds still open and bleeding.

She wasn’t sure why she still pushed people away rather than allowing them to be there for her. Maybe she should call Clare, but Clare now had a fiancé to absorb her every waking thought. Clare Bateman was proof that some people’s lives did turn out okay. Maybe hers could too, now Dad was gone.

She lifted the cigarette to her lips again, remembering that awful day her nine-year-old heart had shattered into tiny pieces. She’d heard her mother’s heart-rending cry and run into the kitchen. Mum was staring at Dad’s laptop screen, and Fleur caught a glimpse of the pictures of herself. Mum looked up, her expression filled with absolute horror, anguish and pity. Before Fleur could speak, Dad walked in. He realised what Mum had seen, panicked and tried to wrestle the laptop from her. Mum raced for her phone, and Fleur watched in terror as her parents struggled. Dad shoved Mum hard, there was the sound of a sickening crack and Mum’s head hit the kitchen bench. Dad ran, and it was the last time Fleur had seen him. Mum hadn’t survived. The one person in the world willing to fight for Fleur; to protect her no matter the cost, was gone. As was her innocence, her family, her reason to live.

Her father’s betrayal destroyed her soul.

Until two years ago.

She bit her lip, remembering that day. Sixteen years old, she lay in hospital, frustrated but also relieved her attempt at suicide hadn’t worked, trapped somewhere between the will to live and the belief she had nothing to live for.

And that’s when her friend Clare had stepped into her hospital room and spoken the words that reached somewhere deep inside and offered hope.

‘Just because one person didn’t love and respect you the way they should, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be loved and respected.’ Her tone begged Fleur to believe her.

How desperately Fleur wanted her to be right. But could she take the risk and dare to trust someone again?

Clare had then asked her if she believed in God.

She’d seriously considered it. She’d seen the difference faith made in Clare’s life. ‘I want to … but …’ She gathered up the courage to ask the question that burned inside her; the one that left her so twisted up inside; that no counsellor had been able to answer. ‘How could God let my dad do what he did to me?’

Clare bit her lip, expression pained. ‘I don’t know. But I do know that God didn’t make your father make the choices he did. He’s totally against it. And I know God wants to help us through this life; be our closest friend.’

Fleur’s heart twisted. ‘But you’re nice, Clare. If God knows everything about me he can’t love me.’

‘He knows.’ Clare’s earnest brown eyes begged her to believe. ‘He also knows what I used to be like; what I’m still like sometimes, deep down inside.’ Clare swallowed hard. ‘Believe me, I’m not nice. But God is helping me, changing me. It’s God’s love that made me care so much about you, no matter what you said to me.’

Fleur grasped the lifeline. How desperately she wanted to believe; to be like Clare, to learn to trust again. ‘And you believe he loves me too?’

‘With everything within me. He’s just waiting for you to turn to him for help. He knows we need it!’

‘But why would God care about me?’

‘Because he made you. He made you and he wants you back. All you have to do is forget your pride and accept.’

Tears stung Fleur’s eyes that day as she stood on the cliff edge between life and death. She pictured God reaching out his hand, begging her to trust him, to let him love her and give her a reason to live. ‘God is my only hope,’ she whispered, recognising the truth of it. She needed a miracle. ‘I need him. I can’t keep living with this pain. This loneliness.’

Clare’s eyes filled with desperate hope. ‘Can you tell him that?’

Fleur closed her eyes. Could she? Could she trust God? What other hope did she have? God, I want to trust you, but you’ve never done anything to show me that I can.

But neither had she given him a chance. What if he let her down? What if he didn’t really care? There was only one way to find out. She’d ask him to grant her dearest wish.

God, if you’re real, can you please help me find my brother? She hadn’t seen Jonathan since their mother’s funeral. He had tried to reach out to her, but she had curled up in a ball and shut her eyes tight, refusing to speak to him, shutting out the world. She hadn’t known who she could trust.

Nothing had changed, except that she now had Clare, a friend she could trust. That counted for something, didn’t it? She reached out and grabbed Clare’s hand as doubt warred with hope.  ‘Clare, I have a brother somewhere. His name is Jonathan and I haven’t seen him since I was nine. Can you find him for me?’

Clare’s eyes widened, then she blinked a couple of times. ‘How?’ she finally asked.

‘I don’t know. Didn’t you say God can do anything?’

She told Clare about Jonathan. That he would be in his mid-twenties by now. He’d been eighteen when she was nine and their lives had been turned upside down. She didn’t remember a lot of that time. Didn’t remember where he’d gone.

Clare promised she’d pray and she’d look.

She had. And God had done it. Clare found Jonathan working in a lawyer’s office in a nearby town and brought him into the hospital to see her. When Jonathan threw his arms around her and wept, Fleur knew, for the first time, deep in her soul, that God was real and he cared for her.

‘I thought you didn’t want to see me again,’ Jonathan said as he clung to her. ‘I thought I must remind you of Dad.’

She reassured him of her love and told him what God had done. Now they both believed. God was real and he cared for them. And Dad was no longer a threat. Everything was going to be okay.

The doorbell rang, jarring Fleur from her memories.

She moved to the front door and opened it, forgetting the cigarette still between her fingers.

Her eyes widened. Shadrach Broughton stood there, tall, wiry, glasses resting on his studious face. Who’d given him her address? She certainly hadn’t.

He looked down at her hand and the blood drained from his face like a sink draining of water. He stared at her, speechless, his horrified gaze fixed on the cigarette between her fingers. She stared back, equally horrified to see him standing on her doorstep. ‘What are you doing here?’

At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but then he finally managed to force out a few stilted words. ‘I thought you were a Christian.’

It sounded very much like an accusation. ‘I am.’

‘But you’re smoking.’

‘Yes.’ She kicked herself for not expecting this from him. He’d taken it upon himself to help her grow as a Christian and his last email should have alerted her. His tirade about Christians who took their freedom to the extreme and didn’t live a righteous and holy life.

He continued to stare and she felt warmth creeping up into her face. She hid the cigarette behind her back. If only her fingers weren’t shaking. ‘You came to see me?’

‘I did. We need to talk.’