I found myself thinking constantly of Sylvie over the next few days. Whether I was a moth to the flame of someone’s personal tragedy, or if it was because she reminded me of Mel, I didn’t know. Or maybe it was because there was something about the kid and her grown-up seriousness that tugged at my heartstrings. Whatever the reason, she was on my mind, and I was hoping I might see her again a week later as I was busying myself to leave the flat for the hospital. I wanted to make sure the kid was doing all right.
As I was finishing my coffee and picking up my backpack to go, there was a knock on my door. Hurrying quietly over to it, I got up on my tiptoes to squint through the peephole. My stomach dropped at the sight of Seonaid and Angie on the other side. I glanced behind me at my small apartment. The kitchen was one counter along the back wall with an oven, sink, cupboards, and a small fridge/freezer. It was directly opposite the sitting room, which was only big enough for two small couches, a tiny coffee table, and a television. Directly ahead of the front door was the door to the bedroom, big enough for a bed, and it had a built-in-wardrobe for the few clothes I had. There was a tiny, seen-many-better-days bathroom off the bedroom.
It was tidy and clean, but grim and depressing, and miles away from what Jim had been striving for.
“We heard you moving around, Nora. Open up,” Seonaid said.
With no other choice, I turned the multiple locks on the door and pulled back the chain. As soon as the door was open, Angie and Seonaid barged in. Seonaid looked annoyed and Angie concerned. Jim’s mother shook her head, gesturing for me to shut the door. “Jim wid hate that ye’er livin’ here. I wish ye’d rethink and come stay with me until ye’er on yer feet.”
“You know how much that offer means to me, Angie, but I need to take care of myself.” I walked around them, feeling their eyes burning into me as I grabbed my backpack, making it clear I was on my way out. Jim’s family and friends had been so kind to me over the last year. They hadn’t stopped acting like I was a member of their family. But being around them was too difficult for me.
“You’re going out?” Seonaid scowled. “We dropped by to ask you to come out for brunch with us. We both have the day off.”
“I can’t.” I said apologetically. “I’m volunteering at the hospital.”
“Volunteering being the operative word,” Seonaid said. “Go another day. We haven’t see you in ages.”
Guilt over avoiding them gnawed at me. I realized that the wall I’d put up between me and Jim’s family and Roddy had hurt them, but I couldn’t bear to hear them talk about how lucky Jim was to have had me in his life; how he got to at least have that kind of amazing love before he died. The guilt wrecked me, carved me up inside because they didn’t see the ugly truth. They persisted in trying to keep me a part of the family and I allowed them to, because part of me needed the punishment their presence provided.
“I can’t. Jan is expecting me.”
Angie’s face fell. “Surely she can dae without ye this once. I’ve no seen ye in weeks, Nora.”
“I know.” I squeezed her arm as I passed them, heading for the door. “I’ll make it up to you. But I promised the kids I’d be back this week and I can’t make promises to sick kids and not keep them, you know.”
“I think volunteering at the hospital is wonderful, but I dinnae want yer whole life to be about it. Assure me it’s no.” Angie said, looking worried.
I’d opened the door, wishing I could escape without answering, because I didn’t have the answer she wanted. So I lied. “It’s not. I promise. But it is worthwhile. It takes the kids out of the reality of their situations for a while and it makes me feel good for now.”
They seemed to reluctantly accept that as they walked out of my apartment, disappointed I was choosing the hospital over them again. They also seemed to sense there was more to my volunteering than the need for charity. I wondered how they could be so suspicious of my motives now, but have never clued in on the fact that all was not sweetness and light between Jim and me. I remembered the way Angie had touched my face in sympathy when she’d seen I’d cut off all my hair. She thought she understood why because everyone had heard Jim say at some point or another how I was never to cut my hair, that he loved my hair. But Angie didn’t really understand why I did it.
My long hair wasn’t a painful reminder of Jim, of losing him. It was the agonizing reminder that I’d started to lose myself when I’d followed him to Edinburgh to escape my life. Once there, once I’d realized I didn’t love him like he loved me, instead of being honest, I’d stayed with him and played the part of the wife he’d wanted, and in doing so lost myself entirely.
