Free Falling in Love in New York by Melissa Hill Page B

father’s apparent lack of anger where Imelda’s actions were concerned.
    “How can you defend her like that after what she’s done?” he’d exclaimed, while all the time his father sat on the sofa, quietly stoic in the face of his son’s anger.
    “It’s not that simple.”
    “It seems pretty damn simple to me! I come home one day from school to find that my own mother has just upped and left me–no goodbye, no explanation, nothing.”
    “Finn that was eight years ago! Why is it such a big problem now? We’ve had a nice life up till now, haven’t we? You’ve wanted for nothing in all that time, so why get all het up about these things now?”
    “Because I want to know why she left!” Finn shot back. “I want to know why she thinks she had the right to abandon me like … like a piece of dirt. And,” he added ominously, “when I find her, I’m going to ask her exactly that.”
    “Find her?” Pat stared at him, and a shadow of anxiety quickly crossed his face–or was it fear? Fifteen-year-old Finn wasn’t at all sure, because the look was gone almost quickly as it appeared. “Well good luck to you then,” his father said finally, in a relaxed-sounding tone that unnerved Finn. Pat turned back to the newspaper he’d been reading. “Let me know how you get on.”
    Of course, back then, Finn never did try to find out where his mother was, and in truth his periodic rants about her disappearance were more bravado (coupled with a hefty dose of teenage angst) than anything else.
    But there was no denying that, despite his father’s best efforts at giving him a relatively, normal, happy upbringing, his mother’s departure, along with what could only be described as her rejection of him, had certainly left a mark.
    Now almost twenty years later, he’d mostly got over the urge to find Imelda and bring her back, or indeed find out her reasons for leaving him and Pat in the first place. His mother had disappeared from his life a very long time ago, and as far as Finn was concerned, she could stay away for good.
     

Chapter 9
     
     
    Abby arrived at Hannah O’Neill’s office in Leeson Street for her first appointment.
    It was three days since she’d been discharged from the hospital, and despite her reluctance to share her feelings about the prognosis with someone who was by all accounts a stranger, her thoughts were so all over the place that in truth she now welcomed the opportunity.
    Hopefully the neuropsychologist would be able to shed some more light on her condition and tell her more about what to expect.
    She still hadn’t noticed anything out of the ordinary and as far as she was concerned her memory was in perfect working order. Unfortunately the same thing couldn’t be said for her state of mind.
    “Hello there–good to see you again,” Hannah got up from her desk to shake Abby’s hand when she entered the office.
    “It’s nice to see you too,” she replied. Despite her reluctance, Hannah had made a good impression on her back at the hospital, simply because she was the only one there who had been willing to give her a straight answer. The nurses and Doctor Moroney tended to just hide behind platitudes and a ‘try not to worry’ approach, whereas Hannah had been direct and approachable.
    But oddly, when Abby walked in the room just now and shook Hannah’s hand, she felt a really odd sense of … almost déjà vu.
    Unwilling to give in to this feeling or admit that it might have anything to do with her injury, she quickly vanquished the thought from her mind.
    The other woman smiled. “So, I suppose we might as well get started then. Have a seat–anywhere you like,” she added, when Abby looked unsure which to choose from –the two purple velvet armchairs in the centre of the room, or the scarlet chaise longue by the wall. This place was nothing like she’d expected from a psychologist’s office and instead of being clinical and austere, the room was warm and cosy, with its