The Puzzle of You

by Leah Mercer

  ‘I quit,’ she says, and the look of surprise on Ed’s face is worth the drudgery of the past few weeks. ‘Give Ute my best.’

  And with that, she walks away.

  Towards her home.

  Towards her daughter.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  It’s just after midnight when Charlotte reaches her flat. She stares up at the hideous blackout curtains, remembering the first time she saw them after the accident. Although she still hates them just as much, she’s not the same woman who looks at them in dread, terrified of the life that lay behind them. The notion of being a mother doesn’t scare her any longer. In fact, after what just happened with Ed, she knows now that she wants to embrace it. It’s a part of her, just as much as wanting a fulfilling career is.

  Charlotte creeps up the stairs and turns the key in the flat door. It’s dark and silent inside, and she gently pushes the bedroom door open. Taking advantage of her absence, David is sprawled on the bed, hogging the duvet like he always used to. Anabelle is lying flat on her back, her little rosebud mouth open and closing with every breath. Her dark hair fans out on the pillow, and Zebby is tucked under her arm. She looks so defenceless and delicate, and . . . Charlotte freezes as an avalanche of images tumbles into her brain.

  Anabelle as an infant, her lips blue and her breathing laboured.

  The huge bandage swamping her chest after the operation.

  Bringing her baby home, and the terror and fug of fear that clogged her every thought process, colouring each move with uncertainty and worry.

  And . . . a heavy sense of guilt, lying across her body like a block of cement, cutting into her skin every time she squirms under its weight.

  Suddenly it feels like she’s not here, by this bed, in her home. She’s somewhere else, in a dark, dark place, gazing down at her daughter . . . her daughter, so small and pale, lying in a cot with tubes coming out of her nose. And Charlotte is vibrating with terror and love that fills every pore of her, so much that it spills over, engulfing her in a cloud that changes how she sees the world around her – a cloud that changes everything.

  The cloud of motherhood.

  Her heart is beating so fast now that she can practically feel the blood rushing through her body, carrying a tidal wave of emotions with it. She struggles to stand but suddenly feels light-headed and sinks back on to the bed. With every pulse, a wave of love, of fear, then love again breaks inside her, battering her soul.

  Charlotte tries to catch her breath and process what she’s seen; what she felt. Terror and fear she can understand – she had a tiny taste of that when she thought Anabelle was lost. But guilt? Why would she feel guilty? She did everything she could to be with Anabelle, managing to become a ‘wonderful mother’, by all accounts. She tries to grasp the end of the yarn of memory to unravel it further. There was something . . . something she was supposed to do . . .

  The knowledge hits her like a hammer. The ultrasound. The one that might have spotted Anabelle’s condition . . . the one that might have made those first few weeks less traumatic for everyone.

  The one she’d never completed because she’d rushed back to work.

  Oh, God.

  She gets to her feet and staggers to the window, buckling under the weight of the memories now rushing into her. She pushes aside the curtains and stares at the street, struggling to make sense of it all, twisting and turning each new piece of knowledge to fit into the framework of her former life . . . a life she thought she’d known, but hadn’t at all.

  Because her life as a new mum wasn’t what she’d envisioned: a jolly place full of joy and light. It was a place that was shrouded, most of all, in guilt. Guilt that seeped out of every pore; guilt and blame that guided her choices.

  She understands now why she didn’t go back to work, even if she’d been ready after that first traumatic year. It wasn’t because she didn’t want to, but because she’d believed her drive and ambition might lead her astray once more. And the only way she could live her new life was to shut down her old self for good . . . or try to, anyway.

  She longs to reach back through the years and give herself a huge hug; to say that even though she’d made a careless decision by rushing back to work instead of completing the scan, she couldn’t have begun to grasp the consequences – she’d had no idea exactly how much she was risking. And while Charlotte can understand the crushing sense of guilt, the distance she’s gained helps her realise that even if she had rescheduled, her daughter’s condition might not have been spotted. The outcome might have been the same.

  She could have done things differently. She should have done things differently, there’s no doubt about that. She’d known that, and she’d tried to change herself because of it. But now, Charlotte can see that, despite all her efforts, she hadn’t completely changed. She’d still loved David but she’d shoved him away, unable to succumb to his comfort . . . never knowing he felt as guilty as she did. She’d wanted to work but was too worried it might suck her back in. She’d longed to run when he’d given her the trainers, and she’d fled the women’s negativity on that night out as if she might crack and join in. She’d even convinced herself she wanted another baby, in a desperate attempt to prove that she was all right with her life.