Sylvie was back. Her father once more had some business thing come up, and he’d dropped her off at the hospital for a few hours, despite the fact he’d said they couldn’t keep imposing. After I’d finished reading to the kids, with help from Sylvie once again, my precocious new young friend asked me to have lunch with her in the cafeteria. She’d even tried to buy my lunch, much to my amusement.
“So why here?” I said, nosy, as we ate mac and cheese. “Why doesn’t your dad drop you off at your uncle’s?”
She sighed, as though she had the weight of the world on her tiny shoulders. “Uncle Aidan is really busy. I know it. But he would hang out with me instead of doing his work. It’s not fair. Daddy kind of promised Uncle Aidan it wouldn’t happen again, but ...” She shrugged. And then she smiled. “But we get to hang out so it’s cool.”
I was still concerned by the instability in Sylvie’s life, but I smiled. “It is.”
“I told Uncle Aidan all about you and how you let me read with you.” She grinned. “Did I tell you Uncle Aidan knows famous people?”
Trying not to laugh, I nodded. “You might have mentioned it.”
“He’s a music producer and composer,” she said. “That means he works on famous people’s music with them and also he writes, like, music for films and stuff. You know, like, music without words.”
That was pretty swanky and impressive. “Like score music.”
She nodded her head vigorously. “He has all these instruments and computer stuff. He’s really clever.”
“He sounds really clever.”
“Yeah, and,” she continued on, as excited about her subject as ever, “Uncle Aidan had a room painted blue and purple in the flat and all these pretty things put in it with a big bed just for me. My tutor Miss Robertson said I’m a really lucky girl.”
“Yeah.” I smiled, growing nosier about her life by the second. “And does Miss Robertson teach you a lot?”
“Uh-huh. She comes to the house Mondays, Tuesdays, and Fridays. And we work all day,” she groaned. “It’s not like school at all. It’s harder because I’m the only kid in the class. I can’t get away with anything.”
She sounded so beleaguered it made me laugh. It was good to know she was receiving a fine education but I still think it was about time this kid got back to school and had some normality in her life.
Suddenly, she giggled, making me smile. “What is it?”
She leaned across the table and whispered, “I think Miss Robertson fancies Uncle Aidan.”
I chuckled at her mischief. “Yeah? You trying to play matchmaker?”
Sylvie wrinkled her nose. “Nah. Uncle Aidan has been all over the world and he’s dated some of the most beautifulest ladies I’ve ever seen.”
Feeling put out for Miss Robertson, I reminded her gently, “Beauty is only skin deep.”
“Mum used to say that too.” Sylvie nodded. “But I don’t think she told Uncle Aidan that.”
I burst out laughing before I could stop myself. Her uncle sounded like quite the character.
“Do you have an uncle?” Sylvie asked suddenly.
Sobering at the mention of family, I shook my head. “No.” Neither of my parents had siblings.
“Are your mum and dad in America?”
“They are.”
“They must miss you.”
The thought was a deep ache in my chest. Too deep. Too painful. “What about you? Is Uncle Aidan your only other relative?”
“My nana and grandad live in England so I only see them every now and then. My dad doesn’t have parents. He was in foster care when he was growing up.”
“What is your dad’s job?” I found it telling that Sylvie was so excited to talk about her uncle Aidan and his career, but she’d yet to offer up much on her father.
“He’s an engineer.” She said. “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means he’s very smart.”
She nodded. “I suppose.”
I frowned. “Sometimes adults get busy, huh?”
A surprisingly mulish expression appeared on her face. “Uncle Aidan always makes time.”
The hero worship she had for him was off the charts. I almost felt sorry for her dad. And basically anyone who was competing for her affection. Her uncle sounded like an experienced, cultured, intimidating, mythical being.
Uncle Aidan was clearly a superhero and not of this planet.
The next week Sylvie was there again, this time having begged her uncle to drop her off at the hospital to take part in the reading and sit with me a little while. I couldn’t stay as long with her, however, because I’d promised Seonaid I’d meet her for lunch. Leaving Sylvie in the capable hands of Jan, I took off reluctantly. Despite how ill-at-ease Seonaid could make me feel, I also needed her, and that’s why I wouldn’t put so much space between us that it would damage our friendship.
