‘To begin with there were visits. But they didn’t really work. I tried to make myself scarce, but their dad was so devastated and angry and bitter that he poisoned their minds against her. In the end they felt they had to make a choice and they told her they didn’t want to see her any more.’
‘That is terrible. But it’s not on you.’ She knew he still believed it was, however much his head told him otherwise.
‘Just like your parents’ divorce, your father’s alcoholism, isn’t on you.’
‘It’s more complicated than that,’ she said slowly, knowing that she was finally going to tell Ben everything.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
BEN SENSED THAT she was on the cusp of sharing something with him that would be the key to unlocking her. He had no idea how the conversation had evolved to this point, but he knew he regretted none of it.
‘Tell me,’ he said gently.
‘I had a twin sister. Imogen—Imo. My other half...my double. We were identical. On the outside anyway. It turned out that the inside was a different matter.’
Her voice was so sad that his heart ached, even as his brain tried to take in the enormity of her words.
‘She had leukaemia. We found out when she was fourteen. When we were fifteen she...she lost the fight. Passed away. Such stupid phrases. She died, dammit. Imo died. That’s all I could think at the funeral—through all the lovely words, the eulogy, the hymns. Imo was dead. I’d never talk to her again, never see her. Instead all I would see, every time I looked in the mirror, was me. The spitting image of Imo. But I lived and she died. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. My beautiful sister. And how the hell was that fair? What quirk of genetic inheritance left me healthy and well and sent her to her grave?’
She stopped, swiped a hand across her eyes and blinked. The anguish in her eyes tore at him and he rose from his chair, moved to her side and took her hands in his.
‘I’m so sorry...’ It was all he could think of to say on a repeat loop. ‘So very sorry. It’s OK to cry. Let it out. I’m so very sorry.’
And then she did cry—heaving sobs that racked her body even as he held her, stroking her back, murmuring words of comfort.
Finally, she gave a last hiccup and pulled away, covering her face in her hands. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t believe I’ve just sobbed all over you. I feel like an idiot.’
‘You aren’t an idiot. You’re grieving. That grief will always be a part of you, like your sister was.’ He took her hands in his. ‘I am deeply sorry for your loss. I cannot imagine what it must have felt like then or what it still feels like now.’
It explained so much about her—about the choices she had made.
He took a deep breath. ‘It’s not surprising you went off the rails. Or that your parents’ marriage suffered and your father turned to alcoholism. But your father’s actions are still not your fault.’
‘But he believes it is my fault,’ she said dully. ‘I saw the pain in his eyes every time he looked at me. I reminded him of what he’d lost and he couldn’t bear it.’
Ben’s heart broke. How she must have hated herself, knowing that every time anyone looked at her she would be a reminder of loss and grief. Every time she looked at herself she saw her sister. Just as when the man he had believed was his father had looked at him, he’d served as a reminder of his wife’s betrayal.
‘That is still not on you. You were hurting too—you’d lost your twin. His actions hurt you, and it’s OK to be angry about that. But it sounds like your dad wants to make amends, to take responsibility. Maybe he deserves a chance of reconciliation.’
She looked up at that. ‘Would you do it? Would you reconcile with your brothers?’
‘No.’ His voice was flat. ‘Because I don’t believe that would be productive. But I have facilitated a reconciliation between my mum and my brothers.’
‘It’s not a business deal,’ she said softly.
‘Sure it is.’ That was how he always handled relationships. ‘I traced them. Their dad had remarried and emigrated to Australia. I gave Mum the details and persuaded her to contact them via social media. They’re in contact and I am really hoping Mum will fly out to Australia soon.’
‘But what about you?’
‘I want no part of it. I want my mum to forge a new relationship with them, to see her grandchildren, to have her family back. But I don’t want in.’
‘Why not? I get that it would be difficult, complicated, emotional, messy—all the things you loathe—but maybe it would be worth it?’
The earnestness of her expression and the compassion in her brown eyes touched him, even as the enormity of what she was suggesting terrified him. The whole idea was akin to throwing himself off a cliff into a vortex of messy, complicated emotions.
‘That’s not the way I roll. I’d rather stay out of it, live my life without complications.’ He squeezed her hands, wanting her to understand, to believe that this was truly the right way for him. ‘I don’t want involvement and all that comes with it. But it’s different for you. You live your life by different rules, you’re braver than me, and I believe you have the inner strength and the courage to face the difficulties and see your dad, to try and work it out. You have the generosity of heart to forgive and move on if you choose to do so. If it’s the right choice for you.’
Sarah smiled at him, the sheen of tears in her eyes. ‘Don’t make