‘It’s a daily ritual now I have to work from home. Empty the mail box and pick up an espresso next door.’ He waved a thick pile of large envelopes. ‘You looked like you were frozen on the spot.’
‘Oh, no. Just posting some mail.’ She thrust the letters into the box and it snapped shut behind them. She heard the soft rustle and thud as they hit the bottom. Too late now. They’d gone.
Writing then posting the letters was one of the hardest choices Kate had ever made. It was even harder than telling Mum twenty years ago she’d met her birth mother.
‘You could have told me before you went,’ Mum had said quietly, plucking at the blooms on the winter sweet in the vase on the dining room table.
‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’ Kate shifted in her chair.
‘So why tell me now?’
‘I’d have to tell you sooner or later.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And I wanted you to know that it wasn’t the big event I’d always expected. If anything, it was a bit of a disappointment.’
She looked across at her mother, who continued to fiddle with the flowers. After a moment, she looked up at her daughter and smiled thinly. It was hard to read the look in her eyes, but a shadow of relief seemed to cross her face.
‘So what was she like?’ Mum said at last.
Kate thought for a moment. She should have prepared an answer; she had no idea what to say. It had seemed so easy, telling David; he’d laughed with her at the anti-climax after Kate had yearned so long for the reunion to occur.
But telling Mum was different. She knew that Mum had dreaded this moment – she’d said so often enough. This was Kate’s chance to set her mind at rest. She put her coffee mug down and fiddled with the last piece of muffin on her plate. Mum made great muffins, each time a new flavour, trying out a recipe she’d cut out from the paper or a magazine.
‘She wasn’t like you at all,’ she said at last. ‘Or like me. Although I think she might look a little bit like me.’ Kate reached down and patted the cocker spaniel nosing around her chair looking for muffin crumbs.
‘So what was she like?’ Mum prompted again.
‘You’ve got so much energy, Mum, you’re always on the go, always doing something – usually to help someone else – and I feel you’ve made me that way too. But Liz – that’s what she calls herself, not Elizabeth – she seemed so passive, so lacking in energy or drive, she seemed to have no confidence in herself. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was suffering from depression.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Mum looked surprised and a little relieved. ‘You know, that’s not how I pictured her at all.’
‘You pictured her?’
‘Yes, I’ve always had an image of a confident, almost forward young woman who would end up doing very well for herself, who would pick herself up and have a career.’
‘She said she worked in a draughtsman’s office for a while tracing plans, but she never got much beyond tracing other people’s work and left as soon as she got married. She never went back to it. Not like you.’
Rose smiled. ‘Did she say anything about her other children?’
‘She doesn’t want me to meet them. She made me promise not to tell them until she’s ready.’
‘Oh Kate, I’m sorry,’ Rose put her hand out to cover her daughter’s and gave it a comforting squeeze. ‘That would have been like closing the final gap for you.’
‘But the incredible thing was that I’d already met my brother, Rick – she calls him Richard – I met him once when I interviewed him, and I never knew.’
‘That’s so sad. You didn’t know at the time, and now you’re going to have to wait a whole lot longer. What if you meet him again through work and Liz still hadn’t given you permission to tell him?’
Kate had already thought about that. ‘To tell you the truth, I’d be torn. I don’t know what I’d do. I’ve thought seriously about wangling an interview with him somehow. He’s got plays coming out every few years and it’s only a matter of time before one of them comes to Christchurch.’
‘Would you say something? Would you let him know?’
‘I’d be very tempted.’
But it had never happened.
Three days after posting the letter she got a call from her brother Rick. She was sitting in the lounge watching Sunday Theatre with David and James, who was back home while studying Business at the Polytech. Amelia was in Auckland, where she’d been working in marketing for ACP magazines since graduating just over a year ago.
Kate recognised the voice immediately – the rounded vowels, the range of expression, dropping to that deep bass resonance mid-sentence.
‘Hello Rick,’ she said.
David picked up on it immediately; his eyebrows shot up and his mouth opened in a wide grin. He mimed a high five.
She grinned back, trying to hide her nerves, and took the phone through to the dining room
‘Your letter came as a huge shock,’ he said. ‘We had absolutely no idea.’
‘I’m sorry it was so sudden like that. But I didn’t know how else…’
‘No, it’s fine, really, in fact it’s a bit of a relief.’
‘It is?’ This was unexpected.
‘Yes, you see, Mum’s been so sick these last few years, hyperventilating, really in a bad way. She had to go into hospital for a while and she’s been taking medication for depression ever since. I’ve been sure there’s something behind it, something that’s been causing it. I was so worried, so sure there was a cause, I asked her not long ago was there something she hadn’t told us? Something in her past that was upsetting her, perhaps? But she said no, nothing. And then your letter arrived. I was so relieved to learn about you.’
‘I’m sorry she’s been upset. And I hope this doesn’t make it worse. She made me promise not to tell you. She said she’d been unwell and just couldn’t cope with it.’