  No wonder she’d been so angry when David had told her his secret. She’d forced her whole identity into the role of mother, only to be told she could never really atone.

  Charlotte breathes in a long, shuddery sigh. She has changed since becoming a mother, there’s no doubt about that. How can you not, when you have a child; when you’re responsible for another being . . . a being you love with an intensity like no other? But ever since the accident, she’s struggled to understand how motherhood seemed to have transformed her into a completely different person. It hadn’t, though: that woman wasn’t completely a stranger – not how she’d believed. She’d tried to deny it, but she’d wanted all the things Charlotte wants now: a job where she’s valued, a piece of her heart that belongs just to her . . . and love. Love for her husband, and a marriage that works.

  A marriage that’s not torn apart by guilt and blame.

  Charlotte turns from the window towards the bed, taking in her husband’s sleeping form. Is it any surprise they’d been so far apart? They’d both wrapped their secrets and guilt around themselves like shields, each believing they were responsible for their daughter’s suffering, unable to let the other in. If only they’d been able to talk, they might have been able to come together. Instead, they’d let the space between them grow and grow, to the point where David had actually thought he’d be better off leaving. Only Anabelle had stopped him from going.

  Charlotte sits down beside her husband, his warmth seeping through the duvet. David is ready now to be a father, and she’s more than ready to be a mother. But are they ready once again to be husband and wife? Can they fight their way out of the tangle of secrets that has held them back and have a marriage once again? David did say he still loved her, but . . .

  ‘Charlotte?’ David’s eyes open and he gazes sleepily up at her. ‘Is that you? What are you doing here?’

  ‘Hey.’ She smiles, her lips trembling. ‘I came back early.’

  David sits up, scanning her face. ‘Is everything okay?’

  ‘David . . .’ Charlotte pauses, garnering every last bit of strength and courage to tell him she remembers the past. To tell him about the ultrasound, about the one thing she could have done to protect their daughter – and didn’t.

  To tell him the real reason she wanted more of motherhood and the truth about why she pushed him away.

  To start to untangle the web of secrets and see if they might have a future.

  ‘David, I remember.’ The words fall from her mouth and David’s face hardens. ‘I remember what happened before the accident, and Anabelle’s birth, and . . .’

  David’s already out of bed and gathering up the clothes he left in a heap on the floor. ‘I’ll go,’ he says quietly, not e
ven looking at her. ‘I’ll sleep on the sofa tonight and I’ll head to Mum’s tomorrow.’

  ‘Wait!’ she hisses, trying not to wake Anabelle. ‘You don’t need to go. I don’t want you to go. Just sit down for a sec.’

  He sinks on to the bed without answering, his eyes locked on her. Charlotte takes a deep breath. Then, with their daughter fast asleep just inches away, she starts talking.

  David is quiet while she speaks, his steady gaze not faltering even when she tells him of the ultrasound. She works her way through the past three years, and when her voice fades away, the room is silent but for the breathing of their daughter.

  In and out. In and out. In and out.

  Charlotte fills her ears with that precious sound, her heart pounding as she awaits David’s reaction. After what feels like a lifetime, he folds her into his arms . . . and for the first time in years, she can sense he’s giving her all of him. She lays her head on his chest and breathes in his familiar scent. There’s no need for more words – no explanations, no apologies. There’s just the two of them, battered and bruised, yet still together.

  No, Charlotte thinks with a small smile: not just the two of them. It’ll never be just the two of them again, and that’s okay.

  More than okay, actually.

  Because finally, they’re a family.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Two months later

  The leaves glow yellow in the autumn sunshine. Charlotte’s legs churn out a rhythm as she puffs along the pavement, her breath coming in neat, controlled breaths. This is her first race since before she got pregnant with Anabelle. Training has been a challenge amid taking care of Anabelle and her busy work schedule, but thanks to David and Miriam’s help, she’s managed to fit in all her runs, growing in confidence as well as strength.

  She’d found a pair of brand-new trainers in the dark depths under the bed, of all places. Even though it had been ages, she hadn’t been able to resist putting them on and struggling into her running gear. David grinned when he saw her, rolling his eyes when she said her legs looked like overstuffed sausages in Spandex. Starting again was a challenge. Her legs ached and her lungs burned, but she kept going, covering more miles every day. Her body’s different since giving birth – her stomach muscles have never returned to where they used to be – but overall, she’s stronger than ever.

