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Four weeks since he’d last spoken to her, Mitchell was missing Hope so much he felt like he had the flu. When Courtney called to let him know they were coming home from hospital, he’d dared to ask about Hope, crossing his fingers as he did, that she’d changed her mind about staying in Melbourne, but apparently, she hadn’t.
Courtney said she moved in with her friend Felicity in a flat near the hospital. Mitchell got the impression Courtney was as upset as he was.
He kept himself busy at work and at home and tried to tell himself he was okay, but it wasn’t working. He’d lost all motivation at work, wouldn’t have eaten if Beth hadn’t brought him meals and he hadn’t been for a run or a surf in weeks.
One morning he woke with a crazy idea. He tried to flick it away, but once it took root, it stuck, and he couldn’t make it shift.
If he wanted Hope in his life—which he did—he needed to go to her. It was that simple.
At work he paced all morning. On his desk he looked at the paperwork he was supposed to do and gave up. His thoughts had never felt so jumbled. Images of Hope bounced into his head and no matter what he did, they refused to leave.
‘What are you going to do?’ Ian asked, coming into Mitchell’s office bearing two cans of soft drink. He handed one to Mitchell and kept one for himself.
The week after he came back from Melbourne Clancy and Ian had bugged him about why he was in such a foul mood and he’d come clean and told them everything.
‘What am I supposed to do?’ Mitchell asked. ‘Follow her to Melbourne and ... what? Traipse around her like a lost puppy?’
Ian took a swig of his coke and swallowed. ‘Either that or stay here, wallow in misery and self-pity like you currently are, and when you’re my age look back and wonder what happened to your life.’
‘Is that what you do?’ Mitchell asked.
Ian chuckled. ‘Me? No. I look at my life and I feel nothing but gratitude. I’ve had a great life.’
‘You’re not lonely?’
‘I was at first when Gwen died, but I keep myself busy here and with the kids and grandkids. I’m not miserable.’
‘Neither am I.’
Ian’s look said it all. He took another sip of his drink and swallowed.
Mitchell sighed. He wasn’t kidding anyone, least of all himself.
‘You’re okay with letting her leave?’ Ian asked.
‘No, I’m not okay with it but I sure as hell wasn’t going to beg her to stay.’
Ian shook his head. ‘Young people.’
‘What else was I meant to do?’
‘Did you tell her you love her?’
‘No.’
‘There’s your first problem.’ Ian leaned forward and narrowed his gaze. ‘You do love her, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Does she feel the same about you.’
‘Yes. I think so. Maybe.’ He wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
Ian stood. ‘Then you’ll make it work.’
Mitchell tried to picture what it would be like to move to Melbourne. He’d done it before for university and hated it, but maybe it would different now he was older. And if Hope was there, he’d make it work.
He’d have to sell the practice, or at least see if Ian wanted to take over and get a locum in to help. But what if he did and Hope decided she wanted to move somewhere else? Did she expect him to follow her around the globe? He couldn’t live like that. He’d spent his childhood moving from place to place in foster care and he was done with all that. He wanted to stay put. He wanted to make a life for himself that made sense. Heck, he was doing that right now. He had a place to call home and couldn’t see any good reason to leave it. No reason except Hope. If he wanted to hold onto her and what they had, he’d have to compromise.
After lunch, he went back to his office, opened a web browser on his computer and typed in “Vet jobs in Melbourne.” There was a surprising number of vacancies. He scrolled through and found a locum position in an inner-city clinic. The website was modern, there were lots of staff and he’d have no responsibilities for running the practice. Before he could change his mind, he called the number on the screen. Ten minutes later, he’d arranged an interview.
He sat back in his chair and stared out the window. Something felt off. His office phone rang, and, grateful for the distraction, he picked it up. ‘Yes, Steph.’
‘There’s a woman here to see you,’ she said.
‘And?’
‘She doesn’t have an appointment.’
‘Okay.’ That wasn’t unusual but something made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He waited for Stephanie to give him more information.
‘It’s not about an animal. It’s personal,’ she said. The last words were so hushed he had to strain to hear them.
‘Give me a second to tidy up and send her in.’ Anything to take his mind off Hope and possible job opportunities.
He bundled the untouched papers and put them back in the tray to deal with later and closed his laptop. Wiping his desk clear, he used his forearm to sweep empty food containers, a can of drink and two coffee cups into the rubbish bin. He scooped up his pens and put them in an old milo tin and cast his eye around the room to make sure there was nothing else too out of place.
