Misty, page 13
Misty cleared her throat and swallowed. ‘You thought she had postnatal depression? Did you flag postnatal psychosis?’
‘Fleetingly and pushed it away.’ Ben’s hands tightened on the wheel. ‘That afternoon she leapt from her apartment window with her baby in her arms. They both died.’
Even though she’d been prepared – had been bracing herself for a tragic end to this story – Misty felt the cold of shock douse her skin. ‘That’s horrible.’
‘So was the first time I saw her husband’s face. And the court case,’ he said wryly, as he switched on the indicator and turned onto another road. She wondered how he could still concentrate on driving. She looked at his face as the sudden light from a streetlamp illuminated it, and it was as if he was carved from stone.
The streetlight passed and his voice came out of the darkness. ‘I admitted I suspected something and didn’t do enough, and the family wanted to sue me for the shirt off my back.’
He gave that mirthless laugh she decided she hated.
‘As if I’d care about that. They could have it all. I did care, very much, that I’d failed her. And her baby. I hadn’t been able to save either of her children and now she had died in my care as well.’
He turned to Misty and rubbed his palm on his leg, as if to wipe away the despair. A truck approached and passed, and in the moment of light she could see the pain in his furrowed brow, as if it was all still beyond his comprehension that this could have happened.
Very gently Misty laid her fingers over his thigh and squeezed it in comfort. He looked surprised at first and then, as if unable to stop himself, his hand came down over hers and squeezed Misty’s hand in gratitude.
He flicked a glance her way as if waiting for her, too, to condemn him. When she said nothing he continued. ‘No previous mental illness. No family history. Normal mother. Postnatal depression affected her brain after the birth, which didn’t allow her to cope with grief. I let her down. I’ve had to live with that. It’s been hard.’
Even through his fingers Misty could feel the waves of despair, even after all this time, and she wondered out loud. ‘How long ago did this happen?’
He took his hand out from under hers and put it back on the wheel, as if he’d had all the sympathy he deserved. ‘Three years last November.’ The lack of expression in his voice was sadder than anything.
This had happened after the devastation of Bonnie taking her own life and the custody battle for Tammy? It was a miracle he remained sane. She wanted to tell him to pull over so she could hug him and tell him he’d done his best.
Somebody should have. ‘Who was there for you, Ben?’ she asked softly.
He shook his head, as if rejecting any thought of compassion.
‘And you left obstetrics after that?’
‘I had no heart for it. And I didn’t fancy letting anyone else down.’
‘And your friends and colleagues?’ Misty didn’t understand. Didn’t men talk to other men like women talked to each other? Like the midwives supported each other over sad events and the sometimes unexplained and devastating losses that happened despite the best care in the world. Obviously not. ‘Your family? Have you talked to anyone else about this?’
‘Sure,’ he said, and she didn’t like the undercurrent in that one word. ‘I talked to my lawyer, the judge, and the court.’
Not quite therapeutic. ‘And?’
His tone was flat, like the judgment. ‘The QC said perhaps I could have done more but it had been an unfortunate series of events out of my control. It was suggested I could do further studies in the psychiatry of obstetrics and document the findings. I left clinical obstetrics and did just that.’
Leaving a gaping hole where he should have completed the process of grief, Misty thought. He should have gone back to see the joyful side of birth again.
Ben went on. ‘I settled half of my bank account on the family, despite the court ruling in my favour.’ He laughed mirthlessly yet again and Misty winced. ‘The amusing part is that I’ve made another fortune with the book I wrote on the subject. At least it might help identify other women at risk out there.’
‘I’m sure it has already.’
He blew out another gust of breath. ‘All future royalties are shared between Tammy...’ He hesitated as his daughter’s disappearance caught up with him, before completing the sentence. ‘And the rest is donated to Beyond Blue.’
‘That’s a great thing you’re doing,’ Misty said, knowing the tremendous reach of that organisation dedicated to supporting sufferers of depression.
He looked across at her. ‘That was all I could do.’
Now Misty understood why Ben feared depression with Tammy’s pregnancy. Because not only would he lose Tammy, but she wasn’t sure he would survive if anything happened to his daughter on his watch.
‘When my patient died, I realised I’d failed another person. Bonnie’s mother took Tammy because she hated me for not being able to save her daughter. I still don’t know what I could have done differently.’ He shook his head as if to rid himself of the thought. ‘It doesn’t matter. I did what I could for Tammy from a distance. I grew to appreciate my isolated life. My only visitors were Tammy for occasional weekends and my editor while I worked on the book.’
Ah, Ben. She undid her seat belt and leaned across to kiss his cheek. Because she had to. Said softly, ‘You were hiding, but you can’t hide anymore because Tammy needs you.’ And I would very much like to need you too. But she didn’t say that.
He looked at her as she buckled herself in again. ‘And you.’ He looked back at the road and then flicked another glance at Misty. ‘You’re the mermaid who dragged me from the ocean and made me join the world again.’
‘You give me too much credit.’
He shook his head and then said, ‘Now I have to believe your “vision” that tells you Tammy is safe at the beach house. Do you realise how hard that is for me?’
‘I can imagine.’ Her voice dry.