‘I knew as soon as I read your letter. Mum started getting sick right about the time when the Adoption Law changed and when you came back into her life.’ Rick laughed. Laughed! ‘At last we know what’s behind it all. And we can start to deal with it, to help her through it.’
Kate swallowed. Was she really the cause of all this pain?
‘I’m sorry I …’
‘No, stop apologising, it’s not your fault. It’s just wonderful you’ve turned up at last. I think you may be the answer to all her problems.’
Would he tell Liz? Yes, he said, but possibly not for a while. He’d talk it through with Jessie, and with his Aunt Penny, his mother’s younger sister.
They talked about getting together, ‘meeting again now I know who you are’ and about Jessie’s reaction. She’d been less enthusiastic than Rick; having not met Kate before, she didn’t know if she could believe her, and she found it even harder to believe that her mother could have had a past life involving an illegitimate baby.
As Rick talked, Kate could understand perfectly how Jessie felt. She would find it equally impossible if someone had announced out of the blue they were her sister or brother. She knew of innumerable people it had happened to, and it hadn’t always gone well.
It was funny talking to this man who was now her brother. It felt like she’d known him all her life, like she could confide in him, tell him how it had been all this time not being able to talk to him, not being able to break her promise.
They ended the conversation at thirty-eight minutes and twenty-two seconds, according to the phone display, after swapping email addresses and agreeing to meet soon.
‘That was a marathon effort.’ David switched off the television when she came back into the lounge. ‘Did it go well?’
Kate couldn’t stop grinning. ‘Very well.’ She didn’t know what else to say, where to begin. It was too big to put into words.
‘Do you think you’ll get to meet him and your sister soon?’
‘I think so. My sister, Jessie, she’s not so keen. But Rick says she’ll come round soon. She just needs to take it i
n.’
‘Can’t say I blame her.’
David patted the sofa next to her. Kate sat.
‘Are you happy now?’
‘Happy? I suppose I am. I mean, I’m worried about Jessie, about whether she’ll come round, and about Liz, and what she’ll say when she finds out when I’ve broken my promise. But for now, yes, I’m happy. I’ve found my brother. I’ve wanted to do that for twenty years. Now all I need is to meet him, and my sister.’
‘I’m pleased for you,’ he said, extending his arm across Kate’s back and giving her a hug. ‘I know you’ve wanted this for a long time.’
‘Grandpa would be pleased too,’ James said.
‘He would?’
‘Yes, he used to say you’d never feel complete until you found your original family.’
‘He said that to you?’
‘Yeah! Course. He liked to talk, you know.’
Kate nodded. She knew.
‘I asked him once about you being adopted,’ James continued. ‘I think it was when you had breast cancer and were talking about it being in your genes from your mother – your other mother. Grandpa said there was a part of you that was missing, and that would only be restored once you found the family that you belonged to originally.’
‘I can’t believe…’
‘He said he always wished he’d been able to help you with that. He’d be happy you’ve found them’
‘I can tell him next time I see him.’
‘It’s his birthday soon.’
‘I’ll tell him then. I’ll put flowers on his grave and tell him all about it.’
Kate didn’t mind saying it out loud. Talking to her father while she stood under the drooping cherry blossom at the back of the cemetery seemed to ease her mind. A problem shared, as they say. Not that she imagined her father talking back. She wasn’t into that spiritual reincarnation sort of stuff. But he’d always listened, and somehow she felt he still did.
David gave her shoulders another light squeeze. ‘He’d like that.’
Chapter 4.
Mid-2011
‘Hey sis! Where‘ve you been all my life?’ Rick was standing in the Circa Theatre foyer grinning, shifting from foot to foot, then started moving towards Kate while calling her name. The heavy door banged shut behind her as she hurried across the foyer and hooked her arms around his shoulders, feeling the soft leather of his figure-hugging motor-bike jacket. It slipped through her fingers, releasing that wonderful animal smell. She suspected she would remember this moment, the feel of this smooth leather and breathing its pungency for the rest of her life.
‘I should have recognised you the first time we met,’ he said. ‘How could I not see that? You look just like my mother looked twenty years ago.’
‘Do I?’ Kate stood back from Rick and studied him, fingering her hair self-consciously. ‘I don’t know if I look like you though. You’re different somehow.’
‘That’s what they all say. I think I’m a throwback to my grandfather rather than my mother.’ He stood profile on and pretended to preen. ‘What do you think? My grandfather was a handsome bugger.’ Then he laughed, a hearty, deep-throated husky chuckle, not at all like Kate’s. ‘Come on, let’s go over to the café and order a coffee.’
They ordered and sank into the deep leather settees facing the waterfront.
‘A sunny, calm day,’ Kate said. ‘Wellington Harbour looks so beautiful when it’s like this.’
‘It’s always like this in Wellington,’ he said, grinning.
‘That’s what you all say here.’ She paused, unsure whether to refer to her letter so soon. ‘I want to thank you for taking this all so well. I didn’t …’
‘No, thank you. You’re the best thing that’s happened to us for a long time.’
