He sat in silence for a moment and then looked up into her eyes. 'Mum was still alive when I came home.' Dana opened her mouth but he held up his hand. 'Let me explain, okay?'
She nodded silently.
'All the time that I was away, I kept in touch with my old school friend, Keith. I suppose I was always afraid that one day Dad might actually hurt Mum. Keith always had a contact number for me, and he promised to call if he was ever concerned. At the beginning everything seemed to work exactly as I had hoped. He saw you coming and going to school and Father going out for his walks. Later, after you left, his mother met ours at the shops and reported that she was quiet but seemed fine. Then a few days before Mum died, Keith phoned me to say that his mum hadn't seen her for a while. She'd asked around and soon realized that it had been weeks since Mum had been seen out. That scared me so I decided I had to come home.'
Dana was on the edge of her seat now, watching him anxiously.
He sighed. 'My instincts were right but not in the way I'd imagined. Dad hadn't hurt Mum. She was sick, Dana.'
'What was wrong?' Dana whispered.
'They weren't sure. She was due to go in for tests the following week. But she had a bad cough, shortness of breath and some chest pain. The GP suspected heart problems.'
Dana shook her head. 'But she fell down the stairs.'
'I'm not finished,' he said. 'I asked Dad if he had contacted you, but he said he was waiting for the results of the tests. Mum didn't want him to worry you. I didn't talk much with him at all other than that. I sat with Mum and he left us alone. She wasn't well. Her breathing was quite laboured and she looked frail. I told her all the things I'd done, the places I'd been. She seemed happy I was there. She drifted in and out of sleep and sometimes seemed disorientated when she woke. At one point, I'm not sure she even knew who I was.'
Dana's heart went out to him as his eyes filled up. 'She hadn't seen you for over three years and if she wasn't well...'
He nodded. 'I know. So I asked her about you — where you were, what you were doing. She started to cry and said that Father had sent you away. I couldn't make much sense of what she said at first, but then she became quite lucid. She told me about your abortion.'
Dana opened her mouth to say something, but found she couldn't. 'I didn't think you knew,' she finally whispered.
'Keith didn't know anything about it. Dad kept it very quiet. But, then, he was good at that.' Ed looked at his sister. 'I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Dana. I'm so sorry I wasn't here to help.'
'Was Mum ashamed of me?' Dana asked, her voice shaking.
'No! No, she was just heartbroken for you, and furious with Dad. She said he was more worried about his image, and what people would say, than what his daughter was going through. She told me how he sent you away to that boarding school and found ways to stop you coming home in the holidays. She felt guilty that she'd let him send you away, but at the same time she'd known you might be better off.'
'I missed her so much.' Dana started to cry, great big heaving sobs. 'She was the only reason I hadn't thrown myself under a train.'
'Dana!'
'It's true. I thought I'd go out of my mind when I came home from London. Putting one foot in front of the other was such an effort. She was my only reason to live. And then he sent me away. I often thought about ending it all. Then I'd think of her and I knew I couldn't.'
Dana had to stop, her tears choking her. After her sobs had subsided, Ed handed her a tissue. 'Are you okay?'
'Yeah.'
'She loved you so much, Dana. She told me about the few weeks you had together in Dublin. She enjoyed every minute of that.'
Dana smiled through her tears. 'That was just before I started university. She spent a fortune on me. I said Dad would go mad but she didn't care. It was a very special time. It really made me realize — made us both realize — how little time we'd ever had alone together.'
'That's sad.'
She nodded, unable to speak.
He looked down into her face. 'Will you tell me about what happened in London?'
'Later. But I want you to finish your story first.'
He hesitated. 'I'm afraid that by the time I've finished, you'll never want to talk to me again.'
Dana stared at him, wiping her tears away with her hand. 'You have to tell me, Ed.'
'Okay then. Mum fell asleep again and I went to find Dad. I was furious, really angry. It was like that moment in the kitchen all over again. I couldn't believe that he'd even managed to hurt you, his princess. He was in the hall talking on the phone to Father Flynn when I found him. He was arranging for Mum to receive the Sacrament of the Sick. I knew she wouldn't want that and I took the phone out of his hand, and told the priest his services would not be required.'
