If you truly love me Ch. 03: Holly

But they hadn't. They still spoke to me. The difference being they no longer spoke to me with warmth and familiarity. With love and affection. Now they barely hid their disappointment. Their pity.

Even Ronnie. My cousin and best friend. Ronnie, who had lived with us when he was a teen because his father had kicked him out for being gay. Ronnie, who, thirty-two years later was still estranged from his father.

It wasn't fair. His mother, my Aunt Freya, hadn't stopped her husband from disowning their son and yet Ronnie never harboured any animosity toward her for her failings as a mother. I knew they met regularly for coffee or lunch. I could only guess he excused her because she was rather meek, and his father had always been the dominant one in their relationship. Her ongoing relationship with her eldest son was her biggest, and probably only, rebellion against her husband's controlling nature.

So why did Ronnie continue to look at me with disappointment and pity? Why couldn't he forgive me my failings?

I looked again at the invitation. Eight weeks. In eight weeks', my baby was marrying Drew Jameson MacPherson. In bloody Scotland!

David was going. That much was clear. The invite stated as much. David James Prescott invites Holly Walters...

Upon seeing my maiden name, my eyes stung with unshed tears. It was wrong. So wrong. It should have been David and I issuing invitations to our daughter's wedding, not just David.

And I shouldn't have been a mere guest.

I wanted to yell. To scream. To rant and rave at my daughter but I couldn't. That would only drive her further away.

What had the psychologist said? That's right. I had to be like a punching clown at a carnival. I had to bounce back after each blow and not ever give up. That was my only chance at winning back the love and affection of my daughter. But it had been five years and with the arrival of the invitation it was clear I was no nearer to achieving that goal than I'd been when we first fell out.

I pulled a bottle of red from the wine rack and poured myself a hefty glass. I drank it in a few gulps and then topped up my glass. My Dutch courage still seemed low so I polished off the second glass and once again refilled it before feeling strong enough to open WhatsApp on my phone. I double checked the time in London. 7:30a.m. Perfect. I knew she didn't leave for the office until eight-fifteen.

I hit Caitlyn's number, silently praying she'd answer.

"Hi, Mum."

I closed my eyes, swallowing my hurt at her lacklustre answer. I missed hearing the smile in her voice when we spoke. I missed knowing she was pleased to hear from me.

"Hey, sweetheart. Congratulations. I just received the invitation. They're beautiful, by the way. The invitations, I mean."

I stopped and drew a breath. I was babbling. Five years and our conversations still made me nervous. I tried to draw comfort from the fact she hadn't hung up on me for a while.

"Thanks. We'll understand if you can't make it. It's a big trip from Australia and eight weeks isn't that long a time for planning."

I sat down and swallowed a mouthful of wine. I wished it was whiskey. It might have cauterised the wounds her words inflicted. Anything to assuage the hurt.

"Of course, I'll be there. I wouldn't miss it for the world. Is there anything I can do? Shall I come over a few weeks earlier?" I asked injecting as much love and joy into my voice as I could.

"No. No need. Drew and I have it all handled and Dad's here."

I wanted to cry. My baby didn't need me. Didn't even really want me to be a part of her special day.

"Oh, okay. Well, as I said. I wouldn't miss it for anything. I'll look at flights etcetera tonight and let you know my details."

"Sure. Well, I have to go, Mum. Bye."

And then she was gone and I was all alone. Again.

*****

THE PLANE TAKING off pushed me back into my seat. I looked out the window at the diminishing landscape. The sight should have brought joy, a sense of anticipation and excitement. I was on my way to my daughter's wedding. Instead, I felt a weight. I was taking the trip alone. Everyone, my mother included, had made their plans months ago, long before I even knew Caitlyn was getting married.

"Caitlyn asked me not to say anything to you as she wasn't sure she was going to invite you to the wedding if it was going to upset David. She asked us all so you needn't question your brother and the rest of the family over it."

"But, Mum, I'm your daughter and Caity is my daughter. Couldn't you have given me some kind of hint?"

"No, I could not. I gave Caitlyn my word and I keep my word."

