“You went hang-gliding and both harnesses failed,” Callum says as he joins us at the table. He sets a cup of coffee in front of Steve, then sits down and sips his own cup. “Dinah was able to deploy her emergency ’chute. You dropped into the ocean. I spent four weeks searching for your body.”
A crooked grin pops up on Steve’s face. “And only five million, you said. Did you cheap out on me, old man?”
Callum doesn’t find this amusing. His expression grows as stony as the face of a cliff. “Why didn’t you come straight home after you’d been rescued? It’s been nine months, for Pete’s sake.”
Steve runs a shaky hand over his jaw. “Because I didn’t get rescued until a few days ago.”
“What?” Callum looks startled. “So where the hell were you for all those months?”
“I don’t know if it was the illness or malnourishment, but I can’t remember everything. I washed up on shore on Tavi—a tiny island about two hundred miles east of Tonga. I was severely dehydrated and in and out of consciousness for weeks. The natives took care of me, and I would have returned earlier except the only way off the island was via a fishing boat that comes around twice a year to trade with the islanders.”
Your dad is talking, my brain tells me. I search his face for traces of myself and find nothing except our shared eye color. Other than that, I have my mother’s features, her body type, her hair. I’m the younger, blue-eyed version of Maggie Harper, but she must’ve made no impression on Steve because he shows no signs of recognition.
“Apparently the islanders harvest a particular seagull egg that is sold as a delicacy in Asia. The fishing boat took me to Tonga where I then begged my way back to Sydney.” He takes a sip of his coffee before making the understatement of the century. “It’s a miracle I’m alive.”
“When did you get to Sydney?” Sebastian asks.
My dad purses his lips in thought. “I don’t remember. I want to say three days ago?”
Callum balks. “And you didn’t think to call and tell us you were alive?”
“I had some matters to take care of,” Steve says tightly. “I knew that if I called, you’d be on the first plane out, and I didn’t want to be distracted from my search for answers.”
“Answers?” Reed echoes, his tone sharper than before.
“I went to find the guide who led the hang-gliding expedition, and track down my things. I’d left behind my passport, a wallet, clothes.”
“Did you find the guide?” Easton’s caught up in the story, too. We all are.
“No. The tour guide had been missing for months. Once I hit that dead end, I went to the American embassy and they shipped me home. I came directly here from the airport.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t go home,” Callum says grimly. “Or you might’ve been arrested, too.”
“Where’s my wife?” Steve asks, sounding wary. “Dinah and Brooke are attached at the hip.”
“Dinah’s still in Paris.”
“What were they doing there?”
“She and Brooke were shopping,” Callum pauses. “For the wedding.”
Steve snorts. “What schmuck got suckered in for that?”
“This one.” Callum points to himself.
“You’re kidding.”
“She was pregnant. I thought it was mine.”
“But you had the vas—” Steve cuts himself off and quickly looks around the table to see if anyone had caught his slip.
“The vasectomy?” Easton finishes.
Callum’s eyes cut to me before shifting back to his son. “You know about that?”
“I told them.” I jut my chin. “There are too many stupid secrets in this house.”
“I agree,” Steve declares. He turns to pin those familiar blue eyes on me. “Callum,” he says without taking his gaze off mine. “Now that I’ve answered all your questions, perhaps you can respond to one of mine. Who is this delightful young woman?”
Reed’s hand tightens over my thigh. The knot in my stomach feels like a block of cement now, but at some point, the truth had to come out. Might as well be now.
“Don’t you recognize me?” I ask, smiling weakly. “I’m your daughter.”
4
Ella
I don’t think Steve O’Halloran is a man who’s caught off guard too often. Pure shock stiffens his body and floods his expression.
“My…” He trails off, turning to Callum for…assistance? Support? I’m not sure.
But for a man who so casually asked if someone had “offed” his wife, he doesn’t seem equipped to handle the less dramatic revelation that he’s sitting at the same table as his kid.
“Daughter,” Callum finishes gently.
Steve blinks in rapid succession.
“Do you remember the letter you received before you and Dinah left for your trip?” Callum asks.
Steve slowly shakes his head. “A letter… From whom?”
“From Ella’s mother.”
“Maggie,” I say, my voice hoarse. Thinking about my mom always makes my heart ache. “You met her eighteen years ago when you were on shore leave. You two…uh…”
“Hooked up. Knocked boots. Did the horizontal mamba,” Easton supplies.
“Ella’s mother got pregnant.” Callum takes over before his son says the million inappropriate things we all see dangling at the end of his tongue. “She tried to track you down during the pregnancy but was unsuccessful. When she was diagnosed with cancer, she sent a letter to your old base, hoping they’d find a way to get it to you. And they did. You received the letter nine months ago, right before you left.”
Steve is blinking again. After a few seconds, his eyes focus and he stares intently at me. Curious. Pleased.
I squirm in my chair, which causes Reed to stroke my leg in reassurance. He knows I don’t like to be the center of attention, and right now everyone in the room is looking at me.
