The couple shared a look that puzzled him. Caro spoke, resting her hand on her husband’s knee. “Harriet almost gave up. In the hospital. She didn’t want to live.”
“Because her life wasn’t going to be perfect?”
“No. There was another reason. I think you need to talk to her about that.”
“All the same, I can’t see why she would just give up. It doesn’t sound like her.” She gave up on us. He pushed the thought away. “All right, I’ll speak to her.”
“It won’t be easy. Harriet has always been good at putting on a front. The way she is, always busy, always volunteering. She’s spent her whole life trying to justify her existence.”
“That makes no sense. She’s your only child and you dote on her.”
Jack stood abruptly and went to the bookshelf. He sat back down, a large photo album on his lap.
Curbing his impatience, Lucas watched him leaf through the pages. Finally, he nodded, passing over the book. “I think this will explain a lot.”
Lucas took the album, resting it on his lap. There were two photographs, studio portraits, one on each page. On the left, the photo of a boy in his teens. With a sudden surge of recollection, he remembered Angela mentioning something about a boy, but it hadn’t registered at the time what it meant. The hair colour was unknown, the bare scalp smooth and shining, but his eyes were Harriet’s eyes, a deep blue that would turn to violet. There was a translucent quality to the face. A face that had known suffering. Like Harriet. No wonder Caro was a nervous wreck. To lose one child was bad enough. To almost lose two…
He turned his attention to the other photograph. “This is Harriet?”
Caro answered. Jack sat silent, staring blankly at the photo album. “She was six when this was taken. Her brother was fifteen.”
A serious child, with eyes that spoke of a knowledge beyond her years.
“Harriet never mentioned she had a brother. What was his name?”
“Jordy…Jordan. She never speaks of him. Our fault. We should have spoken to her about him. At the time he died it was too painful. After that we didn’t know how.”
“I still don’t understand.”
“We never planned on any more children after Jordan. But then he developed leukaemia. We needed a donor.”
“So, you had another child. Harriet?”
“Yes. There was a one in four chance of a perfect match. She didn’t quite match. But she was our best hope. Unfortunately, he developed chronic graft versus host disease. It attacked his organs. We were trying to get him strong enough for a kidney transplant when he died.”
“Was Harriet to be the donor?” Suddenly, those snide remarks to her parents made sense. That almost hidden resentment. It explained her obsession about being wanted for herself. It also explained her quest for perfection.
Caro looked desperately at Jack.
“Yes.” Jack’s voice was gravelly. “Yes. We are the sort of parents who would ask that of an eight-year-old girl.”
“You put your son’s life on her shoulders.” The rage in his gut burned at the injustice of it. “She was a child.”
“It wasn’t meant to be that way. We told her it wasn’t her fault he died. She seemed to accept that. But ever since she’s been trying so hard to be the perfect child. As if she’s trying to make up for Jordan.”
Lucas remained silent for several minutes.
Finally, he looked up at the older couple. “I need to tell you something.”
He sucked in a breath, aware that they wouldn’t approve.
“Harriet and I were married the day of the accident.”
“That’s impossible.” Caro’s voice held hurt as much as outrage.
“She was eighteen. We were going to tell you the next day, but the accident changed everything.”
“Why? Why would she do that?”
“She wanted to come to the U.S. with me. I wanted her to come. We thought…she said it would be the only way. That you would accept a marriage and honour it.”
Jack spoke slowly. “You were right. We would never have sanctioned her travelling with you without marriage. Aside from that, your scholarship wouldn’t have supported both of you.”
“Harriet intended to work. Her ballet teacher had a colleague in Santa Monica who agreed to employ her as a teaching assistant. She had the RADS qualifications. It would have been good experience and it would only have been twelve months.”
“But she changed her mind.”
“Yes. Understandable, don’t you think? With no job and knowing she wouldn’t have your support. Knowing how much you would disapprove. I’m surprised she didn’t tell you. Because of the legal issues.”
“No. She let us assume that she never intended to go with you. It was only recently the possibility was mentioned. When you turned up again.”
“A lot of assumptions. She probably assumed I’d deal with the divorce myself. I said I would, when she told me she wouldn’t be coming.”
Jack nodded wearily. “I don’t know what she was thinking. She didn’t tell us anything. And there were other complications.”
“Which were?”
“Under the circumstances that is really a matter for you and Harriet.”
“So, you agree it has to be sorted out?”
“Yes. If you can fix this with Harriet, you would have my eternal gratitude.” As they all stood, Jack extended his hand. “From now on you can count on our full cooperation.”
“Thank you.”
The older man tightened his grip. “You might want to keep in mind that the only times Harriet ever went against us, did something she knew would go against our wishes, were to be with you.”
Lucas nodded. “I’m counting on it.”
He turned to leave, and Caro stopped him. “Wait. I have something for you.”
She left the room, returning with what looked like a shoe box, decorated with teddies. “Harriet made it. Occupational Therapy while she was in the hospital. She kept her personal things in it.”
“Why do you have it?”
