The Secrets Mothers Keep

by Jacquie Underdown

  Aunt June laughs. “Is that so?”

  Lily-Rose nods and smiles. They stare at each other for a long moment, recognising the enormous disruption this revelation has made to their pasts and the changes to their future that will splinter outwards from this moment.

  “I love you very much, Lily-Rose,” Aunt June says.

  Lily-Rose leans in and wraps her arms around Aunt June’s shoulders. “I know. And I love you too.”

  After a long moment, Lily-Rose pulls away and gazes out ahead of her. With the truth, it’s like a missing puzzle piece has been uncovered from under the couch and put back in its rightful place.

  That hollow place in her heart is fuller. Not completely unscarred, but with an understanding of how things truly are, she has the information she needs to make sense of that.

  There’s a real cathartic quality to discovering the truth, even a truth as heavy and monumental as the one she has now been made privy to.

  “I’m going to head back inside and see how Mary’s going,” Aunt June says.

  “I’ll be in soon. I’m going to give Hugh a quick call.”

  Aunt June smiles, squeezes Lily-Rose’s shoulder gently and strides back into the health centre.

  Lily-Rose scrolls through her recent calls-list for Hugh, but as her thumb floats over his name, a jolt rockets through her. Tingles fan over her flesh igniting goosebumps along her arms and the back of her neck.

  This hollowness inside of her is what she has been seeking solace from all her life. This void is why Hugh couldn’t ever love her enough, despite him loving her so very much.

  She has to try and explain this to Hugh. She has to find the right words that will repair the broken shards of their marriage and make things right between them.

  But, mostly, she has to convince him that she will never ever hurt him again. Because he is enough exactly as he is. She is the one who hasn’t been enough. But now she is hopeful that she may be able to discover that place within herself where she can recognise that she is.

  Chapter 45

  Pia

  Pia’s naked image is reflected in the bathroom mirror. Below her navel is a firm but round and noticeable protrusion where life grows inside her.

  How can she have changed so much in such a small amount of time? This time last month, her stomach was almost flat.

  She has no choice now—when Luca sees her naked, which is often lately, he will know. No way can she risk him believing that this child is his, especially after the heartache he has already experienced.

  No, she has to tell him that she is pregnant and that the father is another man.

  Her insides tense like Luca is squeezing her organs between his strong fists. She should never have left it this long. She should never have allowed their emotions for each other to grow so strong.

  Bad enough that she has had to listen to a lecture from every member of her family since they discovered she was dating Luca. They said that by not telling Luca, she is misleading him.

  Misleading? Others might feel that way, but that has never been her intention at all. No way would she mislead Luca about something so momentous. Her feelings are much too strong. She loves him.

  As that word—love—fills her mind, her heart expands. That word touches on a place in her soul that resonates with truth. She does love him. Perhaps she has loved him for a while; that’s why this has been so hard.

  But enough is enough. There is no more hiding.

  Electrical saws and nail guns have been sounding all morning. Since waking, Pia has known Luca is out the back, mere metres away from her, putting the final touches on the apartments, so that they can all start moving in on Monday morning.

  All this time, she has attempted to muster the courage to march out there and speak with him and confess.

  After dressing and breakfast, before she can change her mind, Pia strides out the back. Her heart springboards up into her throat as she pokes her head into her apartment and finds him.

  He is fixing plasterwork near the internal stairs but turns to face her as she lingers in the doorway. He smiles, his deep dimples flashing.

  Such a handsome face. How can she give him this news that could potentially rip both their hearts out?

  He puts his tools down, wipes his hands. “Good morning, sexy.” He leans in and kisses her mouth. “I was hoping you’d visit me today.”

  “Is that right?”

  He nods. “How is everyone?”

  “They are all surprisingly well.”

  “Good to hear. Are they busy?”

  Pia narrows her eyes. “What do you mean by that? What are you up to?”

  He chuckles as he takes her hand and leads her up the staircase. At the top, with no warning, he grips her waist and pushes her into what will be her bedroom. His lips press to hers.

  He tugs at her shirt and lifts it over her head. “I think we need to christen your room.”

  Her heart thumps. He flings her shirt to the floor and starts on her bra, that too finding a place across the room.

  He gazes at her half-naked body and groans. “You get more and more beautiful each day. You drive me crazy, Pia. Do you know that?”

  She closes her eyes as warm tears sting. Does he have to make this so damn hard by being the most wonderful man she has ever met?

  “What’s the matter?” he asks.

  She opens her eyes and is met by his frowning face, eyes filled with worry. “I need to tell you something.”

  He stills, gaze searching hers.

  How does she find the words after all this time? How does she explain to him that she doesn’t want this pregnancy to come between them? That it doesn’t have to.

  She parts her lips to speak, but all she can manage is more tears.

  “Pia, what is going on? What’s happened? Is Mary okay?”

  “They’re all fine. It’s me.”

  He rubs her shoulder waiting for her to say what she has to say.

  “Luca, before I left San Francisco, I … I found out that I was …”

  His eyes widen. “Say it, Pia. For God’s sake, say it.”

