| |
Mitchell stood at the entrance to the hospital, sucked in a deep breath and rolled his neck from side to side to ease the kinks. The street was quiet and almost dark. He checked his phone. Nearly six. Where had the day gone? He’d spoken to Hope again as she was leaving Melbourne. Hopefully she was almost here because the kangaroos were shocking at dusk and the last thing he wanted was for her to have an accident rushing to get to him.
‘Mitch!’
He spun around, pulse thudding and breath catching. Hope climbed out of a small white SUV and he let his gaze slide over her, from her messy topknot down the figure-hugging T-shirt and jeans to her shoes. She looked beautiful and he could no longer deny how much he wanted—needed—her in his life. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it happen, but the deep connection he felt with her was too strong to ignore. No, he corrected himself. It wasn’t merely a connection he felt, it was so much more than that. It was love.
As he strode towards her, she jogged across the road, her limp barely perceptible. The too-fast beating of his heart had nothing to do with how quickly he’d moved and everything to do with how much he’d missed her. It had been five weeks since he’d seen her and missing her had become an almost physical ache. Whether or not she felt the same way he felt was irrelevant. Right now, he needed her more than he needed air. He was crazy about her and the sooner she knew it, the better.
He pulled her into a crushing hug, planning to hold her in his arms for as long as he could, until he figured out what to do next. Despite the heaviness in this stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of Hope’s body pressed against his. He let himself sink into the warmth, appreciative of the simple gesture of a hug. Her touch made the night feel a little less dark and the future a little less bleak.
She finally wriggled her way out of his grasp and looked up at him. He wasn’t sure whether it was the cold air or whether she’d guessed how much he wanted her that was making her shake. He smiled down at her. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘I knew you needed me,’ she replied.
‘I did.’
She stood within kissing distance and he knew if he kept looking into her ocean blue eyes he’d be lost. The urge to kiss her was so strong he felt himself swaying towards her, but he kept himself in check. He needed to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.
It was subtle, but when her gaze flicked to his mouth, her eyes widened, and she licked her bottom lip, relief coursed through him. The time apart hadn’t defused any chemistry between them. When her lips parted, and her eyes partially closed, need uncoiled itself within him.
‘Hope...’ His voice came out sounding like a groan.
But instead of stepping back, like he’d expected her too, Hope stood on tiptoe and brushed her lips over his, gently caressing his jawline with her thumb.
He closed his eyes, inhaled the floral scent of her shampoo and kissed her back.
Hope finally dropped her hand from his face and stepped back. Serious eyes met his. ‘How are you doing?’ she whispered.
‘Better now that you’re—’
Her lips silenced him again as her hands delved beneath his shirt, her palms pressing warmth into his back.
When she stopped kissing him, he dragged in a ragged breath. Kissing Hope was like watching the sun rise after a long, dark night. It was everything he wanted and more.
Cheeks flushed, eyes dark, Hope appeared to be as lost as he felt. When she closed her eyes, he covered her mouth with his and kissed her with a restraint he didn’t know he possessed, then, burying his hands in her hair he pulled her tight and deepened the kiss.
It was only when someone walked past and coughed that brought reality back into focus. They broke apart and laughed. This time when she smiled up at him it was equal parts sweet as it was shaky. When he stroked her cheek, his hand shook too.
‘If we keep kissing like that, someone might suggest we get a room,’ she said.
‘No complaints from me.’
She chuckled.
He took her hands and searched her eyes. ‘I know it’s not the right time or place, but I need to apologise. I am so sorry I didn’t call you. I was so upset that day at the park when you told me you didn’t want to talk to me, but I wish I’d ignored you.’
Tears filled her eyes and her lower lip trembled. ‘I wish you had too. I’m sorry, Mitch, I screwed up. I let my fear get in the way of the best thing that has ever happened to me.’
He held his breath, daring to believe she was talking about him, not Macarthur Point.
‘I mean you,’ she said, squeezing his hands.
He exhaled slowly. ‘We’re going to be okay, aren’t we?’ he asked.
‘Yeah, we are.’
She pressed herself against him again and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into another hug. Neither of them said anything for a while, as if they both sensed all they needed in that moment was to hold each other.
There was no doubt now that he and Hope were meant to be together and this time, he was going to do whatever it took. First, he’d deal with this issue with his mother then he and Hope would sit down and work out how to make their relationship work because this time he wasn’t letting her go.
