Mary rubs Grace’s shoulder. “You have your own memories with John. Keep those.”
Grace wipes her cheeks with her palms. “Yes. I will.” But that John she knew is so ethereal now. Did he really exist? Or was it all a big lie?
“Do you want me to keep reading?” Rebecca asks.
Grace nods, wanting to get it over with.
Please know that if I had have remembered you, I would have come back sooner. I wouldn’t have left you for all those years. But, maybe, too, knowing the man I used to be, it may have been what was best for everybody.
So, Rebecca, I would love to see you again. But the decision is yours. I have another family now and at this stage, they don’t know what has happened. But if you want to make contact, I will tell them. We will make it work.
But I do understand if you are happy to keep living your life without me. It’s up to you.
Love
Dad (Patrick Michaels)
Grace flinches. “Patrick Michaels?”
“The investigator said he goes by John Peterson now?”
“Yes,” Grace says, voice barely audible. She hadn’t even thought that he’d have had an entirely different name.
Rebecca hands over a newspaper clipping tucked within a plastic sleeve. “Here’s a copy of the article after his mugging.”
Grace lifts her reading glasses off the table and pushes them onto her nose. She stares at the image in her hand—a much younger John and an attached article with the headline: MAN IS MUGGED, WAKES WITH AMNESIA.
She hands it to Mary, who brings it closer to her face to see. “That’s definitely John.”
“I can’t believe this,” Grace whispers.
Rebecca nods. “I know. As I said, stranger than fiction.”
“Stranger than anything I’ve ever heard before. I was married to this man for forty-odd years and all this time he had this past ...”
“I thought the same,” Rebecca says. “How could he go so long and never remember, then he jumps out of a plane and bam.”
“So John knew that your mother had passed?” Mary asks.
“Yes. I gave the investigator some basic information to take back to John until I had the courage to contact him myself. But I hesitated too long.”
“You weren’t to know, Grace says with a shake of the head. “I can understand now how this would’ve been so confusing and bizarre.”
The waitress interrupts, placing their meals one by one in front of them. Grace wants to push hers away when the meaty smell of it curdles in her stomach.
“You can keep the letter and the article. I have a copy of both at home,” Rebecca says.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Keep them.”
Grace reaches into her bag and pulls out a folder. She rests it on the table beside her lunch plate. “I brought some photos of John and my children with me.” She hands them to Rebecca.
Rebecca hesitates, eyes closed. She inhales noisily, then takes the folder from Grace. “I’ve been so scared about seeing him. Mum had a few photos, but not much.”
“You don’t have to look at them yet. You can take them home with you, and when you’re ready, you can look at them then.”
Rebecca smiles. “Thank you. I think that’s what I’d like to do. Today has been so momentous already.”
“I thought I was the only one who believed so,” Grace says.
“Are you kidding me? I could barely sleep last night. In fact, I’ve barely slept since I emailed you about meeting.”
Grace laughs and is amazed to hear the merry sound after such a weighted revelation. Then again, much of the tension and anticipation have teetered off into the atmosphere now that the truth has been revealed. There is relief in that—in Grace finally knowing the real story.
For the next hour, they exchange details about their lives. Rebecca explains how she is a school teacher, which Grace finds coincidental. She has four children of her own. All girls. Her husband works at one of the nearby mines. Grace tells her about her grandchildren and Pia’s imminent baby.
Rebecca leaves it up to Grace to decide if she wishes to continue their relationship. Grace is grateful for that—to not have the pressure of pushing something that she still hasn’t processed yet.
“You look very much like your father,” Grace says when Rebecca hugs her goodbye.
“My Mum always said that.”
“He was a handsome man.”
Rebecca smiles. “Yeah, Mum said that too.”
“Thank you for meeting with me,” Grace says and means it.
“Thank you too. And for the pictures.”
Grace offers a warm smile, and they part ways with no expectation that they have to see each other again.