Dana stared at him, her eyes wide with shock. 'You didn't!'
'I did! Dad was livid. He started to hurl abuse at me — it felt just like old times. I told him he was a hypocritical, evil and pathetic old man. I told him he'd managed to hurt every member of his family, even you.' Ed shook his head. 'He went berserk.'
'So what happened then?' Dana prompted when Ed stopped.
He stared into space. 'We kept roaring and shouting at each other and the next thing I knew, Mum was at the top of the stairs, screaming at us to stop. Father told her to shut up and stay out of it. And -' he swallowed and looked at Dana — 'I hit him. It was like everything happened in slow motion after that. Father fell back against the wall and Mum screamed and stepped forward. Then she was falling down the stairs. I rushed forward to catch her, but I was too late. I turned her over and I knew, instantly, that she was dead.'
'Oh my God,' Dana gasped and put her hand to her mouth.
'So you see, Dana. I killed her.'
'No!' She shook her head. 'It was an accident.'
'If I hadn't been there, it wouldn't have happened,'
Ed insisted. 'If I hadn't antagonized him, she wouldn't have come to the top of the stairs.'
'If, if, if ...' Dana shook her head impatiently. 'It was an accident.' Dana poured him more wine and pressed the glass into his hand. 'Have a drink.'
He did, and she filled her own glass and drank. 'What happened then?'
'It was like Father went on to automatic pilot. He called an ambulance, although he knew as well as I did that it was too late. And he called the priest, of course. I was a mess at this stage and he dragged me into his study and sat me down. He told me to tell anyone who asked that we were in the kitchen when we heard Mum cry out. That we rushed out to find her at the bottom of the stairs, dead. I said no, we should tell the truth. Dad said ifhe told the truth, I'd end up in jail. He said it was my fault and that if I had any decent bone in my body I'd go along with his story for Mum's sake. He said this was my opportunity to do the right thing. To make up for all the hurt I'd caused both him and my mother over the years. And he asked me what I thought it would do to you if you learned that your brother killed your mother.'
'My God, he was manipulating you even then,' Dana fumed. 'You didn't kill her, Ed! Please tell me you know that?'
He smiled slightly. 'Most days I do. But then I was a mess, Dana. I was shaking, I couldn't string two words together. I didn't know what to do or what to think. So, God help me, I did and said exactly what Dad told me to.'
They sat in silence for a while, both engrossed in their own private thoughts until finally Dana asked him the question that she had wanted to ask since the first day he'd got here. 'Why didn't you follow me to Dublin?' she asked, her voice trembling. 'Or, at least, pick up the phone?'
He sighed. 'I was in a terrible state, Dana. I did what he asked: helped with the arrangements, talked to the neighbours, acted like the perfect son. He said it was about time I did. He told me I had to be a man, and keep a grip on my emotions until the funeral was over. He said if I didn't, I might let something slip and I'd end up in a cell. And once the funeral was all over, he told me to get out and never come back.'
'
And I thought you had reconciled and put the past behind you.' Dana shook her head.
'I had to let you think that. If you realized I still hated him, you'd have talked to me and I knew I'd have ended up telling you everything. Dad had convinced me that you'd be devastated if you knew what I'd done.' He shrugged. 'So I did what he told me to do. And I hoped maybe you would find comfort in the fact that Dad and I had managed to bury the past.'
She shot him an incredulous look. 'I would only find comfort if you managed to bury him!'
'I did that too,' he reminded her. 'Eventually.'
'So why did you go back?'
'Father Flynn had taken me aside at Mum's funeral to tell me that Dad was sick too. I talked to the doctor and he confirmed that Father had prostate cancer and was refusing treatment. So I gave Father Flynn my phone number and asked him to let me know when Dad was near the end. I felt, rightly or wrongly, Mum would want one of us to be with him. Despite everything, I do believe she loved him.'
Dana nodded in agreement. 'Yes. It didn't seem to matter what he did, she wouldn't leave.'
'Oh, it mattered all right,' Ed retorted. 'But she was his wife and had promised to stay with him no matter what. And that's what she did.'
There was another lengthy silence and then Dana spoke again. 'You said you asked Father Flynn to call you when Dad got sick. But you weren't with him when he died — were you?'