The rebuke was subtle, but there nonetheless and somehow sounded worse in my mother's perfect but formal English.

"How long, Mum? How long are you and everybody else in this family going to punish me? I made a mistake. A one weekend lapse of judgment versus twenty-five years of being a good wife and mother. I'm not a mass murderer, for god's sake."

My mother stared at me for an uncomfortably long time. Even at forty-seven I still quailed under that gaze.

"How could you, Holly? After what you saw when your father strayed and broke up our family. You experienced the ramifications firsthand and still you went on to betray your husband. A good man. A wonderful husband and father. A man who loved you dearly. Even now, five years later, I don't understand how you could do it."

"I told you. I'm bisexual and I went through some kind of crisis and wasn't thinking straight. It was only one weekend. Maybe everyone should be asking why David couldn't bring himself to try to understand and forgive me for making one god-damn mistake. That was a tad harsh, don't you think?"

"Daughter of mine, your physical transgression may have only occurred that one weekend but your betrayal went on for much longer. Adultery takes thought. It occupies wishes and dreams. It takes planning. Lies. And in your case, it took manipulation."

She quirked an eyebrow at me, daring me to challenge her. Before I could formulate a response, she continued.

"And, yes it is true you did not kill anyone, but you killed a thing. You killed your marriage. And that "murder" has had repercussions for many members of your family. We all love David. I have always thought of him as another son, as you well know. He is your brother's best friend and a mentor to Warren. Even Ronnie, who has always championed you, has been devastated. Because of your actions we must all give thought to what we say around each of you. We must decide whether to invite you or David to an event. We have all been witness to Caitlyn's pain. Actions have consequences, Holly. Your actions have had consequences for everyone in this family. Perhaps you should consider apologising to each of us."

My mother's lecture infuriated me. She was my mother; she should have been on my side. Blood was meant to be thicker than water.

"If you love David so god-damn much why didn't you, or any of the others, go in to bat for me and convince David to forgive me? To give me another chance?"

"And do your work for you?"

I had no answer to that so I changed the subject.

"Your beloved David gave up on me, on our marriage, without a moment's hesitation."

"I don't believe that for a second, Holly. He fought for you but you were deaf to his pleas. You saw only that he was an obstacle to your desires. The difference between you and David is he did his fighting for your marriage before it collapsed. It was only after it fell apart that you did yours. By then it was too late. It is long past time you took responsibility for your actions. Perhaps when you do your family will also be able to put it all behind us."

And, so, I was travelling alone and would have my own hotel room instead of staying with Caitlyn as I knew my mother was.

*****

SEATED BY THE window in the café I often brunched or lunched at with Yvette, my business partner, when I was in London, I looked around. Not much had changed. A few new prints and different table centrepieces but, all in all, it was still the café of my memories. There was something comforting about its familiarity.

It had been a while since I'd visited the London office; Sophie now being employed there was an effective deterrent. While waiting for Yvette, I allowed my mind to wander to the past. Had we really been running GLBT Publishing for twenty years? It only seemed like yesterday we made the decision to start our own publishing house.

Yvette and I had both been editors for the same mainstream publishing house and struck up a friendship through the online forum the company provided for debate over the grey areas in editing. Yvette was based in the UK and I worked for the Australian division. We'd actually been friends for a few years before we met face-to-face for the first time at a huge convention held in London. When David had been unable to accompany me, Ronnie had, on the spur of the moment, joined me for the trip and one night over far too many glasses of wine he'd bemoaned to me and Yvette the lack of fiction with gay protagonists.

The moment his tirade hit the ether was a lightbulb moment for both Yvette and me. We exchanged a look—not a word was spoken—but in that look I knew I'd just gone into business with her. All that needed to be done were the formalities... talk with husbands... registering... finance.

Ronnie immediately caught on to our shared moment and raised his glass. "All right! Let's do this."

Right there and then we'd started brainstorming for a name. By midnight Ronnie had come up with the winning name: Gays Love Books Too Publishing, or GLBT Publishing.

