Chapter Twenty-Two
Zoe
On Friday night, when I finally arrive at my parents’ house, I discover that Hannah and George have both come around to see me, so we’re all together for the first time in months. Olivia and Rory finally go to bed around ten, but Hannah and George stay until late, and then as soon as they leave, Dad heads off to where he’s sleeping in George’s old room until he moves to Auckland, following which Mum announces she’s also going to bed. I suspect it’s because she knows I want to have a conversation, but I don’t push it because I’m shattered, too. I head off to my flat, intending to see her the next morning.
Unfortunately, it’s only when I text her the following day that she tells me she’s leaving early to drive Olivia’s netball team to a match. Rory’s going over to a friend’s for the day, so I end up on my own. Restless, I wander around the shops, then go home for a while, but I can’t settle to anything, and I’m relieved when Mum finally texts to say she’s back home.
I pull up outside the house in my Toyota and sit there for a moment. I look at my phone. Joel has texted me a couple of times today to say he’s in Hanmer Springs, and have I made a decision about whether I’d like to join him there? I haven’t replied yet. I miss him more than I thought I would. But I’m so mixed up with emotions that I’m afraid seeing him again will force my hand in a way that’s not good for me long term.
Besides, I have other things on my mind.
Eventually, I lever myself out of the car, walk up the path and around the house, and find Mum hanging out Olivia’s netball kit that she’s obviously just washed.
“Hey,” Mum says.
“Hey. How did the game go?”
“Yeah, good, they won comfortably.”
I sit on the deck step, my feet on the lawn. “Where is she?”
“In her room, relaxing.”
“And Rory?”
“Watching Top Gun: Maverick for the billionth time.”
I smile. He’s wanted to fly since he was a toddler.
She picks up the empty basket. “You staying for dinner? I’m making pizzas.”
“Mum? Come and sit with me for a bit.”
She hesitates, then perches on the edge of a chair. She’s wearing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts that seem to hang on her thin frame. She’s lost weight over the past few months, and she looks tired and unhappy. I feel a stab of guilt; I should have been more supportive of her as her marriage broke down, but I’ve been caught up in my own life, and I haven’t been around as much as I should have.
I take a deep breath. “Mum, I want to talk to you about Dad. I want to beg you not to get divorced.”
Her expression softens. “Sweetheart, I know it’s hard for you, but our marriage is over, and you have to come to terms with it.”
“He still loves you, though. I know he does.”
She reaches out and holds my hand. “Maybe. But I don’t love him anymore. I’m tired of all the arguments. I could have twenty or thirty years left of my life, and I don’t want to spend it with someone I don’t love. I deserve to be happy, don’t I?”
I swallow hard. “Yes. But isn’t marriage about duty and loyalty as well? You promised to stay with him for the rest of your life.”
She moves back, her expression hardening. “I know. You don’t have to remind me. I know I’m breaking my vows. It’s not easy for me, Zo. It’s hard enough without you laying on the guilt with a trowel.”
She’s obviously not going to change her mind, so I move onto my next grievance. “In that case, I want to talk to you about your move to Darwin.”
She stiffens. “We’ve been through this. Grandma’s seventy-five now, and you know she hasn’t been well. I want to be there to support her more.”
“I understand that. I get why you want to go. And Olivia seems happy to go with you. But Mum… Rory really doesn’t want to go.”
“I know,” she says. “But kids adapt to change well. He’ll be fine.”
I meet her eyes, which are brown like my other siblings’. Rory is the only one who has green eyes like me.
“Mum,” I say, “you can’t take him away from me.”
We study each other for a long moment. A bee buzzes around the begonias, and two butterflies flutter past us, locked in their own private dance. In the distance, a lawnmower roars into action. Even though it’s early, I can smell barbecued food on the air—someone’s cooking their breakfast outside. It’s like the essence of summer, which usually makes me feel happy, but right now all I feel is a quiet despair.
“I’m not taking him away from you,” she says eventually. “You mustn’t see it like that.”
I swallow hard. “It’s hard to see it any other way.”
“I have to do what I think is best for me, Olivia, and Rory.”
“Staying here might not be best for you, or even Olivia, but you can’t tell me it’s not best for Rory to be near his real mother.”
Her lips part, but no words come out. It’s the first time I’ve ever admitted that I gave birth to Rory. I can see how shocked she is.
