Quiet Longing (Quiet Love #2)

17.

Charli

Something had happened. I could sense it in the tension in Rhys’ shoulders, the way he seemed to need my touch more than ever before. I continued stroking his hair, seeing how it eased something in him. A few minutes later, I saw he’d fallen asleep, and my heart melted.

Maybe he was just exhausted from all the shifts he’d been doing at the hotel. Plus, I knew his parents were signing the divorce papers soon. He had a lot to deal with, and it didn’t help that I’d been seeking him out so much.

Sex was a revelation, and Rhys and I had been having a lot of it. I wasn’t on any kind of birth control, but we kept the local pharmacy in business with the amount of condoms we’d been buying. I’d confessed to Nuala that Rhys and I had lost our virginity to one another, swearing her to secrecy. She’d been giddy but also curious. She’d wanted to know what it felt like. I’d been honest and told her the first time hurt, but that it got better after that.

Man, had it gotten better.

Rhys and I were like students learning a new subject. There was a freedom in him being just as inexperienced as I was. We didn’t need to be embarrassed or shy about what we didn’t know. We could simply … explore. And we’d been doing some serious exploration, let me tell you. The look on his face the first time he’d stripped off my clothes and found I was wearing the sexy lingerie I’d bought was permanently etched into my mind. I didn’t ever want to forget that look.

Placing my e-reader aside, I clicked off the lamp and settled in next to him. No one aside from Nuala typically came into my bedroom unannounced, so it was safe for Rhys to stay over. Besides, he’d typically wake up early and sneak back to Derek’s room.

When I woke up the next morning, though, he was still there, sleeping soundly beside me. I kissed his temple then crawled out of bed and went to shower.

My mom was arriving in a couple hours, and I was excited but also a little nervous to see her. Would she notice the change in me? Would she be able to tell I’d been sleeping with a kind, caring Irish boy who made my heart flutter whenever our eyes locked? And what exactly was she going to tell me when we finally sat down to talk about the big thing she and Padraig fought over?

Rhys was awake by the time I emerged from the shower, my wet hair wrapped up in a towel while another was secured around my body. I expected him to say something sexy at my state of undress, perhaps pull me over to the bed and start kissing me while he divested me of my towel, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat up, a troubled look on his face.

“My dad was arrested last night,” he stated, and my stomach dropped.

I stepped close to the bed and sat down next to him, taking his hand in mine and linking our fingers. “Does that mean he signed the papers? Did you finally go to the police?”

Rhys had explained to me why he’d been waiting to go forward with the footage of his father attacking him. I hadn’t liked the idea of postponing, but I understood his reasoning. His mother needed that divorce.

“I did, but that wasn’t why he was arrested. He’d been down the pub, ‘celebrating the divorce’,” he replied glumly. “Started telling everyone the drinks were on him, and then when they refused to let him set up a tab, he started smashing the place up.”

“Oh my God,” I squeezed his fingers, my belly twisting. Poor Rhys.

“Padraig thinks he’ll get at least two years, possibly three or four.” He fell quiet, exhaling heavily. “I just want him gone. Mam and me need a break. The chaos he brings into our lives … it’s fucking exhausting. I can’t deal with it anymore.”

“Rhys,” I whispered softly, empathy swelling in my chest as I pressed a kiss to his cheek then wrapped my arms around him. I hugged him tight, and we stayed like that for a while. Somewhere along the way, he started kissing me, his lips on my shoulder then my neck. Before I knew it, I was flat on my back on the bed, the towel spread wide as Rhys kissed his way down my body.

“Wait,” I breathed. “We can’t. I have to get ready. My mom’s arriving this morning, and I’m going to the airport to meet her.”

Rhys’ disappointed expression made me chuckle. He was too cute. “Oh, man, you love doing that so much, don’t you? Whatever lucky woman gets to marry you someday is in for a real treat.” Both my friends, Gwyn and Lydia, had been sexually active, and neither of them had mentioned their boyfriends being as enthused to go downtown as Rhys always was.

“I just really like doing it to you ,” he answered back, an odd expression on his face at my statement about his future wife. Maybe it was difficult to think that far ahead or to believe in marriage at all after how his parents had ended up. Unbidden, something pinched at my chest to imagine Rhys years into the future, creating a life with someone else. I’d be a long forgotten, perhaps fond, memory. The girl he’d lost his virginity to that one summer in Dublin.

“We don’t have time,” I said, pushing away the strange jealousy I felt thinking of Rhys being married to some woman who wouldn’t be me. “Also, aren’t you going running with Derek this morning?”

Ever since his injuries had healed, Rhys had been exercising with my cousin almost every day. I was pretty sure he’d already lost a couple pounds. Although that could just as easily be from all the sex we were having. It was very effective cardio.

