Nineteen Letters, page 27
They’re so engrossed in their conversation, I take the chance to slip away from the table. “I’m just going to use the ladies,” I say.
“Okay, pumpkin.”
Instead of heading to the bathroom, I walk towards the exit and out into the crisp evening air. My plan has worked out even better than I could have hoped.
It’s completely dark outside now, and chilly. I rub my hands down my arms because I left my jacket hanging over the back of my chair in the restaurant—but I’m not going back inside to get it.
I’m not even sure where the bus stop is from here, so I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone.
“Jemma,” Braxton says as soon as he answers. “Is everything okay?” Just hearing his voice makes me giddy.
“Everything’s fine. I was just wondering if you were busy.”
“I was about to order a pizza for dinner.”
“Oh. Never mind then, I can catch a bus home. There has to be a stop around here somewhere.”
“Where are you?”
“In town.”
“I’ll come get you. I don’t want you catching a bus on your own at this time of night.”
Ten minutes later, I spot his car coming towards me. I step out to the kerb, waving my hand above my head so he can see me.
“Hey,” he says, when I climb into the passenger seat.
“Hi.”
“You look nice.”
“Thanks, so do you.” He’s still in his work clothes; he looks so handsome in a suit.
“Can I ask why you’re in town alone at night?” His eyes meet mine momentarily as he pulls away from the kerb.
“I wasn’t alone.”
“Oh.” I can hear the shock in his tone.
“I was dining with my parents.”
“Christine and Stephen … together?” His gaze leaves the road briefly, darting in my direction.
“I tricked them both into coming. Neither of them knew the other was going to be there.”
“Ouch,” he says, scrunching up his face. “I bet that didn’t go down well.”
“Surprisingly, when I left the restaurant to call you, they were both talking and laughing.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“Did you spike their drinks or something? Your mum can’t even stand being in the same room as him.”
“I know. She was pretty pissed with me when we first got there, but then they started reminiscing about stories from my childhood.”
“Well, I hope for your sake that this devious plan of yours works.”
“Me too,” I say as I text Stephen.
Me: Hi Dad, it’s Jemma. I’m not in the bathroom, I snuck out. You two seemed to be getting on okay, so I wanted you to have some time alone, to hopefully sort things out. Mum would never admit it, but I know she still loves you. Don’t worry about me, I’m in the car with Braxton. He’s driving me home. I’m sorry for deceiving you both, and I hope you’re not angry with me. Can you please make sure Mum gets home safely?
A few minutes later, I received a reply.
Stephen: Your mother has just gone to look for you. And I’m not angry. I’m grateful, extremely grateful. You’ve pulled off the impossible tonight, kiddo. I can’t thank you enough. I’m not going to get my hopes up, but this is the first time your mother has spoken to me in years. Thank you, pumpkin. I’ll make sure she gets home okay. Love Dad.
“What did he say?” Braxton asks.
“Things are going well.”
I see him smile as he continues to watch the road. “I’m proud of you for doing this.” He reaches across the centre console and grabs my hand. Butterflies flutter in my stomach when he laces his fingers through mine.
“So, I snuck out before we even ordered … Can I share that pizza with you? I’m starved.”
“Absolutely,” he says, his face lighting up. “Do you want to come to the beach house, or would you prefer to go to Christine’s?”
I’d like nothing more than to spend the remainder of my evening with him. “The beach house is fine.”
It’s close to midnight when Braxton pulls into Christine’s driveway. The house is bathed in darkness, so she’s still out with my father, or in bed. I’m fine with either one—I don’t want to face her tonight in case she’s still upset with me.
At the beach house, I finally got to see the back deck lit up by the lanterns and fairy lights. It was as beautiful as I imagined it would be.
We ordered a pizza and ate outside by candlelight. We stayed out there until the wind whipped up, and Braxton suggested we move inside. We ended up watching a movie together on the sofa. It was nice—there was no kissing or making out, but I was okay with that. I was acutely aware of his leg touching mine the whole time, though.
“Thanks for coming to rescue me tonight, and for the pizza and the movie,” I say, when we reach the front door.
“It was my pleasure. Thank you for the company.”
Leaning forward, he places a soft kiss on my cheek. It’s sweet, but I really wouldn’t have minded if he kissed my lips instead. “Sweet dreams, Jem.”
“Goodnight.”
“Sweetheart,” Christine says, stroking my long brown hair as I sob into my pillow. “We’ll find Annabelle. She’s probably packed inside one of the boxes.”
“Daddy said he looked inside the boxes and Annabelle wasn’t there.”
“She’ll turn up.”
“She won’t … she’s gone forever. Who am I going to play with now?”
“What about Bradley next door? He seemed like a nice boy,” she says in a soft voice. “I bet you two will end up being the best of friends.”
I raise my head from the pillow, turning my face towards her, but my vision is clouded by tears. “His name is Braxton,” I reply. “Not Bradley.”