‘I’ve missed you so much,’ he said, as if his kiss hadn’t told her that.
‘I’ve missed you, too,’ she replied.
A gentle breeze toyed with her hair. He lifted a hand to smooth it away from her face. When his fingers touched her skin, she tilted her head back and smiled at him.
‘How long are you here for?’ he asked.
‘As long as you need.’
‘That could be a long time.’
Her fingertips traced his jawline. ‘Is it okay if I stay at your place?’
‘You don’t even need to ask.’
‘How’s your mother?’ Hope asked.
At the change of subject, a hard knot formed in his gut again, like the knot that had sat in his throat since he’d found his mother in the motel room.
He ran his hands through his hair. ‘Still in surgery. It’s been nearly six hours since they took her in. No one’s told me anything.’
‘Do they have your number?’
He nodded.
‘Have you eaten?’
He scratched his jaw trying to remember the last time he’d eaten. Breakfast?
Before he could reply, she looped her arm through his. ‘If you can’t remember, it’s been too long. Come on, let’s get some food into you.’
‘But what if the surgery is almost done? I said I’d be there when she woke up.’
She pulled his hand. ‘They have your number. We’ll go down the road to the pub and grab a parmi or something simple. They’ll call you as soon as surgery is finished. She’ll be in recovery for a while anyway, so we have plenty of time to get back here after they call. Okay?’
She took his hand and pulled him down the street away from the hospital. At the pub, he followed her as if he was on autopilot. Hope led them to a vacant table near the fire. One of the young waitstaff appeared to take their order.
‘I’ll have a lemon, lime and bitters please, and a parmi and chips.’
‘Sure.’ The waiter looked at Mitchell. ‘And you?’
‘The same.’ He didn’t have the headspace to think of looking at the menu. Right now, food was the last thing on his mind.
Hope reached for his hands and squeezed them tight. ‘She’ll be fine.’
‘Will she?’
Hope smiled. ‘She has to be.’
He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Because you need answers and I don’t believe the universe or God or whatever is that unkind that she’d finally find you, then die without giving you the chance to talk and work things out.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
He sat back in his chair and stared over Hope’s head at the television screens behind the bar. One of them was showing greyhound racing, the other harness racing. His chest tightened. As much as he dreaded hearing what his mother had to say, it would be so much worse if she didn’t make it and he had to spend the rest of his life never knowing why she’d run out on him and left him.
It crossed his mind that he hadn’t helped deal with his past by burying it as deeply as he had. In order to stop the nightmares, he’d suppressed the memories of his childhood as much as he could, trying to trick his brain into thinking nothing bad had happened. But it was impossible to erase all the memories. Somewhere, in the dark recesses of his mind, good memories stirred. Memories of a mother who had loved him once. Chest aching, he blinked back unshed tears.
He felt Hope’s eyes on him, and he dragged his attention away from the screens back to her.
‘What are you thinking?’ she asked softly.
He wanted to say “you”, but the timing was wrong. He was thinking about Hope, but in that moment, he was thinking about the woman in surgery more.
He lifted a shoulder. ‘What am I thinking? About how badly I handled things with my her. I was rude and judged her without knowing her side of the story.’
Hope took his hands. ‘Cut yourself some slack. We don’t always do the right thing in the moment. You were shocked and you reacted the way most people would.’
‘By pushing her away.’
‘You just needed time to process what she said.’
‘But what if she hadn’t left her number? What if I hadn’t decided to give her another chance.’
‘But she did leave her number and you did go and see her.’ She smiled as she squeezed his hands. ‘It’s going to work out. I know it will.’
‘I just wish I knew why she left me.’
‘I’m sure that’s why she’s here.’
‘To make amends?’
‘Maybe. Or maybe it’s so you can both have closure. You don’t know any of the reasons why she did what she did, and until you do, it’s going to eat at you for the rest of your life.’
‘You think she just made a stupid decision?’
She let go of his hands and sat back in her chair, hands folded in her lap. ‘I don’t know, Mitch. We all make stupid decisions and bad choices from time to time, but we don’t usually do it because we plan to hurt people deliberately. Sometimes our mistakes are just dumb errors of judgment at the time. Done without thinking through the consequences of our actions.’
Was she talking about herself now or Monika?