We were meeting at her favorite coffee place, The Caffeine Drip, in New Town, a good thirty-minute walk on an average day. It became forty-five minutes during the Fringe, as I tried to maneuver my way through the crowded streets. The temperature was warm but the dark clouds above and the humidity suggested a storm was coming. By the time I got to the coffee shop, my clothes were sticking to me and I was thankful for my short hair.
“You’ve put weight on,” Seonaid said, hugging me.
I raised an eyebrow as I pulled back. “Is that good?”
She gave me a reassuring smile. “You were looking a little thin.”
The truth was I did have more of an appetite lately. I didn’t know if it was the kids, or if meeting Sylvie had put things into perspective for me, but I was feeling a little more aware. Like I’d been unconscious for a while, but something was stirring me awake.
“I feel fine.”
“Good.” She scrutinized me.
I was grateful when the friendly waitress appeared to take our order, breaking my friend’s gaze. Once the waitress was gone, I attempted to guide the conversation away from myself. “How’s work?”
“Usual.” She shrugged. “Busy.”
Seonaid loved talking about her work, which meant she was deliberately trying to steer conversation back to me.
Crap.
“And how’s …” I scrambled to remember the name of the guy she’d been dating recently. When Jim died, Fergus had been less than supportive. It was too much for him and he broke up with Seonaid just when she needed him the most. Although it was awful, I think it was the best thing that could’ve happened to Seonaid. It woke her up to the kind of men she’d been dating. From then on, she’d decided to only date nice guys, no matter how sexy they were or weren’t to her. She tried online dating, and had unfortunately gone through a stream of really nice guys who didn’t turn her on.
“Frank,” she supplied with a sigh. “Frank is gone. Frank could not find the clit so bye-bye, Frank.”
I gave a bark of laughter. “Poor Frank.”
“Hey, Frank was ten years older than me. If he hasn’t found the clit in the twenty-odd years he’s been having sex, then Frank is either lazy or clueless. Neither appealed to me.”
Smirking, I nodded. “Got it.”
“Anyway, despite Frank, I’m enjoying online dating. I’ve met some interesting people, and made friends with the guys who I didn’t connect with sexually.”
“I’m glad.” I was not glad for the speculative look in her eyes.
“So, I was thinking maybe you could set up a profile on the dating site I use.”
And there it was.
“I don’t think so.”
“It would get you out of the house.”
“I don’t have a house.”
“Flat. It would get you out of that dinky, depressing little flat you hibernate in.”
“I don’t hibernate.”
“Going to work and volunteering at a hospital does not equate to socializing.”
“I disagree.”
“Nora, please think about it. I don’t want to push, but I’m worried about you. It’s like you’re refusing to move on.”
The waitress reappeared with our food. Once she’d left, I looked at my plate, my annoyance and guilt fighting with one another. I picked up my fork and knife, my fingers curling tightly around them in irritation before I could use them to cut into my panini. Unable to look at her for fear she’d see the emotion roiling in my eyes, I said with quiet sternness, “I’m not online dating. You don’t want to push me, then don’t push me.”
Awkward silence fell over the table as we made a show of eating. Finally, unable to bear her hurt silence anymore, I queried, “How’s Roddy?”
Apparently, it was the right thing to ask because Seonaid blew out a beleaguered breath. “He’s messing around with the new barmaid at Leith’s Landing. I don’t know what he sees in her. She’s as dull as dishwater. All she does is pout and giggle.”
“And give him sex with no strings attached.” I nudged the hornet’s nest.
Seonaid’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what he thinks. But I can see she’s trying to wrangle him into a relationship. I swear to God if he even thinks about settling down with that spoon, I will end him.”
“Why do you care who he settles down with?”
She gave me a duh look. “It’s Roddy.”
“Surely, we should be happy for him, no matter who he ends up with?”
“I’d quite like to hear you say that to him the next time he complains about one of my boyfriends.”
God, I wanted smack their heads together. Could two people be more blind about how they felt for each other?
“Fair enough.”
“So …” She studied me in that thoughtful way of hers. “Tell me about the volunteering.”
“What do you want to know?”
“I want to know that you’re not surrounding yourself with children who aren’t going to be here in a year’s time.”
