The Secrets We Share

by Emma Hannigan

  For a second, she actually felt like she used to when she and her mama prepared for the boarders so many years ago. She tried to imagine what Nathalie might be feeling right now. No doubt the poor child was still utterly shell-shocked. But Clara felt she was an authority on shock. She’d suffered plenty and borne witness to even more over the years.

  Gus had most definitely sent Nathalie to her. She was certain of that.

  The renewed sense of purpose mixed with incredible expectation at Nathalie’s arrival was wonderful. Excitement sent delicious shivers running through her body. Yet again, she acknowledged what a roller coaster life was. Each time she reached a point when she felt the world was becoming too much, a turn of events would catapult her onwards once more.

  Chapter 6

  As Max lay in the day bed in the hospital, the early-morning light filtered through the blinds. After a long shift in surgery, it had seemed easier to crash at work. Plus it meant he could avoid the mess waiting at home for him a little bit longer. And Max was an expert in avoiding emotional outbursts at home these days.

  Suddenly the door shot open and Abe Quigley strode in.

  ‘Max, there you are. I’ve been looking for you. Come to my boardroom, please. We need to have an important discussion.’

  Max clambered out of the bed and pulled his washbag from a locker. Finding a rest room, he brushed his teeth and made an attempt at freshening up. When Abe Quigley, hospital chief and administrator, called for you, it was certain trouble.

  Max knocked on Abe’s door and walked in, hoping he looked less bedraggled than he felt.

  ‘I’ll cut to the chase, Max. The cuts we’ve begun to make aren’t enough. We need to let a bunch more people go or this hospital is going to go under.’ Abe smiled briefly as he clasped his hands together. ‘I’m not going to allow that on my watch, obviously. Here’s the list of people I need you to consider in your department. When I made you head of surgery, you knew matters like this would rest on your shoulders.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Max said, swallowing hard. As he scanned the list of names, he wanted to cry. Some of these people had been here longer than he had.

  ‘Sir, how are we going to keep the surgical wards open if all these nurses and surgeons go?’ he asked incredulously.

  ‘We scale it down. We’re only taking on more complex surgeries from here on in. The usual run-of-the-mill stuff like appendix and bypass operations will have to be handed to our sister hospital across town. I’ve met with their board and they’ll pass the more complex ones to us.’

  Max’s blood went cold. ‘When do I need to decide these people’s fate?’

  ‘You have until next week. But if you can do it sooner, I’d be obliged.’

  Max stood up and took the pages with him. The first person he met as he walked towards his office was Amy Stephenson, a talented surgeon he’d finished his training with. Her name was at the top of Abe’s list.

  ‘Hey, Max,’ she said, breezing past. She stopped in her tracks and reversed. ‘Hey, buddy! You OK?’

  ‘Hey, Amy,’ he said, rubbing his face roughly with his hand. ‘All good … Actually, it’s not. But it’ll be cool,’ he said, forcing a smile.

  ‘How’s Nathalie doing?’ she asked kindly. ‘And Amber?’

  ‘Yeah, fine,’ he lied. ‘How are your guys?’

  ‘The twins are full of beans. They’re so excited. They’ve been picked to play softball for the county. Means a whole new set of uniforms, which doesn’t come cheap, I can tell ya! There goes the planned weekend at Palm Springs for Neil and me. But we can do that any time. The boys come first.’

  Max shifted his stance, wishing the ground would swallow him up. Abe emerged from his office and spotted them chatting.

  ‘Not here in the corridor, eh, Max,’ he said loudly. ‘Take all the meetings in your own office.’

  ‘Of course,’ Max hissed. ‘I haven’t made any decisions,’ he added.

  Amy looked at him in confusion and her face dropped. Abe slunk away, leaving Max red-faced and flailing.

  ‘Max?’

  ‘I’ve got to run, Amy,’ he managed. ‘Catch you around.’

  By the time he got to his office and shut the door, Max felt as if the walls were closing in on him. How had his life gone so far down the drain in such a short space of time? The next few weeks were going to bring about a complete change, of that he had no doubt. But right now he had no idea how he would cope with the certain fallout.

