I walked down the street, hailed a cab and made my way to Ryan’s apartment. My little girl was asleep on the couch when I got there, looking angelic and sweet. Heinous Treasure was by her side, looking … well, heinous.
After a few digs at my costume from Ryan, and a few half-hearted threats of violence from me, I gathered up my baby and headed to the door.
“Don’t forget this beauty,” called Ryan, rushing over with Treasure in hand.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
“No problem.” He grinned. “We’d be sleeping with one eye open with her here.”
I grabbed the doll with my free hand and shook it, making her wonky eyes flutter. “Just like Treasure.”
***
Bridget was wide awake by the time we got home, but still insisted that I carry her. “My legs don’t work at night time,” she explained.
The elevator door slid open and I slowly moved toward our door. “Lucky I’m here to carry you then, huh?”
“Yes,” she replied. “Mummy can’t carry me far.”
It was the first time she’d mentioned Charli since I picked her up. The reason why became obvious the second we walked in the door. Bridget thought her mom would be there waiting for us.
“She’ll be home later, baby.” It wasn’t the black kind of lie that Charli accused me of, but it wasn’t quite white either. It was a grey lie, with room to move.
“But I need her.” Bridget pouted. “Call her, Daddy.”
“She’s busy, Bridge,” I soothed her. “Maybe later.”
Her little mind wasn’t entirely one-track. I diverted her attention with chocolate milk and coaxed her into her bed with the promise of an early morning trip to the park. It was lazy parenting at its best, but I was tired and drained and unhappy.
I hadn’t spent a night alone in my bed since Charli went home when Jack was born. I didn’t enjoy it then, and tonight was even worse. When Bridget appeared in the doorway, I didn’t even try sending her back to bed. Neither of us coped well when her mama wasn’t there. I threw back the covers on Charli’s side.
The running jump from the doorway was a skill she’d mastered perfectly. Her little head thumped on the pillow beside me. “I really love this bed.”
I turned off the lamp. “That’s good, but you really need to go to sleep.”
She was quiet, but not for long. “Are you awake, Dad?”
I didn’t answer in time. She poked a finger into my eye to check.
“No, Bridge,” I grumbled, rubbing my eye. “I’m sleeping.”
“Good.” She snuggled further under the covers. “It’s very late.”
33. STREET URCHIN
Charli
Staying out all night to punish Adam wasn’t my style, and I’d made a promise a long time ago that if I ever felt the need to run away again, I’d take him with me.
I crept into our apartment at a little after one. All the lights were off, which led me to think he thought I wasn’t coming home. Another hint was the little girl on my side of the bed.
I would’ve let Adam sleep, but I needed help. I trailed my fingers down his bare arm and whispered his name. His eyes fluttered open, and he reached out to me.
“I’m glad you’re home.” He kissed my hand. “Come to bed.”
“I can’t.”
He let out a disapproving low groan. “I’m sorry, Charli. Truly,” he said. “If I could go back and handle things differently, I would. I don’t –”
I put my hand over his mouth to stop him talking. “I can’t because Bridget’s there,” I whispered. “Also, I need help getting my dress off.”
Adam pulled my hand away and got up. “I’ll move the baby,” he offered. “And then I’ll gladly help you get naked.”
***
We hadn’t made it through the night unscathed. Something between us had shifted, and it didn’t feel good. But I wasn’t an idiot. Adam and I were ninety-nine per cent perfect. Because of that, we were more than capable of dealing with the one per cent that wasn’t.
The introduction of my mother into my life hadn’t brought me thoughts of joyous, happy endings. I was scared and apprehensive, and possibly even miffed at the disruption.
Once I left the hotel and really thought things through, I conceded it was probable that Adam felt the same way. He was fiercely protective of Bridget and I. He was the part of our souls that would never let anything bad happen to us. Looking back on the evening from hell, I realised I’d momentarily forgotten that.
***
My dress had no pockets. I reached into the tight space between corset and boobs and pulled out the locket I’d stashed earlier. I hid it in my underwear drawer, unsure if I’d ever look at it again.
By the time Adam returned to the bedroom, the only things I’d managed to take off were my shoes. I was hugely relieved when he turned me around and unzipped my dress. What felt like a hundred metres of brocade pooled at my feet, and then Adam made a start on the corset laces.
I used the time to try and set things right between us. “I know you’d never intentionally hurt me,” I said quietly. “Tonight was awful.”
I felt a tug at my back as he pulled at the laces. “What’s going to happen now, Charli?” I could hear the apprehension in his voice.
“I’m probably going to meet her,” I replied. “I think I owe it to myself to try and get to know her better.” In a moment of pure bliss, the corset hit the floor.
“I hope you get to know her well,” he replied, planting a kiss on my back. “I hope you figure out exactly what kind of person she is.” He turned me around, pressing his next kiss against my collarbone. “Then you’ll be able to decide whether you want her in your life or not.”
“Do you really think it’s that simple?”
His smile was tiny. “No, but it won’t matter. I’m here.”
