Helen abruptly focused back on the discussion. "Ailsa, your father and I separated long ago. I wasn't enough for him then, so I can't fathom why I would be now. Honestly, I doubt he wants me back in his life either."

"Oh, come on!" Ailsa exclaimed, her frustration palpable as she struggled to balance her phone against her shoulder while trying to tie her shoelaces. "Mum, I could have scripted this conversation myself!"

"I don’t need reminders about Dad and his so-called 'philandering.' You've brought it up before. Yes, he wronged you, and I understand why you found it unacceptable back then. But it's time for a reality check."

Helen felt a wave of anxiety. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm trying to look at this from a grown-up perspective, so forgive me if I’m blunt. Life throws curveballs, and every marriage has its ups and downs. They can unravel for countless reasons. Even when things seem perfect, temptation can knock at the door, and some find it hard to resist."

There was silence—one of Helen's most effective responses, forcing Ailsa to fill the void. She imagined her mother on the other end, poised for a comeback, and impulsively interjected, "By the way, do you know what Oscar Wilde said about temptation?"

"I don’t, but I'm sure you’re about to enlighten me."

"He said the only way to rid oneself of temptation is to yield to it."

Ailsa reveled in the drama, her voice rising theatrically. "Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for what it has forbidden itself."

If the timing had been right, she felt she could have won an Oscar for that performance.

"Don't you see? We're all human, Mum—every single one of us, not just Dad! Oscar Wilde recognized this long ago; why can't you?"

"I’m sure you’re about to school me, but tell me this: Did you realize that giving in to temptation became a trend with Adam and Eve? And while it was just an apple, it symbolizes so much more. You get that, right?"

More silence.

Ailsa gulped, realizing her mother may have never considered such a notion.

As her heart raced, she sensed the long pauses that often punctuated their conversations were what she appreciated most about her mother. How could she still be so rigid, unable to find humor or healing? Why couldn’t she just pretend, at least, instead of living life so tightly wound, like a constrictive garment on the wrong body?

Someone had neglected to tell her that life isn't a rehearsal; growth comes from accepting both the good and the bad, moving forward with wisdom gained from experiences.

Was her mother still envious, clinging to her father's perceived successes while ignoring her own, even after all these years?

Perhaps it wasn’t merely sanctimoniousness but rather a collection of missed opportunities—chances she failed to take that could have transformed her life. Fear often stands in the way of seizing opportunities: "What if I fail?" and "What if...?"

But what if she had realized, too late, that she could have soared? What impact might that have had on her? Suddenly, Ailsa found herself saying, "Besides, it could just as easily have been you."

The air thickened with tension; Ailsa wondered if she had crossed a line. Helen, on the other hand, grappled with the implication embedded in her daughter's words.

"I beg your pardon, Ailsa," Helen finally replied, her voice quiet and sorrowful, as if the idea of straying from her commitment was utterly foreign. "I don't need to listen to this. I would never have strayed. I committed to your father at twenty-one, married in church, and I still hold that sacred. So, please, don't include me in your hypothetical scenarios. Either you are in a marriage, or you are not. Your father chose otherwise."

"That’s fine, but maybe you just weren’t tempted—or worse, you were, but didn’t seize the opportunity! If it had presented itself, you might have been."

"Been what?"

"Tempted!" she snapped, sharper than intended. "Did you even hear me?" Without waiting for a response, she continued, "The issue with temptation, especially when resisted, is that it may never come your way again. Just think about that. When you realize the opportunity you passed up, it can lead to regret for what could have been."

"This is about being human, Mum," she said softly. "It's normal to feel tempted, and it's also normal to give in."

Ailsa's heart raced. Had she gone too far? Would her mother hang up on her?

But Helen remained on the line, surprising Ailsa with her response. "Everyone feels temptation from time to time. As you say, we are all human, and that includes weaknesses. What matters is how we handle those weaknesses. Too many excuses exist these days—temporary happiness for fleeting gains. The only way to succumb to temptation is to invite it in. It's that simple!"

Was this a subtle hint? Ailsa pondered.

She envisioned her mother's face, unable to imagine her ever yielding to desire. The thought was too frightening, well beyond what even the most imaginative playwright could conjure.

At this point, Ailsa would have preferred to end the conversation, but she felt this was an opportunity worth pursuing—a chance for a significant discussion she wasn't ready to back down from. Opportunity knocks rarely, and she was determined to keep going.

"That's quite virtuous for words, Mum!" she sighed, barely pausing for breath. "But tell me the truth—why are you still so angry with Dad? Why can't you step forward and forgive him, even after all these years?"

