by Kylie Kaden
Will shrugged. ‘So be it. It’s all out in the open, Abs. It has to be. I can’t live like this. I’ve seen what secrets can do to families – rot them from the inside out.’
She went to kiss him.
He lifted his chin out of reach, retreated. Will never pulled away. He just spoke. He just did. ‘You haven’t asked about Hannah. About the lake.’
She inhaled sharply. ‘I didn’t think I had to. I just figured she went looking for you, trying to dispel this idea that she dated a …’ She couldn’t say it.
‘That’s how it started.’ He swallowed, shuffled his shoes on the sand and adjusted his weight on the rock. A one-legged seagull came over as if to listen in. ‘We were drinking. It was dark, she told me some stuff, things got out of hand and … we kissed.’
Abbi felt dizzy. She recoiled a little, unable to look at him.
‘Things turned ugly. I wanted to come straight home but we were both too pissed to hold a steering wheel.’
Things turned ugly? What was that code for? Good old Will and his overrated honesty. ‘Were you … safe?’
‘What?’
She felt sick at the thought. ‘Did you use …’ She looked for Eadie, and saw her safely playing on the rocks ahead.
His eyes narrowed. ‘You don’t get it. It was a drunken fumble in the dark. That’s it. The alcohol kind of let it happen for a sec, but then I stopped.’ He swallowed, hard. ‘Forgive me.’
She pictured them, and her chin quivered. ‘Is that all? I mean, I don’t want to find out in a week that it was a kiss plus a skinny dip or a kiss plus a blow job.’
‘There was none of that, and nothing more.’
Abbi’s eyes closed, relieved. ‘So why tell me? So I can feel hurt, imagine her tongue every time I kiss you?’
‘No, I—’
‘Wanted to be honest, unburden yourself of the guilt?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does it feel better? Because it doesn’t from where I’m sitting.’ She crossed her arms, tears fell.
‘I’m sorry,’ Will said. ‘You felt so distant. I was so drunk—’
‘I don’t want to know, then. Honestly, Will, I don’t care.’ As she said the words, Abbi felt her heart die, just a little. Hannah, of all people. She did care, but she cared about their marriage more. It was a wave in a stormy sea – an insignificant bump on the horizon in the grand scheme of their relationship. ‘The only thing that concerns me is if she’s pissed enough at your rejection to turn us in.’
One cheek pulled up on his round face. ‘You’re saying I should have … obliged her to keep her onside?’
Abbi scowled. A rogue wave washed in, wetting their feet as they bunched together on a flat rock, watching the footprints on the sand dissolve into the wave like a slate wiped clean.
Hannah was glamorous. Prettier. Skinnier. She hadn’t lied to him.
Abbi tucked herself under his arm, felt tears fall down her cheeks, and he curled her body into his. She felt petty, but she had to ask. ‘What was it like?’
She looked up to meet his gaze. His brow crinkled, his eyes soft. He wiped her tears, crestfallen. ‘She wasn’t you.’
Abbi held his face in her hands, gazed into his kind eyes, and her mouth met his. The love of her life. The only man that she’d wanted since the day she met him. The man she’d faced a disaster zone to be with. The man who saved her.
‘I’m sorry for what I said to you, about taking the moral high ground, that you were the k—’ Even now, the word made her eyes close in shame. ‘I was angry that you couldn’t see that I did it for you. I never blamed you. You acted on your feelings for once. You fought for your daughter. For what’s right. I’m proud of you.’
‘Proud? I’m as bad as him – lashing out, not keeping my feelings in check. If nothing else, I’ve always been in control of my life, my emotions.’
‘You’re honest about your feelings, you confront me about mine, sure, but you never express your own. Meanwhile I’m in the corner going crazy, screaming, crying, flapping about.’
Will sighed. ‘Exactly. We can’t both do crazy at the same time.’
‘Maybe I wouldn’t do crazy at all if you did it a little more.’
‘You want crazy? I can do crazy.’ His eyes narrowed.
Abbi took his hand, their fingers threading together.
He raised it to his lips and kissed it. ‘I wish you’d just told me. Dealt with it honestly. We’re partners.’
