Page 171 of The Secret We Keep
Julie rubs my arm closest to her reassuringly. “The last place we went to did wonders for her. It was coming back that had her slipping into old habits.”
I lift my mug to my lips, pausing to ask, “When did you take her?”
Julie looks up to the ceiling. “She went just before you came back.” She sighs heavily, looking away from me. “She was doing so well. But she thought we’d been on holiday. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.”
Jesus Christ.
“No wonder she didn’t have a tan.”
The smile Julie gives me is nothing but sadness. “She read in between therapy sessions and began new medication. That was it. We visited, but she thought we were returning from the pool or coming back from a walk. She was so lost, Paddy. My little girl, she was gone.”
Julie drops her head into her arms, resting on her knees.
“She’ll be okay.” She has to be.
Sniffing, Julie looks at me. “If she has you, I know she will be.” She nods, blinking hard. “Because you’ve brought out the daughter I lost. You’ve given her so much that neither me nor Bill could give her. She needs you, Paddy. She needs you to push her. She needs you to guide her through her shadows and show her that shecanlive with this.”
My throat burns and I have to swipe under my eye. “I’m not going anywhere without her.”
Because she’s my everything.
My girl.
My curly fries.
My forever.
Please see what I can see
Morgan
Ididashesaid and pulled out an old photo album collection Mum started when we were kids. Hating storing them on the computer, she swears by keeping something you can touch. Something you can feel to remember the moment.
Tangible proof? Is that what he meant?
Like I did when I looked through my diaries, I lean against my bed and flick through the albums, feeling as though I’m being lied to. A dull haze has me trapped underneath it. I can’t see the way out. I don’t know what’s real or not.
But Hollyisreal. I know that.
Holding up my hand in front of me, I can see it. I know it’s there. I know I’m in control when I wiggle my fingers, seeing them move.
So why, when I listened to the conversation that Paddy recorded, could I only hear my voice? I know that conversation was real. I remember every word.
It doesn’t make any sense.
Reaching for my phone, I send Holly a message, my head spinning in total confusion.
Sorry we argued. Can you come back tomine so we can talk?
Waiting for her to reply, I study the photos around me, happy memories provoking a mixture of emotions.
When a knock comes on the door, I look up before staring down at the photo in my hand. “Come in.” My throat is dry and burning as my stomach knots.
Paddy opens my bedroom door, holding a cup of tea, his eyes looking over the photos scattered across my floor before landing heavily on mine. The sadness on his face rips my heart out. “The floor was uncomfortable.” He nods to outside my room, using the carpet as an excuse to come in here.
I don’t smile. Can’t find the energy to. Instead, I nod, unable to let him know how I am. Because that’s what he wants; to make sure I’m okay. How can I say that I am when I don’t even know myself?
Looking down at the photo in my hand, I run a soft stroke over the image. “I remember this like it was yesterday.”
