When I Lost You: A Gripping, Heart Breaking Novel of Lost Love. (31 page)

I pulled him close, and though it felt like my heart was breaking right there in my chest, I wrapped my arms around him and then I kissed him carefully on the cheek. ‘Stay safe, Leo,’ I whispered, and a shuddering sob finally escaped my lips. I saw Leo clench his jaw and there was a raw pain in his eyes that even the darkness could not hide. And then he walked to the stairs, and disappeared into his study.

I
moved back
into Bennelong the next day. Maybe I hadn’t meant what I said that night – maybe in that moment I didn’t
really
hate him – but I certainly did in the days afterwards. I hated the mess of our life, but I hated Leo more for giving up on it. Things were apparently over and I still wasn’t sure how I could have let the best thing that had ever happened to me go to ruin.

It was only a few days later that Leo emailed me to say that he’d seen a solicitor and to suggest that I see one too. I got the email when I was sitting at my desk with Leo’s own father due for a meeting with me any minute. When Andrew came into the office, I could tell that Leo had not told his family what was going on between us, and I was so livid that I feigned illness and took myself home.

How could Leo be so unaffected by what was happening between us that he had calmly seen a solicitor before he had even told his parents? It was so typical of him to leave such a thing to me, but this time I was having none of it. I’d decided that under no circumstances would I be the one to break the news to his family. They were Leo’s problem to solve – I had enough of my own.

So I ignored his email and I ignored his advice. I promised myself that I’d take as much time to grieve as I needed: I would start the steps to dissolve our marriage only when I felt ready to do so.

The next day I had my first obstetric appointment. I texted Leo to invite him and I was quite confident that he would come – after all, he had said he wanted to rebuild a friendship, and he’d said that he wanted to parent our baby together. When the receptionist tried to send me in and Leo was still not there, I asked her if one of the other waiting patients could go before me.

‘My husband is coming,’ I said. ‘I’m sure of it.’ It was a lie – I wasn’t sure at all by then, but I felt I could see judgement in the eyes of the receptionist. Even when I did go into the doctor’s room, I kept my eyes on the door. Leo did not come. I drafted several texts to him – but they were mean, because I was so disappointed that he did not show up. Eventually I deleted them. I knew that I couldn’t afford to inject more tension into our relationship – we needed to find a new kind of peace before the baby came.

Before he flew out to Syria, Leo texted me from the airport.
I’m flying out. If there’s anything else you need from the terrace, please help yourself before I get back. I’ve organised a walker for Lucien so you won’t need to go to my house otherwise.

A
week
later my phone rang in the middle of the night. I heard sobbing as soon as I answered it. I did not know who the caller was, but I knew immediately that something had happened to Leo.

‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ I said. I was calm. Pain and an endless grief would crash over me but the inevitability of the moment could not be escaped. I had
known
this was coming – I was prepared – I’d actually tried to imagine that moment already over the years. I had known that there would be a call or a knock at the door one day and he would be gone. Leo had seemed determined to martyr himself for his work.

‘No,’ the caller sobbed, and I realised it was Kisani. ‘But he’s injured.’

‘Injured?’ I repeated, and I sighed, imagining another bullet in his shoulder. ‘What’s happened, Kisani?’

‘It was a car accident – Brad was sketchy on the details but it’s bad…’

I heard the dread in her voice. This wasn’t one of Leo’s semi-regular ‘flesh wounds’.

‘How bad?’ I whispered.

‘I’m so sorry, Molly. They don’t think he’s going to make it. How quickly can you get to Rome?’

I was on Dad’s jet by the time the sun rose and I didn’t even think twice about whether I should go.

That’s the thing about love. You can abuse it, you can dampen it, you can wrap it up in hate, or try with all your might to destroy it – but once it’s been lit, an ember always remains.

I
t’s late
by the time I arrive back at Bennelong. The sun is setting over the city, and the living area is bathed in a warm orange light. The terrace has no western aspect and it’s overshadowed on all sides, so it’s much darker at any hour of the day. That warm light is the one thing I love about Molly’s apartment – other than the fact that it’s also
our
apartment, if she’ll have me back.

The apartment is still and quiet, but I know she is home – the concierge told me as I came through the lobby. I wonder if she has cried since I left; I wonder if she will be able to see that
I
have. ‘Molly!’ I call, and I push myself towards our bedroom. I find her lying on the bed, staring away from me towards the window. She doesn’t move when I enter the room, but I see the way that her hands are wrapped around her belly. I move towards the bed, and then I lift myself onto it and sit up beside her.

Molly moves slowly, reluctantly, until she’s sitting up too. She flicks me only a glance before she looks away again.

‘I wasn’t having an affair, you know.’