As she walks with Mary back to the hotel, Grace is undecided if she ever will make the decision to reach out to Rebecca in the future. She is a wonderful woman, kind and intelligent, but it’s a lot to deal with. And Grace’s ability to deal with anything after John’s death hasn’t been so good.
When back at their room, Grace sits on the end of her bed and takes off her shoes, mind lost to the details Rebecca provided today.
“I have to apologise, but I need to have a lie down for an hour,” Mary says, sitting on the bed beside her.
“Of course.” Grace heads out onto the balcony that offers a view over the city of Perth to give Mary some privacy. Traffic races beneath—signs that life goes on. It never ever stops.
The shock of all that she has learnt today sets in, resting deep in her bones. It thickens around her heart, compressing her chest, and tightening the walls of her throat. Tears of anguish pool in her eyes and drip down her cheeks.
They say to never meet your heroes in case they disappoint you. But that saying is limited. The truth is, you never truly meet anyone—never their full, whole self. Something is always reserved, kept close to the chest, secrets, wrong-doings, prejudices, fantasies, sometimes, like with John, an entirely other life.
What she learnt today is that John never truly existed. He was a made-up entity created by a young father named Patrick who was often violent.
Did John even love her in the end? Or were those tears he cried in his final days for this other family and for what he had done? She will never know. And perhaps that is the most heartbreaking aspect of all.
Chapter 34
Lily-Rose
Lily-Rose links her elbow with Pia as they stroll through the shopping centre towards the children’s department. Bright lights beam overhead. Shiny white tiles line the floor. The scent of perfume and linen fills the air. People dart here and there, taking advantage of New Year sales.
Lily-Rose ensured she dressed inconspicuously today—a pair of jeans and a pale pink T-shirt. Her hair is tidy but not styled. She has forgone all makeup, bar lip gloss and mascara. Today is all about spoiling Pia, not drawing attention. Lord knows she’s had enough of that these past twelve months. Anyone would think her career is blooming instead of dying.
Over the years, she has ensured Pia was given the most grounded life possible considering her career choices. But she never compromised on showing her daughter how much she loved her.
Before Pia was even born, Lily-Rose rubbed her ballooning stomach and swore to her that she would always be emotionally available. The distance she felt—still feels—from her own mother was not going to be repeated with her child.
“Mum, please don’t go overboard,” Pia says as they enter the baby section with all its sweet powdery scents and pale pastel colours. Prams sit upon big stages by the dozen. Cots are standing side by side in all different shades and styles. Blankets and baby-sized pieces of clothing, soft brushes and unscented shampoos line the shelves.
Lily-Rose smiles. “This will be my first grandchild, and I intend to spoil them. That’s my right. You don’t have a job at the moment, nor is Ben in the picture, so that leaves me. And I’m grateful to be able to buy what this baby needs.”
“I’ve actually organised a job.�
�
Lily-Rose’s eyes widen. “What? Where?”
“I’ll be starting tomorrow with Damien. He needs someone to help at the café over the busy holiday period.”
Lily-Rose stops and faces her daughter. “When did that happen?”
“I mentioned to him at Christmas that I needed a job. He said he had an opening.”
“You’re not serious? You’ll be having a baby soon.”
Pia laughs. “Yes, a baby. I’m not crippled. Besides, I want to. I like earning my own money, and I want to be able to buy this baby necessities too.”
Lily-Rose can’t complain that her daughter has a good work ethic and responsibility level. But she doesn’t want this pregnancy to be difficult for Pia, not like it was for herself.
She found out she was pregnant two weeks after earning her first major movie role. For five long months, amidst morning sickness, sore breasts and fatigue, she was subjected to twelve-to-fourteen-hour days on set. “As long as you think you’ll cope standing on your feet.”
“It won’t be long shifts. No more than four hours a day, four or five days a week. I still want spare time to work on early promotions for the bed and breakfast as well as ordering equipment. We’ll have to sit down soon and work out what we need.”
