by Jodi Perry
‘Oh Braxton,’ you said, sliding your arms underneath mine. You held me tight as you rested the side of your face against my chest. ‘You don’t ever have to say those words to me if it makes you feel uncomfortable. As long as I know you love me, that’s all that matters.’
I placed a soft kiss on your hair. ‘Just know that I do, Jem … I always have … and I always will.’
What we had is far too beautiful to be forgotten.
Yours always,
Braxton
TWENTY-NINE
Jemma
‘The taxi should be here in about fifteen minutes, Mum,’ I say, popping my head into the bathroom as she puts the finishing touches to her make-up.
‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ She places the top back on her lipstick before turning to face me. ‘Does this look okay?’
‘You look beautiful.’
‘It’s been so long since I’ve been anywhere nice, or had someone else cook for me.’ I smile at her comment, but inside my stomach knots. I feel awful for deceiving her, but it was my only option. ‘We’re going to have such fun. I might even let my hair down and have a glass of wine.’
Half an hour later, my leg bounces and my hands twist together nervously in my lap on the drive to the restaurant. ‘Are you okay?’ Christine asks, reaching for my hand.
‘I’m fine, Mum,’ I lie, forcing out a smile. This seemed like such a good idea at the time, but now I’m rethinking my devious plan.
Christine reaches into the front seat, passing the driver a twenty-dollar note. ‘Keep the change,’ she says.
There’s a huge smile on her face and her arm slips through mine as we walk down the concrete path.
‘Good evening,’ the maître d’ says, when we enter the restaurant.
‘We have a reservation under Robinson,’ I reply.
‘Yes, here we go,’ he says as his finger runs down the list in front of him. ‘Party of three. Your other guest is waiting.’
‘Other guest?’ Christine asks quizzically as I reach for her hand, following the maître d’ towards our table.
The moment she stops walking, grinding us both to a halt, I know she has seen him.
‘What’s he doing here?’ she snaps. The look she gives me is equal parts hurt and anger.
‘I’m sorry, Mum.’
‘Why would you do this to me?’ she says as tears rise to her eyes.
She spins around and starts to walk towards the exit.
‘Please,’ I say and reach for her elbow. ‘I just wanted to have dinner with my parents together. I want to hear stories about my life when I was a child, when we were a family.’ She stops walking, but doesn’t turn around. ‘Please, Mum, it would mean so much to me.’ I feel horrible and completely selfish for pulling that card on her, but there’s some truth to my plea.
She finally turns to face me. ‘Fine, but don’t expect me to converse with that man. As soon as we’ve eaten I want to leave.’
‘Okay.’ I reach for her, wrapping her in my arms. ‘Thank you.’
We continue towards the table, and Stephen stands. His confused gaze moves between me and my mother. Technically I didn’t lie to him, I just asked him to have dinner with me and left out the part about her coming.
‘Pumpkin,’ he says, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on my cheek.
‘Hi, Dad.’ His attention then moves to my mother. ‘Christine, you look lovely.’
‘Huh,’ she huffs, grabbing hold of the back of a chair.
‘Let me,’ my father says.
‘I can seat myself, thank you very much.’
I cringe when she flicks his hand away. I lock eyes with him. Seeing his pained look makes me realise I was stupid to think this would work. I haven’t even eaten yet and I’m already suffering from indigestion.
When the waiter approaches the table, he directs his attention to Stephen. ‘Would you like to start off with some drinks, sir?’
‘That would be great.’ He looks to Christine, but she dips her face down and stares into her lap. ‘Do you still love sav blanc?’
‘Possibly,’ she says, without making eye contact.
‘What about you, pumpkin?’
‘I’ll have a vodka, lemon, lime and bitters, please … Actually, make it a double.’ I need it. The waiter nods before jotting my order down on his notepad.
‘And a bottle of your best sauvignon blanc,’ Stephen says, eyeing the waiter. ‘And two glasses, please.’
Hooray, they both like the same wine. That’s a start, I guess.