  The knock on the door made him jump.

  ‘Hello, Mr Conway! I brought you one of the new white chocolate mocha cappuccinos they’re doing at the café.’

  ‘Oh thank you, Nancy,’ he said, forcing a smile. Nancy was a part-time secretary he’d inherited when his own had gone on maternity leave. She seemed like a nice woman, but he was paranoid that she was sometimes a little too nice.

  ‘I hope you enjoy it,’ she said as she made a point of leaning forward in her low-cut top.

  ‘Yes, I’m sure I will …’

  She stared at him, as if waiting for him to say something else.

  ‘That’ll be all, thank you, Nancy,’ he said.

  ‘Oh …’ She looked crestfallen. ‘I’ll be just out here if you need me,’ she said, pouting slightly.

  Max nodded and swivelled around in his chair so that he was facing the window. Could this day get any worse?

  His thoughts returned to the problems waiting at home for him. How had his mother found him after all this time, and why? When he’d first left Ireland, he’d almost expected her to land on his doorstep. But as the months turned to years, he’d become accustomed to not having his parents or his sister in his life.

  He’d also met Amber. He’d tapped into her world and that of her parents and sister. They’d gotten together weeks after his arrival in America, signalling the end of his old life and the beginning of a new and better one.

  He’d come up against some major resistance from Amber’s father at first. He made it very clear that he was not pleased about his precious girl hanging out with a pale, gangly Irish immigrant with no family or money behind him. But Max kept his head down and his focus firmly on his goals. Slowly Amber’s father accepted him and realised he was diligent, hard-working and clever.

  ‘You’re not the one I’d have chosen,’ he said. ‘But I gotta hand it to you, Max. You’re a grafter and you got brains in that head o’ yours. If you keep on minding my girl the way you’ve done so far, I can’t complain.’

  They’d never become close. Max was done with the whole happy families notion, so he allowed Amber to do the bulk of that while he only turned up at special occasions. Amber’s sister Macy moved to New York and seemed about as keen as Max to stay in contact. Soon afterwards, Amber’s folks passed away within months of one another.

  Max had finished his training as a doctor and excelled, going on to specialise in heart surgery. Now a renowned and well-respected pillar of the community, he had very successfully reinvented himself. Even he often forgot about his Irish roots, and he was delighted to have a daughter who’d been born and raised in LA. As far as he was concerned, his childhood and the time leading up to his sudden departure from Ireland might as well have happened to somebody else entirely.

  His marriage to Amber was serene in many ways. They weren’t fond of open public displays of affection, nor did they make a habit of arguing. They had a healthy respect for one another and their relationship usually worked seamlessly.

  So he could safely say he’d never been as angry at Amber as he was at this moment. How could she have gone behind his back and organised to send Nathalie to Ireland? How dare she communicate with his mother like this!

  He thumped his desk and tried to imagine what was going on in his parents’ house right now. Knowing his mother, she’d be running from Billy to Jack, fussing as his father carried on working … With a jolt, he realised that his father must be long retired by now. Was he doddery and stooped, or had he turned into one of those imposing ge
ntlemen who held on to their height despite the passage of time?

  Ava, with her fiery temper and throaty laugh, flashed through his mind. He’d always felt most guilty about her. Especially when his best mate Sean had arrived telling him he’d been unfaithful and Ava had called off their wedding.

  He’d wanted to pick up the phone so many times over the years. Firstly to tell Ava how sorry he was that her heart had been broken. Because he knew without a shadow of doubt that splitting from Sean would’ve almost killed her. She’d adored him.

  More than that, Max had longed to tell her to give Sean a second chance. To let her know he was a broken man without her. But stubborn pride had always won over, and the longer Max left it, the wider the gap his silence created. His friend’s misery was not something he enjoyed witnessing, though. Sean had sobbed on his shoulder in a drunken stupor many times over the years. As time passed, it happened less frequently, but Max knew he had never gotten over Ava.

