Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GAVIN
The tree is set up in the corner of the living room with the fireplace glowing off to the side. Violet and Oliver took the lead on decorating once he woke up from his nap, so the majority of the ornaments are hanging low on the tree, but it looks beautiful anyway.
Ruby and Hamish are seated on the overstuffed chair together, she’s draped over him, and Luna is helping Oliver place the final remaining ornaments.
Rhys is in the kitchen making dinner for everyone, giving me a break.
I can’t remember the last time someone made dinner for me in my kitchen, let alone a professional pub chef.
To say I’m looking forward to it is an understatement.
Callie takes a photo of Oliver hanging an ornament, then shows it to her sister. Their family bond doesn’t seem to have been negatively impacted by the distance between them.
Mum and Dad disappeared this morning while we were getting the tree, and now the truck is gone.
I’m trying not to worry about it, but I can’t help looking at the door every few minutes and wondering where they went.
They didn’t leave a note or send a text or anything.
Are they coming back? Was one night enough in their old house, and now they’ve decided to hit the road again?
It wouldn’t be the first time.
Why is my heart racing at the prospect of disappearing parents when I’m a well-established twenty-eight-year-old man? Get a handle on yourself, Gavin.
My phone rings, so I pull it from my pocket as Patty’s name flashes over the screen. The minute hope Mum was phoning to let me know when she’d be home dies a fervent and speedy death. Swiping to answer, I leave the room and slip into the hallway. “Hiya, Patty.”
“Och, it sounds like a right party. How come I didn’t get an invite?”
“Young Hamish and his family are all here. Callie’s sister and her husband and the others.”
She clicks her tongue. “Aye, that house was meant to be full, wasna it?”
The hall is dim, but from here I can see a glass-fronted cabinet at the end of the room. It shows a reflection of the tree and the glowing fire. I can’t make out each person in the room through that glass, but I can see Callie in her pink sweater and my heart flips.
“It’s much livelier,” I agree.
“I won’t be keeping you then, but I’ve had a bit of trouble with my sink.”
“Patty,” I say gently. “My house is full of people. You said so yourself.”
“Aye, but I didn’t know that before I called, did I?”
She knew about Callie. She also knew how much I’d improved over the last few years. These calls weren’t necessary anymore. I wasn’t a danger to myself.
“It’ll be quick,” she promises.
I can see how there is no getting out of this. I run my hand over my short beard and smile. “Be over in a tick.”
“There’s a good lad. Bring Callie, too.”
“Her sister is here. I don’t think—”
“Just bring her, will you?”
Inhaling slowly, I search the glass for her reflection again and find her laughing. The sound filters through the room, reaching me. It’s infectious. I definitely made a mistake pushing her away, didn’t I?
“I’ll try,” I tell her. “See you soon.”
We ring off. When I return to the living room, Callie is laughing at the story Luna is sharing. I’m missing the details, but it doesn’t matter. Callie’s reaction is taking up most of my attention anyway.
I have a bloody crush on the woman, don’t I?
“Is something wrong?” Hamish asks, snapping my attention away from Callie’s laugh.
The faces in the room all turn to look at me. Thanks for that, cousin. “No, not terribly. My neighbor needs help with a pipe, so I need to run down the road. It shouldn’t take too long.”
“Patty?” Callie asks, sitting up. Did that…did she sound hopeful? “Do you mind if I come?”
“She specifically requested to see you, actually.”
“I’ll grab my coat.”
Luna looks between us, wearing a self-satisfied smirk.
I want to tell her to lower her expectations immediately.
Doesn’t she realize that Callie has almost five years left of school before she’ll be finished?
That she can’t transfer to any old university?
That she’s stuck in Southern California, and subsequently feeling very stuck?
“Can we build a snowman now?” Violet asks as soon as the final bit of tinsel is strung on a branch. “You said we can build a snowman, Mummy.”
Ruby leans back against Hamish and closes her eyes. “Mummy is sleeping, but Daddy will probably take you.”
Violet blinks at her twice before shifting her attention to Hamish. “Please, Daddy?”
“Fetch your coat, love.”
Violet squeals, running off to layer on her winter wear.
“Carrots are in the cupboard,” I tell him. “If you need a nose.”
