“Oh, that could be fun.”
He frowned.
“Fine.” She thumbed the radio dial and flicked through the stations. “I’m not exactly over the moon about the prospect of spending the afternoon with Mum. I’d much rather just hang with you at the beach. This whole Al thing has my brain out of whack. I don’t know if I’m coming or going.”
“Your visit won’t be long.” He rubbed her leg. “Then we’ll have the day all to ourselves. And you’ll be coming, by God I’ll make sure of that.”
“Is that a promise?”
He nodded. “Maybe we can visit a few of our old haunts? The Cream ‘n Coffee perhaps? Their chocolate ice cream is—”
“The bestest ever. With raspberry syrup and nut sprinkles on top. Yes. Can we go there first?”
He crossed his brows. “For breakfast?”
“Torquay ice cream is perfect for any meal of the day.”
“Best to see your mum first. Otherwise, you’ll be distracted all day and thinking of how the visit will go.”
Dennis was right, of course.
He swerved around the bend and pulled up outside the little house she’d grown up in. He unbuckled his seatbelt and removed the keys from the ignition.
“No,” she snapped. “I want to do this alone.” Sucking in a long breath, she gathered her courage.
“You sure?”
“No, but that’s what I’m going to do.” She turned to exit the car. “I need to stand on my own two feet for this one.”
“You don’t have to.” Leaning toward her, he entwined his fingers in hers and kissed her cheek. “I’m here for you.”
“I know, but I should go in there alone.” Really, I should. She stepped onto the street she’d played hopscotch on as a child and slammed the car door behind her. Her breath caught in her throat. No going back. She gulped then curled her hand around the wrought iron clasp of the gate to her childhood home. The chipped, powdered surface scraped her thumb and stung a little. Much like her heart. Tension pulled her muscles taut. She wiggled and hoisted the old thing open, the familiar squeaking of the rusted metal brackets making her flinch. Last time she’d endured that noise, it’d been close to midnight some twelve years earlier. The very same creaking had split through the still night, and the light in her mother’s bedroom had come on. Seconds later, Mum had peered between the curtains, curlers dangling and sporting an emotionless stare. Upon laying eyes on her with suitcase in tow, her mother had done nothing to stop her from leaving. Just let the curtain fall and turned out her light.
Here Louisa was again. No suitcase, but she’d bet a barrage of I-told-you-so finger points still waited for her.
She glanced over her shoulder at Dennis in his little black car curbside.
“Sure you don’t want me to come with you?” he hollered.
“I’m sure. This is something I have to do on my own. And Al won’t be here, he doesn’t know anything about my mum. As far as he’s concerned, I’m from London.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” He frowned. “You know where to find me if you need me?”
She nodded and pointed to the beach bursting with teens dressed in neon shirts without a care in the world. She envied them in many ways until she remembered her own troubles as a teen and sighed with relief. She was her own woman, finally. “Out there. I want you to catch the most magnificent wave for me.”
“You know it, baby.” He winked. “Good luck. I’ll be thinking of you.”
She slammed the gate behind her and tottered along the cobblestone driveway. The little bungalow on Seaside Drive was sandwiched between two towering Victorian semis that had served as B&Bs for as long as she could remember. Her mother’s home seemed tiny in comparison.
The planters she’d arranged at the green door still sat there but were now packed with blossoming flowers. When she’d left here at eighteen, there had only been plant carcasses abandoned by her mother and left to dry.
She reached the little glass porch her father had built; paint chipping off, and splits all through the concrete base that ran across to the side of the door.
Hesitant, she considered turning back.
Dennis’s car rattled, alerting her that he hadn’t left yet. She called over her shoulder, “Go on, Dennis. I’m a big girl and can take care of myself.”
“I’ll wait ’til she gets to the door, then I’ll zap off.”
She rapped on the door. “Mum.”
Shrill tones of her mother chirping and singing out an old Cher song, “It’s In His Kiss,” grew louder. Her mum swung the door open, her mouth agape.
