A Love Left Behind

Chapter 34 - Twelve Years

Mallorca looked different from above.

Quieter.

Almost harmless.

I watched the coastline appear beneath the plane and wondered why anyone needed this much blue.

Mum would have an answer.

She had developed opinions about sunlight since surviving cancer.

Apparently almost dying gave people permission to become irritatingly philosophical.

My phone connected before we'd reached the gate.

Seventeen emails.

Nine messages.

Two missed calls.

One from my CFO.

One from Chloe.

Chloe: Don't even think about going to the office.

I smiled.

Me: I don't have an office in Mallorca.

Her reply came immediately.

Chloe: You would build one.

Fair.

A driver waited outside.

Mum had insisted.

I'd pointed out that I was capable of renting a car.

She'd pointed out that last time I visited, I'd spent half the drive on a conference call.

Apparently surviving cancer also made you controlling.

The city disappeared behind us.

Palma had always been Mum's Mallorca.

Restaurants.

People.

Noise.

Her apartment in the center.

The farther we drove, the more I understood why she'd wanted something different.

Mountains in the distance.

Stone houses.

Sea appearing between trees.

Space.

I opened my laptop.

The driver looked at me through the mirror.

I ignored him.

Twenty minutes later, my phone rang.

Chloe.

“Where are you?”

“Car.”

“Working?”

“No.”

“You're lying.”

“I answered one email.”

“Laptop.”

I looked at it.

“What about it?”

“Close it.”

“You're becoming Mum.”

“f**k you.”

“Lovely.”

“Close it.”

I did.

Mostly because I knew she'd keep calling.

When we reached the house, Mum was waiting outside.

Of course she was.

I barely got out before she wrapped her arms around me.

“You came.”

“I said I would.”

“You say many things.”

“Good to see you too.”

She pulled back and looked at me.

“You're too thin.”

“I'm not.”

“You work too much.”

“Hello, Mum.”

“You look tired.”

“Mum.”

She smiled.

Then hugged me again.

I let her.

Over her shoulder, Chloe stood in the doorway.

She didn't hug me.

She waited until Mum released me.

Then punched my arm.

“Ow.”

"That was for taking four years.”

“I saw you three months ago.”

“Not here.”

“You're insane.”

She hugged me.

For a moment, I closed my eyes.

There had been a time when I thought I'd lose her.

Even twelve years later, some part of me still remembered hospital corridors whenever I held my sister.

She pulled away.

“Come on.”

The house was ridiculous.

I could admit that.

Bigger than it had looked in photographs.

Warm stone.

Glass.

Open rooms facing the sea.

Mum had already filled it with things.

Books.

Flowers.

Photographs.

Life.

There was a picture of Chloe and me as children.

One of Mum and Dad.

One of Dad and Rea.

I stopped.

Mum noticed.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You're surprised.”

“A little.”

She adjusted the frame.

Time had done what none of us managed when we were young.

Not fixed things.

Softened them.

Dad and Rea were still together.

Mum no longer said her name like an accusation.

Chloe could sit at a table with her.

Most days.

That was enough.

“Where's Dad?” I asked.

“Germany.”

“With Rea?”

Mum looked at me.

“Where else?”

I smiled.

Once, that answer would have started a war.

Now it was simply an answer.

“Hungry?” Chloe asked.

“No.”

“Good. We're eating.”

“I have a call at—”

Both women looked at me.

I sighed.

“Fine.”

Lunch lasted two hours.

I checked my phone four times.

Mum confiscated it on the fifth.

“You can't do that.”

“I gave birth to you.”

“Thirty years ago.”

“Still counts.”

Chloe laughed.

I looked toward the sea.

The view was almost offensive.

“You like it,” Mum said.

“It's fine.”

“Fine?”

“Very blue.”

Chloe threw bread at me.

For the first time in months, maybe years, I did nothing.

No calls.

No emails.

No decisions worth millions.

Just sat there.

With them.

Later, Mum slept.

Chloe disappeared to meet someone in Palma.

I found my phone on the kitchen counter.

Thirty-two notifications.

I picked it up.

Then put it back down.

That surprised me.

I walked outside instead.

The property stretched farther than I'd realized.

Gardens.

Stone paths.

A lower terrace.

Beyond it, a narrow path leading toward the water.

I followed it.

No reason.

Just movement.

The afternoon was warm.

Somewhere nearby, music played.

Not loud.

A house beyond the trees, maybe.

Keller.

The thought arrived without permission.

