About Three Authors

by Patti Roberts

  She smiled, leaning into his kisses. Why was it that Roger had never made her feel so vulnerable, yet so protected and desired at the same time?

  “I don’t remember much sleeping going on,” she murmured, turning in his embrace to face him. She raised herself up on her toes to meet his lips. He had brushed his teeth, she noted, which made her self-conscious that she had not. She closed her eyes, burning the image of his face, the taste of his minty breath, and the feel of his body against hers, into her mind. She wanted to remember every detail of him – his touch, his feel, his smell, the sound of his breathing as he slept. The way his eyes sparkled when he smiled his crooked smile. The way she lost herself in him only to rediscover a better version of herself. It was as though they were the only two people alive in the universe, and she was seeing the world around her for the first time.

  She held her breath, fighting back tears. What if he was the only person in the world that could make her feel that way? What if she left, and never, ever, felt like this, ever again? The thought was too profound for her to comprehend. How could she just walk away, get on that plane in a few short hours, and just leave, never to feel his hands or his lips on hers ever again?

  “Look at me,” he whispered, feeling her body grow tense in his arms. “Do you regret this? Regret last night?”

  The frown on his forehead deepened with each second that she did not respond.

  She closed her eyes and held her breath. “I do.” She felt his arms fall away, and opened her eyes to see the hurt on his face.

  He stepped back from her and looked away, raking his fingers through his hair.

  Becky reached for his arm, but he jerked it away.

  “I do regret this,” Becky repeated, quickly brushing tears away with her fingertips. “But not for the reasons you think. I regret this because I have to leave. I have to leave you, and it feels like the biggest mistake I could ever make. What if you’re the one? The only one on this planet that makes me feel this way? What if you’ve spoiled me, and I never get to feel this way ever again?”

  Gary looked back at her, holding her gaze. “Then I regret this, too,” he said bitterly, turning his back on her, unable to look at her. A second later he turned back and pulled her into his arms. His hands clasped her face, and his lips found hers, soft and wanting. After a long moment he pulled away again, then swept Becky up into his arms, and carried her back into the cottage. “You know what? I don’t regret this, and I don’t regret you. I refuse to regret any of it. Whatever happens in the future, we had this, here, now, Becky Jensen. And I will never forget that. Ever.”

  Chapter 17

  Secrets Of The Heart.

  BECKY JENSEN’S FACEBOOK STATUS: Life is too short for regrets. I will regret nothing.

  Becky un-pegged the last of the clothes off the line, and folded them into the laundry basked just as Elise called out from the patio that lunch was ready. It was midday and the residue of clouds from lasts night’s storm trapped in the humidity. Being outside was like standing in a sauna fully clothed.

  The caterers and party planners had been busy rushing about in the heat, their faces flushed, as they took down the marquees, and stacked tables and chairs in the back of a truck. Everything was almost back to normal in the grounds of the retreat. Most of the overnight guests had either returned home, or were out sightseeing. Becky heaved the full laundry basket up onto her hip and walked to the patio. She sat the basket down on one of the sofas, her eyes migrating across the grass, and down to a male figure standing on the end of the sun-drenched jetty. She squinted for a better look, then felt her heart sink when she recognized the figure that belonged to one of last night’s guests. He was busy talking on his phone, his arms animating his conversation.

  On the patio, Polly was sitting at the table, reading a book.

  Becky picked up a pair of jeans from the basket. “I’ll just fold these things then-”

  “Nonsense,” Polly said, come eat some lunch first.” “Elise and Mallory are just putting a few leftovers together. We’ll eat out here on the patio. “Did that boy of mine cook you any breakfast?” She closed the book she’d been reading and put it down.

  Becky smiled at the mention of Gary’s name, then shook her head. They had been too busy exploring each other’s bodies to eat food, although she had eaten strawberries off his flat stomach, and wondered if that counted. Just as quickly though, the smile faded away, and tears began to pool in her eyes.