Louisa gulped. She wanted to ask when she’d had her last drink. The only time her mother sang was when she had swigged a lot of whiskey. After finding the end of the bottle, she would whimper and cry instead.
She looked healthy. Her red, short hair was styled with volume, and her blue eyes glowed with a smile. “Louisa, sweetie, you came home.” She flung her arms around her and squeezed her tight. “You came home.”
“Hi, Mum. You look good.” Unsure of how to respond to the embrace, she patted her on the back then slunk out from under her grasp.
“Come in, come in. Wanna cup of tea? I’ve a pot brewing as we speak. And I’ve got your favorite biscuits in. Shortcakes. I know how much you love my homemade biscuits. Always make a batch in case you come for a visit. They go down well at Coffee ’n Cream. Oh, I serve drinks there. From time to time, I bake those biscuits when the deliveries are late.”
Louisa should have complimented her mother on getting her life together, but being in that house again spiraled her back to when breakfast was a time of fixing coffee to sober her mum up instead of prepping for school, of checking cabinets for hidden bottles to empty before leaving, and of broken mugs and spoiled bread.
“You’re working?” At my favorite hangout?
“I am. I’ve been living clean for a long while. When you left, it made me see what a bad mother I’d been. I wanted so much to be better when you came back.”
“It took me leaving for you to realize that?”
Her mother nudged her right shoulder forward a tad, like half a shrug. “I guess.”
“Then you should have let me go stay with the Bays when they offered.”
Her mother brought her finger to Louisa’s lips and shushed her before scurrying to the kitchen. She returned with a plate of baked goodies and a proud grin. She shoved the crockery under Louisa’s nose. “Have one.”
“I had to pay all the bills, clean house, care for you as if I was the parent, and then do a full day at school and three hours a night dancing. Bloody hell, Mum, I even had to hide the cheque book so you didn’t waste Dad’s life insurance payout on booze. How could you not see that I’d be better off under someone else’s care?”
“That was you? I used to go crazy looking for that thing.” Her mother threw her arms up and smiled.
Smiled?
Louisa gritted her teeth and tried calming herself before saying, “Yes, I know. I got a nice smacker of a red mark across my face to remember it by.” Louisa’s hands balled; it was all she could do to not storm out, never to return.
“I only hit you once. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I was drunk.”
“I would have been better off living with Jane’s family and you know it. I ate there most nights anyway. So why didn’t you let me go?”
Her mother grabbed shortcake and rammed it at her. “Go on, have a biscuit. I know you love them.”
“I only loved them because it meant you had been sober long enough to actually consider me for a change. I mean, I know you’re clean, but you’re still ignoring me. I asked you a question. Why didn’t you let me stay with the Bays? They’re good people, and they only wanted what was best for me.”
Her mother slumped and she crossed her arms.
Louisa’s temples throbbed, and she trembled, but she’d be damned if she didn’t stay until she had some closure, some understanding of why. “Didn’t I deserve a stable
life?”
“That’s not fair, Louisa.”
“You want to talk about fair?” She stormed into the kitchen, pressed her hands against the worktop and took a calming breath before turning to her mother and saying, “Do you even know the shit you gave me? Or did all that liquor drown it out?”
“I love you. Can’t you see that? For any mother to give away their child is…the worst pain any parent could imagine. I’d lost John. I couldn’t lose you, too.”
“And I lost you both. When we buried Dad, we might as well have buried you, too.”
“Oh, dear. I loved John so very much. When he died, I felt lost.” Her mum flicked at a bracelet. “This is all so difficult, isn’t it? Can’t we put my illness in the past? I can make it up to you. Sit, go on to the living room. I’ll bring the goodies through.”
