Amy blew out a frustrated breath. “Morgan, right now, it doesn’t matter what either of us say—”
“You’re damn right it fucking doesn’t! I was a piece of shit!” The coldness in Morgan’s voice broke, like the ice cracking over a frozen lake. Underneath, the fire of fury gripped her and wrung all logic from her mind. “It’s no wonder Erin doesn’t want anything to do with me. I don’t want anything to do with me! Those kids have a mother who loves the bones of ’em, they—”
“They used to have two.” Amy flung her words out like stones, and Morgan felt the sting of each one as it hit its mark.
“What?”
“You’re right, Erin does love the ground those kids walk on. But so did you. You did just as much for those kids as she did. Every damn day of their lives, until the day you walked out.” Amy jabbed a finger at Morgan’s chest. “You changed their nappies and got up in the middle of the night just as often as Erin did. Picked them up from school, took them to swimming lessons, parents’ evening. Kissed skinned knees and held them when they cried. You did all that for them.” Amy grabbed her shoulder and spun her to look at the painting. “Look at that picture. Look at those kids. Do they look like they’re unhappy to you? Look at the painting. Every time I see it—every single, fucking time—I see the love you have for those kids in every brush stroke.” She let go. “The little girl who wrapped her arms around your neck yesterday, did she look like she didn’t want to be near you? Like she wasn’t used to being held in your arms and being told—by you—that everything will be all right, because you love her. Did it?”
Nikki reached over and held Amy’s hand as Morgan stared at the picture.
It’s there, around their eyes, they’re looking at me. Looking for me. And it’s like looking in a mirror. Adored. Devoted. Loved. It’s all there, right down to those dimples. Can you love without knowing someone? She stared at the faces of her children again, and knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she could. She did. She always would.
“You made some huge mistakes, Morgan. Mistakes you may not be able to fix, especially with Erin. But those kids love you, and they need you, and no, it won’t be fucking easy, but you know what?” Amy pointed her finger at Morgan’s chest. “It doesn’t matter whether or not you find it easy. They’re your kids and you damn well better do the right thing by them. After everything you and Erin went through to have them…” She let her thoughts trail away.
“What do you mean?”
Amy shook her head and dropped onto the sofa.
“Nikki?”
“You went through months of those bloody painful injections so that you could harvest your eggs. Erin’s brother, Chris, he donated the sperm. It took four tries for Erin to get pregnant with Tristan. Every time she was devastated when they didn’t—when she wasn’t pregnant. You even offered to try carrying the baby if it failed again. That’s how much you loved her, ’cos let’s face it, you pregnant? I nearly had a heart attack when you suggested it.”
“But she did get pregnant?” Way to state the obvious, Genius!
“Yeah. She had a pretty rough time with Tristan. But not as bad as she did with Maddie.”
“What happened?”
“Erin got preeclampsia. The placenta abrupted and she had to have an emergency Cesarean section.”
“Jesus.” Morgan sat back in her chair, wincing as she landed awkwardly and jarred her tender ribs. “I don’t know what that means.”
Nikki rolled her eyes. “A placental abruption means the placenta comes away from the wall of the uterus.” Morgan still looked blank. “It can be fatal for both the baby and the mother if they don’t do a C-section. Fast.”
“I nearly lost them both?” Morgan felt the blood drain from her face.
“Yes.”
“I feel sick.”
“That’s more like it.” Nikki grinned. “If I remember right, that’s exactly what you said then.”
“I don’t want to lose them.”
“The kids?”
“Any of them.”
Nikki whistled. “Seriously. Do you remember them now?”
Morgan shook her head. “I don’t need to. I feel them.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “I love them.”
“Is that enough?”
“Did I have more than that when they were born? The first time I held them?”
“No. But they are used to more from you.”
“Then I’ll learn.” Morgan looked from Nikki to the painting again. “I have to. I can’t lose my family.”
Chapter Ten
Nikki grabbed Morgan’s arm as she turned away from the picture and headed for the door. “Where the hell are you off to?”
She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Actually, I have no idea. Where do they live?”
“Who? Erin? The kids?”
“Well, yes.”
“You want to go round now?”
“Didn’t I just say that?”
“But it’s the middle of the afternoon. What are you going to do if there’s no one in? Or better yet, what are you going to do if one of the kids answers the door?”
Morgan frowned. I didn’t think about that. “So what do you suggest?”
“Maybe it would be a good idea to see when it’s convenient for Erin to talk to you.”
“I like that.” Morgan stroked her chin unconsciously. “Thoughtful, shows I’m thinking about what’s best for her and the kids. Good idea. So…how? Do you have her number, ’cos I don’t—”
“Remember it? Yeah, I know. Do you want to call or text her?”
“Text?”
“Yeah, on her mobile—right. Sorry.” Nikki held up her mobile phone and waved it. “Modern invention that’s revolutionized communications. No one talks anymore, we text, e-mail, SMS, IM, Skype, tweet, or Facebook.”
Morgan looked at the tiny box in her hand. “When did you learn to speak Russian?”
“Trust me, M. You want your family back, you gotta get down wiv d’kids!” Nikki crossed her arms over her chest and slouched back, a shit-eating grin on her face.