‘That’s something, I suppose,’ she whispers.

‘The lawyer’s office was next door to that bar. I had to go in for a stiff drink before I could bring myself to go see him. I
knew
I was making a mistake.’

‘Was it a mistake, Leo? We’re right back there again now. We’ve got exactly the same problem, only it’s even worse now because we realise that we
love
each other again.’

‘We don’t have the exact same problem, Molly,’ I say softly, and she looks at me properly now, but her gaze is openly sceptical. I reach into my pocket to withdraw a single page. I pass it to her and watch her face as she reads it. She gasps, and then looks back to me.

‘Is this for real?’ she whispers.

‘It is.’

‘You would do this for me?’

‘No,’ I say, and I shake my head firmly. ‘I wouldn’t do this
just
for you. I won’t be any kind of husband if I’m miserable. I am doing this for our family – for you, for me, and for Henry-slash-Juliette.’

Molly passes the letter back to me and I skim it again myself. I remember now a time not so long ago when Brad accused me of having a magical ability to convince Kisani to approve any request I made at
News Monthly
, no matter how outlandish, but getting this one signed off in a single afternoon was a stretch even for me.

‘But I do want you to be happy,’ Molly frowns. She looks at me. ‘I want you to be happy more than I want you to be with me, Leo – even if it means you’re constantly in danger. That’s partly why I agreed to the separation the first time around – you’d made it so clear that you couldn’t leave your job.’

‘I know, love,’ I say gently, and I rest my hand on her thigh because I just need to touch her again. ‘But it’s pretty bloody obvious that I can’t work the way I have been
and
have you and the baby in my life.’

‘Do you think you can be happy here with us?’ she asks hesitantly.

‘I know I can – I have been, haven’t I? These last few months – even with all of the stress of the injury and my damned legs not working – I’ve been happy here with you. I love you more than anything, even my career. I feel like an idiot that it took me this long to figure out that just as I didn’t marry you for your annoying wealth…’ She rolls her eyes at my joke, but I press on, ‘
you
didn’t marry me for my job.’

‘God, Leo!
No one
would marry you for your job.’

‘I think it just seemed too good to be true, you know? That someone like
you
would marry someone like
me.
And I wanted to – no, I
needed
to be someone for you.’

‘You
are
someone, Leo,’ she says, as she gazes at me.

I see both the pain in her eyes at the things I have just told her, and the sheer adoration that has always been there and that has always terrified me. Countless times I’ve accused Molly of failing to support me – but I realise now. She couldn’t support my career, because it was killing me – but she always supported
me
. I am scared of this change that I need to make now; as scared as I ever was on the battlefield – but that isn’t going to stop me this time. There is too much at stake, and I won’t be adjusting to my new life alone.

‘I loved that job, Molly. And I was damned good at it.’

‘I know,’ she whispers.

‘But it’s time for me to put
all
my energy into a new role, and I’m going to love this one even more.’

She glances at the page in my hand. ‘Part-time domestic journalist and Middle Eastern correspondent?’ she reads.

I shake my head. ‘Husband and father,’ I promise her. She breathes in slowly, and then the smile returns – the one that I have always felt could light up the whole world. ‘We’ve never really had a life together, have we? But I want to grow old with you, Molly, until we have the same wrinkles and the same worn expression on our faces and people think we’re siblings.’

‘I don’t think that’s going to happen in our case, Leo!’ She laughs at my stupid joke, and the freedom and joy she releases with that sound is the confirmation I’ve been looking for – it’s not too late for us. I grin at her, and then finally take her in my arms.

‘I want us to have one life, not two that meet up every now and again. And we could try this now and put every single thing we have within ourselves into it and we could still fail. But I promise you that this time around, I’m not going to give up on us unless we’ve given it everything we’ve got and there’s nothing left to try. Will you promise me that too?’

‘You know I will.’

We stare at each other. I watch a broad, teary smile transform her face and she is so beautiful in that moment that she steals my breath.

‘So we’re doing this?’ I whisper.

‘You bet your bloody life we are!’

‘
S
ay bye to Mummy
, Henry.’

I am standing at the door, staring at Leo and our son. Henry is four months old and he’s still the most adorable child I’ve ever seen. He has Leo’s dark curls and brown eyes, and the months since his birth have been the best of my life. I love every delicious moment with him – sometimes, even when I am sat up feeding him in the small hours, I’m shocked by a fresh realisation that there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be and nothing I would rather be doing. Henry has given my life meaning in a way that I’d never imagined.

He is sitting on his father’s lap now, waving with Leo’s assistance, completely oblivious to the momentous first that we are experiencing. I have not spent more than an hour away from him in his entire life. Until today.

