Page 121 of Outback Secrets
The whiskey had to be over four years old. Did alcohol go out of date? Henri couldn’t remember but her heart ached at the thought of her dad. She wished it was him here now comforting her. Then again, if he were still alive, she’d probably never have got with Liam in the first place because he’d have put a stop to Fiona nagging about her finding the perfect bloke before everything go so out of hand.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said, snatching one of the glasses and taking a much-needed gulp.
Her mum sat down beside her, and Henri felt a flicker of a smile as she lifted her glass and took a sip. She rarely drank but when she did, she was much more of a wine or G&T person. Henri had been questioning whether it was a good idea to come clean, but guilt swamped her at the sight of her mother drinking whiskey. For her.
Besides, she needed to get this off her chest—she was finished with lying, it was exhausting—and so she told her mother everything. All that she’d told Tilley and then some, confessing not only to the charade and the sex, but also that their fling had somehow morphed into something else. At least on her side.
‘I guess I was doing such a good job of acting that I even fooled myself. I thought that what we felt was just physical and that I could do it without getting hurt, but … I guess I was wrong.’
When she was finished, Henri braced herself for a lecture about how lying never ended well, but it didn’t come. Instead, when she looked at her mother, she saw tears in her eyes.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry that because of me, you felt you needed to pretend. And I’m sorry that because of me you ended up getting hurt. I didn’t realise how pressured I was making you feel. I know it’s no excuse, but I always had the best intentions. I just want you to be happy, but I forget sometimes that happiness isn’t the same for everyone. It’s hard for me to understand that you don’t want love, marriage and babies.’
Henri shook her head. ‘Of course I want that, Mum—well, not the babies, sorry, and not necessarily marriage either. But companionship, love, I want those things—however, life isn’t a Danielle Steel novel. It just doesn’t work that way for everyone, and I don’t want to sacrifice who I am to get it. If I ever do settle down, it’ll be with someone who’s happy for me to continue to do what I love and wants to work with me to make that possible. That guy is not Liam.’
Before her mother could say anything to that, she added, ‘And it’s not anyone who you might think is right for me. I need you to stop trying to direct my life and just accept me for who I am. I want coming home to visit to be a joy, something I look forward to, not something I dread because I’m not living up to your dreams for me. You never even ask me about my work, all you do is try and get me to stop. And every time you suggest a local guy that would be perfect for me to settle down with … well, it makes me feel like shit.’
‘Oh, honey,’ her mum gushed, ‘you are everything I want you to be and so much more. I’m so sorry I ever let you believe otherwise. I just love you so much and, I’ll be frank, doing what you do frightens the living daylights out of me, but I know it’s who you are, and I know that my fear is foolish. That the boys or Tilley are just as likely to have something terrible happen to them in a freak accident, but I can’t help it.’
‘It’s not foolish,’ Henri said, thinking it was definitely best not to mention her near-miss in the Kimberleys. You didn’t need to be a mother to understand that it must be terrifying to have incubated something, birthed it, raised it and then had to send it out into the world to fend for itself.
But despite her assurance, her mother started sobbing anyway. For a moment Henri sat there like a stunned mullet gaping at the sight—her mother was so strong, she could only ever remember her crying when her dad died—but then something snapped. She shoved the wicker basket onto the floor and pulled her into a fierce hug. ‘You’re not supposed to be the one crying, I am.’
Although she’d bawled so much today that maybe she was all out of tears.
If only she was all out of heartbreak as well.
‘I love you so much, Henri, and I’m so proud of you. Don’t ever doubt that.’
No, apparently she wasn’t out of tears, because at her mother’s shortening of her name, great, unexpected waves of emotion overcame her, and they burst forth like a dam that had only just been managing to contain itself. She clung to her mum like she hadn’t done in years. After a while it became hard to tell who was comforting who, but Henri knew two things for sure. She’d never felt so vulnerable in her life—not after Max’s sister had called and told her about his indiscretions, not even when she’d had to crash land—and she’d also never felt closer to her mother.
‘Do you want to give up and call it a night?’ her mum asked when their sobs finally subsided and they’d almost used up the whole box of tissues.
With a sniff, Henri took one more sip of her now watery whiskey and then picked up the knitting needles again. ‘No, I’m determined to conquer this, but you can go to bed if you want.’
‘I think I’ll sit with you a little longer, if you don’t mind.’
‘Not at all.’
Half an hour later, after much cursing and many more false starts, Henri finally got the hang of it, and as she methodically knitted row after row, her mother talked animatedly about various town committees and the disagreements members were having.
As usual, Henri didn’t know all the people she was talking about, but it was exactly what she needed.