Chapter 10
Ten
EILIDH
Eight months ago
T he sight of my wee sister’s beaming smile filled me with joy.
Morwenna’s arrival couldn’t have come at a better time.
Lewis had mentioned last year that Morwenna admitted to feeling neglected by us. Mor was technically our half sister and because our mum was so much younger than our father, there was a big age gap between me and Mor. She was turning fifteen in November.
While I had always been a loud, smart-mouthed child who liked attention and, quite frankly, had preened beneath it, Mor was quieter. More reserved. She was actually a lot like our father.
I was envious of how much Mor looked like Mum with her copper-red hair, chestnut-brown eyes, and dimples. She was tall and slender. Lewis and I didn’t look like the Adairs or, of course, Mum. We both took after our birth mother, Francine. Dark hair, blue eyes. The only thing we’d inherited from our father was our olive skin.
Maybe that envy was a betrayal of Francine, but I didn’t know the woman who’d birthed me. I was a baby when she died. Regan was my mum. And I had to admit to no small amount of envy when Mor was born because I worried that deep down, Mum could never love me with the same intensity that she loved a child she actually gave birth to.
It was something I’d never admitted out loud to anyone.
And maybe subconsciously, it had held me back from Mor. At first, I was excited to have a baby around and had looked after her almost as much as my parents. But as she grew into a toddler and I realized how much of my parents’ time she required, I’d backed off. Lewis was the one who had given her his attention when we were teenagers. I was off acting, desperate to fulfil my dream of becoming a movie star.
Sometimes I didn’t recognize the girl I used to be.
So selfish and self-involved. It hurt knowing that was who I used to be.
Lewis informing me that we’d upset Mor with our neglect … I’d never felt like a bigger arsehole. It had taken patience to get past my sister’s defenses, but finally she trusted me enough to spend time with me.
And the past few weeks had been a balm to the soul.
Despite her reserve, Mor was excited about London and I was excited that I got to do all the things I’d never done before. We took a bus tour together, visited the Tower of London, Buckingham Palace, went on the London Eye, Big Ben, Westminster Abbey. We even took a day tour of Stonehenge, Windsor Castle, and Bath. Then there were the West End shows we’d attended. I’d gotten us tickets to see two shows a week for the three weeks she was in London. We ate out most nights, then snuggled up on my couch to watch TV. When Mor opened up, she was funny and sharp and sweet all at the same time.
It was the best three weeks I’d had in as long as I could remember.
On our final day, I’d gotten permission to take Mor to the studio where we filmed Young Adult to show her how it all worked behind the scenes. She drank in every second of it, eager to learn what it was I did with my days, and I kicked myself for not doing it sooner.
That night, with our suitcases packed and waiting at my door for us to return to Ardnoch the next day, I confessed to my wee sister that this was the best time I’d had in a long time.
She gaped at me, her brown eyes wide with uncertainty. “Uh-uh.”
Her denial wilted my smile. “I mean it,” I promised her. “Mor, I’ve had the best time ever. You’ll never know how much these last few weeks have meant to me.”
“Really?”
Mor was curled up with me on the couch and there wasn’t much distance between us. The summer weather that hit London when Fyfe visited had continued for most of Mor’s trip. But this past week, it had rained. A lot. We could hear it now, pinging off the floor-to-ceiling, black-framed loft windows. To cast off the damp chill, Mor had settled a throw over her knees. Her hands were under it so I couldn’t reach for them. Instead, I patted her arm. “Really.”
She bit her lower lip, eyes bright with unshed emotion. “It’s meant a lot to me too. Kids … kids at school would tease me about you. I didn’t know how to react because I felt like I didn’t know you.”
I frowned, hating that my job had put her in the crosshairs of shitty teenagers, but even more that she felt like she didn’t know her own sister. “I’m sorry.”
“But I know you now.” Her smile trembled. “I can tell them to get lost and stop talking about you because I know now that they’re misinformed.”
I didn’t even want to ask what gossip they were spreading. Probably just repeating the same garbage people posted online, only for a million people to share it as if it were the gospel truth.
My phone buzzed on the table, breaking the moment. Mor was closer to it. “I’ll get it.” She picked it up and raised an eyebrow before handing it over. “It’s Fyfe. Again.”
Ignoring the suspicion in my wee sister’s voice, I took the phone from her. My heart lurched unpleasantly.
Talk to me. Please.
Mor had seen that.
I tapped on the text and saw that was it. That’s all he’d said.
But above it was all the unanswered texts he’d sent over the past few weeks.
Basically all of them begged me to talk to him.
I couldn’t.
Fyfe Moray was my dream guy. And he’d finally made it clear that while he might find me physically attractive, there wasn’t anything about me that was special enough to warrant him falling for his best friend’s wee sister. Lewis was who he cared about.
“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
My eyes flew up from my phone.
Mor’s expression was soft. Sympathetic.
“What?” I gasped, feeling as if I’d had the breath knocked out of me.
“I remember.” Mor shrugged. “You … you never paid much attention to me, but I paid attention to you. Aye, I was just wee, but I remember you flirting with Fyfe. Lewis and everyone joke about it like it’s a cute story because you’re so flirty. But I always thought you meant it with Fyfe. And now”—she gestured to my phone—“it looks like something’s happened. And maybe that something is the reason why every time we have a quiet moment together, you look sad. I thought it was maybe because you’re miserable acting and you don’t want anyone to know for some reason. But now I think it might be Fyfe. Or both.”
A renewed sense of guilt hit me. I’d missed out on this. This perceptive, kind wee girl who saw me. Who clearly saw me … when no one else seemed to. And I’d abandoned her.
“Mor.” I blinked as a tear escaped.