The three of us sit in silence until the alcohol arrives. I proceed to down my drink like a parched man in the desert; anything to take the edge off. I hope my parents will do the same, but the waiter pours just a small amount of wine into their glasses. I raise my own glass, signalling for another vodka. I’ll be finished this by the time the next one arrives.
Stephen takes a small sip compared to Christine’s gulp.
‘So,’ I say, trying to get this show on the road. ‘I brought you both here tonight because you’re my parents—obviously—and we were a family once.’ My gaze moves down to the crisp white tablecloth, suddenly realising I should have planned this better. When I raise my eyes again, I see I have their complete attention. ‘As you both know, Braxton has been writing me letters about my past, things we both experienced growing up. What I was hoping to get out of tonight was some insight on my life before we moved here.’
If this doesn’t work, I’m not sure where to go next.
A genuine smile forms on Stephen’s face before he speaks. ‘You were such a happy baby … Wasn’t she, Chris?’
My mum glares at him, before looking at me. ‘You were,’ she says as her scowl turns into a smile. ‘You were a good sleeper, and eater. You never gave us any trouble.’
‘You loved your dummy when you were little.’
‘Didn’t she ever,’ Christine chimes in.
‘Remember those little noises she used to make when she’d suck on it?’ Stephen says as his eyes move back to her. I’m waiting for her scowl again, but instead I see a smile tug at her lips.
‘I do. It was so cute.’
‘Your mother and I would stand there for hours just watching you sleep.’
‘We did,’ she agrees. ‘We ended up taking it away from you just before your second birthday because it was starting to make your front teeth protrude.’
‘God, she cried, didn’t she, Chris?’
‘For three long, agonising days,’ she says, looking at him.
‘My heart broke for both my girls. You couldn’t bear to see her so upset. By day three you were begging me to buy a replacement dummy on my way home from work.’
‘I remember,’ she says, with a small laugh. ‘Instead you brought her home a baby doll and told her since she was a big girl now she could take care of her own baby.’
A huge smile breaks out onto my face as I watch them.
‘She loved that baby doll,’ Stephen says.
‘She did. She took it everywhere.’
‘What was her name again?’
‘Annabelle,’ Christine says, nodding at the memory. ‘She named the doll Annabelle.’
The conversation is completely between these two now, it’s like I’m not even sitting at the table, and my heart is smiling as I watch on.
‘That’s right, Annabelle. Remember when the doll got lost?’
‘How could I forget? She cried herself to sleep that night, sobbed in my arms.’
‘I felt so bad for her,’ Stephen replies.
The conversation then moves onto a funny story about when I was being toilet trained. They’re both laughing. They look so happy, and it’s just like the way Braxton described my parents in the letters, not how I’ve seen them recently.
They’re so engrossed in their conversation, I take the chance to slip away from the table. ‘I’m just going to use the ladies,’ I say.
‘Okay, pumpkin.’
Instead of heading to the bathroom, I walk towards the
exit and out into the crisp evening air. My plan has worked out even better than I could have hoped.
It’s completely dark outside now, and chilly. I rub my hands down my arms because I left my jacket hanging over the back of my chair in the restaurant—but I’m not going back inside to get it.
I’m not even sure where the bus stop is from here, so I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.
‘Jemma,’ Braxton says as soon as he answers. ‘Is everything okay?’ Just hearing his voice has me smiling.
‘Everything’s fine. I was just wondering if you were busy.’
‘I was just about to order a pizza for dinner.’
‘Oh. Never mind then, I can catch a bus home. There has to be a stop around here somewhere.’
‘Where are you?’
‘In town.’
‘I’ll come get you. I don’t want you catching a bus on your own at this time of night.’
Ten minutes later, I spot his car coming towards me. I step out to the kerb, waving my hand above my head so he can see me.
‘Hey,’ he says, when I climb into the passenger seat.
‘Hi.’
‘You look nice.’
‘Thanks, so do you.’ He’s still in his work suit; he looks so handsome in a suit.
