Chapter 12
Twelve
Emma
Caleb being around has stirred up a lot of memories.
We haven’t gone on any outings together, but he has been here quite a lot these past few weeks.
The new deck is glorious.
I couldn’t wait once it was done to buy some outdoor furniture and give Jason the freedom of the back yard.
It’s been worth every cent to see the look on his face.
A barbecue sits on the deck not far from the door leading into the kitchen, ready for us to build new family memories that will last us a lifetime.
And I finally feel like we’ve made this a real home.
That doesn’t mean I don’t think of the past. In fact, Caleb’s presence triggers memories both good and bad, all of which have led us to here.
I can’t change the past, but I can recover from it and move forward.
He’s upstairs today, replacing Jason’s bedroom door that had seen better days. Whoever had that bedroom clearly had posters or something nailed into it, and the wood was all chipped and broken in some parts.
I stand at the base of the stairs when a memory hits me so hard, I gasp.
Malcolm sneers at me. “I own you.”
I’m clutching Bailey in my arms and it’s only that newborn smell that keeps me centred.
“I can’t do this anymore. Please, let me go. Do the decent thing.”
He steps closer. “Do you honestly think I’ll let you keep my children? They belong with me.”
“Noah’s not yours.” Tears run down my cheeks. It’s taken me years to get up the courage to stand up for myself, and my resolve crumbles when he’s right in front of me. “The courts …”
“I’m on Noah’s birth certificate. And do you really think they’ll let an unstable, hysterical woman keep a baby?”
His words hit their target. It’s him and his warped idea of love that make me hysterical. He’s in control and my brain is so muddled.
“Now.” He reaches out and tucks a stray strand of hair behind my ear. “Stop being silly. I’ll take Bailey and you go back to bed and rest.”
He takes the baby from my arms. I don’t fight. He’s right. I have no one in my corner.
Nine years after we married, he decided it was time to have a baby. No sooner was she born than he turned our world upside down and moved us from the church community to a big house in a Christchurch suburb.
As much as I hated the church, I’m so isolated here.
I thought leaving would mean freedom.
But I was so wrong.
It’s these memories that keep tripping me up. He can never abuse me again—never say nasty things about me, never criticise me, and never make me do things I don’t want to. But Malcolm Nichols casts a long shadow over my life.
I close my eyes. The steady work sound from upstairs grounds me. I’m here. I’m safe. Caleb’s working on replacing the door while Jason’s at school.
Rap. Rap. Rap.
Who could that be? I don’t know anyone here yet, and I can’t think of anyone who would visit.
I pause in front of the door.
Caleb’s in the house. I’m safe.
Reaching for the handle, I draw in a deep breath. My life feels like a series of challenges right now, and this is just another one.
I pull open the door.
He’s older, his beard white with age, but the man standing in front of me is undeniably my father.
“Dad? What are you doing here?”
I didn’t think of him tracking me here—didn’t think he’d bother. He didn’t come to the house in Christchurch, and I deliberately didn’t put Malcolm’s death in the paper. I didn’t want to risk him finding out before we left.
He looks me up and down and sneers. “I thought I’d find out what you’d bought with Malcolm’s money. You know, the money that was supposed to go to the church.”
I swallow hard. “He left everything to me and the children.”
“We both know that’s not what he intended. We’ll be contesting the will of course.”
I shrug. “If you want to waste your money.”
I fist my hands. Caleb’s in the house somewhere. I know I’m safe. But the loving home I once lived in became filled with fear once we moved away, thanks to my father. And the longer he stands on my doorstep, the more those old fears creep in.
“I have a lawyer too. And I know my rights,” I say.
His eyes narrow. “I’m sure the authorities would love to know how unstable you are. And with children in the house. They need to be with their grandparents in a safe community.”
Unstable.
For a moment, the word knocks me. But I’m all my children have, and I’m not about to let another man bully me.
“You have nothing.”
“Hand over everything you were left from Malcolm, and I won’t take it further. You know he was supposed to give it all to the church before he joined.”
“You’d leave me with nothing?”
He steadies his gaze. “Like I said, your children need to be with us. We’ll provide for them.”
“You have nothing to do with us. Not anymore.”
“I could make your life very difficult.”
What happened to my father? The man who used to love and protect me when I was a child? My heart cracks open a little bit more as I take in the sight of this stranger in front of me.
I steel my spine. “Get off my property.”
“Emma? Is everything alright?”
Caleb’s voice comes from the top of the stairs, and Dad blanches. Caleb’s Ute is in the back yard. Dad must’ve thought I was alone.
“I’ll go for now. But this isn’t over.”
“Oh, it is.”