‘As long as when we make mistakes, we acknowledge them,’ he said. He could speak in riddles too. ‘Otherwise it’s too hard for the other person to forgive.’
‘And it’s too hard for the other person to trust.’
‘Yeah,’ he agreed.
He still wasn’t a hundred percent sure who she was talking about.
Their meals arrived and for the next five minutes they ate, mostly in silence. He barely tasted what was in front of him.
When his phone rang, he jumped. Heart racing, he picked it up and looked at the screen. It wasn’t a number he recognised.
‘It’ll be the hospital.’ He tapped the screen and brought the phone to his ear. ‘Mitchell Davis.’
‘Hi, this is Eliza. I’m one of the nurses from the hospital. Your mum is out of recovery and back on the ward.’
‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘Drowsy.’
‘We’re on our way.’
Hope pushed back from the table, pulled out her wallet and placed money on the table to pay for their unfinished meals. Then, grabbing his hand, she pulled him out of the pub and back up the street to the hospital.
Inside the hospital they navigated their way to Monika’s room. They didn’t need directions. There was only one ward for acutely sick patients. The lights were dimmed, and the afternoon duty nurses quietly moved from room to room, settling their patients for the evening.
They turned the corner and found Lachie standing there in his scrubs, with a Batman cap covering his hair.
Mitchell frowned. ‘Did you help with the surgery?’
He nodded.
‘How is she?’
‘Not great.’ Lachlan put a hand on his shoulder. ‘They tried to remove the tumour but there wasn’t much point. She’s riddled with cancer. I’m sorry, mate. It was open and close. The surgeon’s done what she could, but...’
Mitchell’s heart pounded in his chest. ‘Is she going to die?’
‘Not immediately. She’ll wake up from the surgery, but she signed an NFR when I did her consent. She didn’t want anything other than pain relief if the surgery revealed the cancer was bad.’
‘Wh-what?’ he stammered. ‘She knew she had cancer?’
Not that he’d given her much of a chance to speak and tell him anything, but wouldn’t she have told him that?
‘I’d say she knew. Or if not, she probably guessed.’ Lachie hugged Hope. ‘Good to see you. I’m glad you’re here for him.’ He turned back to Mitchell. ‘Do you want to see her?’
Mitchell hesitated.
Hope took his arm and gave it a firm squeeze, bolstering his strength. ‘Do you want me to come with you?’
He kissed her brow. ‘Yes please.’
And I never want you to leave.
*
Monika lay asleep in a two-bed room in which she was the only patient. The blind was drawn. The nurses had propped her up in the bed against pillows. Her eyes were closed, and her mouth was twisted as if in pain. Her breathing was loud and laboured.
The air smelled faintly of Glen 20 air freshener. A bag of IV fluids hung from a pole and another pump administered a continuous infusion of Fentanyl into her body.
Mitchell pulled up a chair, sat and, after dragging in a deep breath, took her hand. It was cool in his, the skin wrinkled, as though there was nothing under it except twig-like bones. Bones so fragile they felt like he could crush them if he squeezed too tightly. Even the red hospital ID band was loose around her wrist. He tried to swallow but the lump in his throat was so large it was an effort.
‘Hi....er...um...’ He cleared his throat. ‘Hi...it’s Mitchell.’
Her eyes remained closed.
Hope sat carefully on the edge of the bed and laid her hand on Mitchell’s leg. ‘Do you want me to stay?’ she whispered.
He nodded. ‘Please.’
He examined Monika’s hands. Her fingers were long, her nails short and uncared for and she wore no rings. Had she ever married? It might be too late to ask her now.
He considered the things his mother’s hands should have done. They should have held him as a baby, bathed him as a toddler, pushed him on the swing as a pre-schooler, brushed his hair, read him stories, tucked him into bed at night, held his as they crossed the street on the first day of school. But they’d done none of those things. At least not for him. Did she have any other children? Were their half-brothers or sisters out there somewhere, oblivious to his existence? It was possible.
They sat, neither speaking for close to an hour. There appeared to be no change. Nurses came and went, checking the pumps, taking her blood pressure and temperature. He watched Hope scrolling mindlessly on her phone. Sometime after eleven she left to find them coffee and returned, handing him a paper cup without a word. She didn’t need to talk, just being there was all he needed, and it reminded him that when all this was over, he was never letting her go.
