The Ties That Bind

by Lexi Landsman

  Her mother was sobbing now, each word a struggle through her fractured voice. Courtney opened her eyes and looked at Asha’s tear-streaked face, like marks of her mistakes. Courtney walked to the edge of the fence, nauseated, dizzy like her legs would give way beneath her. She didn’t want to have this woman’s genes. She didn’t want to think that they could share any qualities.

  ‘When did you tell my father that you weren’t going to meet him in Fiji?’

  Asha rubbed her tears with the hem of her white dress. ‘I wrote him a letter. I put in the pearl necklace he gave me; it was for you. I sent the first little pink socks you wore, your blanky and one of my favourite colourful scarves. I was a coward. A pathetic human being. In the letter I told him not to tell me where he would take you, that I didn’t want to know. I told him never to contact me again. And he was probably so hurt by what I’d done that he listened.’

  Courtney couldn’t face her. She pressed her hands into the fence until the wire spokes scratched her palms. ‘Why?’ Courtney said with her back turned.

  ‘When I look back now, I think maybe there was an element of post-natal depression. I don’t know exactly why I did what I did. But what I am sure of is that I was driven by fear. Fear of leaving Paul. Fear of leaving the only place I’d ever felt like I belonged in. Fear of my life unravelling. Fear of the unknown. But mainly,’ she paused, swallowing, ‘fear of being a mother. I didn’t want to be a bad mother like mine was to me, so I thought I’d avoid motherhood altogether.’

  Asha stared at the olive grove and then walked over to the fence where Courtney stood. Courtney kept her gaze down, afraid to see longing and regret in her mother’s cold blue eyes. ‘I did love you,’ she said softly. ‘And I adored Frank. I lost the two people I loved most and I’ve spent my life regretting that decision.’

  Courtney wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of knowing how hurtful every word of her confession had been. ‘What happened after you wrote the letter?’ she said, ignoring Asha’s admission of love.

  ‘The whole town searched for you. There were newspaper articles and posters up for you everywhere. Paul slipped into a deep depression. He thought it was his fault. He thought he’d failed you as a father. He had no idea that I was the one who’d failed everyone. Especially you.’

  Courtney couldn’t speak. The lie was far greater, far more piercing, more destructive than she could have ever imagined. Courtney felt physical pain thinking that her entry into this world was one burdened with such grief, lies and betrayal.

  ‘It took me a long time to get over the trauma of my own choices. I didn’t think I deserved happiness. I certainly felt like I didn’t deserve another child. Paul thought another baby would heal him. Heal us. For ten years, I secretly took birth-control pills and pretended I couldn’t fall pregnant. And then one day I just stopped taking them, and soon after I was pregnant again. I had Jade nearly ten years after you and I loved her and I thought she could absolve me of my mistakes, mend me. But seeing her dependence on me only reminded me that I had abandoned you, and the guilt grew and grew. That was when I started looking for you. Everyone thought it was some sort of delayed sign of my grief and that I needed to be alone. I went to places I thought your father might have taken you but eventually I realised my search was futile. I would never find you. And every time I returned home, I felt like I was trapped in my own prison. Every second of being with Paul reminded me of what I’d done, and in the end I travelled to escape myself. And it was my own punishment – the one place I thought I couldn’t leave, wouldn’t let me stay. Letting you go shattered my soul and I’ve spent my life searching for what I lost.’

  Courtney struggled to absorb the depth of Asha’s admission. She felt shaken to her core. It was as if her mother had taken Courtney’s once-intact identity and smashed it into fragments.

  Asha’s face looked grey under the glow from the streetlight. ‘Are you going to tell the police? I deserve to go to jail. But if you do, your father will too.’

  ‘No,’ Courtney scorned. ‘What good would it do? I’m in my thirties now. I have a family, a life far away from you. I’ll just leave you with your guilt. That’s enough justice for me.’

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ her mother said tenderly. She stepped closer and lifted a strand of Courtney’s hair from her face, catching her off guard. ‘You are so beautiful. And at least you’ve been loved.’

