He purses his lips. “You could ask Caleb if you could use his house.” He tips his head at me.
“You mean pretend it’s mine?”
He shrugs.
I chew my bottom lip, and eventually shake my head. “I need to start how I mean to go on. I don’t want to begin with a lie. You were right—this is me, and I’m not going to hide who I am.”
His smile tells me that he hoped I’d say that. “We’ll have morning tea on the deck,” he says. “The forecast says it’s going to be dry. We’ll go to the supermarket this afternoon and get some nice nibbles, and I’ll make the drinks so you don’t have to worry about spilling it all over them.”
That makes me laugh. “Okay. You understand me so well.”
He cups my face, brushing my cheek with his thumb, and the look in his eyes tells me that he’s surprised he understands me. I think this whole relationship has surprised him. I can’t explain to him how I felt when he said he’d realized that he wasn’t in love with Teddi. In spite of him not being married, I thought he belonged to someone else, like Alastair, but he doesn’t. He’s all mine, and that’s a Christmas present I’m not going to throw away anytime soon.
*
The next morning, I await the arrival of ten o’clock with growing nerves. I decided yesterday that I wanted to bake something, and Rich took me to the supermarket for the ingredients, and this morning helped me grate the lemons for the citrus muffins and ate half the chocolate chips for the chocolate muffins while he sat at the end of the kitchen counter and watched me mix and bake in my tiny oven.
He’s hardly left my side—which I know would be difficult anyway in such a small house—but it’s hard to explain how great it’s been having him here, and how much of a difference it’s made to me. He has a wonderful way of calming me, and each time I’ve started to panic and feel overwhelmed by the situation, he’s given me a hug and told me everything’s going to be okay. I know this is a platitude, which I don’t normally like, but in this case I find it comforting, and it’s nice to have his support.
Now the muffins are done and the kettle has boiled, the big hand of the clock is at five minutes past ten, and everything’s ready. My mouth has gone dry again, and even though I know she’s coming up from Whangarei, I begin to worry that she’s changed her mind and won’t turn up.
Before I’m able to voice my fears, though, I hear a car draw up on the other side of the fence.
Caleb and Emma met Rich yesterday, and I told them that Lara was coming. Caleb was shocked to realize that the young woman he spoke to just before New Year was my daughter. They’re both eager to talk to her, but they’re working today, and I’m relieved by that. If this goes well, there will be plenty of time for them to meet properly in the future.
Rich takes my hand, and we walk around the little house and wait as we hear the car door slam, and then footsteps approaching the gate.
They come through, and Lara sees me immediately and waves. I wave back, my heart hammering. She looks lovely today—she’s in a short blue skirt and a silvery-gray vest, her hair braided so it falls over one shoulder. I wear mine like that sometimes, and it warms me through.
At her side is a young man of around her own age, with short dark hair and a friendly face. He’s holding Lara’s hand, which I like, and he smiles too as they approach.
“Hello again,” I say. “I’m so glad you came.” I address the young man. “You must be Ben. I’m Jess, and this is Rich.” He shakes hands with me, then with Rich.
“It’s lovely to meet you,” Ben says politely.
I try to resist wiping my sweaty palms on my dress. “Come around the back. I thought we’d sit outside as it’s warm. And also because my living room’s the size of a postage stamp.”
The two of them laugh. “It’s a lovely view though,” Lara says, gesturing at the valley opposite, the fields scattered with sheep, the egg-box-shaped hills. “And oh, what a lovely garden.”
I smile and lead them to the table on the deck. We’ve covered it with a cheap tablecloth we found in the supermarket, and Rich picked some pohutukawa flowers off the trees and put them in a bowl with some of my glittery pebbles, making a pretty centerpiece between the muffins.
Rich asks them what they’d like to drink, then goes inside to make coffee while the three of us sit.
“Do you mind me being here?” Ben asks, somewhat awkwardly. “Lara wanted me to come, but if you like I can go for a walk or something.”
