I told her I didn’t have much credit and promised to call her back soon, then I hung up and looked at my friends. ‘What should we do?’
‘Go there of course,’ Jack said, ‘It’s only Bondi.’
‘We have no idea who she is! What if she’s some crazy old psycho?’
‘She sounds like a sweet little old lady to me,’ Jack said.
‘And we’ll be with you,’ Hilary added.
Jack typed the Bondi address into his GPS. ‘We could be there in about half an hour,’ he told us, when the directions had been calculated. ‘And all your questions will be answered.’
I seriously doubted that, but I said, ‘Fine, we’ll go, but if she comes at us with an axe, I’m hiding behind you.’
‘Well I am the man aren’t I?’
Hilary and I both made scoffing noises, then I called Ruby back and told her we were on our way.
Given the strangeness of my dreams I’d kind of suspected that discovering the identity of my birth parents wouldn’t be as simple as just going to meet Lena Molloy to find out they’d left me as a newborn because they were too young, or too sick, or too poor. I hadn’t been surprised she’d been unable to tell me that my parents either wanted to know me or didn’t want to know me. And the weirdness of the meeting itself had only reinforced my suspicions. Who goes to some scungy little office to get information about their adoption? And who, once there, is given a secret envelope containing the address of some old lady? The whole thing was bizarre and there were so many questions—first whirling in my head all alone and then bouncing around the car with Jack and Hilary. The three of us picked every aspect of the meeting with Lena apart. What did my adoption have to do with her export business? Why hadn’t my information been kept at the government adoption agency? Why did Lena seem to be suffering memory loss when it came to answering questions? Why had I to prove my identity with my birthmark? (This got Jack distracted for a little while.) What did this old lady have to do with it and exactly what kind of paper was her name and address written on? And who had been to Lena looking for information about my adoption?
‘That’s what worries me most,’ I said, ‘the fact that someone has been looking for me. I mean why would anyone want to find me?’
‘Well, someone did,’ Jack said, ‘and judging by the way you had to identify yourself, someone else didn’t want them to.’
I shuddered as more icy fingers walked up and down my body. I’d stepped into a whole world of intrigue and I didn’t like it one little bit. ‘I feel really sick,’ I moaned.
Jack reached across me into the glove box, and took out a paper bag and handed it to me.
‘It might have been your parents they were searching for,’ Hilary said gently, giving my shoulder a pat over the back of the car seat. ‘Try not to worry.’
But I only started to worry more because then I began to wonder what my birth parents might be involved in to make someone want to find them, and by association, me. That led to a whole new world full of speculation. Crime gangs, drug syndicates, murder and lifetime jail sentences all popped up in the conversation more than once. I clutched the vomit bag to me, shivering and shaking.
I was a mess by the time we pulled up out the front of Ruby Dixon’s house, felt too nauseated to be in any way excited about what I might discover. The house was an old double-brick with a closed-in veranda and stained glass in the windows and doors. The sight of it calmed me as we walked down the path because it reminded me of the house my grandparents had built as newlyweds and lived in their whole married lives. I wondered if Ruby had a similar story.
We only had to knock once and the door opened. Ruby had been waiting. She was old, in her late eighties at least, but her blue eyes were kind and bright in her wrinkled face and put me at ease immediately.
‘Oh my dear, it’s like seeing your mother again,’ she said, her hand fluttering to her chest. ‘But come in, I’ve made us a nice pot of tea.’
‘You know my mother?’ I asked as she led us through the kitchen and into a small dining room—dark from the drawn curtains. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust but when they had, I felt like I’d stepped back in time. There was a smoke-stained fireplace in one wall and instantly I could picture Christmas stockings strung along the top of it. On one side of the room was a dark timber sideboard and in the centre was the matching dining setting. It was topped with a tablecloth of white lace, upon which sat a delicate jewellery box and a bone china tea set. The table was set with sandwiches and tantalising little cupcakes decorated with soft pink frosting and tiny flowers. As usual my mouth began to water as I felt a stab of irritation that I wouldn’t be able to eat any of it.