After that night all the pieces had fallen into place rather quickly. I'd phoned David the next morning, and, not surprisingly, he was all for it. Yvette had done the same with Tim, her husband. Before Ronnie and I flew home the three of us had worked out a rough budget.

It took us around three years to start turning a small profit and closer to five before Yvette and I had totally replaced our old incomes but the sacrifice and effort had been worth it. Of course, we wouldn't have been able to do it without the support of David and Tim. Now, twenty-odd years later, we'd built a publishing house with a good reputation that continued to experience steady growth, and at last count, employed ten people, not including freelancers.

And Ronnie had his gay fiction.

I was smiling at my memories when Yvette slipped into the seat opposite me.

It was immediately obvious she had something on her mind. I reached across the table to squeeze her hand.

"Hey, hon. How are you?"

"Holly, I'm so sorry. This is so hard so I'm just going to spit it out."

I tensed and prepared myself for bad news. Had Sophie decided after all this time to take revenge on me for rejecting her? Had something gone terribly pear-shaped with one of our releases? Was Yvette ill?

"Holly, I know how devastated you were—are—by David leaving you. I've done my best to support you, but it's been five years."

What? I couldn't comprehend where she was going with what was troubling her? What did David have to do with it?

"We're friends. I love you, but I can't continue picking up the slack for you. It's affecting my marriage and Tim has had enough."

"What do you mean picking up the slack for me?"

Yvette looked at me with something akin to disbelief.

"Holly, you can't possibly be blind to the fact that for the last five years, ever since David left, that you haven't pulled your weight. At best, you've been going through the motions."

"I've worked," I protested, offended.

"I'm sorry, but, no, you haven't. At least, not with the same enthusiasm and passion. Reader, as well as writer events remain less than what they were prior to your marriage breakdown, things like setting up interviews and reviews for our writers are also down. Your notes on manuscripts have been woeful. Lots of things have been slipping through the cracks. I could go on but I don't want this to degenerate to a place where we can't maintain our friendship at the end of it."

I sat back in my chair, stunned.

"Holly, I would like to buy out your share."

"But we built this together. We decided to do this together."

"Yes, we did, but your heart is no longer in it, so I think my buying you out is the best solution."

"What if I say no?"

"Then I will have no choice but to dissolve the partnership, taking as many of our authors with me who want to stay with me and I must warn you, Holly, many are not happy with you. Far too many have come to me with complaints about you. A goodly portion of my time is spent soothing ruffled feathers and pouring oil over troubled waters because of something you've done or failed to do.

Holly, I'm sorry. I hate having to do this but if I don't it's my livelihood also on the line, not to mention, my marriage. When it all started, I gave you two years to get your head back in the game. That became three years, then four. Well, it's been five. I can't keep moving that line in the sand."

I fought back tears. The business was all I had left, the only reason to get out of bed each day, and whichever way I went, I was going to lose it too.

"Try and look at this as a positive, Holly. How many times when we worked for other people, and even in our early days with GLBT Publishing, did we laugh and joke about attempting to write a novel ourselves? Perhaps, this is the right time for you to do that."

"Did you have to lay this on me now? With my seeing David for the first time in years? With Caitlyn getting married in a couple of days?"

"I know. I'm sorry, but I wanted to have this conversation face-to-face and this was the only time I could be guaranteed to get you alone. I promise to be fair with the numbers. I just can't keep carrying the load for you."

*****

ALONE IN MY hotel room, I replayed the conversation with Yvette yet again. I'd been doing it all afternoon and evening while travelling to Scotland.

What a horrible day. I was no longer wanted in the publishing house I'd help create. I felt low. Defeated. I longed for David. I longed to talk to him. Have him reassure me. The ache was physical. I wanted so badly to lay beside him and rest my cheek over the place where his heart resided. Hearing its sure and steady beat had, at various times over the years, been exciting, at others soothing, but always safe. It was a place I'd always thought of as being mine. Once upon a time, within David's arms had been the warmest, safest, most loving place in my world. God, how I missed it. I needed him so much. I still held out hope that one day he'd forgive me and my safe place would be mine again.

