He leans over, closing the space between them and presses his lips to hers. No tongue. A simple closed-mouth kiss that causes a heady concoction of bliss, arousal and anticipation. It’s like someone has got a hold of her deepest tummy muscles and is gently tugging.
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” he says when he pulls away.
She nods. Dazed. Blissed out. “Thank you. You too. And thanks again for lunch. Your lunch—quite literally.”
He chuckles, his shoulders bouncing with the motion. “Anytime.”
“You mean that?” she whispers.
“I do.”
She breathes in deeply as that tugging feeling in her belly intensifies. Pia has never been one to take it slow with men. Sex is sex—no big deal. Since she lost her virginity at seventeen, she’s had no guiding protocols when it comes to sex.
Sometimes she would sleep with a man on the third date. Sometimes mere hours after meeting a guy at a club. Others, it has taken many dates before she has felt comfortable moving on to sex.
With Luca, she would gladly ask him this very second to drive back to his place, take her to his bedroom and let him make love with her.
But she has no experience with her current set of circumstances. Never has she had to put another human being, who isn’t even born yet, before herself. She has never had to consider how this human being will affect this incredible man sitting beside her, and, mostly, how he may affect this human being growing inside of her.
She gazes into his rich brown eyes and the words are on her lips, begging to be spoken, to ask him to take her back to his place, but she swallows them down.
Instead, she unbuckles her seatbelt and reaches for the door handle. “I’ll see you Monday, Luca.”
He smiles and she almost changes her mind to see that transformation shape his handsome face. But, with all her self-control, she climbs out of the car on wobbly legs and heads back inside.
Chapter 31
Mary
Mary is pottering around in the living room when Luca strides in holding a basket filled with cellophane wrapped presents.
She forces her expression to remain impartial, but a smile finds her lips despite her intentions. She has always been a fool for Christmas. Despite everything that has happened in her life, she always makes time to decorate the house, put up a tree and buy thoughtful gifts.
The years when Lily-Rose was young, especially when Robert was still alive, were the most magical memories she holds. Nothing is more special than seeing the joy on a child’s face as they find presents under the tree on Christmas morning.
After Robert’s passing, she made Christmas more special than ever. Maybe to compensate for their grief.
In the past few days, she has put the Christmas tree up with Pia’s help. She retrieved all the ornaments, wreaths and bells from boxes she stores in the cellar and carefully placed them around the room. They all gathered to decorate the tree with big colourful glass baubles, some which she has kept since she was first married.
As this will be the last Christmas in this house, she wants it to be extra-special. To have all the family here will make it so.
She can hardly believe everyone agreed to stay home this year. It’s been at least a decade since they’ve managed to all be in the one place at the one time.
“Luca, what do you have there?” she asks.
He grins somewhat bashfully, and it warms her heart to see it. Yes, over the years, her trust in men has dwindled to non-existent, but she has been too hard on him—deep down he is a genuine, hard-working young man.
“I won’t see you all until after Christmas, so I’d like to give you your gifts now,” he says.
Her hand rests over her heart. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to. It’s been a pleasure working with you ladies, and I want to show my appreciation.”
She smiles again. “What are you doing for Christmas, Luca?”
He looks away, then back to her. “I thought I’d drop in to see a few mates, but other than that …”
“Your parents?”
“They’re in Italy visiting Mum’s family this year.”
“Oh, you’ve Italian heritage?”
He nods. “On Mum’s side.”
“So that leaves you on your own?” she asks.
“Yes.”
Mary recalls seeing him around town with a woman, but it has been so long. She once paid much attention to all the goings-on in this town, but she prefers to keep to herself these days. “Did you have a fiancée a while back?”
He lowers his gaze, grimaces. “We parted ways about twelve months ago. After our son … she didn’t cope well with anything, let alone our relationship.”
She sighs. “Yes, I did hear about that.” His fiancée delivered their baby prematurely and the child didn’t make it. Information like that is so difficult for Mary to handle; she prefers to not let such things occupy her mind. “I’m so sorry. It must have been terrible.”
“It was a couple of years ago now. I’ve made peace.”
“Though surely not forgotten.”
“Impossible to forget.”
She breathes in deeply as that current of emotion rushes through her system warning of an old grief knitted into the fabric of her soul.
Christmas alone would be difficult for him. At least she has always had June—what a godsend she is. “Place those presents under the tree. We can open them on Christmas Day. You’re very welcome to join us. It’ll only be our family. Though, I’m also going to invite Damien. He too will be alone this year.”
Luca’s eyes brighten. “I’d really enjoy that. As long as I’m not a burden. I’d be happy to bring a dish or a dessert. Or contribute towards the cost of the day.”
She waves his concern away. “You’ll be our guest. We don’t often have them, so it will be a pleasure to have you here. And it will be our last Christmas inside the house …” She doesn’t anticipate her voice taking on such a melancholy note nor the tightness in her oesophagus. It’s embarrassing to get so emotional about a house. She clears her throat. “So the more the merrier.”