Hamish heads for his coat and a snowman’s nose while I pull on gloves and my scarf near the front door, fighting a yawn. I’ve been heading to Rhona’s every morning to care for her animals, despite her strong objections, and staying awake late with Callie each night, and my sleep is suffering.
“Ready,” Callie says, coming into the entryway quickly, her boots laced and coat zipped up to her chin. She takes one look at my face and bumps her shoulder into mine. “Hey, you okay?”
“Wee bit knackered.”
“We’ll fix that tonight.”
Short of singing me to sleep, I don’t know how this woman intends to help me get more sleep, but I’m eager to find out.
Patty is waiting for us when we arrive. She opens the door and ushers us into her warm house. The tea is already set on the table for three, with shortbread in the center on a plate and steaming cups of hot liquid. “Sit with me, Callie,” she says.
“I’d love to.”
Callie follows her to the table and they chatter on while I let myself into the bathroom to fix a sink that isn’t broken.
She’s only pulled the handle off and made it so I have to put it back on.
It’s almost pathetic how badly she’s faking needing the help now, but I don’t know if I’d prefer she stopped altogether or not.
I screw the handle back on and turn the tap, making sure the water pours out the spigot just fine. Nothing is wrong with it. As usual, I brought my bag of tools in here for nothing. But it helps us both feel a little better about the arrangement.
“That’s a lot of butter,” Callie says around a mouthful.
“Wouldn’t be shortbread without it, mind,” Patty says. “Come over next week and we’ll make it together.”
“Deal. I think it would help if you walked me through it the first time.”
“You can be my sous chef like they have in all those fancy cooking television programs, and I’ll tell you what to do.” Patty’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “I heard you two are a couple now.”
I sit hard on my chair, glad it doesn’t break under the pressure of my surprise drop.
Callie glances at me. “I’m only here for a few more weeks, so we’re not labeling anything. I still have so much school left to do in California—it doesn’t make sense to begin a new relationship now.”
“Hm.” Patty looks at me as I lift my cup to my lips. “You’re going to accept that?”
I sputter, almost spitting my tea on the table. “Should I tell Callie to quit school and not get her doctorate, become a psychologist, and help many, many people? That would be selfish.”
Patty scoffs. “Love isn’t selfish.”
This also isn’t love, but I don’t want to break her bubble.
She glances between us. “Love makes the ordinary beautiful. It’s having the feeling of home, no matter where you are. It’s so powerful you realize what truly matters and what doesn’t.”
Cryptic.
“So if we loved each other, nothing would matter but being together?” Callie asks.
“Not exactly.” Patty lays a gnarled hand over hers. “It straightens out your priorities, hen. You’ll see what I mean.”
Callie looks as lost as I feel. She opts to eat another piece of shortbread, which is a solid plan. I do the same.
When we walk to the door with Patty to leave, she stops me. “Rhona might need a little help today.”
“I’ve seen to her animals already.”
“Aye, but not her house. It can be difficult to do everything with one hand.”
I throw my arm around Patty and give her a squeeze. “Call me if you need anything at all.”
“I always do.”
When we get in the car and pull out of Patty’s long driveway, Callie turns on the seat to face me. “Should we go to Rhona’s?”
“Do you know Rhona?”
“We met at the ugly sweater party briefly. If she’s struggling, maybe we should check on her.”
“She’ll call me tomorrow. Don’t worry.”
“You sound confident.”
“It’s not an assumption; it’s a guarantee.” I pull onto the main road and turn on the windscreen wipers as the snow starts up.
“Let me guess,” Callie says, Sherlock-style. “Why does everyone call you at the same time every day to fix something in their house that doesn’t really need fixing?”
“Are you using your one question?”
Callie draws in a slightly dramatic gasp. “You’re going to make me use it on that?”
I fight a grin. I’ve been a little worried she’d ask me something like whether I want to kiss her now or how I feel about her. Both of those things could make it weird in the house between us moving forward. This is much better.
Then, if she gets all forthright and American on me with another forward question, I can opt not to answer.
“Aye, if you want to know.”
She sits back in her seat and pouts. “Yes. Fine. I want to know.”