‘I don’t know your mother but I have met her,’ Ruby said as she took her place at the table. She told us all to make ourselves comfortable before asking Jack if he would mind pouring the tea, adding that the teapot was so awfully heavy. Then she looked across to me and said, ‘How old are you, dear? I do lose track of time these days.’
‘Seventeen.’
‘Oh good, there’s still time.’
I felt like I was in the middle of a riddle. ‘I’m confused—what do you know about me, Ruby? Why was I given your name and number?’
‘Of course you are, dear, and if you don’t mind that I speak in front of your friends, I’ll start from the beginning, and tell you everything I know.’
There was something so calming about her that all things frightening eased from my mind. I let out a long sigh and for the first time that day, relaxed. I said, ‘That would be really great, Ruby.’
She put down her cup and began. ‘You were just a few days old when your parents arrived at my door. Such a beautiful couple. Your mother was quite lovely and your father, dear me, such a handsome man.’ Ruby blushed, proving that age doesn’t extinguish the appreciation of a hot guy. ‘They were young—can’t have been much more than nineteen or twenty. I don’t know why they chose me.’ Ruby looked thoughtful for a moment, like she’d wondered this many times. ‘Maybe it was because I was alone or maybe they just liked the look of me. I really don’t know . . . Anyway, no matter. They were terribly desperate. Your mother was all wrapped up in a blanket. She was very distressed, poor dear—still recovering from your birth I suspect . . . Your father held her up with one arm. In his other he held you, sleeping soundly. Your mother was too upset to speak but your father asked me to give you to the lady you got my information from. I was to leave the pink envelope with my details inside but give her no information regarding how you came into my care. He said to tell her that you arrived on my doorstep with nothing but the little blanket you were wrapped in. Oh, and I was to speak to no one about you, and plead ignorance if questioned . . . that all of your lives depended on it.’
I remained quiet as I endeavoured to absorb this overwhelming information.
‘They left something for you,’ Ruby continued after a moment, dragging me from my thoughts as she gestured to the jewellery box in the centre of the table. I reached for it and pulled it close, then inserted the key she took from her cardigan pocket. The lid opened with a gentle click. A small envelope caught my attention. It was of the same pale pink paper as Lena’s, the letter within written in sweeping handwriting. I read it aloud so everyone could hear.
Our dearest daughter,
It is with sorrow we leave you today in the care of others. It is our most heartfelt wish that we could be with you, to love and nurture you and watch you grow, but alas, this is an impossible fantasy. This place will not be easy for you and for this we are sorry. Our hearts break but, for your safety, there is no other way. We must leave you now but will find some way to return for you before you reach eighteen. Until then, be strong and brave, our darling girl, the road ahead is fraught with danger. We love you forever.
Your devoted parents,
Tobias and Finelle
As I put the letter down, my heart tore. I never thought my past would matter, but the sense of loss was overwhelming. Suddenly
I wanted to know my parents more than I’d ever wanted anything. My eyes filled with tears that quickly started to leak onto my cheeks. Jack reached across the table and covered my hand with his. I managed to pull myself together enough to retrieve the other item from the box—a gold bangle from which dangled a locket with three words engraved into the front: ‘Our Beloved Daughter’. I opened it. On one side was a photo of a sleeping newborn, on the other a man and woman not much older than me. I looked inside the flat edge of the bangle and my breath caught in my throat. Engraved there was my birth date—the twentieth of February—and my name—Marla.
After sliding the bangle onto my wrist, I put Ruby’s details back into the box with my parents’ letter and closed the lid.
We sat in silence for a long time before Jack finally broke it. ‘We should probably get going. It’s getting late.’
‘Call me, won’t you, Marla, if I can be of any use,’ Ruby said as she rose to see us to the door. ‘It’s been so nice to meet you. Give my love to your parents when you finally meet with them.’
