One More for Christmas(84)



“Don’t.” Mary reached for a cloth, her movements calm and quiet. “Don’t apologize for being upset about something that would have broken most people.”

“It was right then, at the lowest point of my life, that I realized the only person I could rely on was myself. I had no loving parents to cushion me from life. No partner—because in no way were Ray and I ever partners. I had no qualifications and no career prospects. I’d thought about working, of course, but Ray had insisted it was better if I stayed at home with the children, and as he earned plenty there was no need for me to work. I hadn’t finished college. It didn’t even occur to me that it would be sensible for me to have a way to earn a living in case I needed to do that one day. Without the girls I don’t know what I would have done, but I had them and they were my motivation for everything.”

“So what did you do?”

“I was lucky that I had a small amount of money that my parents left. Fortunately I’d never told Ray about it. Three months after I left him, the police came to my door. He’d wrapped his car around a tree. He’d been drinking. I went into labor that night. They put the baby in my arms, and I felt this tiny scrap of flesh and a ton weight of responsibility. I had a ten-month-old and a newborn. That was the point in my life when I grew up.”

“I would have been crushed by it,” Mary murmured. “Flattened.”

“I was. Thinking about the enormity of it, the hugeness of what lay ahead, froze me. So I narrowed my field of vision. I dealt with the problem that was in front of me. And then the next problem. I found a home day care provider who lived in the same block as me, and worked two jobs to pay for it. Hardly saw the girls, but I did what I had to. I finished college, and spent every moment of every day applying for jobs. To start with I got nowhere, and then I was offered a job on a graduate program with a consultancy firm. They’d decided they needed to hire more women. It was a box ticking exercise, but I didn’t even care. It grew from there. I constructed a new life from the rubble of the old one.”

And maybe that was something to be proud of. Maybe not all her choices had been bad.

Mary didn’t seem to think so.

“And you did that while raising two beautiful girls.” She paused. “Did you tell them the truth about their father?”

“I told them he died. I didn’t think they needed to know the rest. I’ve never told anyone, not a single soul. Until today. You’re easy to talk to, Mary McIntyre.”

Mary’s hand tightened on hers. “In your situation, I think I would have done the same. Not told them all of it.”

“Truly?” She, who had navigated the past three decades without seeking anyone’s approval, was pathetically grateful to have one of her decisions endorsed.

“Their father was dead. What was the point?”

“That was my reasoning, but now they’re asking—or Ella is. She’s a romantic. She wants to know about my relationship. My honeymoon. She thinks I’m traumatized because I lost the love of my life. They think the fact that I have no photos, and no memorabilia of any kind, is a sign that I can’t think about him. Which is true, but not for the reasons they think. And now I’m trapped by my own lies.”

Mary frowned. “You didn’t lie. You just didn’t disclose the truth of what your life was like before he died.”

“And maybe I should have done. Although I don’t know how, or when, I would have done that. What would I say? By the way girls, that father you never met? He liked to push me down the stairs.”

Mary shook her head. “At what point should we stop protecting those we love? That’s the question.”

“One of many questions.” Gayle fiddled with the cookie in front of her, facing an uncomfortable truth. “Maybe I’m the one I’m protecting. I survived by not looking back. You’d think after all these years I’d be ready to look, but I’m not.”

“Why would you want to look at something as ugly as that? You don’t have to apologize for it or feel guilty. You have a right to protect yourself. I think it’s called self-care.”

“The irony is that I was determined to be the best parent possible. I was determined that the girls would have all the skills they needed to survive in life. Not pony rides and ballet lessons, not that I could have afforded those anyway, but classes that would help them. Extra tuition in math, reading programs. When I bought gifts, it was always books and puzzles. I didn’t wrap them in padding, even though I wanted to. I taught them to pick themselves up when they were knocked over. I taught them to heal their own bruises. I wanted to teach them self-reliance.” She rubbed her fingers over her forehead. “I wanted them to know their own strength, so they would never lie awake in the dark trembling, afraid they couldn’t meet life’s challenges.”

“You’re a wonderful mother, Gayle. The girls are lucky to have you.”

She was a fraud. A total fraud. “Up until a few weeks ago, the girls and I haven’t spoken for five years.”

There was a protracted silence and then Mary reached across the table and took her hand. “Oh Gayle—”

“Our last meeting—I upset them. I said the wrong thing. It wasn’t just wrong, it was hurtful. My own experiences have made me—inflexible. And afraid.” It was so hard to admit it. So hard. “Everything I’ve achieved—everything I am, was driven by fear. I was afraid to love, so I stayed single. I was afraid to trust, so I did things alone. I was afraid of not being able to support my family, so I put everything I had into my work. Fear. All of it was about fear. And if that wasn’t bad enough, I let my fear dictate the way I raised my daughters.” She could see everything so clearly now. “I didn’t know it, but Ella was pregnant that last time we met up. Because I was always so judgmental and disapproving of her choices, she was afraid to tell me. And Samantha was so angry with me—protecting her sister. I see that now.”

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