  Courtney bit down the urge to hurl insults at this woman and instead reminded herself that this journey was never really about her. ‘I came here to find you, not to give you forgiveness,’ she said, surprised at her bitterness. ‘I came here to find you because I need you.’

  Courtney stepped into the moonlight falling through the branches of the willow tree. ‘I have a son, a beautiful boy.’ Asha smiled for the first time, her eyes glowing, as if sharing these details of her life was Courtney’s way of extending an olive branch. But in her next words, Courtney made it clear that the disclosure was far from an offering of forgiveness.

  ‘He’s sick,’ she said, feeling the words catch in her throat. ‘He has cancer.’ Asha’s face dropped. ‘He needs a bone-marrow transplant or he will die. The doctors have told us that because he inherited a rare tissue type from me, his best hope of finding a stem-cell match is within my biological family. That’s why I came here and left my son when he needed me the most. I came to find you. You and your daughter are our last hope.’

  54

  DAVID was asleep on a hospital chair when his phone rang.

  ‘David,’ Courtney said, breathlessly. ‘It’s so good to hear your voice.’

  David crept quietly out of the hospital room, not wanting to wake Matthew.

  ‘Are you there, David?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his tone icy.

  ‘Were you asleep?’

  ‘No. I’m at the hospital, with our son. You know, the one who was supposed to start his next round of chemo today?’

  David could almost hear the slap of realisation. ‘Oh my God,’ she said, more to herself than to him. ‘I didn’t even call. I forgot. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, David. Does he hate me? Is he angry?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t hate you,’ David said with the sort of precision in his voice he preserved for those prickly moments in surgery. ‘In fact, he thinks you’re going to save him from having to go through this again. He thinks you’re coming back with medicine to make him better because that’s what you told him, and that’s what he told the nurse here. And that’s your lie, so you can be the one to tell him the truth.’

  ‘David, I’m so sorry. So much has happened today. You won’t –’

  Before she could finish her sentence, David launched into an update on Matthew’s condition. He thought about playing it down to prevent her worrying but instead he just gave her the facts. ‘Matthew was admitted to the hospital early. He wasn’t feeling well, so I brought him in for a blood test and his neutrophil count has dropped, his iron is low. They’ve given him another blood transfusion. His neutrophil count will have to go up before they start him on chemo.’

  David could hear her breathing quicken. ‘I wish I was there,’ she said.

  He wanted to say, Well you’re not, but again he had to swallow his anger and remind himself that, even though he didn’t agree with her decision to go, she left believing it was the only way she could help their son. A part of him felt like she was simply running away. Something he wished he could do.

  ‘It wasn’t all for nothing,’ Courtney said, her voice splintered. ‘I found my mother.’

  David tried to absorb what she was saying. It was no longer a series of what-ifs; she’d actually found what she went there for and, maybe now, he should cut her a little slack. Especially with his shameful behaviour, which was playing heavily on his conscience. He was the one who should be receiving the cold shoulder.

  ‘Aren’t you going to say anything?’ she said when David remained silent. ‘David, I know you’re angry with me. And I know you feel like I’ve aban
doned you, but please, don’t forget why I did this, why I came all the way over here. Do you think it was easy for me, leaving Matthew? Do you? Do you think it was what I wanted? Do you think it was easy, knowing I couldn’t save him myself? That I had no one? No family. I couldn’t even give him a sibling. Well, before you think it’s been like a vacation for me, stop. Because this week has been hell.’

  David felt her words like blades. How did they get here? How did their marriage become a series of blame games? He swallowed his pride and reminded himself that he was a husband, not just a father. ‘I’m sorry, Courtney,’ he said, willing himself to be honest. ‘I have blamed you.’ He looked around the quiet halls of the hospital and felt more alone than he ever had. He could no longer keep up his facade of strength. ‘I don’t want Matthew to suffer. I just want this all to be over.’

  ‘Me too,’ Courtney said.

  David stared out the hospital window. ‘Did you ask your birth mother?’

  ‘Ask what?’

  ‘If she’d be tested.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said.