‘I will, and thank you,’ I said, clutching the box to me. The idea of meeting my birth parents was wonderful, but I didn’t know how it would be possible. I had no greater clue how I might find them than I did before I came. I pushed the thought away. It was too depressing and I just couldn’t think about it today, there didn’t seem enough room in my head.
‘That was enlightening,’ Jack said as I climbed into the car beside him.
‘Not really,’ Hilary said, from the back seat. ‘There are so many questions.’
‘I’m very confused,’ I admitted. ‘But at least I know my parents didn’t want to give me away. I’ve always wondered about that—and thought the worst.’ Fresh tears welled in my eyes, threatening to spill, but I sucked them up. According to Tobias and Finelle, there was danger ahead and the clock was ticking.
CHAPTER THREE
‘You missed dinner, love,’ Dad said when I arrived home. For once Mum made no comment about my lateness, just stayed quiet as Dad took my dinner from the fridge and put it on the stove before joining me at the table and asking about my day.
I told my parents everything while my food was heating. When I came to the part about my birth parents leaving a jewellery box for me, I took it from my bag and placed it in the middle of the table.
Mum, who’d been making her way through a pile of ironing and doing a bad job of pretending not to be too interested, set the iron down and looked up. ‘A jewellery box?’ she asked as Dad got up to get my dinner.
‘Uh-huh.’
Dad returned with my meal and placed it before me before reclaiming his seat and pulling the box to him. He examined it from every angle, brushed his fingers over the stones embedded in the lid and spent a long moment looking at the painted image in the middle. ‘It’s beautiful,’ he said finally. ‘You’d think these stones were gems if they weren’t so big . . . I wonder what kind of wood it’s made from.’
Mum left her ironing to come look. ‘It’s lovely,’ she said, touching one of the stones. ‘Is there anything inside?’
I took the key from my pocket, unlocked the box and handed the letter to my mother. Dad leaned in close and together my parents read the letter in silence.
‘This is very strange,’ Mum said quietly when she was finished.
‘I know. And do you remember the other night I asked if the name Marla meant anything to you?’ My parents nodded. ‘Well, that’s my name—my original name. I dreamt it and I found out today it’s true.’ I shook my head at the impossibility of it, barely believing myself.
I took the bangle off and handed it to my mother, pointing out the engraving. She looked at it for a long time then passed it to my father. ‘We’ve been celebrating your birthday on the wrong day,’ she whispered. Until now, my birthday had always been on the fifteenth of February.
She sounded so distressed, so unlike my mother. I hurried to reassure her. ‘It doesn’t matter, Mum. I was abandoned. How could anyone know my birth date for sure? Look at the locket, there’s photos inside.’
My father opened the locket and my parents peered inside.
‘You were so brand new,’ my mother said, touching the image. ‘I wouldn’t even know it was you . . . and your parents are so beautiful and young.’ My mother’s face grew pale. ‘They would be young even now.’
‘What difference does that make?’ I said. She and Dad had both been in their forties by the time they adopted me and being an older mother had always bothered Mum.
‘There must have been a good reason they gave you up,’ Dad said. ‘Judging by that letter, you obviously meant the world to them.’ I knew it to be true and felt warm at the thought of it. ‘You look like her. This could almost be a photo of you.’
I nodded in agreement. ‘Just take away my eczema.’
‘I can see the father too,’ Mum said quietly.
‘Do you have an address for them?’ Dad asked.
‘I have no idea how to find them.’ I shook my head slowly, feeling the utter hopelessness of it. Knowing I couldn’t reach them made me want them all the more.
‘If you’re meant to know them, you will know them,’ Dad said simply. But there was nothing simple about the expression on his face—or Mum’s. My parents felt threatened.
I said, ‘Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway.’
But it did matter. It mattered a lot.