"Who said I was angry?"

"I did! It certainly comes across that way. You can't even look back and revise the narrative of what could have been. You know why?"

"I don’t! Enlighten me."

"Because you refuse to go there, and it’s easier to stick with a storyline that fuels your misery. At twenty-one, nothing is permanent. People are still discovering themselves, seeking out the 'greener grass,' and exploring possibilities."

"There are many horizons, you know!"

"Think about it. At that age, people search for meaning and inspiration, often reevaluating what truly matters to them. Consequently, life happens."

Helen ignored the vulgarity, her shoulders slumping in defeat as she replied, "Not when you’ve made vows in church. That’s when you commit to God, to resist temptation, and I stayed true to that."

"That's a load of rubbish, however you look at it—absolute nonsense!"

Helen winced, astonished by her daughter's newfound mastery of foul language, but she pressed on.

"You see, I don’t believe you. It’s just a hunch, but I think there’s more to this. If I were to dig deeper, would I discover that you felt just a little angry with Dad for leaving you in Australia with two children while he enjoyed himself overseas? Am I close?"

As expected, silence reigned. Her mother's quietness was a well-honed skill, but Ailsa felt an urge to continue. Something felt off—there was more to uncover.

The stillness on the other end was thick with unspoken possibilities, answers begging to be revealed, and Ailsa pressed on, "I understand. Even if I hadn’t given in to temptation, I would have envied the carefree life Dad led—dining in fine restaurants, mingling with interesting people, while you were home caring for demanding children, sleepless nights, and preparing meals that we might eat, leaving no time for yourself. It wasn't a fair deal, was it?"

The silence persisted, and Ailsa sensed she needed to keep going. She cautiously asked, "Have I cracked the code?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about!" her mother replied, her voice tight.

"Oh, come on! Could it be that you resented being trapped in your marriage, feeling compelled to act a certain way while crying out for a moment of peace? And then finding out that Dad had freed himself, not just socially but in betrayal?"

"Tell me, Mum. Am I close?"

No reply. In the silence, Ailsa felt a strong urge to delve deeper. She had to confront the truth and perhaps unearth some long-buried secrets.

"Why stay, Mum? You could have let him go, left him to enjoy his 'fun,' or however you want to put it," she pressed, but Helen interrupted, "I was married! I had two children. You can’t just walk away from responsibilities."

Ailsa sensed a shift in her mother’s tone, an uncharacteristic quietness. Now fully frustrated, she felt compelled to seek the truth, hoping to unearth something profound.

"Come on, Mum, this is the 21st century. Even if it weren’t, affairs happened even in Victorian times. Throughout history, people have strayed because of their humanity—not because they were immoral or loose. They were just people."

"Believe it or not, this isn’t a groundbreaking revelation, but life is serendipitous, whether we like it or not. Plans can go awry, and it doesn’t mark the end of the road. Despite your hurt, you could have picked yourself back up, talked things over with Dad, and found a way to move forward."

"But you didn’t. You inflated the situation, filled in the gaps to suit your anger, and refused to forgive. Honestly, that’s hard to grasp."

"If you truly wanted to save your marriage, you could have taken control—if you wanted to! You could have made an effort to rekindle the spark when he returned, creating an unforgettable experience."

"You could have, but you didn’t, and instead, you’ve lived like a bitter, cloistered nun, too sad for words!"

Ailsa leaned back, her phone angled to her ear, hoping for a response. The conversation had turned into a one-sided battle, and though she was concerned about its direction, she pressed on. What did she have to lose?

"You know what Buddha said?" she asked.

"No, I don’t! Surprise me!"

"He said that holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. Does that resonate with you? The anger you cling to is like poison; it doesn’t kill you, but it stops you from moving on with your life."

More silence, heavy with potential. Ailsa believed she was inching closer to a truth she might not be ready for.

"Hello... earth to Mum!"

"Really, Ailsa, I worry about your soul. Where do you learn this talk?"

"Clearly not from you, Mother. It’s a shame, but you haven’t recognized that I’m a grown adult with choices about my thoughts and actions."

"Okay, I might try to shock you a little, but you ask for it. You’re shrouded in this sanctimonious cloud; it frightens me. Dad rarely discusses your past, but at least he isn’t bitter. He’s moved on."

"The truth is, I’m trying to understand you both. It’s no wonder Craig and I have trouble settling down. On one hand, there’s you, holy and virtuous, and on the other, Dad, who pretends he’s had more flings than hearty meals. I doubt that’s true, but as long as you remain prim and proper and refuse to forgive him, he plays the role of a charming womanizer."