Kate took a moment for that to sink in then said, ‘But what about Liz?’
‘Penny and I went to talk to her last week and she seemed fine with it. In fact, she seemed quite relieved to be able to talk about it at last. I didn’t think she was going to stop.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She talked about being sent away from her home, how lonely she felt in Christchurch, how the time dragged by until at last you were born, then she wasn’t allowed to even hold you. She said she’s never forgotten that moment when you were taken away and she never saw you again.’
Kate swallowed. She’d often imagined what that must have been like for Liz, but couldn’t even begin to understand. ‘What else did she say?’
‘She told us about your father, that he was good looking, swept her off her feet so fast she just couldn’t say no. He was tall, sporty, she said, and he looked so handsome in his uniform, she just went along with him. She said she had no idea what she was doing, what he wanted her to do. She said she’d talked about ‘it’ with her friends, but when it came to it, she had no idea what ‘it’ was, what was expected of her. She was under the impression she’d be able to do ‘it’ with her pants on.’
‘That’s incredible.’
‘Penny and I weren’t expecting that at all. It was like the floodgates had been opened at last and out it came in a rush.’
‘Was Penny shocked?’
‘I don’t think so. She told me she’d known about you for years. ‘
‘Yes, she told me that when I met her.’
‘She said she’d been thinking of telling me and Jessie but didn’t ever find the opportunity. I think Penny’s quite glad the secret’s out.’
A waitress brought their coffees.
Kate pulled hers towards her, picked up the spoon and played with it.
Rick poured a finger of sugar into his black coffee and stirred it. ‘I hope I haven’t upset you,’ he said.
‘What? No, I …’
‘I didn’t mean to go into all that detail about what Mum said. Certainly not so soon after we met.’ He lifted the spoon out of the cup and set it down. ‘I don’t even know how you feel about all that. It’s so personal.’ He picked up his cup and blew across it, fixing her with his eyes. ‘I was going to say “I don’t know what came over me”, but I do know. It’s you. It’s like I’ve known you all my life. I just feel so comfortable with you, like I can say anything….’ He tailed off.
‘So do I.’ Kate felt close to tears but made sure they didn’t spill. She didn’t want him to think her emotional. Instead, she sipped her coffee. It was hot and burned her tongue. The tears came closer to spilling.
After that, they couldn’t stop talking. An hour flew by, two, three. The waitress brought more coffees and a flask of water, then tea with carrot cake. They talked about everything – their partners, families, family traits and foibles, their work and their hobbies, their favourite movies and books, plays and music.
And then it was time to go – Rick to record a radio commercial, Kate to meet her friend Vanessa. By then, they’d agreed there would be a family reunion at Rick’s place as soon as it could be arranged to get everyone there – everyone from Kate’s family as well as his.
‘I’m sorry Mum isn’t still with us. She’d have loved to be at the reunion,’ Kate said as she hugged Rick goodbye.
‘It won’t be family without both your mothers,’ Rick said.
Kate’s Mum had died nearly two years earlier from a massive stroke in her ninety-fifth year. In some ways, Kate was glad she wasn’t still around. Sure, she’d have been pleased that Kate was finally meeting up with her family; Mum had listened patiently for years to Kate’s complaining about how long it was taking. But Kate doubted that she’d want to come to the reunion. She was frail and a plane trip might have been too much for her; besides, the Hamilton family wasn’t her family and she’d have felt like an intruder. ‘No, you go dear, then come back and tell me all about it,’ Kate could imagine her saying.
Mum would have hated the earthquakes too. Her church, the rose window in the Cathedral, the Provincial Chambers, most of the beautiful old buildings she loved were all coming down. If the stroke hadn’t kille
d her, grief from the earthquakes would have.
Kate missed her every day, missed the ease with which they could share thoughts, feelings, and news both good and bad; missed the comfort of a mother’s understanding; missed the security of her love.
There was another mother now, but she hardly knew her. They’d met only once. Liz knew nothing of the policeman in the nursery, the two hours and forty-eight minutes, the shared effort of picking up her Dad off the floor time after time, the search for identity. She couldn’t know; she hadn’t been there.
~ ~ ~
The taxi dropped Kate in front of Rick’s unpretentious, neat weatherboard villa in Karori just a few minutes after two-thirty. As David paid the driver, she gathered the bunch of daffodils she’d brought for her mother off the back seat, stepped out onto the kerb and looked around at her family – her husband David, relaxed, in jeans and a jacket, not at all concerned about what lay ahead; her daughter Amelia, a bit of an Aucklander now, after five years working in marketing and living across from Eden Park, sunglasses pushed back on her head, her long brown hair sleek and loose. She was dressed to make an impression in tight black jeans and high black boots, as sophisticated as her twenty-eight years would allow. And towering over her, James, twenty-four, as casual as his father, swapping his trackies under protest for jeans and a t-shirt without any holes. He’d managed to change a shift to get the day off – much harder now that jobs were so hard to come by.
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