Clean Slate

by Andrea Bramhall

  “Where’s Tristan?”

  “Basketball practice.” Erin sipped her drink and crossed her legs, pulling at her skirt as it rode up. Morgan’s eyes seemed glued to her thighs, and the familiar tingles of desire stirred in Erin’s belly. No. I will not go there. She shifted in her seat.

  “Oh right.” Morgan started to fidget, her leg bouncing.

  “You wanted to talk to me.”

  “Oh, erm, yeah.” Morgan licked her lips. “I wanted…see I’ve been wondering…I…”

  It was painful to watch. Morgan’s vulnerability hung about her like a cloak. “Morgan, if you don’t say what’s on your mind, I can’t help.”

  “What happened between us? When I left—what happened?”

  She gasped and put her cup down, tucking her hair behind her ear before she sat back. Erin felt like she’d been punched in the gut.

  “Why does it matter?” She twisted her ring around her finger while she waited.

  “It’s important.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  “Because I don’t understand.”

  “Like I told you, neither do I. So how do you expect me to explain it?”

  Morgan got up from her chair and sat next to Erin. “Please, just tell me what happened.”

  Erin rubbed her hand over her face and sighed. “We had an argument. You’d been in a funny mood for a few weeks. You wouldn’t talk to me, you were sulking about something, but—anyway, I told you to smile and at least pretend you were happy to be spending time with us. To pretend that we weren’t making you miserable.” She shook her head, willing away the tears. “I’ve played that conversation over in my head so many times.”

  She remembered the anguish and the sorrow. The loss, the sharp sting of disappointment, and guilt had hollowed out her heart leaving nothing inside but the empty chasm that Morgan had once filled.

  “I—”

  She waved her hand for Morgan to be quiet. “When I said that, it was like a red rag to a bull or something. You just flew off the handle. Said you couldn’t stand to make us all miserable, that we deserved better than that. Better than you. No matter what I said—it doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done.”

  Morgan took hold of her hand. “When was this?”

  The supple skin against her own made her flesh tingle. She wanted to squeeze her fingers to make sure she was real. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. I think it might.”

  Erin closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the sofa, wishing the conversation were over, but she didn’t have the heart to pull her hand away. “Tenth of July.”

  “And you said I was in a strange mood for a few weeks before that?”

  “Yes.”

  Morgan reached into her pocket and pulled out a slightly crumpled envelope. “This was in that bag of stuff you gave me from the hospital.”

  Erin glanced at it. “What is it?”

  “A letter.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “I can see that. What does it say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Erin frowned. “Then why are you showing it to me?”

  “Look at the date.”

  Erin took the envelope from Morgan’s shaking fingers. The prison stamp caught her eye first and she glanced at Morgan’s face. She noted for the first time how pale and drawn she looked; the dark circles under her eyes were deeper than she’d ever seen them.

  “Your father?”

  Morgan grimaced. “I presume so.”

  Erin looked back at the envelope, trying to ignore the deep-set worry lines marring Morgan’s forehead. The red ink stood out at the center, thirteenth of June.

  Three weeks before she left.

  “You think it was all about this?”

  “I—yes, I think so.”

  “So why don’t you open it and see what it was all about?” Anger welled in her chest. She’s come here looking for the answers she held in her own hands? Dragging up all the pain and the guilt that I’ve carried since then.

  “All I know about my father is that he killed my mum, and now he’s in prison. I don’t want to know any more than that.”

  Erin frowned. “Hiding from it all doesn’t change it.”

  “I know that. But it might change me.”

  She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

  Morgan’s leg bounced again. “The old Morgan knew everything that happened, she lived it, and survived it as best she could, but it scarred her. Right?”

  Erin nodded.

  “I don’t have those scars. I don’t remember any of that stuff.”

  “You don’t remember the children, but you said you still feel that you love them. You can’t have it both ways, Morgan.”

  “I don’t remember them. And maybe it’s about choosing to let myself love them, rather than remembering the specific emotion. I don’t know. I just know that I love the bones of those kids and I will do anything to protect them, to love them, and to be there for them. Any way they want me. The more I get to know them, the more I love them. But I’m choosing not to know anything about him. I feel angry toward him, I feel hurt, I’m grieving for my mum. But I’m not affected by it the same way that she was. The old Morgan.”

  “You talk about yourself like you’re two different people.”

  “That’s how I feel.” Morgan looked down at the floor. “She lived a life I never did.”

  Erin felt her heart clutch. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

  Morgan laughed sadly. “Both.” She leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees. “Maybe the price for losing the bad memories has been far too high.”

  Erin felt like she was falling when Morgan’s gaze met hers. She wanted to run her fingers down her face and feel her skin. She longed to wrap her arms around Morgan and feel the warmth of her, the musky scent of leather that was like coming home. All the things she could no longer have.

  “If you’re choosing not to know about him, then why do you still have this?” She lifted the envelope in her hands.

  “Because I think it’s important. I was still carrying it more than a month after I got it. I didn’t just keep it. I had it in my pocket. That means something, surely. It was important to her. My behavior change—it was a change, wasn’t it? I wasn’t always such a moody bitch?”