I went to bed early. I knew Leif would be in my dreams tonight and I couldn’t wait to see him. Take me to heaven, I thought, smiling to myself and calling his name in my mind as I closed my eyes, and in a few short minutes I was standing in the forest. He was sprawled by the river in a patch of sunlight, hands tucked behind his head and one foot resting on his bent knee. He was wearing his usual outfit, hip-hugging jeans and nothing else, and was as mouth-watering as ever. His lips curved into a wide smile as he watched me appear.
‘Marla, you look delightful,’ he said, one eyebrow shooting up. I barely noticed he was speaking that other language; it felt as familiar to me as my own. He stayed where he was for a moment, looking up at me with appreciative eyes. I’d come to realise that whatever I wore to bed was what I would be wearing when I arrived in my alternate world. So tonight I’d worn my cutest nightie, a slip of silky blue. There was so much I wanted to say, but of course I was too mesmerised to speak. ‘You’re glad to see me,’ he said, standing finally.
I nodded—there was no denying it.
‘I feel it here.’ He took my hand and placed it over his heart. ‘You’re making my pulse quicken.’ If I was making his pulse quicken he was making mine fly, and at the sensation of his hand pressing mine to his heavenly pecs it flew faster still. He seemed to know because his smile widened as he said, ‘Come, Marla, before your heart bursts through your chest.’ He kept my hand and led me to a fallen tree, sat on the trunk and brought me down beside him. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked after a moment.
I hardly knew—my thoughts were too scattered. ‘Do you ever wear a shirt?’ I answered and instantly wished I could take the words back. He laughed, deep and melodic. If he didn’t know what was on my mind before, he sure did now.
‘Occasionally, it’s just more convenient not to.’ I had no idea why that should be so, but I wasn’t about to ask another embarrassing question. ‘You must feel bewildered, Marla—ask me anything, and I will answer if I can.’
I shook my head slowly. ‘I don’t know where to start.’
‘You know who you are now?’
‘I know I was born Marla, but I can’t say I know who I am, and I know the names of my parents, but I don’t know who they are either—or how to find them.’ I felt suddenly overwhelmed. ‘I don’t even know if they’re alive . . . ’
When he realised I couldn’t go on Leif said, ‘I have been searching for information, but so far have discovered nothing. You are a mystery. But please know I will continue to seek answers. We cannot lose what is meant to be.’ His eyes, dark and intense, kept
mine.
‘I’m lost already; I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
He sighed. ‘You can feel the connection between us, can you not?’
‘Oh, I can,’ I replied. I wanted nothing more than to touch him again, make that connection physical. It was an effort not to. ‘But why?’
‘Our kind believes that when a male child is born, a part of his soul is released to seek his perfect mate. When that piece of him finds and connects with her, she is conceived and they are as one. Even their hearts beat together. You and I share that soul connection, Marla—you are my betrothed. I am yours; you are mine.’
That whole thing with the racing pulse suddenly made sense. In my excitement I had literally caused his heart rate to increase! I didn’t even have time to feel embarrassed at the thought because he was watching me with love, desire and adoration in his eyes. He was running his hand down my arm, bringing shivers to my skin and causing me to make his pulse speed up all over again. I had to touch him—could resist no longer. I reached for him and pressed my fingers to his face, felt his heat come into me. He covered my hand with his and bent to kiss my forehead, allowing his lips to linger for a moment before brushing my mouth with his. Sighing, I leaned close to catch the kiss as I felt him pull away.
‘When are you eighteen, Marla?’
‘I only just turned seventeen five weeks ago. Well, I thought it was five weeks ago, it’s actually closer to four.’
‘Still, we don’t have much time.’
There was that whole thing with my age again.
‘How old are you?’ I asked, guessing him to be in his early twenties.
‘I have just turned nineteen. When I could not find you after I turned eighteen, I feared the worst . . . ’
‘Eighteen is important?’
‘Eighteen is when we reach our immortality.’
‘You’re immortal!’ Now I knew, despite how real this felt, that I was definitely dreaming.
‘There is so much you don’t know,’ he murmured. ‘When we—’ he began.
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