With a parting kiss, he went. My heart clenched watching him go. With the divorce papers signed and his father arrested, I hoped life was going to get better for Rhys going forward.

Later, I stood at Arrivals at the airport waiting for Mom. Uncle Padraig had offered for his driver, Stephen, to bring me, but I’d insisted on getting the bus. As soon as she stepped through the gates, I ran for her, hugging her tight.

“It’s so good to see you,” Mom breathed.

“You, too,” I replied. “I’ve missed you like crazy.”

We took a cab back to the house since I wasn’t going to subject my mother to public transport after her long plane journey. Aunt Jo and Nuala were home, and even Uncle Padraig came back on his lunch break to welcome her. I was oddly emotional seeing Mom reunited with her brother, especially since they’d fought for so long. Aunt Jo seemed friendly but reserved. There was also something tense in the set of Padraig’s shoulders that put me on edge. I started to fret that they were all keeping something monumental from me, but I couldn’t fathom what it might be.

I was on a knife’s edge by the time we finished lunch. Mom asked if I’d come with her for a walk on the beach. I got the sense she was readying herself for the big conversation. My mom wasn’t the most laidback person, but I’d also never seen her so tense, which only functioned to increase my worrying.

We strolled across the strand for a few minutes in quiet before she spoke. “Charlotte, I have something I need to talk to you about.” She sounded stressed. When I glanced at her hands, I saw they were shaking.

“Mom? What’s wrong? You’re pale.”

She motioned to a bench up near the grassy area. “Maybe we should go sit up there.”

I nodded, following her to the bench, but then when we sat, she still didn’t speak.

“You’re making me worry,” I said, twisting to face her and taking her hand in mine. “Whatever it is, you can just tell me. I’m sure it’s not as bad as—”

“I’m not your mother,” she whispered in a choked voice, cutting me off, and my mouth fell open. I wasn’t sure how long I’d been staring at her when I finally found my voice, my words disbelieving, “What are you talking about? Of course, you are.”

She shook her head, a tear spilling down her cheek. My heart raced, and my brain refused to comprehend.

“This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, and it’s all my own fault,” Mom continued, and I sat, frozen and silent, listening to her speak. “I’m a terrible person, Charlotte, really. I’ve been incredibly selfish.”

“You’re not selfish. I’m sure if you just explain, then I can try to understand,” I said, my pulse racing so fast I felt like I wasn’t in my own body.

She wasn’t my mother? What did that even mean?

Mom sucked in a deep breath and started talking. “Before I met your father, I’d been in a long-term relationship with a man named Lionel. He was a good, kind man. We’d been trying for a baby, but it turned out my chances of getting pregnant were low. I had fertility issues, but Lionel and I were determined to keep trying. It eventually put a strain on us both. The relationship suffered, and we broke up. Around the same time, your father was seeing one of your Aunt Jo’s sisters, the youngest one, Nadine.”

At this, my world flipped upside down. It literally felt like the bench I sat on was spinning.

“Dad was with Nadine? I don’t understand. Didn’t she die?” My mind went back to that photo I saw of Jo and all her sisters, Nuala telling me about each of her aunts.

Mom sniffed and nodded, more tears falling. “She was a few months pregnant when Lionel and I separated. I only knew about it because Jo and my brother offered for me to stay with them while I found a new flat. Jo confided in me that her sister was having a baby, but she had some mental health issues that seemed to be worsening.”

“She had schizophrenia,” I said, my voice sounding far away even to my own ears. “Nuala told me.”

“Yes, she received the diagnosis midway through her pregnancy. Awful news. It threw the poor woman into a tailspin.” My mind raced forward, piecing the story together and feeling sick when I saw the direction it was heading. “Jo and her entire family were worried about her, about the baby. After Nadine gave birth, her state grew even worse, and she disappeared from the hospital. No one knew where she went. The following week, she was found in a hostel a few towns away, but—”

“She took her life,” I whispered, my voice choked, and Mom nodded. My entire body was shaking with adrenaline when I went on, “I was her baby?”

Again, she nodded, growing even paler as her eyes met mine. “Your father was alone, his partner had just died, and there was this tiny baby who needed to be cared for. Jo stepped in and offered to mind you for a few weeks while he grieved, but her youngest sister had committed suicide, and she was grieving, too. So, I took over.” She paused to squeeze my hand, tears in her eyes, before she continued recounting the story.

“I took care of you while they all dealt with their grief, and I fell head over heels in love with you, Charlotte. You were the best thing I’d ever known. I knew I’d never have my own child, but getting that chance to love someone else’s was everything to me. Then your father emerged from his mourning. He was so thankful to me for caring for you, and I think he saw how much I loved you, and it made him fall in love with me a little, too.”

