Did she really love him or was he someone she could cling to as she navigated her way through San Francisco? She is tending more towards the latter.
‘Please, tell me you’ll think about it,” he pleads.
She squeezes her eyes shut and waits for a heartbeat. Now is her moment to tell him about the baby.
But the moment passes.
She opens her eyes and peers at her hands as they still grip the steering wheel. “I’m sorry. But it’s over. Bye, Ben.”
He sighs heavily. “It was worth a shot,” he says and hangs up.
Pia turns the engine off and sits there for a long moment. No, she didn’t love Ben, not in a romantic sense, but she did care deeply for him. Receiving a phone call like that and hearing the tremulousness of his voice has ignited her sympathy. But sympathy is not a reason to make the wrong decision.
He will get over her and move on. And she will do the same, hopefully never having to reveal that his baby grows inside her womb.
What is that old proverb: what you don’t know won’t hurt you? Her fingers are crossed that for Ben, it’s true in this case.
She climbs from the car and strides towards the house. Her baby purchases, wrapped in an opaque shopping bag, are bundled under her arm. She makes it upstairs to her room and hides the new bags in her empty suitcase that is temporarily living under her bed. Best not leave them out in the open in case a snooping nose finds them.
After a quick bathroom stop and a big glass of water, she heads out back to see the progress of her apartment. Luca has been working non-stop, including Saturdays, to get it done as quickly as possible. She admires his work-ethic and all-round general kindness to her and every member of her family, particularly Nan, very much.
Ben, when interacting with others, had an air of inauthenticity. Luca doesn’t seem to possess a single disingenuous bone in his body.
As she nears the shed, a lightness eases through her limbs. She hadn’t realised how much the indecision to tell Ben about this baby has been weighing her down.
Now she’ll have to tell Dad about her final decision and hope that he can support her. She stops as she slams into a wave of dread. She presses a hand to her head. “Mum knows,” she whispers. That’s why she was so upset the other morning after getting off the phone from Dad.
Shit! She had forgotten to tell Dad to keep the news under wraps until she has told the rest of the family.
“You’re as white as a ghost.”
Luca.
She can’t even force a smile because knowing her mother, Pia will never be able to live this down. There will be guilt trips for centuries to come. “I realised something that Mum’s going to go batshit bonkers over.”
Luca laughs. “I like that. Batshit bonkers.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t know my mother. Melodramatic is an understatement.”
He chuckles again. “I’m sure after all this time, you’ve learnt methods of managing her.”
Pia purses her lips and shakes her head. “Managing my mother is impossible.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“I’d rather not if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.”
“I thought I’d check on your progress,” she says.
He smiles “You’ll be happy about yours. It’s beginning to take shape.” He nods to her apartment, which is the first in line, and starts towards it. She follows.
Inside all the framework has been hung along the ceiling space and the internal walls. “We’ve had to reinforce the outer walls to meet Council structural requirements, so, unfortunately, we’ll have to cover them up. Which wasn’t in the original plans.”
“That’s such a shame. I really liked the idea of some of the old brickwork still on show.”
“I know. But not much can be done about it. I’ve spoken to Mary.”
“And?”
“She understands there is no other option. But, other than that, it’s coming along well. I’d say another three months and you’ll all be able to move in.”
She smiles. “That’s fantastic. I probably should start looking at furniture.”
“There’s a great antique store here in town if you want to pick up some original pieces.”
“I’d love to take a look.”
“We can go together if you like. Tomorrow afternoon when I’m finished here?”
She peers into his warm brown eyes and her attention drifts to his mouth. “I’d like that.”
His gorgeous lips lift at the corners. “Great.”
That pleasure in his face ignites a touch of guilt. Guilt that this chemistry between them can go nowhere and maybe Luca believes it can. She sighs. “Um … Luca, there’s something I need to tell you.” She shoves her hands in her pockets.
He arches his brows.
“I … ah …”
He leans in. “Yes.”
She scratches her head. “I … really like the colour of your shirt. It suits you.”
He narrows his eyes. “Is that what you were really going to say?”
“Yep. Blue’s a good colour for you.”
“Thank you,” he says, but she can tell he’s humouring her.
“You’re welcome. I better let you get back to it. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She turns, starts to leave, but he grips her wrist gently and pulls her back to him until she is standing almost chest to chest.
His warmth sinks deep into her flesh and his scent encompasses her. Her breaths are shorter, faster, as she looks up at him. Heat blazes in his gaze, making her body flood with delicious warmth.
In his big, tender hands, he holds her face and leans in closer. A rush of anticipation. Closer still. Desire sparks in her veins. At last, his lips press against hers, soft and warm. The rough prickle of his stubble brushes her chin.
His hand rakes deep into her hair to angle her face so his lips fit to hers just right. Every fibre in her body flickers to life. For ten fast heartbeats, he stays like that, then slowly pulls away, leaving her wanting so much more. “Whatever it is you need to tell me, don’t leave it too long.”