The levity disappears at once. I turn down the heat, feeling stuffy and warm. My scarf is choking me, so I unwind it and toss it in the back seat. “You remember I told you Blair left me and took Liv?”
She nods.
My nape breaks out in a sweat. Admitting my past to her the other night was scary enough, but it was late and dark and quiet.
The house was sleeping and she was interested in what I had to say.
With my attention divided between the road and Callie, the bright snow reflecting through the windscreen and giving no illusions about harsh light of day, this is different.
I swallow against a dry throat. “I told you I became depressed after she left, that my granny practically moved into my house to take care of me.”
“Yes.”
“I wasn’t living with my parents then. I was in a small cottage down the road, and it wasn’t good. I quit taking care of myself, Callie. I stopped eating, stopped showering. I lost the will to do anything important. I was entirely apathetic.”
Callie says nothing. She watches me, quietly absorbing my story.
I’m not worried she’ll see me in a different way after this, exactly, but I am concerned about how she’ll view my small community as a whole—this wee bedrock that has become my stalwart foundation and support. I’m mightily protective of them.
“After Granny convinced me to see Rhona for counseling, I slowly made my way back to the land of the living, but everyone was concerned about the state of my mental health. They didn’t want me to slide back into despair, so they came together and created a schedule so someone would always be checking on me. ”
Callie draws in a soft gasp. “Don’t tell me they fake all these house repairs just to make sure you’re doing okay?”
“In the beginning, the tasks were real things they needed help with. Patty and Douglas had plenty of things they needed doing around the house. It’s only recently they started doing things to their house just so I would have to come by and fix them.”
“And Rory,” she guesses.
“Rory is another, aye. Granny. Grandad. Katie. Rhona. Seven people for seven days of the week.”
Callie shifts in her seat abruptly. “They check on you every day? Every single day?”
“A few of them have taken breaks this week while they know you’re here. But typically they come by or call me for help every day.”
“And you go along with it.”
“I get shortbread or tea at every visit, don’t I?”
Callie stares at me.
I don’t look back, because I’m guiding my car onto my lane and keeping an eye out for Violet and her snowman.
“At this point, why don’t they just invite you over for tea instead? Or call and ask if you’re doing alright so you don’t have to fix things that aren’t broken?”
Violet’s nowhere to be seen, but her snowman—leaning a little to the side and wearing the largest carrot I have—is placed directly in front of the house.
I drive along the lane to the side of the house and pull into the open garage at the back.
It’s dim inside, and I don’t turn the car off.
This conversation doesn’t feel quite over, and the large door is open to let out the exhaust fumes.
“I suppose they didn’t want to frighten me away in the beginning, or they feared I would turn their invitations down.
Now…I don’t know. They could stop. I’m not in danger of succumbing to that darkness again.
I keep up my therapy with Rhona, and that episode is behind me.
” I lean back on the headrest and turn my neck so I’m looking at Callie. “But I would miss them, I think.”
“Then tell them that. Invite them to tea.”
She has such an American problem-solving way of looking at things.
This system isn’t broken, though. There’s no need to change it.
I don’t need to fix anything. But having tea for the sake of friendship is appealing—not needing to pretend everything is fine, that we’re all not doing this dance for the sake of my mental health.
Yet, I can’t see Patty calling to invite me to tea without a reason—phony as we both know it may be.
I shake my head. “We aren’t so straightforward about things.”
“Which is why you’ve spent years pretending to fix pipes that aren’t broken.”
“Aye.” When she says it like that, it sounds silly. But I know it isn’t. It’s love. They’re all acting out of compassion, and I love them deeply for it.
Callie rests her head against the seat, mirroring my position, and looks at me. “Follow-up question?”
“Depends.”
“Why aren’t your parents in the rotation? Is it because they’re never around?”
I sit back in the seat and look through the windscreen at the garage wall. “You’ve used up your question, Callie. Time to head inside.”
“Hey, not fair.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Want another one?”
“Yes.”
“Find a way to earn it, I guess.” I open the car door and let myself out, filling my lungs with cold, fresh air.
Callie comes around the back of the car and stops me, pressing a hand to my chest to keep me from moving. My entire body freezes at the contact. “Trust me, Gavin. I plan to.”