“Sorry,” said Troy. “I just didn’t want you to think I’d forgotten.”
They watched the ferry bump clumsily to a stop. The passengers emerged across the gangway. A savage-eyed seagull stalked toward them in the hope of something better than croissant crumbs.
“This one worked,” said Claire quietly.
He said nothing. She thought he didn’t get it.
“I know it did,” said Troy finally, without looking at her. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you.”
“You know?” She swung sideways to look at him. “How do you know?”
“I just knew. The moment I saw you. Something about your face. And you’re not drinking your coffee.”
“That’s not why. It just tastes really strange today.”
“It tastes strange today because you’re pregnant,” said Troy. “It’s great coffee.”
She looked with astonishment at the takeaway coffee cup. “I can’t believe you worked that out before me.”
“I know you,” said Troy quietly. He lifted a hand quickly, as if to accept a fair penalty by the ref. “Sorry. I mean, I knew you. I once knew you.”
They sat in silence and watched the ferry heading back out toward the horizon, and the grief for what could have been and what could now never be bowed their heads.
“I wish I could tell my mother about this,” said Troy.
“I wish I could tell your mother about it too,” said Claire.
She wished so many things were different about this moment, except for the baby, who would be cherished, who had been created out of modern medicine and love, reluctant, guilty, complicated love, but still love.
Somehow it would all work out. She would make sure of it.
Chapter 57
“Troy thinks Dad is going to be arrested today,” said Logan.
“What does Troy know?” said Indira Mallick, and she realized she’d automatically slipped into the role of supporting Logan in the ongoing competition between him and his younger brother, although only Troy openly wanted to win.
Indira and Logan sat at the glass-topped table where they used to eat dinner each night.
She’d told Logan that she was here in Sydney for a friend’s baby shower, and it was true, but she would never have flown all this way for an awful baby shower. She’d come for Logan. “You’re still in love with him,” accused a friend as they cooed, “So cute!” each time the guest of honor opened another gift and held it up above the proud pregnant curve of her stomach. Indira had informed her sternly that her ex-boyfriend’s mother was missing. She was here as a friend.
“How is Amy coping?” she asked Logan.
“She’s okay. I think she’s actually in a session right now with her therapist, or counselor, or whatever we’re meant to call him,” said Logan.
“That’s good,” said Indira. “She should probably—”
She stopped herself. She was no longer a part of the Delaney family and therefore no longer entitled to an opinion about how Amy should manage her mental health.
Amy had once told Indira that she was pigeonholed because she was easily offended when she was a child and now everyone assumed she was still easily offended, which was offensive. Indira had sympathized because she too was pigeonholed by her family as the “clumsy one,” even though she was no longer especially clumsy.
She picked up one of the “missing person” flyers on Logan’s table. It was too busy, with too many different typefaces. It broke her heart that she hadn’t been the one to design it. The photo showed Joy wearing a T-shirt that Indira had given her. It was screen-printed with three big gerberas. She and Joy had a shared fondness for the flower. They bought little gerbera-themed gifts for each other.
“Do you want any help putting these flyers up?” she asked Logan.
“It’s okay,” said Logan. “They’re everywhere. I feel like we’ve done everything possible to get the word out there. She’s just … vanished.”
Indira looked at Joy’s smiling face. Logan’s mother would never deliberately stay out of contact for this long. She was the sort of person who kept effortlessly in touch with everyone. Even after Indira broke up with Logan, Joy had continued to send the occasional nonintrusive text or email, filled with exclamation marks and emojis.