CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
T HE SLOPING CEMETERY ended in cliffs that overlooked the Pacific Ocean. It had glorious views along the dramatic coastline and out to sea, the sound of waves pounding and roaring against the mighty cliffs and the call of gulls providing the soundtrack to the otherwise hushed space.
Grass-covered paths separated the plots, all manner of headstones, from simple slabs of stones to crosses to angels, rising from the ground.
‘Why here?’ he asked as she led him quietly along the path, two small colourful posies in her hands. ‘Why this cemetery?’
She stopped and pointed along the coast. ‘Do you remember that day we spent on Bondi Beach? I think that day I was the happiest I had ever been. I wanted our babies to have somewhere beautiful to rest, near the place that had made my heart sing.’
Our babies.
He swallowed down against the lump in his throat. He couldn’t speak. He simply nodded.
‘This way,’ she said. ‘It’s not far.’
She stopped in front of a tiny grave, edged in marble rail. A small white stone comprising twin hearts stood at its head, on which two birds carrying a ribbon heavenwards were engraved.
Along with two names and an inscription.
Laura Marianne and David Dominico
Beloved babies of
Marianne and Dominico
Born before their time. Lost but never forgotten.
Sleep well, our tiny babies, sleep well.
‘You gave them names,’ he said, his voice thick with emotion. Both of the babies were acknowledged as his children. ‘Our names.’
She gave a shrug as she knelt down, pulled a tiny weed from the grave and tenderly placed a posy next to each heart. ‘I couldn’t give them life. I had nothing else to give them.’ She sniffed. ‘Laura and David were my parents. I thought it appropriate.’
‘It’s beautiful,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry you had to go through all of this alone.’
‘It’s my own fault,’ she said, taking his proffered hand as she rose. ‘I wanted to tell you, I was so excited to tell you, but I wanted to tell you face to face, not over the phone, not in a letter. And you were coming back, you told me, so I waited. And when, finally, I tried to tell you over the phone, you asked if it could wait. And then it couldn’t, and I’d waited too long.’
She hauled in a breath. ‘And then one of my waters broke. It was too early and there was nothing anyone could do, but they assured me that it didn’t mean I’d lose both babies. Except they were wrong. I don’t know why—nobody could tell me why, nobody could explain it—but it happened again, the second baby’s waters broke, and I lost them both. They were so tiny, Dom, tiny like dolls, but they were beautiful. Perfect with legs and arms and the tiniest of fingers and toes. They died in my arms. They were too tiny to survive with their lungs underdeveloped. And then it was too late to tell you anything. You were already not coming back and I had nothing to tell you.’
He had been coming back. He’d meant to come back.
Over and over, he’d told her he was coming back.
‘It’s not your fault,’ he said. ‘I should have come back.’
‘You called the week after I lost them, said you couldn’t see your way clear, and you didn’t want to keep me waiting endlessly, that maybe it was better if we ended it. That it was for the best.’
‘And you agreed,’ he said, his voice hoarse as he remembered, guilt piling on guilt that he’d imagined for one moment that she’d agreed with him because she’d already found someone else and moved on. Guilt piling on guilt that when he finally had come looking for her and discovered that she was married he’d believed it.
Tears stained her face. She looked up at him beseechingly. ‘Are you angry with me, for not telling you?’
‘No. I’m angry with myself, for ever imagining that work was more important than following my heart. And I’m angry with myself for not figuring out why you hated me so much. For believing that you had no right to hate me when you have every right in the world. Can you ever forgive me, Marianne?’
The waves crashed into the cliffs, sending spray high into the sky and salt-tinged air on the breeze.
She looked up into his face, taking in the dark, tortured eyes and clenched jaw. The breeze toyed with the ends of his hair, the movement at odds with the severity of his features and his plea for forgiveness.
And Mari felt that same breeze move through her and lighten her own soul. So much pain and hurt they’d caused each other. So much unnecessary resentment, and yes, even hate over the years.
‘I already have,’ she whispered. ‘What happened to us was the result of circumstances outside of our control. It was the result of bad timing and bad luck. You never meant to hurt me, you thought you were doing me a favour releasing me, and I never intended keeping our babies secret for ever. And yet we fell through the cracks of our own bad decision-making.’
He took a deep breath, his eyes softening, his jaw relaxing. ‘Thank you.’
She licked her lips. ‘But I have a question. What happens now?’
‘What do you mean? We’re married, Marianne. You’re pregnant with our babies. What do you think happens?’