  Erin smiled. “No, you weren’t always that bad.”

  “But I was bad?”

  “We all had our moments, Morgan. It’s called life.”

  Morgan frowned but carried on. “I think that letter has something to do with why I left. Why else did I have it on me when I was attacked?”

  “Do you think that this is why you were attacked?”

  Morgan blushed and her gaze dropped to her hands. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you know anything about the attack?”

  Morgan visibly squirmed. “The police have some pictures from CCTV footage. They’re trying to find the people who were there.”

  “They showed me the pictures. Asked if I recognized either of them.”

  Morgan flinched. “They showed you the picture?”

  “Yes.”

  Morgan’s face paled. “She was—I mean, we were—it looked like, maybe we knew—she might have been—oh God, I don’t really know, but—”

  Erin felt the knot of dread forming in the pit of her stomach. “What are you trying to say?”

  “In the picture…the way we were together looked like…” Morgan frowned. “Didn’t you think it was…I don’t know, a little bit…erm…inappropriate for a car park?”

  Erin felt the knot unravel. “The picture they showed me was of a woman’s face and a man’s face. I didn’t see you at all.”

  Sweat beaded on Morgan’s forehead. and Erin could practically hear the “oh shit” mantra going on in her head. “What were you doing with her?” Erin felt as though ice were flowing through her veins. “Talking to her?”

  Morgan shook her head, jus
t once.

  “Kissing her?”

  The blush deepened on Morgan’s cheeks. “It, erm, looked like—”

  “You were fucking her?” Waves of jealousy coursed through her and the cold numbness that had been invading her body fled before the burning tide of possession and fury.

  “What? No.”

  “Then what?”

  “My head was against her chest.”

  “Against her chest like you were hugging her? Or against her chest like you were fucking her?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How do you not know? It’s really fucking simple, Morgan. Did you have your arms wrapped around her, or were they between her legs?”

  “It looked like they were on the car.”

  The picture formed in Erin’s head of Morgan nuzzling the blonde’s breasts and felt her worst fears coming true. She flung the letter at her. “You were fucking someone else in the car park three weeks after you walk out of here, and you want me to buy into that”—she pointed at the letter—“being the reason? Think again.”

  “I wasn’t…it wasn’t like that.”

  “Really? Then what was it like?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

  “No, you don’t remember so that makes it all okay does it? That makes it understandable. Forgivable. Having no memory doesn’t absolve you of anything, Morgan. It just means you get to forget the hurt you’ve caused.”

  “No. It doesn’t mean that. It means I have no way of knowing what was going on. I can’t imagine any version of me that would cheat on you, Erin. Never. But you’re right. I don’t know what happened. For all I know, I could have just met her in a bar or something. The doctor said I had that drug in my system, didn’t she? Maybe it wasn’t my fault.”

  “And that makes it all better, does it? Ifs, buts, and maybes, and it’s all water under the bridge. I don’t think so, Morgan. I want facts. I want tangible, concrete facts. And you want to know what they are?” She licked her lips and pointed at Morgan. “Three weeks. Three fucking weeks without a word. Your children didn’t even know if they were going to see you again. We didn’t even know if you were alive, and you think maybe is good enough.” She grabbed the letter and tore it open. She pulled the page out and glanced over it quickly. Morgan stared at her the whole time. She stood up, grabbed Morgan’s arm, and pulled her to her feet. “Get out!”

  “It doesn’t explain anything?”

  “Nothing.” Erin screwed it into a ball and tossed it at Morgan. She didn’t try to catch it, instead letting it fall to the ground.

  “But I thought it would.”

  Erin pushed her out of the room.

  “Please, don’t do this—”

  “Me? I didn’t do this, Morgan, you did!”

  “I’m not her.”

  “You know something, my mum used to say if it looks like a monkey, and sounds like a monkey, there’s a damn good chance it is a monkey!” She pointed to the front door.

  “Erin, I’m different now. Please believe me. Whatever I did wrong before, let me put it right. I can’t explain what I did then. If that letter doesn’t make it clear then I have no idea.”

  “I do. It’s blonde and lets you fuck her in car parks.”

  “I wouldn’t do that to you. I don’t know how I know, but I do. I wouldn’t cheat on you. Not now, and I can’t believe I would then either. Please. You have to believe me.”

  “Why? Why should I? Why is it so goddamned important that I believe you?”

  “Because I love you.”

  Erin stopped and stared at her. It was ridiculous. This woman, who infuriated her in one breath, and enraged her in the next, stood in front of her, offering her the words she thought she’d never hear again. Morgan’s face was open; there was no pretence, no hidden agenda, just her heart. And Erin wanted to believe her. She wanted to forget she’d ever seen that picture. She wanted to forget she’d ever heard the additional details. She wanted Chris’s story to be true. She didn’t want to believe it was true. She wanted there to be any other explanation, no matter how ludicrous. Her heart pounded and her breath was ragged in her chest.

  Then Morgan’s lips were on her own, soft and gentle, a tender sampling of her mouth. She heard the whimper before she realized it had come from her own throat. Her fingers itched to touch, to slide across silken skin, to twist and tug at Morgan’s hair. She needed to feel, and the ache was just too much.