‘How much longer until she wakes up?’ he asked one of the nurses quietly around midnight.
He shrugged. ‘Hard to know, mate. Sometimes people take a while to wake after surgery. She’s comfortable though, I think.’
‘Thank you.’ He turned to Hope and caught her yawning. ‘Why don’t you head back to The Anchorage and get some sleep? I can call you when—’
She shook her head. ‘No. I’m not leaving. I want to be here for you.’
After what felt like a few minutes, but could have been hours, he glanced over at Hope. She had fallen asleep in the chair, her head leaning back against the window. He found a spare pillow and gently lifted her head and put the pillow under it. She didn’t stir. He found a blanket and placed it over her.
He heard a shuffling sound behind him and glanced back at Monika. Her eyes were open.
‘Hi,’ she croaked. She ran her tongue over her dry lips. ‘Water...please.’
He wasn’t sure if she was allowed to drink but the nurse had left a jug and a plastic glass on the bedside table. He filled the glass with water, put a straw in it and held it to Monika’s lips. She drank the entire glass and exhaled softly when she was finished.
‘Thank you.’
‘Are you in pain?’ he asked.
She shook her head.
Heavy silence filled the room and he shifted in his seat. He had no idea what to say.
‘It’s bad, isn’t it?’ she asked finally.
‘Yeah.’ What was the point in lying?
She closed her eyes briefly before opening them again and at him. ‘I’m sorry.’
For what? Sorry for leaving me? For having cancer. For coming back into my life.
He stayed silent.
‘I’d like to tell you my story,’ she said softly. She hesitated, searching his face. ‘May I?’
He nodded.
‘You might not believe it, and you might not understand why I didn’t come looking for you any sooner, but it was for the best.’
He raised his brows.
‘I arrived in Australia from Hungary when I was seventeen, hoping to start a career as a beauty therapist. Instead I was trafficked into a world of prostitution and sexual slavery, forced to take drugs, and surrounded by relentless sexual and physical violence and abuse.’
It felt like she was telling someone else’s story because of the neutrality in her voice. Her eyes were glassy and as she spoke, she looked through him as if looking through a pane of frosted glass. It was the oddest sensation. He’d imagined she’d had a hard life just from looking at her, but nothing could have prepared him for this.
No wonder her demeanour was so flat. He’d thought it was because she’d just had surgery and was doped to the eyeballs with analgesia, but he could see she’d put a veil over her eyes and set her face to avoid showing too much emotion.
‘I spent my first six years in Australia in brothels, on the streets and in dingy hotel rooms before I finally made my escape.’
He barely trusted himself to speak. Swallowing twice, he cleared his throat and still his voice sounded raspy. ‘What happened after that?’
‘I had nowhere to go, no one I thought I could turn to. I didn’t even know I was pregnant until the night I gave birth.’
‘Why didn’t you go to the hospital? The police? They would have helped you.’
‘I didn’t trust anyone. I had no identification. Nothing. I was living in a room in a house in Essendon with some squatters. I lived moment by moment with handouts and free meals whenever I could get them. When the pains got so bad, I went to the hospital, but I was too scared to ask for help so I went to the bathroom and they found me there after it was all over.’ She gave a weak smile. ‘You were so tiny. Less than five pounds. But you had a set of lungs on you and I knew you’d be okay.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I lied. I told them your father was away working and I had no way of contacting him.’
‘And what? They believed you? Sent you home?’
‘I didn’t want them to take you away.’
‘Why didn’t you tell them about the abuse? Tell them you had nowhere to live?’
‘It was a long time ago and back then they would have asked too many questions and taken you from me.’
He shook his head. Unbelievable. He had so many more questions. ‘Who was my father?’
‘I don’t know.’
He felt sick. He could have the DNA of a drug dealer or a paedophile or a murderer. He sat back as wave after wave of emotions buffeted him.
‘I named you Mitchell because it means “who is like God” or “big”. I never wanted you to feel small. Ever.’
‘What about my surname? You didn’t call me Horvath.’
It felt like his entire life and his entire identity had been faked.
‘The lovely doctor who looked after me was called Anna Davis. She was so kind. She didn’t ask me any questions.’
‘So, you created my entire identity and pretended to be something you weren’t.’