  Polly sighed, then stood up and put her arms around Becky. “You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

  Becky nodded into Polly’s shoulder.

  “Oh dear. I thought that might happen. I wish there was something I could say to make you feel better, but I know there’s nothing that would make a scrap of difference.”

  “Lunch is served. Help yourselves,” Mallory said as she walked out onto the patio. She paused, then walked slowly towards the table and set the tray of food down. “What’s happened?” she asked, catching Polly’s eye.

  “She’s in love,” Polly said. “She’s in love with Gary, and I imagine Gary is feeling the exact same way.”

  Elise joined them on the patio and put her arms around Becky and Polly, but said nothing. What words could she offer that could possibly make any difference to how Becky was feeling? She was her mother; shouldn’t she know what to say at a time like this? “Come and sit down, love. You’ll feel better after you’ve eaten something.” Elise cringed. The words sounded lame and pathetic as soon as she’d heard them tumble out of her mouth.

  “I agree. Let me pour you a nice cup of tea,” Mallory said, her own pearls of wisdom sounding just as useless as she said them.

  Becky pulled a chair out and sat down, taking the tissue that Elise handed her. She blew her nose. “Mum always used to say that a broken heart lets you know you are alive, when all you really want to do is lay down and die.”

  Elise nodded. “I can relate to that.” She would never have thought about saying something as profound as that. The best advice she had was to eat. Perhaps that was why she would have never made a good mother. Mothers had to say something profound when their children were hurting, not shove food down their throats.

  “A cup of tea sounds great,” Becky said. “But I’m not really hungry.”

  Elise nodded again. Of course. A nice cup of tea. She was obviously not cut out for motherhood at all. She imagined any children that she might have raised being overfed little Buddhas, always turning to food for comfort. Becky didn’t realize how lucky she had been, having Victoria for a mother. “You were very lucky to have such a wonderful mother,” Elise said, sitting down next to Becky. “I can only imagine how much you miss her, at times like this.”

  Mallory and Polly glanced at each other, both realizing that Elise had obviously decided not to tell Becky the truth before she returned home to London. Whether they agreed with Elise or not, they would, as promised, respect her decision.

  “How’s that cup of tea?” Mallory asked.

  Becky nodded. “Great. Thanks,” she replied with a weak smile.

  “Is Gary coming to the airport to see you off?” Polly asked.

  Becky shook her head, then stared into her cup of tea. “We said our goodbyes this morning. We thought that would be best.”

  “A clean break,” Elise said. “Yes. Probably best.” She looked at Polly, then shrugged her shoulders.

  Becky nodded, brushing fresh tears from her cheeks. “Yep. We both know long-distance relationships never work. They just prolong the inevitable.”

  Polly nodded. “That’s probably true. None of my long-distance relationships ever worked, no matter how sincere our intentions were at the beginning. No matter how many promises were made in the heat of the moment.”

  Mallory kicked Polly under the table.

  Polly cringed and glared back at her. Stop that, she mouthed.

  Elise nodded. “I can vouch for that.”

  Mallory shot Elise a narrowed-eyed glare
, but only because she was too far away to kick.

  “But it doesn’t mean that it won’t work out for the two of you,” Elise amended. “I’m sure lots of couples make long-distance relationships work.”

  Becky shook her head. “The distance is just too great. It’s unrealistic to think it could work. No. It’s better this way.”

  Elise stood up and began to pace back and forth. “But you haven’t really given yourselves a chance. Surely if you really have feelings for each other, you deserve to at least give it a go? You never know what might happen. You know the old saying. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  “Or wander,” Becky added.

  Mallory’s face lit up. “Did you know that the origin of the quote “absence makes the heart grow fonder” is unknown? And that the phrase was first published in a poem in 1602? The author was anonymous, and his, or her, identity remains unknown to this very day.”

  “Interesting,” Polly said. “But I don’t see how that helps right now, Mal.”

  Mallory shrugged. “I suppose not. But Elise is right, Becky. Maybe you should give it a go? You never know.”

