Finding Elizabeth

by Louise Forster

  “Mum?”

  Margaret threw the rug aside and surged to her feet. “Katy,” she whispered, her mouth trembling.

  Quickly, Katherine wrapped her arms around her mother and held her tight. “I’m sorry I ran off. But it did give me time to think. I don’t like that you kept this from me all these years. At the same time, I understand why you needed to. It’s all quite bizarre, isn’t it?”

  “Can I ever put this right?” Margaret’s eyes welled.

  “You don’t have to! It will take me a while to come to terms with this. I love you, Mum.”

  Her mother began to shake. Loss and injustice mixed with anger. “They were so sure—” she said.

  “Who was?”

  “I received a letter from Australian Army Intelligence or whatever they’re called. They said Andrew Riley, reported missing, now dead.”

  Katherine gave her mother a look and a yes-but shrug. “They didn’t find the bodies. They just disappeared. It happens.”

  Margaret shook her head in utter disbelief. “He’s alive.” Hands covering her face, she doubled over and sobbed.

  Katherine rested her cheek against her mother’s shoulder. When the crying turned to sniffles, her mother straightened, and Katherine asked, “Will you be okay, Mum?”

  Margaret placed her hand on Katherine’s arm. “It’s a crazy world, but like you, I need time to adjust. Part of me is rejoicing: a man I thought was dead isn’t—it’s wonderful. It’s the biggest shock of my life, but what a truly wonderful gift.” A smile eased into her face, but in seconds it was gone. “I suppose Andrew has been told?” She looked down at the photos and handed one to Katherine. “This is how he remembers me. This one was taken in Sydney, and this at Bondi Beach.”

  “And you look just as beautiful now. I’m sure Andrew is a stooped, wrinkly old man.” Katherine gazed at the photo. “You’re wearing a cute bikini.” She kissed her cheek, turned the photo over and read the back. In Andrew’s handwriting it said: Ellie, my Bondi Beach babe. “Andrew knows Jack’s found you.” She paused, wondering how far she should go. In for a penny …?

  “You’ve got a funny look on your face again,” her mother said. “Don’t tell me there’s a whole clan of Rileys, brothers and sisters you’ve never met?”

  “No. But personally, I would’ve liked that. He has Jack, his stepson.”

  “I’m surprised Andrew didn’t have more children; he adored kids. Is he still married?”

  “No, but I’ll get to that in a minute. I briefly spoke to Andrew. He seems a lovely man; I can understand why you were so in love …” The pang of betrayal of her dad Henry, caught Katherine’s breath. She did her best to keep herself in check.

  “We were—and look what we made.” Margaret cupped Katherine’s face. “And you know what? If we hadn’t, Henry wouldn’t have had the joy of you.”

  Tears choked Katherine’s voice. “Thanks, Mum, that’s beautiful.” She tried to smile.

  Talking over coffee by the fire, Katherine gave her mother all the news, including how Jack and his mother Grace had met Andrew. She also explained about the addition to the family, her dog Bubbles.

  “The Bubbles—Peggy’s dog? Good Lord! I’ve seen her, she’s the size of a bear. Where is she now?”

  “With Jack.”

  Her mother had that faraway look. “What a nightmare Grace and Jack went through. Andrew would’ve been such a blessing for her.” Margaret turned Andrew’s ring and faced the diamond towards the fire; it sparkled and danced with reflected light.

  Katherine looked at her mother’s hands. “What are you going to do with that beautiful ring? It represents so much.”

  “I hadn’t thought.” Margaret handed it back to Katherine.

  “I don’t want it. It’s yours, not mine,” Katherine said. “The man I marry will buy me a ring.” Katherine slipped the ring back onto the chain and handed it to her mother. “Here, put this somewhere safe.”

  “I’ll put it back in the biscuit tin.”

  “I think it’s been in there long enough.” Katherine fastened it around her mother’s neck.

  “You’re probably right. I should take a leaf out of my own book and embrace what’s happening now,” Margaret said, placing her hand over the heavy ring.

  “When you’re ready, we should make our way to Jack’s place. Dave, Leandra and Cynthia are there, and so is Pierre. They’ll be chewing their fingernails waiting.”