‘I didn’t know what else to do. You cannot understand. My own identity was robbed. Unless you have been in my position, you cannot understand,’ she repeated. ‘Afterwards, I took you back to the squat and they encouraged me to go to a place called One Horizon. It was a shelter for homeless women run by a church. I lived there for two years but I never told anyone what had happened to me. I was so scared. Every time I saw someone who reminded me of the men who trafficked me, I thought they would take me back.
‘What about your parents? Your family?’
‘I did not have a happy childhood which is why I came to Australia. My parents were divorced, and my mother had problems with alcohol. My childhood in Hungary was chaotic and my father, before he left, was abusive.’
‘Did you have any sisters? Brothers? Grandparents?’ Mitchell found himself desperate to know whether he had other family members.
‘There was only me.’
There were still so many gaps in her story, and he needed more answers. ‘What happened after you left the Horizon house place?’
‘I only knew one way to make money.’ She dipped her head. ‘It was all I could do to afford the rent and to put food on the table. I was putting money aside, saving it so you and I could move somewhere to the country and start again.’
‘And then? What happened then?’
A tear fell. ‘They found me.’
He frowned. ‘Who?’
‘The men who brought me to Australia. They still had my passport. They told me I owed them a lot of money for bringing me to Australia. I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared they would hurt you, so I agreed to go with them. Every night I would put you to sleep and pray you did not wake up. They would drive me to the casino and dress me up in nice clothes—like I was a princess. We never went in the front door. I was taken to a hotel room and I had to stay there all night. They would drive me back home before the sun was up.’ A tear slipped down her cheek. ‘One day, they did not take me home. I begged and begged, but they beat me and drugged me. It was four days later before they dumped me back at our house. You were gone.’
*
On Friday morning, three days later, Monika was well enough to leave hospital. She barely spoke until he pulled up in front of his house and turned off the engine.
Gazing out through the front windscreen, her eyes bulged. ‘Is this all yours?’
He nodded.
‘It’s beautiful. Stunning.’
‘Thank you.’ He unclicked his seatbelt. ‘I hope you’ll be comfortable here.’
‘I know I will,’ she murmured.
Without asking her what she wanted, he’d made the decision to bring her home to his house. No one talked about Monika’s impending death, but it hung over them all like a dark cloud covering the sun.
A nurse from the community palliative care team had already been arranged, and he expected her at any moment. She’d planned her first visit to coincide with the day Monika came home. He would leave it to the nurse to make all the necessary arrangements.
As always, Beth had been amazing. As soon as he told her everything, she’d opened her heart to the other woman and had done everything to ensure her stay at Mitchell’s would be as comfortable as possible. He was in awe of her. She seemed to bear no ill-will towards his birth mother. If anything, she was demonstrating incredible grace and love—a love he didn’t yet feel for this woman. His mother.
On the morning after Monika’s surgery, only hours after she’d shared her heartbreaking story with him and just as the sun was coming up, he and Hope left the hospital and went back to the farm. Unable to sleep, even though he was bone tired, he’d lit the fire and they’d sat on the couch, holding hands while he told Hope everything Monika had told him. After he’d exhausted all his words, they’d sat staring at the flames until fatigue finally descended, heavy as a lead blanket, and he’d fallen asleep with his head in Hope’s lap, and the feel of her fingers gently massaging his head.
He’d woken hours later. The fire was out, and Hope was sound asleep in his bed. He’d joined her and fallen asleep again, this time with her in his arms.
Mitchell helped Monika from the car and took her arm and walked beside her as she shuffled slowly up the path and across the decking to the front door. The dogs, sensing something was wrong, stayed back.
Once inside he settled her into a chair in the lounge room that overlooked the water. She sat and gazed out the window while he put her bag away. She didn’t have many belongings.
Moments later the dogs barked, signalling someone was arriving. He went outside and greeted the palliative care nurse. After showing her inside, he left her to take Monika into the bedroom he’d set up for her stay.
While they were in the other room, Mitch took Monika’s recently vacated seat. The sun streamed through the windows, and there wasn’t a single cloud in the sky to cast shadows over the green landscape. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept properly.
He heard Beth in the kitchen, humming as she baked. She’d shown up early that morning before he left to go the hospital to bring Monika home, and had been a whirlwind since. Right now, she was whipping cream for scones he had no intention of eating and doubted Monika would want.
‘Want a cuppa, darling?’ she called out from the kitchen.