Lily-Rose wraps her arm around her daughter and kisses her cheek. “We’re all here to help with that. As soon as Mum and Aunt Grace are back from Perth, we’ll get that sorted.”
Pia is always one to be organised well beforehand. She’s like Hugh in that respect.
A deep ache in Lily-Rose’s heart swells every time Hugh fills her mind. She knows it’s best to push him to the back of her brain and try her hardest not to think about him, but something unusual has been happening lately—her body aches for him in all those places he used to fill, touch, and kiss.
Her hands throb when she tries to fall to sleep as though they pine for Hugh to hold them. Her chest hurts the most, that one place where her love for him resides.
She had never realised how difficult it would be to exist without him. Does he feel the same about her? Does his body keep him awake, wanting one more press of her heat?
For the next few hours, she browses the baby furniture with Pia. Lily-Rose only purchases the bigger items after Pia insists she leaves some of the fun for her. They organise delivery for later that week, so it will be all ready when they are able to move into their apartments.
Move into our apartments. That thought always makes her belly squeeze with anticipation. The finality of it is similar to when she signed her name on the divorce papers. Done and dusted. No coming back from that.
But this is a new direction in her life. This momentous change was bound to happen sooner or later. She is blessed to have had such a long career and a solid marriage for many years; now it’s time to embrace this change. This is a new chapter—no less bright or meaningful, just different.
Sure, she may hurt for a while longer, but time will take care of that, won’t it?
On the drive home, Pia looks across at her as they wait at a traffic light.
“What?” Lily-Rose asks with a smile.
Pia’s face is serious. “I … um … have something to tell you.”
Her heart thuds one loud beat to hear the trepidation in Pia’s voice. “Tell me.”
Pia crinkles her brow as though bracing herself. “Dad’s got a girlfriend.”
A deep crevice of silence. All the air rushes from Lily-Rose’s lungs in a quick burst. The world whirls around her.
A car horn sounds from behind, shaking Lily-Rose out of her shock.
‘The light’s green, Mum,” Pia says softly but urgently.
She slams her foot on the accelerator and screeches forward. “Well that didn’t take him long,” she says when she finds her voice again. “No wonder he was in such a rush to get divorced.”
“He has every right to move on.”
She throws a hand up, “Of course. That’s his god damn male right, isn’t it? Got to give that cock a good workout. Wouldn’t want it dropping off.”
Pia groans. “Geez, Mum, do you have to mention his … he’s my father? I don’t want to think about that region, please.”
“Who is she?”
“Now, don’t get pissed at me—”
“Who, Pia? Who the fuck is it?”
“Rachel.”
She shrugs, shakes her head. “Rachel who?”
“Chance.”
Lily-Rose’s eyes widen. She turns from the road and stares at Pia. “You’re joking. My Rachel Chance?” Her hands curl harder around the steering wheel. The road ahead blurs at the edges of her vision as anger brews. “As in my long-time girlfriend since acting school Rachel Chance? Rachel Chance, who comes and stays with me at least once a year?”
Pia clears her throat. “Um … yes.”
Lily-Rose screams as loud as she can, over and over again. Every worst curse word she can come up with is propelled from her mouth like a bullet.
So this is how Hugh felt when she had betrayed him. Her gut clenches with pain. How long has Rachel been waiting in the wings for her husband? And Lily-Rose handed him over like a discarded piece of meat.
Her heart stops as a thought strikes her. “How long have they been seeing each other? Since before Hugh and I separated?”
Pia shakes her head quickly. “He swears it’s only been the last few months. She went to Africa with him to volunteer.”
Lily-Rose rolls her eyes. “Rachel hates getting her fingernails chipped. She’s only after his money, which happens to be my money. She’s been married and divorced three times already.” She holds up three fingers. “Three times. How does he think she makes her money? I’ve always thought your father an intelligent man, but this proves I was wrong. I’m sorry, honey, I know he’s your dad, but this is the most pathetic dumb-shit act he’s ever committed.”