“Thank you.” He unpacks the presents and places them underneath the tree that is bursting with colour. The first presents for the season.
“Lovely. Now you enjoy your couple of days off. And I’ll see you over here at about eleven o’clock Christmas morning.”
He smiles, leans in and kisses her cheek. It catches her by surprise and the air in her throat thins for a second. So many years since she has allowed a man to kiss her, even in this non-intimate manner. “Thank you. I look forward to seeing you then.”
She nods, quick movements, but can’t quite find her voice, which is very much unlike her.
Luca takes his now-empty basket and heads out the front door. She stands there in the living room for a moment attempting to catch her breath. Memories she would much rather forget stir like water beneath hard ice.
* * *
1980
Lily-Rose arrived home from school and met Mary in the kitchen where she was peeling potatoes for tonight’s dinner—cottage pie.
Lily-Rose dropped her bag down, kicked off her shoes and socks, scattering them across the floor and charged at Mary with a bright green slip of cardboard. She flapped it around in front of her face. An enormous smile was on her mouth that reminded Mary ever so much of her true mother.
Mary placed the peeler down and pressed her hands to her hips. “What’s with all the excitement?”
“I won the short story competition,” she said, the missing tooth that fell out two days ago leaving a big gummy gap in her mouth.
She had worked so hard on the story, writing and re-writing it over and over again until it was perfect. She received little help at all except from Robert on occasion.
Mary wanted to pull her into her arms, kiss her cheek and tell her how proud she was. But she didn’t. She hardly ever went with her first reaction anymore. Over the years, she learned to hesitate and consider how June
would feel. As much as she would never say so, she often saw the longing in June’s gaze to be able to interact with Lily-Rose as Mary did.
Robert, though, he behaved as any father would with his own daughter. Perhaps that’s why their relationship was so strong. He gave Lily-Rose everything of him. Mary held much of herself back.
She took the green slip of card from her fingers and read the award, indeed stating that Lily-Rose had won the competition. Mary offered her a proud grin. “That’s a wonderful effort, Lily-Rose. I know you worked very hard on that story, so congratulations for winning.”
Lily-Rose beamed up at her. “I can’t wait to tell Dad,” she squealed.
“Tell me what?” came Robert’s voice from the entrance hall. He must have finished work early.
Lily-Rose bolted out of the kitchen.
“Don’t run,” she yelled after her.
Mary paced out to view the interaction—nothing more adorable than watching Robert with Lily-Rose. He was a marvellous, patient father, which was a curse for Mary as much as it was a blessing.
Many times she cried herself to sleep for being unable to provide him with his own children. He said he didn’t care, that he loved her with all his soul regardless, but always, despite her better judgement, a nest of guilt sat squarely in her barren womb.
Lily-Rose showed him the award. Robert read it, his eyes widening and a generous grin finding his lips.
“You little ripper,” he yelled as he lifted Lily-Rose into his arms and spun her around. He kissed her cheek. “You are the cleverest girl I know.”
“I take after you.”
Mary’s heart jolted like she had been punched to hear those words and to see Robert flinch. No matter how much they loved Lily-Rose, she wasn’t theirs and in so many ways, they were reminded of that.
“All right, all right. Let your father get through the door now,” she said, and she hated herself for doing so, but something always made her pull Lily-Rose back from them.
Maybe it was fear that Lily-Rose would discover the truth and they would lose her.
Maybe it was for June’s sake.
Or maybe it was because she was endlessly guilty for lying to such a beautiful little girl who deserved the truth.
“I think Aunt June is in the library. She’d love to hear the good news,” she said.
Lily-Rose grinned wide and bounded up the stairs.
Mary met Robert’s gaze, wanting this aching tightness in her throat to go away, but it never did. He frowned, came to her and drew her into his arms. She bit back the tears that wanted to fall for all the children they couldn’t have.
“Oh, darling, I don’t know why you worry yourself about this all the time,” he whispered in her ear.
She drew away, lifted her shoulders back and chin up. Hoping to stem the imminent tears, she blinked. “I’m not worrying. I’m fine.” She spun away from him, needing a distraction, and strode off to the kitchen to continue peeling the potatoes.
“How was your day?” she asked when he followed her in.
He was loosening his tie. “It was good. How was yours?”
“No complaints.”
They made love that night with the passion of two people who desperately hoped that maybe this time, even after thirteen years of trying, that this might be the one time she fell pregnant.
But she didn’t.
She never made love to her husband again. He never came home from work and strolled through their entrance hall. He never lifted Lily-Rose into his arms. Never spoke. Never cuddled. Never lived again.
Robert’s car was hit by a logging truck on the way to the doctor’s surgery that next morning. The police officer said that he died on impact like that was supposed to make it better somehow.
Mary never knew what grief was until then. She never knew one could feel the pain of loss so deeply you weren’t able to breathe or think or sleep.
She never knew how cold she would feel without him beside her. How meaningless everything else was.
She never knew her heart could be torn open and that the wound would never quite heal, always sore, festering and raw.
