Things We Never Said: A Hart's Boardwalk Novel

by Samantha Young

  “Let’s all sit down.” Dad pressed a hand to my back.

  The suggestion relieved my shaky legs. Dad took the seat beside me, and Darragh sat across from me beside Davina, but not before touching my shoulder in comfort.

  God, I loved my big brother.

  The ache of missing him swelled inside me.

  “Where have you been?” Davina demanded first.

  I opened my mouth to tell her, but to all of our surprise, Darragh beat her to it. “Hartwell, Delaware.”

  “How do you know that?” Dad was obviously put out by this information.

  Darragh glowered at him. “You think I was going to take your word for it that she was okay? I love you, Dad, I respect you, you know it … but she’s my baby sister. You should have known I needed to know for myself that she was okay.” He turned to me. “I hired a PI. Found you in Hartwell, knew you were okay, and left it at that.”

  I was shocked. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I was afraid if I told Dad I knew where you were that he’d tell you and you’d up and move.”

  Ashamed that he’d think that, I shook my head. “I wouldn’t have done that, Darragh. Hartwell started out as a hiding place, but it became more than that. It’s my home.”

  “This is your home.” Davina’s hazel eyes flickered with fire as she turned to our big brother. “You didn’t think maybe I’d want to know where she was?”

  “You would have gone there.”

  “Of course I would have.” She turned to me. “I would have dragged your ass back home!”

  “Davina,” my dad warned.

  “Stop protecting her,” she hissed. “She’s a grown woman, and she can speak for herself.”

  “Davi,” I whispered in sorrow.

  “Don’t call me that.”

  That was like a punch to the gut.

  Davi was my nickname for her. I was the only one who called her that.

  “Christ, Davina,” Darragh said. “We said we wouldn’t do this to her.”

  “We should have done this a long time ago.”

  I needed them to understand something. “I couldn’t come home.”

  “Of course you could have.”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Yes, you could have.”

  “No, I couldn’t!” I yelled, losing my patience.

  Davina sat back in her chair, her eyes wide.

  I grimaced. “I’m sorry … I … you don’t know …” Not even my dad knew, which made how much he’d protected and cared for me over the years even more amazing.

  But now that Mom wasn’t here, now that my parents had separated, I could explain everything. I realized it was the real reason I had felt strong enough to come home now. It took me to get to this moment, to face my family, to truly understand.

  I knew it didn’t erase the years of cowardice, of hiding, but maybe it would answer some of their questions.

  So, on a quiet Sunday afternoon in my childhood home, I told my family my story. It was painful, it was difficult, and I was ashamed to admit all of it, to tell them everything, but I did it because I wanted them back. I hadn’t realized how much I wanted them back until I saw them again. And if I had to lay myself bare to get them back, I would.

  I no longer needed to protect my mother.

  When I was finished, Davina was wiping at silent tears, Darragh’s face was pale and haggard, and my dad … I couldn’t look at my dad.

  He pushed his chair back from the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

  “Dad!” The word was garbled by my tears as I moved to chase him.

  “Don’t.” Darragh reached across the table and grabbed my wrist. “Let him go.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?” Davina shook her head.

  “Because she was wrong and she wasn’t wrong. And her daughter had just died, and I didn’t … I didn’t want you to hate her.”

  “Too late for that.” Davina curled her lip.

  Dread filled me. “Davina, she wasn’t in her right mind.”

  “Oh? Is she still not? Because since I came out, she pretends like she’s still my mother, like my being gay doesn’t bother her, but she’s never been to my apartment. She’s never invited Astrid and me for suppa unless it was Thanksgiving and the whole family was here. And let’s put aside her secret homophobia and remind ourselves that she erased you from her life. She doesn’t talk about you, she doesn’t let anyone else talk about you, and she acted like it was all your fuckin’ fault!” She pushed away from the table.

  “Davina,” Darragh admonished.

  “No!” She sobbed. “I hate her, Dar. I hate her.”