“You’re Maggie’s daughter,” Steve says, his tone a mixture of wonder and interest. “She passed away?”
I nod, because the lump in my throat is too big to speak around.
A crooked grin pops up on Steve’s face. “And only five million, you said. Did you cheap out on me, old man?”
Callum doesn’t find this amusing. His expression grows as stony as the face of a cliff. “Why didn’t you come straight home after you’d been rescued? It’s been nine months, for Pete’s sake.”
Steve runs a shaky hand over his jaw. “Because I didn’t get rescued until a few days ago.”
“What?” Callum looks startled. “So where the hell were you for all those months?”
“I don’t know if it was the illness or malnourishment, but I can’t remember everything. I washed up on shore on Tavi—a tiny island about two hundred miles east of Tonga. I was severely dehydrated and in and out of consciousness for weeks. The natives took care of me, and I would have returned earlier except the only way off the island was via a fishing boat that comes around twice a year to trade with the islanders.”
Your dad is talking, my brain tells me. I search his face for traces of myself and find nothing except our shared eye color. Other than that, I have my mother’s features, her body type, her hair. I’m the younger, blue-eyed version of Maggie Harper, but she must’ve made no impression on Steve because he shows no signs of recognition.
“Apparently the islanders harvest a particular seagull egg that is sold as a delicacy in Asia. The fishing boat took me to Tonga where I then begged my way back to Sydney.” He takes a sip of his coffee before making the understatement of the century. “It’s a miracle I’m alive.”
“When did you get to Sydney?” Sebastian asks.
My dad purses his lips in thought. “I don’t remember. I want to say three days ago?”
Callum balks. “And you didn’t think to call and tell us you were alive?”
“I had some matters to take care of,” Steve says tightly. “I knew that if I called, you’d be on the first plane out, and I didn’t want to be distracted from my search for answers.”
“Answers?” Reed echoes, his tone sharper than before.
“I went to find the guide who led the hang-gliding expedition, and track down my things. I’d left behind my passport, a wallet, clothes.”
“Did you find the guide?” Easton’s caught up in the story, too. We all are.
“No. The tour guide had been missing for months. Once I hit that dead end, I went to the American embassy and they shipped me home. I came directly here from the airport.”
“It’s a good thing you didn’t go home,” Callum says grimly. “Or you might’ve been arrested, too.”
“Where’s my wife?” Steve asks, sounding wary. “Dinah and Brooke are attached at the hip.”
“Dinah’s still in Paris.”
“What were they doing there?”
“She and Brooke were shopping,” Callum pauses. “For the wedding.”
Steve snorts. “What schmuck got suckered in for that?”
“This one.” Callum points to himself.
“You’re kidding.”
“She was pregnant. I thought it was mine.”
“But you had the vas—” Steve cuts himself off and quickly looks around the table to see if anyone had caught his slip.
“The vasectomy?” Easton finishes.
Callum’s eyes cut to me before shifting back to his son. “You know about that?”
“I told them.” I jut my chin. “There are too many stupid secrets in this house.”
“I agree,” Steve declares. He turns to pin those familiar blue eyes on me. “Callum,” he says without taking his gaze off mine. “Now that I’ve answered all your questions, perhaps you can respond to one of mine. Who is this delightful young woman?”
Reed’s hand tightens over my thigh. The knot in my stomach feels like a block of cement now, but at some point, the truth had to come out. Might as well be now.
“Don’t you recognize me?” I ask, smiling weakly. “I’m your daughter.”
4
Ella
I don’t think Steve O’Halloran is a man who’s caught off guard too often. Pure shock stiffens his body and floods his expression.
“My…” He trails off, turning to Callum for…assistance? Support? I’m not sure.
But for a man who so casually asked if someone had “offed” his wife, he doesn’t seem equipped to handle the less dramatic revelation that he’s sitting at the same table as his kid.
“Daughter,” Callum finishes gently.
Steve blinks in rapid succession.
“Do you remember the letter you received before you and Dinah left for your trip?” Callum asks.
Steve slowly shakes his head. “A letter… From whom?”
“From Ella’s mother.”
“Maggie,” I say, my voice hoarse. Thinking about my mom always makes my heart ache. “You met her eighteen years ago when you were on shore leave. You two…uh…”
“Hooked up. Knocked boots. Did the horizontal mamba,” Easton supplies.
“Ella’s mother got pregnant.” Callum takes over before his son says the million inappropriate things we all see dangling at the end of his tongue. “She tried to track you down during the pregnancy but was unsuccessful. When she was diagnosed with cancer, she sent a letter to your old base, hoping they’d find a way to get it to you. And they did. You received the letter nine months ago, right before you left.”
Steve is blinking again. After a few seconds, his eyes focus and he stares intently at me. Curious. Pleased.
I squirm in my chair, which causes Reed to stroke my leg in reassurance. He knows I don’t like to be the center of attention, and right now everyone in the room is looking at me.
“You’re Maggie’s daughter,” Steve says, his tone a mixture of wonder and interest. “She passed away?”
I nod, because the lump in my throat is too big to speak around.