‘Can I ask why you’re in town alone, at night?’ His eyes meet mine momentarily as he pulls away from the kerb.
‘Actually, I wasn’t alone.’
‘Oh.’ I can hear shock in his tone.
‘I was dining with my parents.’
‘Christine and Stephen … together?’ His gaze leaves the road briefly, darting in my direction.
‘I tricked them both into coming. Neither of them knew the other was going to be there.’
‘Ouch,’ he says, scrunching up his face. ‘I bet that didn’t go down well.’
‘Surprisingly, when I left the restaurant to call you, they were both talking and laughing.’
‘No way.’
‘Yes way.’
‘Did you spike their drinks or something? Your mum can’t even stand being in the same room as him.’
‘I know. She was pretty pissed with me when we first got there, but then they started reminiscing about stories from my childhood.’
‘Well, I hope for your sake that this devious plan of yours works.’
‘Me too,’ I say as I text Stephen. Hi Dad, it’s Jemma. I’m not in the bathroom, I snuck out. You two seemed to be getting on okay, so I wanted you to have some time alone, to hopefully sort things out. Mum would never admit it, but I know she still loves you. Don’t worry about me, I’m in the car with Braxton, he’s driving me home. I’m sorry for deceiving you both, and I hope you’re not angry with me. Can you please make sure Mum gets home safely?
A few minutes later I get a reply. Your mother has just gone to look for you. And I’m not angry. I’m grateful, extremely grateful. You’ve pulled off the impossible tonight, kiddo. I can’t thank you enough. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but this is the first time your mother has spoken to me in years. Thank you, pumpkin. I’ll make sure she gets home okay. Love Dad.
‘What did he say?’ Braxton asks.
‘Things are going well.’
I see him smile as he watches the road. ‘I’m proud of you for doing this.’ He reaches across the centre console and grabs my hand. Butterflies flutter in my stomach when he laces his fingers through mine.
‘So, I snuck out before we even ordered … Can I share that pizza with you? I’m starved.’
‘Absolutely,’ he says, his face lighting up. ‘Do you want to come to the beach house, or would you prefer to go to Christine’s?’
I find myself beaming. I’d like nothing more than to spend the remainder of my evening with him. ‘The beach house is fine.’
It’s close to midnight when Braxton pulls into Christine’s driveway. The house is bathed in darkness, so she’s either still out with my father, or in bed. I’m fine with either one—I don’t want to face her tonight, just in case she’s angry with me.
At the beach house I finally got to see the back deck lit up by the lanterns and fairy lights. It was just as beautiful as I imagined it would be.
We ordered a pizza and ate outside by candlelight. We stayed out there until the wind whipped up, and Braxton suggested we move inside. We ended up watching a movie together on the sofa. It was nice—there was no kissing or making out, but I was okay with that. I was acutely aware of his leg touching mine the whole time, though.
‘Thanks for coming to rescue me tonight, and for the pizza and the movie,’ I say, when we reach the front door.
‘It was my pleasure. Thank you for the company.’
Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss on my cheek. It’s sweet, but I really wouldn’t have minded if he kissed my lips instead. ‘Sweet dreams, Jem.’
‘Goodnight.’
‘Sweetheart,’ Christine says, stroking my long brown hair as I sob into my pillow. ‘We’ll find Annabelle, she’s probably packed inside one of the boxes.’
‘Daddy said he looked inside the boxes and Annabelle wasn’t there.’
‘She’ll turn up.’
‘She won’t … she’s gone forever. Who am I going to play with now?’
‘What about Bradley next door, he seemed like a nice boy,’ she says in a soft voice. ‘I bet you two will end up being the best of friends.’
I raise my head from the pillow, turning my face towards her, but my vision is clouded by tears. ‘His name is Braxton,’ I reply. ‘Not Bradley.’
‘Sorry. Braxton.’ Christine wraps my small body in her arms, rocking me gently.
‘Found her!’