Abbi thought about that. ‘I’m not sure I’ve been an equal partner. Since Eadie came along, you’ve been the one doing the hard yards, making her clean her teeth and eat her greens. You’ve always looked after both of us.’ Her throat swelled, but she wanted to get it all out, explain what this nightmare had changed in her.
‘What made you so sure Mr Good Cop would play your game?’ Will asked.
‘He’d do anything for me.’ The concept filled her with shame now.
‘So would I.’ He pressed his shoulder into her.
Abbi wasn’t used to Will charming her. ‘Is that what you call crazy?’
Will smiled. ‘I’m warming up.’
A whirlwind of sandy pink tulle and bare limbs invaded their space.
Will frowned at Abbi. ‘I’m gone a few days and she’s wearing a tutu to the beach?’
‘Told you. Crazy.’
Eadie tugged at Will’s shorts. ‘Daddy! I made a baby turtle! Look!’ Her daughter towed her father to her sand creation, and he looked back at Abbi with a half-smile, and she wiped a tear from her cheek.
It always seemed cruel – the hundreds of baby turtles running the gauntlet from their sand nests down this beach, escaping dozens of silver gulls patrolling the sky with dinner on their minds, only to reach an ocean full of different predators. Abbi thought of the statistics the rangers spouted to the tourists – only one in a thousand hatchlings that emerged from the nest survived. The odds weren’t much better for human relationships. Some adapted, while most fell victim to everyday hazards. Abbi too, had come out of her own lost years, and matured. She and Will had faced hazards, but were still standing, ducking and diving the waves, together.
* * *
The next morning, despite looking over her shoulder, waiting, wondering what Hannah and Blake would do with the admissions of the day before, an ease returned to her routine. Will was now synchronised with her. Living a life of duplicity had ended, and it felt good.
As soon as Abbi got home from dropping Eadie at school, Blake exploded onto her front doorstep, a half-spent cigarette lit between his fingers. Abbi braced herself.
Blake’s nostrils flared, he took one last drag of his cigarette before snuffing it out on the railing. ‘How could you lie to me for so long? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth?’
The fucking truth thing again. Abbi exhaled. ‘I knew you’d help if it was me who did it. And you did.’
‘Like the sucker that I am.’ His anger was raw and mingled with something she hadn’t seen in him before; disgust. Even standing over a corpse had not elicited such a look.
‘You think you own me. You always have. Forever fucking batting your eyelids, expecting me to come running. Now I find out you told Hannah … what we were.’ Blake’s eyes fell closed.
A fist formed inside her. ‘What? Is that what you’re angry about?’
‘Remember our agreement? Never to talk about what we used to do.’ He inhaled, like the words had stolen the air from his lungs. ‘But you keep testing me. Have for years. Over and over. You know how hard it was to hear you with those loser guys, growing up? It was like you were parading them in front of me on purpose. It was so fucking cruel, and even now …’ He shook his head. Even the new, brave edition of Blake Newell who expressed his feelings couldn’t go there. Couldn’t articulate exactly how much she meant to him.
‘Blake?’
‘You’ve been telling me for years how Hannah had me by the balls, when it’s been you. I did everything you asked. Stayed in town – “I nee
d you here, Blake. Hide a body with me, Blake.” Well, I’m done, Abs. I quit.’
She knew it was true. All of it. She’d controlled him for her own benefit – the fact that he didn’t seem to mind was beside the point. It hit her hard. But part of her was proud of him for calling her on it. A wise man had once told her, ‘People get treated the way they allow themselves to be treated. Don’t accept disrespect.’ She thought back to that afternoon in Haiti, standing in the rain, pulling Will up on his rudeness towards her the day she’d arrived, how he’d smiled at her assertiveness, satisfied she’d listened. She felt the same satisfaction for Blake now, challenging her for her own failings. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ve been a manipulative bitch, and I’m going to stop now.’
‘It was just a game to you, all these years. You knew how I felt. That … I loved you. You kept playing with me like a cat with a mouse, knowing I couldn’t say no. That’s not love, Abbi, that’s sick!’
