Page 150 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
He heard everything in that one word. No sorrow, no longing, just resignation. Someone who’d maybe been waiting seventeen years to be contacted, knowing that one day it would come to this and they’d feel…not happy, not sad, just resigned.
“Don’t worry.” His blood rushed around his body, setting him alight with fury. “You don’t need to meet me. You don’t need to speak to me after this call. Seventeen years spent wanting to know why you never came back to get me like you promised, and all I needed to understand was that you didn’t love me enough. Just as you didn’t when I was taken into care by the local authorities. Youwereasked to take me, weren’t you?”
His heart was beating in his throat, fluttering like a trapped bird.
“I couldn’t. When I left, I needed a new beginning. I had to hide from your father. I had to cut all links. You needed to go to school. If I’d come back for you, he’d have found us. Then I met a man who wanted to take care of me and my first thought was I could get you, but then I realised how it would look that I’d left you behind, so I never told him I had a son. My husband still doesn’t know about you.”
Jonty had wanted his father to have lied, though his guess that he hadn’t turned out to be right. There were harsh things he could have said to her. Had she wondered after she’d left if Jonty would be beaten instead of her? He could have asked if she slept easy at night, if she ever wondered what he was doing, if he was all right, if he was happy, but what was the point? She’d made her decision seventeen years ago and he guessed they’d both paid for it. Jonty in a desperate longing to know the truth. His mother by sticking her head in the sand.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered and ended the call.
Devan pulled into the drive of Sunshine Cottage and turned off the engine.
“Delete the number. Block her,” Jonty said. “Do it now. Don’t ask me if I’m sure. I am.”
Devan took out his phone and Jonty climbed from the car. He took a deep breath, but the air was thick and hard to inhale.She doesn’t love me. She doesn’t want to see me. She doesn’t care what sort of man I am. Maybe she loved me when I was little, but she doesn’t now.It hurt. And was he even remembering the truth of those early years? Had she ever loved him?
Arms wrapped around him and Devan pressed his face into Jonty’s hair. “It’s done.”
“Promise?”
“Yes, but she could still leave a voicemail.”
“Which you never need to open.” Jonty turned in his arms.
“Are you okay? Stupid question. Sorry.”
“Despite my fucked-up life, I like to think the best of people. I figured it wasn’t healthy to go through life distrusting everyone. I’ve always hoped for too much. That my father would change, that my mother would come for me, that Brad would leave me alone, that Tay would get better, that I’d win the lottery, which wasn’t going to happen because I’ve never bought a ticket.” Hehuffed. “Hope kept me going. Hope put a smile on my face. No point being miserable when things might get better that day or the next or the one after.”
“You smile in your sleep. I’ve never known anyone who does that.”
Jonty gave a short laugh. “Sexy dreams.”
“Maybe, but I think it’s you. You have sunshine in your soul.”
“And a lump in my throat that I can’t seem to swallow.”
“Are you sorry I looked for her?”
“No. Seventeen years is long enough. I can let go now.”I have someone more important in my life.But maybe not for long.
Devan pulled Jonty into the house and closed the door. “I feel slightly anxious about saying this, bearing in mind Brad’s behaviour, but I’m not going to let you go. You’re going to try and push me away and I don’t want that to happen. This isn’t the day to talk about the future, but we will talk about it. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Chapter Twenty
WHEN DEVAN WOKE THE NEXTmorning, it was almost ten and Jonty was still sleeping, curled up like a comma though not smiling. Devan snuck out of bed, pulled on one of the towelling robes provided by the house, picked up his phone and went down to make coffee. Once it was brewing, he slid open the bi-fold doors and stepped outside. The blast of chilly air made him shiver, but he didn’t want to make this call with a risk of Jonty hearing. He closed the door.
“Morning,” Alan said.
Devan grimaced at Alan’s sharp tone. “Morning. I thought you might like to know that the meeting McAllister had with his staff yesterday went well. No knives thrown.”
“I’d already heard. I expected to hear from you.”
He had no chance of explaining yesterday in a few words, nor did he want to. “Sorry. I got tied up with something.”
“And the chef?”