“Not at all,” I tell him. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you both. Help yourself to a muffin, by the way. We baked them this morning.”
Both of them choose one, and I do the same because it’s something to do with my hands. Ben tucks into his straight away, but both Lara and I put ours on a plate and then study each other.
“I can’t believe this,” Lara says. “I can’t believe I’m actually here.”
“Me neither.” I swallow to get rid of my dry mouth. My heart is racing, and I suspect hers is too.
“I look like you,” she says.
“Yes,” I reply softly. “I think you do.” I’d show her some photos of myself at her age, but I don’t have any. By then I was living on the street, and taking selfies wasn’t high on my list of priorities.
“I’m not quite sure what to say.” She looks at Ben, then back at me. “All the way here, I’ve been trying to think of questions to ask you, but now I feel tongue-tied.” She laughs sheepishly and smooths a stray strand of hair off her forehead.
“Why don’t you start by telling me a bit about yourself and Max?” I suggest.
“Okay. Well, um, we’re twenty, but I guess you know that. I’m at university in Auckland—I’m taking a communications course—I want to work in TV or film. I want to be a news broadcaster.” She laughs.
“She’s brilliant at politics,” Ben says. “She’s knows everything that’s going on everywhere in the world.”
“Well you certainly didn’t get that from me,” I say wryly.
“That’s my Dad,” Lara says. “He’s a lawyer and he loves politics.”
I nod. My heart is still racing. Rich comes out carrying a tray with our coffees and places it on the table, then sits beside me. We all pour milk and add sugar.
“What about you, Ben?” I ask. “Are you at Auckland too?”
“Yes. We’re on some of the same courses. We met there.”
“Is Max there too?”
Lara sips her coffee, then shakes her head. “No, he’s not been to uni yet. He told Mum and Dad that he wanted to do his OE first.” The famous Kiwi Overseas Experience. “But he went away for a year and loved it so much that he’s travelling again this year. He’s a bit of a rebel. He had a tough time at school, and got into trouble at times. He might go back to uni eventually, but he needs some time out, you know? He’s an explorer. He wants to see the world. He’s been working as a barman so he can pretty much get work wherever he goes. He’s fit as—he wants to climb mountains and trek through jungles. We’re very different.” She smiles.
“But you stayed together,” I say softly.
“Yes, they wanted to keep us together when we were adopted, and my parents were happy to have twins.”
“They sound like nice people.”
“They are. I mean we clash occasionally—doesn’t everyone? We argue. But we’re happy. We’ve had a good upbringing, so you don’t have to worry about that.”
I meet Lara’s eyes, shocked at her words—that even at her age, she understands how I’ve worried over the years that they went to a terrible home and were unhappy. “I’m glad,” I whisper. I’m close to tears, but I don’t want to bawl in front of them.
“Can I have another muffin?” Ben asks.
“Of course.” Rich pushes the plate toward him, and Lara starts eating hers. I taste a bit of mine—they’re lovely and moist and the lemon is really tart—delicious. Thank goodness I did something right.
“How long have you two been going out?” Ric
h asks them.
“One year and five days,” Ben says, and she laughs. “I’ve asked her to marry me,” he tells me. “But she told me we have to wait until we’re twenty-one.”
My eyebrows rise. Lara blushes and nudges him. “You’re too young. Eventually you’ll realize how ordinary I am and you’ll wish you hadn’t said anything.”
“I won’t—I’ll wait,” he says cheerfully. And I can see that he will. He adores her—it’s written all over his face.
“Can I ask you some questions?” Lara asks.
I nod and sip my coffee, trying to hide the fact that my spine has stiffened. My cheeks feel hot, and I shift a little so I’m under the umbrella that’s shading most of the table.
Rich takes my other hand in his as if he can feel my sudden tension. I’m so glad he’s here. I’ve had a few boyfriends over the years, and of course there was Alastair, but I’ve not had this feeling of support for a long time, if ever, as if Rich is ready to catch me when I fall.