‘Blake, I do love you. You know that. You always said Hannah was my best friend, but it was you. It was always you. The fact you were a bloke just made it a little tricky.’
He squared his jaw. ‘Was it just attention? To rebel? I mean, did you ever even see me that way?’
‘Yes. Before. When you first came to live with us.’ But I was just a girl. You were just a boy.
His jaw shuddered a little, like it did when he was a sulky teen. ‘And now?’
Her eyes glazed over. ‘Now you’re my best friend.’ You’re still a boy, and I need a man.
Abbi was unsure if it was disappointment or loathing playing on his face as he turned and left, and panic bubbled. ‘Blake?’ She paced after him, grabbed his arm. ‘I know you’re mad, but …’
He forced a smile, but it had no warmth. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll still cover your arse, if that’s what you’re worried about, but only because you’d take me down with you.’
She was in the wrong, and she had to make it right. ‘You know I’ve always got your back. No matter what. You and me against the world, remember?’
‘Bullshit. I never would have sucked you into my mess like you have.’
‘Because you don’t make any,’ Abbi said. ‘You never take enough risk to get dirty, but you know what? I wouldn’t care if you did. I’d be there for you. I’d eat dirt with you if you needed me to, so don’t blame me because you never asked.’
They stood still, gaping at each other like kids in a staring comp, until he looked away. ‘You – eat dirt?’ Blake asked. ‘You won’t even drink instant coffee.’
She saw a hint of a smirk simmering on his lips, just a hint but it was enough to give her hope. They’d fought before. They would again. She risked a smile, knowing it could go either way. ‘I’ll prove it if you like.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll reserve the right.’
Abbi crossed her arms and scuffed her foot on her bamboo floors. ‘So, you and Hannah. Is it too broken to fix?’
He shrugged, and a quiet came over him. ‘She told me about Molly.’ His lip trembled. ‘About everything she hid from me, everything she didn’t trust me enough to know. That’s the bit that really hurt. But part of me wasn’t surprised – the likeness between them, asking me to be there for Molly when she was in the States, her constant questions about how she was. It all makes sense now. But hiding something like that, it makes a mockery of everything we had, and the pathetic part is, I wouldn’t have thought any less of her if I’d known.’
Abbi couldn’t hide her sympathy for what Hannah went through back then. ‘It’s a shit thing to have to go through alone.’
Blake nodded. ‘I can forgive her that part. But it sounds like she really loved the father. I’ll never be her first choice. Shit, after putting the word on Will the other night, I’m not even sure I’m her second. Not sure we can come back from that. Who knows? It’d be nice for somebody to have my back.’ He looked up, eyes locked on hers. ‘My last person fucked it up.’
Abbi’s guilt came to the forefront again. ‘I never meant to hurt you. You were so troubled back then. So lost for someone so good. It wasn’t fair. I wanted you to see how connected I felt to you, how you deserved to be happy. Is that so wrong?’ She reached out to him, made a fist around his hand and gazed up at him adoringly.
‘You see?’ A sadness flooded his eyes before he looked away. ‘That’s not how sisters act.’
Blake walked away, without a backward glance.
Chapter 33
42 DAYS AFTER THE MOON FESTIVAL
Molly was unaware she was soon to have the final moment of life as she knew it.
Indeed, if she’d been given the chance to reflect on the story of her life thus far, she’d have evaluated it as a rather mixed bag. A childhood marred by loneliness, financial strain, the loss of a parent and other struggles that thrust her into an adult world prematurely. But it had also been a life of stability, grounded by the unwavering love of a damaged man who’d turned up and did his best every day of her seventeen years.
As she approached the paint-flaking cottage, kicking a can along the gutter out of sheer boredom, Molly heard Hannah’s whiny voice shouting through its walls. It was rare; it was usually so repressed, so positively sedate. Since her sister’s return, the usual routines had been set aside, and during the odd stir-fry or pasta-bake for three, things had been said. Feelings had been shared. Her dad took more notice. He had opinions, and right now he was giving them. It had to be another good sign.