She shakes her head, breathless and dizzy all at once. Her heart is beating out of control. She doesn’t answer him, instead offers a smile and rushes away, afraid if she stays, she will jump into his arms and kiss him until she can’t kiss anymore.
When Pia opens the back door, she almost runs into Nan.
“Oh,” Pia says, wiping the exhilarated grin from her face in case Nan gets an inkling as to what just happened with Luca.
“I hadn’t realised you were home yet,” Nan says, her gaze roaming over Pia’s face as though looking for any sign of treachery.
“I got back fifteen minutes ago.”
“I see.” Nan arches a brow, purses her lips. “How did your day of shopping go?”
“Shopping?” Then she remembers that’s what she told them she was doing to hide the fact she was visiting a doctor. “Oh, um, it was good. I bought a few things.”
Nan nods. “Well, I’m going to see Luca and try and talk some sense into him.”
Her stomach clenches. Had she seen that kiss? “How so?”
“He says there’s no other option than to tear through my rose garden.”
Pia restrains the sigh of relief and shrugs. “Maybe there isn’t. Maybe you’re going to have to trust that he’ll take good care of them until he can replant them.”
“It’s not the point. I don’t understand how there can’t possibly be another way of fixing these footings. I don’t want to sacrifice those roses; they mean too much to me.”
Pia watches Nan carefully. She’s actually trembling. “Nan, try not to worry about it. Let me see if I can convince him to look for another option.”
“Would you? He’d probably listen to you rather than an old duck like me.”
“I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”
Nan blows out a long breath, some semblance of stern equanimity returning to her demeanour. “I’d appreciate that. A lot
. Thank you.”
“It’s no worry at all.”
Chapter 26
Mary
1969
Women had a specific skill, and it worked because men were oblivious to it. If Mary had learnt anything from her mother, it was how to manage her husband.
She says manage, but perhaps others might construe it as manipulation. Manipulation came with horrible connotations, though, and she didn’t think there was anything horrible about trying to control a man’s reaction to a situation.
Two days before Mum and Dad were scheduled to come back to Campbell Town to collect June, Mary pulled Robert to the side the moment he strode through the door after work.
Tears streaked her face.
He dropped his briefcase when he saw her. “What’s the matter?”
“I need to talk to you about something very important to me.”
He nodded slowly. “Of course. What is it?”
“Come into the library. I’ve fixed you a scotch.”
Mary didn’t speak as they made their way upstairs and into the library. The room consisted of his oversized mahogany desk, a sofa where she loved to perch herself and read while she gazed out at the countryside, and a long wall lined with books—mostly hers. Books Robert had continued to buy her nearly every week since they were married.
Secretly, she knew they were his way to appease her for not yet being blessed with the one thing she wanted more than anything else in the world. And as much as she adored the books, she’d gladly do away with all of them if it meant she could have a child.
Mary took a seat on the sofa. He joined her, reaching for his glass of scotch that she had waiting on the coffee table. She gave him a moment to take a swallow.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I am absolutely heartbroken, and I don’t think I will ever recover.”
Robert stilled. He paused for a breath. “May I ask why?”
“June’s pregnant,” she said and allowed genuine tears to roll down her face.
He shook his head, his face crumpled with confusion. “June? Your fifteen-year-old sister June?”
She nodded. “At first I was so blindingly jealous I thought I would die.”
“Oh, darling,” he said, placing a hand on her thigh. “I’m so sorry you have to feel this way.”
“But now I’m scared out of my wits that once Mum and Dad know about this, they are going to take the baby away.”
Robert winced. “I’m afraid they might. But it’s what’s best for the baby. June isn’t married. She’s much too young—”
“It’s not best for the baby!” Mary snapped, then retreated a little, realising that was the first time she had ever raised her voice to Robert. “A child needs its mother and its family. I’m not sure I could ever get over such a horrible thing, let alone poor June. No mother should have to lose their child. I would be devastated …” she broke off crying.
“This is an extremely difficult predicament.”
“I’m so scared. I’m scared for June. Here we are unable to have a child …” She waited a beat for that to sink in, “And yet we’re going to stand by while June’s is given away.”
Robert looked away—pain in his own gaze. It was wrong to push him on that point because he was as upset about their childlessness as she was, but she had to. To get the desired result, she needed him to become emotionally invested.
He had another sip of the amber liquid in his glass.
“I’ve been thinking,” she said.
He faced her again.
“What if June doesn’t go back with Mum and Dad on Saturday?”
He placed his glass on the coffee table. “What are you saying, Mary?”
“What if June lives with us? We say you have got her into secretarial school. She’s not going to be able to finish her studies anyway. And we pretend that it is me who is pregnant. We hide June once she starts to show. You help her deliver the baby here at home. And we pretend the child is mine. We, along with June, raise the baby as our own.”
Robert shook his head. “Mary, do you even know how impossible that sounds?”
She took a moment, trying to phrase her words effectually. “It’s absolutely possible.” She pressed a hand high on his thigh and leaned in close. “Robert, this may be the only chance we have to be parents. Please, you can’t take this baby away from June. Or from me.”