I am so close to tears. I knew this would be hard – but it is so much harder than I imagined. I shift my handbag on my shoulder and realise again that it’s not the nappy bag I’m in the habit of carrying and I start to feel nauseous. It doesn’t feel right – I’m never going to get used to this.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be okay with him?’ I ask Leo, and he raises an eyebrow at me.

‘You
know
I’m going to be fine,’ he says. He is right, but still, I start to shake and I want to snatch the baby back up out of his arms and cancel the whole arrangement.

‘I don’t think I can do this,’ I whisper thickly, and Leo shifts his wheelchair forward towards me. He can
walk short distances now – usually with crutches or a frame – but it’s still a slow and exhausting process for him even a full year after the accident. His one concession to his disability has been to accept a motorised wheelchair, but only since Henry was born, and only since he realised he would need one to get around while carrying his son.

There’s still hope. His doctors say that it is still possible he will regain his mobility, but given how slow his progress has been, it may be years before his brain can rewire itself. Leo will never stop trying. He is undeterred by the thought of years of hard work to achieve a goal.

‘It’s completely up to you, Molly. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready. We can try again in another week, or another two – or however long it takes. I won’t be upset, and I won’t be offended.’

Leo cups Henry around his chubby belly with one arm, but takes my hand with his other. He squeezes firmly as the tears roll over onto my cheeks and down my chin. I have been staring at the baby, but now I glance at Leo and he offers me a gentle, reassuring smile.

‘It’s only half a day, love,’ he whispers. I nod and go to turn away, but at the last second I lose my nerve again and I drop to my knees to bury my face in the baby’s neck. Henry immediately turns his head to gum his wet mouth at my hair as if he might find milk there. After a minute or two, I rock back on my haunches and I look from my son to my husband.

‘Maybe it’s too soon for me to go back to work,’ I say to Leo.

‘That’s fine if it is.’

‘But we’ve arranged everything…’

‘I don’t care.’

‘I’m being an idiot.’

‘Not at all.’

Life is different now. We laugh at the same time and we cry at the same time. We stare down at our son in wonder together most nights. We live gently together – two lives entwined at last.

He is an amazing father, as I knew he would be – but more than that, these days Leo is the husband I knew he could be too. Somehow, after everything we’ve been through, we have finally settled into a life that suits us both.

Leo and Brad have been doing some incredible work highlighting Aboriginal people from around the country. They’ve been to remote communities and sat around campfires with elders who still live a traditional lifestyle. They’ve eaten burgers with kids on the streets of Redfern and they’ve interviewed executives at banks, and profiled brilliant indigenous artists and sportspeople. They’ve met families who are struggling but who have the courage to persist and hope for a better future. They have drawn public attention to so many strengths and challenges faced by the Aboriginal community, and this work is
good
for Leo. He approaches it with a kind of wondrous passion instead of the manic energy that drove his work overseas.

He has been working with his own community –
but in doing so, he’s been putting the pieces of himself back together too. Leo is starting to understand his own history in a way that I know he has always missed. And he will get back to that work again, some day, but
today
is supposed to mark a changing of the guard in our family.

I am returning to work part-time at the Foundation, and for the next twelve months at least, Leo will be focusing his energy on raising our son. So I
need
to leave them behind today – because the Foundation needs me, but also because it is Leo’s turn to be the heart of our home.

I rise, brushing a kiss against Leo’s cheek as I do. ‘Actually, I need to do this. You two will be fine,’ I say.

‘We sure will. Won’t we, buddy?’

‘I love you, Leo.’

He takes his eyes from Henry and looks at me, and I see the softness there – the pride and respect and warmth and the openness that I was once sure I’d lost forever. These are rough and ragged parts of our history now. We are matured by them, and we are changed by them – but we have survived them. Just as Leo is ever so slowly trying to relearn how to walk,
we
are learning how to walk together too, and as a family unit now. We are better for having come through the tough times, as I am starting to suspect people usually are.

‘I’m so proud of you, Molly,’ Leo says, and I flash him a wobbly smile and finally call for the elevator.

‘I’ll see you at lunchtime?’

‘We’ll be waiting right here where you left us.’

I cry as the elevator doors close behind me, and then I cry all the way to the office and I’m still crying when I walk through the doors and Tobias is waiting in the lobby. He presses a coffee into my hands. ‘Good to have you back, Molly,’ he says, and I smile at him. I’m still crying, and he doesn’t seem at all convinced as I say, ‘It’s good to
be
back.’

As I sit at my desk, I withdraw a photo frame from my handbag and I stand it near my monitor. It’s a photo of my future and my hope – my beautiful son – and my hero, my wonderful, brave and complex husband. And with my boys watching over me, I reach for my keyboard and I get back to work.