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“It doesn’t matter.” Gayle sat up straighter, some of her usual spirit returning. “That’s all in the past. The place you describe sounds charming. And if you’re exploring its suitability for family gatherings, what better way to do it than with your family? I’m coming. No more doubt or discussion.”
For the first time in her life, Samantha wanted to kill her sister. She glanced at her and saw that Ella was crumpled by guilt.
“That’s not—I don’t think—” she gulped “—you can’t come, Mom.”
“If it’s the money that’s worrying you, I’ll pay. I’ll pay for both of you.”
“It’s not the money. It’s—”
“Hello? Can I come in?” A deep male voice interrupted them, and Samantha and Ella spun round together to see a familiar figure standing in the doorway.
Samantha managed not to groan aloud. Was it possible for today to get any worse?
Ella gave a whimper. “Michael?”
He gave a lopsided smile. “Instead of calling again, I thought I’d come in person.”
“Why?” Ella’s voice was a squeak.
“You said you missed me. I wanted to be here to support you. I’m your husband, and that’s what husbands do.”
There was a tense silence.
Michael was the only one smiling.
“Husband?” Gayle’s voice sounded thin and stretched. “You have a husband? You’re married?”
“I—yes—” Ella looked so traumatized Samantha forgot that a moment before she’d wanted to kill her and took a step forward.
“Five years is a long time, Mom. Things have happened—”
Gayle wasn’t listening. She was staring at her younger daughter with laser focus.
“Married. When? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Your mother doesn’t know?” Michael, smile gone, glanced from Gayle to Ella.
Ella looked in desperation at Samantha.
This, she thought, was why people shouldn’t keep secrets.
Before anyone could find a way to extract themselves from what was possibly the most awkward situation they’d ever encountered, a small figure pushed its way around Michael’s legs.
Holding tightly to her father’s hand, Tab surveyed the room, caught sight of her aunt and then Ella and a broad smile spread across her face.
Before Michael could stop her, she sprinted across to her mother, coat flapping, hair flying, giving Ella no choice but to swing her up in her arms.
“Hi there, bunny.” Ella buried her face in her daughter’s coat, presumably to take respite from a sea of stunned expressions.
“Ow, you’re squeezing me. We missed you! I made your friend a card!” Tab thrust a creased card at Ella, showering the hospital floor with glitter. From the safety of her mother’s embrace, she studied the woman in the bed. “I made you a card.”
“Yes.” Gayle sounded faint. “I see that.”
Tab looked concerned. “Do you hurt? People usually stay in the hospital when they hurt.”
Gayle floundered. “Yes,” she said finally. “I do hurt. A little.”
Tab turned to Ella, confident that she could fix this. “Mommy, kiss it better.”