  Becky finished her cup of tea, then stood up. “I know you all mean well, but I have to face the fact that it was what it was. A perfect holiday romance, nothing more.” She straightened up her shoulders. “I should get back to my packing, and get ready to go, but before I do, I just wanted to let you all know again that I’ve had the best time being here and getting to know you all. You have all been so wonderful, and last night was… just amazing…” Her voice trailed off as she thought about kissing Gary in the pouring rain, then fleeing the New Year’s Eve party in the speedboat, his white shirt sticking to his chest and broad shoulders, while the fireworks exploded above them. She took a breath, pushed her thoughts about Gary away, then went and hugged each woman. Her arms remained around Elise for a moment longer. “I loved our shopping trip together in Cairns yesterday, it was special. And thank you so much for the gown, you really shouldn’t have, but it is beautiful, so thank you, again.”

  Elise closed her eyes, her bottom lip trembling for just an instant. “I promise. It was the very least I could do for you. You came all this way, after all.”

  Becky straightened up her shoulders, blinking away tears. She drew in a long breath, composing herself. “Okay. No point putting it off any longer. Time to finish my packing and get ready.”

  Elise cleared her throat, wiping away her own tears, then began clearing the lunch dishes off the table with shaking hands.

  “What time do we have to leave to have you at the airport in time for your flight?” Polly asked, her hand resting on Elise’s. “You okay?” she whispered.

  Elise nodded.

  Becky looked at her watch. “My flight leaves in five and a half hours.”

  “Okay. That gives us a little wiggle room. We should be at the airport two hours before an international flight.” Polly tapped her watch, calculating the driving time from the Tablelands to the Cairns International airport. “If we leave here in about an hour and a half, let’s say, we will be there with plenty of time to spare for a nice cuppa.”

  “Have you arranged with Steve to pick you up at the other end?” Elise asked, following Polly into the kitchen with the stack of lunch plates, which had barely been touched.

  Becky lowered her eyes and picked up a pair of Elise’s jeans from the laundry basket. Folding them up, she set them down on top of a pile of folded clothes on the sofa. “A friend is picking me up,” she replied, stacking all the folded, clean clothes back into the laundry basket. She hitched the basket up onto her hip. “I’ll just go put these away, then finish packing. I’ll be back down soon.”

  “Alright, dear,” Mallory said, giving Becky a warm smile. She pushed the chairs in around the patio table.

  “I’ll just pop these clean clothes on the end of your beds,” Becky said, patting the top of the laundry basket. “I think I know what belongs to whom.”

  “I can do that,” Mallory replied, reaching for the basket.

  “That’s okay, I don’t mind. It’s on my way,” Becky said, then she stopped walking, and looked at Mallory. “What do you think the odds are, Mal? That a long-distance relationship could actually work?”

  Mallory looked pensive for a long moment, then smiled. “One in a million, dear, but don’t you see, you might be that one in a million.”

  Becky smiled. “I don’t think so, Mal, but thank you.” Lost in thought, Becky walked into the house, then moved slowly down the hallway towards the three bedroom apartment which the three authors shared. She put a couple of t-shirts on Mallory’s bed, smiling warmly at a wedding photograph of Mallory and Philip.

  Walking into Polly’s room, she placed a pair of shorts and socks on the end of the bed, a fresh pang of pain squeezing her heart, as she noticed a framed picture of Gary and Monty on her bedside table. “Stop it. Stop it,” she snapped, fighting back a fresh wave of tears. “You’re being stupid.”

  She pushed open the door to Elise’s bed, and squinted at a picture fame displaying three photographs sitting on Elise’s dresser. She put Elise’s folded clothes down on the end of the bed. Setting down the ironing basket on the floor, she walked slowly towards the dresser, her heart pumping louder in her ears with each footfall. She reached for the frame, picked it up, and then started at it for a long moment.