I sipped on a glass of red, and needing distraction, scrolled through my emails. One thing led to another and I found myself writing to David.

My beloved David,

Even after five years, I miss you. There isn't an hour I don't think of you. I have meetings with authors but it's you I want to talk with. I read their manuscripts but instead of concentrating on them my thoughts are with you. And now my distraction and lack of passion, as Yvette put it, has come back to bite me on the bum. I'm gutted but at the same time it's hard to muster anything more than resignation at my situation. It's not just at work. My whole life is me going through the motions. I wait and hope and wait some more for a miracle.

And tonight, the night before our daughter's wedding when we should have been together, toasting our baby's happiness, I'm sitting in a lonely hotel room in an unfamiliar city and the memories drift in like soft summer rain through the open window.

Tonight, the memories have taken an unexpected turn. Tonight, while I anticipate our beautiful daughter walking down the aisle to marry her big, strapping Scotsman, I can't help but remember the night she was born. Do you remember?

God, I was scared. When everything started going pear-shaped and I could see from the looks on the nurses' and doctor's face it was serious, I was terrified. I tried not to show it. I wanted to be brave for you and then I lost consciousness.

When I came to I saw your face. You looked terrible. Haggard and tired. I was so frightened something had happened to Caitlyn. I waited for you to say something. What did you say? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. You just stared at me. Not before or since has anyone ever looked at me like that. You looked at me with such love. Love and relief.

And then you kissed me. Such a kiss. You were like a drowning man gasping for air. That kiss told me everything I needed to know. With that kiss you told me everything in my world would be okay, that Caitlyn was okay.

How could I have done something to screw that up? How could I have risked losing you? I don't know, my love. I honestly don't know. The only thing I do know is I'm here again, terrified.

The last five years have been a nightmare I can't seem to wake from. I keep praying for you to kiss me and make everything okay. I'll never stop hoping and praying you will forgive me and once again look at me with love. Only you can make things right in my world.

Yours and yours only,

Holly

I stared at the screen, my cursor hovering over the send button. The thud of my heart seemed to match that of the cursor blinking away steadily, waiting for me to make a decision. Taking a deep breath, I clicked, and my message was gone, winging its way to David.

*****

I SMOOTHED THE dress over my hips, regarding my reflection in the mirror, trying not to think about the fact that David hadn't replied to my email. I'd woken hoping to have him knocking on my door. No such luck. I comforted myself with the fact he was probably preoccupied with father of the bride things or catching up with family and friends and not checking his emails.

I'd bought two outfits for the wedding. One for good, mild weather, one for cold and rain. You never knew what you were likely to get in Scotland. It was a beautiful country, there was something wild and untamed about it, but the weather was fickle.

And now my daughter was about to get married to a huge, mountain-climbing Scotsman. Drew certainly was tall, something I'd noticed in photos but they hadn't accurately conveyed just how tall he was. He must be six-three or four. He was as dark as Caitlyn was fair.

Today would be the first time I'd seen David in two years and that time had only been in passing. God, it seemed like a lifetime ago. Now, he lived in London, he and Ben having opened a London office so David could be closer to Caitlyn. Something else for Ben to resent me for. Because of me, his best friend and niece lived on the other side of the world.

I checked my reflection again, nervous. I wanted to look beautiful. I wanted David to see me and realise he still loved me. As far as I knew he hadn't gotten serious with anyone new, though I was sure he'd had plenty of offers. He remained a good-looking man. I hoped the outfit I selected was alluring enough to attract him yet appropriate for the mother of the bride.

I leaned in closer to the mirror and frowned. Seeing the crease between my brows deepen, I immediately relaxed my facial muscles. The crease was still there, only a tad less prominent. The last five years had aged me, taking a toll on my looks. I looked every one, and then some, of my forty-seven years. I wanted to cry. I wanted to look young and fresh and sexy. Damn Mother Nature and the whole aging process. I regretted my decision to forgo Botox injections but after looking silly for weeks, like a damn duck, after having had collagen injected into my lips I was wary of another botched cosmetic procedure. Even now my lips weren't quite right. I hoped David wouldn't notice.