Chapter 22
WHITE LINEN TABLECLOTHS drape the tables set up under the marquee.
The clouds have dispersed, gifting us a beautiful sunset, streaks of orange and purple stretching across the sky.
Twinkling lights hang from the pleached hornbeams and Dad stands before them, inspecting the bark and leaves and trying to impress Uncle Max.
Music plays from inside the manor, and the soft melodies trickle out into the garden.
I smooth the sleeve of my blouse, hoping Mum won’t notice the small tear at the elbow.
Adam walks towards me, the tips of his hair damp from his shower.
His white shirt highlights the swirls of white on my top and while I know it was unintentional, I love that we match.
Tonight we can pretend that we’re a couple who coordinate their outfits.
Handing me a glass of chardonnay, he sits down beside me, his arm brushing against mine. We can also pretend we’re a couple who indulge in those small, on instinct, touches. ‘Your dad was quizzing me on my knowledge of English trees.’
‘How’d you do?’
‘Failed miserably,’ he says, a frown tugging at his mouth.
‘Fake Adam would’ve nailed the quiz.’
‘Fake Sabrina would’ve swooped in to rescue her boyfriend from having to distinguish between a beech and a silver birch.’
‘Oh, come on, that’s an easy one. Everyone knows a silver birch has white bark that you can peel away.’
He blinks at me, unable to hide his surprise.
‘I learnt just enough about trees and plants to make him happy.’ The things I do for the one family member who’s never been disappointed in me.
‘Well, if I ever need descriptions of trees, I know who to come to.’
It’s my turn to fail at hiding my surprise. ‘I thought you did all your own research?’
Holding my gaze, he says, ‘I could make an exception.’
I try to ignore the quickening of my heart as he shuffles closer. I lean towards him like it’s the most natural thing in the world. ‘I guess you can be nice sometimes,’ I say.
He tilts his head, his mouth coming within a breath of my ear. ‘Told you so.’
‘You were supposed to say that I can be nice sometimes too.’
‘I’m many things, Sabrina, but a liar isn’t one of them.’ He winks, but it’s too late. I’ve already rammed my elbow into his side.
‘I guess I should run all future jokes past you before attempting them,’ he says.
‘I get to research trees and have approval over your jokes? I feel like I’ve died and gone to heaven.’
‘Huh.’ He takes a mouthful of his beer.
I wait, expecting him to elaborate. ‘What’s with the huh?’ I prod when the corners of his lips tick up into a smug smile that makes my heart beat way too quickly.
He leans in close, a hand coming to rest on my knee, amusement sparking in his eyes. His breath is a warm caress against my cheek. ‘I’m in your version of heaven.’ With that he walks away, joining Dad and Uncle Max under the branches of an ash tree.
I gulp at my chardonnay and watch him as he plucks a leaf from a low-hanging branch and rubs it between his fingers like it will turn him into an instant botanist. Dad stands at his shoulder, sniffing his own leaf before holding it up for a closer look.
He gives journals to my nieces, chocolate to me and pretends to care about trees for my dad. He’s either great at faking being a nice guy or he’s actually a decent human being.
Mum sits next to me, her eyes narrowing when she sees the tear on my sleeve. I was delusional to think she wouldn’t notice.
‘I brought my sewing kit, Sabrina,’ she says.
Nodding, I fold my hands in my lap, mentally kicking myself for wearing this blouse because now she’ll be forever dropping hints about needing a new wardrobe. Newsflash, Mum, I know I need a new wardrobe but clothes cost money and money is tight and needed for things like bills and loan repayments.
‘Adam!’ Mum’s voice cuts through the music. ‘Adam, come and sit with us.’
With an apologetic shrug at my leaf-inspecting dad, he slinks over and takes the seat beside me, his thigh brushing mine.
‘Sorry about Paul,’ Mum says, leaning across me to pat Adam’s hand. ‘He gets a little carried away with his trees. He’s always loved them, but since he retired it’s become a real passion of his. He’d talk about them for hours if we let him.’
Gabi drops into a chair across from us with a groan. ‘He does it even if we don’t let him. Is your dad tree-obsessed, Adam? Or does he have a normal hobby?’
‘Trees are normal,’ I mutter.
‘My grandfather was a stamp collector,’ Adam says and he wraps a hand around the watch on his wrist.
‘Stamps make more sense than trees. At least you can collect stamps and put them in albums. Trees are just…there,’ Gabi finishes as if that’s the matter closed.