I close the door on him just as Caleb reaches the base of the stairs. “I’m finished for the day. Door’s all done.” He meets my gaze. “Hey. What’s going on?”
I’m shaking so hard, my teeth chatter.
“Oh, shit. Come here.”
Caleb wraps his arms around me, and I close my eyes, resting my head on his shoulder.
For a moment, we stand in silence, his warmth pressed against mine, and the tension rolls out of my shoulders.
He leads me into the living room and guides me to the couch where we sit.
“What’s caused this?”
Tears well in my eyes.
“My … It was my father at the door.”
“Your father? What the hell is he doing here? I don’t think you’ve told me the whole story.”
Shaking my head, I bury deeper into him, sliding my arms around his chest.
“Let me in,” he whispers. “Tell me everything you’re holding back. I can’t help you if I don’t know.”
“I’m not asking for your help.”
He chuckles. “You always were stubborn.”
I know that I need to open up, and Caleb is the only person I can talk to about this.
“There’s … there’s just so much.”
I’ve been so strong for everyone else, and now I need to be strong for me.
The front door opens with a click. “Mum? Was that Grandad driving away? He looked pissed. Are you okay?”
I wriggle out of Caleb’s arms and step back. He looks at me, confused, his brow furrowed.
“I’m fine,” I call out.
I’m not fine.
I thought I had some time to tell Caleb—to ease him into this, but all that shatters as Noah steps through the doorway.
“Mum?”
Caleb’s eyes are glued to my son—our son.
I know what he sees. I’ve seen it every day for the past twenty-six years.
Noah could be Caleb’s twin.
There’s nothing of me in there, and Malcolm resented it every single day.
“I’m fine,” I say, my eyes fixed on my son.
He frowns, his gaze flicking between me and Caleb. He sees it—he must. There’s no mistaking it.
“We really need to have that conversation.” Caleb’s tone is terse. I didn’t want to keep it from him—always meant to tell him. But then he was there, and it knocked me sideways.
And Noah?
Noah needs to be a part of this conversation.
“What’s going on?” Noah asks.
He knew he wasn’t Malcolm’s. That much was obvious. But I never told him who his father was. I wanted to tell Caleb first and then in every single fantasy I had about that moment, we told Noah together.
That’s not what’s about to happen.
“I think we all need to talk,” I croak. “Before the others come home.”
“Want me to put the jug on?” Noah asks.
“I think that’s a very good idea,” Caleb says.
Noah eyes Caleb warily, but he nods and heads into the kitchen.
Caleb turns back to me. “Now I know you haven’t told me everything.”
“I’m sorry. I thought I had more time.”
His eyes blaze with anger and I shrink back before he realises what he’s done and reaches for my hand.
“I’m sorry too. This must be really hard.”
I need to tell him everything—I already knew that. But now it’s all bubbling at the surface. There are things I can’t and won’t say in front of Noah. Those things can wait.
Noah pops his head around the doorway.
“How do you take your coffee?” Noah looks at Caleb. “Sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“It’s Caleb,” Caleb croaks, his gazed fixed on Noah. “Black, one sugar.”
“Caleb.” Noah nods before giving him a quick smile and going back to the kitchen. The resemblance is too strong for him to miss.
My stomach churns.
“This isn’t how I wanted you to find out.”
“I’m sure.”
I meet his stare. He’s wary, but if there’s anger there, he’s keeping it hidden. Maybe it’s because he’s seen how shaken I am.
Maybe he’s saving it until it builds and bursts out of him.
No. Caleb’s not like that. He’s not Malcolm.
We sit in silence while Noah makes the coffee. I didn’t expect him home this early—he’s been working full-time.
I should have been more prepared.
“Here you go.” Noah juggles three mugs in his hands and places them on the coffee table. He slides one toward Caleb before joining us on the couch.
“Thanks,” Caleb leans forward and pulls the mug closer.
“I know this is a shock,” I say slowly. “I wanted to ease you both into this.”
Caleb’s jaw tightens.
“After we moved, I realised I was pregnant. My parents were livid.” I shift my gaze to Caleb. “Of course it was you. It couldn’t be anyone else.”
His brows knit.
“Mum. It’s okay.” Noah reaches over and places his hand on mine. “I don’t think you have to defend yourself when it comes to any of this. It wasn’t your fault.”
“He’s right, Emma. I don’t doubt the baby was mine.”
I blink back tears and continue. “Malcolm had befriended my father. He offered to take me off their hands. Dad was all too happy to do it.”
“You weren’t left with a choice,” Caleb says.
I shake my head. “I was sixteen and isolated from everything I’d ever known. They told me what was happening—there was no asking. If I’d been able to reach out, I would have, but—”