He only had a private mobile number, which he never answered if he didn’t know the number calling. Any mail from her was immediately thrown out without opening.
Seeing it from that angle, he could understand their decision. But it still stung.
‘So what now?’ he asked.
Dean cleared his throat. ‘Sam, I’m eighty-seven years old. Fenella is eighty-one. Realistically, we don’t have a lot of time left. Olivia doesn’t have anyone else. All my family are gone. We only had the one child. As difficult as the decision has been for us—’
‘Soul destroying,’ Fenella whispered.
‘—we also know we have to be realistic. Olivia needs a stable home. With family. You are her family, Sam. We’re too old. We can’t give her the life she needs. A life you could give her.’
He shook his head; he understood the words, but he wasn’t allowing them to sink in. ‘You want me to—’
‘It’s not so much even a matter of want. She needs you. You’re her father and she is your responsibility.’
Sam drew a deep breath in, let it out. ‘Don’t lecture me about fucking responsibility when I was never even told—’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ Dean snapped. ‘I understand why you haven’t been around. And that is not at all your fault. All I’m saying is that this isn’t a choice for you. We’re out of options. We’ve done our best over the last eight months, but we are getting to an age where we are struggling to take care of ourselves. I’ve lost my driver’s licence. I can’t even get …’ he stopped when his words were cracked by emotion. ‘I can’t get her to school anymore.’
Sam understood what it took for a man to admit to his weaknesses. That was big for Dean. The immensity of this situation was right there in Dean’s eyes, in the tremble of his chin.
Sam rubbed his forehead and nodded. This was not an ideal situation. Sam was not prepared to be a full-time parent to a six-year-old girl, who, eight months ago, had lost her mother. He had no idea about schooling, what children ate, what kids wore, how to do hair, bedtime, homework, play time … nothing.
But he had no choice. If he was the father, even if he wasn’t, he could see that the best home for Olivia would not be with Mr and Mrs Talbot.
Was Sam the best option, though?
He was the only option.
‘Oh, God, how am I going to do this?’ he asked, more to himself than to the Talbots.
Fenella said, ‘We know this is very sudden and difficult. But, I promise you, nobody is given a manual on how to raise children. Just do your best, that’s all you can do. And I’m always a phone call away. You can come visit us on weekends. Or we can come and stay with you during school holidays.’ Her face was tense, lips trembling from the strain of keeping emotion at bay.
‘When do we start this?’ Sam asked.
‘That’s up to you,’ Fenella said. ‘We would like you to meet her tomorrow. Perhaps spend the weekend with her, just so you can get to know each other. Then when you’re ready, you could come and collect her things. There’s not a lot. Just clothes and her school things. A few sentimental possessions of Tamara’s. You might want Olivia’s desk and bed. I’m sure you probably don’t have those types of necessities.’
‘I’m open to meeting her. But I still want to get the DNA test before I make a final commitment.’
Dean sighed. ‘Fine. But, she’s yours. When you meet her tomorrow, you’ll know it too.’
‘Does she know about me?’
Fenella nodded. ‘Tamara talked about you often to her. Always age-appropriate information of course.’
‘So she knows about me?’ he whispered.
‘Yes,’ Dean said.
‘My name and what I do?’
‘Yes.’
‘Has she ever wanted to meet me?’
Fenella frowned. ‘Yes.’
‘And what was she told?’
The Talbots looked at each other, then Fenella said, ‘That one day she could when the time was right.’
‘And now’s that time,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
The room was thick with emotion and tension as though they were sitting among the fallout from a blast. Despite the stress coating everything, leaching into Sam’s bloodstream, he managed to organise a time to meet at the hotel tomorrow.
Sam would spend the day and night with Olivia, then he would drop her back Sunday morning. They would reassess everything then.
Friends had driven the Talbots here from Melbourne and were looking after Olivia at the moment. Driving the Talbots back to the hotel was the easiest option. He didn’t linger after they climbed out of the car, too afraid he’d see Olivia in the flesh. He wasn’t ready yet to confront his past face to face. He wanted tonight to come to terms with it.
Chapter 27
Sam paced the living room floor of his home, agitation surging through him. If Sam didn’t speak to someone about all this, he would explode. He marched out into the night, jumped in his car. On his way across the property, he called Mitch and told him to head over to Tom’s. Then he rang Tom to say he was coming over.
He couldn’t expect to bring Olivia here tomorrow without explaining the matter to his brothers.
Amy was already at the front door when Sam arrived, her eyes wide.
‘What’s the matter?’ she asked.
Sam slid inside into the warmth of their home. ‘Let’s just wait until Mitch gets here. Save repeating myself.’
Amy nodded. ‘Tom’s in the living room. You want a wine?’
‘I’ll have a scotch. Neat. And if you have a Valium, I’ll take one of those too.’ He was exaggerating, of course.
Amy assessed him, then said, ‘It’s that bad?’
Sam rubbed his hand down his face, over his jaw, but didn’t say anything.
‘Go sit down. I’ll bring your drink out.’
Tom jumped to his feet when he saw Sam. ‘What’s up, mate? You sounded frantic on the phone.’