But to witness Lily-Rose’s pain was worse than anything. In her small world, her father was everything—the one person in her life who never held back. And now he was gone and the suffering that caused her was incomparable to Mary’s.
Mary’s heart broke with the loss of Robert, but she was old enough to understand death. Lily-Rose wasn’t. No matter what she said, she could never make sense of it. Not for many years. If ever.
Mary blamed herself. She was selfish to have taken on the role of mother to a child that wasn’t hers. She was selfish to make June sit in the background of a life that should have been her own. If not with Lily-Rose, then at some point down the track, she would have married and had more children. But she couldn’t see past her own desires. And now Lily-Rose was suffering more than any girl ever should.
Ten years old with no father and no real mother figure because June and Mary were too scared to step on each other’s toes.
On top of missing the only man she had ever loved, she hated herself for what she did. What she continued to do. The lies she told every single day.
Chapter 32
June
Christmas morning, June wants to sneak in a meditation session before the long day begins. She rushes downstairs and out into the backyard with her yoga mat under her arm.
She takes position on the grass, legs crossed, eyes closed. Each inhalation is thick with humidity and the air coats her skin with moisture. If the sun were able to permeate the blanket of blackened clouds, it would be much too hot to be out here even at this time of morning.
Surely Christmas Day could have managed better weather.
During her meditation, there is a persistent thought that won’t subside—the magazine article. Since reading that, she has had an unceasing sensation of unease. Mary handled the situation well, as she always has done, and nothing else has come of it, but it has left June nervous.
But today of all days, she must not focus on such matters. Today is all about family, cheer and celebrating togetherness.
June manages to find stillness for a few moments before the first fat raindrops wet her. She looks up at the sky and big splashes hit her face. By the time she slips through the back door, she is soaked through.
Pia is in the kitchen with Lily-Rose preparing tea. They laugh as June shakes the water from her arms.
“Well that didn’t go to plan, did it?” Lily-Rose says.
June grins. “Not quite. Give me fifteen minutes while I shower. Then I’ll come back down for a cup of tea. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas,” they both chorus.
There is something about those two words that grate on her. Maybe because every Christmas since she was sixteen has felt fake like she was outside with her hands pressed to the windows, looking in.
Why, after all these years, can she not let this go? She made her choice. Why can’t she move on? That decision to hand her baby over keeps dragging her down the long tunnel of time, never letting her truly be free in the present moment.
“Oh, and when we’re all together, I have some news to share,” Pia says.
Lily-Rose peers at her daughter, head cocked to the side. “Oh, really?”
Pia smiles nervously. “Yes.”
Lily-Rose meets June’s eyes and in that one glance, June realises that Lily-Rose already knows about the pregnancy.
After a quick shower, June dresses in a new outfit she bought for today—white shin-length cotton pants and a red t-shirt with a glittery image of Santa Claus and candy canes on the front.
She takes some time to blow-dry her hair and apply make-up. Christmas is one of the few days a year where she makes the effort to look good.
The rest of the family are sitting around the dining table drinking tea and eating toast with fresh leg ham and seeded mustard.
“I have some news I’d like to share,” P
ia says once June is seated, a warm cup of tea in front of her.
All attention falls to Pia.
“I’m pregnant,” she blurts without any delay, then stares at everyone, fear in her eyes as she awaits the reactions.
“Who to?” Grace asks. “The builder?”
Pia shakes her head quickly and glances at her mother, then turns back to Grace. “No. Not Luca. We haven’t even … we don’t … it’s to Ben. My ex-boyfriend.”
“Oh dear,” Grace says gravely, a hand resting over her heart.
Lily-Rose jumps from her chair and wraps her arms around Pia. “I’m so glad you finally told me, so I can be excited about this.”
Pia looks up at her mother when she stops strangling her and winces. “I had a feeling you knew already.”
Lily-Rose waves a dismissive hand and sits back down, legs crossed. “Your father told me.”
Pia closes her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first.”
“Never mind about that. I was upset. Of course I was. I’m hurt that you told him first. But in the grand scheme of things, I guess it doesn’t matter. I’m so happy.”
“You really are? You don’t mind that Ben’s not in the picture?”
Lily-Rose smiles sadly. “It would be best for this child to have a father, but you wouldn’t be the first mother to raise her child on her own.”
Mary stands, moves to Pia and kisses her forehead. “Congratulations. This is a wonderful blessing for this family. No child is ever anything but a blessing.”
June goes to Pia next with a knowing smile that says, ‘I won’t let on that I already know’. She cuddles her. “This is lovely news. You’ll be a wonderful mother with or without Ben.”
Grace stands slowly, confusion etched into her features. “So, you’re going to do this all by yourself?”
Pia nods.
“Why? Does Ben want nothing to do with the baby?” Grace asks.
Pia shakes her head. “I don’t want Ben in the picture, so he doesn’t even know.”
Grace’s brows rise then fall quickly back into place. She wraps her arms around Pia. “Congratulations. I guess this means I’m going to be a great aunt.”
The Secrets Mothers Keep Page 19
