by Sarah Morgan
Hannah wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it now. “What is there to talk about?”
Suzanne reached for a bottle of olive oil. “He wasn’t an easy man. I hated that you felt you had to try so hard to win his love. You had so many special gifts, and because of him you never valued them. It upset me. Cheryl and I had more than one fight about it.”
That was news to Hannah. “I didn’t know that.”
“I hoped it would change. Maybe it would have done, who knows. But when they died in that horribly sudden, tragic way, I was worried that you’d somehow be left with this feeling that you weren’t enough. Seeing you wary about people, believing it was safer to keep your distance, almost broke my heart. I wanted to wrap you up and keep you safe, but the damage was done and you wouldn’t let me close.”
Hannah felt something stir inside her. “Mom and Dad dumped us with you. You and Stewart were young—you had your whole lives ahead of you and then out of nowhere you suddenly had three children. All your own plans, dreams, adventures went out of the window.” She’d never voiced any of this before. “There must have been so many things you wanted to do that you were never able to do because of us. You had to move because you needed help from Stewart’s family, and you never had kids of your own because of us. You gave us so much and I gave you nothing back.” And the guilt was always there.
“Having you was a gift. Don’t ever doubt that.” Suzanne wiped her hands and sat down on the chair next to Hannah. “The truth is, I envied Cheryl her three girls. The three of you were everything I would have wanted in my life. When she died, a part of me felt guilty because I got to have you and she didn’t. I was determined to be the best mother possible. Not because I felt I owed it to her, but because that’s what I wanted. I wanted to protect you, and see you with the confidence to hand out your love again, knowing it would be valued and accepted. I wanted you to trust someone and feel close to them.”
“I trust you, Suzanne.” Emotion built inside her, pushing past the barriers she used to keep it inside. “I’ve always trusted you.”
The back door rattled and they both glanced up hopefully, but it was just the wind.
Suzanne glanced at Hannah. “You said that I felt a responsibility and I did, of course. Anyone would in those circumstances. You suffered a shocking bereavement and I was terrified of doing something that would make things worse for you. I couldn’t give you your mother back, so I tried to do the next best thing, which was to do things the way I thought she would have done them. At the beginning I was always asking myself, What would Cheryl do? I felt as if she was hanging over my shoulder, watching me. I could hear her voice saying, Relax, Suz, you’re too uptight. That voice drove me crazy, and I drove Stewart crazy. He used to tell me that we had to do it our way, that if you were going to be our kids, then we had to raise you as our kids. We had to decide what was right and how we wanted to do that. I felt out of my depth. Most parents have a chance to prepare, but we became parents overnight. It was less a steep learning curve and more a vertical cliff face.”
Hannah thought about how terrified she was about her ability to be a good parent. How much harder would it be to inherit three traumatized children?
“You could have put us up for adoption. You didn’t have to put yourself through that.”
“It never occurred to me not to take you in. You needed security. I never had security growing up, and it was a horrible feeling. I was never sure that the ground I was standing on wasn’t going to give way. I was never sure of anything until I met Cheryl. And then Stewart. I wanted you to know that no matter what, Stewart and I would always be here for you.”
“I’ve always known that.” But this was the first time she’d acknowledged it.
She knew there had been times when she’d been difficult to handle. When she’d given nothing back. Last year she hadn’t turned up for Christmas at all. And had Suzanne and Stewart made her feel guilty about that? No. They’d been loving and accepting in the same way they always had.
“It became easier over the years,” Suzanne said. “I decided that there was more than one way of being a good mother. Maybe I wasn’t doing it the way Cheryl would have done it, but I was doing it the way I thought was right. You were my girls. And occasionally I would feel guilty, because I got to have this wonderful family that Cheryl couldn’t enjoy.”
“Was it hard moving to Scotland?” It was something else she’d often wondered.
“No. It was the best thing we could have done. Back home, everyone knew about Cheryl and Rob. You were ‘those poor children.’ If we’d stayed, you never would have had a chance to move away from that. The accident would have hung round your necks, and mine. I could see people wondering if I was the reason they died. I asked myself that same question a million times. I didn’t need other people asking it, too. Stewart said we were moving so that he could be close to his parents and they could get involved, but he also did it so that we could have a fresh start.”
Hannah had always known they’d made a sacrifice. What she hadn’t thought about was how brave they’d been. Suzanne’s honesty about the problems they’d faced was humbling.
“I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you properly for everything you’ve done. I’m grateful, I really am.”
She should have said it before. She should have told them every single day how wonderful they were.
“Oh, honey, I know. You’re a smart, strong, wonderful woman and I’m so proud of you.” She squeezed Hannah’s hand. “I’m always here, if you need me. I hope you know that.”
Hannah realized that her mother—and she did think of her as her mother—always put her family before herself. “Has it upset you, talking to Luke?”
“Quite the opposite. He’s living a good life. It does me good to know that. It does me good to know he still goes into the mountains, that he doesn’t blame me for his parents’ death. He carries the past, of course, but it hasn’t shaped him.”