“Sorry. Braxton.” Christine wraps my small body in her arms, rocking me gently.
“Found her!”
I pull back to see a breathless Stephen standing in the doorway of my bedroom. He’s holding Annabelle in the air, with a huge smile on his face. “She was in the car … lodged under the back seat.”
“Annabelle!” I cry out joyfully, leaping off the bed.
A smile tugs on my lips when I hear Christine humming in the kitchen. That’s a good sign … I hope.
“Morning,” I say, poking my head around the corner.
“Morning, sweetheart. Come sit. I was just about to make some toast.”
I smile when she pulls out a chair for me. “You’re not angry?” I ask.
“A little.” Christine tries to look stern, but it’s not very convincing. “I don’t enjoy being misled.”
“I’m sorry. Dad still loves you, and I know that you’re hurt by what he did, but if you’re honest with yourself, you’d have to admit that you still care about him too.”
She sighs as she takes the seat beside me. “You’re right, I do. He was the love of my life and feelings that intense don’t just disappear overnight. But I’m not sure if I’ll ever be able to get past the betrayal.”
I want to remind her it was just a kiss, but I don’t. I’m pretty sure I’d be equal parts pissed off and heartbroken if my husband kissed another woman too.
I place my hand on top of hers. “I understand why you did the things you did, I do, but you played your part in this too. You neglected him. You shut him out when you needed him most.”
She sighs. “I know, but I was in a bad place. I lost both my parents in the space of a week.”
“I get that, I do. And I’m sorry you went through that. From the little Braxton has told me, you had good reason for being depressed, but Dad loves you; you should have let him help you through that. Shutting him out only made matters worse. Can’t you see that?”
“I …”
When tears rise to her eyes, I pull her into my arms. “It’s okay, Mum. Everything is going to be okay. I just wish you would let go of the anger and hurt. It’s destroying you.”
Within seconds, her tears manifest into racking sobs, but I don’t let her go. I don’t try to stop them either. She needs to get them out and finally grieve so she can move forward.
A long time passes before they finally stop. “I’m sorry for making you cry, but I bet you feel better for it.” I reach for the tissue box that’s sitting in the centre of the table, passing it to her. “As much as I’d love to see my parents back together, I’d settle for you two being friends.”
She gives me a hopeful smile. “Friends I can do. We had a nice time last night.”
“I’m happy to hear that.”
When she goes to stand, I stop her. “You sit, let me make you breakfast.”
“Thank you,” she says tenderly, and I know she’s thanking me for more than breakfast.
These people are my family and have done so much for me. I want to give something back because I care about them … that much I know.
As I’m buttering the toast, memories of the dream I had last night flutter around in my head. Was it just a coincidence? My parents talked about my doll, Annabelle, during dinner. I’m not sure if that’s the reasoning behind it, or if there is something more to it.
There is only one way to know for sure. They never mentioned if she was found, but in my dream, Stephen said she was lodged under the back seat.
I glance at Christine over my shoulder. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“Did you ever find out what happened to Annabelle?”
“Your doll?”
“Yes.”
“Your father found her in the car. If my memory serves me correctly … I think she’d fallen under the seat.”
I can’t stop the grin that tugs at my lips as I quickly turn my face away so she can’t see it. It might be nothing … just a silly coincidence. I don’t want to get my hopes up, or anyone else’s, for that matter. But maybe, just maybe …
Could this be the first sign of my memory returning?
Chapter 30
Braxton
“I’m heading home,” Lucas says, popping his head into my office.
I look up, meeting his gaze. “I’m not far off leaving as well. I just want to finish this letter to Jemma.”
He gives me a thoughtful smile. “How are you two going?”
“We’re going okay.” I feel myself grinning as I say that.
“I’m glad,” he replies, pushing off the doorframe. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, buddy.”
I pull up the calendar for the year 2006 on my laptop, so I can find the exact dates I’ll need for my next letter.
Letter thirteen …
Dearest Jemma,
The first of December 2006. We’d kept our relationship a secret for an entire week, but we were making out every chance we got. We couldn’t keep our hands or mouths off each other, and it was only a matter of time before we got caught. Looking back on that day now, I’m thankful it was your mum who busted us, and not your father.
It was a Friday. I’d been waiting all day for you to get home. I was sitting on my front veranda when I noticed you coming down the street, and I ran to meet you halfway. I wanted to kiss you so badly, but I couldn’t risk any of the neighbours seeing us.
As we approached your place, you grabbed my hand and pulled me down the side of your house, behind the bins.
I pushed you up against the wall, crashing my lips into yours. My actions were that of a desperate man. We hadn’t taken our relationship any further than kissing, but my torch seemed to be a constant fixture in my pocket. We were both more than ready to take the next step, but we still lived with our parents, so it was impossible. And there was no way I was going to let our first time be in the back seat of your car.