  She pulled Morgan to her, moaning as her weight pressed them both against the wall. Passion drove her and she opened her mouth to Morgan’s searching tongue as it flicked across her lips. Hungry, eager, demanding hands roamed freely, exploring arms, shoulders, faces. Erin couldn’t think, desire flowed hot and heavy in her blood, and she wrapped her leg around Morgan’s hip, groaning as her hand slipped down Morgan’s back. Fingers squeezed her backside and pulled her closer to Morgan’s body. The smell of leather and mint surrounded her, so familiar. Hot lips kissed her cheek, her neck, the small hollow at the base of her throat, and she was transported back in time.

  She buried her fingers in Morgan’s hair, pulling her until their lips met again. This was hers. Morgan was hers. She had never felt so possessive, so jealous, and so desirous. The need to feel every inch of Morgan against her blazed inside her as she started to peel the leather jacket from her shoulders.

  “Mum.” Maddie called from her room.

  She froze. Slowly, she became aware of Morgan’s body. That she was holding Morgan, their breathing harsh and in tandem. Her heart continued to pound, but the desire she had felt was gone, replaced by a sickening feeling of dread. A tender smile covered Morgan’s lips.

  Oh God, no. How could I be so stupid?

  “Mum, I’m ready.” Maddie’s voice was increasingly impatient.

  Erin took a deep breath, trying to sound as normal as possible. “I’ll be right there, Maddie.”

  Morgan slowly lowered her leg, squeezed her backside tenderly, and kissed her lips before backing away. “I know we have a lot to talk about—”

  “Morgan, this was a mistake.”

  “What are you talking about? No, it wasn’t.”

  “Yes, it was. I’m sorry. I should never have let that happen.”

  “But I love you.”

  “We’re over. Finished. Done. Understand? We are not a couple anymore. We are not together. We aren’t going to be.”

  “But—”

  “No. No buts. The only thing left between us are the kids. That’s it. End of story.” Erin waved her hand toward the door. “Now please go.”

  Morgan’s eyes looked empty as she stared at her silently. She looked lost, alone, frightened. Erin ached to take that look away, but she knew it was beyond her. She couldn’t let herself be vulnerable again. Morgan had proven to be untrustworthy, and she wouldn’t give her a second chance. Her heart wouldn’t survive losing her again.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Erin closed Maddie’s bedroom door behind her and walked slowly down the stairs. The front room felt cold, empty, and lifeless. The cups still sitting on the coffee table were a scornful reminder of her failure. Her inability to protect her marriage, her children, and her heart left her reeling. Her reaction to Morgan’s declaration left her dizzy.

  The passion between them had always burned hot, and Morgan had been everything she could have ever wanted in a lover. She’d been tender, loving, exciting, and generous, with just enough edge to take her breath and keep her desperate for more. The need had never abated. If tonight’s anything to go by, it never bloody will.

  She bent to pick up the crumpled envelope and placed it on the table as she sat down.

  Morgan’s admission that she was with someone else in the car park when she was attacked was confirmation of her fears, yet the letter fit the timing of Morgan’s abrupt change in behavior. The mood swings, the apathy, the depression. That all fit with the date of this letter. But there was nothing in the letter that explained those changes.

&n
bsp; The more she learned, the more she realized she didn’t know, and the more frustrating it became. She smoothed out the creases in the paper and unfolded the pages and wondered briefly if actually reading it would help Morgan get her memory back.

  It seems like maybe I’m the only one who wants her to remember. And that’s only so I can get some answers. In the moments where she let go of her anger she could readily acknowledge that Morgan seemed to be a happier person now. She was more carefree, better with the children, more patient and forgiving. And she certainly was trying her best with the kids.

  Erin couldn’t help but smile remembering Tristan giving Morgan lessons on the Internet and using Facebook. Morgan looked truly bewildered, but she sat with him for hours as he went through setting up a profile with her. Friending her. Showing her how to write messages. It was their preferred method of communication now.

  It didn’t seem to matter to them at all if she got her memory back. They were young enough to make new memories, to share in the future together. The only one who didn’t have a future with Morgan was her. For a second, she felt jealous of her own children. Of the moments they would have with Morgan, the lifetime they would fill with laughter, tears, joy, and sorrow, and Erin felt the weight of it crashing down on her. She let the tears fall, knowing they wouldn’t be the last.

  “Mum, you all right?” Tristan sat beside her, his hair sweaty from practice as she ran her hand over his head and pulled him in for a hug.

  “I didn’t hear you come in, sorry. I’ll be fine.”

  “What’s wrong?” He pulled away, looking at her with a mixture of fear and determination in his eyes.

  “Just feeling a bit sad tonight, kiddo. Sorry you found me like this.” She tucked the papers back into the envelope and stuffed it into her pocket.

  “I’m not a little kid, Mum. You can tell me stuff.”

  Oh, my sweet little man, I will keep you a little kid just as long as I can. “I know, honey, but I’m really fine. How was practice?”

  He rolled his eyes but accepted the change of subject. He slouched back on the sofa as Erin wiped her eyes. “It was cool. Colin totally landed on his arse after a—”