Page 63 of Sinful Promises

Rather than ask the obvious question of who the other girl was, I deviated. “How old are you there? You look so pretty.”

A tiny smile curled at her lips and vanished in an instant. “It was two days before my ninth birthday. I was dressed for the party I was having later that day.”

“Is the other girl one of your friends?”

Mother shook her head ever so slightly. Her mouth opened, then closed. She was on the verge of telling me something. And, by her hesitation it was something huge. She stared at the photo and I waited. And waited. Finally, Mother cleared her throat. “Her name was Lily. She was my little sister.” Mother’s voice oozed sorrow.

“You have a sister?”

She squirmed in her bed and placed the photo face down on her chest like she was haunted by it.

When she didn’t respond, I asked, “Why does it say sorry on the back?”

Frowning, she picked up the photo again. Her chin quivered, and forcing myself to react accordingly, I reached forward and clutched my hand around hers. “Tell me, Mom. Tell me about your sister.”

She turned to me with a thin smile on her lips. “I named you after her, you know?”

“No. How would I know that? I didn’t even know you had a sister.”

Clenching her jaw, she snapped her gaze away. “Well, I did.”

Mother closed her eyes and swallowed. It sounded like she was swallowing jagged rocks. Her lips drew to a thin line and tears welled in her eyes. “Her name was Lily. A flower name. Just like yours.” She looked at me defiantly.

It was too little. Way too fucking late. “Where is your sister? How come I’ve never met her?”

“Because she died about two hours after this photo was taken.”

I gasped. That was the last thing I’d expected her to say. “Oh, Mom, I’m so sorry.”

A tear squeezed out and trickled down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. “It was my fault.”

Frowning, I squeezed her hand, urging her to continue. She swallowed again and I offered her a drink. I was prepared for her to take as long as she needed to tell this story.

Mother sipped the water, then with her hands wrapped around the cup, she said, “She drowned in the dam, and it was my fault.”

“How could it have been your fault?”

Mother shrugged her bony shoulders. “I was supposed to be looking after her.”

“But you were nine?”

“Yes, Daisy, I was nine.” Her eyes darkened, showing me some of that fire I’d seen over the years.

“Okay, so what happened?”

She lowered her gaze to the photo and flipped it back over. “Mom and Dad went to the shop to pick up my birthday cake for my party. I was allowed to have six friends over. It was a big deal. My first ever party. And my last.” She sucked in a shaky breath. “But while they were out, Lily begged me to take her swimming. We had a dam down in the back paddock, and we weren’t allowed to go there without Mom or Dad around. But we did. We stripped down to our underpants and jumped in.” Her chin wobbled. “But Lily never came back up.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “I swam around, desperate to find her, screaming her name. I was still in the water, screaming and crying when Mom and Dad returned.”

Her shoulders heaved as she held back a sob. “They found Lily standing upright, right where she’d jumped in. Her little feet were stuck in the thick mud.” Mom burst into tears. These were not the crocodile tears I’d seen from her many times over. These were so real they hurt.

“Oh, Mom.” I stood and wrapped my arms around her. She was so frail in my embrace. As Mother’s shoulders heaved back and forth, I too cried.

For a brief, utterly piercing moment I felt the closest to my mother that I ever had. For the first time, we were family.

It was ironic that our embrace was ruined by something as trivial as the tea lady, and her carb-loaded trolley, offering us a hot drink and a treat. Every poignant moment in my life seemed to be wrecked by something fleeting.

Mother and I came apart wiping our eyes, and as I eased back on my chair. I reached for her hand, squishing our palms together in a way I’d never done before. It was special and touched me so deep inside, it smothered my heart.

But this new trust was fragile and dangerous.