“ I’m his real mother,” she says eventually, her voice a furious whisper. “We agreed that nine years ago. You were his birth mother. It’s not the same thing.”
Fury blasts through me. “I didn’t agree to anything. I was fourteen, Mum.”
Fourteen is incredibly young to discover you’re pregnant. Especially when it happened at a party, where you had a one-night stand with a Year Thirteen guy because you were flattered he found you attractive, and he thought you were sixteen, and you didn’t even know his name, and you didn’t even really understand what was going on until it was too late and the deed was done—without a condom. And then afterward you tried to ignore what was happening for so long that when your parents eventually found out, it was too late to do anything about it. And especially when your mother was religious and a pillar of the community.
“I’d been through a horrendous operation,” I add, “and I was mentally unstable.”
“That’s why we made the decision to bring him up as our own.”
“I understand why you thought it might be best for everyone,” I say carefully. “But I’ve had to live my whole life feeling as if I have one foot in an alternate dimension. I went through the trauma of childbirth… I lost my womb… and I have nothing to show for it. You have no idea what that’s done to me.”
“I know it’s been hard for you…”
“No, Mum, you really don’t.” Tears prick my eyes. I try to hold them back, because I don’t want to cry—I want to stay strong and in control. “I’ve had to keep this secret for nine years, and when I did eventually tell the man I loved—or thought I loved—he dropped me as if I was something disgusting he found on his shoe.”
Her brow creases. “That’s why you broke up with Charles?”
I don’t reply. I wanted him to understand, and to tell me that what happened to me back then was wrong, and that I was right to feel angry about it. When he didn’t, when he looked horrified and disappointed in me, and he walked away, I didn’t think I’d ever recover.
I think of Joel now, and take a deep, shivery breath. What would his reaction be? I’m so afraid to tell him because I don’t want to lose him, too.
I let the breath out slowly. I don’t want to argue with Mum. That’s not why I came here today. “Look, I want to talk about what happens now. I think it’s time we told Rory the truth.”
“No.” She makes a slashing gesture with her hand. “Absolutely not.”
“He deserves to know.”
“Zoe! You have to put him first. Will it be best for him to know that the woman he’s always thought of as his mum actually isn’t? That the girl he thought of as his sister is actually his mother? That she got pregnant and gave birth at fourteen? And couldn’t deal with it all? That she went off the rails and was unable to bring him up? Don’t you think that’s going to completely screw with his mind? Do you really want to put him in therapy at the age of nine?”
My face flushes at the harshness of her words. “‘The truth will set you free.’ It’s in the Bible, Mum. ‘The Lord detests lying lips,’ right?”
It’s her turn to flush. She can hide behind the declaration that she made the decision to adopt Rory because I was unable to cope, but we both know the real reason was because the thought of admitting to her church and her friends that her daughter had given birth at fourteen was too much for her. We’ve never spoken about it, but she took me away to her parents in Darwin when she discovered I was pregnant, as if I was a character in Downton Abbey facing shame in local society. When we came back to Wellington, she carried the baby as if it was hers, and she and my father adopted him quietly just a few months after that.
Because the fact that I’d given birth was kept a secret, I didn’t receive any therapy. That wasn’t to say my parents weren’t loving and caring. They looked after me, and luckily I recovered well from the surgery. They kept me busy and encouraged me to work hard and see my friends. But I recovered by blocking out what had happened. By pretending I hadn’t given birth to a baby boy who I wasn’t allowed to call my own.
As an adult, I considered finding my own therapist, but in the end I decided not to go. I wasn’t sure of the legal implications, and honestly I wasn’t sure how I’d feel raking over those coals again. I just wanted to forget… But of course events like this don’t stay buried. They’re like shrapnel, and they always work their way to the surface eventually.
“I don’t want Rory to know,” Mum says. “He’s happy and healthy, and I know going to Darwin will be a challenge, but he’ll be just fine. You can come and visit us whenever you want, and we’ll be back from time to time.”
“I don’t want to see my son once in a blue moon, Mum.”
“He’s not your son,” she hisses. “He’s your brother. I want you to stop saying things like that. He might overhear.”
Misery overwhelms me, and it makes me reckless. I blink back tears, lift my chin, and say, “I might just tell him. You can’t stop me.”
She glares at me, furious. “Get out,” she says eventually.
I stare at her. “What?”
“Go home. I don’t want you here anymore.”
