Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103620 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
She has heard about how I met Danny in the boxing gym and the three of us formed (what we now know for sure is) an inseparable, unbreakable bond, and she was enraptured.
She has heard about the particulars of how we met her mother and her uncles and the grand plan to steal the Crown Jewels and she giggled with delight.
But now, hearing about the period of time Christine and I were alone, without Danny, and how she came to be conceived, she looks horribly worried.
“Yes,” I tell her in answer to the question, “she was.”
Her brow furrows deeper and she bites her lip. “And then… you and my mother…”
“Yes,” I answer, not wanting to make her finish the question.
She stares out at the ocean for a protracted beat before turning back to me and saying, “Sounds like you were a real twat back then.”
The bark of my laugh startles even me.
“Yes,” I say, pulling myself together, “that would be an accurate assessment.”
“And Christine just… she was okay with what happened?”
“Um. No. Not exactly.”
I open up my backpack and withdraw the little picnic I have prepared, spreading it out on the bluff as I ready myself to share the next part.
I do not want to lie to her, but I also want to be as delicate as possible, for, as sophisticated and dead clever as Andra is, she is also still a child. And the very point of the three of us having moved to this place and chosen to raise our family here has been to preserve and dignify that childhood for our girls. Because this was the last place Christine, Danny and I maybe felt something like innocence ourselves. It was its own fragmented type of innocence, to be certain, but it was there.
So, as I delve into this most painful chapter, I want to honor her and protect her all at once. Because at the end of the story, she will have a choice to make.
… SUNSET.
The day has gone quickly. Much quicker than I anticipated. The story is far more of an epic than even I remembered it to be. And as we are now nearing the end, I find that I am having to work harder and harder to maintain my composure as the details find their way out of my mouth and into the real world.
Andra has maintained hers, admirably. She never ceases to amaze.
“… and so, after a long talk with your uncles, we all decided that the best way to honor what your mother wanted was this. And thus… here we are.”
There’s a chill in the air now. Or maybe it isn’t the air that feels chilly.
Andra sits stock still for a long, long time. Finally she says, “So that’s why Uncle Theo has a limp?” I nod. “And why Danny has an eye patch.” I nod again. “Not because Theo fell chasing a dog and Danny banged his head on a rock spear-fishing.”
I shake my head. “Sorry. You were very young when you started asking and those were the best lies we could come up with at the time.”
Another long beat. “They were lies, though.”
“Yes.”
“But you were lying to… protect me?”
“That was the intention.”
“But you’re not lying now.”
“I have omitted some details out of respect, some out of custom, and some out of my inability to remember them, I’m sure, but to the best of my ability and knowledge, I have given you all the truth I have to give.”
She chews for a moment at the inside of her mouth. “Did you bury your brother?”
A question I was not expecting.
“We did. We had him flown back to South Africa and buried next to my mother.”
“What about your dad?”
“He was gone long, long before. It didn’t feel necessary to do more.”
She considers this. “Did you ever pay back the two hundred fifty thousand you owed my uncles?”
Another unexpected and, dare I say, cheeky question.
“That was between Danny and your Uncle Russell. And, yes, I think so.”
Another pause.
“Did you love my mother?”
I don’t know why I didn’t anticipate it. It’s such an obvious thing for her to ask. But I didn’t, and it takes me a moment to suppress my want to sugarcoat the answer.
“Your mother was lovely, but no. I didn’t love her. Not in the way you mean. Not like I love Christine and Danny. But I had, and still have, great admiration for her, and the kind of love that accompanies such an admiration. She was one of the boldest people I ever knew. And she did the bravest thing I’ve ever seen a person do in my life and will likely ever see. And for that, I will feel a kind of love for her that I can’t describe until the end of my days.”
The low-hanging sun casts a majestic orange over the bluff. I wait.