"This is MY DAD we’re talking about!"

Helen flinched at the words, realizing the impact they had on her life, but she struggled to find a response. Tears welled in her eyes as she felt emotionally exposed for the first time in ages.

So close to revealing her hidden truths, she was startled back to the moment by Ailsa’s voice.

"But regardless of whether he had affairs, did you ever search your own soul? The plain truth, no fabrications! Was your side of the fence so pristine? Is there anything in your past that could justify Dad’s 'sins'?"

"Oh my God," Helen whispered to herself, wondering how to counter the onslaught. But to Ailsa, she replied tightly, "I don’t understand what you mean."

But the truth was otherwise. She was guilty of her well-honed art of deception, yet another untruth when she could have been honest about how things truly were. It wasn’t as if Ailsa was naive enough to be shocked. She was strong and able to handle adversity. So when would Helen find the strength to reveal her truths and face the consequences?

When?

Tension mounted within her as the past surged forth, bringing a flood of regret that threatened to overwhelm her. Fearful memories, long-buried secrets, flashed before her, leaving her shivering as Ailsa continued her passionate plea.

"Did you ever consider that the reverse could have occurred? This conversation is a bit one-sided, by the way!" she added lightly, though she felt far from flippant.

"If we’re discussing affairs, no, I did not. You should know me better than that."

Yet another lie slipped from her lips effortlessly. In that moment, Helen realized she might never have the courage to confront her past. Acknowledging that realization meant she would likely spend the rest of her life evading the truth.

What a bleak future she had laid out for herself!

At that moment, she recognized Ailsa was right. She had stopped living long ago, and since then, her life had merely limped along, always on guard for a moment when the truth might come tumbling out.

Still, Ailsa continued. She was a determined woman, and Helen felt cornered, unable to retreat.

"Oh come on, Mum. There must have been others you found attractive. There are no angels in this world. As I said, our humanity allows us to give in to desire occasionally and live in the moment… and enjoy it! This is the gospel according to Ailsa, by the way. You won’t hear this in church!"

"So, should I ask the question again?"

"What question?"

"Oh for goodness' sake, Mum, were you even listening? Look at yourself! You’re a lovely woman, even if you refuse to accept it! Photos show you were stunning in your youth, so surely, in the right circumstances, you could have been tempted to step outside your strict boundaries and have a little fun."

"Just tell me the truth… PLEASE… just this once!" Ailsa hoped it wouldn’t come back to haunt her.

Another lengthy pause followed—one of those silent yet powerful moments that left Ailsa struggling to maintain momentum. But she’d come this far, and was determined to continue, feeling it was time for excavation, to dig up the past.

"Or were you so strong, so perfect, that you could resist temptation? If so, you must be more blessed than the Blessed Virgin, standing apart from humanity. Imagine that!"

"Ailsa, please! Must you? I’ve had enough for today."

"No, listen to me. I get that being home with children wasn’t the right atmosphere for Mr. Better-Than-The-One-Who-Cheated-On-Me to come and sweep you off your feet. But had you taken charge, you could have outsmarted Dad at his own game. If you had dressed up a bit, had a few drinks with friends, who knows what could have happened? The outcome might have been extraordinary! How different your life and attitude could be! In hindsight, you must see that the path you chose was a waste!"

Ailsa lowered her voice dramatically, sensing the need for shock tactics.

"You know, some of my best dates have come from chance encounters over a drink or two. One of my best finds was a guy I met in a coffee shop. He was charming, with the most mesmerizing eyes and a body just begging to be explored. It could have been love at first sight—probably was—but he had other 'responsibilities.'"

Instantly, Helen’s mind whirled, her heart raced, and any attempt to speak felt like a struggle to breathe. A guy in a coffee shop, with captivating eyes and a body waiting to be... the ghost of Christmas past! "Please, don’t continue," she murmured to herself.

But she composed herself, grateful that Ailsa wasn’t there to witness her pale complexion or her escalating distress.

"My religion doesn’t permit 'others,'" she managed to say. "You should know that."

"Oh, come on, Mum, that’s just an excuse. Religion has nothing to do with it. If the right person had come along and flattered you, or whatever, maybe even over a drink, I think you would have felt compelled to have some fun. It's about feeling valued, you know."

"You clearly don’t know me," she replied, her tone clipped.

"Oh, I think I do, Mum. I know you better than you imagine. It saddens me to see that your attitude has caused you to miss out on happiness and living life fully."

"I know this may contradict your beliefs, but life is about seizing moments, letting go, and finding joy in shared experiences."