Ed went over to the window and stared out into the darkness.
'No. I was with him a few days earlier. I meant to go back but he went quicker than we'd expected.' He turned to look at her. 'Why didn't you come to the funeral?'
'I couldn't go and pretend a grief I didn't feel. To be honest, I didn't trust myself not to dance on his grave.'
'I was going to come and see you then,' he admitted.
Dana sat forward on her chair, her eyes searching his face. 'Why didn't you?'
He shrugged. 'I still felt so guilty about Mum. I didn't think I'd be able to look you in the eye without blurting out the truth. And I didn't want to do that. You'd had enough pain in your life. And, by then, you were a published author.' He smiled. 'You'd become Dana De Lacey. Nice touch, by the way. Mum would be so proud that you'd taken her name.'
'I certainly couldn't use his.' Dana shivered. 'Oh, Ed. We've wasted so much time.'
'I know. If it wasn't for Gus, we might never have found each other again.'
Dana thought about her husband's role in all of this and wondered what had led him to the truth. 'Do you know why he left me?' she asked suddenly.
Ed looked at her and nodded. 'He found your letters.'
Dana froze. 'Letters?' she said faintly.
'The ones you wrote to us all and never sent. I wish you had, Dana,' he said with feeling.
'They weren't real letters,' Dana explained. 'I never intended sending them anywhere. I was supposed to destroy them. They were a part of my therapy.'
'Therapy?'
'After Mum died, I was in a bad way too,' she told him. 'Walter persuaded me to talk to someone.'
'Good for Walter,' Ed murmured.
'Dr Corcoran said I should write to you and Dad and tell you exactly how I felt. He said I didn't need to send the letters, but that the act of writing it all down would be therapeutic in itself. So I did.'
'And you wrote to someone else too,' Ed reminded her. 'Your son. Gus read it and thought you had a child stashed somewhere that you hadn't told him about. That's why he left, Dana. He couldn't believe that you'd kept such a huge secret from him.'
She stared at him. 'When did he tell you all this?'
'He contacted me soon after he left you. Walter told him where he'd find me.'
Dana nodded. Of course, Wally had been around when her Father died. He had tried to persuade her to attend the funeral — he was concerned about bad publicity — and when she refused to go, he'd packed her off to the States. Then he'd put a death notice in all the papers and issued a press release saying that, despite their estrangement, Dana was very upset to hear of the death of her father. She was currently in the US promoting her new book.
'Dana?'
She looked up. Ed was looking at her.
'Sorry. So you told Gus about the abortion,' she whispered.
'Yes. I'm sorry if I was wrong. But he was imagining all sorts of things. I thought it was better that he knew the truth.'
Dana shook her head. 'Why didn't he just ask me? Why didn't he tell me he'd found the letters? Ask me about the baby? Why would he talk to you, a total stranger, and not talk to me, his wife?'
'You'll have to ask him that, Dana. And I think you should. But, remember, if it wasn't for him, we wouldn't be here together now.'
She stared at her brother. 'So I'm supposed to be grateful to him?'
He shrugged and smiled. 'I am.'
Ed retired to bed soon after, and Dana went into her office. She stared at her screen, her fingers poised over the keys, but the words wouldn't come. Maybe there was nothing left to write. She had reached the point in her story where she was getting her life together. She had started her sessions with Dr Corcoran. She had almost finished her third novel. And Walter was in the process of negotiating a bigger, better deal for her next three books. The future was bright. Her world was complete. Her new life was established. Dana O'Carroll was dead. Long live Dana De Lacey.
And, Dana realized, that had been her mistake. She couldn't pretend the past hadn't happened. A day didn't go by that she didn't grieve for her aborted child. Her mother was always with her, and she was often haunted by the terrible things her brother had endured at the hands of their father. And if she'd told her husband, he would have listened. If she'd explained, he would have understood. If she'd told him how her heart ached for her baby, he would have held her while she cried. And, she knew with certainty, he would have made sure that she had reconciled with her brother years ago. If only she'd given Gus the chance. It was too late now, she knew. There was no going back. But, at the very least, Dana owed her husband an explanation.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The next day, Dana and Ed had lunch with Walter. She watched, fascinated, as the two men talked. There was an obvious, if conservative, attraction on both sides. Wally was fifty-two — twelve years Ed's senior — but Dana didn't think that would matter. They were both damaged people who would be sensitive to each other's background. She had thought it unbearably sad that Ed had never had a close relationship in all his adult life. It was such a waste. He had been a lovely boy and, despite everything, he'd turned into a wonderful man. It was a pity she was only just finding that out.