Listening to her, I started to cry. I hadn’t known any of this, and it was just too sad and shocking. The circumstances of my birth were completely traumatising for everyone in my family, and I had absolutely no knowledge of it. My mind went to the picture of Jo and her sisters as I tried to recall Nadine, what she looked like. She had hazel eyes, soft features, and dark blonde hair. I always thought I’m simply favoured my dad because I looked so much like him and nothing like Mom. Now I realised why that was, and my stomach bottomed out.

“We married only a few months later,” Mom went on. “But I was anxious and insecure. I felt inadequate for not being your biological mother, and a part of me fretted that your father was still in love with Nadine. I begged him to let me raise you as my own, to never tell you who your real mother was. I wanted you to be mine, but I also didn’t want you growing up with the stigma of Nadine’s mental illness hanging over you. I didn’t want you worrying about the hereditary aspect, wondering if the same would befall you.”

A sinking feeling hit. In all the drama of this revelation, I hadn’t even thought about Nadine’s condition. I was only eighteen, and Nadine, my birth mother, hadn’t been diagnosed until her early twenties. Did that mean there was a chance I might develop it, too? Was that what awaited me in my future?

“Your Aunt Jo and her side of the family were completely against it. They wanted you to know where you came from, and I see now they were right, and I was wrong, but I was wrapped up in my own issues, and I couldn’t see the clear picture. I convinced your father to move back to America, to Boston, where he grew up and start a new life for ourselves away from everyone who might remind him of the woman he’d lost.”

“So, that’s what you did,” I said flatly.

“Jo and Padraig came to visit us those first couple years, bringing the kids so you could know your cousins. But then one year, Jo tried pushing the issue of telling you about Nadine again, and I lashed out. Padraig and I fought, too, since he agreed with his wife. It’s why we didn’t speak for all those years.”

I stared at my hands in my lap, a short silence falling.

“And what did Dad think?” I asked in a whisper. “Was he on your side or theirs?”

Pain flashed across her features. “Honestly, I think your father was torn. One part of him wanted me to feel secure and happy as your mother while another part he didn’t voice probably thought you should know the truth of where you came from. I could see that conflict in him, but I selfishly let him live with it because I was too fearful and insecure.”

Poor Dad. To me, he’d always seemed like such a cheerful, carefree guy, but he’d lived with a secret conflict for all those years. Maybe it showed how much he really did love Mom even if he still mourned Nadine. He’d started a whole new life with Mom and kept the secret so she could feel safe in our little family.

“I understand if you hate me,” she went on in a watery voice. “It was despicable, keeping the truth from you and taking you away from Jo and her sisters. I let my selfishness and fear take over.”

“I don’t hate you.” It was true. In my mind, she was my mom, the only one I’d ever known. She loved me and raised me, made sure I never had a worry in my mind about who I was or where I came from. Yes, it was a selfish and flawed decision she’d made, but maybe, ultimately, she wasn’t completely wrong to do it. Maybe growing up oblivious to my birth mother’s illness and suicide was better.

Then I thought of Aunt Jo who was still my aunt, but not by marriage as I’d always believed. How awful must it have been for her, having to lie and pretend like her sister never existed? I remembered the morning when Nuala’s Aunt Julia, who was actually my aunt, too, had looked at me like she’d wanted to burst into tears.

Her expression had stayed with me. It confused me, and now, I knew why.

“I don’t know what to say,” I finally responded, and Mom scooted closer, putting her arm around my shoulders, and I let her. I knew it had to be terrifying to tell me all that, just lay everything bare when it was going to reflect so badly on her. With Dad dead, I was all she had in the world, and I refused to reject her despite what she’d done. She’d devoted her life to me when she’d had no reason to. I’d gotten to grow up with both a mom and a dad who loved me, and that was far more than I might’ve had otherwise. So, even though the lie was terrible, and I hated what it must’ve done to Aunt Jo and her sisters, I couldn’t hate Mom for it. Yes, it was terribly selfish, but she’d just been trying to survive the best way she could, forge a life, and lying was the only way she knew how to do that.

“You don’t have to say anything, honey. Just know that I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you, and that will never change. As far as I’m concerned, you’re mine, and you always will be.”

We sat quietly after that, staring out at the waves, letting the squawks of seagulls float over our heads. “We should head back,” Mom said after a time.

I glanced at her. “You go. I’m going to walk some more. Clear my head.”

Mom nodded soberly, studying me a moment, her eyes tracing my features as she reached out and stroked a hand over my hair. The look in her eyes had emotion catching in my throat. She looked at me like she might lose me, like I might disappear any second. I didn’t know what to say to reassure her that it wasn’t going to happen. My thoughts were still too muddled to put together the right words.

Finally, she squeezed my shoulder softly and went. I sat there for another while then took a walk along the beach. I walked until my feet developed blisters, but I’d needed the time alone with my thoughts. Time to sort through everything in my head.