Again, that look between husband and wife. “We…confiscated it. She was brooding, and we thought it might help. It seemed to. She never mentioned it, or you, again.”
“And you thought that was a good thing.”
“You weren’t around.”
“No, I wasn’t. That’s the first thing I’m going to change. After all that’s gone on, you probably find it hard to believe, but I love your daughter. I always have.”
11
There was no answer to his knock. Lucas used the card Jack gave him. It would either stay in Lucas’ possession, or be returned to Harriet. It all depended on what happened tonight. Either way, her parents had agreed to step back. They couldn’t continue to use emotional blackmail to keep control of their daughter. It had been hard for Caro, but Jack had made the commitment and she had agreed. Finally. If nothing else, he could do that for Harriet.
The apartment was in darkness as Lucas let himself in. The small beep as he operated the card entry sounded loud in the silence, but no response came from inside. He stood still for a few moments to allow his eyes to adjust. Down the hallway, a faint light showed under the door of the master suite. Harriet had been asleep when Jack left, but that meant nothing. She could have fallen asleep with the small lamp beside the bed switched on. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Adjusting the box under his arm, he eased the door open and stepped inside. Harriet lay sprawled on her side, the curve of her stomach resting on a pillow, her legs with the braces outlined under the thin sheet. One arm lay protectively over the bump. Her bump, his baby. Their baby. He forced back the rush of emotion that choked his throat. There would be time for that later. There were fences to mend first.
He placed the box on the bedside table and squatted beside the bed. Apart from that glimpse at the office, he hadn’t seen her for six months and he wanted to drink her in. Touch her. He clenched his fists and rested his elbows on the edge of the
bed, careful not to disturb her.
The hair was different, a short, ragged cut that stood like a halo around the pale face. Her lids and the delicate skin under her eyes seemed bruised, blue veins under translucent skin, gold tipped lashes fanning across her cheek. Her mouth…he sucked in an unwary breath. Slightly parted, the lower lip shone with moisture, as if she’d licked it.
Controlling his impulse to wake her, he sat in the armchair, the box on his lap. Who knew the secrets of a woman’s heart? Why Teddy Bears? Jack’s words echoed in his mind.
“Doomed to repeat your mistakes.” Standing the lid against the side of the chair, he delved into the box. Something soft wrapped in tissue paper, some photographs, an envelope and a small jeweller’s box. He picked up the photographs first, flicking through them, trying not to let the memories distract him.
They were all memories, because they were all of him, apart from one of the pair of them together. He had the same one. The last photograph taken of them together. The last photo taken of Harriet standing, graceful and strong. The white lacy dress she wore for the wedding ceremony and the graduation dinner afterwards made her look more ethereal than ever. A stranger had offered to take the photo with Harriet’s phone and she’d sent it through to his email straight away. Odd that she had a print of it. Hours later, the accident had ended everything, the dress torn and bloody, smeared with grease.
Shoving the photographs away, he picked up the small velvet box. Another memory. The slender ring with intertwined rose-gold vines and diamond and sapphire chips resembling leaves had been a big expense for a student. He’d sold his old desktop computer to pay for it. A pretty thing. He could afford so much more now. All the same, he’d not expected to see it again. He pulled it from the slot, tugging as it snagged. His stomach roiled at the sight of the twisted metal where it had been cut from Harriet’s finger.
It brought back the smell of blood and oil and hot metal. Holding Harriet’s hand, slimy with his blood and hers as they waited for the rescue services to remove the weight of a black Ducati motorbike from her crushed legs. They’d dragged him away when he tried to lift it off. Warned him of the dangers of her bleeding out if it were removed too soon. Before they were ready with the right equipment.
He could recall the bleak faces of the Paramedics as they spoke among themselves, ready to leap into action once the heavy machine was removed, releasing compressed arteries and veins. Harriet’s expression. Resigned. Almost peaceful, as if she half expected this ending. Never believing she deserved more. He hadn’t understood at the time. Hadn’t suspected that weakness, that vulnerability.
He clenched the ring in his hand, grateful for the pain of the sharp metal. Grimly he put the bauble in his inside jacket pocket with the envelope holding the marriage certificate. If Harriet wouldn’t or couldn’t fight for their future, he would have to do it for her. His conversation with her parents was only the first skirmish.
The tissue paper separated easily, and something fell to the floor. A soft knitted thing and a photograph that lay face down. He scooped the woollen trifle up and examined it. A baby booty, to go with the other one still on the tissue paper. Along with a knitted bonnet and a half-knitted shawl, the needles still attached. A spiral of queasiness crawled up his abdomen, tightening his gut. The complication. And the Teddies. His heart pounding, he reached for the photograph.
He had no idea how long he stared at the photograph. Harriet’s sleepy voice brought him back. “Lucas? How the hell did you get in?”
“Your father gave me a key card.”
“He had no right to do that. What are you doing here?” The sheet billowed as she flicked it to one side, revealing her legs, the black knee braces stark in the dim light as she sat up.
“We need to talk. You have something to tell me, I think.”