‘I escaped into the science of mental illness to distance myself from the things I didn’t trust or identify with, and now because of you I have to go there again.’
She began to understand a little more of his knee-jerk reaction to her disclosure and to the women-centred care and non-intervention of Lyrebird Lake Maternity. This was why he fought against the concept of the birth centre where instinct and faith in the natural mechanisms of the human body were the most important things.
Because he didn’t trust at all. Didn’t believe in them.
In context he’d done very well to be as calm as he had. And now he drove them onwards to the place she’d said his daughter would be. Not because of something he believed in but because he believed in her.
Misty
When they arrived, Tammy was at the beach house. Red-eyed from crying and huddled in the big squishy armchair with her arms wrapped around herself. ‘Go away.’
‘I can’t do that,’ Ben said as he crouched down beside her. ‘I love you.’
Misty’s heart squeezed as she stayed back in the doorway and watched.
‘I don’t want to come back with you,’ Tammy said but she wasn’t looking at him. There was a distinct lack of conviction in the small voice.
Ben looked at Misty and then back at his daughter and sighed. ‘You can’t have your baby by yourself. You need to have people who care about you for support. And I want to be there for you.’
‘You don’t mean that. You’re just saying that. I know you don’t need me in your life now you’ve found Misty.’ She turned away and Misty had no doubt it was to hide her tears.
Ben was getting nowhere and she could tell he was hurting.
Misty looked at him and signalled with her eyes to give her a chance. Ben frowned. Then stood. Tammy was vulnerable and any parent knew there were problems when an extra person appeared in family dynamics. Maybe Tammy would listen to her or at least tell her what she thought of her.
‘I’m getting something from my room,’ he said. ‘Something I’d like to show you.’
Tammy scowled as she watched her father leave and she untangled herself from the chair and stood as if she was going to follow him.
Then she turned back to Misty.
Her shoulders were hunched as she stood there with her arms folded on top of her big belly and glared at the interloper, or that was what Misty felt herself. She wasn’t sure where to start. ‘Your father is trying. He wants to be there for you and your baby.’
‘I don’t need him.’ Tammy sniffed and turned away. ‘I don’t need anybody.’
‘Do you know who you sound like? Your father.’ Misty felt like smiling but was sure Tammy would take that the wrong way.
This made the girl turn back, eyes narrowed and sceptical. Still, interested nonetheless.
Misty went on. ‘Everybody needs somebody. That’s what I’m trying to tell your father. There can never be too many people in your life. Come back to Lyrebird Lake. You have friends and family there.’
‘I don’t have friends,’ Tammy scoffed, and looked away.
‘You have Emma and Louisa,’ Misty said quietly. ‘I thought Emma was going to come in with you when you have your baby?’
Tammy didn’t reply but she did lift her gaze.
Misty pressed her advantage. ‘Louisa and Ned are worried about you, and that’s not good for them at their age.’
‘I am sorry about that because they’re all nice, but I’m just a blow-in they’ll forget. I’m not coming back.’
‘Things happen in life that we want to run away from, but that’s not always the answer.’ Misty moved closer so she could meet Tammy’s eyes. ‘Yes, your father and I have found we might have something together, and I’m not sure if that’s going to go somewhere or not. But what happens with us isn’t a good reason for you to lose out.’
Tammy glared at her but at least she was listening.
‘Do you really want to throw away the chance to share the early months of your baby with your family and friends? That’s a gift some people don’t have. It will be one of the most important times in your life. The other options short-change you and your baby.’
Tammy turned her face away. ‘I’d rather miss out than be in the way.’
Misty wanted to hug her but she was scared Tammy would push her away. ‘Oh, Tammy. You won’t be in the way. How could you be? You drew Ben and I together when we would never have seen each other again. Thanks to you, I got the chance to get to know someone who makes me feel like no one else has ever done.’
‘Pleased for you.’ Tammy didn’t sound it.
Misty reached out and very gently touched Tammy’s arm so she turned to look at her. ‘Your dad is an amazing man. And he loves you very much. I’d hate to be the cause of a separation between two people who have as special a bond as you and your dad.’
Tammy still fought, but Misty could sense her swaying. She was a smart girl; she knew her arguments were thin.
When Tammy didn’t speak Misty went on. ‘What if you go into labour somewhere you don’t know anybody? You’ll be on your own except for the midwife. Not all hospitals are as peaceful as at the lake. You need to remember family is much more important than pride.’
‘You’re not my family,’ Tammy said.
‘Oh, Tammy.’ Misty put her hand on Tammy’s arm and squeezed it gently. ‘I’d like to be.’
Tammy looked at her stone-faced. ‘My father won’t marry you.’
Misty’s face remained serene. ‘What makes you think he needs to?’
Tammy rolled her eyes. ‘Anyone can see you two are besotted with each other.’
‘I hope not,’ Misty said, ‘because we’re not there yet. I don’t think your father needs another relationship right now.’
Tammy’s eyes narrowed. ‘Did you know my mother killed herself when she was married to him?’
‘Yes. I’m very sorry that happened,’ Misty said softly. ‘Do you think that’s Ben’s fault?’