  David felt a surge of new, raw hope. Maybe it wasn’t all for nothing. Maybe Courtney’s instincts had been right.

  ‘And, David …’ Courtney took a deep breath. ‘I have a sister.’

  After Jade was carried to the cabin, she gave in to the mental and physical exhaustion and fell into a feverish sleep made of vivid dreams.

  She was seven, sitting by the river with her mother braiding her hair while her father smiled, happy in love. They were laughing until a whisper escaped Jade’s mouth, When can I have a sister?

  Then she dreamed of her mother’s blonde hair lifting in the wind, her long neck brushing against the willow leaves and her bare feet disappearing into the bush. The leaves closed over her and Jade was lost.

  It’s my fault. I did this to her.

  And then something beyond her dream was trying to pull her out of it, a hand touched her own. It was dry and cracked. You must stop waiting, agapi mou.

  The dream shifted. She was running through the olive grove. It was boiling; the heat was rising. Her skin felt like it was burning. The fires were coming. She sprinted to the creek.

  Her temperature is raging.

  She jumped into the water, it was cold, freezing. Her body started to tremble.

  The fever won’t relent.

  In the dream, Adam was suddenly there. He lifted her from the water and carried her.

  Her eyes opened as she woke up. She saw Adam at her bedside staring out the window, his body framed in silver light. ‘Adam,’ she whispered, unsure if she was still dreaming.

  He turned to see her open eyes and smiled. ‘You’re awake, at last.’

  Jade’s head was heavy, her neck stiff. She felt foggy and confused. She could barely keep her eyes open. For a moment, she forgot how she got there, and then she remembered falling down the ravine.

  ‘We think you might have a mild concussion and looks like you’ve sprained your right ankle, so we’ve left an ice pack on it. But you were lucky. You could have broken both your legs. Jade, you could have broken your back.’

  She looked at his face, seeing the concern in his eyes. ‘How long have I slept for?’

  He glanced at the closed door. ‘A few hours.’

  Jade looked around and realised she was on her father’s bed. She remembered Paul’s voice whispering as he lifted her, telling her that she would be okay now. With all the weaknesses she resented in her father, she knew he loved her unreservedly. She felt guilty for having thought so little of him, especially in light of the night’s revelations. Asha was at the root of her father’s despair. She understood him now and despised her mother even more.

  ‘Has my mother been here?’

  ‘Yes. Apparently your father went to the house looking for you when you didn’t come home, and found your mother there. She told him you ran off, and he went searching for you,’ Adam said in a delicate voice. ‘He must have told her where the cabin was. I stood outside the bedroom door when she came in to see you. I could hear her weeping. She said over and over again that she should never have left you. That it was her fault.’

  Hearing her mother’s pathetic apology only made Jade angrier. Where was she when I was growing up? When I needed her there? ‘Does my father know why I ran off?’

  ‘I don’t know myself,’ Adam shrugged. ‘If your father does, he hasn’t let on.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have told him the truth. She’s too cowardly for that.’

  Jade felt seething rage that her mother had destroyed so many lives, and all for her own selfish reasons. Who would her father be now if not for Asha’s lies? What would life have been like with a sister?

  Jade thought of Rose, struggling to absorb that the woman was her older sister. She had the same sharp blue eyes as her mother but there was a kindness about her, a fragility that Asha did not possess.

  Jade closed her eyes again and pushed back the hurt. It was all-consuming. ‘Will you lie with me?’ she asked.

  Adam took off his shoes and rested them against the door. He climbed under the cover and she felt the warmth of his skin against her own. He held her tightly, as if she might run away. Adam looked at her with such concern that she felt overwhelming love for him. ‘I want you to come with me and leave this place. I don’t know what’s happened. But I can’t see you like this. You deserve so much more. You don’t have to make your mind up now.’ She rested her head on his chest, knowing in that moment that she had made her decision.

  ‘Yes, I’ll go with you,’ Jade said calmly, her voice a whisper. She tried to sit up. Each movement felt laboured, like running against a current. ‘I want to go now,’ Jade said. ‘Can I stay with you until I feel well again? I can’t stay here. I can’t face my mother.’

