Love...Among The Stars: Book 4 in the Love...Series (Love Series) (34 page)

Oh, but it is. It really,
really
is.

'Jamie,' I say to my quiet husband, as we watch Lightfoot and Pete drive away, no doubt delighted to be escaping this strange soap opera in suburbia, and looking forward to getting back to the safe haven of central London.

'Yes, sweetheart?'

'There are two things I need at the moment.'

'What is it?' he asks intently. 'Anything you need Laura!'

God bless him. I have one reliable man in my life, and that's probably all I need when you get right down to it.

'A hug.'

'Of course!' He wraps his arms around me.

'And a lift to the casualty department.' I hold the offending limb out as Jamie pulls away. 'I think Terry may have done me some damage.' The tears are back. 'In more ways than one.'

Luckily, it's just a bad sprain, rather than a break. A friendly nurse called Christina wraps a bandage around my wrist, and sends me on my way with a prescription for painkillers, and advice to let Jamie do the fighting for me from now on.

Back home, we sit in silence over tea, watching Poppy play with Winklehoven on the floor. We let her eat the turkey dinosaurs again tonight, and didn't complain once when she wolfed them down in a minute and left all her peas. It only seemed fair enough. Jamie didn't even complain when Winklehoven bit his finger. Both of us are just too shell shocked after the events of this afternoon to react much to anything.

The lassitude that has come over me is understandable, but not very productive. There must be something I can do to shake myself out of it.

A thought occurs as I'm slowly chewing on a mouthful of peas I can't taste.

'I think I'll do some writing this evening,' I tell Jamie after I swallow.

'Really? You think that's a good idea, baby? After what's happened today?'

'Yes. I need to do it. It'll make me feel better. I want to get all of this down. It'll help me clear my head.'

Jamie regards me with doubt in his eyes. 'Okay. I'll keep Poppy and the hellhound amused then. But call me if you need anything.'

'Thank you, sweetheart.'

I rise from the table and give him a kiss. I also hug Poppy, and tickle Winky behind one ear, before making my way slowly up the stairs.

I feel apprehensive as I do.
Nauseous, in fact.

Why?

Because I'm about to sit and talk to the one person who needs to hear what I have to say following today's revelations. The one person I'm actually angry at - possibly for the first time in my life.

You
, Mum.

How could you keep it from me? How could you let me think that idiot was my father? How could you never tell me the
truth
? Not even when you were
dying
? Not even when you were
leaving me too?
You didn't think it would be a good idea to let your bloody daughter know that her father was actually some Yank in the fucking army? Some man you had a brief fling with, before letting him sod off back across the Atlantic to be with his real family?! Why didn't you put up more of a fight, Mum? Why didn't you
care
??

And so here I sit, raging at the keyboard, and pouring my heart out to a woman who died of cancer years ago... a woman I thought I knew everything about!

I can hear Jamie downstairs right now, telling Winky off for biting his toes, while my glorious daughter giggles at the top of her lungs, and all I want to do is go and join them. But here I sit, tears coursing down my cheeks as I write, trying my hardest to understand why my dead mother would have kept me in the dark about something so important... and knowing that it doesn't matter how many words I type, or how many times I ask, because
I'm never going to get an answer!

Why, Mum?

Why?

I love you, but I don't miss you at all today,

Laura.

Jamie's Blog

Wednesday 3 November

Snore
.

'Jamie!'

Snore
.

'Jamie, wake up!'

Snore
.

'Jamie! For crying out loud, wake up!'

Sno
-

Smack!

'
Ow
!
Whasser
matter? What?
Whas
going on?'

'Are you awake?'

'Fuck me no! I'm sleeping. Or I bloody was.' I sit up in bed, groaning as I do. That's when you know you're getting old, when just the simple act of sitting up in the most comfortable place on Earth is accompanied by a groan. 'What is it, baby?' I ask my wife, rubbing my eyes and looking at the clock. It reads 6.17am.

In the dim pre-dawn light I see that Laura is wide awake, her hair wild. There's
a twitchiness
about her I don't like one bit.

I'm sure yesterday was one of the worst days of her life, and I was rather hoping a good night's sleep would do her the world of good. From the looks of things though, she hasn't slept a wink. I guess I shouldn't be that surprised, losing a father for the second time, and discovering you're the illegitimate child of another man, would be enough to rob anyone of a proper night's kip.

When I went up to find her hunched over the computer and crying last night, it was the most heartbreaking thing I'd ever seen. I was almost in the car and driving round to Terry's to see if I could break my hand on his face too, but Laura persuaded me it would be a pointless thing to do. She told me she wasn't really angry at him anyway, and showed me what she'd written to her mother through all those tears.