‘That’s what my grandmother says.’
‘Perhaps she had an agenda... or perhaps she just needed someone to blame because she hurt so badly. The important thing is do you blame your father?’
Misty forgot about the horrible trip, all the pain Tammy had caused her father and the selfishness of her youth, and just felt like hugging her.
Poor kid. Misty tried to imagine losing her mother, then being separated from her other parent figure. ‘I understand that’s what your grandmother says—but what do you say, Tammy?’ she asked quietly.
To Misty’s relief Tammy squared her shoulders. ‘My dad wasn’t the problem. Even I could see that. Of course it’s not Dad’s fault my mother killed herself.’ She said softly, ‘She killed herself.’
Misty released the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding
‘Do you think your father should spend his whole life being sorry that he couldn’t save your mother?’
Tammy stood up and kicked a shoe across the room. ‘Yes!’
Misty raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, that was honest, at least. So, you don’t believe he deserves to be happy?’
Tammy didn’t say anything but her cheeks coloured. With the remnants of her display or temper or with embarrassment or with contrition? Misty couldn’t tell.
Misty took a step closer and her voice was quiet. ‘You’re not with your grandmother now, Tammy. You’re old enough to have a baby and you’re old enough to make your own decision about your father’s culpability. You have to decide what you’re going to tell your child. Think about what you really believe.’
Tears formed in Tammy’s eyes and trickled down her cheeks. ‘But if he didn’t make her kill herself then it’s my fault. Mum had postnatal depression after having me and it never went away.’
Misty went to the door. ‘Ben? Can you come in here, please?’
She risked tugging Tammy gently into her arms for a quick hug, and to her relief Tammy didn’t push her away. ‘Please, tell your father what you just told me. He needs to know that’s how you feel.’
Ben appeared at the door and Misty let go of Tammy and gestured him in.
‘Tammy,’ she prompted, and looked encouragingly at Ben’s daughter, urging her to share her fears.
‘Mum had postnatal depression after having me and it never went away. It’s my fault she died.’
Ben crossed the room and swept his daughter into his arms. ‘That’s not true, Tammy,’ he said. ‘Oh, baby. Your mother had an illness before she had you. She had depression and, like some horrid, uncured diseases and illnesses do, it killed her. It’s not your fault and, you know, it’s not mine either. And—’ his voice firmed ‘—it’s not going to happen to you. I love you and worry about you a lot, and deep inside I know you would never do that.’
Suddenly Tammy burrowed her face in Ben’s neck and hugged him. Her whole body slumped as if she was letting go all the pent-up anger and fear and confusion. ‘I do want to come back and it was so horrible at the bus station all by myself. Are you very cross with me?’
‘No, baby. I love you,’ Ben said.
Misty smiled at the both of them through her own tears. ‘Your father hates it when the people he loves are hurting. You should have seen him when he was coming to look for you. A wild bull couldn’t have stopped him.’
‘Misty wanted to come too. When I said, no, she threatened to tie herself to the seat of the car.’ He rolled his eyes theatrically. ‘When I came out she was already in the seat.’
Tammy tried not to laugh. Looked at Misty with maybe even a touch of admiration. ‘Did you tie yourself in?’
‘I had the seatbelt on.’ They all laughed and it cleared the air like nothing else could.
Tammy smiled through her tears. ‘He’s a pretty cool dad, you know.’ She sniffed and wiped her eyes. ‘I’ll come back.’
‘I’m glad,’ Misty said, and she had to tilt her head to see into Tammy’s face. ‘How come you got to be so beautiful and tall?’
‘My dad’s really tall,’ she said as she looked at Ben.
Misty’s heart expanded with warmth. She seriously loved that Tammy made that statement. To Misty she was saying despite everything, tests and all, you are my dad.
Ben held out his arm and Misty joined the group hug for several perfect seconds before she pulled back. ‘I’ll leave you two alone while I ring Louisa and Ned and tell them the good news.’
‘Thank you, Misty.’ Ben squeezed her hand. ‘Again.’
The last word was very soft.
Misty
Later, when they’d assured Tammy that everyone was staying and she could sleep peacefully at the beach house tonight, she’d gone to bed.
Misty and Ben stood on the veranda and watched the moon rising out of the distant ocean. Ben’s arm was around her shoulder. ‘You seem to be making a habit of saving me. You realise if you left me, I’d backslide into the morose person I was before I met you.’
Misty looked at this man who had come into her life with such impact. He was gorgeous and imperfect and she’d begun to think he needed to learn that she loved him. Unconditionally.
She’d just realised that herself.
‘You don’t have to do everything by yourself, Ben. If we’re going to be a part of each other’s lives, you need to learn to let me into all of it... not just the easy bits.’
He turned her towards him. ‘I’ve never been the type of guy to tell people what’s happening inside me. I’d always believed men needed to be strong and in control. You don’t play by those rules.’ He looked into her face. ‘You still think we have a chance?’
‘If you try.’ She looked up at him and rested the point of her finger on his chest and poked him gently.
He laughed. ‘Ow. I’m trying.’
Misty resisted the impulse to poke him again but he knew she wanted to. ‘Then try harder.’