“There’s more,” Pia says, almost a whisper.
Lily-Rose squeezes the steering wheel, tensing for the next swing of the axe.
“He’s going to be at the house this afternoon. He wants to see me, and he has a Christmas present he wants to drop off. You don’t have to see him at all. But I thought I’d let you know.”
“Oh, I’ll be bloody seeing him.”
“Rachel will be with him too.”
Her fingers are so tight, her fingernails dig into her palms. Her breaths sound like a bull sucking in air.
How will she cope seeing Hugh with another woman? Not just any woman, but her best friend she has known for thirty years.
The betrayal shifts through her soul like glass, cutting and slicing at any remaining threads of hope.
Tears wet her eyes, but she doesn’t dare let them fall. No way.
Yes, she made a mistake. She screwed another man. But did Hugh’s revenge have to take this shape?
“You did sleep with someone else too, Mum,” Pia says, not with any blame but rather a statement.
“She’s my best friend!” Lily-Rose screams so loud her throat burns. She slams her palm against the steering wheel. The car lurches to the right, but she quickly pulls it straight.
“Do you think I should drive?” Pia asks.
“I’m fine,” she snaps, then her shoulders roll inwards on a deep sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to be snapping at you because of Hugh.” She scrubs a hand through her hair. “I’m so damn tired of all this. All I want is for life to go back to how it was, but I can’t make that happen. It’s so frustrating.” A tear escapes and slides down her cheek.
What hurts most is how soon Hugh has moved on. She can’t even think of finding someone else. Yes, she was the one to sleep with another man, but that had nothing to do with her marriage and everything to do with believing that an affair could fix her.
She knew the moment she woke up beside Antonio that what she had done wouldn’t solve any problems. Never had she felt such roiling apprehension. But he was like a landslide that swept her up and she couldn’t break loose. The m
ore her guilt, shame and self-loathing grew, the more she tumbled amongst that gushing mud and rock until she was battered and nothing like the person she was before.
To become emotionally involved with someone other than Hugh, though, is something she can’t even consider. The pain, the loss, the yearning is still too great. Emotions don’t simply cease. Not after twenty-nine years of marriage. Especially when she was the one to destroy the relationship.
The remaining drive home is in silence. She can’t speak and she doesn’t want to, too wrapped up in the stories churning in her mind.
After climbing out the car, Pia sticks her head back in. “Thanks for coming shopping with me today. It was really lovely.”
“It was. Um … Pia, what time will Dad be here?”
Pia checks her watch. “In an hour.”
“Okay.”
“Do you think you’re better off not seeing him?” Pia asks.
She inhales deeply, shrugs. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour.”
“I love you both. Okay? Equally. I’m on no one’s side.”
Her heart aches with guilt. “Thanks, honey. I know that. And I appreciate you telling me.”
* * *
Lily-Rose hides in the kitchen, ears pricked, as Aunt June greets Hugh at the front door. His deep voice is so familiar—after being married so long, she has a sense of possession over it. But when she hears it next to Rachel’s, it sounds so wrong. It grates on her senses like grinding her teeth or licking a dry Paddle Pop stick would.
Lily-Rose peeks around the corner to spy Aunt June as she leads them through to the living room where Pia is waiting. A sickly sensation squeezes at her throat when she sees the back of Rachel—her long red hair and over-sized arse squeezed into bright white capris.
It’s all exuberant ‘Merry Christmas’ and ‘Happy New Year’ then ‘congratulations’—perfectly fine coming from Hugh, but the falseness of Rachel’s high-pitched voice blisters through Lily-Rose like scalding water.
“I’ll leave you three to catch up,” Aunt June says.
Lily-Rose darts back around the corner when Aunt June’s footsteps echo over the floorboards as she makes her way to the kitchen.
The Secrets Mothers Keep Page 22