  “Come here.” He stood up, and I watched as he pulled my sister into his arms as she cried. My poor brother. I wondered if he’d known he’d spend most of his day comforting his little sisters.

  I knew that Davina wasn’t merely crying about me. My heart was already shredded by my mother, but Davina’s confirmation that my mom had erased me was like a knife in my gut. The knife twisted as I realized she’d not only hurt me but she’d inflicted wounds on my big sister too. The depth of Davina’s pain was about her relationship with Sorcha McGuire. I wasn’t the only daughter my mom couldn’t accept. It sounded like she hadn’t fully come to terms with Davina being gay. I knew what it was like to feel the harsh chill of Mom’s disapproval. You could be five, fifteen, or fifty, and feeling like one of your parents didn’t love you or agree with who you’d become was one of the worst hurts in the world.

  I wished I’d been there for Davina.

  Seeing how close she and Darragh still were, however, soothed me. They had each other. I glanced over my shoulder at the doorway dad had stormed out of. I worried my bottom lip between my teeth. At once, the separation between Mom and Dad started to make sense. Cian McGuire loved his kids more than anything. We were his life. I had no doubt that Mom’s treatment of two of their daughters had put a strain on their marriage.

  And he hadn’t even known the full of it.

  Until now.

  My concern grew.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything after all if it had meant hurting Dad.

  “Stop it.”

  Davina’s harsh voice brought my attention back to her. She and my brother were no longer hugging. Instead, she was looking at me with a million things in her expression. “Don’t sit there and worry that you shouldn’t have told the truth because of Dad. It was long past due, and you did the right thing. He’s not mad at you. He’s mad at himself.”

  “I know what it’s like to be mad at yourself and frankly, I’d prefer him to be mad at me.”

  She gave me a soft smile that made my heart race. “Some things never change. I’m still mad at you, Dahlia, but you didn’t leave for selfish reasons. You left to protect him and to protect us from the truth.”

  “Don’t make me sound noble. I was a drunk who ended up in therapy.”

  “Yeah.” She walked around the table and held her hand out to me. “But now I get why. I’m still mad at you for not coming back sooner. But I guess I kind of understand that too now.”

  I took her hand and let her pull me up. My arms flew around her, and she gave a huff of laughter as I held on tight. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you too, baby sis.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. For everything.” I looked at Darragh. “I’m so sorry.”

  He nodded. “I know.”

  Pulling back, I sniffled. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Darragh agreed. “Krista wants you to come for dinner this week. The boys are dying to meet their aunt Dahlia who gives them such cool presents every year.”

  My heart wanted to burst. “They know who I am?”

  “Christ, Dahlia, of course they do.”

  Anticipation and trepidation filled me in equal measure. “I can’t wait to see them. Dad sent me pictures. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “I gave him the pictures t
o give to you.”

  This information caused an unexpected sob to burst forth.

  For years I’d been so afraid to come home.

  Now I couldn’t think why.

  My family was fuckin’ awesome!

  “If I” — I hiccupped — “if I don’t … if I don’t stop crying … I’m going to … I’ll be so … dehydrated!”

  My brother and sister burst out laughing, and I glared at their inappropriateness.

  Davina threw her arm around my shoulders and hugged me to her side. “It’s nice to know the old Dahlia is still under this bawling mess.”

  “I look like shit, don’t I?”

  “Pretty much.”

  That made me cry even harder, which only made my siblings laugh harder.

  Bastards.

  God, I loved them.

  After a while, Dad came out of hiding, seeming to have gathered himself. We knew him well enough to know that you let Dad bring up a subject. He didn’t want to talk about his feelings on what he learned, and as much as I wanted to discuss it with him, I let it be.

  I’d like to say everything was hunky-dory with Darragh, Davina, and me, but that would be too easy. Darragh had forgiven me the moment he saw me. That was my big brother. He was so like Dad in nature that I shouldn’t have been surprised by his reception.

