But every day she stayed here, every day she went into town, the odds increased that Tamsyn would stumble over something or someone that would lead her to her mother. And what if, for some reason, she gained access to the locked room? He knew the deadlock on the door was a good one—he’d installed it himself and had the only key on a hook in a cupboard in his office, but it still made him uneasy to think of how many secrets were separated from Tamsyn by only one door.
He executed a line and turned to come back the other way, constantly aware of Tamsyn’s presence inside the cottage. She was going to be devastated when she found out the truth. And furious with him. Lorenzo had put him in an untenable position, one he planned to discuss with the older man tomorrow morning when he caught up with him in Wellington.
Finn had to meet with some business associates during his time in the capital city, but he planned to spend as much time as he could at the hospital with Ellen, too. He needed to see for himself if she’d be capable of withstanding a visit from the daughter she’d left so long ago.
He tried not to think about what had happened with his own mother. About how her mental state had been so fragile that when her medical team had finally deemed her well enough to have a visit from her only son, it had tipped her completely over the edge instead. All the twelve-year-old Finn had known at the time was that he was somehow responsible for what had happened. That seeing him, a younger version of his father, had made her elect to give up resuming her old life. That it would make her choose to opt out of life altogether.
He couldn’t let that happen to Ellen. Couldn’t let that happen to another mother figure in his life. But he couldn’t stand the thought that choosing to protect Ellen set Tamsyn up to be hurt instead.
Finn finished the lawns and rode the mower toward the implements shed. He grabbed his T-shirt from the shelf where he’d thrown it and tugged it on. He hadn’t been oblivious to Tamsyn’s unmasked appreciation of his body. If he hadn’t been so determined to tread softly with her he might have done something about it today, but her casually thrown out remark about him hiding her mother had hit just a little too close to the mark.
He was hiding Ellen from her. Maybe not physically, but he was definitely keeping the truth from her. A truth he was struggling now to justify keeping to himself. He forced himself to clear his mind. To focus instead on his visit to Wellington and the decisions he would make after he’d seen Ellen for himself. And the fight he would no doubt have with Lorenzo when he made them.
* * *
Friday rolled around all too slowly. Tamsyn had been achingly aware of the empty house up on the hill the whole time Finn had been away. It had left her unsettled, especially as they’d parted on what she thought were less than good terms. She hoped to rectify that today and had already left a message on his voice mail inviting him for dinner at the cottage tonight. Depending on how his trip had gone, she hoped he’d prefer an evening where he didn’t have to fend for himself. Even so, her voice had been a little on the wobbly-nervous side when she’d left her message.
Yesterday’s trip into Blenheim had been another wasted effort and today’s to Nelson was no better. She was beginning to wonder if her mother had even lived in the region at all. It was hard not to just give up on it all and walk away.
She reminded herself that today marked only the seventh day since she’d arrived in New Zealand. It was still way too early to call it quits. Maybe she needed some professional help in her quest, though. Next week she might look into hiring a private investigator.
Somehow, though, she was reluctant to turn the search over to someone else. This was her journey, her need to find her mother. She wanted so much to have control over it. Her father had taken away her right to know her mother. Trent had taken away her right to expect happiness and a future through their relationship. She’d worked too hard for too long to please men who, in the end, had chosen what was best for themselves with no genuine regard for her feelings or needs.
So where did that leave her with Finn? She sank into a worn easy chair in the sitting room of the cottage and stared out the bay window. Lucy, as usual, sat in pride of place, her eyes drifting closed in the sun now her toilette was complete.
Finn hadn’t made her any promises. He’d just been here. Available—except for the past two days. He hadn’t pushed her when they’d kissed on Tuesday night, a kiss she still relived in all its sensation-soaked glory each night when she went to bed, leaving her sleep fractured and her body unrested and aching with unresolved tension. She’d tried physical exertion around the cottage to wear herself out each afternoon and into the early evening, but it had only served to add more aches upon the pains. Even a soak in the large tub each evening hadn’t been enough to ease them away.