I hadn't asked which property was his.

I could have.

I hadn't.

Good.

I kept walking.

At the bottom of the path, the sea opened in front of me.

I stood there for a while.

Mum was right.

It was different from Palma.

Quieter.

Maybe I understood why she'd wanted this.

Then I heard laughter.

A woman.

Farther along the path.

I didn't look immediately.

There were people everywhere.

Neighbors.

Tourists.

Someone's guest.

Then she laughed again.

Something happened inside me.

Not recognition.

Not yet.

Memory.

My body reacted before my mind did.

I turned.

A woman stood perhaps fifty meters away.

Back to me.

Dark hair moved in the wind.

White shirt.

Bare legs.

She was looking toward the water.

No.

I almost laughed at myself.

Twelve years.

Apparently three letters in a property report were enough to make me see ghosts.

I turned away.

Then she lifted her hand.

Pushed her hair behind her ear.

A tiny movement.

Meaningless.

I'd seen it thousands of times.

In Manila.

On beaches.

At airports.

In hotel rooms.

Across tables.

My heart stopped.

No.

The woman started walking.

Away from me.

I followed.

One step.

Then another.

I didn't know what I was doing.

I couldn't see her face.

She could have been anyone.

Then someone farther ahead called something.

She turned slightly.

Not enough.

A cheek.

The line of her jaw.

Profile.

My feet stopped.

Everything else didn't.

My heart.

My breathing.

Twelve years of memories.

All at once.

Rose.

I couldn't say it.

For twelve years, I'd trained myself not to say her name.

Not to search.

Not to wonder.

Not to ask whether she was still married.

Whether she had children.

Whether she ever thought about me.

And now she was standing fifty meters away.

Real.

Not eighteen.

Not a photograph.

Not a memory.

Rose.

My first instinct was to call her name.

My second was to leave.

I did neither.

She walked farther down the path.

I watched.

There was something different about her.

Of course there was.

Twelve years had passed.

She carried herself differently.

More slowly.

More certain.

She wasn't the girl I'd left at an airport.

I wasn't the boy who had left her.

I took another step.

Then stopped again.

What exactly was I going to say?

Hi.

Sorry about the twelve years.

How's your husband?

My jaw tightened.

Keller.

Maybe this was his property.

Maybe she lived fifty meters from the house I'd just bought my mother.

The universe had a disgusting sense of humor.

Rose stopped.

For one terrifying second, I thought she'd turn around.

She didn't.

Her phone rang.

She looked down.

Answered.

I couldn't hear the words.

Then she smiled.

Not the polite smile people used on calls.

Something softer.

Familiar.

Whoever was on the other end mattered.

I knew who I imagined it was.

Adrian.

I hated a man I had never met.

Again.

Ridiculous.

He hadn't taken Rose from me.

I'd left her.

That fact hadn't improved with age.

She continued walking.

I let her.

That might have been the end of it.

Maybe it should have been.

Then another sound came from somewhere beyond the trees.

A voice.

Younger.

I couldn't make out the words.

Rose turned toward it immediately.

Something about the movement caught my attention.

She disappeared around the bend.

I stood alone.

For several seconds, I couldn't move.

Then my phone vibrated.

Mum.

Where are you?

I looked toward the path where Rose had vanished.

My fingers hovered over the screen.

I could follow her.

Find out.

Twelve years ago, I'd crossed continents looking for her.

Today, she was less than a minute away.

I put the phone in my pocket.

And walked back toward the house.

I told myself it was because Rose had a life.

A husband.

Maybe a family.

I had no right to walk into it because fate had put us on the same stretch of coastline.

That was the reasonable explanation.

The truth was simpler.

Damian Dado had spent twelve years becoming a man who wasn't afraid of anything he could control.

And Rose Tan—

Rose Keller—

had never been something I could control.

I reached the terrace.

Mum was standing there.

“Where were you?”

“Walking.”

She stared at me.

“What?”

“You look like you've seen a ghost.”

For once, my mother had no idea how right she was.

“I saw Rose.”

The words came out before I could stop them.

Mum went completely still.

“What?”

“Rose.”

Chloe stepped through the open doors behind her.

I hadn't known she was back.

“What about Rose?”

I looked at my sister.

“I just saw her.”

Silence.

Neither of them reacted the way I expected.

And that—

more than seeing Rose—

made something cold move through me.

I looked from Chloe to Mum.

“You knew.”

Mum opened her mouth.

“Damian—”

“You f*****g knew.”