As the wine loosened their tongues and inhibitions, Dana and Ed told Walter some of their story.
'It's very sad,' he said. 'And, forgive me, but I still think you should publish it. The book would fly out of the shops.'
Dana shot her brother a nervous look and noted the lack of surprise on his face. 'Ed?'
'Yes?'
'You knew I was writing my biography, didn't you?' she exclaimed. 'Did Judy tell you?'
'Of course not. I'm sorry, Dana, but I've been reading it,' Ed admitted.
'What?' Dana dropped her knife and fork with a clatter.
'I'm sorry,' he said again. 'But I discovered it by accident. And when you wouldn't talk to me, I felt it was the only way I'd find out what was going on in your head.'
'I can't believe this,' Dana mumbled.
'He only did it because he cares,' Walter pointed out.
'I know that.' She shot her brother an anxious look. So, what did you think?'
'I thought it was very moving and it made me realize that leaving probably wasn't for the best after all.'
She shook her head. 'No, Ed. Now I know the full extent of what Dad put you through, I'm glad you left. And it probably would have been better if you hadn't come back.'
'Enough of this', Ed said. 'There's no point in either of us beating ourselves up. We need to put the past behind us and be glad that we've found each other ag
ain.'
'But publishing the truth might help too,' Wally interjected.
'Walter.' Dana glared.
He shrugged, unrepentant. 'Once an agent, always an agent.'
'It is quite a read,' Ed acknowledged. 'And it's a shame to see all your hard work go to waste.'
'It wasn't wasted,' Dana assured him. 'It's helped me enormously. And I think it will help Gus too.'
Ed looked at her. 'You're going to let him read it?'
She nodded. 'It's only fair.'
'I'm glad.'
'Of course, you could turn it into a novel,' Walter mused. 'If you change a few details here and there, no one would be any the wiser.'
'Wally, shut up and drink your wine,' Dana said, smiling.
Her phone rang and she excused herself when she saw the name that flashed up. 'Sorry, I should take this.'
'Lover boy,' Ed told Walter. 'He's always calling.'
Dana rolled her eyes and walked out of the restaurant. 'Hi, Ryan.'
'Hi, Dana. How are you?'
She sighed as she thought of all the events of the last forty-eight hours. 'Tired.'
'Does that mean I can't take you out tonight?'
'You're home?'
'Just landed. I've missed you.'
Dana closed her eyes at the tenderness in his voice. 'Was it a good trip?'
'You were supposed to say, "I've missed you too."'
She groaned inwardly. 'Of course I have.'
'So, have dinner with me.'
'Could we make it tomorrow evening instead?' Dana asked. 'It's just that I've had a hectic few days and tomorrow morning I'm going to the hospital to get the cast off.'
'Excellent. We can celebrate. Shall we say eight?'
'Perfect.'
'Are you okay, Dana?'
'Yes,' she reassured him. 'Like I said, I'm just tired.'
'I hope you haven't been out gallivanting with other men,' he said lightly.
'No, I've just had lots of visitors. I'll fill you in when I see you.'
'I'll look forward to it. Till tomorrow.'
'Bye, Ryan.'
Dana turned to go back into the restaurant, but stopped when she caught sight of Wally and Ed through the window. Their heads were close together and they were completely engrossed. She knew that she was probably the topic of conversation, but she didn't mind. It was nice to see these two wonderful men enjoying each other's company. It was probably too much to hope that it would grow into anything more. Living in two different countries wasn't an ideal way to start a new romance. But it would be nice even if they were just to become friends. Dana could foresee lots more lunches and dinners in the future, and the thought warmed her heart. It would be like being part of a proper family. She turned and strolled down the street. There was no harm giving them a little more time alone. And she needed some of that too. There was so much to take on board.
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