Her heart rolled at his thoughtfulness. He really was a true friend. “Thanks, but I’ve got no idea how today’s going to play out.”
“I get it. But I’m here if you need me. Don’t hesitate, okay?”
“Okay. And thanks for the coffee.”
“Too easy. Catch you later.” With a wave, he was out the door and jogging back to his car.
Alice’s phone buzzed and she opened the MMS. It was a lopsided attempt at a selfie of Harry and Brutus. The dog was wearing a regal black and gold brocade Martingale collar and the message read, Brutus dressed to impress. Thinking of you.
Alice laughed. But when she thought back to the previous night and how both dog and man had given her exactly what she needed, a fluttery feeling beat in her chest. She couldn’t quite decide if it was gratitude or something else entirely.
Karen stared out the window, watching the pewter ocean foam white under a gunmetal sky. The cold front that had moved in was lingering, a momentary return to winter after weeks of spring. It was almost as if the weather knew exactly how cold and dark things were inside her. How her worst fears had slipped their knot, releasing toxic secrets into the safe life she’d created and staining it a dirty blood red. Soon the girls would know the secret she’d dedicated her life to keeping so it couldn’t hurt anyone again.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she said yet again, as if it could change anything.
“But it has.” Peter’s hand touched her shoulder. “And the girls will be here soon.”
Telling the girls would tear her in two. Answering their questions might sink her. “Can’t I just tell Alice?”
“We’ve talked about this. We raised them as twins. We tell them together and we deal with the fallout together.” He took her hand. “Come on. I heard a car.”
“Hi, Mom.”
Libby kissed her, but Alice hung back, her eyes gray with shadows of anguish and pain. Karen would have done anything to erase them, but she was all too aware that by the end of the day she would have darkened those shadows to soot.
“I thought it might be nicer in the sunroom,” Peter said, leading the way there despite the gloomy sky.
“I don’t care where we sit.” Alice lowered herself stiffly onto the chaise longue. “I just want to know who and where are my parents.”
Peter winced. “Sweetheart, I know it’s difficult—”
“Difficult!” Alice shrieked. “It’s—”
“My fault,” Karen said jerkily. “I insisted we raise you as twins. Your father always thought we should tell you the truth.”
Libby glanced between them, her gaze searching. “Why didn’t you?”
Karen caught Alice’s hands. “I thought it was the only way I could protect you. I’d have given my life if I thought it would keep you safe.”
Alice’s hands ached under Karen’s iron-tight grip. “Who am I?”
“You’re my beautiful Alice. From the moment, I saw you, I loved you.”
Alice pulled away, angry that her beloved birth story was now tainted beyond recognition. “I don’t want the lie.”
“Ally-oop, it’s not a lie,” Peter said softly.
“Who is my mother?”
Karen’s fingers worked the lace on an old handkerchief like it was rosary beads. “My sister.”
“But you’re an only child,” Libby said, echoing Alice’s thought. “You were orphaned at seventeen when your parents died in a car accident …”
Karen took a sip of water. “I had an older brother, Damien and a younger sister, Lisa.”
Lisa. The name triggered something. Alice trawled her memory, not knowing exactly what she was searching for. She gave up—and immediately remembered.
“The Lisa you gave that copy of Anne of Green Gables?”
Karen nodded, her eyes fixed on Alice. “Like you, she adored those books. I used to read them to her.”
Alice felt a complicated mix of abandonment and grief, despite only just learning of Lisa’s existence.
“So, Alice and I are cousins,” Libby said.
“You’re sisters.” Karen’s voice cracked. “You were born on the same day and you’re our beloved daughters.”
Peter cleared his throat. “Girls, please hold the questions and give your mother and I some time to tell you how and why our family was formed.”
“But then you’ll answer our questions, right?” Libby asked in her very direct way—so much like Karen, so unlike Alice.
Peter glanced at Karen and she nodded. “To the best of our abilities.”
Alice looked at the woman she’d never once doubted was her mother, but who was her aunt, yet really her mother. Her head ached. “Please just start.”
“Lisa was my baby sister. Unfortunately, she was nine years younger than me. If we’d been closer in age, I might have … I’m sorry. Bear with me. I’ll try to précis.” Karen lifted her glasses and wiped her eyes. “My father was a charismatic but damaged man. He had long periods of being calm but then he’d explode without warning. This meant he inevitably lost his job and we’d be forced to move off whichever farm he’d been working on. Damien and I were a tight unit, knitted together by constant moving and having to start at new schools. We didn’t have friends but we had each other.”
Karen hauled in a deep and shuddery breath. “He died in a farm accident when I was eight and my life changed. My father moved us to the Dandenongs on the edge of Melbourne and my parents joined a church. Suddenly, there were three or four prayer meetings in the house during the week and Sundays were consumed by services. I was sent to Sunday School. None of it filled the hole left by Damien’s death but when Lisa arrived a year later, she brought the light back into my life. I adored her. My parents said she was a gift from God, but even then I struggled to make sense of a God who would take Damien away but then give us Lisa. Why couldn’t we