"It’s not about painting yourself into a corner, doing good deeds, and seeking respect for your virtue. That’s a long, miserable road to nowhere, and if you choose it, you might as well be dead."

Ailsa waited, unsure of how her words would impact her mother. She didn’t regret saying them, but she did worry about their effect. So, she softened her tone slightly.

"Honestly, Mum, I don’t know where you got this righteousness from. It exemplifies the epitome of 'sexually correct' behavior. But let me tell you this: it has cost you dearly and strangled your heart."

Despite the oppressive silence, Ailsa sensed her mother was still listening. She hoped that whatever else she had said would eventually be forgiven, if and when Helen was ready to face the truth. Forgiveness could free her from her self-imposed prison and allow her to begin reclaiming her life.

"The way I see it, forgive my bluntness, but your body, meant for pure pleasure, has been dormant, an unused treasure, because you’ve been a slave to your religion. You couldn't forgive and move on. It’s the 21st century, and you forgot to join in."

"Must you? I really don’t need this, Ailsa."

"Well, whether you think you need it or not, I believe you do. Look at you—you’re sad and lonely, and too emotionally rigid. Why is that? You have friends, but they’re all so uptight. You won’t find a fun date among them. You need someone adventurous, someone who challenges you, someone who will help you spread your wings."

"Someone like me, actually, when I think about it… a male version, I mean. I could probably set you up with one… if you’re game?"

Ailsa couldn’t fathom her mother ever being game, but she pushed on.

"You’ve missed out on so much living. I’m convinced the reason you’ve never been tempted to enter new relationships is that you’ve avoided all potential 'sinful' situations."

"What also troubles me is that, in the eyes of established religion, we are all sinners. We are all 'sinners,' for lack of a better term, because we’re alive, on a journey, and mistakes happen."

"You lose things, forget things, and encounter new people, forming relationships along the way. Some will work out, and some won’t."

"And if they don’t, it doesn’t mean we’ve taken a wrong turn and should return to a life of purity. If that were the case, we’d all be trying to get back to forgiveness base."

"A mistake is not a sin!"

"Sin is a construct, a term created by religious groups to describe the guilt you feel when you do something deemed wrong. Sinning can be sweet and even comforting, but it’s the fear of punishment that we struggle with."

"The idea of sin is just someone else’s perspective—your Church’s perspective—on how people behave. I don't understand that, and I never plan to."

"I'm not sure you’ll agree, but there are worse things in life than finding comfort in love, which the church views as a major sin, right? I’m not saying we should all go out and have flings. I have standards, but who are you hurting if you give in to healthy desire every once in a while—with someone you genuinely like?"

"Look at the birds, the bees, and all of God’s creatures. They mate without a marriage certificate or a church decree saying it’s acceptable. They just do it because it feels right, often resulting in little babies. And I bet they’re not consumed with guilt afterward."

"And we’re God’s creatures too! Why the double standard?"

"Ailsa, I..."

But she didn’t have a chance. Her daughter continued.

"You see, we choose partners during times of naivety, unaware of the countless potential partners out there. Then we settle on 'the one,' the one who comes with a contract and a ring, believing they’ll fulfill us and keep us from straying."

"How limiting is that? It’s hard to fathom why the church has stood the test of time."

"I was twenty-one!"

"Exactly! You were barely out of school, living in a different time. I’m almost nine years older now and I’m still not ready to commit to someone for life. I doubt I ever will."

"I can’t see why anyone would commit unless they want to relinquish control of their life to someone else."

"You know what? I think it’s more normal to find a suitable life partner after experiencing a multitude of amazing adventures."

"Oh Ailsa!"

"Okay, forgive the profanity, but I’m sure God has bigger concerns than my swearing."

"I wouldn’t be so sure."

"Okay, I’m doomed. No hope for a foul-mouthed creature like me. My tally sheet will be more dangerous than the Titanic!"

"You could easily find other ways to express yourself."

"I could, but they wouldn’t carry the same weight or convey the message effectively. Can I keep going, or is my conversation too tainted? But let me assure you, YOU are safe, Mum. YOUR principles won’t be affected by what I say. Trust me. God won’t blame you, and my choices are my own. So can I continue?"

"What?"

Ailsa decided to ignore the question.

"Okay, here’s my take. Marrying young, as you did, is one reason we have so much sadness in our world. I truly believe that."

"It's also why divorce lawyers thrive—greedy chameleons with oversized ledgers better suited for exercise. They welcome another client willing to part with money they can’t afford, driven by revenge."

