“Yes, of course I am,” she answered. She knew where he kept the key, so that wasn’t going to be an problem. “I’ll take care of it. You had better go. I’ll see you when you get back. I’ll miss you.”
“I’ll miss you too,” he said. “We’ll talk when I get back. I’ve been thinking…about the future. Our future.”
“Our future?” Tamsyn’s heart fluttered in her chest.
Her love for Finn grew stronger every day. To hear him mention a word like future was a light in the darkness. A shred of hope that things would come right.
“I—hell, I didn’t want to say this the first time over the phone, but I need to. I love you, Tamsyn. I’ll be back soon.”
He cut the link between them before she could answer but it didn’t stop her continuing to press the phone to her ear as if doing so could extend their contact a few moments longer. Eventually she put the phone down and wrapped her arms around herself as joy built from deep inside. She danced a little jig around the kitchen island, hugging herself tight until she threw her arms out with a squeal of happiness. Everything was going to be all right. She just knew it.
* * *
It was a week before Christmas and the crowd for the end-of-year Christmas potluck meal at the seniors’ center was swollen with extras Tamsyn had never met before. Given the greetings that flew back and forth, several had been away or unwell and unable to attend, but all had made a monumental effort to attend this last get-together for the year. The tables groaned with the bring-a-plate offerings and the Secret Santa gifts under the artificial tree Tamsyn had erected and decorated quickly this morning were plentiful.
This was going to be a great day, she thought as she watched everyone’s happy faces. She moved through the crowd, ensuring all the guests had what they needed. As she did so, she picked up snippets of conversations that made her smile. Grandparent rivalry was thick in the air, from all accounts. One conversation, though, made her pause as a name hung in the air.
“Did you hear how Ellen is doing?” one of the new faces asked one of the regulars.
“Still in hospital from what I heard,” the regular responded with a dour look on her face. “And it’s not looking good.”
“Oh, dear, that poor woman. Poor Lorenzo.”
Her mother was in hospital? Was that why Lorenzo was being so protective? All the air drove out of Tamsyn’s lungs.
The new woman continued. “So is she still local? Can we visit?”
“No,” came the reply. “She’s in Wellington. They airlifted her there weeks ago. Heart, kidneys, liver—all failing. Tragic, just tragic.”
The other woman nodded in understanding. “So sad.”
Tamsyn wheeled away from the group, desperate for a quiet place where she could think for a moment—process what she’d just heard. She’d hoped, eventually, for a snippet of information to come her way and lead her to her mother, but she’d never anticipated it being anything like this.
A gnarled hand on her arm, accompanied by the reek of stale cigarettes, made her flinch.
“You heard that, didn’t you?” Gladys rasped. “Are you all right, lovey?”
Tamsyn could only shake her head.
“’spected as much. It was only a matter of time before someone let something slip.”
“I have to go,” Tamsyn finally managed to say through numb lips.
“I’ll take care of things,” Gladys said with a look of understanding in her rheumy eyes that was just about Tamsyn’s undoing. “For what it’s worth, we’re all very sorry about your mum.”
Afterward she didn’t remember actually driving from town back to Finn’s house. All she remembered was sitting in his office, the office of the man who’d known all along that her mother was in a hospital in Wellington, dying, and who had kept that information from her. Honor? Promises? Love? They could all be damned. This situation went beyond a vow, beyond loyalty to another man.
Anger kept her from falling apart as she methodically checked every hospital in the book until she struck pay dirt. Her glow of success was short-lived, hitting a wall when the patient-inquiries staff wouldn’t give her the status of her mother’s health, insisting she was not on the authorized list of family members.
More research turned up a flight to Wellington that would take a half hour. She sank back in the chair. All this time her mother had been just across Cook Strait, a short hop in a plane. Determination saw her book the last seat on the next flight out, and kept her sane as she drove to Blenheim airport.
* * *
“I’m sorry, miss, but we cannot disclose the patient’s details.” The young woman behind the patient-inquiries window was sympathetic but adamant.