My jaw drops. “We have to talk about this.”
“No, we don’t.” She gets to her feet. “Go on, go.”
“Mum!”
But she remains standing, absolutely livid, and eventually I rise, too. Without saying another word, I pick up my car keys and walk away, around the house and back to my car.
I drive back to my flat, go upstairs to the flat, and walk into my bedroom. I lie back on the bed, and only then do I start to tremble.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I take it out, wondering if it’s my mum, but it’s Joel.
How are you doing, sweetheart? he asks. I miss you! Are you coming down tomorrow? I’d love to see you.
My eyes fill with tears. I miss him so much. I think about his reaction when I told him I couldn’t have children, and how supportive he was. I just want to be with you , he said. But then he didn’t know all of it.
So what do I do now? If I don’t tell him, it’s going to remain an invisible barrier between us. I think he already suspects there’s more to the story. Honey, have you told me everything? he asked me when I told him in the cabin. Eventually he’ll wheedle it out of me because that’s what he does, so doesn’t it make sense to tell him? If it is going to end our relationship, it would be better to do it now and get it over with.
I text back, Hey you, yes I’ll come down tomorrow .
He comes back immediately, Great! I’m so pleased. Ten a.m. flight from Wellington to Christchurch? I’ll pick you up at the airport and drive you home.
Me: Okay, thank you.
Joel: How are you doing? How are your parents?
Tears run down my face. Yeah, all good. I’ll see you tomorrow.
I turn off my phone and toss it on the bedside table. Then I roll over and bury my face in the pillow, and let the tears come.
*
I cry myself to sleep, wake up in the night, and cry some more. It’s as if all the resentment, bitterness, and rage that has been simmering like a saucepan of milk on the stove for the past nine years is finally boiling over. My eyes feel hot and scalded, my throat is raw, and my nose is completely blocked, but still the tears won’t stop.
They had no right to take my son away from me. Yes, I was a fool to get pregnant so young. And I understand how it came as a complete shock to them, and why they reacted like that. But that doesn’t excuse what they did.
I cry for the baby I gave birth to and never got to hold, not as his mother, anyway. I cry for my lost womb, and for the fact that I can never give birth to another child. I cry for my lost innocence, not because I blame anyone else for what I did, but because I’m angry at myself, and at God or Fate or whoever’s in charge up there. I cry for Charles, because I did love him, and his failure to understand and support me absolutely crushed me. And I cry because I’m afraid Joel will do the same, and I’m so, so scared to tell him all of it in case it changes the way he feels about me.
In the end, I fall asleep out of exhaustion, my face wet, tissues crumpled in my hand.
The next time I wake, it’s seven a.m. I go into the bathroom, look at myself in the mirror, and shudder. I look awful. But there’s time to repair the damage. I take a shower, blow dry my hair, then spend some time applying my makeup, using foundation to cover my blotchy cheeks and the dark shadows under my eyes, and applying my usual dark eyeliner and mascara. By the time I’ve finished, I look presentable enough.
I’m not sure how long Joel’s expecting me to stay in Hanmer Springs, so I pack a bag with a few changes of clothes, then lock up the apartment and catch an Uber to the airport.
I’d assumed that Joel had booked with Air New Zealand, but the sweetheart has organized another charter flight, and I have a whole plane to myself. Trying not to think about the environment, I accept a coffee and a muffin from the flight attendant, curl up in my chair, and spend the flight looking out of the window at the Southern Alps and the Canterbury Plains as they pass below me.
Even though Wellington is right at the bottom of the North Island, and it’s a relatively short journey on the ferry across the Cook Strait, I don’t travel to the South Island much. Elora goes there often to visit her folks, but most of my family is in Wellington, and although I might make a trip to Auckland once in a while, or to the Bay of Islands for a holiday, I rarely go south. It makes a change, therefore, to look out at the vast, stunning landscapes so reminiscent of The Lord of the Rings movie, to see the mountains and the fields, and some of the twenty-five million sheep in the country.
It’s funny to think that Joel, Fraser, and Elora grew up down here. I’ve heard stories of their adventures in the mountains over the years, the ‘adventure therapy’ they used to go on with their parents, and the children they met at Greenfield Residential School for troubled adolescents. I know now that Linc was one of those, although Elora didn’t tell me about him until a week ago, when he arrived back in the country. It’s strange that we’ve been so close, and yet neither of us has told each other everything about our pasts. I guess despite the passage of time, some things remain too fresh and too raw to expose to the bitter air.