I hope I don’t fall. I just have to answer honestly and hope that Lara is compassionate enough to understand why I’ve made the choices I have.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rich
I feel for Jess at this point. She’s coped well so far, and she looks calm and relaxed, even though I know she must be panicking inside. Her body has stiffened at Lara’s question, and her fingers have tightened on mine.
Part of me thinks that maybe I should leave the table, ask Ben if he’d like to go for a walk or something, to leave the girls alone. But I don’t—not yet. I feel that Jess wants me there, and besides, I’m curious.
“Do you mind me asking how old you are?” Lara says.
“Of course not,” Jess replies. “I’m thirty-five.”
Lara calculates in her head. “So you were fifteen when you had me.”
“Yes.” Jess’s fingers loosen on mine, and I know she’s doing the mental relaxation technique she does when she feels anxious, breathing deeply, trying force the tension out of her body. “I was very young. I had a strict upbringing. My parents were very religious, fanatical even. In my early teens, when other girls were experimenting with makeup and fashion and starting to be interested in boys, I had a lecture every evening over dinner. My father would read a passage from the Bible, and then he would talk to us about how sinful we were.”
Her tone is flat—she’s hiding her real emotion, her resentment, anger, maybe even hatred of her parents. She’s obviously done her best over the years to conquer these, but like a bad complexion beneath a thin layer of makeup, eventually they begin to show through.
“I wouldn’t call myself rebellious,” Jess continues. “I’m quite a conformist in many ways. I never park on a double yellow line.” She gives a wry laugh. “But as the years went by, I began to resent deeply the way they made me feel. At school, I made a friend who was the complete opposite to me—her parents didn’t seem to care who she was with or where she went. She fascinated me because she was so different to me, and it wasn’t long before I was sneaking out at night to be with her. We went to parties, started experimenting with drink and drugs and, eventually, boys. And then I got pregnant.”
She pauses for a moment and sips her coffee. We’re a long way from the main road, and I can’t hear any traffic, only birdsong from the fantails in the lemon trees. I want to help Jess—I want to wipe away all the angst and guilt and shame she’s feeling, but unfortunately I can’t. We might try to file our memories away in a dusty room at the back of our minds, but they’re always there, ready to be extracted and reviewed at the most inopportune time.
“I’m not proud of it,” Jess says. “I was very young and foolish. I’m embarrassed to say it was a mistake because that sounds like you weren’t wanted, but it wasn’t planned. And I was absolutely terrified of my father. I had to tell them, of course, and it was even worse than I imagined. He ranted and raged and did everything but physically hit me.
“I left school and they refused to let me out of the house, so I began to retreat into a world inside my head. I thought about you a lot and found comfort in the thought of having a baby, someone of my own I could love the way I wanted, and who’d love me back. But of course that was never going to happen. First I found out I was having twins. And then my parents told me they were going to put the babies up for adoption when they were born.”
Lara is leaning on the table, her hand covering her mouth. I suspect she’s gripping Ben’s hand beneath the table. Her eyes show pain, but there’s no horror there. She’s as compassionate as her mother—her birth mother—and suddenly I know that everything’s going to be all right.
Jess is still talking, though. “We had terrible rows about it. I cried, sulked, screamed, begged, but they wouldn’t listen. I think the stress of it all was what eventually forced me into having a C-section, and you were delivered early. You were both so tiny—I saw you briefly before they whisked you away. I wasn’t allowed to hold you. I never saw you again.”
Tears are now running down Lara’s cheeks. “Oh Jesus,” she says.
Jess watches her, and her brow wrinkles. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I just need you to understand why I did what I did.”
“It’s okay.” Lara accepts a serviette from Ben and wipes beneath her eyes. “I want to know. What happened to you after we were born?”
“It’s a long story, and it’s not a nice one. I had severe antenatal depression. I ran away from home and went to Auckland. I lived on the streets for a few years. It was a very dark time for me, and there were times I didn’t think I’d make it. I… um… I actually went to prison for six months for theft.” Her cheeks turn scarlet—she’s so embarrassed by that admission. But I’m so proud of her for saying it.