  She gazes up at him, brow lined with confusion. “What?”

  “I have been waiting four months for you to finally admit it.”

  “You know?”

  “That you’re pregnant? Yes. I’ve known since you vomited in the rose garden, but I thought I better leave it until you were comfortable with telling me yourself.”

  Her face screws up with disbelief. “I have been agonising over this for four months and you already fucking know?”

  A small smile curls his lips. “Hey, I’m a patient man.”

  Her hands paw her hips, shoulders rolling inwards. “My god, I’ve been a hot mess about this. You should have said something.”

  He shakes his head, holds his hands up. “Hey, it’s your body, your baby. I wanted you to be comfortable.”

  She spins away from him and paces across the floor. Her breasts bounce with each angry step, reminding her that she is still half-naked. “So what does this mean … for us?” She scrubs her hands down her face as she continues to walk quickly back and forth across the room. “I can’t believe you knew all this time.”

  He chuckles. “Pia. Please stop. Come here. Let’s talk about this.”

  She stops pacing and looks around for her shirt. “I should get dressed first.”

  Again the low chuckle. “I’d rather you didn’t. I quite like this new naked-talking thing we’ve got going.”

  She glares at him, then shakes her head. He knew. He bloody well knew all this time and didn’t say a word.

  He holds out his hands. “Come here.”

  She goes to him and falls into his arms. He’s so big and warm and in these arms, protection and comfort is the only sensation.

  “I love you,” he whispers against her ear.

  She disentangles herself from him. So much passion burns in his eyes. Passion for her. “You do? Even with this baby?”

 
; He nods. “You and the baby.”

  “But the baby isn’t yours.”

  He shrugs. “This one isn’t. But it is half of you, and I love you, so I’m sure I’ll love the baby too if it resembles you even in the slightest.”

  Her lips part in absolute shock. “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I had a lot of time to think about the consequences. And I thought we’d see how it went between us. I could have waited until the baby was born, but then I’d miss out on all these months getting to know you, when I know, deep in my heart, the outcome would be the same—I’d still be here, loving you.”

  Those last two words impinge on her soul. “You love me?”

  His eyes never look away. “Very much.”

  “What about when the baby is born?”

  “That’s up to you. I can give you space if that’s what you like. Or I can be there a lot. Permanently even. It’s up to you. I want to do what will work best for us and for you as a mother.”

  Her eyes close as a tear rolls down her cheek. In that one tear, all the relief, happiness and love that she has for this man shines in every facet. “We won’t make big plans,” she says, voice choked with tears. “We’ll play it by ear.”

  “I’m okay with that. But I’m glad you finally told me.”

  She smiles a watery smile. “Me too. I really thought it would mean the end of us, and I really really didn’t want us to end because I’ve fallen in love with you too, Luca.”

  He smiles like he’s the luckiest man, big, smug and proud. “Come here.”

  She steps closer to him again.

  “So there’s nothing else you need to tell me?”

  She laughs and shakes her head. “Not a thing.”

  “Good. But can we please tell the rest of your family about us?”

  She tilts her head towards her shoulder. “They kind-of already know. They were waiting for me to tell you the baby news before they got invested in the idea, though.”

  He chuckles. “Now can we please get back to christening this room because you standing there topless is driving me wild?” He steps even closer to her and pushes her skirt down her thighs, followed by her knickers.

  For a moment, she wants to cover herself. “I’m going to get really big, Luca. Are you prepared for that?”

  He doesn’t answer right away; instead, falls to his knees and holds her hips between his hands. He kisses the mound of her belly and looks up at her. “I think you’re beautiful no matter what.”

  She smiles, heart bursting with love. “Good answer.”

  Chapter 46

  Mary

  The whirr of heavy machinery wakes Mary. She peels her eyelids open and is met with the silhouette of an unfamiliar room in the early morning darkness. It takes a good moment for her mind to catch up with her body’s whereabouts.

  She moved into the stable apartment a fortnight ago, but she still wakes during the night with a deep sense of confusion.

  Since they all moved into their apartments, the manor renovations have proceeded fast. Luca is a tough boss and has his men working to their full capacity to ensure the renovations are completed by his schedule of September 1—the first day of spring.

  Most days the beeping of trucks reversing, various electrical tools, nail guns and saws fill the air, but today’s noise is louder, more insistent, back and forth, groaning and rattling.

  She rests there among the strong scent of fresh paint, the strange feel of a new buoyant mattress beneath her back, then sits upright and gasps.

  The noise is that of an excavator or something of the sort. An excavator that Luca wanted to use to repair the footings and dig up the rose garden.

  He wouldn’t be, surely? She had told him no.

  Mary runs a hand over her lips. Her mouth is devoid of moisture and her belly is riddled with … fear.

  “I will bloody kill him,” she grumbles as she hastily rolls her legs over the side of the bed and slides her feet into slippers. She threads her arms into her dressing gown and the sounds stop. Silence.

  “You … Luca … I knew you were up to something.”