Understanding her concern, I gave her a reassuring smile. “Some of the kids are pretty sick but most aren’t terminal. Some of those poor kids are too ill to sit in a room and listen to me tell stories or play games. I’m fine. In fact, this one kid isn’t even sick,” I said, grinning as I thought about Sylvie. “Her mom was a nurse there …” I went on to tell her about Sylvie and her guardian, the epic Uncle Aidan.
“He sounds hot,” Seonaid decided.
I snorted. “How can someone sound hot?”
“Well, for one, he clearly has money. The apartment she described in Fountainbridge … not cheap. Also, she says he works with famous people and has dated beautiful women. Pretty people usually stick together.”
“Not true. There have been many unattractive famous men who have ended up with beautiful young women.”
“I’m not saying he’s probably typically good-looking. Seemingly unattractive men can be so charismatic, they’re hot.”
Chuckling, I shook my head. “Why does it matter if he’s hot or not? The important thing is that this great kid has had the crappiest thing in the world happen to her and she’s so strong but he’s clearly blind to that. He keeps her locked up in that flat with a tutor instead of sending her back to school where she belongs. And she hero-worships him so much, she’s not going to complain about not being at school with her friends. She lost her mom—she won’t want to do anything to push him away.”
Seonaid nodded. “I see your point. I do. But you don’t know the whole situation, you only know what you’ve gotten from the kid. Try suddenly becoming guardian to a kid who lost her mum to a long-term illness and has a flaky father. Wouldn’t you wrap that kid up in cotton wool too? Being overprotective in this situation isn’t really a bad thing. Give the poor guy a break.”
Her advice percolated and I found myself frowning. “I didn’t mean to be judgy. I just … I really like the kid. I’m worried about her.”
“I can see that.” Seonaid cocked her head in thought. “Maybe you should try to meet the uncle—get a feel for him. You know, so you can rest assured she’s in good hands.”
Knowing exactly why she wanted me to meet the uncle—and it wasn’t purely for Sylvie’s sake—I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “You’re indefatigable.”
Seonaid’s brows drew together. “All I heard was the word fat.”
“It means dogged. Persistent. You never stop.”
She adopted an innocent expression. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I’m talking about you trying to match me up with every man I come in contact with.”
“That’s not true.” She waved her fork at me. “I have never tried to set you up with Roddy. I’m not that cruel.”
“Hey,” I waved my fork right back at her, “I’d be lucky to be Roddy Livingston’s girl.”
“Yeah?” She smirked at me. “If you feel that strongly, maybe you should pick up a phone and I don’t know … call him once in a while.”
Well, I walked right into that one. “I call him,” I hedged.
“Then hang up and when he calls back, you don’t answer.”
Flushing at my stupidity, I asked quietly, “Did he tell you that?”
“Aye. He did. And this is Roddy, Nora. He doesn’t think, ‘aw, wee shame, Nora’s having a tough time connecting with her dead husband’s best friend who also happens to be her best friend.’ He’s thinking, ‘If she doesn’t fucking cut the bullshit, I’m done.’”
I blanched at the thought of losing Roddy. “I’ll call him.”
She reached over and grabbed my hand. “He can’t say it because it’s Roddy and admitting any real feelings would send him into septic shock, but he loves you. When he lost Jim, he lost a brother. You’re like a sister to him, more than I ever was. Don’t … don’t hurt him, Nora.”
Tears suddenly burned in my eyes and I dropped my gaze. “He’s the last person I want to hurt.” I couldn’t explain to her how difficult it was to be around Roddy. How it brought all the memories flooding back to that time when I should have let Jim McAlister walk out of my life and find someone who could love him the way he deserved.
“How about this? You, Roddy, and I meet for a drink at Leith’s Landing?”
“Won’t the barmaid you hate be there?”
She sneered. “Yes. But I’m willing to put up with it if it makes it easier for you to spend time with Roddy.”
“It’s because he reminds me so much of Jim,” I hurried to explain, not wanting her to know the real reason.
Seonaid nodded. “I get it. So? Next Sunday?”
“Yeah, okay,” I agreed, hating the swarming kaleidoscope of butterflies that erupted in my belly at the thought.