“Eventually I met a woman who helped me—she was more like a mother to me than my own had been. She helped me to understand that I had nothing to feel guilty or ashamed about. She helped me come to terms with what had happened, and finally move on. I got back in touch with my brother, Caleb, and when Maria—that’s the woman who helped me—eventually moved away, Caleb suggested I move in here. I’ll get my own place one day, I hope, but actually it’s nice to be near him.”
Lara nods, and for a short while we sit in silence, processing our thoughts.
“What do you do?” Lara asks eventually. “For a living, I mean?”
“Nothing as amazing as you guys,” Jess replies. It’s the first time she’s put herself down though, and I raise my eyebrows at her. She looks down for a moment, then back at her daughter. “I’ve done lots of waitressing and shop work, and the occasional piece of office work. Rich is trying to talk me into selling my artwork, though. I’ve yet to be convinced.”
“You’re an artist?” Lara’s face lights up. “Can I see some of your work?”
Jess blushes. “Of course. I’ll get my sketchpad.” She retrieves it from the living room and brings it back. “These are my most recent ones.”
Lara flips it open and starts leafing through. I watch her, and I see her smile fade and a frown appear on her face.
“They’re very unusual,” Ben says, looking over her shoulder.
Lara stares at the experimental painting Jess did of me on the beach. It looks like she was staring through a kaleidoscope—the sky behind me is filled with shapes of different colors, as if a child had thrown a handful of blocks in the air. At the time, we were listening to Jimi Hendrix, and she said this is what the music made her see.
“Oh my God.” Lara lifts her gaze to Jess. “You have synesthesia.”
“Yes… How did…”
“I have it. We both have it—Max too. I always wondered if it was something we got from one of our birth parents.” She stares at the painting again. “This is amazing.”
I look at Jess and see tears in her eyes. It’s a connection with her children that they don’t have with their adoptive parents, and while in itself it doesn’t mean anything, I know that to her it must feel as if
there’s one thing she has of them that she can keep to herself.
“Can I take one of these to show Max?” Lara asks.
“Of course.” Jess is struggling to contain her emotion. “Whichever one you like.”
Lara chooses the one of me on the beach. I tell her, “We were listening to Jimi Hendrix at the time,” and she laughs.
She puts the painting on the table and sits forward, linking her hands. “I have to ask,” she says. “Can you tell me about my father?”
At that point, I feel that they should have some privacy, because I wouldn’t want Jess to feel awkward talking about this in front of me. “Ben,” I say, “are you into gaming at all? Jess has a PS3 if you want to team up on something.”
Ben’s gaze flicks to the girls, but he says, “Sure,” and the two of us rise and go inside.
I turn on the TV and the PlayStation. “Ooh,” Ben says, sorting through the disks. “Dark Robot. Have you played this?”
I laugh. “Yeah. Once or twice.” I insert the disk, and the two of us sit on her small sofa. Within minutes, we’re deep into enemy territory, trying to save the world.
Outside, I can hear Jess and Lara talking. Snippets of their conversation filter through to us. Jess tells her daughter about the boy she met at a party. He was two years older than her, and all she knows about him is his first name, Edward, or Eddie. He talked her into going upstairs with him, and, curious about what it was all about, she had sex with him. After the party, she never saw him again, and she refused to tell her parents who the father was. Jess apologizes to Lara for not being able to tell her any more than that. And Lara tells her it’s okay.
While the girls talk, Ben and I play for about forty-five minutes, and then we finish a scenario and decide to call it quits.
“You’ve played this before,” he tells me wryly, as we make our way back outside.
“Oh jeez, you haven’t been playing Dark Robot?” Jess rolls her eyes. “He invented it,” she explains to them. “Rich owns Katoa, and he’s a game designer.”
My New Year Fling: A Sexy Christmas Billionaire Romance (Love Comes Later Book 2) Page 18