It had shaped her, Hannah thought. She’d let it shape her. She’d let it dominate her choices. Not just the accident, but her relationship with her father.
That was going to change. She didn’t know anything about raising a child, but she knew she didn’t want it to be afraid of the world. Protecting yourself locked out hurt some of the time, but it locked out the good stuff, too.
“It’s good to be home, Mom.” She felt relaxed and comfortable in a way that she never had before.
There was a sheen in Suzanne’s eyes. “It’s good having you home.” She cleared her throat and stood up. “Why don’t I make us some tea? It’s going to be a long night. I thought I’d do homemade pizza for the children. They can help with the toppings. That will occupy them for a while.”
“I’ll sort out toppings.” Hannah went to the fridge and pulled out cheese, olives, mushrooms and ham.
“If you chop them up and put them in bowls, that would be great. Ruby loves putting them on the pizza herself.”
Hannah found a knife and a chopping board. She’d never done this before, worked side by side in the kitchen with her mother.
“You’re probably wondering about Adam.” Hannah sliced ham and dropped it into one of the bowls. “I haven’t mentioned him because I—well, my relationships don’t usually work out, and then I feel bad that I’ve disappointed you.”
“Disappointed me?” Suzanne abandoned the dough. “You could never disappoint me. I hope I’ve made that clear tonight.”
“I know it’s what you want for me.”
“All I want is for you to be happy. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Suzanne brushed the flour from her hands. “I want you to have the best life possible.”
Hannah smiled. “You want me to be married with ten kids.”
“That’s not true.” Suzanne smiled, too. “Well, maybe it’s a little true. Ten kids might be a few too many. For what it’s worth, I like Adam. He
was prepared to take a chance. I like a man who isn’t afraid to take a risk for love. It suggests a certain boldness, and I admire that.”
She admired it, too. Maybe she’d even find inspiration in it.
“I’m pregnant, Mom.” She looked for surprise in Suzanne’s face and didn’t see it. “You knew? I told Dad, I assumed he’d—”
“Your dad would never discuss anything the two of you talked about in private.”
“Then how—”
“I heard you being sick. Posy closed the door and started hollering Christmas carols. Lord knows I love your sister, but I don’t love her singing, and given that I’m pretty sure she wasn’t doing it for my entertainment, I’m assuming she knows, too.”
“She took me to buy a test when I arrived. I should have told you first.” And now she wished she had. She wished she’d asked advice instead of keeping everything to herself. “I haven’t told Adam. I’m still figuring out how best to do that.”
Suzanne nodded. “You’re the smartest person I know. You’ll work it out. And if you need to talk, I’m here. I’m pleased you felt able to talk to your sister and your dad.”
Thinking about her dad made her check the time. “Is it worth calling them?”
Beth clearly had the same thought, because she walked into the kitchen looking anxious. “Should we call Dad and Posy?”
Suzanne shook her head. “Dad will call when he can. I don’t want to take his mind off the job.”
Beth sat down on the nearest chair. “I hate thinking of them out in this storm. I don’t know how you stand it. I’m trying not to catastrophize, but it’s not easy.” She picked a piece of ham out of the bowl and nibbled on it. “You two are looking serious. Were you talking about Dad?”
Suzanne said nothing and Hannah knew she was leaving the decision on how much to say up to her.
She sat down, too. She didn’t know how she was going to do this, but she knew she didn’t want to do it alone. “I’m pregnant.”
Beth gasped. “You are? That’s wonderful. When did you find out? Why didn’t you tell me?”
Hannah flushed. “Because you think I’m terrible with children, and right now I don’t need another blow to my confidence.”
“I do not think that.” Beth looked horrified and then contrite. “This is because I overreacted about Ruby and the Santa thing? That is nothing to do with you, and everything to do with my neurotic nature. I’m sorry for being so irritable. Forgive me. How are you feeling?”
“I feel fine.” It felt strange to finally talk about it. “A little sick, but that might be psychological. A little tired, but that’s probably because I don’t sleep well.”
“Is Adam pleased?”
“He doesn’t know. I haven’t told him yet.” She waited for Beth to tell her all the reasons why she should do so immediately, but Beth didn’t.
Instead she nodded. “The tiredness could be because of the pregnancy. I remember when I was expecting Melly, I was exhausted from about seven weeks. And I was working then, of course, as you are. That makes it tougher. I used to fall asleep on the sofa every day when I got in from work. Jason used to have to wake me up to eat dinner. It was grim. Then it passed and I was really energetic for a few months, until right at the end.”
“I remember that.” Suzanne put mugs of tea in front of them. “You used to call me and talk about it.”
Hannah cupped her hands around the mug. “You think it will pass?”
“I’m sure it will. For me it was around thirteen weeks, I think.” Beth frowned. “Or maybe it was twelve. It’s hard to remember. I’m going to email you the details of my doctor, because she was brilliant. You don’t want them to do a ton of tests you don’t need.”
She hadn’t even got as far as thinking about doctors or tests.
She felt a little overwhelmed by how much she didn’t know, then realized that Beth seemed to know all of it.