  And I knew Davina understood things better now and would try. But there were nine years of missing out on each other’s lives, and as we sat around the table talking, awkwardness fell when we mentioned things about our past that left the other clueless.

  “I can’t believe you’ve had Aunt Cecilia’s shop this whole time,” Davina grumbled.

  When I’d hit the bottle back in Boston after Dillon’s death, Dad decided the only way to pull me out of that dark place was to get me out of the city. His little sister Cecilia inherited the shop on the boardwalk from her first husband. He’d left her a widow with a nice, hefty bank account. Dad knew Cecilia was thinking about selling the store and he convinced her to let me rent it instead.

  She’d passed away two years ago while traveling across Europe, and that beautiful woman had gifted me the shop in her will. It was now all mine.

  “You said Aunt Cecilia sold it.” My sister narrowed her eyes on Dad.

  “She rented it to Dahlia.”

  “And then she gave it to me in her will.”

  Davina’s eyes widened. “Nice.”

  “She was kind. Really kind.” Thoughts of Aunt Cecilia made me sad. She wrote me letters, sending me one every time she made it to a new city. Since I never knew when she would move on, I sent my replies via email. Still, Cecilia preferred the old-fashioned method. I’d loved that about her.

  “I can’t wait to see it,” Darragh said. “Krista and I would love to vacation there with the kids this summer. Spend some time with you.”

  “Wait, you’re going back?” Davina’s brows pulled together.

  Just like that, all the old hurt flared between us. Tentatively, I nodded. “I live there.”

  Before she could reply, the front door slammed and heavy footsteps stomped inside. “Dad!”

  Dermot.

  Shit.

  Growing up, it became apparent that Darragh, Davina, and I got a lot of character traits from Dad. Dermot and Dillon were a lot like Mom.

  I braced.

  “In here,” Dad responded, and tension seemed to build around the table as Dermot’s footsteps neared.

  And then he was there.

  His eyes drifted around the table and then stopped on me. Dermot may have had my mom’s nature, but he looked like my dad and Darragh. His nostrils flared at the sight of me.

  “Mom’s only out of the fuckin’ house five minutes, and that bitch is back.”

  My chest tightened with hurt.

  Darragh flew out of his chair. “You watch your mouth.”

  “You all forgive her?” He glared at my family. “She took off, forgot we existed, and then turned Dad against Mom.”

  “Oh, that’s right, Dermot, you let Mom’s twisted lies poison you. You can’t think for yourself. You have no idea what happened.” My sister was livid.

  “Mom’s been here for the last nine years. She walks in and has obviously told you shit, and you believe that over Mom?”

  “Well, yeah, because nine years does not negate the fact that I know Mom and I know Dahlia … so yeah, I know who I believe.”

  Dermot shook his head in disgust and then looked down at Dad. “This is Mom’s house, and no matter what is happening between you two, it’s a fuckin’ disgrace you let that trash in here.”

  Instead of the tears that my brother’s and sister’s acceptance brought on, Dermot’s vitriol turned me to ice. I numbed him out, unable to feel his words because they would hurt too much. Growing up, we’d been closer in age, and we used to hang out all the time. We shared the same friends. We’d been friends. Best of friends.

  Now he hated me.

  Dad rose slowly from his chair, and Dermot shifted back on his feet uncertainly. Our dad rarely got mad but when he did, it wasn’t with a typical Irish temper of yelling and cursing.

  He got real quiet.

  “This is my house,” he said, his voice all menacing softness, “and this is my daughter.” He put a hand on my shoulder. “Now you either respect that this is my house and respect your sister’s presence in it, or you can turn your ass back around and get the hell out.”

  Hurt saturated Dermot’s features. He shook his head in disbelief. “Christ, you’re all blind.”

  And on that, he stormed out.

  An awful silence filled the kitchen as Dad sat wearily back down at the table.

  I looked at my family who stared at me in concern.

  I shrugged, needing to lighten the mood despite my inner turmoil. “That was not as bad as the time he rolled dog shit in a piece of newspaper and left it under my bed.”