Louisa shuffled into the lounge and sat, her head a mess of confusion. Not once had it occurred to her that her mother had hurt, too. Louisa had lost her father, but her mum had lost her husband. The love of her life. Tears gathered and trickled down her cheeks, and a lump formed in her throat. She wiped away the salty liquid and saw the living room with fresh perspective. The house was not at all how it had been. Sure, the outside needed a lot of work, but the inside had been renovated; new country-style kitchen, freshly painted lemon-yellow walls, and slate-tile floor. And not a single pot in the sink. Usually, the kitchen stank from the jumble of dirty dishes and stale food left out. The living room was a pretty grayish-blue and housed solid, expensive looking furniture.
The fireplace had a new surround, and pictures of her from all her shows lined the mantel. She rose and counted them, recalling each of the performances. Twenty-six—no, twenty-seven. Her mum had twenty-seven photographs of her on stage. “You saw all of these shows?”
“No, I didn’t dare intrude without your permission. But I did buy programs from all the shows I knew about and snipped out my favorite pictures. You are this amazingly talented woman. Not because of me, but despite me.”
Tears streamed down Louisa’s face, and erratic breathing took over. She let out a long breath to bring calm. “Oh, crap. Mum, why didn’t you get in touch with me sooner?”
“Because I wanted you to be as proud of me as I am of you, I wanted to have my act together completely before asking you to let me into your life. I had to be sure I wouldn’t be poisonous to your happiness.”
“So, why did you choose to reach out to me now?”
“It’s good news, my baby.”
“Go on.”
“As you can see, I’m better. So, so much better.”
Louisa exhaled and let the tension in her roll from her muscles. Her mother had been thinking of her all these years. With patience, they might be able to get to a good place again.
She sat and ushered Louisa to join her on the sofa. “I’ve been sober for six years.” Her mother glanced over the photographs, a heavy sigh raising her chest. “I tried reaching you about a year ago, but Jane claimed she didn’t have a number for you.”
“That’s because I wasn’t in touch with her before.” Louisa sat beside her mother.
“I’m sorry to hear that. You two were always so close.”
“We will be again, hopefully.”
“I hope for the same thing for the two of us. Luke would like to see that, too.”
“Luke?”
“I’m getting married.” Her mother’s eyes lit with passion. “I’ve been waiting, we’ve been waiting, for you to give us your blessing.”
“Silly, why would you wait for me? If you love each other, then—”
“I told Luke I would only marry him if I had you as my maid of honor. And the amazing man he is, he understood my needs. You remember Luke, right?”
“Landscaper Luke? Always handy, a real catch. Well done, Mum.” She placed her hand over her mother’s and patted. “I’m glad you found such a good man to take care of you. He’s sweet, and a great cook.”
“I am very lucky, indeed.”
“Did he do these renovations?”
“Yes, and he’s repainting everything outside, too. He takes good care of me. He told me he used to make you dinners on occasion when I was…when I was….”
“Not yourself? Yes, thank goodness for the kindness of strangers. His spag-bol is out of this world.”
“I hope we can put the past behind us. Can you be happy for me?”
“Of course, I’m happy for you, Mum.” She rose. “That kettle must have boiled. That cuppa still on offer?”
“You betcha.” Her mother trundled to the kitchen and went about brewing tea. The clanging of pots and pans comforted Louisa. “When I heard about your engagement,” she called from the kitchen, “and that you were staying with Jane for a while, I said to Luke that instead of having you as the maid of honor, that perhaps we could do a double wedding. Is that too much?”
“A double wedding?” Louisa chuckled. Mum may be better, but she still had a terrible memory. “I’m not getting married. Unless you know something I don’t.”
“Luke got in touch with that lovely Italian dancer Alfonso of yours a few days back. Oh, my. He is so sweet, told me you were back in the city. That’s why I called Jane. I can see why you’re in love with him. Such a nice man. Anyway, yesterday, he came all the way out here to meet me. What a doll.”
“What?” Frozen to the spot, her limbs tightened and her hands shook.
“He said I should buy a hat, hinting he might propose to you right after his visit with me. That’s why I nagged Jane to pass a message on for you to get in touch. She didn’t want to, that’s for sure, said you had a lot on your plate. Of course, you do, but a woman should never have to plan a wedding without her mother.”