Robert squeezed the bridge of his nose between his finger and thumb and closed his eyes. After a moment, he peered at her. “Are you certain you could go through with this? This isn’t a lie that will last for a few months, but for the entire life of the child? Are you and June sure you can handle that? Is she prepared to watch on as you pretend to be the mother?”
She nodded quickly. “We’ve discussed every single detail. We know it will be difficult. But it will be more difficult if June never gets to see this baby again.”
He sighed. “Let me think it through before I make a decision.”
“Of course. But …”
“But what, Mary?” he asked impatiently.
“Be quick because I need to tell Mum and Dad as soon as possible.”
* * *
Lily-Rose was born on New Year’s Eve 1969, and she was the most adorable baby Mary had ever seen. A sparse covering of blonde hair, fresh pink skin, and delicate scrunched-up features.
Lily-Rose came a near two weeks late, and they were stressing that medical intervention to induce the labour would be required, which would mean their secret would be revealed.
Mary had been in barely veiled hysterics since June’s anticipated due date came and went. To have lied, covered and masterminded so much over the last few months only to have it all be for nought in the end was inconceivable.
But by one o’clock, one day before the turn of the new decade, contractions started. Robert was out at a lunch with the townsfolk—the plan was for them to have a quiet dinner together that night once he arrived home.
Mary had gone into hiding too by that stage so as to not make anyone suspicious why her stomach was not the shape of a swollen beach ball like poor petite June’s was.
She took care of June until Robert arrived home late in the afternoon. The contractions weren’t too frequent during that phase, so she didn’t panic. By ten-thirty that evening, after hours of sweat, grit and dreadful pain, the baby was born.
The moment Lily-Rose was thrust into this world, Mary cried and cried such happy tears, consumed with unrecognisable emotions. It was like she had been holding her breath for ten hours and was allowed blissful oxygen the moment she heard the first bleating whaa from Lily-Rose.
To see the love in June’s eyes as she held her swaddled baby against her breast, and they knew that she would not be giving her away, it made all the sacrifice, the covering-up, the secrecy, worth every stressful moment.
A mother and her baby was rightness, no matter the lengths taken to achieve it.
When Mary held Lily-Rose in her own arms, Robert beside her with an arm around her shoulders, and breathed in that new-born scent that can never be replicated, she was happy. For her and Robert, intuition spoke that this was as close to having their own as they could get, so she was going to love this baby girl with every part of her.
Robert peered at Mary with glossy eyes and kissed her forehead. “She’s beautiful,” he whispered.
Mary nodded. “The most beautiful.”
But she must confess that within her burned the most intense jealousy, for her breasts weren’t full with milk like June’s were, and they would ache with the desire to let Lily-Rose suckle them.
June only breastfed for a week, then expressed for another three until they transitioned Lily-Rose over to formula. It wasn’t ideal, but in order to keep their secret a secret, Mary needed to be the one who fed her, especially when Mum came to stay for a fortnight to help care for Lily-Rose.
The transition in her mind from proud aunt to mother occurred in those two weeks. Pretending Lily-Rose was her very ow
n, and having the community, her parents and Grace believe that she was, almost had her believing that this baby was truly hers.
Robert was a fantastic father, though she always knew he would be. All financial and emotional care, he took on without question.
By the time Lily-Rose was one, and they threw a first birthday party, inviting the locals and other mum’s to attend with their children, they had all fallen into a routine. No one questioned the validity of their arrangement. The birth certificate had been notarised.
June had started secretarial school six months prior and was doing wonderfully. She attended school between nine and three, three days a week. At all times in between, June was present in her daughter’s life as much as any mother. Even in public, no one would bat an eyelid at such a young, loving aunt.
The first signs of difficulty showed when Lily-Rose said her first word, which was Dad, and that wasn’t so bad because, biological father or not, Robert was gentle and doting on Lily-Rose, and you would never come between that.
But when Lily-Rose was eleven months old, she called Mary Mum. Mary’s heart burst with a warmth of joy but another part of her knew that with her joy, June suffered the opposite.
After witnessing it for herself, June was bed-ridden with despair for three days.
Mary asked Robert that night as they got ready for bed, “Have we done the right thing?”
He sighed but didn’t answer for a long moment as he thought about his response. Meanwhile, her stomach churned in anticipation. He was a smart man—the smartest she knew. He had a level head and was honest. If he thought they had made the wrong decision, he would say so, and she would know it was an educated answer.
“If Lily-Rose were adopted, June would be eternally heart-broken and so would you. And even if she did have adoptive parents, they would be less her real parents than you or I are. But, I will tell you one thing, Mary,” he said leaning in, his voice low and serious, “No one could love Lily-Rose more than we do. No one. I don’t care what anyone says, but that little girl of ours will be given the best life because our love is endless. I see the way you look at her and interact with her—she’s the luckiest girl in the world. And I’m the luckiest man because we both have you to love us. There is no more beautiful love than yours.”
The Secrets Mothers Keep Page 15