  ‘Nobody comes close to her. I’ve tried, and some of the women are a close second, but I can’t settle for that. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us,’ Sean explained. Max had urged him to call Ava. To try and mend the hurt he’d caused.

  ‘Maybe she’ll forgive and forget? Time is a great healer, so they say.’

  ‘Said the pot to the kettle,’ Sean always answered. ‘If you honestly believe that, why aren’t you jumping on a plane to the Emerald Isle and mending all your burnt bridges?’

  Max had never told Sean the details leading up to his sudden departure, and his friend had always had the courtesy not to ask.

  His head throbbed and he felt like crawling into a cave and hiding for a week. Nothing stressed Max as much as thinking about his family. He’d sat and deliberated long and hard at many different points of his life. But no matter how he tried, he absolutely couldn’t back down. Even now, after twenty years, his anger and resentment were still stopping him from holding out an olive branch.

  He knew Nathalie was in crisis. He didn’t need Amber pointing that out. The hollow look on his daughter’s face didn’t go unnoticed. He hadn’t the first clue of how to fix her, however. Besides, that was Amber’s forte. She was one of life’s fixers. She could look at an issue, no matter how big or small, and come up with a clever and feasible solution.

  So after Mackenzie died, he’d done what he always did. He’d buried his head in his work and mentally run away from the problems at home.

  Hiding had worked for Max ever since he was a toddler. If his father was cross or he got into trouble at school, he’d shin up a tree or climb into the back of the wardrobe, behind his mother’s long coats and dresses, and wait, sometimes for hours, until the dust settled and the thudding of his heart abated.

  His greatest feat of all had been the time he’d run here to America. He’d never intended for it to be permanent. But the longer he spent here, the harder it was to return. Once he reached the ten-year threshold, he’d honestly thought there was no going back. He was fine with that. Or so he’d managed to convince himself.

  But now that Nathalie was off to Ireland, he’d be connected to his past once again.

  Max had never thought he’d live to regret his decision to cut ties with his family. He honestly figured he had it all worked out. He’d even gone over this exact scenario in his head. He’d somehow convinced himself that it wouldn’t affect him should Nathalie want to meet them some day.

  But now he realised that theories were never truly tested until they came to pass. He hated being exposed as a liar, too. As he knew only too well, lies were the root of so many problems, and he’d just been caught out.

  As he went about his rounds, ghosts from the past continued to plague him.

  He knew his parents understood why he’d gone. They were well aware of his reasons for hauling his entire life to the other side of the world. But at the time, he couldn’t bring himself to tell Ava the truth. He’d tried to make her hate him. But with just a short window of opportunity for that to happen, he’d only managed to confuse and hurt her. The look of sheer bewilderment on her face as he’d walked away that fateful day still haunted his dreams.

  He was in a bar on his own, composing a letter to her, the night he met Amber. Perched in a dark corner with a pint of cool beer and a look of utter despair on his face, he’d been pleasantly surprised when a couple of pretty girls asked if they could join him.

  Amber had stood out instantly. Dressed in expensive-looking clothes, with flawless skin and perfectly coiffed hair, she oozed sophistication and style. He was drawn to her gorgeous American accent and laughed when she was clearly blown away by his Irishness.

  ‘OMG, you are the cutest guy I’ve ever set eyes on,’ she said giddily. ‘And as for that accent …’

  He was staggered by how much he enjoyed being swooned over. There were no mind games with Amber either. She made it clear she wanted him, and in his vulnerable mental state he was glad to have someone on his side. Her friends were welcoming and he soon slotted into her life. His only hostile moments came from her father, and even he eventually softened.

  All thoughts of Ireland were drowned out by the whirlwind that Amber created. He never finished his letter to Ava and only allowed himself to think of her occasionally. He was genuinely happy with Amber, but every now and again he wondered how his family back home were getting on.