  “Well, we can’t have that. I’m all right to go. Tired, but I couldn’t get to sleep if I tried.”

  “I’ll call a taxi.”

  Ten minutes later, Katherine held out her hand for her mother as they walked arm in arm up to the top of the drive for the waiting taxi.

  “How long have you known Jack and his friend Dave?”

  “I met Jack the day I arrived at the cabin.” Katherine didn’t have to look; she knew her mother studied her every move. She added, “Has it only been a week? It seems longer.”

  “You like him, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do. A lot. He’s told me he loves me.”

  “And you?” her mother asked, surprised.

  “I can’t imagine living without him.” Katherine cleared her throat. “Something has to be worked out, but I don’t know what. Jack has a life in Australia of all places. How much further can a person go?”

  “The Antarctic?” Margaret asked, tongue in cheek.

  “Very funny, Mum. I can’t see myself anywhere else but Canada,” Katherine said, flatly.

  “You’re just trying to protect yourself against something you desperately don’t want to happen. Remember Chance?”

  “Of course, how could I forget? But that was fourteen years ago.”

  “Falling deeply in love and not having it returned can leave scars, honey.”

  Katherine glanced at her mother. She paused, mulling it over. “I …” she began. “You really think? I saw him a few days ago; he wanted to take me to the Christmas dance. I couldn’t believe it. He could not remember what he did or how cruel he was. And it amazed me how angry and hurt I still felt.”

  “‘The first cut is the deepest.’ Nothing else mattered after that except your career, which became your whole life. It’s time you relaxed. Have a little faith, have a little fun. You and Jack haven’t known each other long, but it was the same with Andrew and me. The love, the connection, was so strong, life couldn’t continue without it. Don’t throw that away.”

  “No.” Katherine shook her head. “It’s all starting to make sense. I clung to the fact that Jack lived thousands of miles away, but in reality I couldn’t let go of something that happened in my teens. Leandra kept saying not all men will leave you. She said I should forgive Dad for leaving.” She giggled softly. “Everyone knew, except me.”

  On edge, Jack paced the floor. Now and then, he stopped to stare out the chalet window, hoping he’d see Katherine’s taxi pull up.

  “Dear boy,” Pierre said, “that’s not going to get them here any quicker.”

  “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Cynthia pleaded, voice croaky from fatigue and distress. “Something must have happened. Is it Katherine—is there something wrong with our Katy? Pierre, do you know?”

  “I’m sorry, Cynthia.” Looking worried, Pierre inclined his head. “I can’t say.”

  “Okay, Mum, I’ll tell you what I know, but you might want to sit down,” Leandra suggested.

  “Oh, now that’s really helpful.” Cynthia’s voice wobbled. “Has someone died?”

  “It’s a shock, but no one’s died.” Jack put in. “You could say the opposite is true.”

  “Oh my lord!” Cynthia exclaimed. “Who’s pregnant?”

  “Mum!” Leandra complained.

  “Well, what am I expected to think?” Cynthia declared, batting her black lashes and tucking a stray blonde curl back under a hairgrip.

  With Dave and Leandra’s help, and the occasional comment from Pierre, Jack filled Cynthia in on all the news.<
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  As she listened quietly, shock, disbelief and compassion crossed Cynthia’s face.

  “There you go, Mum—Mum? Are you all right?”

  Thinking Cynthia was going to faint, Jack leaned forward and said, “It’s all right. I figured you knew Andrew was Kate’s dad. You and Margaret are like sisters and she would’ve shared her exciting news.”

  Cynthia’s eyes lost that shocked stare; she looked at Jack and he nodded.

  Dave turned up with a glass of water and wrapped Cynthia’s hands around the glass. “Drink,” he ordered.

  She took a sip, and then another. Slowly, colour returned to Cynthia’s face. “Give me a few minutes to process this.” She took a deep breath.

  Mumbling about unnecessary family dramas, Pierre wandered over to the drinks cabinet and mixed Cynthia and himself a Scotch.

  Crisis over, Jack eased himself into a chair.

  “I didn’t twig at all when we were introduced,” Cynthia said to Jack. “It has been thirty-two years and I’m suffering from jetlag; I suppose I can be forgiven for not connecting the dots. Margaret swore me to secrecy at the time. I understood how she felt and kept my promise.” Cynthia downed the rest of the water. “I remember Andrew being an honest and loyal man.”

