‘Wedding talk?’ asked Lisette with a wide grin.
‘Not yet. We saved that for you,’ Sol said. ‘Rebecca has just accepted my offer to be her kidney donor.’
‘Oh, wow.’ Lisette’s eyes teared up; she threw her arms wide and looked between Rebecca and Solomon as if she wanted to hug someone but wasn’t sure who. ‘That’s wonderful news. We’re so proud of you, son.’
Randy nodded and clapped Sol on the shoulder. ‘Good man.’
‘Your son is very special,’ said Rebecca.
Hugh nodded. ‘We can’t thank him enough for giving Rebecca this life-line.’
‘Well, we’re family now,’ Lisette said, ‘and family take care of each other.’ She and Sol exchanged a look that contained all the years the two of them had been a team, running from his father.
‘Shall we eat?’ Sol asked, not at all comfortable being the centre of all this praise. He didn’t understand why everyone was making such a big deal. If a stranger came up to him in the street and asked for his kidney, he’d probably hand it over on the spot. Just as he gave no thought to his own safety when rushing into a burning building.
Just one of the many reasons Paige loved him.
‘Good idea,’ she said, silently vowing to show her appreciation later.
When everyone was crowded round the small table, pretending the food piled on their plates was more edible than it looked, Paige got down to business.
Clearing her throat, she picked up her pen and opened her wedding notebook—at the top of each double page spread was the title of something that needed to be decided. Catering. Celebrant. Invitations. Music. Band. Flowers. Decoration. Photographer. Cake. Transport. Bridesmaid dresses. Suit hire. And, last but not least, the guest list. Many of these things she didn’t need their assistance with, but she wanted everyone to feel involved.
‘That’s a good idea.’ There was a note of respect in Rebecca’s voice as she nodded towards the notebook. ‘You’re so much more organised than me.’
‘This was actually Josie’s suggestion. She kept something similar for her wedding and said it helped having everything in one place.’
Her mother frowned.
‘Is Josie a friend of yours?’ Randy asked.
‘She’s the girl who wore Rebecca’s wedding dress,’ Lisette said. ‘Remember, I told you this. Paige is going to wear it as well and Josie is letting her borrow it.’
‘Ah that’s right.’ Randy nodded and went back to trying to chisel his lamb.
‘She’s been a godsend,’ Paige said. ‘She and Nik had a short engagement as well, so she’s given me all sorts of tips to organise things quickly.’
‘How long have she and her husband been married?’ Rebecca asked, putting her cutlery on her plate as if she couldn’t be bothered with the pretence of eating anymore.
‘I’m not sure exactly. Can’t be longer than two years because that’s when the second dress owner gave it to the op shop,’ Paige said. ‘Anyway, first things first. As you know we want to keep to a strict budget, but we also want the day to be a very special celebration of our love. Having the reception at your place,’ she smiled at Sol’s parents, ‘will keep costs down, but we also want to limit the guest list to just close friends and family, so we don’t need to hire too many extra tables and chairs.’
‘Are you hoping to have a sit-down meal or something more like a buffet?’ asked Lisette. ‘I have a friend who has just started a catering company and she’s keen to get business, so will do us a good deal.’
‘We were thinking more finger food,’ Sol replied, looking to Paige for clarification. She nodded. ‘Like cocktails and canapés. We want a really fun, casual vibe and that will fit better than a formal sit-down.’
‘Do you think your friend will be willing to make food to fit our theme?’ Paige asked.
‘What theme?’ asked both mums in unison.
This was the moment Paige had been waiting for. Her mum was gonna love it. ‘Well, since I’m going to be wearing your dress, which was made in the eighties, and since Sol was born in the eighties, we’ve decided to embrace that era. We’re gonna hire a jukebox with eighties hits and have a black and neon colour scheme. The bridesmaids will wear neon green, neon pink and neon purple, the groomsmen will have ties in the same colours and we’re hoping to have three cocktails to match.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ Hugh said. ‘If we can’t find your mother on the night, all we’ll need to do is head to the jukebox. Although you might need to ration her so everyone else gets a chance to pick a tune.’