  Did Ava still live near their parents? He sincerely hoped she was happy now. That she’d found a man worthy of her. Unlike Amber, who was controlled and steady, Ava had been flighty and fun-loving, to say the least. He still winced as he thought of her face the day he’d said he was leaving. She hadn’t cried or yelled; instead she’d put her hand on his face, kissed his cheek gently and walked silently away.

  It was the most dignified and stoic response imaginable, and he’d felt like a complete shit. When Sean had arrived in America three years after him, Max had been both astonished and delighted. He’d nearly buckled and contacted his sister. But Sean had assured him that Ava was in no mood to have newsy chats.

  Max loved Amber wholly and totally. That love had deepened and strengthened over the years, especially after Nathalie had completed their family. He felt it was all so wonderful and perfect that introducing his muck-up of a family would only mar it all. So he’d convinced Sean to go along with his lies.

  Fresh anger shot through Max.

  Damn his mother for picking this hole in his carefully contrived life. Damn Amber for acting so bloody impulsively for the first time ever. It was just his luck that the one time his wife chose to step out of her comfort zone and do something spontaneous, it had to be this.

  Chapter 7

  Clara parked at the airport. She prided herself on her parking. In spite of Ava’s protests and constant comments about an eighty-year-old on the loose on the roads, she felt she was still very much in control of her life while she was mobile and independent.

  She was far too early. It was incredible to her that Nathalie was in the air, working her way through the clouds to see her.

  She wondered what Max was thinking. Had he been tempted to come too? She didn’t want to raise her own hopes, but there was a tiny little voice in the back of Clara’s head whispering that her son could possibly walk through those doors at arrivals this evening. Imagine what a reunion that would be.

  Quashing the thought, and tucking it into the recesses of her mind, she thought of the surprise she had at home, just in case. She’d baked Max’s favourite thing in the whole world as a boy … The old-fashioned cocoa-scented sponge her own mother used to make, lavished with thick chocolate butter icing, was waiting on a crystal stand in the kitchen.

  Clara smiled as she pictured Max as a tiny child and how he used to jump for joy when she announced they’d bake that very cake.

  ‘Can I lick the spoon, Mama?’ he’d beg.

  Although everyone longed to have the baking spoon, Ava often gave in to his demands. Being the youngest, he probably got away with more than she did. On speci
al occasions, such as birthdays or Christmas, both children would be allowed to eat chocolate cake for breakfast.

  ‘That’s so unhealthy,’ Gus would grumble.

  ‘Ah, it’s a special day, Dr Conway,’ Clara would say. ‘I don’t see anything wrong with it. In fact, this is the kind of thing memories are made of. We don’t necessarily recall grand gestures or huge expenditure when we’re older. It’s the quirky things, like cake for breakfast or spending a cold and wet day in front of the fire instead of going to school, that stay up here,’ Clara said, tapping her head. ‘The little concessions that make us feel as if we’re sidestepping conformity every once in a while!’

  This afternoon, as she’d folded the cocoa powder and flour into the rich chocolatey mixture, the delicious fudgy consistency had reminded her of times gone by. Dipping her finger in, she’d savoured the flavour as it evoked memories of better and less complicated times.

  ‘Köstlich,’ she’d said, in her mother tongue. ‘Just delicious,’ she’d repeated in English, nodding in approval. It was a long time since she’d spoken German properly but her accent was still unmistakable even after all these years. She wasn’t aware of it, of course, but she’d smiled when Amber had pointed it out on the phone.

  Sudden nerves washed over Clara as she found the arrivals area of the airport and sat down. She wondered how much Nathalie knew. Had Max told her everything? Had he told her a pack of lies? She’d lain awake the previous night thinking about it all.

  The truth of the matter was this. Clara had never told any of her children her entire life story. They knew she’d come from Austria at the end of the war. Of course Ava and Max had known and loved their Austrian grandparents as tots. But they had little or no knowledge of the events that had led the family to settle in Ireland in 1946.

  She hoped her granddaughter would like her home. Clara had only lived there for five years. She decided to put Nathalie in the room that offered a view of the sea from one window and the pretty rockery area of the garden from the other.