  Finding a job that suits her experience has made her more confident, too – able to actually enjoy working again, without the stress and strain of constantly trying to prove herself. She smiles, remembering the email from Ute that pinged into her personal mailbox a few weeks ago. Ute was starting up her own consultancy, and said she’d love to have Charlotte on board as a UK-based consultant. Not as an employee, but as a freelancer, taking on contracts as needed. She didn’t know if Charlotte was keen to stay put at Cellbril, but given the management’s seeming inability to value employees’ experience, she wondered if Charlotte might consider a move. She could work from home and manage her own schedule – Ute had had enough of managing employees. What did she think?

  Although she’d had a few irons in the workplace fire, this had sounded like the perfect opportunity – and Charlotte was pleased someone had recognised how Ed had pushed her aside. She’d jumped at the chance, and she’s been busy working ever since. At her own pace, as her own boss, getting the credit she deserves . . . it’s been wonderful. Working from home is a challenge some days, but right now, she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Anabelle has settled into nursery well and already has four ‘best friends’. Miriam is only too happy to help out when needed, and with Charlotte doing pick-ups while David does drop-offs, it’s all worked out brilliantly. With things going so well, they’ve decided to hold off on the move to Miriam’s, eager to give themselves a chance to learn how to be a family first.

  There are days, of course, when Charlotte wants to tear her hair out – when she needs more hours to work and Anabelle has to be picked up. There are times when she longs to cuddle her daughter just that bit longer before sending her off to nursery or disappearing on a week-long business trip. Life will never be as uncomplicated as it was before Anabelle came along, but Charlotte’s learning to love the messy motherhood mix of frustration, fear . . . and love. Because above everything – even in that first year when she could barely blink without feeling guilt – it was love for her daughter that pulled her through; love that brought Charlotte back to her family after the accident.

  And love that connected her and David once again after years of blame. Warmth rushes through her at the thought of her husband. Learning to let go of their past mistakes and give themselves permission to be a couple again isn’t always easy, but they’re working on it . . . together. And if the night before last’s lovemaking session is anything to go by, then practice is definitely on its way to making perfect.

  Accommodating all the roles that make up who she is – mother, wife, worker, a person in her own right – may never be easy. They may push and strain and sometimes collide, one overtaking the other when the need is greater. But as long as Charlotte holds them all close to her heart, she needn’t worry about losing any of them. They are written into her soul, the very fabric of her, and she can no more erase them than she can change the colour of her eyes. God knows, she’s learned that by now.

  Her heart leaps as she spots Anabelle, David and Miriam at the final bend before the finishing line. They jump and cheer when they see her, their voices so loud they cut through the cacophony of the crowd. Charlotte waves and gives them a huge smile, every inch of her glowing despite the fatigue of her body.

  She focuses on the finishing line looming up ahead, getting closer and closer with every step. And she knows that, in life, she still has a long way to go – that in motherhood, there is no finishing line. There will always be new worries and new fears. There will always be obstacles to face, and new challenges as she tries to keep it all together.

  But there will also be new hopes and dreams.

  There will be laughter and light.

  As the finishing line draws nearer, everything else drops away . . . everything but herself, pushing forward, pushing on.

  Her legs churn faster and faster; her grin grows wider.

  And she feels like she’s flying.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  A huge thanks to the people who read this book in its early stages and gave me such support and encouragement: India Drummond, Glynis Smy, Mel Sherratt and my wonderful agent, Madeleine Milburn. A big thank you to the team at Amazon Publishing, especially Victoria Pepe, who has been such a pleasure to work with. Thanks, also, to my editor Sophie Wilson, who never fails to amaze me with her thoughtful input and ideas.

  Finally, thank you to my husband for always being there to discuss complicated plotlines, and to my son, who teaches me something new about motherhood every day.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Leah Mercer was born in Halifax, Nova Scotia, on the east coast of Canada. By the age of thirteen, she’d finished her first novel and received very encouraging rejections from publishers. Leah put writing on hold to focus on athletics, achieving provincial records and becoming a Canadian university champion in the 4 × 400-metre relay. After getting her BA, she turned to writing again, earning a masters in journalism. A few years later she left Canada and settled in London, where she now lives with her husband and their young son.

  Leah also writes under the name Talli Roland, and her books have been shortlisted at the UK’s Romantic Novelists’ Association Awards.

 

 

 
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