‘Packed my stuff and handed me over to social services.’
Words failed her as anger and compassion intertwined—no wonder Ethan had judged himself as guilty when his own mother had disowned him.
‘Hey. Don’t look like that. For Mum the loss of Tanya was more than a tragedy—it was innately wrong. It should have been me.’
‘Did she say that?’
‘Yes.’
The syllable was spoken as if it was to be expected and Ruby’s heart tore.
‘I get that. She had a point.’
‘No, she did not!’ The words were a shout, but she couldn’t help it.
‘I let her down, Ruby. It is as simple as that. No one made me act that way.’
‘You were her son, Ethan—her child. You were acting out of your own grief and anger.’
Ruby clenched her fists. Why was he being so obdurate? But, of course, she knew the answer. Hope. Why had she persisted in believing in her own parents, long after they had proved they would never change? Same answer. Hope.
‘Have you seen your mum since?’
‘No. She is still on the estate, and every year I send her a cheque and a letter. Every year she doesn’t bank the cheque and she doesn’t answer the letter.’
The unfairness, the tragedy of it, banded her chest. ‘I understand that your mother had her own issues, but they were her issues. Would you ever do to a child what she did to you?’
Something flashed across his eyes and then he rubbed his hand down his face,
made a derisive sound in his throat. ‘Jeez. Let’s end this conversation. Okay? I’ve come to terms with it all and it’s no—’
‘If you say it’s no big deal I’ll scream. It’s a huge deal. You told me to fight for justice, that right and wrong matter. This matters, and this is injustice. Ethan, you told me you thought I would be a good parent.’
‘You will be.’
‘Well, a social worker told me once that damaged children like me repeat their parents’ mistakes. I don’t believe that has to be true and neither do you. That’s why you want to help kids like Max and Tara—because you believe they deserve a chance. So do you.’ Ruby hauled in breath. ‘You have judged yourself and you’ve judged wrong. Whether your mum can see it or not, you’re a good man, Ethan Caversham.’
For a second she thought she’d made some sort of impact, but then his broad shoulders lifted.
‘Sure, Ruby. Whatever you want. I’m a good man.’
The self-mockery evident.
‘You are. And you deserve love. Real, proper love.’
It all seemed so clear to her now—exactly why Ethan had his heart under such a guard, his emotions in lockdown. The only person who had loved him was the sister he felt he had let down—a sister he had lost so tragically. The mother who should have loved him had condemned him from birth.
‘You do not have to be alone in that boat, Ethan. All family relationships do not have to end in tragedy. Love doesn’t always have to go wrong.’
Discomfort etched his face, was clear in his stance as he rocked back on his heels, hands in his pockets. ‘Leave it, Ruby.’
‘I can’t. You deserve love.’ How could she make him see that? ‘For what it’s worth, I love you.’
His face was leached of colour; blue-grey eyes burned with a light she couldn’t interpret. Eventually he stepped back.
‘It’s not love. It’s what you felt for Hugh, for Steve, for Gary. You said it yourself—you’re not a good judge of character.’
‘Ouch. That is below the belt.’