***
I called Olivia the next morning, after a restless night and very little sleep. After telling me how thrilled she was to hear from me, she suggested we get together as soon as possible. “You could come to the studio,” she said. “I’m here all day. Bring Bridget if you like. I’d love to see her too.”
I agreed to meet her later that morning, but Bridget was off-limits. The last thing I wanted was Olivia confusing her with claims of being her grandmother.
I was nervous. Things might’ve been different if I’d spent my life pining for the mother I’d never known, but I hadn’t. Alex had never been forthcoming about her, and I hadn’t been curious enough to push the issue. I hardly knew anything about her except for the most important detail: Alex had once loved her with all his heart.
Time bends all ideas. Alex no longer loved Olivia. His heart now belonged to Gabrielle, and I had no intention of disturbing the happy life he was building with her and Jack. The news that Olivia was on the scene was not something he needed to deal with. At that point, she felt like a powder keg that we should all be steering clear of.
***
The Minuet Dance Studio was locked when I got there, so after alternating between checking the address and knocking on the door, I called Olivia.
“I’ll be out in a just a minute,” she said, and hung up.
It was a long minute – closer to ten by my reckoning. It wasn’t a shining start to our relationship and I wouldn’t usually have tolerated such jerk-like behaviour, but when she finally opened the door, I bit my tongue and plastered a smile on my face.
“Come in, come in,” she beamed.
She looked different without her French Revolution garb. She was super slim and tiny but quite tall. Alex was tall too. It made me wonder how I’d ended up a disappointing five-four. She hooked her arm through mine and we walked down a short corridor into her office. She sat at her desk and gestured to the chair opposite.
It was weird. Impersonal, awkward and weird.
“It’s private in here,” she explained. “We can spend some time getting to know each other.”
From what I’d seen, we needed
no privacy. It was eleven o’clock on a Sunday morning and I hadn’t seen another soul since I arrived.
I sat on the white suede chair and nervously smoothed down my dress with both hands. “Do you work every day?” I asked. I didn’t really care one way or the other. I was one sentence in and already grasping for conversation.
“Ballet is my life,” she said strongly. “It’s a craft of total dedication.”
My eyes followed her hand as she pointed to a collection of photos along the far wall – no less than twenty pictures depicting a ballerina in various poses. A closer look revealed that Olivia was the ballerina in every single shot. At best it was conceited. At worst, it was creepy.
“Are you married, Olivia?” I asked curiously. “Do you have a family?”
Her eyes drifted to mine. “I was married for ten years, but I’m divorced now.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Her soft laugh had a hard edge to it. “I’m not,” she replied. “He was a fool.” She stood up, wandered over to her picture wall and studied her photos as if looking at them for the first time. “As for a family, I was advised against having more children after you.” She turned back, looking positively wounded. “There were complications. It’s never easy having a child so young, as I’m sure you understand.” She sat back at her desk. “You were merely a child when Bridget was born, too.”
“No,” I corrected. “I was twenty.”
Olivia shook her head, tutting like she felt sorry for me. “Far too young.”
I was so far out of my depth that breathing took effort. I would’ve preferred sparring with a hundred Décaries to having one conversation with this lady.
“I’m very happy with the path I’ve chosen. You needn’t worry.”
Olivia leaned across the desk, reaching for my hand. For some reason, I obliged. “I’m not worried, darling,” she said gently. “You’ve landed on your feet. The Upper East Side is a world away from Tasmania – married to a Décarie, no less.”
Her smile was absolutely genuine, which was troubling. “Tell me about Alex,” she urged. “I often think about him.”
The conversation felt uncomfortable, but answering questions about Alex was the ultimate no-go zone. I deflected the best way I knew how – I told a bold-faced lie. “I don’t have a lot of contact with Alex,” I admitted, feigning regret. “We’re very distant these days.”
Her blue eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled. “Understandable,” she said gently. “He could never have given you this life.”
I wondered what sort of life she thought I’d led pre-Décarie. The pity in her tone suggested something underprivileged and lacking. I wanted to scream at her. I wanted to defend the man who loved me and raised me after she chose to walk away.
But I didn’t. I stood up and made a quiet excuse to leave.
Olivia didn’t see me to the door. She remained seated, calling out to me at the last moment. “You look like him,” she said. “You have his eyes.”
I nodded. “I know.”
It was more obvious to me then than ever before, and I’d never been more proud to be my father’s daughter than at that moment. I’d found nothing of Olivia in myself – no spark of kinship or shared physical trait. She wasn’t even particularly likeable.
The meeting left a hole in my heart that hadn’t been there the day before. It was unfair and undeserved; and worst of all, I had no idea how to fix it.
***
Despite the fact that the whole of New York was at our doorstep, we were creatures of habit. Any spare time was spent in the park. We’d made a loose arrangement to meet before I left home that morning, and Bridget and Adam were already there when I arrived.
My kid was atop a climbing frame that looked much too high, and from a distance, it looked like her dad was trying to coax her down. I sat on a bench and watched the battle of wills play out. The stand Bridget was making only lasted until she spotted me, and then she let Adam help her down.