‘Let’s just wait for Mitch. So I can tell you all at once.’
‘No-one’s hurt? Ellie’s okay?’
‘Everyone’s fine,’ he said impatiently. God. Where was Amy with this drink? Where was Mitch? He took a seat, sitting right on the edge, body upright.
‘You’re white as a sheet,’ Tom said, sitting across from him.
He felt like a sheet too, one that had been soaking in bleach and left at the bottom of a washing machine after the spin cycle.
Mitch arrived. His eyebrows were lowered, lips drawn into a grim line. ‘What’s going on?’
Amy came in with a tray of drinks, offering an opportunity for Sam not to answer.
‘Is this about Tamara’s parents?’ Mitch asked.
‘Take a seat, and I’ll explain.’
Mitch grabbed a glass of wine off the tray and sat next to Sam.
‘Tamara’s parents were here?’ Amy asked. ‘I didn’t know that.’
Sam reached for his glass of scotch. He swallowed a mouthful; the liquid burned down his throat. When everyone was seated, he downed the remainder of the nip, then poured himself another. The room was eerily silent, only the unheard noise of expectation crashing around them.
‘Yes, this is about Tamara’s parents.’ The emotions of the sudden news teased up his throat, so he swallowed them down. He chased it with another mouthful of scotch, blowing out a long burning breath, his face twisting as the warm liquid went down his throat. ‘Turns out, I have a six-year-old daughter to Tamara that she hadn’t told me about.’
Amy gasped, hand flying to her chest.
‘You what?’ Mitch asked, voice booming.
Sam swallowed the remainder of scotch. ‘Yep.’
‘Is it true?’ Tom asked.
Sam shrugged. ‘I can’t be one hundred percent sure.’ He took out the notebook of photos and handed them to Mitch. ‘Take a look. She’s the spitting image of Sophie. It’s hard to deny that she’s mine.’
Amy rushed to Mitch’s side and looked over his sho
ulder as he flipped through the photos. ‘Holy shit. She is definitely yours.’
Sam rolled his head from side to side cracking his neck.
‘And they’re telling you now, why?’ Tom asked, stretching across the space between the lounges and taking the album from Mitch’s outstretched hand.
‘Because Tamara died. Her parents are ancient. They can’t look after her.’
‘They need you to take her?’ Amy asked, moving around to Tom’s side now, looking again at the photos.
Sam nodded. ‘There’s no-one else.’
‘Holy fucking hell,’ Tom said, with shock but also with a slight grin on his face. ‘I can’t believe this. You have a daughter.’
Sam scrubbed a hand through his hair. ‘I’m the world’s biggest fuck up. How am I going to be a responsible parent?’
‘You’re not a fuck-up,’ Mitch said angrily. ‘You’ve got a good set-up. Your own house. Financially independent.’
‘You’re kind and loving,’ Amy added. ‘I see how patient you are with Sophie. I think you’ll be a great dad.’
‘What if I fuck her up? What if I damage her mentally?’
Mitch laughed and slapped his back. ‘Welcome to fatherhood. The biggest guilt trip on the planet.’
‘You’re not helping,’ Sam said looking at him out the corner of his eye.
Mitch laughed again. ‘Sorry, mate, I think I’m in shock. A bit delirious.’
Tom stood. ‘Me too.’ He held his hands out. ‘I’m shaking.’
Tears filled Sam’s eyes. He hated he was showing these emotions. ‘I’m fucking scared. I’m not ready for this. Not a ready-made six-year-old girl. Maybe if she were a boy, I can kick the football around with him. But a girl.’
Amy’s eyes were sparkling with tears too. She smiled warmly. ‘Just like we were with Sophie, we are here to help you. In any way you need. No way we’ll leave you to do this on your own.’
Sam closed his eyes, lowered his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. One thing he could say about his family was when the going was tough, they banded together, unbreakable.
‘Thanks,’ he whispered.
‘Have you met her?’ Tom asked. ‘What’s her name?’
‘Olivia Maree. And, no, I haven’t met her. I will tomorrow.’
‘Pretty name,’ Amy said.
‘Do you need us to come with you to meet her?’ Mitch asked.
‘I’ve got to go pick her up tomorrow from in town. The Talbots are staying at the Best Western. I’d like to pick her up alone so we can have a chat first. But, if you could come around at lunchtime? We could have a family lunch.’
Amy nodded. ‘We could have lunch here if you like?’
He shook his head. ‘I think it best to keep things simple. I don’t want to freak her out with too many strange places.’
‘You’re thinking like a father already,’ Mitch said.
‘How’s that?’ Sam asked.
‘Worrying about her well-being. Trying to do what’s best for her. You’ll be fine, mate. Sure, it will take some adjustment, but we’ll get there.’
‘What did Ellie say?’ Tom asked.
Sam went silent, lowered his gaze.
‘Have you told her?’ Amy asked.
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. I need to get my own head around it first.’
‘What do you reckon she’ll think about it all?’
Sam blew out a long breath. ‘I have no idea.’
Sam arrived at the Best Western at nine-thirty. His head was aching from a slight hangover. All night he barely slept, his thoughts running wild, casting up all types of scenarios.