‘Hardi-hah.’ Rebecca gave him a look.
Sol chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, I think Josie will give her a run for her money. That woman has an eighties obsession to rival Rebecca’s.’
Everyone laughed, except her mother. ‘You’re inviting Josie? But you guys only just met.’
‘So?’ Paige retorted. ‘We like them. Plus, she’s letting us borrow the dress.’
‘Fair enough.’ Rebecca shrugged, although her tone sounded like that of a child who hadn’t got their own way.
Trying not to let her mother’s weird mood get her down, Paige moved to the next item on the list. For the next half an hour, they discussed how they planned to tie in the theme in other areas and came up with a timeline of what needed to be organised and a list of who was in charge of doing what.
‘Before we get onto the guest list, I have one more question,’ Paige said. ‘We’ve talked a lot about the kind of wedding we want, but is there anything any of you would like us to include?’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Hugh.
Sol chuckled. ‘What Paige is trying to say is would you guys like any nods to your family heritages, either during the ceremony or at the reception? Anything Scottish or French?’ he added as he looked from Hugh to Lisette.
‘I suppose you could wear the family kilt, but I didn’t even do that when I got married.’
‘It’s your day, do what you want,’ said Lisette, ‘but it’s very sweet of you to consider us.’
‘Actually it was Josie’s idea,’ Paige admitted. ‘Until she asked where Sol came from, the thought hadn’t entered either of our heads.’
‘I can’t wait to meet this Josie,’ Lisette said, taking a sip of her drink.
Before Paige could say Josie had offered to help them make the invitations, so the two of them would meet soon, Rebecca pushed back her chair, the wooden legs shrieking against the tiled floor. Everyone glanced up at her.
‘You okay, love?’ Hugh asked, concern furrowing his brow as he too made a move to stand.
‘I’m fine.’ She waved her hand at him, picked up her plate and then dived for the empty veggie casserole dish. ‘Just thought I’d start clearing up a little. Keep chatting. I’ll listen while I wash.’
‘You don’t need to do that,’ Sol said. ‘We’ve got a dishwasher; it won’t take long to tidy up after and you certainly don’t have to help.’
Her mother sighed, her body language like that of a caged bird who’d just missed an opportunity to escape. What was her problem? She’d been so excited about the wedding when Sol first proposed and now it seemed she’d rather do anything except discuss it.
Later, when the dishwasher was packed and everyone was moving into the living room for a post-lunch coffee, Paige cornered her.
‘What’s going on?’
Rebecca blinked. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re acting strange. And I get the impression you’ve got something against Josie. Didn’t you like her when you met her the other day?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why wouldn’t I like her? I hardly know her, but neither do you—that’s my point—I just think it’s a little odd that you’re so chummy all of a sudden.’
‘I know enough,’ Paige responded, feeling defensive. Even when she was a little girl, her mother had never interfered in her friendships. ‘I know she’s funny, and clever, and kind—three traits I thought you also admired in a person.’
&n
bsp; ‘How old is she? She seems a bit older than you.’
‘In her early to mid-thirties I think.’
‘You think?! But you don’t know?’
‘No, our specific ages haven’t cropped up in conversation. I know she’s trying for a family and is worried about her biological clock, but …’ Paige shook her head—this was one of the weirdest conversations she’d ever had with her mother, perhaps with anyone. ‘Who cares how old she is? Why does her age matter? We’re both adults.’
Rebecca’s expression softened a moment. ‘Josie’s having difficulty getting pregnant?’
‘Getting pregnant hasn’t been the issue,’ Paige said, ‘but she keeps miscarrying.’ She felt slightly bad about sharing such a private thing with her mother, but hoped this knowledge might make her sympathise with her friend.
‘That’s terrible,’ Rebecca whispered. ‘Hopefully she has a good family support system.’
