LISA

"That was a very nice afternoon." My father lights a cigar and adjusts his outdoor recliner, leaning back a little. "You're a much better cook than you claim, Lisa. That pot roast was delicious." He takes a drag and puffs out the smoke in circles. "Your mother was always a good cook. You've got that from her."

"I couldn't go wrong with your wonderful fresh ingredients," I say, smiling at him as I refill his whiskey glass and sit next to him with my chamomile tea. Jackie's gone home and Lily fell asleep on the couch a while ago but I'm in no rush to leave. The backyard is peaceful and quiet, the only sound coming from the few lambs still awake in the barn and the chickens that roam around freely. "Dad, can I ask you something?" I say, seizing this private moment.

"What is it, honey?"

"I was wondering about Jackie… why she's always been single. I always thought you two would make a good couple but I'm starting to realize that I might have been wrong about that." I glance at him to gauge his reaction but he's looking away and I can't see his face. "Do you remember her ever dating anyone? A man or a woman?"

My father flinches as he turns back to me. "Jackie and I have only ever been friends. Well, not always, she was…" He stops himself and takes another drag from his cigar.

"She was what, Dad?" If Jackie is gay, I have no idea why she would confide in my father instead of in me. After all, I would understand like no one else. But this isn't just about sexuality because he looks just as emotional as Jackie did when I brought up the subject.

My father's shoulders drop and he leans forward, looking down at his feet. We don't normally have deep conversations but after Friday with Jackie and his reaction today, I know they're both keeping something from me. "It's not just up to me to tell you, honey."

"Then who is it up to?" I shoot him a puzzled look. "Dad, I want to know." A long silence lingers between us, as he continues to stare at his feet.

"Your mother and I were very happy for many years," he finally says, then pauses.

"But?" I ask.

"But…" He lets out a long sigh. "She fell in love with someone else."

"What?" I need a moment as his words hit me hard. I always had this idyllic idea of their relationship; they look genuinely happy in the photo albums I've browsed through so many times. And then I feel for my father, who clearly finds it difficult talking about this. "I'm so sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to drag up painful memories." I scoot my chair closer to him and place a hand on his arm.

"It's fine, honey, it's all part of life." He shoots me a small smile. "We were good together. Very compatible, but there was always something missing. I spent a decade trying to be enough for her, even though I never could be."

"Why? Who did she fall in love with?"

He shifts his attention to his cigar now, tapping off the ash with great care so he doesn't have to look at me. "Jackie."

"Jesus, Dad." I pause as if I haven't heard him correctly. "Mom and Jackie?" It seems too outrageous to be true and I can hardly begin to grasp what he's just told me. My mother was gay? Although I wish it wasn't the case, I don't recall much about her. I remember flashes of the last summer she was with us, when we all used to go to the beach together as a family, but that's it, apart from a fragment of her cooking in the kitchen. Suddenly, it all clicks. Jackie's reaction yesterday, why she never talks about her love life… How understanding and supportive she was when I came out to her. "But I don't get it. You and Jackie are friends."

"We are now. Back then, she was your mother's friend. They talked about girlie stuff and went shopping together, at least before it turned into something more. I was never really a part of it." He clears his throat. "I promised Jackie I'd never tell you but I can't lie to you either."

"Then tell me," I say, gently squeezing his hand.

"She was very sick, your mother." Dad sighs. "Jackie was at her bedside night and day, caring for her, and I was happy for her to be there because sometimes…" He pauses. "Well, sometimes two young kids and a dying wife was too much to handle for me. She helped me a lot too, in the house and she cooked for us. I couldn't see it back then, perhaps it was just too hard to comprehend."

I nod, meeting the sadness in his expression. "How did you find out?"

"Your mother told me just before she died," he says. "She'd been in love with Jackie for two years and they'd been seeing each other intimately several times a week."

I stare at him incredulously. "I don't understand why she told you. Mom was dying and she could have taken that secret with her to the grave. Why hurt you by admitting she'd been having an affair?"

Dad sighs. "Your mother told me it was possible to love two people at the same time. She loved us both equally, just in different ways, she said. And she wanted us to be there for each other after she was gone." He reaches for his whiskey glass and twirls the golden liquid around in the tumbler. "I was hurt, of course. Angry, upset, and I felt betrayed. But she was dying." A single tear rolls down his cheek. "And I still loved her very much, so I promised her I would look after Jackie, and Jackie promised she would look after me."

"And you did…"

"Not at first. I hated Jackie after I found out. A couple of days after the funeral, I was really struggling and decided to go next door and tell her exactly what I thought of her. But when I saw her, she was so upset…" My father swallows hard. "She was just as broken as me and I just couldn't."

"So eventually you did end up finding comfort in each other."

"Yes. She was the only person I could talk to about your mother and vice versa. And we struck up a friendship that made no sense but at the same time it was so natural that we've been close ever since."

Steadying my elbows on my knees, I lean forward and stare at him, only now feeling like I'm starting to understand him a little as a person. "I had no idea."

"You were young. I'm sorry to bulldoze your idea of a perfect marriage. It was far from perfect, but I loved her very much. And so did Jackie." Dad downs his whiskey and finally looks at me. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just… Jackie and Mom…" I shake my head incredulously. "And why did Jackie never meet anyone after Mom? Are you the only person who knows she's gay?"

"As far as I'm aware. She went on dates sometimes, but she always compared other women to your mother and her few short-term relationships never worked out." My father shrugs. "I suppose I did the same."

"Mom must have been special," I say, wishing I could picture her better.

"She was." Dad groans as he gets up, shakes out his stiff legs and gives me a sad smile. "You remind us so much of her."