Morgan stared at her, her jaw hanging slightly, and she knew the look on her face said what-the-fuck.
“It’s gangsta rap. Tristan loves it.”
“My kid’s a gangster?”
“No, it’s a kind of—you know what, it doesn’t matter right now. We’ll educate you later. Do you want to call or text Erin?”
“What do you suggest?”
“Text. It doesn’t put her under pressure to say something straight away. Gives her time to think. Also, if she’s at work, she can get the message when she finishes, or when she’s on a break, rather than it going to voice mail.”
“Oh, yeah. That’s good thinking. Give her the chance to prepare. Girls like that, right?” Morgan held up her hand to high five Nikki.
“Oh my God, it’s like watching American Pie or something. Please tell me you two weren’t this bad before?” Amy rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Nikki grinned. “Nah, I had you.” She leaned over and kissed Amy. “She was worse though.”
“Hey, I was not. What’s American pie?”
Nikki shook her head and clapped Morgan on the back. “Okay, I’ve just asked her if she’s free to talk to you.”
“Now what?”
“We wait.”
“And this is how you all communicate now?”
“Yep. Great, isn’t it?” The phone beeped. “Wow, that was fast.” Nikki stared at the screen and frowned.
“What? What is it?”
“Screwfix has a sale on. Twenty-five percent off cordless power tools and—”
Amy grabbed the phone. “Give me that. You’ll give her a heart attack.” She scanned the message quickly. “Morgan, she was teasing. It’s from Erin. She wants to know why.”
“Can you tell her that I want to talk to her about the kids, and I want to see them, and I love them. And that I want to see them—”
“You already said that.
” Nikki winked at her.
“Yeah, but I really mean it.”
Amy’s fingers danced all over the small phone. “I said you wanted to talk about the kids.”
“What about the rest of—”
“No, just that.”
“But how’s she going to know that I want to see them?”
“M, Erin’s a clever girl. She can figure that one out.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, course she is.” She pushed her fingers through her hair. “What does she do?”
“She’s an air traffic control officer.”
“Huh?”
“She directs all the planes that land at Manchester airport or fly over the airspace. Last time I talked to her about this she told me that the airport handled about eighteen million passengers a year, plus freight planes, and the planes flying through their airspace too. She’s a busy lady. Lot of people’s lives in her hands during every shift.”
“Like in that Bruce Willis movie. Die Hard?”
“Die Hard 2. That was the one at the airport.”
“Right.” Morgan started pacing before a wave of dizziness hit her. She stumbled and just managed to catch hold of the mantle shelf before she fell. Nikki was beside her and leading her to the sofa in a heartbeat.
“Take it easy, M. Are you going to throw up?”
“Don’t think so.” The phone pinged. “What does she say?”
“I’ll look in a minute. We need to make sure you’re okay first.”
“I’m fine. Just the damn balance thing. What does she say?”
Amy checked the message. “The kids aren’t due home till around six. If you can come now, then fine. If not, it’ll have to wait.”
“Okay.” Morgan tried to pull herself up, but Nikki held her in place.
“Tell Erin we’ll be there in half an hour. It’s only three, we’ve got time.”
“But—”
“But nothing. You need a few minutes, or you’re going to end up puking in my car. And that’ll just piss me off.” Nikki scowled. “Erin’s five minutes away. I’ll drop you off in half an hour.”
*
Erin grabbed magazines off the coffee table, and looked for somewhere to put them. With no suitable storage space immediately available, she lifted one of the sofa cushions, dropped the magazines, and let the cushion fall back into place. She jumped when the doorbell rang.
She walked quickly to the door then paused, one hand on the door handle and the other against her stomach, her unconscious attempt to soothe the butterflies raging inside her. Nerves or anger, she couldn’t tell.
She took a deep breath and pulled the door open, and all she saw were the coal dark eyes that still haunted her dreams and she couldn’t pull her gaze away. She could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears and she felt the heat of her blush coloring her cheeks.
Anger had sustained her since Morgan had left, but it dissipated when she saw the vulnerable Morgan whose soul she had fallen in love with fifteen years ago, the woman who still turned her knees to jelly and made her skin burn with a look.
She wanted to thread her fingers through Morgan’s hair, just to feel it on her skin. Morgan was just the same as before, tall and slim, chiseled cheekbones and full lips. The aged leather jacket mingled with the heady musky aroma that was entirely Morgan, and brought back memory after memory of their time together. Yet there was something so different about her too. The dark brooding energy that had crackled around her was gone, and in its place a restless nervousness that made her seem younger, gentler than before.
Erin backed away from the door and turned her back, leaving Morgan to enter behind her as she tried to gather her thoughts, determined to deal with the past later. Not now, when it was staring her in the face.
She glanced up at the clock. Three thirty. Fuck it. She pulled open the fridge and grabbed a bottle of wine, half demolished from the night before. She poured a large glass, and held it up to Morgan in silent question.
“No, thanks.” Morgan’s eyebrow quirked.
