The High Price of Secrets

“Sounds deep. Want to talk about it?”

Tamsyn sat silent for a moment or two. Did she want to talk about it? She wasn’t sure. She certainly didn’t want to spoil what had started out to be a lovely evening by delving into her doubts and questions.

“Not really,” she decided out loud. “I’ll deal with it in my own way.”

“If you ever need an ear or a shoulder—” he tapped himself on the chest “—you can apply here.”

They turned their discussion to generalities about the area and Finn soon had Tamsyn in stitches over some of the stories about Gladys from the hall office from when he was a boy. Seems she’d been old even then. Mind you, Tamsyn mused, maybe some people were just born old.

Finn suggested they return inside after he’d grilled the steaks. He turned perfectly baked potatoes onto their plates together with their steaks and took them to a casual dining table just inside the French doors. He put her salad onto the table, poured them each a glass of red wine and sat down.

By the time they finished, it was growing dark. They lingered over their wine, Tamsyn mindful that she still had to negotiate the driveway and a small section of road before she reached home tonight.

“You know,” she said, gesturing to the darkening vista spread before them, “where your house is reminds me a lot of Masters Rise. It was our family home before it was destroyed by bushfires nearly forty years ago. But it had an outlook like this, over the vineyards.”

“It must have been a struggle for your family rebuilding after the fire.”

“Yeah, it was. I think that’s part of the reason our father was so distant with us as kids. He was focused on re-creating what the old days had been like for the family. Between him, his brother and my aunt, they have all had a hand in restoring the vineyards and the family business. It was pretty demanding.”

So demanding that the man hadn’t had time for his wife, Finn thought angrily. He’d been eight years old when Lorenzo and Ellen had arrived here and he still remembered the incredibly fragile woman Ellen had been. One thing had been constant for her, though. Her love for the children she’d been forced to leave behind. And now one of them sat here, with him. Finally making an effort to reconnect with a woman for whom it was all very possibly too late.

Finn forced his attention back to his guest.

“And your mother, where did she fit into all this?” It was hard to keep his emotions out of his voice.

“You know, I barely remember her. Sure, I have snippets of memories here and there, but I was just turning three when she left. I wonder, sometimes, what kind of woman just walks away from her children.”

“There are always two sides to every story.”

Finn reached for his wine and took a deep swallow. He ached to defend Ellen, but he couldn’t, not without betraying Lorenzo’s trust.

Tamsyn laughed. A sound that totally lacked humor, however, and bordered on the satirical.

“In our case I think there are way more than two sides. I grew up thinking my mother was dead. It was kind of a shock to find out she wasn’t.”

“Dead?”

Finn felt a chill seep through him. What had happened? Had John Masters been so intent on ensuring his wife walked away with nothing from their marriage that he’d even lied to their children? What kind of father did that to his kids? And what did that do to the children when they grew up and learned the truth?

Ten

“Ethan and I only found out recently, after our father died. If Ethan hadn’t queried some financial statements in the estate we still wouldn’t know.”

“Tell me what happened,” Finn urged, suddenly reminded of his own words that there were two sides to every story. So far he’d only heard Ellen’s version of events through Lorenzo’s protective filter.

“All I know is my mother tried to leave my father. Apparently she had Ethan and me in a car with her. She’d…she’d been drinking and lost control. Ethan and I were briefly hospitalized. Dad told our mom she could go if she wanted, but she wasn’t taking us with her. He agreed to pay her a monthly sum if she’d stay away. And she did. She just left. Dad had been making payments to her all this time. She accepted money to leave us behind.”

“And that’s why you want to find her now? To find out why?”

Tamsyn turned her wineglass around and around in her hands and he watched her as she stared at the ruby liquid inside the crystal bowl, her face pensive.

“Yes,” she said decisively, putting her wineglass down on the table with an audible clink. “I think I deserve to know why I had to grow up without a mother.”