As she ran toward me I studied her every move. Adam often likened Bridget to a street urchin. On days when we didn’t fight to get a brush through her hair or demand that her clothes matched, she was free-range, just as I had been. Her personality was wild regardless of her presentation, but she had balance. Smoothing her rough and flighty edges were patience and wisdom that belied her years. These qualities came courtesy of her dad, meaning she was just the right combination of the two of us.
“Mum!” she yelled from fifty metres away. “Did you see me fly?”
I smiled, arms outstretched preparing for the inevitable crash. “I must’ve just missed it,” I told her. “I only just got here.”
After a quick hug, Bridget turned on her heels and took off back to the playground. “Watch this time, please,” she ordered. “I might do it again.”
Adam scored a high-five as she passed. Bridget scored a half-dimpled smile that matched her own and a warning to be careful.
I shuffled along the bench to make room for him. He draped an arm around my shoulder, and for the first time all day I felt comfortable and relaxed.
“How did it go?”
“It was hard,” I admitted, keeping my focus on Bridget. “We don’t have much in common except DNA.”
He rubbed the back of my neck. “Are you going to see her again?”
His casual question was deceptively loaded. Adam had made no secret of his dislike for Olivia. He had no reason to persevere in the hope she’d turn things around and change his opinion, but I did. She was my mother. That alone meant I’d go back for more, and he knew it.
“Probably,” I muttered. “You think I’m foolish, don’t you?”
“No. I think you’re looking for the good. I just hope it’s there.”
“I’m not sure it is,” I admitted. “I have a sinking feeling that she’s shady.”
My focus never left our daughter, who was hanging upside down on the climbing frame with her belly on show. Adam’s gaze was solely on me, and I could feel him silently demanding an explanation.
“She mentioned that I’d grown up in Tasmania,” I explained. “I was born in Sydney. That means she knew where I was all along and never did anything about it.” I turned to look at him. “I don’t know why she suddenly wants to be in my life. I don’t trust it.”
Feeling cynical was unpleasant but I couldn’t shake it. Olivia didn’t act like she was thrilled by the idea of finding me, at least not in public. As I left the studio, she’d asked me to keep the news of our reunion a secret. “Just until we get to know each other better,” she suggested.
My feelings weren’t hurt by the request. I wasn’t exactly shouting it from the rooftops either. From what I’d seen that day, long lost daughter wasn’t a title I was in any hurry to claim.
34. SLOW POISON
Adam
I promised Charli I wouldn’t interfere – that I’d leave it to her to decide how much of a part her mother played in our lives.
Olivia administered her poison in slow, controlled doses over the next couple of weeks. Charlotte probably would’ve taken a step back and let her slip out of her life but Olivia was relentless.
Her angle was simple. Olivia gave Charli something Alex never had – information. I didn’t buy her idealistic tale of star-crossed lovers who met too soon, but Charli seemed to accept every word without question.
There’s nothing remotely romantic about two seventeen-year-old kids having a baby. Olivia recalled that time with fondness and nothing but love for her baby daughter. Just hearing Charli retell the tale made me feel queasy. As her mother’s stranglehold began to tighten, Charli seemed to forget that Alex was the hero of the story.
It was becoming impossible to keep quiet and let it play out, especially when Charli announced that Bridget was back on Olivia’s list of dance pupils.
“No, Charli,” I protested. “There are a hundred dance schools in this city. Find another one.”
“Bridget is looking forward to it.” For once, her ploy of
cosying up to me on the couch wasn’t working. She could’ve done it buck-naked and I still would’ve been immune.
“You knew I’d say no,” I accused. “But you went ahead and told Bridget anyway. Not cool, Charlotte.”
I’d been railroaded before, but never by my wife. I was furious. Promising not to interfere only applied to Charli. Sooner or later the whole debacle was going to end in tears, but they weren’t going to be Bridget’s.
Charli straightened up. “Are you really that upset?”
I bit the inside of my cheek, unwilling to let words escape.
“Say something, please.”
“Olivia is in your head, Charli,” I said gravely. “A week ago you’d never have agreed to this.” I stood, then turned back to her. “And a week before that, you would never have gone behind my back.”
***
Dishonesty was creeping in from all sides. It wasn’t a new concept in my marriage; it was an old one that we hadn’t visited in a long time.
Charli’s decision to get Bridget ramped up about dance classes was purely tactical. I wasn’t in the habit of breaking my daughter’s heart, which is exactly what would happen if I overruled her mother.
Sneakiness tends to beget sneakiness. After two weeks of holding my tongue and trying to be supportive, it was time to put an end to it. Snooping was part of my job, only it wasn’t called snooping. Reputable lawyers call it researching. Doing a background check on Olivia wasn’t something I wanted to undertake myself. Perhaps a little fearful of what I’d discover, I delegated the task to Grayson.
Nothing about the request troubled him, even after hearing the details. I thumped Olivia’s prospectus on his desk, signalling the end of my rather rambling speech. As plans went it was average at best, but it was all I had.
He rested his hands behind his head. “So let me break it down,” he said. “You want me to snoop around and see what I can find out about her?”
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