Would Olivia be comfortable with him? Could he ever think of himself as her father? Would she think of him as her dad? Call him Dad?
His heart was racing like a bullet train. His mouth was dry. No way was he ready for this, but a strange driving force was propelling him forward. His heart wanted to know Oliva’s heart.
He parked and climbed out of his car. They were staying at number twenty-one. He strode along the closed, numbered doors until he was standing outside the one he needed.
He stared at the metallic twenty-one screwed onto the navy blue door. A six-year-old girl called Olivia was on the other side.
His daughter.
His gut was knotting with nerves as he knocked.
It took ages for Fenella to answer the door. But when she did, she was smiling in that way he saw adults do where they were trying to convey to children that the situation was supposed to be seen as a happy situation.
Was this a happy situation? He couldn’t determine if it were or not. He was filled with a curdling mixture of nerves, curiosity, and an undercurrent of sadness.
The situation felt a little too devastating for his liking. This little girl’s mum committed suicide. She had been existing with aged grandparents who were incapable of continuing to care for her.
And now they were handing her over to him. A man, who until yesterday, didn’t know of her existence.
‘Good morning, Sam.’
‘Morning,’ he said, offered the most strained smile he’d ever managed.
She gestured he come inside. ‘Let me introduce you to Olivia.’
He inhaled a deep breath, mustering his courage, and stepped through the door.
Chapter 28
Two days. Three unanswered calls. Four messages. And no answer. Ellie’s nerves were strung tightly like stretched elastic. Maybe Sam had gone out somewhere in his car and had an accident. It was freezing out there, the roads lined with frost.
She would try one final message and if she heard nothing, she’d try Amy. Then maybe the police.
ELLIE: Sam, I’m now worried about you. Please, if you get this, let me know.
She waited for ten minutes, trying to distract herself by making breakfast—raisin toast with Nutella. When her phone chimed, her heart nearly burst through her chest. She rushed for it, snapped it up from the bench and read the message. It was from Sam.
SAM: I’d appreciate it if you could give me some space for a while.
Ellie shook her head. What? She re-read the message to make sure she understood it properly. Her stomach was swirling with a sickening sensation that was slowly working its way up her throat. She clicked her phone off and placed it on the bench.
He wanted space. Why?
But she didn’t really need to ask why because she had an inkling as to the answer. He had had time to think about what she told him, and he’d realised he didn’t want to be in a relationship with her. He’d slept with her, got what he wanted, and this was a great excuse to get out of it.
She breathed in deeply a couple of times, trying to calm the storm that was brewing inside her. Think rationally, Ellie. There might be something going on.
She eyed her phone, reached for it, and typed back a message.
ELLIE: Of course. If you need space, I’ll give it. Are you able to tell me why, so I’m not worrying about you?
SAM: Things have changed. I think it’s best we end our relationship here.
Ellie could barely breathe. Was she reading this right? He wanted to end the relationship.
ELLIE: Why?
She waited and waited, staring at the phone, but no answer came back. She screamed at the silent, black screen, ‘Just answer me!’
She called his number. No answer, straight to message bank.
How did she ever think Sam was different from every other arsehole man on the planet? With shaking hands, she messaged him.
ELLIE: Who breaks up via text? You gutless, heartless piece of shit excuse for a man.
Harsh? Maybe a little.
Her heart was racing, breaths shallow. She could not believe she was back here again.
Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. No way. No bloody way on God’s Earth was she going to cry. Never again. No man was worth her tears, her anger.
Sam would not break her. No matter how inconsiderate and heartless he was. No matter how hear
tbroken she felt.
She made a promise to herself a year ago; she would never let a man destroy her again. And Sam would not be the one to make her break her promise, no matter how much she thought she liked him.
If he wanted to end it, then it ended. She had learned enough over the last year about herself, about her strength, that she needn’t feel as though the world was ending because a relationship had.
No, her face was still inclined to the sun, it just so happened that Sam would no longer be beside her as she looked.
Of course she was sad, disappointed, incredulous, but those emotions didn’t have to get the best of her.
But did he respect her so little that he couldn’t even give her an explanation? It all just felt totally out of character. At the least, the character he had shown to her he was. For all she knew, he could be behaving how he did before they met. Maybe breaking up with a woman via text was typical.
How could she have got it totally wrong with Sam?
Ellie was determined not to sit around and mope. She’d already sacrificed so much of her happiness for men. No more. Life would and could go on without him.
After a quick shower, Ellie checked the entertainment guide for the local region on her iPad. In the middle of winter, options were slim, but there was an indoor market a couple of towns over, followed by live entertainment in the evening.
That’s what she would do.
During her drive to the next province, Wattle Hill, snow fell heavily. Ellie was not used to driving in these conditions at all. She had taken all the precautions necessary—getting new tyres with the required tread, but it still made her nervous.
By the time she arrived at the markets and parked, her chest was tight with anxiety. All through her body was an undercurrent of melancholy, despite her best efforts to keep it at bay.
She really liked Sam and was actually starting to see a future with him. To have that dream deflated with a single prick (pun not intended) had left her flat and thin like a discarded piece of paper.
The Sweetest Secret Page 23