She went inside and the bellows grew louder. She wasn’t sure what her dad’s problem was now, because he’d got his way with one thing – Hannah had turned up last night with her suitcase, all cagey, telling them it was over with Blake, so Molly had thought he’d be pleased that his daughter was no longer ‘living in sin’.
Molly was sure about one thing: Hannah was getting a grilling. She could hear the anger in her dad’s voice. She dumped her bag on the floor, and opened the fridge. Their voices carried up the hall. ‘I’m sick of feeling like nothing but your disappointment,’ Hannah yelled, and Molly was relieved that it wasn’t about her, that Hannah hadn’t spilled her guts about her community service hours. Molly grabbed an Up and Go, gave it a shake and wondered if she should take off, leave them to it, or stick around and see what the fuss was about.
She considered visiting Gwen’s place. She wished things hadn’t got so heated last week.
‘Honey!’ Her dad’s gravelly voice. ‘You brought us the best gift a daughter could. I love you both!’
Molly could hear the seriousness in her sister’s voice as she replied, despite it being muffled through the walls, but the words made no sense. Was Hannah back in community theatre? Were they reciting lines?
‘All the reasons we hid it from her no longer exist,’ Hannah said.
‘What about your mother’s wishes? Do they no longer exist?’ Her dad’s voice again.
‘It was my body! You had no right!’
Molly left her drink on the counter, crept down the hall, curiosity drawing her closer. Her dad’s bedroom door was half closed, and the afternoon sun filtered through the lace curtains and danced on the carpet. He was seated on the edge of his bed, legs wide set, bald head in hands. Hannah was leering over him, arms folded, toe pointing in a stance Molly imagined she goaded students with. ‘She’s old enough to know the truth. I’m old enough to take responsibility for my actions – the way you should have let me all along.’
Molly frowned. Take responsibility? What mess was Hannah in now?
Hannah moved, nudging out of Molly’s view from the hall. ‘I’ve always suspected Grannypower knew something – she probably opened the adoption forms. Took a copy.’
Adoption? This was getting weirder.
Her dad’s head shook. ‘She would have blackmailed us all by now.’
Blackmail?
‘Don’t you want to stop living a lie? Wouldn’t you rather control when it comes out? Let her hear it from us?’
Molly couldn’t stand it another secon
d and pushed the door open. ‘Let who hear what?’
* * *
How does one respond when they’re told their whole life has been one big fat stinking lie? That a father is actually a grandfather, a sister, actually a mother. How does one respond when they realise they’ve mourned the death of a mum who never really was? That one was the blunder in their family’s lifelong game of pretend, the epicentre of the cover-up, the reason for their closeted shame.
Molly sat, stony-faced, shocked into silence for what seemed like days as the two bobbing heads explained, reassured, rubbed her shoulder and added antidotes aimed to lessen the blow. As their miserable voices echoed around her, justifying their lies, Molly began the laborious task of revisiting a thousand memories, rewriting a thousand scenes, recasting the impersonators and slotting in the truth.
Worse still, while trying to make sense of the bombshell, she had to cope with their pain – her father’s utter devastation that the truth was out, Hannah’s agony over not telling her earlier.
Then there were the details; Hannah had shared with her how, after giving birth, just watching a baby on a video in class triggered breastmilk to leak through her bra. She’d told her it felt like punishment, as if the shame of their secret was seeping out for all to see. She’d covered it up by spilling her water bottle all down her uniform, and no one was the wiser. But she never forgot the shame.
Molly listened to their pain, and it seemed the overarching message of each story they shared was that raising her as Hannah’s sister was the best solution to their little problem.
But all Molly heard was she had caused this. She was the shame. She was the problem they needed to solve.
She tried to understand it from their perspectives, but she needed to consider her own feelings. ‘Stop!’ Molly yelled. ‘This is not about you!’
Dan gasped. Hannah froze. They both sat silently, in disgrace. It hit her. In their ramblings, no one had mentioned who her real father was. Molly’s hand reached to cover her moth. She couldn’t breathe. ‘OMG. Is Blake my dad?’