‘Yes, well, she’s getting support from a local charity that deals with miscarriages and stuff. That’s helping her.’ Paige picked up a box of chocolates that she was going to take into the lounge room to go with the coffee.
‘That sounds good, but what about her parents? Do they live nearby?’
‘Why are you so interested in Josie?’
‘First you accuse me of not liking her and now I’m concerned about her, you’re annoyed at that. I can’t win!’ With that she threw her hands up in the air and stormed off to join the others in the lounge room.
Paige looked at the box of chocolates in her hand and wished it was a bottle of wine instead. She had no idea what had got into her mother, but decided to check Google again later and see if one of the symptoms of kidney disease was irrational behaviour and mood swings.
Rebecca
‘Don’t take my baby.’
Physically wrung out from the horror of giving birth—it had been way more painful than she’d ever imagined possible—Rebecca tries to sit up in the bed as she calls to the nurse holding her newborn.
‘Can I hold him?’
‘It’ll be easier for you if you don’t. He’s healthy. Now rest.’
‘I want to see him! You can’t stop me seeing him!’
‘Calm yourself, Rebecca. He’s not your child.’
But, not caring what her mother or the old matron-like nurse thinks, digging deep to find some leftover inner strength, she hurls back the thin cotton sheet, uncaring of the blood dripping from her as she hurls herself at the nurse.
‘Give him to me. Let me see him.’
Reluctantly, the nurse turns and, although still gripping the tiny baby, she slowly angles him so that Rebecca can see. Her heart gasps, she feels like she might faint as she stares down at the beauty and simple perfection of this tiny human. I made him. Pride soars within her. She feels a sense of satisfaction, of cleverness.
But, as she reaches out to stroke her finger over its soft, milky skin, its face changes. The nurse is still holding a baby’s body but there is an adult face attached. She shrinks back and screams.
Looking up at her is Josie.
‘Rebecca?’ Hugh’s concerned voice jolted her from her sleep and she opened her eyes to see her husband sitting up, looking down at her, his body a silhouette in the light of the bedside lamp. ‘Are you okay? Can I get you a drink?’
‘I’m …’ Her heart still racing, she took a breath. ‘I’m fine, I just had a nightmare.’
‘Want to talk about it?’ he asked, his brow unfurrowing as he reached out to stroke his thumb over her cheek. ‘Geez, you’re hot. You’re burning up. I’m going to get you a glass of water and a cold flannel.’
As he hurried off, Rebecca closed her eyes again and forced deep breaths in and out of her lungs. This was getting out of hand. Night after night that same disturbing scene played over and over in her head. The dream itself wasn’t exactly new—over the past thirty-five years she’d often dreamt of that awful day—but its frequency had increased over the past week and tonight the finale had changed.
Tonight, the suspicion plaguing her since Paige had summoned her to see the wedding dress had finally infiltrated her slumber and she’d woken in a cold sweat.
Josie is a girl. My baby was a boy.
This had become a mantra the past few days and she said it to herself again now. There was no possible way that Josie was her baby.
Unless they lied.
Her whole body turned to ice. No, the notion seemed preposterous—what reason could her parents possibly have had to lie about the sex of her baby all these years? But maybe there’d been some kind of mix-up.
Before Rebecca could think this possibility through, Hugh returned to the room, carrying a glass of water and a carefully folded damp flannel. He perched on the edge of the bed and offered her the drink. Although it was cold, it didn’t quench the thirst deep within her. It didn’t make her feel any better and neither did the cold cloth when he gently laid it on her forehead.
He appeared to have forgotten about her nightmare and was more concerned about her health. ‘You’ve got a dialysis appointment tomorrow afternoon, don’t you? Maybe you should see if Dr Chopra is available and have a chat about how you’re feeling. Or do you think we should go get you checked out now?’
It was three o’clock in the morning and she was pretty certain any doctor would discover her to be physically fine, well, aside from her increased heart-rate and the condition they already knew about.
‘No.’ She put the cloth on the bedside table and forced a smile for her husband. ‘Come back to bed. I’m okay.’