When I'd finished reading, I put my arm around her and gave her a kiss. 'It's well written, but I don't think we should end the next book with it, baby,' I said with a rueful smile. 'It'd be a bit of a downer.'

'Very funny,' Laura replied, wiping her eyes. 'I can't delete it though, not yet. She doesn't deserve that.'

And who can blame her for feeling that way?

I'd be angry at my mother too, if she'd kept something like that from me. Hell, I generally
am
always angry at my mother for one thing or another, but nothing this bad. Booking a barbershop quartet that tells you you're going to die horribly is one thing, but it pales in comparison alongside keeping your real father's identity a secret all the way to your grave. I never knew Helen McIntyre, but by all accounts she seemed a wonderful woman. It's disconcerting to know she was capable of keeping such secrets from her own daughter. And if I'm disconcerted, then Laura must feel a thousand times worse.

Is it any wonder then, that at 6.17am, my wife is wide awake and looking at me with a wild look in her
eyes.

'I've had an idea!' she says animatedly, sitting up on her knees in front of me. I notice her iPad is on and open on the bed beside her, its light bathing the ceiling in an eerie white glow.

'Does it involve sleeping?' I say, bleary eyed. 'Because any plan involving going back to sleep would get my vote.'

Laura takes my hand. 'I want to go to America.'

'You want to what?'

'I want to go to America, Jamie. Boston. In Massachusetts.'

'I know where Boston is. But why?' I ask, with a sinking heart, knowing full well what the answer will be.

'Because I want to find him.'

I grimace. 'Your real dad, you mean?'

'Yes! This Laurie person.' Her face darkens. 'I have questions, Jamie.
Many, many questions.
Mum can't answer them, but maybe this man can. Maybe he can tell me why I was lied to.'

'But we don't know anything about him. Terry said he didn't know more than his first name, and the fact he was in the army.'

'Exactly!' Laura crows with excitement. 'He was in the army... and he came from Boston.'

'Might
have come from Boston.'

Laura flaps her hand. 'Yes, yes, alright, he
might
have. But it's still a lead.'

'Not much of one.'

Laura picks up the iPad. 'There's a veterans centre in the city. We might be able to find out more about Laurie there. Where he lives maybe. If he's still alive, there's a good chance we can track him down.'

I sigh. I have a horrible feeling that my wife is clutching at straws here.

But then I remember reading those heartbreaking words she'd written to her mother about needing answers, and can fully understand why Laura wants this so much.

How can I tell my wife that there may be
no
answers for her? Here, or in the USA? That finding this man will be like finding a needle in a haystack.
A very large haystack of 50 states, with an obesity problem and a relaxed attitude to gun control.

I can't do it though. I can't let her down.

This is the woman I love - and sometimes, when love is involved, you just have to clutch at those straws and hope they hold.

'Okay baby,' I say with a grin.

'Okay? You mean we can go?'

'Yeah. Sure. If that's what you want to do.'

Laura throws her arms around me. 'Thank you, Jamie!'

'My pleasure.'

And it really is my pleasure, because
oh my God
, how could I ever deny this woman anything? In the dim white light cast by the iPad, with her hair
dishevelled
, and her vest pulled down slightly so one of her nipples is poking out, she looks absolutely
beautiful
.

Laura has given me everything. A daughter I adore, a career I love, a life I enjoy. How can I refuse her anything?

I would walk through Hell for Laura Newman. A manhunt across America should be no trouble at all.

There's a knock at the bedroom door. It opens to reveal a yawning Poppy Newman holding a stuffed
Nemo
, and looking decidedly unhappy about being woken up at this time in the morning by her excited mother.

'What's going on?' she asks, rubbing one eye. 'I was sleeping.'

'Poppy!' Laura exclaims.
'Would you like to go to America?!'

Never underestimate the ability of a seven-year-old to go from half asleep to wide awake in a nanosecond. 'America! Yeah! That'd be great!' With a smile of pure joy spread across her face, Poppy jumps up onto the bed and throws her arms around us both.

And there you have it. Even if we don't find Laura's real father, then at least we'll make our little powerhouse of a daughter happy. Which, when you get right down to it, is the best reason to do anything, as far as I'm concerned.

...also, we'll probably have to put Winklebastard in a kennel while we're away.

Don't
worry,
I'll make sure I pack something familiar from home, so that the dog can think about us fondly while we're gone. It's made of cardboard and Border
Terrier
shaped.

Next stop then, is the United States of America.

Hold on to your hats, folks. It's going to be an experience none of us are likely to forget!

The End.

...for now.