  As I’d hoped, they all chuckled, thankful for the break in tension.

  Seeming reluctant to leave me, Darragh and Davina both took calls from Krista and Astrid respectively and told them they wouldn’t be home for dinner. Instead, they stayed, and we ordered Chinese takeout. I got the impression they were afraid that if they left, I’d disappear again. Along with some self-reproach came the reassurance that no matter how difficult it would be to move on from the past, my big brother and sister still loved me.

  They caught me up on what was happening in their lives, and they asked about Hartwell. I had a lot of fun describing the characters who lived on the boardwalk, especially Bailey. Davina got quiet when I talked about Bailey, however, and I understood she was still upset with me. Bailey knew things about my life that no one else did.

  After what I’d told them in the kitchen, it wasn’t surprising that none of them asked about my romantic life. Maybe they were afraid it would set off another round of sobbing. It wouldn’t. I know it hadn’t sounded like it to them, but I’d moved on. If I hadn’t before, I certainly had now, knowing Michael had a wife.

  When my big brother and sister left, it was around ten o’clock. I didn’t know about them, but I was emotionally exhausted. They hugged me goodbye after we swapped numbers, and Davina said she’d have me over to her and Astrid’s place on Thursday for dinner when Dad was working so I wasn’t alone in the house. Darragh already had me and Dad penciled in for dinner on Wednesday night.

  The door closed behind them and silence fell between Dad and me.

  I recognized his expression. “I know. You were right.”

  “But I didn’t know what had set you running off and now it makes sense you’d come home when she wasn’t here.” My poor Dad seemed drained.

  I didn’t want to tell him he was right and make him feel worse. “Dad, I’d been toying with coming home for months. After I saw Michael, I realized I was stronger than I thought.”

  “So, you would have come home if your Mom was still here … after everything?”

  “I would have come home for you. F
or them.” I nodded at the door my siblings had walked out of. “Don’t hate her, Dad.”

  He shook his head. “You should have told me.”

  “Dad—”

  “I don’t hate her. But I’m furious with her. I don’t understand her.” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m tired, Bluebell. I’m going to catch up on the game before bed. You want to watch it with me?”

  I strode across the room and got on my tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I’m going to bed. Night, Dad. Love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  My heart twisted in my chest at the moroseness in his tone, and I gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m good. I promise.”

  He didn’t seem to believe me, but something like determination hardened his expression. “I know you will be.”

  Squeezing his arm, I turned and made my way to the guest room. The sound of a football game filtered upstairs and a wave of nostalgia hit me. We’d been a sports family. I wasn’t into it, but I’d loved how we all came together as a family during football season and the Super Bowl. I loved how Dad got us tickets to at least one game every year at Fenway to see the Red Sox play. There was nothing like the atmosphere at Fenway. The sound of laughter, the smell of beer, hotdogs, and popcorn. The music and sound of the announcer filling the stadium. The sounds of men and women with thick Bostonian accents running up and down the stands cradling goods shouting, “Beer! Get your beer!” “Hot dogs! Get your hotdogs!”

  That pain in my heart twisted even tighter at the memories of all of us together.

  My muscle memories automatically led me to the bedroom I’d shared with my sisters growing up. I’d already opened the door and was about to step inside when I remembered I wasn’t sleeping in there.

  My breath caught. Mom hadn’t changed the room. Tears filled my eyes as a sick sensation took up residence in my gut. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she’d kept Dillon’s side of the room the same and emptied mine, but my side hadn’t been touched either.

  I could still see the photos pinned to the wall by my bed.

  Unable to look at Dillon’s space, I tentatively walked in, my heart thudding hard in my chest as I gravitated toward the photos. My walls were covered in them and pieces of paper with my old sketches and paintings. The dresser at the side of my bed was still littered with old perfume bottles and makeup. I sat slowly down on the bed, a lump forming in my throat, as I gazed at the photos.