  “Nothing’s changed,” Jack said.

  “Um … did Andrew ever mention Mike Smithson?” Cynthia asked.

  “Sure, many times,” Jack said. “Andrew has great memories. He didn’t talk about what happened very often, but when he did, he used to say, ‘There’s always a place at my table for Mike’.”

  Cynthia bowed her head and stared at her hands. A tear fell from the tip of her nose. She raised her chin and, with a question in her eyes, looked straight at Jack.

  “I’m sorry, Cynthia,” Jack said. “There’s no mistake, Mike died instantly. Andrew wanted to visit Mike’s grave. He went back to the villages in Cambodia and Laos. Andrew showed them a sketch of Mike’s tattoo: the name Cynthia across a pin-up girl. Recognising it, they took him to Mike’s gravesite, nodded, smiled and said Mike was a good man and would return one day.” Jack put his hands together Buddhist style and bowed. “They said this with great love and understanding of Mike.”

  Cynthia’s tears flowed. Leandra sat by her mother, holding her hand and murmuring softly.

  On his way back to the window, Jack heard Cynthia say, “Your dad would’ve loved you to bits, and he would’ve been so proud.”

  “Thanks, Mum.” Leandra grabbed a handful of tissues. “I know we haven’t talked about him for years, but I just want to say thanks for not keeping Mike a secret, because this news must be so hard on Kate right now.”

  “Given time, Margaret and Kate will both be okay.” Cynthia turned to Jack and asked, “Why did the army declare Andrew dead?”

  “Andrew had lost his papers in one of the villages, and to be safe, the villagers burnt them. Misleading information did the rest.” Jack shrugged.

  She nodded. “I guess it’s back to Spain and the pool boy then,” Cynthia quipped and quietly laughed at her own joke.

  Pierre handed Cynthia her Scotch. “Thought you may need this.”

  “Jack … Jack!” Dave called from the kitchen.

  “Yeah, coming.” Reluctant to leave his stakeout at the window, Jack ambled over to his friend. “What’s up?”

  “Kate and her mum will get here without you standing guard,” Dave said. “We’re ordering takeout, any suggestions?”

  “Soup.” With a constricted chest and a stampede happening in his stomach, Jack couldn’t imagine anything but liquid sliding down his throat.

  “What?!” Dave pulled a face and scratched his head. “Come on. You can do better than that.”

  Bubbles sat between them, looking from one to the other with a sock in her mouth, her tail swishing back and forth on the hardwood floor.

  “Minestrone?” Jack shrugged.

  “That doesn’t sound too bad. I’ll order a bucket load.” Dave’s eyes darted to where Leandra was sitting with her mother. “Excuse me, Lea, do you eat garlic bread?”

  “Yes, and lots of it,” she said.

  He may have given Jack his usual cheeky grin, but his soft brown eyes told another story: Dave was love sick.

  Jack kept his chuckle to a minimum.

  “Just making sure,” Dave said. “I’m looking out for Lea, don’t want to munch on garlic if she doesn’t.”

  “Yep, I’m looking out for Katherine.” Jack smiled, understanding only too well. “That’s why the window is my friend.”

  “Yeah,” Dave gave him a comical but horrified look. “I’m even thinking of …” he leaned in closer and whispered, “babies.”

  “You?” Jack grinned, and narrowed his eyes to stare at Dave. “You love Lea—I mean really love her.”

  Dave snapped around to look at Leandra—seriously look. Back to Jack he said. “Yes, why? She’s in my head all damn day. I want to … want to …”

  “Yeah Dave, I know what you want,” Jack nodded, then whispered from the side of his mouth. “Fucking tell Lea you love her.”

  “I have, but she either gets hostile or walks out the room shaking her head. She can’t accept that I love her.”

  “Have you told Lea, in a serious way—no joking and making fun?”

  Dave paused and had one of those one-hundred-yard-stare moments. He looked up, his face contorted with pain and worry.

  “Dave,” Jack warned, “tell Lea, and no jokes.”

  An hour later a steaming pot of soup sat ready on the kitchen bench. Jack scanned the long refectory table. The candles made it look fittingly festive for the occasion. A roaring fire made it perfect.