I’d taken a part-time job mowing lawns, without your knowledge. I was trying to earn enough money to take you away somewhere nice, and I wanted it to be a surprise. I scheduled my clients during school hours, and I planned to spend the holidays working while you did your shifts at the ice-cream parlour.
My hand slid underneath your top as our kisses became hot and heavy.
“Oh, my god! What the hell are you two doing?” we heard your mother screech.
I instantly pulled away from you, but it was too late: we’d been sprung. I still remember the look on your mother’s face. She was as white as a ghost, her eyes wide with shock, and her mouth was gaping open.
“Let me explain, Mum,” you said, taking a few steps in her direction.
You stood before her but said nothing. I’m not sure if you were thinking of an excuse, but unless you were going to tell her you’d been choking and I was using my tongue to dislodge the food stuck in the back of your throat, then the truth was the best way to go.
“I’m waiting,” she replied, tapping her foot impatiently on the concrete.
You still couldn’t seem to find the words, so I stepped forward. “Jemma is my girlfriend,” I said. “She has been for a week now. We both realised that our feelings for each other ran far deeper than friendship. I’m sorry we kept this from you, but we had planned on telling you, Mrs Robinson. We just wanted to get used to the idea of being a couple before sharing our news with the rest of the world.”
“I see.” She paused briefly as her eyes moved back and forth between us. “Well, I suppose I knew this would happen sooner or later. You’re just lucky it was me who caught you, and not my husband. I suggest you both tell him your news tonight when he gets home from work. If he walks in on what I just did, it will not end well.”
With that, she turned and walked back into the house.
“Shit,” you said as soon as she was out of sight. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”
“I guess it is. I’m not looking forward to telling your dad, though.”
“Why? He loves you.”
“I’m just not,” I said, shrugging my shoulders. You were his little girl, and he was very protective of you.
“He’ll be fine.” You slid your arms around my waist and gave me a devious smile. “Now, where were we?”
I was no longer in the mood. “No more kissing until we’ve spoken to your dad.”
You lifted my arm, looking down at the watch on my wrist. “That’s over two hours away,” you whined, pouting. “I’m not sure if I can survive that long.”
Leaning forward, I sucked your bottom lip into my mouth. “I’m pretty sure you will.”
My leg bounced nervously under the table as we sat in the kitchen and waited for your dad to arrive home from work. Your mother was behind us, busily stirring dinner on the stovetop.
I felt sick in the stomach when we heard your father’s car pull up in the driveway. The moment he entered the kitchen, you reached for my hand, giving it a comforting squeeze.
He kissed the top of your head. “Hi, pumpkin.”
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Brax, my boy,” he added as he passed me, ruffling my hair.
“Hey, Mr Robinson.”
“Hi, sweetheart,” he said when he reached your mum, planting a soft kiss on her lips. “Dinner smells delicious. We were busy at the bank today, so I didn’t get time for lunch. I’m starved.”
“It will be ready in about ten minutes,” she replied.
That was my cue; it was now or never. “Mr Robinson,” I said, inhaling a large breath as I stood and scrubbed my hands down the front of my jeans. “Could I have a word with you?”
My eyes briefly met yours. “I love you,” you mouthed, and it was in that moment I knew that whatever punishment I was about to receive from your father was worth it.
“Sure.” He gave me an inquisitive look as he followed me into the lounge room. “Is everything okay, son?”
“There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Shoot.” He eyed me sceptically as he slid his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“Jemma and I recently realised that our feelings for each other go beyond friendship.”
His expression turned serious. “I see.”
“We’ve decided to enter into a relationship.”
He took time to ponder my words. He wore a stoic look the entire time, so I was unable to gauge how he truly felt about this situation.
“Do you love her?” he asked, eventually.
“Very much.”
“Jemma, can you come in here, please?” he called out. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
“Has there been any funny business going on?” he asked as we waited for you.
“No, sir, but we’ve kissed.” He cleared his throat but didn’t reply.
I valued my life too much to tell him you’d touched my torch.
“Yes, Daddy,” you said, coming to stand beside me. Your father’s gaze moved down to our hands when you laced your fingers through mine.
“I’d like to hear your take on this … relationship.”
You pulled back your shoulders and looked at me as you spoke. “I love him, and he loves me. I’m not sure what else you want me to say,” you replied.
“That’s enough,” he said, nodding his head. He took a few steps towards me. “As long as you treat my daughter with respect, and don’t break her heart, we won’t have a problem. Understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” He extended his arm, and we shook hands. “I’d welcome you to the family, but you’ve been a part of this family for years.”
The nineteenth of December 2006. That was our first official date. It was either coincidence or fate that it was on the nineteenth. The restaurant was booked out weeks in advance, and this was the only day I could get. It was a Tuesday, but you were on school holidays, and I didn’t have to start uni for another few months. It also happened to be the day before my eighteenth birthday.
I’d made reservations for us at The Sea Shanty. It had been my mother’s favourite restaurant. My father would take us there on special occasions. It was also the fanciest place I knew.