‘Are you and your grandfather close?’ Mum asks. ‘Sabrina hasn’t told us much about your family.’
‘Much?’ Gabi laughs. ‘She hasn’t told us anything.’
‘Really?’ Adam turns to me, his eyes flickering with that same amusement they held earlier. ‘She hasn’t told you anything? I wonder why that is?’
No, Adam, you’re not in my version of heaven. You belong all the way south where flames will lick at your feet.
‘With her last boyfriend we got every damn detail of his life, right down to how he was distantly related to Swedish royalty. But you? She’s been oddly tight-lipped,’ Gabi says, flashing me a pointed look.
‘Well, that’s because I know how private he is,’ I blurt out. ‘He doesn’t even have social media,’ I add as though that explains everything.
He drapes his arm against the back of my chair, the tips of his fingers lightly touching my shoulder, and suddenly making me hyper aware of myself. And him. And every place that we’re touching or almost touching.
‘True. I do keep my life private,’ he says.
‘From your readers, of course, but we’re family,’ Mum says.
‘And in this family there are no secrets.’ The ice in Gabi’s glass tinkles as she rotates it.
‘No secrets,’ he repeats so softly that I almost miss it.
And then he shrugs, resigning himself to divulging personal information.
One way or another Mum will get the details from him—so it’s best to cave and spill before she begins an interrogation.
‘My parents had me young, we lived with my grandparents until I was in high school and then we moved into a place a couple of blocks away but I still went to my grandparents’ house every day after school and went with them on road trips and spent every minute I could with them.
So yes, Dianne, to answer your earlier question, I was very close to my grandfather. My grandmother too.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ Mum gushes. ‘They must be very proud of you.’
‘They were.’ A ghost of a smile crosses his face and I shift in my chair, moving closer to him, feeling a desperate need to provide him with some form of comfort as his eyes brighten. ‘They both passed away last year. Just a couple of months apart.’
‘Oh, Adam,’ Mum breathes, reaching over me to take his hand. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He swallows hard, eyes flicking to meet mine for a beat. That beat is long enough for me to see how deep that sadness stretches. ‘They’re the reason I moved back. I guess I thought that would make me feel close to them.’
My hand finds his knee and I squeeze it gently as my heart aches at the wistfulness in his voice. All this time he’s been grieving and I’ve just thought he was grumpy and rude. I truly couldn’t hate myself more in this moment.
‘An old friend of theirs reached out when she heard I was coming back and told me about an apartment coming up for lease in her building and…’ he trails off, his throat bobbing as he swallows.
Tears swim in Mum’s eyes as her hold on Adam’s hand tightens. ‘And then you met Sabrina. It’s fate.’
Fate. My stomach drops. He moved back for his grandparents and met me. The girl who threw up on him, criticised his life’s work and forced him to lie to my entire family. If I were him, I’d ask fate for a refund.
Adam picks up his laptop the second we return to the cottage and sits down on the sofa.
He was silent throughout dinner, seemingly lost in thought as my family chatted around him.
I wouldn’t have put it past Mum to spread word that her grilling of him took a sombre turn and they collectively decided to give him a break.
I stand in the doorway, studying his profile as his fingers rest on the keys, unmoving.
That sadness I’d seen in his eyes at dinner had brought back memories I’d been fighting hard to keep just that, memories.
When Mum called me with her diagnosis I swallowed the fear that rose to the surface and jumped into positive-Sabrina mode.
I researched holistic approaches and created new eating plans for her, I moved back home during her first round of chemo and lay in bed with her watching Clovedale.
I wore a smile and soldiered on because everything was going to work out in the end.
The thing about fear and pain and grief though is that you can only hold them down for so long.
One way or the other they will rise to the surface.
And when I returned to my apartment and saw that life had continued moving as though my world wasn’t upended, they rose with the ferocity of a raging storm, threatening to swallow me whole.
Days of sobs so severe my body shook and trembled as Hattie tried to hold me together.
Anxiety attacks so crippling I couldn’t get out of bed.
Despair so dark that I was terrified it would be my forever.
When Gabi mocks me for not taking anything seriously, I’m sometimes tempted to tell her what I went through.
I never do though. And I’ll never tell my parents either.
I’d prefer that they think I don’t take life’s hard knocks seriously than truly know how deeply I feel them.
Seeing that all-too-familiar suffering in Adam’s eyes tipped my world on its head. I need him to know that he isn’t alone. That if he falls apart, I can hold him together.