I drew in a deep breath, readying myself for the disappointment I was convinced I’d see in his eyes. What I’d done wasn’t normal, and continuing to lie about it was downright dishonest. And that spoke to my character. I didn’t want him to think less of me; I didn’t want to dim the warmth I’d got used to seeing in his eyes whenever he looked at me. And I was terribly afraid that when I revealed the truth about my lie, he’d never entirely trust me again.
‘My mother is dead, Rhys.’
Whatever answer he’d been expecting, I could tell this wasn’t it.
‘What? I’m so sorry, Ellie. When did this happen?’
‘She got sick last year and passed away after a short battle with cancer... nine months ago.’
‘What? Why didn’t you tell me this before?’ His eyes were green pools of confusion.
‘Because, I forgot she had died,’ I said. The tears I hadn’t expected had found the one sentence guaranteed to release them.‘When the lightning struck me, it took away all memory of her illness, her death, the funeral, everything.’
‘Oh, Ellie,’ Rhys said, pulling me to my feet and gathering me into his arms.
‘What kind of shitty, ungrateful daughter forgets that her own mother has died?’ I sobbed.
‘Hush, hush,’ Rhys soothed, his hand running down the back of my head as though settling a petrified animal. ‘You are none of those things,’ he said. ‘Your memory was affected by the lightning, everyone knows that. That wasn’t something you could have prevented.’
His arm was around my shoulders, holding me gently against him. But I couldn’t relax until he’d heard it all. It was the next most obvious question to ask, and I was ready for it.
‘When did you finally remember what had happened?’
I leant back, my eyes still wet as I studied his face, wondering if this was the last moment he would ever look at me with one hundred per cent trust.
‘Very soon after the lightning strike. Months and months ago.’
‘Why didn’t you say anything back then? Why did you continue to talk about her as though she was still alive?’
That was the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, and I still wasn’t sure I knew the answer. Not all of it, anyway.
‘Because I blamed myself for the rifts that I had allowed to deepen, for all the times when I could have said, “Hey, Mum, you know what, it doesn’t matter.” “It’s all water under the bridge.” And “I still love you.”’
I looked up at him sadly. ‘I don’t think I said any of those things. I can only recall bits and pieces. But I can remember being determined to restore her faith in me. She’d been a tough one to impress, and I really wanted to do that in the time we had left. That’s why I started working even harder to make my business asuccess. I was desperate for her to be proud of me before she died. But I can’t remember if she ever said that she was.’
His arms tightened around me. ‘I’m sure she was. How could she not be?’
‘I was a horrible teenager, Rhys. I blamed her for sending my father away. I was furious with her for not even telling me his name, as though who he was could never be important to me. I didn’t see all the things she did for me; I just focused on all the things she didn’t.’
‘I know I never met your mum,’ he said sadly, ‘but I do know what it’s like to be a parent. There’s no rule book to follow. Most of the time you’re just winging it. Sometimes you’ll get it right, sometimes you won’t. But I’m sure that even when you and she were at odds with each other, even when you argued, the love was still there.’
‘I felt like I couldn’t tell anyone how sad I felt when I eventually remembered losing her, because I’d spent so long acting as though I never really cared. I felt like I’d forfeited the right to grieve for her. So, I hid behind a lie.’
‘She would always have known that you cared. Trust me,’ Rhys said tenderly.
I gave an inelegant sniff. ‘That’s what Henry says.’
‘Who’s Henry?’
‘He’s a man I met in the cemetery. We’ve grown quite close over the last few months.’
He took a beat as his trust in me took a second knock in as many minutes.
‘Close? As in friends, or is this something I should be worrying about?’
I didn’t expect to laugh during this conversation, but I did then.
‘Henry is a lonely old man in his seventies who visits his dead wife Bee’s grave practically every day. He’s kind of taken me under his wing.’