Hugh took a moment to acquiesce. ‘Okay, but if you’re still not feeling great in the morning, I’ll take the day off and drive you to dialysis.’
Then he switched off the lamp and climbed in beside her. As he held her close, Rebecca lay there wondering if it was time to confide in him. Keeping it all cooped up inside was driving her insane. But what would she say?
Hey darling, I know I haven’t mentioned this before, but a long time ago, before we met, I had a baby. All these years I’ve thought I had a son, but now I think maybe I actually had a girl.
What part of that statement would he hear first? Would he be angry? Hugh had always been such a rational, reasonable person and it wasn’t like she’d had an affair or anything. All this had happened thirty-five years ago; he might be shocked, maybe a little hurt she’d kept a secret, but he would recover quickly and then he’d be able to tell her what the hell to do.
‘Hugh?’ she finally whispered in the dark.
‘Mmm.’ He already sounded half asleep again.
‘If I tell you something big … will you promise not to get angry with me?’
In reply, he loosened his grip on her and switched on the bedside light. ‘What is it?’
Rebecca blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light; she noticed he didn’t make any promises. Nausea filled her gut and her mouth went dry.
‘What’s wrong?’ A slight panic crept into his usually calm voice. ‘What have you done?’
‘I had another baby once.’ Just that one statement had tears rushing to her eyes; she wasn’t sure she’d even be able to get the rest out.
Hugh shook his head slightly as if perhaps this was a dream. ‘I’m sorry.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Did you say you have another child? Apart from Paige?’ She could almost see the cogs ticking in his brain as he tried to grapple with this news. ‘How? Before me?’
She managed a nod.
‘But you were practically a child when we met. Your parents joked you didn’t even have a proper boyfriend before me. I thought you were a virgin!’
‘They lied.’ About that and who knew what else. And, she herself had never actually told him she was a virgin, but she’d never corrected his assumptions either. Probably not the time to get hung up on semantics.
Hugh slumped back against the headboard and ran his hand through his hair. ‘This is a hell of a conversation for three o’clock in the morning.’
‘I’m
sorry,’ she said simply. She’d had over thirty years to come clean—all that time she’d been searching for the right moment and now she could see there was never a perfect moment for confessions like these. How had she ever thought burying it was a good idea? In that moment she hated her parents for making her think it was.
‘I guess you better start talking,’ he said eventually, his tone chillingly cold. ‘Who was the father? What happened to the baby? Was it a boy or a girl?’
‘I can answer the first two questions, but the third one is giving me the nightmares.’
‘Stop talking in riddles,’ Hugh snapped. ‘What happened?’
And so she told him.
‘I was fifteen when I got pregnant to my high school boyfriend—he was seventeen. We were terrified when we found out but he said he’d stand by me, that he’d support me and the baby, and we’d get married as soon as we were old enough. My parents were horrified—they worried what their church friends would say and Dad thought it looked bad that the sergeant couldn’t stop his own daughter from making such stupid mistakes. Robbie and I told them we were in love, but then Robbie got cold feet. He changed his mind and said he didn’t want to have anything to do with me or the baby anymore.’
She swallowed—remembering just how painful that declaration had been.
‘Without his help, what choice did I have? Mum and I went to stay with an old school friend of hers who had moved to Perth—she told everyone we were going to look after a sick relative. I had the baby there and then gave it up. By the time we returned to New South Wales, Dad had been transferred back to the city from Cobar and Anthony was already at high school in Sydney. Mum and Dad told me to move on as well, to forget about Robbie and remember that the baby was in a better place.’
‘And just like that, you forgot?’
‘No, of course not.’ She sniffed, hurt by the derision in his voice. ‘Giving up a child is something you never forget. Giving birth to Paige made it all so real again—the depression I had then was as much about losing my first baby as it was about her or new motherhood.’
‘Perhaps you could have told me back then? Maybe I’d have understood better how you were feeling.’ Before she could reply, he added, ‘So why now? Why at three in the morning do you decide to tell me all this? Is it because you’re sick?’
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