  From in her cupboard, she reaches up onto tiptoes and pulls out a long metal box. She rests it on her bed and fumbles with the code for the lock. With a click, it snaps open. Robert’s shotgun. It’s cold against her fingers and sends a shiver through her. She has not touched it since that night when June…

  She swallows hard as she checks that there is still ammunition loaded, then she shoves the gun into her pyjama’s deep pocket and ties her thick dressing gown over the top to hold it in place against her body and conceal it.

  With the recent revelation regarding Lily-Rose’s true circumstances, a floodgate of emotion has unleashed, eating away the numb sensation she has felt for decades. Like a child experiencing the emotional landscape anew after all this time, she is much more empathetic and engaged. She even cries during sad movies or a sad passage in a book.

  But emotion isn’t a sign of weakness, more a sign that she has repaired a broken part of herself left by two selfish men. If Luca is taking it as softness, then he will be sorely mistaken because her number-one priority always has and always will be the safety and happiness of this family. That hasn’t changed. That will never change.

  Mary heads out of her room, down the stairs, holding tightly to the firm handrail, and rushes as fast as she can with her stiff clicky knee.

  At the bottom of the stairs, another noise starts up—a loud crashing and grinding sound. It grates on her like she is tensing her jaw and scraping her teeth together.

  “What the bloody hell is that boy doing?” She hoists open the front door. A bright slice of the moon is still visible in the sky, but the bleeding colours of the rising sun are showing just above the horizon in the distance, illuminating the darkness with pink and orange shadowy light.

  She checks her watch. Barely six am. He isn’t allowed noisy tools like this before seven. Although, it’s not like she has close neighbours, a factor that has proven fruitful in the past. Even still, not once in the last five months has Luca broken the community laws regarding construction start times. He has to be up to something that devious bastard.

  Over the gravelled drive, she rushes, her footsteps noisy in the early morning, though nowhere near as obtrusive as that incessant grinding. She heads down the side of the manor towards the front of the house.

  And sure enough, in the front yard is a big yellow excavator and a wood chipper. Next to that is a cement mixer. No lights are on and the equipment casts shadows over the front lawn. But even amidst the shadows, the destruction of her rose garden is evident—a patch of ripped-up soil remains.

  Her hand flings to her chest as she gasps.

  Footsteps come up from behind. “Mary?” comes his deep whisper.

  She spins to face Luca.

  He has a warm enough smile. “I didn’t expect to see you up so early. Come to check up on me, have you?”

  She gazes at him, then to the torn up wasteland that was once her rose garden, and back to him, eyes wide. “What are you bloody well doing?”

  “I’m doing you a favour. I gave you a chance to let me handle it. Many opportunities, in fact, but you chose to remain as stubborn as an old stain. So, I took matters into my own hands.”

  She narrows her eyes at him, eyebrows lowering. “What do you mean?”

  He smiles. “I’m pretty sure I don’t need to spell it out.”

  “No. No, I think you do. Come with me now. We need some privacy while we discuss this.” She marches away, not waiting for him to object.

  He catches up to her and easily keeps stride beside her as they head back to her apartment. He doesn’t say anything. Good. The last thing they need is everyone else waking and making a big fuss.

  She and Luca will handle this alone.

  Mary pushes through her door and holds it open for him while he takes off his work boots before coming inside, still wearing his socks. The thoughtfulness and respect it has
taken for him to do that, despite the circumstances, doesn’t escape her attention.

  “Your feet don’t stink, do they?”

  He chuckles low. “No, my feet don’t stink.”

  She shuts the door. “Good.” Then gestures to the lounge. “Now take a seat. We need to discuss the matter of the rose garden.”

  A small smile curls the corners of his mouth.

  “I’m not sure what you find so amusing, Luca.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  “You do, do you? And how should I be reacting?”

  He leans back, fingers linked as they rest on the back his head, elbows out wide. “By trusting me. I thought I made it clear right from the beginning that I’m a professional. I take my responsibilities very seriously. If that means cleaning up a little leftover sloppiness, then so be it.”

  Her legs are weak beneath her. This is not what she had anticipated at all. She expected him to be flustered and rattling on about how he found a skeleton in her front rose garden.

  Perhaps he hasn’t found it after all.

  “Tell me what you know. Every detail,” she says.

  “I found something.”

  “What?” she snaps.

  “Julian Romero’s skeleton.”

  Her heart skips a beat. He knows the skeleton by name. How can that be? No one knows.

  She hates that she is going to have to threaten him, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Inconspicuously as possible, but swiftly, she unties her dressing gown and lifts out the shotgun. His eyes fall to it as she holds the butt against her shoulder, the barrel held steady.

  He holds his hands up very slowly. “I thought it might have gone this way.”

  “Where did you get those details?”

  “My grandmother was once married to Julian Romero.”

  Mary’s heart thuds, then races away. “Maria?”

  “Yes. Maria Romero, but she later became Maria Marchetta when she married my grandfather.”

  She shakes her head, brow furrowed with confusion. “What do you know?”

  “I know what my grandmother told me. She said Julian was a vile man. He was charming and intelligent, but he beat her often. He also had many lovers.”