There was a soft knock on his door. Before he could open it, it swung open and a woman entered. If he had to guess, she was in her late sixties, maybe older. She had ash blonde hair in need of a good hairdresser, heavily wrinkled skin, faded tattoos on both forearms and she had the minty smell of someone who thought chewing gum would hide the smell of nicotine. The look in her eyes reminded him of a rescued greyhound being dragged into the vet to be euthanised.
He smiled, indicated the chair on her side of the desk and reached out to shake her hand. ‘G’day. I’m Mitchell Davis.’
‘Hello.’ She gave him a shy smile, and she trembled a little as she shook his hand. He noted her cigarette-stained fingers, chewed nails and lack of rings or any other jewellery.
‘Please, have a seat.’ He waited for her to sit, then sat, rolled his chair close to his desk, and leaned forward. ‘How can I help you?’
‘I’m not here about an animal.’ She had a slight accent. He tried to place it. European perhaps?
‘Oka-a-y.’
‘I...ah...’ She looked down at the purse she clutched in her lap and fiddled with the clasp.
He waited. When she didn’t say anything, Mitchell felt annoyance rise. He didn’t want to be rude, but he had a busy afternoon of surgery planned. ‘Do you need something?’
‘Yes. No.’ Another pause.
She still couldn’t bring herself to look at him and he fought to keep his frustration under control.
‘Ms., Mrs., sorry...you didn’t give me your name...I’m happy to help, but you’ll have to tell me why you’re here.’ He kept his voice soft and hopefully reasonable, the way he would if he was trying to soothe a frightened animal.
‘It’s Ms.’ She swallowed before letting out an unsteady breath in a rush. ‘I lost my child a long time ago. It’s taken me a long time to find him.’ She unclasped her purse and pulled out an A4 sheet of paper. When she laid it on his desk, he saw it was a photo.
A photo he instantly recognized.
He shot out of his chair as if hit by a bolt of electricity. ‘Who the hell are you?’ he asked, glaring at her.
‘Your mother.’
Mitchell backed himself against the wall, putting as much distance between himself and this woman. There was no way she was his mother.
‘You need to leave,’ he snapped.
She stood. ‘Yes. Of course. I’m sorry. This must be quite the shock to you.’
As she slipped her purse over her shoulder, her eyes scanned his face as though she was trying to memorise his features in case this was the first and last chance, she’d ever have to see him.
When he said nothing, she bolted out the door of his office.
Mitchell heard her feet tap on the laminate floor, heard the front door open and slam shut.
He stood, heart pounding, his heavy breaths loud in the confines of the room. He didn’t need to look at the photo to know it was authentic. Before he was taken away, he’d snatched the only thing he could—a framed photo of himself on his mother’s lap. The one that was identical to the image that now rested on his desk. He had no idea how she’d found it—he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d seen the photo himself, but the fact she had a blown-up version of the only photo he had of them together was more than disconcerting. It was shocking in every sense of the word.
He sank into the chair. He didn’t know whether to hope this woman was his mother or hope she wasn’t. And while part of his mind was thinking about DNA tests, the other part was considering how familiar she looked. Maybe she really was his mother.
Snatching the picture from his desk he folded it in quarters, shoved it in the back pocket of his jeans, grabbed his phone, wallet and keys and slapped on his cap. Ian would have to postpone the afternoon surgeries.
Whistling for Indy, he strode past the front reception.
Stephanie and Ian shot to their feet, mouths and eyes wide. Without doubt, they’d overheard the entire conversation and were talking about him.
‘I need to get out for a bit,’ he said.
‘We’re fine,’ Ian said. ‘I can handle the surgeries this afternoon.’
‘Are you okay?’ Stephanie asked.
‘I will be.’
‘Take as long as you need, son,’ Ian said. ‘I’ve got everything covered.’
Ten minutes later he pulled into Bill and Beth’s driveway. The visit from his mother—if that’s who she really was—had stirred up a barrage of emotions, most of them echoing back to a time he’d thought he’d left behind him a lifetime ago.
He drove around to the back door and pulled up. He let Indy out and she ran straight to the house. The Simpson farm was her second home. He entered through the kitchen door without knocking.
