“I hate soccer.” Her face is puffy, and her eyes are great black holes of accusation. “I’m not like Cami. She likes soccer. I don’t.”
“What do you want to do instead?”
“What did you play when you were eight?”
“Tennis. You can learn if you want.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she knows it was the wrong thing to say. Bella, with her memory like an elephant, and her immediate need to distance herself from the situation will remember that?—
“You played tennis with Daddy.” Her lip juts. “I don’t want to do anything Daddy did.”
“I played netball too. That’s a fun game. Would you like to learn that? I can see if there’s a team in your age group.”
She can almost see the wheels turning in Bella’s head. She gives a quick nod. It’s acceptable.
Kim sits on the couch and pats the seat next to her. “Will you sit with me? I’ll tell you anything you want to know—if I know it, that is.”
Bella doesn’t answer, but she sidles toward the couch, and the next thing she’s burrowing into Kim’s side as if she wants toslide inside her chest. Kim’s shirt is instantly wet. She closes her eyes and presses a kiss to Bella’s damp blonde head. How can she make this right? How can she help her daughter accept this unbelievable, mind-twisting fuck up of everything they knew? She mentally curses Chris for putting them in this situation. How had he ever thought for a moment that he’d get away with it?
But he had got away with it, a tiny voice answers. For nine years. More than Bella’s lifetime. He must have truly believed no one would ever find out. Kim can’t fathom the conceit, the God complex, the arrogance Chris must have had to believe he could mess with people’s lives like this.
Was she so stupid she never questioned him?
Was Danika?
She and Danika agreed to talk once the kids have gone to bed.
Kim has no clue what to say.
Chapter Thirteen
Danika
It’s close to midnight. Danika clutches her phone. She’s tired, yet her mind whirls like a Catherine wheel, with so many sparks and random thoughts flying off in all directions.
Cami is asleep in her bedroom. She took it well, all things considered. Better than Danika did when Kim arrived on their doorstep two and a half months ago. It seems much longer.
Cami hadn’t seemed concerned about her dad’s other family. She has friends at school from blended families, children of divorce and separation. Maybe she’s processing it like that. Indeed, she’d been curious to learn she had a sister, and then so excited when she learned who it was. She’d wanted to call Bella immediately, but Danika said no.
“Kim is telling Bella, and we must allow them time for this. Remember, too, that you’ve known Dad is dead for several months. Bella is only just finding out. Let them call us.”
Time ticked on slowly; Cami’s impatience grew. She stared at Danika’s phone that didn’t ring, and her dinnertime chatter was about what she and her new sister would do together: soccer, sleepovers. Maybe they could go to the same school. Maybe they could move closer.
At ten, two hours later than normal, Danika persuaded her into bed, saying that Bella wouldn’t call this late. Reluctantly, Cami had gone.
And now, worry twines itself around Danika’s insides, knotting her guts into a hard ball. She’s nauseous, but also, she wants a large glass of wine. But she resists, because Kim will call; she promised she would, and Danika wants to remember every facet of the conversation, every nuance, and not be befuddled by wine.
She activates her phone screen once more, checks for the umpteenth time that the volume is up but not loud enough to wake Cami when Kim rings.
Because Kim will ring. She promised.
The clock ticks past midnight. Danika texted Kim six hours ago saying she’d told Cami, and it was okay to call. That Cami had taken it well and was excited to have a sister.
She gets up, goes to the kitchen for a glass of water, and it’s then that her phone buzzes. Her heart slams against her ribs as she answers the call.
“Hi, Kim.” She’s breathless, a strange thrill running through her.
“Hi Danika.” Kim’s voice is as flat as the Nullarbor Plain. There’s nothing in her tone to give Danika any clues.
A silence.