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“No.” I shook my head, sniffling. “It’s … just … I’ve been such a shit sister to you. I’m sorry.” I pulled her into a tight hug. “I’m going to do better.”
Mor’s arms came around me. “Eils, this has been the best summer I’ve ever had. We’re good. I promise.”
I pulled back but only to cup her pretty face in my hands. “I love you.”
She smiled shyly and mumbled, “I love you too. Does that mean I’m right? About Fyfe? About your job?”
“I’m … I’m not sure I’m ready to talk about it.”
She lowered her gaze, perhaps upset.
I hurried to explain, “Everything just hurts a bit too much right now. But know that I’m grateful you see me.”
Seeming to understand, she nodded.
“You look so much like Mum.”
“Really?” A pleased flush hit her cheeks.
“So like her. I used to be so jealous you looked like her.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.” I released her and settled back against the couch.
“But you’re beautiful.”
“Thank you, sweetie. I think it was more about a connection to Mum, you know. I never knew my birth mother so Mum’s all I’ve ever known.”
Mor looked away, her smile falling. “Do … do you think about her? Your birth mum?”
Something about her tense demeanor worried me. “I … I do.”
“Did you ever ask Dad about her?”
“What do you mean? Like about who she was and stuff?”
She nodded, still not meeting my eyes.
“When I was younger, all the time. But when Mum came into our lives, I … I didn’t want her to feel like I didn’t accept her as my mum, so I stopped asking about Francine.”
Mor met my gaze again. “Aren’t you curious about her?”
“I did a little digging when I was your age,” I admitted, because I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not even Lewis. “I found out what her parents did for a living. Her parents died not long after Francine died. She didn’t have any siblings. There was very little information, to be honest. The rest I got from Dad when I was a kid. That Francine died of an aneurysm in her sleep. That they were university sweethearts. That they were in love. I guess that’s all I need to know.”
I felt sad about it. For her. That she’d missed so much. That I didn’t get a chance to know this person who made up half of my DNA. To know if there were reasons I was the way I was or if it was all nature or all Adair. I felt horrified for Dad and how it must have been to wake up to find her gone. I knew that must have scarred him forever.
But I also knew that Francine wasn’t the love of his life. Not that Dad had ever said so. He’d loved her, yes. He’d grieved her.
I knew firsthand that Dad was madly, desperately in love with Regan. I’d watched it happen as a child when she came into our lives as our aunt Robyn’s sister and then as our nanny.
For years, I’d secretly longed to find someone who would look at me the way my dad looked at Mum.
I grew up in a house with so much love, and I guess that’s all I needed to know.
“That’s it?” Mor asked. Her voice shook a bit.
Suspicion flickered through me. “Mor … do you know something?”
“I… I overheard something. And I thought maybe Lewis would have told you. Maybe he did and you don’t want to mention it to me.” Her expression was hopeful.
My stomach, however, was in knots. “Lewis hasn’t told me anything about our birth mother.”
Mor looked like she wanted the floor to open and swallow her. “I … I think this is something you should know, but I don’t want you to hate me for telling you.”
I grabbed her hand and squeezed. “I could never hate you.”
She nodded, biting her lip. After a few very long seconds, she spoke again. “I overheard Mum and Dad talking last year. Dad was telling Mum that he had a chat with Lewis about your birth mum. That he’d told Lewis the truth about Francine.”
Blood whooshed in my ears. “What truth?”
“That … that … well … there was some man who hurt you when you were a kid. Tried to take you.”
Sean McClintock.
Even though I was young when it happened, it had been so traumatizing I’d never forget it. Or his name. The same year Mum’s ex-friend tied us up in the annex, another man tried to kidnap me from school. Sean McClintock. Whenever I think back on that year, I’m amazed at my resilience as a child. Because that shit was fucked up.
And the man who’d come for me … Dad told me I looked like Sean’s daughter who’d died and he was a grieving widow and father who’d mistaken me for his lost child.
I’d tried to feel sympathy, but I’d watched him beat and punch at my mum while she protected me with her body, so it was difficult to feel anything but anger toward him.
“What about him?”
“He … he had an affair with your birth mum. They were teachers together.” Mor’s face paled as I reared in shock. “He tried to take you after his wife and kid died because he thought you were actually his.”
A crushing sensation on my chest made me gasp for breath. I wasn’t an Adair? I wasn’t Dad’s?
“You aren’t his!” Mor reached for me. “Eilidh, I heard Dad tell Lewis he got a DNA test. You’re Dad’s.”
Relief tore through me so rapidly, the emotional roller coaster so swift and volatile, I burst into tears.
“Oh, Eils, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No,” I sobbed. “Y-you sh-should h-have.” But that wasn’t true. The person who should have told me was my father. Or fucking Lewis! They’d kept this from me. My birth mother cheated on my dad with the man who attempted to kidnap me as a wee girl!
Through my tears, I saw Mor crying. I reached for her, pulling her into my arms. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”
“I’m s-sorry.” She hiccupped.
Soothing a hand over her back, I pressed a kiss to her temple, my tears miraculously settling at the sight of my sister’s. “Don’t be. Don’t be, sweetie. I’m okay. Please don’t cry.”
“I’m going to get in so much trouble for telling you. For eavesdropping.”
“No, you won’t. I’m not going to tell anyone.” Resentment flickered through me. Toward my dad. My brother. I didn’t understand why Dad would tell Lewis and not me. Lewis wasn’t the one Sean had come after. Or the one Dad had to get a DNA test for. Why would they hide this? “It’s our secret,” I promised her. “I won’t say a thing.”
At least not until I understood why they hadn’t trusted me with the truth.