‘I can make it,’ he said, getting out of the chair, but she’d already grabbed two cups and put the kettle on. ‘Where’s Hope?’ He’d expected her to be at home.
‘She said something about going to see Jordan about something. She didn’t think she’d be long.’
‘Oh.’
‘Why don’t you go out and get some fresh air,’ she suggested. ‘The dogs could do with a play. I’ve ignored them all day and they’re sulking. Go and throw a tennis ball around or something. I don’t like it when you sulk.’
He wanted to deny he was sulking, but it was true. He was in a total funk. He glanced at the closed bedroom door. ‘I thought I should stay in case the nurse needs to tell me anything.’
‘I’m here. If she wants you, I’ll call you.’ She gave him a gentle nudge. ‘Go on, go outside. Take the dogs and go for a walk or something. Moping around won’t do anyone any good.’
Beth was right. Since finding Monika at the motel and taking her to hospital, other than sleeping and showering and making sure the animals were fed, he’d barely functioned. He was still trying to process the enormity of having Monika in his life.
Hope had been amazing too. He desperately wanted to talk to her about their future, but the timing wasn’t right yet.
He went outside and stood on the deck. The dogs circled around him, waiting to see if he’d play. Raf dropped a ball at his feet and he threw it and smiled as the dogs tore off after it. In the distance a magpie carolled in a gumtree and further away, waves crashed on the rocks.
It was funny. His mother was going to die, but life would still go on.
The sliding door opened, and Beth slipped out. ‘Here you go.’ She handed him a cup of steaming tea. In her other hand was a plate of scones, covered in jam and cream. ‘Eat up. They’re still warm.’ He suddenly felt ravenous and he bit into the scone, savouring the taste.
Beth sat on one of the deck chairs and looked up at him.
‘How are you doing?’ she asked when he’d finished two scones and was reaching for a third.
He didn’t reply for a while. He finished his scone and sipped his tea while fighting the ache in his throat and the pressure-cooker-like tightening in his lungs. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. Resting his mug on the deck railing, he sank into the chair next to Beth and, like a dam bursting its banks for the first time, he sobbed.
‘All those years I blamed her for leaving me,’ he choked out eventually as he wiped at his tears. ‘And it wasn’t even her fault.’
Beth ran soothing circles across his back with the palm of her hand, comforting him the way she had for so many years. ‘There was nothing you could do, darling.’
‘She told me she never stopped hoping to see me again, but she had no way of finding me.’
‘It’s a tragic story,’ Beth said.
‘I wish I’d known.’
‘Would it have made things different for you?’ Beth asked gently.
He sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know.’
Beth pulled a freshly ironed hankie from the pocket of her apron and passed it to him. ‘It’s clean.’
He blew his nose. ‘All my life I’ve blamed her for walking out on me and blamed her for my crappy childhood and yet what she experienced was worse than anything I can imagine.’
The story had gone from bad to worse.
When Monika was considered too old for use, her traffickers let her go, but by then, she was addicted to drugs and alcohol and spent the next fifteen years in and out of jail, relying on petty crime to make ends meet.
She’d been clean for eighteen months when her counsellor suggested she start to search for him. It had taken her that long to convince the authorities of who she was before they’d release any information about Mitchell’s identity and whereabouts.
‘Well she’s here now and I suggest you use every moment to make it up to her. She gave birth to you, darling, and she loved you first. You must believe that and remember that.’
The dogs started barking and tore off around the front of the house to investigate but they stopped quickly which meant it was probably Hope.
Beth stood. ‘I’ll go see who it is.’
‘It’s okay. It’ll be Hope.’
Beth smiled. ‘She’s a good woman, that one.’ She picked up the plate with the remaining scones and his half-drunk mug of tea. ‘Don’t let her go this time.’ Opening the sliding door, she stepped inside.
‘Beth.’
She stopped and turned. ‘Yes?’
‘I love you.’
Her mouth opened but no words escaped.
He stood and went to her, taking her hands in his. ‘Monika may be my mother, but you’ll always be my mum. You know that, right?’
A tear trickled from the corner of each eye. ‘Thank you, Mitchell.’
‘I’m sorry I’ve never told you how much I love you and how grateful I am for everything you and Bill did for me.’
She ran a weathered hand down his cheek. ‘You don’t have to tell me, darling. I’ve always known.’