‘I don’t know,’ She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. ‘You’re the one who insisted this marriage be temporary. You’re the one who arrived here with a wad of divorce papers for me to sign.’
‘And then I discover that you’re pregnant.’
She opened her eyes. Seeking her forgiveness—being granted it—was one thing, but assuming that all of a sudden everything had swung back one hundred and eighty degrees when he had clearly come looking for her to sign divorce papers?
No, no and no.
She put one hand to her head, the other low over her still flat belly where her babies resided, battling to make sense of it. ‘So now you want to forget about the divorce? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘We’re married,’ he growled, as if she didn’t already know. ‘And you’re having my babies. What would be the sense of getting divorced now? You can’t shut me out again. I refuse to be shut out. Can’t you see it’s for the best if we stay together?’
For the best.
And that was the only reason?
This time Mari turned away, gave a final nod of respect to the headstone at the top of the tiny grave and headed back down the grassed path. Because it was the wrong answer and there was no point continuing the conversation.
‘Marianne,’ he called, chasing after her. ‘Surely you see it makes sense.’
Mari ploughed on, her hands plunged deep in her jacket pockets. Maybe his words did make a kind of sense, if you were other people in different circumstances, but they didn’t make the right kind of sense to her.
‘It’s Mari!’ she called over her shoulder. ‘How many times do I have to tell you?’ Because she wasn’t that na?ve young woman she’d been back then. And the jigsaw pieces of a horrible parallel between twenty years ago and now were starting to fit together.
Twenty years ago, Dom had professed his love for her, and yet abandoned her, now saying if only he’d known she was pregnant he would have been at her side in a heartbeat.
And now he’d turned up with legal papers to divorce her and to terminate their rushed marriage. Only to relent when he’d discovered she was pregnant.
Then and now.
Maybe those disparate situations weren’t that far apart after all.
Marianne was on a mission, striding away as if she had the devil himself behind her. What the hell was wrong with her? Dom was no devil. Hadn’t he said he’d be there for her and for their babies?
He finally caught up with her close to the cemetery gates.
‘What did I say?’
‘Will you please just take me home?’
‘Seriously, Marianne. One moment you’re telling me you’re forgiving me for past sins—that we were both responsible—and in the next I’ve made some kind of heinous mistake.’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘And now can I go home?’
They hadn’t made it to the car when Mari took the call. The caller ID told her it came from Eric Cooper, but the voice was female. But not Helen, his wife. Sandra, the caller identified herself, Eric and Helen’s daughter.
‘Mari,’ she said, is that you?’
Mari’s heart lurched. Her feet stumbled on the path. Please God, no, she thought, anticipating— dreading —why this woman would be calling her. Surely not already. Not so soon.
‘It’s Dad—Eric,’ Sandra said. ‘I’m so sorry to call you, but Dad passed away peacefully two days ago. You were on his list of people to contact with the news.’
Mari stood stock still, listening as Sandra filled her in with the details of Eric’s upcoming funeral.
‘I’ll be there,’ she said, her throat choking. ‘I’m so sorry for your loss.’
‘Who was that?’ Dom asked.
‘Eric Cooper’s daughter,’ she said, bitterness infusing her words.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Eric died two days ago.’
A pause.
‘I’m sorry,’ Dom said.
‘Are you?’ she snapped. ‘What do you even care? You went after his company and you succeeded. You won, right? So don’t pretend you give a fig.’
‘I know what it feels like to lose someone you love. That’s what I meant.’
Mari put her head down, a concession to a nod. That was fair. This was the man who’d so recently lost his mother.
‘The funeral’s tomorrow,’ she said, licking her lips, tasting the salt of her tears. ‘I need to be there.’
‘You’ll be there,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure of it.’
‘Don’t you have somewhere else to be?’ she asked. ‘A deal going on somewhere else in the world that you need to take care of? A company somewhere that you need to take over?’
‘Marianne,’ he said, trying to get through to her, trying to break down this invisible barrier that she’d erected between them, ‘if there’s one thing I’ve learned from my years of experience it’s that I have to be in the place where I’m most needed at the time. Right at this moment, that place is here with you.’
She was quiet on the plane back to Melbourne, lost in her grief for the loss of a dear friend, her answers and comments to the cabin crew monosyllabic. He ached for her. He wanted to ease her burden. He wanted to put right whatever he’d done wrong. He wanted to comfort her, like she had comforted him in those dark hours after his mother had died. But she didn’t want his comfort.
She didn’t want him.
And that was the hardest thing of all.