  Jack ushered Cynthia to a place at the head of the table, leaving the other end vacant for Margaret. Dave and Leandra sat opposite him, next to Pierre.

  The doorbell chimed and everyone jumped. Bubbles whined. It couldn’t be anyone other than Katherine and her mother. Jack took a deep breath and pushed his chair back to go answer the door.

  Dave got up and mumbled something about, should’ve put some music on, and followed Jack, while holding Bubbles by the collar. On edge, Jack wondered what Margaret’s reaction would be—hopefully favourable and not why did you come here and wreck my daughter’s life—and mine?

  Shit.

  Jack turned the handle, and with one quick concerned glance over his shoulder at Dave, he opened the door. “Kate, and you must be Margaret, please come in.” He closed the door and took their coats.

  Bubbles jumped about like a puppy.

  “Oh good lord,” Margaret exclaimed, settling the dog with a pat on the head. “I knew you were big, but up close you’re even bigger than I expected. And she’s got something in her mouth.”

  “You’re just in time. Dinner’s ready. I’m Jack Riley,” he said, right hand extended while his other yanked at a pair of jocks in Bubbles’ mouth. “And this is Dave Wilson.”

  “Lovely to meet you both,” Margaret said. Her discerning gaze lingered on Jack as he turned to kiss Katherine on the mouth.

  “Come on through.” Jack ushered them into the dining area and suddenly it was like all hell had broken loose in a henhouse. He could barely keep up with the talking between the four women, so he stopped trying. He figured Katherine would enlighten him about anything important.

  The minestrone soup was delicious, and no one worried or fussed about the growing pile of plates in the kitchen. The banter between Dave and Leandra, Cynthia and Dave, Margaret, Cynthia and Pierre, Katherine, Dave, Leandra and Pierre made Jack’s head spin. Not used to family gatherings, he realised these events were clearly missing in his and Andrew’s lives. He savoured every animated moment.

  To get everyone’s attention, Margaret tinkled her glass with a spoon. “Since everyone knows about Andrew, I want to ask what’s going to happen next?” She turned to Katherine, and Jack held his breath. “Katy, do you know, sweetheart?”

  “I, um—why me?” Katherine protested. She looked around the tab
le for help and got none. She groaned and rolled her eyes, and Jack wanted to laugh. “Mum, you’re the most important person in this,” Katherine shot back. And to Jack she said, “Andrew too, of course.”

  Jack smiled encouragement, and gave her a whatever-you-decide shrug.

  She took a deep breath and looked at her mum. “I don’t want to do anything that will hurt your feelings. I’ve already told Andrew I would like to meet him, but …”

  “That’s settled then.” Margaret raised her glass. “I think it’s a great idea. I want to see him too.”

  Cynthia dabbed her eyes. “Oh god, I so love being part of this.” She looked up, eyes bright. “Don’t think for a moment I’m going to be left out either,” she said, wagging her finger at Margaret.

  “I wouldn’t dream—” Margaret told her.

  “Or me,” Pierre put in.

  “How’re we going to do this?” Jack asked. “All fly to Australia—get Andrew to come here? What do you think?”

  “That’s seven people flying south, or one flying north,” Margaret said. “It makes more sense to ask Andrew to come here, don’t you think?” she asked everyone.

  “All in favour, raise your glass.” Jack scanned the table. “What’s with you, Dave?”

  “I thought it was a family vote.”

  “Dave …” Jack sighed.

  “Sure, bring Andrew here. My place? Your place?” He looked like a lost puppy.

  “Not the cabin. I’m not ready for that yet,” Margaret said. “And not a restaurant either. Pierre, what do you think?”

  “I’d say my place, but it’s too small to fit everyone.”

  “How about right here? It’s almost neutral territory and big enough,” Jack suggested.

  “Thank you, Jack, that’s sounds perfect,” Margaret told him, fiddling nervously with her napkin.

  Chapter 12

  Sun poured into Jack’s bedroom window and hit Katherine smack on the forehead. She opened one eye. “You didn’t close the drapes properly.”

  Jack’s hand slid firmly over her belly and gave her a delicious massage. “Morning, sleepy head,” he whispered, kissing her softly on the mouth.