When I finally returned to the house, Aunt Jo answered the door, her face etched with concern. As soon as I saw her, I threw myself into her arms and hugged her tight. When I pulled back, her eyes were shiny with tears. I finally knew the truth, and there was catharsis in it for her. Relief. She led me into the living room and served me tea.

Mom came downstairs, and the three of us sat for hours talking, with Jo forgiving Mom and Mom crying that she didn’t deserve forgiveness. Jo gave me a bunch of old pictures of Nadine, and I was glad to have them. Even though I still loved my mom, and nothing would change that, I couldn’t deny there was a curiosity in me about my birth mother. A little fear, too. I felt for her, had great empathy for her condition, even if she did abandon me at the hospital, but I didn’t want to end up like her. Sadly, biology was often a lottery.

After a while, Nuala joined us, and the story was told all over again. My cousin teared up hearing the truth, her hand latched on mine the entire time. We were still cousins, just not in the way we’d thought. Julia came over, and I got to know the aunt I never knew I had. Arrangements for a video call with my other aunt, Faye, who lived in Australia, were made, and it was all a little bit overwhelming. Mom drifted off to take a nap, and I worried about her. I hoped she didn’t feel that just because I was bonding with Jo and Julia, listening to stories about Nadine, that I loved her any less. It was her decision to lie, and though I might not agree with it morally, I could tell it was a weight she’d carried for too long. She’d suffered for it, and I didn’t want her to suffer. We’d already been through enough when we’d lost Dad.

Later that night, I found Rhys playing Mario Kart , and just the sight of him was a relief to me. It had been a crazy day, and I still wasn’t sure I’d gotten my head around everything. I felt like I was walking about in a daze.

“Hey,” he said, putting down the controller and straightening when he saw me.

“What are you doing hiding away in here?” I asked as I lowered onto the couch next to him and snuggled into his side.

Rhys scratched at the light stubble on his jaw. “It seemed like there was some intense family stuff going on with your mam and Jo, so I thought I’d make myself scarce.”

“Right,” I said, blowing out a breath. “Intense family stuff. You don’t know the half of it.”

Rhys held my gaze, his hand moving along my hip before rubbing soothing circles into my lower back. “Tell me,” he urged, and just like that, the floodgates opened. I told him everything. He sat quietly and listened, and it was exactly what I needed. Just as I’d been there for him when everything had been going on with his dad, he was there for me in return.

With my mom and my aunts, I’d been trying to be mature, to take the news in a way that didn’t upset anyone else, but with Rhys, I could let my emotions flow. I could tell him all my pain and fear over hearing I wasn’t who I believed I was my entire life.

Rhys was so considerate and understanding. He was the perfect sounding board.

That night when I went to bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about Nadine, my birth mom. I held onto one of the pictures Jo had given me. It was a simple photo of Nadine standing outside the Colosseum in Rome during a family vacation. She looked so happy in it. You’d never guess the fate that awaited her. She must’ve been so terrified when she’d received her diagnosis, so distraught and unable to escape the fears that plagued her. I knew schizophrenia was a scary condition, one that required lifelong treatment, but that was the extent of my knowledge. Most of what I knew came from TV and movies. Those portrayals weren’t likely to be fully accurate, but there was definitely a stigma attached to the illness.

Was that why she took her life? Was she not strong enough to face having a newborn with that kind of fear hanging over her? Strangely, I wasn’t angry. I didn’t hate her for giving up because I wasn’t in her shoes, but I could certainly understand her terror. That same terror was beginning to seep into me. What if a similar future was waiting for me? What if, in a few years’ time, I received the diagnosis that Nadine had?

The questions kept me from sleeping, and when I did, it was fitful.

I spent the next day with my mom. We went into the city and had lunch, strolled through some of the parks and did a little shopping. The atmosphere between us was subdued, and she kept shooting me these worried glances like I was going to turn around and yell that I hated her, that I could never trust her again after she’d lied to me.

I tried to reassure her, let her know that I might have new aunts and new family to possibly get to know, but as far as I was concerned, she was still my number one. She was flawed, but she was mine, and this new information wouldn’t change that. My life had turned out better for her being in it, and I would always be grateful to her for that. Without her, I might never have known a mother’s love. The way she’d gone about it was messed up, but that didn’t negate the fact she’d taken a small, defenceless child and given her the care she’d needed.

For that act alone, I could never hate her.

In the end, Mom extended her visit by a week so we could fly home together. I’d made peace with everything, but a new anxiety began to form. I didn’t want to leave Rhys. I’d become attached to him in a way I’d never expected. I adored him, and I couldn’t stand the thought of going off to college and never seeing him again.

Which was why I foolishly decided to try and convince him to abandon his plans to go to France and instead come to America with me. I just didn’t understand why he was so married to his idea of becoming a soldier. He simply couldn’t see another path for himself.

And it was the cause of our first big fight.