  Adam helped her up. She took her few clothes and bundled them into a bag. She saw him searching the room for more possessions. ‘There’s nothing here, Adam. It’s all gone. This bag is all I’ve got.’

  They were careful to be quiet. Jade held onto him as she limped out of her father’s room. Paul was asleep on the couch. There was no sign of her mother. She knew it was best to go now before she let guilt for leaving her father and grandmother keep her there. She didn’t have time to reflect on the gravity of this decision to leave. She didn’t think about how her father would feel when he realised he’d lost his second daughter, not knowing that the first was never his to begin with.

  When they opened the door softly and crept outside, Jade’s heart jumped. Helena was asleep on the rocking chair outside. Her grandmother stirred. ‘Jade,’ she whispered. ‘You’re awake, my sweet girl.’

  Adam walked ahead and Jade sat down next to Helena and took her hand. ‘Yes, YiaYia,’ she said.

  Helena surveyed her face, taking in the puffiness of her glazed eyes. ‘I wish I could have protected you better,’ Helena sighed.

  ‘YiaYia, none of this is your fault. You’re the one person who has been there for me, always.’ Helena held Jade’s hand tighter. Fog drifted in the air in pools of indigo light against the velvety blackness. The grass was wet with dew and the moon was heavy and full.

  ‘YiaYia, I’m leaving.’

  Jade waited for her grandmother to tell her she shouldn’t go, but instead Helena smiled and wiped the tears from Jade’s eyes. ‘I will miss you, agapi mou. But this is for the best. That boy,’ she said and looked ahead at Adam standing in the distance waiting, ‘he loves you.’

  ‘Will you be okay here, YiaYia?’ Jade whispered.

  ‘You mustn’t worry about me, agapi mou. As long as I know you are fine, I will be okay.’

  ‘I’m going to miss you so much.’ She nestled her head into her grandmother’s shoulder, feeling the creases of her aged skin. ‘But you can come to visit me in Sydney. Adam loves your cooking,’ she said, forcing herself to smile. The only comfort Jade had in leaving was knowing that she had built the house for them, with everything her grandmother had wanted.

 
Blinking through tears, Jade kissed Helena’s wrinkled hand. How she would miss holding her grandmother’s olive-stained fingers and the scent of honeycomb in her hair. Getting squashed in her bosom-heavy hugs. Dusting flour off her clothes. The smell of garlic, cinnamon and spices of her baked moussaka.

  ‘You know, agapi mou, when I was leaving Greece for Australia when I was sixteen, I stood by the ship ready to board and at the very last moment, I couldn’t,’ Helena told her, her eyes staring ahead. ‘I ran to my mother and father and cried that I didn’t want to leave them. I didn’t want to leave my home.’

  Jade listened, surprised she had never heard the story. Tears fell down her grandmother’s face. ‘And do you know what my mother said to me?’

  Jade shook her head.

  ‘My mother took my hand and placed a bag of olive seeds in it and said, “Helena, take a bit of home with you and it will be wherever you are.”’

  Helena lifted herself off the rocking chair and went inside towards the vase in the kitchen. When she returned outside moments later, she was carrying a small olive branch, which she handed to Jade.

  Jade kissed her grandmother’s head and held her ageing hands another moment. They stared at each other and smiled, knowing in the silence that words would never be enough.

  Jade walked towards Adam, who stood in the silver mist of the forest.

  She looked back at her grandmother one last time. And then she left.

  55

  COURTNEY stared out the window as the plane took off, and watched her past shrink beneath her. She could make out the sloping hills and wide expanses of land. She could see spots of black and green like a patchwork made from the fire’s stroke. She closed her eyes and imagined she was someone else leaving her home for a holiday. A country girl with tanned, freckled skin and long lean limbs, who knew when to pluck ripe vegetables from the earth and how to name a rose. A girl who knew exactly who she was. A girl like Jade. A girl Courtney might have been if one decision had been different.