Adaption

Puzzle Piece

The two girls stayed with Maggie for a few days and she did her best to be honest with them. In the end however, there was so much that she could not tell them. There was so much she did not know. She knew herself better than anyone else after so many years of living alone. However, she did not know her girls, or it seemed, the man who fathered them.

She had given Clare up for adoption and given him Kerry. He had promised to take care of her, but he had broken that promise a few months later.

It was in the wake of these broken promises that the girls eventually left Co. Clare to go in search of the man who had a lot of explaining to do. Margaret gave them his last known address. It was there that they found him in a stunning seaside home in Co. Kerry. Right where he had been left behind years before. To an untrained eye, nothing had changed but the girls knew differently.

He knew who they were the moment he answered the door. The eco-friendly home was structurally solid but the past always had a way of creeping into the present no matter what.

His name was Peter Joyce. He was an architect.

"This is the house that love built," he told the girls as he led them through to the open-plan kitchen with it's marble worktops.

He had met her in Italy; a backpacker with an interest in the Renaissance period. He thought she looked like something Michelangelo would have sculpted. It had simply started out as a holiday romance but as the weeks went by it grew to more.

He loved her. He wanted to be with her. He wanted to marry her. However, back in Ireland life was not so simple. Rome was a place where everything was easier. You could dance closer to the edge of the cliff, while still avoiding the danger. You could be a lover. You could be a tourist. You could walk into a Catholic church to look at the artwork alone. Back home, he was an Anglican architect and he was a Joyce before he was Peter.

He told his parents that he was working on a project. He built this house and when the last brick was set in stone and the last carpet stuck down he decided to make things official. It would be a quiet ceremony in a registry office, because they still had so much to do. They had nurseries to paint and booties to knit. Yet, it had to be done- bad timing aside. On the night before the wedding all went to hell.

It had to be done.

First Maggie broke his heart. Then she broke her own.

"I can't do this." At the time he dismissed it. The labour pains were making her crazy. Yet, they were doing the opposite. They were making her see things more clearly than she ever had before. Keeping the babies would only cause her more pain. Her heart ached already because deep inside she knew that she could not love her like she needed to be loved.

She could barely love Peter, let alone two little beings. She hated herself for it but she knew it was the right thing. She waited until her daughter had no physical reason for needing her birth mother and then she walked away.

It had been an agonising choice; but she chosen Clare to be given up. She decided that she was to be given a chance to start over; much like her mother. At that time, she still had hope for Kerry, her other daughter. She knew that she could not come out of this relationship in one piece; but if she had to be split in half so be it. The two of them had bonded and she knew he would do what was best for her. He would love Kerry like he had never truly been allowed to love her mother; wholly and completely- then and always.

That was what she told herself.

But Peter knew better. He had loved Maggie wholly and completely; then and always. He wanted her to be his family. He wanted them all to be part of his family. Yet, it seemed his family tree was exposed in a lightning storm struggling for survival under harsh conditions.

At the age of six months old Abigail took up residence in the care of the State. They waited for the papers to come through. They found her the perfect family in the form of Rodger & Heather Wilson who already had one young son. Where Peter's family had been struck by lightning, they had struck gold.

Once Abigail and Margaret left never to return it became harder to function. He gave his daughter his undivided attention but it was never enough. He was barely a father. He couldn't double as mother too. He soldiered on for Anna's sake, remembering his promise to the girl he still loved. But eight weeks later he called a halt to the charade. He supposed, in hindsight they should have done the same with the pregnancy too.

He had loved Margaret O'Sullivan wholly and completely; then and always. That's why he let her go. He loved them both and he let them go.

By the time the girls had finished listening to his story it was far too late to leave and far too late to fix the damage that had been inflicted years ago. Kerry and Clare lay curled in a double bed in one of the spare rooms. They heard the wind howl.

Eventually, it all became too much. As dark fell over the hushed house, Kerry got up and opened the door to explore. She found herself drawn down the corridor and like magic Clare followed her without reproach. She began to search through each room methodically. When she came to the final door, it swung open at the slightest touch. Someone had been in here not so long ago.

Seventeen years ago. She realised as she stepped further inside and found herself confronted with cots, a changing table and shelf full of nursery rhymes which had never been opened. The walls were cream and painted upon them were woodland creatures. Their soulless eyes stared accusingly at her. She gazed right back.

Her father's words came back to her. "This is the house that love built." Those words were nonsense. Guilt had built it. Lust had laid the foundations and obligation had laid the blocks. Longing had painted the walls. Loneliness had chosen the dark curtains to block out the world.

She knew now why he had kept everything. She knew his reasoning. He wanted a family; two infant girls and a wife. They were not enough for him. Yet, they were enough for each other. They were two puzzle pieces that clicked together and come hell or high water they were going to stick together. But their puzzle was still incomplete; they had dislodged a few pieces from the image as they moved outside the box to see the bigger picture.

They could see it now. Love did not come in vials of blood and paternity test kits. Love did not buy big flashy cars or fancy clothes. Love built relationships. And if it did that could it not salvage them too?

There was only one way to find this out.

There were only two things they knew for certain in that moment but they were enough.

Home was not a house. Home was a person who would always be there no matter what.

They were going home.