Louisa raced to the kitchen. “What else did he say, Mum?”
“That he cherishes you, worships the ground you walk on. You are so very lucky.” She clapped her hands and threw her arms around her. “I’m so glad you came.”
She grabbed her mum’s shoulders and shook her, “Al said we’re getting married? What else did he say?”
“What is it, LouLou?”
Hearing that name turned her into a five-year-old, brought her back to the day she had sobbed in the kitchen because of a bully at school. Her mother had called her LouLou on the rare occasions she gave a crap. She crouched and cradled herself. “How can he know where you live? Please say you didn’t tell him where Jane lived or that you gave out her number.”
“I don’t understand.” Her mother bent and wrapped her arms around her. “Whatever it is, I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing.”
“Mum, please, did you tell him her address or phone number?”
“I’m not sure. No, wait, I didn’t. I definitely didn’t.”
“Oh, thank God.” She flung her arms around her mother, and, for the first time, allowed herself to take solace in the parental embrace.
Pulling away, her mother asked, “What’s this all about?”
“I left him. I need you to know that. He’s no good. If he comes back, don’t answer the door. Okay? I’ve gotta call the police.” Louisa pulled out her mobile phone and paced the kitchen.
Her mother followed. “But—”
“But nothing, Mum. If only you knew what he put me through. He’s not right in the head.” She stilled and fled to the front door. “I must find Dennis…”
“He’s here? Oh, that boy. I love him.”
“You love everyone, Mum.”
“I love you.”
“Uh-huh.” She turned the handle to leave.
“You’re not going already, are you?” Her mother joined her side and pouted. “But I made biscuits.”
“I have to, Mum.”
“But what about being a bridesmaid?”
“We’ll talk another time, okay? I have to get to Dennis.” Have to feel safe in his arms.
“I am sorry, you know that don’t you?”
“Yeah, I do. Hey, I’ll call you.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” She opened the door and stepped into the garden. Turning, she said, “Say hi to Luke for me.”
She beamed, tears welling. “Will do. Love you. Come back soon.” She waved from the door.
Louisa turned. “Mum?”
“Yes, LouLou?”
“Please lock the door and remember to call the police if Al comes back?”
“Of course.”
She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and said, “I love you.” She meant it, too.
Chapter Ten
Dennis suited up into his surf gear and raced to the ocean. He battled against the ocean’s wild current until way beyond the foaming break. There, he sat atop his board and waited, the frigid liquid lapping at his thighs. Bigger waves would come soon. He waited with nothing but him and the wide-open space…and his thoughts to battle with. The idea he couldn’t be there for Lola drove him insane. He wanted to make her life better again, to fix her. She needed to see that she wasn’t weak, but she had to realize that for herself. He hoped the visit was going okay, that Lola was getting what she needed from her mother.
Swells of a promising wave bumped the water around him so he leapt to his knees, and at the right moment, took stance and rode the ocean. Muscles pulled taut, distracted by his Lola, he crashed under the rip.
This wouldn’t do. Pride made him get back out there and pull his focus on the surf. Sure, he was out of practice, but he soon got into the swing of it and caught wave after wave. He glided ashore, a sense of completion filling him. He hoped he could make the move back home, get back to surfing on a daily basis again. The ocean calmed him.
Guilt ransacked him when he fell upon the sand. It seemed wrong to be riding out his victory of love on the surf while the woman who gave him these chills faced her alcoholic mother for the first time in twelve years.
Like Lola hadn’t been through enough this year already.
He grabbed his board and dragged it inland, toward his towel and pile of clothes, and… Lola? She sat on the sand, hands covering her eyes and knees tucked to her chest. Her shoulders shook, and her shimmering hair had fallen over her face. What had her mother done to her? Lola was meant to be empowered after seeing her, not broken. He couldn’t have her hurting, no way.
What Lola Wants (London Dolls Book 1) Page 9