Beth looked up from the table where she sat doing a crossword and frowned. ‘What’s wrong, darling?’
‘Does something have to be wrong for me to visit?’ he grumbled.
‘The answer is yes when it’s the middle of the day and yes when you speak to me like that.’ She stood and went to the kettle and flicked it on, reached up and pulled out two mugs. She’d make him a cup of tea whether he wanted it or not and she wouldn’t let him talk until they were both seated with hot cups in their hands. While she waited for the kettle to boil, she rummaged in the pantry and pulled out a container of biscuits and set four of them on a plate.
‘Come here.’ She held her arms open and he went to her like a child, stepping into her embrace and hugging her with the desperate hope she’d soothe away his pain the way she had when he was younger.
The kettle boiled, and she patted his back and eased away. ‘How about you sit down and tell me what’s going on.’ She poured boiling water over the teabags. ‘I presume this has something to do with Hope. Courtney told me she’s decided to stay in Melbourne.’
Mitchell waited until she took her seat before he spoke. ‘No, it has nothing to do with Hope.’ He jiggled his leg. ‘A woman claiming to be my mother came to see me at the clinic just now.’
Beth’s mouth opened and closed. She lowered her cup and it rattled as she set it back onto the saucer. ‘Your mother?’
He nodded.
‘You believe it’s her?’
He pulled the photo from his back pocket, unfolded it and smoothed the creases as he pushed it across the table towards Beth. ‘That’s me. That’s her.’
Beth frowned. ‘I’ve seen this photo somewhere.’
‘I know. It’s the only photo I have of her. I took it from the house before they took me away.’
‘Why does she have it?’
‘How should I know unless she really is my mother and she has a copy of it too?’ He scrubbed his hands through his hair. ‘I don’t know what to think.’
‘What did you say to her?’
‘Nothing. I didn’t handle it well. I told her to leave.’
‘Oh, sweetheart.’
‘What else was I supposed to do? If she is my mother, why is she here? What does she want? How did she find me?’
‘You wouldn’t be hard to find, Mitchell. Dad and I fostered you, we didn’t adopt you. A few phone calls to the right people and she would have easily been able to track you down.’
‘But why now after all these years?’
‘I don’t know. Perhaps you should have asked her.’
‘Bit late.’
‘Did she leave you her phone number?’
He shook his head.
‘Do you really think it’s her?’
He sighed. ‘I don’t know. I barely remember her but yeah, I reckon it was her. There was something about her voice. She had an accent. As soon as she spoke, I remembered my mother had an accent.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know.’ His head was a tangled mess. All he wanted to do was call Hope and talk to her.
‘You have to find her and talk to her.’
Jerking to his feet, he paced the length of the kitchen. ‘Why? She abandoned me. She walked out and left me. You know the rest. My life was hell until I moved in with you and Ian.’ He rolled his shoulders back to ease the kinks from his neck. The familiar fury that was his constant childhood companion was back. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t a child anymore, the pain still lingered under the surface.
‘You need to forgive her for that. There may have been reasons why she left that you’ll never know unless you ask her.’
‘I don’t even know if I want to see her again. If she’s even my mother.’
‘I understand you’re angry but enough is enough, Mitchell.’
Beth’s tone pulled him up short. He’d never heard her speak like that.
Eyes sparkling with unshed tears, Beth stood. ‘How old were you when she left?’
‘Four. Nearly five.’
‘Thirty-five years ago. A long time. A lot of water under the bridge. I’m not suggesting you need to have a relationship with her, but I think you owe it to her to let her know how good your life is. Show her the kind of man you’ve become. I’m sure she’ll be proud of you, just as I am.’
‘How am I supposed to find her?’
‘I’m sure you’ll figure that out.’ Beth closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his waist. ‘You and Jordan will always be part of our family and Dad and I will do anything for you. But right now, the best thing I can do is tell you to man up and kick you out the door.’
Despite the seriousness of the situation, he chuckled. ‘Man up? Where did you hear that?’
Beth pulled herself up tall. ‘All the young people are saying it. You know me, I have to keep up with these things.’
Leaning down, he kissed her on the cheek. ‘You know how much I care about you, don’t you?’
‘I know you love me. I also know you don’t know how to say it.’ She huffed a laugh. ‘Now get out of here and don’t come back until you’ve found her.’
If she’d had a tea towel in her hand, she would have flicked him across the backside with it.