“I’ll swap you career coaching for baby advice.”
Beth grinned. “Done.”
“Do you have books you can lend me?”
“Yes, but I’ve read them all and had two kids, so you can just ask me. The only thing I can’t help you with is how not to worry. You’re on your own with that. You’re going to be a brilliant mother, Hannah. There’s never been anything you’re not good at.”
“Climbing.” Hannah gave a faint smile. “I’m terrible at climbing.”
“Me, too.” Beth stole an olive from the bowl. “And it’s hell on the nails.”
Suzanne laughed. “It was the helmet you used to hate most. Made a mess of your hair.”
Beth stroked her smooth, silky hair. “It’s all about priorities. I like to look my best, and I don’t look my best when I’m hanging from a rock screaming with fear.” She leaned forward. “If you need company for your first appointment, call me. I’ll come with you.”
That offer melted the last of Hannah’s reserve.
Whatever had made her think she had to handle this alone?
Whatever happened with Adam, she had her sister. Both her sisters. She had her family.
“Thank you.”
“I should be the one thanking you! I can’t believe Ruby and Melly are going to have a cousin. And Jason will be a very engaged uncle, which should satisfy his need for another baby in the family. Hold that thought.” She glanced toward the door. “I hear the patter of not so tiny feet.”
Seconds later, Melly came into the room clutching Betsy, Beth’s ancient doll.
“I don’t like the wind, Grandma. Will the roof blow off? Will it be like the Wizard of Oz?”
“No, honey. Stay in the kitchen. It’s not as loud in here. Do you want to make pizza with us?”
Ruby trailed into the kitchen after her sister. “I want a cuddle.” But instead of going to Beth, she went to Hannah.
Hannah hesitated and then bent and scooped her up.
She rubbed Ruby’s back and talked to her, remembering all the times she’d done the same thing with Posy.
Suzanne was right. There was more than one way of being a good mother.
She just had to find the way that worked for her.
She wasn’t going to let the past shape her future.
In the morning, she was going to talk to Adam.
She’d waited long enough.
27
Posy
Posy arrived back at 3:00 a.m., cold and tired.
She stripped off her outdoor gear, crawled on top of her bed and fell asleep with the rest of her clothes on. She slept like the dead, unmoving, and then woke again at eight, freezing cold and aching all over. Bonnie was still curled up asleep, snuggled in the remains of the heat from the log burner.
Dragging herself to the shower, Posy stepped under the scalding jets and tried to warm herself. She had a massive bruise on her thigh where she’d slipped and fallen, and a graze on her cheek from a rock that had been dislodged by someone’s foot and made contact with her face.
She stepped out of the shower and examined herself in the mirror.
She looked a mess. If she borrowed some of Beth’s makeup, she might be able to hide it from her mother.
Bonnie padded over to her and gave her a worried tail wag.
“Don’t you start. And you don’t look so great yourself, by the way,” Posy told her. “Definitely a bad hair day.”
It had been a long and difficult rescue, with the weather some of the worst she’d experienced.
She pulled on a warm, dry sweater and was drying her hair when there was a knock on the door.
“You can come in. You don’t usually wait to be invited.” She’d expected Luke, but it was Hannah.
Her heart plummeted.
They hadn’t spoken properly since Hannah had yelled at her.
Did they have to do this now?
&nbs
p; Yes, she felt guilty, but she didn’t have the energy to take a pummeling from her sister. She was physically and mentally exhausted.
On the other hand, she’d done the wrong thing. Hannah was having a rough time, and she’d inadvertently made things harder.
She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and took a closer look at her sister. “You look tired. Late night?”
“I went to bed at the same time you did.”
“What?” Posy pulled her damp hair into a ponytail. “Why?”
“I kept Mom company until you both came home.”
Mom.
Posy wondered if her sister realized what she’d said. “That was nice of you.”
Hannah was shivering. “Posy—”
“Is this about Luke? Are you and Beth staging an intervention?”
“No, I—”
“If it’s not Luke, then that means you’ve come because you still blame me for the fact Adam is here.”
“That isn’t—” Hannah glanced at Posy’s bare legs and gasped. “Your leg is purple. What happened?”
“I fell. It happens. Don’t tell Mom or she’ll worry, and don’t tell the rest of the team or they’ll laugh.”
“Shouldn’t you go to the emergency department?”
“It’s a bruise.” Posy opened the door wider. “Come in, before it turns into a bruise and frostbite.”
“Have you put ice on it?” Horror on her face, Hannah hurried to the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen peas and wrapped it in a towel. “Press this against it.”
“Like I’m not cold enough already. And since when have you been a first aid expert?” But she was touched and more than a little relieved that her sister no longer seemed to be angry with her. She pressed the peas to her leg. “I owe you an apology. I was going to talk to you yesterday, but we were called out before I could get you alone. Did you seriously stay up with Mom?”
“Yes. Neither of us could sleep, so we sat by the fire and talked for ages, about everything. It was cozy.” She rubbed her arms and Posy put the peas down.