The funeral chapel oozed empathy and compassion. The decor was muted, a lectern to one side, and there, on the dais, sat the flower-topped coffin, arrangements of flowers standing either side.
Dom held back, not sure that he’d be welcomed by the family when Mari hugged Eric’s wife and then his daughters, before taking a seat. Dom sat beside her, even though it was an all too painful reminder of the so recent funeral of his mother. But he had to remind himself that he wasn’t here for himself today. He was here for Marianne.
She was broken, he could tell. Eric had meant the world to her. He’d been both her mentor and a father figure to replace the parent she’d lost when just a young child. Knowing that he’d added to her pain by whatever stupid thing he’d told her at the cemetery, he hated himself.
If only he knew what he’d done wrong.
The funeral service moved on. Prayers and readings and a eulogy delivered by his daughter that brought everyone to tears. And finally, the heart-wrenching kicker—the photographic display set to Leonard Cohen’s beautiful ‘Hallelujah’ that spanned Eric’s life, from when he had been just a baby and then a toddler and a schoolchild and onwards through his life, his marriage to Helen, his children, until he was CEO of Cooper Industries, and there were photographs from business and Christmas lunches, awards he’d won, and snapshots in which Marianne appeared, leaning down and smiling, her arm around Eric’s shoulders, or when Eric was dressed up as Santa, his arm around Mari’s shoulders.
Mari quietly sobbed beside him as each new picture flashed up on the screen. He reached a hand over to hers where they were clutched in her lap, but she pulled them away.
The interment was just as moving. Just as much an ordeal. While Eric’s widow and daughters softly sobbed as the coffin was lowered into the grave, Marianne was contained and stoic, her emotions clearly held in check as she stood swaying ever so slightly at the graveside. But he could feel the pain vibrating through her, he could see the pain etched on her beautiful features, and her pain was his pain.
Afterwards there was a small reception for everyone to mingle and take refreshments. Helen Cooper was doing the rounds, shaking hands with and thanking everyone for coming, when she approached Mari and Dom.
‘It was a beautiful service,’ said Mari. ‘Eric deserved every bit of it.’
‘Thank you, dear,’ she said, taking Mari’s hands in hers and pressing her cheek with a kiss, before turning to Dom beside her. ‘Mr Estefan, I believe,’ she said, and she shook his hand. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t recognise you earlier. Thank you for coming.’
‘I hope you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t sure—’
‘Oh, no,’ she said, waving his concerns away. ‘Thank you for buying Cooper Industries when you did. I know it was his passion but I only wish Eric had sold it years earlier. These last few weeks have been such a gift. I will cherish the precious time Eric and I had together for ever.’
‘He was so looking forward to spending time with you,’ said Mari. ‘I didn’t expect we’d lose Eric so soon.’
Helen gave a wan smile. ‘Nobody did. But he didn’t suffer at the end so that’s something to be grateful for.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘I just selfishly wish there’d been more time to enjoy having him to myself, but perhaps it’s for the best.’ She patted the back of Mari’s hand. ‘And now I must move on. Thank you both for coming.’
For the best.
There was something about those words, something that snagged in Dom’s mind.
‘Take me home,’ Marianne said, sounding tired.
She closed her eyes in the car and rested her head back on the head rest, so quiet that Dom thought she’d fallen asleep.
But then she asked, ‘When do you fly home?’
Her words were like a body blow. He looked over at her, her eyes still closed. ‘You want me gone that badly?’
‘What is there to stay for?’
‘I can think of a couple of reasons.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. We can share custody.’
She sounded so logical, as if this were a simple accounting problem involving numbers that she could find an easy solution to, the reconciliation of a problem, but one that didn’t involve any kind of reconciliation between Marianne and Dom at all.
‘And before they’re born? What if something happens and I’m not here?’
Her beautiful mouth pulled into a grimace. ‘The doctors say it shouldn’t happen again.’
‘And if it does? Dios , Marianne, do you hate me so much that you would exclude me from watching my babies develop and grow? What is this, some kind of payback for me not being here first time around? The first time I didn’t even know you were pregnant!’
She opened her eyes. Turned to him, her emerald eyes misty with tears. She looked sad. Desperately, achingly sad. ‘How else can we make it work?’
He looked away. ‘I don’t know.’
Marianne said goodbye when he walked her to the door. There was no invitation to come in, just a thank you for escorting her to the funeral.
He didn’t push it. Instead, he asked, ‘You’ll keep in touch? Keep me informed with what’s going on?’
She nodded. ‘I will.’
And Dom knew that he’d blown his chance with Marianne again.