“Don’t look at me like that. This is an unusual situation.” She took a large drink before sitting at the table. She kept her hands wrapped around the glass, afraid if she let go, she wouldn’t be able to stop herself from touching Morgan. “So you wanted to talk about the children.”
“Yes. Can I sit down?”
She waved her hand in the direction of the chair opposite her own.
“Thank you for letting me come round.”
“You’re name’s still on the mortgage.” Erin couldn’t help herself. She felt disconcerted, seeing Morgan in their home, looking around her and not recognizing anything. She looked down at the table. They had argued about its size at a furniture auction. Morgan was certain it would fit, Erin was equally sure it would be too big. When they got it home Morgan had ended up cutting a three-foot section out of the middle and fixing it together with support batons underneath, using a mixture of wood glue and sawdust to hide the crack that ran the length of the new center. It had taken her and Tristan all day, but they’d been happy with the result. Erin had taken Maddie shopping with her for a new tablecloth.
Morgan licked her lips. “I’m sorry.”
Erin shrugged. “We can change the mortgage.”
“No.” Morgan frowned. “I mean I’m sorry about yesterday. Are the kids okay?”
“Not really.” She took another drink.
“Where are they?”
“Out.”
“Oh.”
Erin watched her push shaking fingers through her hair, and felt the table shuddering, and knew it was because Morgan’s leg was jumping. It always did when she was nervous. “What do you want?”
“I—I want to see the kids.”
Erin almost spat out the drink she had taken. “Do you now?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they’re our children. I want to see them. I want to know them.”
“And if that’s not what they want?”
“They don’t want me?”
Erin didn’t say anything. The strong lines of Morgan’s face were set with determination, only to slacken, her brows pulled together and her jaw dropped. Fear morphed into loss, and the sorrow in her soul shone from her eyes.
“Then I wo…” She started to push away from the table. “Then I’ll leave you all alone, I guess.” She walked down the hall.
Erin heard the door open. That’s it, Morgan, walk away. Leave me to pick up the pieces again.
She swallowed the rest of her drink and stood, determined to finish the bottle. It’s got to be five o’clock somewhere, right? She poured the wine and turned around. She startled and dropped the glass, holding her hand against her chest. Morgan was standing in front of her. Tears dampened her cheeks.
“I thought you left.”
Morgan shook her head. “I know I probably deserve your hatred. I’m sure I earned your contempt, and I’ve got no right to even think about asking you to forgive me for whatever I did to you. But what about our children? Don’t they deserve everything we can give them?”
“And what can you give them? Lessons in how to sound like a stupid teenager?”
“I know I have a long way to go. I have a lot of growing up to do again, or maybe for the first time. I don’t know. I’m, like—I’m really trying to do that. I’ve got a lot to relearn. About me. About them. You. I can’t even text!” She shuffled forward a pace and then stopped. “I don’t know who I was before, but from everything I’ve learned, I really think I can do better. I can be better.” She took another step closer.
“And you think I’ll risk our children on ‘I think’?”
“No, but right now, you know me better than I know myself, Erin. Was I a bad parent to them? Are they better off without me in their lives? I don’t just want to see them and walk away. I want to be there for them, with them, always. I want to know them, and for them to know me. The good and the bad. Isn’t that what families do? Help each other through the h
ard stuff. If you can tell me, right now, that they’re better off without me, that I was a bad parent to them, then I’ll go. You have my word. But if I wasn’t—if they loved me—if they still love me, don’t they deserve to know that I love them too?”
The passion in Morgan’s voice made Erin’s heart beat faster. It burned in her eyes and flushed her cheeks, and it would be so easy to believe the words as they tumbled from her lips. But passion couldn’t replace the one thing that Morgan had destroyed in Erin. Trust. Such a simple word for something so fragile and so complex. So difficult to build, but the easiest thing in the world to destroy. “You don’t even remember them. You walked away from them and didn’t look back. You never even gave us a reason. You left, and you don’t even remember why.”
“I love them. I loved them before they were born, and I will love them till the day I die. Whether they want to know me or not, doesn’t matter. I might not remember them, Erin. But I know I loved them. I still love them. I can feel it, even if I don’t know why. I want the chance to know them too.”
She didn’t know how to read Morgan’s eyes. There was panic, and love, and hurt, all pleading with her, begging her for a chance. “I don’t know—”
“Please.”
This wasn’t the Morgan she knew; her Morgan. This wasn’t the woman who had turned her back on the life they’d built and walked away. She looked the same, sounded the same, but she wasn’t.
“Please ask them. If they don’t want to know me, I’ll respect that.”
“I’ll talk to them.” Erin didn’t know if it was Morgan’s request she was giving in to, or her children’s wounds she was trying to heal, but she couldn’t say no. “But if you hurt them again, I swear to God, Morgan, I’ll make sure you don’t see them. Do you understand me?”
“Perfectly.” She bent down slowly, careful to avoid a wave of dizziness.
“What are you doing?”
“I was going to clean up the glass so the children won’t hurt themselves later.”
“I can do that.”
“I know. But I want to help.” She knelt and gathered the largest pieces into a pile. “Do you have something to wrap this in?”
Clean Slate Page 8