I pull back to see a breathless Stephen standing in the doorway of my bedroom. He’s holding Annabelle in the air, with a huge smile on his face. ‘She was lodged under the seat in the car.’
‘Annabelle!’ I cry out joyfully, leaping off the bed.
When I reach the hallway, a smile tugs at my lips as I hear Christine humming in the kitchen. That’s a good sign … I hope.
‘Morning,’ I say, poking my head around the corner.
‘Morning, sweetheart. Come sit, I was just about to make some toast.’
I smile when she pulls out a chair for me. ‘You’re not angry at me?’
‘A little.’ Christine tries to look stern, but it’s not very convincing. ‘I don’t like being misled.’
‘I’m sorry. Dad still loves you, and I know that you’re hurt by what he did, but if you’re honest with yourself you’d have to admit that you still care about him too.’
She sighs as she takes the seat beside me. ‘You’re right, I do. He was the love of my life, and feelings that intense don’t just disappear overnight. But I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get past the betrayal.’
I want to remind her it was just a kiss, but I don’t. I’m pretty sure I’d be pissed off if my husband kissed another woman. Instead, I place my hand on top of hers. ‘I understand why you did the things you did, I do, but you played your part in this too. You neglected him. You shut him out when you needed him most.’
She sighs. ‘I know, but I was in a bad place. I lost both my parents in the space of a week.’
‘I get that, I really do. And I’m sorry you went through that. From what Braxton’s told me you had good reason for being depressed, but Dad loves you; you should have let him help you through that. Shutting him out only made matters worse. Can’t you see that?’
‘I …’
When tears rise to her eyes, I pull her into my arms. ‘It’s okay, Mum. Everything is going to be okay. I just wish you would let go of the anger and hurt. It’s destroying you.’
Within seconds, her tears manifest into racking sobs, but I don’t let her go. I don’t try to stop them either. She needs to get them out, and finally grieve so she can move forward.
A long time passes before they finally stop. ‘I’m sorry for making you cry, but I bet you feel better for it.’ I reach for t
he tissue box that’s sitting in the centre of the table, passing it to her. ‘As much as I’d love to see you two back together, I’d settle for just friends.’
She gives me a hopeful smile. ‘Friends I can do. We actually had a really nice time last night.’
‘I’m happy to hear that.’
When she goes to stand, I stop her. ‘You sit, let me make you breakfast.’
‘Thank you,’ she says tenderly, and I know she’s thanking me for more than breakfast. These people are my family and have done so much for me. I want to give something back. Just because I don’t remember my life with them, doesn’t mean I haven’t developed true feelings for them.
Memories of my dream last night flutter around in my head. Was it just a coincidence? My parents had talked about Annabelle last night at dinner. They never mentioned how she got lost, though.
‘Can I ask you a question?’ I say as I wait for the toast to pop up.
‘Sure.’
‘Did you ever find out what happened to Annabelle?’
‘Your doll?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your father found her in the car, if my memory serves me correctly … I think she’d fallen under the back seat.’
I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my face as I turn my back on her. I don’t want her to see it. I’m not going to get my hopes up, or anyone else’s for that matter. But maybe, just maybe … Could this be the first sign?
THIRTY
Braxton
‘I’m heading home,’ Lucas says, popping his head into my office.
‘I’m not far off leaving as well.’ I look up, meeting his gaze. ‘I just want to finish this letter to Jemma.’
He gives me a thoughtful smile. ‘How are you two going?’
‘We’re going okay.’ I feel myself grinning just thinking about her.
‘I’m glad.’ He pushes off the doorframe. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Night, buddy.’
I pull up the calendar for the year 2006 on my laptop, so I can find the exact dates I’ll need for this letter.
LETTER THIRTEEN …
Dearest Jemma,
The first of December 2006. We’d managed to keep our relationship a secret for a week, but we were making out every chance we got. It was only a matter of time before we got caught. Looking back on that day now, I’m thankful it was your mum who caught us, and not your dad.