She flushed, one arm moving across her stomach. “What happened to the card I gave you?”
“I still have it.”
She was silent for the moment. “Why didn’t you use it to get in the other time.”
“I didn’t use it because you were on the other side of the door saying no.”
“But it’s all right to sneak in while I’m asleep?” Her tone was chilly. “Give me back the cards. Both of them.”
He lay them on the bedside table. “You have a choice. If you ask me to go, I’ll leave. I did consult a lawyer and he said I was entitled.” He indicated her stomach. “Think about it.”
“A lawyer?”
“Your father. Which brings me to another question. Why did you never tell your father about our plans? About what we’d done that day. You said you would.”
“I didn’t want him to know how badly I’d stuffed up.”
“But they must have known we’d slept together.”
She blushed, the colour blending with the pink night shirt. “Why do you say that?”
The numbness seeped away, leaving a deep-seated anger along with the knot in his gut. He’d almost been a father once before and he’d never known. And now she was keeping another child from him.
“Tell me about our baby.”
Her hand went to her stomach. but he held the photograph into the light.
“This one Harriet. You make a habit of keeping secrets. Secrets and lies are what define our relationship.”
“Faye…” The whispered word told him so many things. She moved away from the lamp, leaving her face in darkness, like his own.
“You called her Faye… It was a little girl?”
“Yes. She was so beautiful, Lucas, but she never had a chance.”
“Tell me. Tell me everything. I thought you were protected.”
“I was…then. But with the accident I didn’t take them that night, or afterwards. No one knew I was on medication. You only have to miss a couple at the right time.”
“When did you find out?”
“Not for months. It was a miracle I even fell pregnant in the middle of everything else.”
“It went wrong?”
“Not the pregnancy.” Her hand trailed along the silver scar, spotlighted by the lamp. “It was the aneurism. I bled out and it affected her…the baby. I went into labour, but she died before she was born. She was six months along but…”
He looked down at the photograph. Harriet, with her hair in a short halo around her head, gazing at the pale perfect features of the tiny baby in her arms. His gut ached, but he had to stay focused. When they were united in reality, they could grieve together.
“Why did they take a photograph?”
“They do that these days. Let you nurse them. They say it helps with the grieving process.”
“Did it help?” The picture in his mind was getting clearer.
“I don’t know. Maybe. I never cried. I wanted to, but the tears wouldn’t come. For a while I wished I died too. I should have been able to save her.”
“You can’t always save the people you love.”
“But…”
“But what?”
“Nothing.”
“Do not lie to me.” It came out softly. Gently. He didn’t want to spook her now. “Harriet. Only the truth can work between us.”
“There is no us.”
“You can say that with our child in your belly and another child in our history? There is no going back from this Harriet. The day you willingly slept with me, knowing you could fall pregnant, you sealed our fate. I’ve walked away from you twice at your behest. No matter what you say, I will not walk away from you, or our child again.”
Silence. Only the faint rustle as her fingers tangled with the sheet, twisting it into a coil and releasing it. He waited for her response. It came on the heels of a sigh. “Does what I want matter?”
“It matters.”
“What happens if it happens again? If there is no baby?”
“Is that likely?”
“We’re over the six months. The obstetrician says the baby is healthy.”
“Tick that one off.”
&
nbsp; “You don’t want to live like this. Limited. You travel at the drop of a hat. I can’t do that. Not now. I’m not allowed to travel. You spent the last few months overseas. What kind of relationship is that with you living on the other side of the world for months at a time?”
Her resistance stirred something in his chest. Did she realise she was fighting for a real relationship? “We work it out. You won’t be pregnant forever. You’ve never given me a chance to prove myself. As a husband, as a father. I’m demanding that right. It is my right as the father of your child. You know it.”
He adjusted the light so he could see her face. “It’s time you acknowledged that I do have rights. Rights and obligations. You’re trying to deny both if you keep me out of your life and the life of our child. Isn’t it about time you met some of your obligations?”
“You sent the divorce papers.”
“You know I wouldn’t have if you’d told me about the baby.”
Her hand clutched the sheets, knuckles white under the light. “You should have been a lawyer. What do you want?”
“Six months. Let me prove myself. If you can’t trust me after that time, we’ll look at it again.”
“You sound so confident. What about your trust? In your view, I’ve done nothing but lie. What chance do I have of you trusting me?”
“You have to earn it. No more lies. No more evasions. If you’re in pain, I want to know. If I do something wrong, you tell me. If I ask a question, you answer me, with the truth.”
Harriet stared at Lucas. She should be angry at his demands. Instead there was a warmth in her chest. Six months. A gamble on the future. From the grim expression on his face he intended to enforce it. He said he wouldn’t walk away. Not from his child. But would he walk away from her in the end? The next three months would certainly test his resolve. Did he have any idea what it would involve?
“I’m not supposed to bear any weight.”
He stood abruptly and sat on the bed, steadying himself with one hand. “Tell me what that means.”
“I can’t stand on my legs. I have to be assisted with everything. Like when I injured my knee.”
Tell Me No Lies Page 16