The plane lands in Christchurch just after eleven, and when I exit the gate, the first person I see is Joel, hands in the pockets of his jeans, waiting for me.
At the sight of him, my heart lifts in a way it hasn’t in such a long time, shocking me with how happy I feel. Leaving my case, I run up to him and throw my arms around his neck, and he lifts me up and spins me around, laughing.
“Hey you,” he says, lowering me back down. His blue eyes are alight with pleasure at the sight of me—he’s happy to see me.
“Hey.” I force a smile onto my face, even though tears prick my eyes again. Jesus. What’s wrong with me?
He takes my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. “How are you doing?” he asks softly.
“I’m fine,” I reply brightly, turning away to collect my case. “So what’s been going on in your world?”
He jogs to catch up with me as I head for the exit, and gestures across the road to the car park. “Yeah, it’s been busy. Fraser and I heard from Linc on Friday night.”
“Oh?”
“He asked if we’d fly down and meet him at Hanmer Springs on Saturday. He wanted moral support because he was going to ask Dad for permission to marry Elora.”
My jaw drops. “What?”
He grins. “I know. We were just as shocked. We had no idea how it was going to go. The last time he saw Dad, Dad told him if he ever saw him again he’d call the police.” He gestures at a Range Rover and clicks the button to unlock it, then picks up my case and places it in the boot. I slip into the passenger side, and he gets behind the wheel. He starts the engine and heads toward the state highway.
“So how did it go?” I ask.
“Linc and Dad went out for a walk. I don’t quite know what Linc said, but he managed to talk Dad around somehow, because he gave his permission, and when they got back, Linc proposed.”
“And she accepted?”
“She did.”
I feel a sweep of joy. “Oh my God, that’s absolutely fantastic.”
He grins at me. “Yeah, it’s pretty good news.”
“So what happens now? Wasn’t he due to fly out on Monday?”
“Yeah, but he’s canceled the flight. He’s asked her to consider moving to the UK with him. She’s thinking about it.”
I press a hand to my heart. “Oh…”
“I know. It would be hard for all of us. But I actually think it would be really good for her, allow her to spread her wings, you know?”
I nod slowly. “Yes, of course. I’d miss her terribly, though.”
“I know. You’d just have to make sure you had something else to distract you.” He gives me a mischievous smile.
I return it, then look out of the window. My heart picks up speed at the thought of all the change that’s happening right now. I hate the way everything feels so out of control, including me. I’m pleased for Elora, of course. I can’t wait to see her and congratulate her on being proposed to. It was clear how strong her feelings for Linc were, and it’s such an incredibly romantic story.
But I’m going to miss her so much if she goes. The last few years at the museum with her and Hallie have been such fun.
As if he’s reading my mind, Joel says, “By the way, Fraser and Hallie have been seeing one another.”
My jaw drops for the second time that morning. “What?”
He laughs. “I know. I saw Hallie’s jacket in our apartment yesterday, and when I mentioned it, he didn’t deny it.”
“Oh my God! Is it serious?”
“You know Fraser. He said something flippant when I asked him, then added that he was working on it. He’s liked her for a long time, I think, but he wouldn’t make a move on her while she was with Ian.”
“Like you with me and Charles?”
He shrugs. “We were brought up to be respectful. Sometimes I wonder if that can be interpreted as not being interested though. Maybe it’s better to just take what you want.”
I think about Rory, and my stomach flutters. All these years, maybe my parents have interpreted the fact that I haven’t complained about what happened as acceptance. That I’m happy with how things have turned out. Maybe it’s better to just take what you want . Is that the case? Should I upset the applecart, even though it’s bound to cause pain and anguish to everyone concerned?
“Do you think the Bible is right that the truth will set you free?” I ask softly.
Joel doesn’t speak for a moment, taking the State Highway, leading north out of the city. “I don’t know,” he says eventually. “Theoretically, and morally, I guess the answer’s yes. When in doubt, it’s easier to speak the truth. But are there times when it’s best to lie? Or to keep the truth to oneself? Perhaps.” He glances at me. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Maybe later, if that’s okay.”
He nods. “All right. Let’s get home. Then we’ll go out into the forest, and maybe then you’ll feel ready to talk.”