"Thankfully you and Dad didn’t take that route, so you must have some respect for each other... or perhaps for your money! You could have easily taken Dad to the cleaners, but to hell with that. I’ve said too much already. Just promise me you’ll talk when you’re ready. We owe it to each other. Are we still friends?"

"You’re still my daughter," Helen replied quietly.

"Then I’ll take that as a yes. Now, back to asking for your help with Dad’s place. I understand you’re hesitant, and that’s your choice, but if your Christian values are to withstand scrutiny, a little forgiveness would go a long way."

"At this stage in Dad’s life, when he truly needs us, if you were willing to help, I believe you’d find absolution for any past grievances you may have had—before or after Dad's long-ago mistakes. I sense something magical could happen for you. Forgiveness allows all of us to move on. It doesn’t change the past, but it certainly can brighten your future."

Helen stiffened, her mind drifting back to when her children were young, with John overseas while she managed everything alone. Those sleepless nights, the endless whines, and the questions about her sanity were challenging, but nothing compared to the confrontations she faced now.

For some reason, she didn’t feel angry. Instead, fear and uncertainty surged within her as she pondered how her daughter had evolved into such a confident, assertive woman with skills she had never recognized.

In that moment, she realized two things: she had indeed been a victim of her self-imposed punishment, and now, she was no match for her daughter’s determination.

She needed time to think... some space... maybe even a glass of wine—her children referred to it as liquid serenity. Any excuse would do—just time to breathe, think, and sit alone, without Ailsa’s pressure.

Gathering her strength, she murmured, "Sorry, dear. I just remembered I must be at the charity bookshop in fifteen minutes. There’s a lot to sort through, and I promised to help. Let me call you back in a couple of hours. I will think about everything you said... I truly will... so sorry... bye." Before Ailsa could respond, Helen slid down the wall, feeling a torrent of conflicting emotions surge within her, her breathing shallow and labored, unable to extract a single coherent thought.

And she wept.

An ocean of tears flowed for all she had lost, for the lies she had told to mask her shame, and for the years she could have spent enjoying her children and being a loving mother—years she could have lived without concern for judgment. She could have stood proud as the person she once was.

How liberating it would have been to shake off the burdens of the past and embrace a new, brighter future!

For a long time, lost in her emotional whirlwind and drained of energy, she sat there, immobile, entangled in accusations, truths, fabrications, and speculations that she barely had the strength to face.

In some ways, it was a relief that the pressure had built to this point, but once again, she resisted. Now, the thought of how to proceed felt both daunting and exhausting.

The confrontation shouldn’t have been surprising, but the timing was. She had always known that her past would catch up to her one day—when she least expected it—and from an unexpected source.

That day had arrived, embodied in her daughter, bearing down on her like a heavy truck she felt powerless to avoid!

Interestingly, she felt that she didn’t want to escape it!

Time, marked by sadness and solitude, the ongoing demands of life and parenting, had dulled her awareness of this inevitability. But in her darker moments, often in the early hours when sleep eluded her, she had known.

She had known her fears would come back to haunt her.

The fear, the perceived lack of morality on her part, had molded her, leading her to worry and bleed emotionally, to lie and pretend, to become trapped in anxiety.

People didn’t need to know the whole truth. The truth was none of their business. But fabrications were a different matter—difficult to keep track of and easy to trip over. Fabrications are the untruths that leave us exposed!

How different things might have been.

Her thoughts turned back to Ailsa, and she abruptly halted. This incredibly confident woman—who attracted so many people, who was a remarkable businesswoman—was the very person she had woven her shame around.

She should have known.

She should have been prepared... and now, she was enveloped in her shame.

How long Ailsa had suspected was anyone's guess, but one thing was clear to Helen: had her real father walked into her life, she would have made the connection. As his female counterpart, she would have understood. She had inherited his wit, intellect, and zest for life.

Despite shedding a river of tears, she threw herself onto the floor and cried even more—anguished, resentful tears that tore at her soul, tears words could never convey. Eventually, spent from the emotional turmoil, she drifted into sleep, dreaming of a challenging but exciting future where she would finally confront the truth of her past.

But once awake, despite her resolve, she wondered where she could find the courage. How might she be judged?

One thing she was sure of: the greatest casualty in this revelation would undoubtedly be Ailsa—the beautiful, bold Ailsa who faced the world with courage and melted the hearts of everyone she encountered.

Helen's daughter’s assertions about knowing her 'only too well' were not true, no matter how much she stretched her imagination. Yet, the idea of revealing her truths, determined as she was, filled her with monstrous fear that struck terror in her heart.