  Becky walked backwards until the back of her legs rested against the side of the bed. Her heart felt like a brick in her chest. Her mouth turned as dry as scorched desert sands. She sank down on the edge of the bed, the frame clutched tightly in her hand. She stared blankly into the eyes of a little girl sitting in a woman’s lap. The child was nursing a beautiful doll with long auburn hair. She ran her fingertips over the glass barrier. Another photo depicted a very young Elise in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby. The third photograph was of a little girl dressed for her first day at school.

  Shocked by the faces looking up at her, she turned the frame over with shaking hands, and began to read the inscription on the back, the blood draining slowly from her face.

  Dearest Elise. We can never thank you enough for our beautiful little girl. Becky is a precious little angel. She has filled our empty hearts and home with an abundance of happiness. We will be forever grateful to you. We know how hard this was for you. Rest assured that we will treasure her always. With heartfelt love, Victoria and William. PS. I will keep you updated with letters and photographs on a monthly basis.

  Becky pulled open the top draw on Elise’s bedside table. Inside, the draw was filled with hundreds of letters and photographs, all depicting pictures of herself at various ages.

  The icy hand of realization slapped Becky hard across the face. Victoria, the woman whom she had loved and looked up to for her entire life, wasn’t her real mother. She shoved the draw closed.

  “Elise is my real mother,” she breathed, her heart racing to keep up. The next four words swam in her head like a circling shark. Who is my father?

  She put the picture frame down on the bed to try to think, try to make sense of the enormity of the situation. Then something else on Elise’s bedside table caught her eye. An old book. The Poetry of Robert Frost: The Collected Poems, Complete and Unabridged.

  Becky reached across and picked up the book and turned the first few pages. She stopped at a page bookmarked with a pressed dandelion and an inscription which read, The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep.

  Now Becky remembered where she had seen the book before, and why the Author’s name had sounded so familiar to her. Uncle Steve carried the exact same book in his old leather satchel, and he had read passages from the book to her when she was a little girl, before she had discovered Enid Blyton. The leather satchel and the book went everywhere with him. It was just an old book of poetry… Was Uncle Steve her father? His words played over and over in his head. “I didn’t need kids. I always had you.”

 
Becky closed the book and put it back on the bedside table. Her throat dry, she snatched her clothes up out of the laundry basket and ran upstairs, her thoughts racing ahead of her. Is Uncle Steve my father? “Don’t be ridiculous,” she hissed, chastising herself. Uncle Steve would never lie to me, would he? Her head reeled as more questions and thoughts filled every crevice of her mind. Thousands of people own a copy of that book. The book means nothing. It’s just a coincidence.

  Once she was in her room, Becky closed the door quietly behind her. She quickly stripped out of her clothing and showered, the hot water turning her clammy skin pink. After she finished dressing and packing, she checked the bathroom and the bedroom once again, making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

  Did Mum and Dad keep the secret of who I really am from Uncle Steve, too, she wondered. Was that even possible? It was inconceivable that Uncle Steve would have lied to her for all these years. But was it, really? Her parents had lied to her, so why not Uncle Steve as well?

  Picking up the mobile phone Polly had given her to use, Becky thought about calling Gary to take her to the airport, until a new thought occurred to her. What if he knew the truth about Elise being her real mother? What if he had lied to her, too?

  “Arrrrr. I can’t deal with any of this right now.” She went through the phone and cleared all of the messages, then rang a taxi. She had to get back home to London where she could think straight.

  From the moment she’d been born, she’d been lied to. She had been given away like an unwanted gift. Unwanted. Given away. The words swam around in her head. Her entire life had been one lie after another. Had anyone ever told her the truth? Had anyone ever tried? She needed her Uncle Steve; he would know what to do. She looked at the time on the wall clock. It was in the middle of the night in London. She would have to wait until she got home. Uncle Steve would tell her the truth, if he knew what the truth was. She sat the mobile phone back down on the bed, then looked under the bed. No Little Miss. She would not have the opportunity to say goodbye.