17
17
Callum
Callum: Any luck securing that time off?
Callum: Alistair?
Callum: Are we ignoring each other now?
Alistair: Sorry!!! Long day.
Alistair: I’m still working on it, I’ll let you know.
“Is this the last delivery of the morning?” In the car park outside the town hall, I swung down from my brother’s ancient Land Rover and opened the back door for Boy.
His tail swishing eagerly as his paws met the gravel.
“This and the Sheep’s Heid.” Bottles clinked as Mal rearranged the crates of whisky stacked three-high, secured in the boot with wide straps.
I had less time to help my brother at the distillery these days, between Dad, Ivy House and the practice.
I found time when I could, mainly because it was one of the few ways to spend time with him.
My wee brother could be more of a workaholic than me.
He’d never complain but I knew he had a lot on his plate with the anniversary ceilidh only a few weeks away.
Boy’s wet nose met my palm, and I brushed it down his neck, kneeling to fuss him.
“There’s a good lad.”
“Don’t praise him,” Mal groused, meeting us on the path, three very full crates in hand.
“He almost refused to get in the truck.”
Taking the crates from him, I looked down at the angelic golden retriever I was certain had never done anything wrong in his life.
“How does a dog refuse, exactly?”
Mal’s fingers rolled anxiously over his other digits as we neared the high street.
A familiar gesture I’d seen less and less in recent months.
Despite his weekly therapy sessions I knew he attended diligently, he still found it tough to come into the village some days.
Rome wasn’t built in a day.
“He tucked himself into bed beside April and huffed every time I asked him to move. He didn’t want to leave Dudley behind,” he explained.
“The two of them are attached at the hip these days.”
I smiled at the mention of April’s feisty, three-legged dachshund.
“That’s fucking adorable.”
“It’s a pain in my arse.” He could grumble all he liked, I knew he’d do anything for the little family he and April had made for themselves.
Even wear a dog sling when Dudley’s legs grew tired.
“Will Dudley go with April when her shoot starts?”
The change came over Mal immediately, eyes lowering, shoulders hunching, and I felt like a shit for bringing it up.
He’d never admit it aloud, but I knew he felt the time slipping with growing trepidation.
Mal was proud of her, but he didn’t relish the idea of her being away for months on end.
“He’s staying with me, it seemed pointless to go to the effort of getting Dudley a pet passport.”
I nudged his shoulder with mine.
“That’s great, Mal. Let me know if you need any help.”
He smiled, though it was small.
“I think Ava and Emily have you beat. They begged me to let them dog-sit weeks ago.”
I grinned at him over my shoulder, paying little attention as I led us onto the stone path and around the corner.
“Luckily I’m their favourite uncle – woah, harpy .”
“Oh,” Juniper gasped, leaping back as we almost collided.
Bottles clacked and I held the crates tightly, fighting my first instinct to reach out and steady her.
“Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
I ate up the sight of her, from her heeled boots to her perfectly styled fringe.
I’d missed her so much; I swear even my teeth ached from it.
It had been three days since the shinty game.
Three days since she’d patched me up in a toilet and, in return, I’d offered up my heart on a butcher’s block.
Three days of cursing my sister’s poor timing and diligently following my own promise to give her space.
I’d almost been tempted to ask Mal’s advice, but I didn’t want to draw him into the mess with Heather.
And while my brother had many talents, conversing with women had never been one of them – even he would admit he’d fallen into his relationship through sheer dumb luck.
A fish could tell another fish how to walk, but we’d both still have flippers instead of feet.
Juniper stared back at me impassively, not a single sign of what occurred at the game on her lovely features.
My body turned hot, suddenly nervous she might somehow sense every dirty thing I’d imagined over the past days.
Namely, her hands pressed to my shower wall.
But all she said was, “Nice shiner.”
“You should see the other guy.”
“It was an accident!” Mal spluttered.
A pretty shade of pink crawled over her cheeks and her eyes flicked to Mal and Boy, like she’d only just noticed their presence.
“Hey, Mal.” Fuck . Would I never grow used to her bashful side?
While I adored her viciousness, I enjoyed her blushing even more.
“June.” Mal nodded back.
And that was the extent of their conversation.
I, for one, wasn’t done.
Far from it. “Fancy seeing you here.” Mal glanced between us.
I paid him no mind. If he wanted to ask, he could ask and I’d answer honestly.
I’d been consumed with an addictive weightlessness since word-vomiting my feelings.
Even if things never went further, the seal had been ripped off.
I was done pretending I wasn’t fucking ecstatic every time our paths crossed.
She held up a bundle wrapped in paper.
“The fabric came in for room five’s new curtains, but they need hemming.”
“Excellent,” I said, curious about the fabric she’d chosen.
“I’ll come with you.” Somewhere along the way, the refurbish at Ivy House had started to feel like our project.
Forgotten crates still in hand, I nodded for her to lead the way to the seamstress.
Before I made it a step, Mal swooped in, scooping the bottles from my arms with an ease I always envied.
“I’ll take these. Meet you back here in fifteen.”
“You’re certain?” I searched his expression.
He rolled his eyes. “I’m a grown man, I think I can handle a single drop-off alone.”
I thanked him with a clap to the shoulder.
“Want me to grab food from Brown’s?”
He shook his head, already backing away with Boy.
“April baked lemon muffins.”
“ What? ” He’d kept that one fucking quiet when I’d been on his doorstep at five a.m. The prick didn’t even have the nerve to answer, simply turned on his heel and disappeared into the stream of people.
With a curse, I turned back to Juniper, only to find her strolling away too.
“Hey,” I broke into a jog.
“Wait up.”
She slowed.
Marginally. “Why?”
She had to be joking.
“So I can walk with you.”
“Again. Why ?”
Stubborn, stubborn woman.
Luckily for the both of us, I had the patience of a saint.
“Because we’re friends .” I emphasised the word and that pretty pink covered her cheeks again.
Damn, confessing my feelings might be the best thing I’ve ever done.
“Friends run errands together sometimes.” The smallest of smiles curled her lips as she looked between me and the path, only for it to give a heartbreaking wobble a second later.
Up close I could see the skin around her eyes was red and puffy, like she’d been crying.
You’re killing me, sweetheart.
I nudged her shoulder with mine.
“Did Shakespeare piss in your cereal?”
She gave a wet laugh.
“You know, pissy Cheerios would actually be better than the horrific realisation that you might be my best friend right now.”
My girl knew how to make a man feel special, I’d give her that .
“Nah,” I said. “Heather’s always had a flair for the dramatics, she’ll come around.” Once I reminded her it was none of her damn business.
“And you’re forgetting a certain redheaded pageant queen. We’ll call it second best.”
She clucked her tongue, pretending to think about it.
“Make it fifth best.”
“Fuck off. I at least want in the top three.” I turned, walking backwards so I could see her face when she released the smallest huff of laughter.
It made me feel ten feet tall.
“So does this friendship come with a bracelet?”
“Absolutely. One of those woven ones with a little charm hanging from it.” Fuck she was cute when she was playful.
Even cuter when she tried to pretend her eyes weren’t roving over me like mine were her.
She came to a stop, that fledgling smile sagging into a frown as something over my shoulder caught her attention.
I turned. A handful of tourists and dogs on leads milled about, minding their own business.
But there, under the awning of the florist, I noticed Jill Mortimer and two other local women.
Huddled in a tight circle, take-out coffee cups in hand, they glanced between us then laughed like schoolgirls.
Noticing my stare, Jill flushed a little and offered a loose-fingered wave.
I nodded in acknowledgement, my attention already straying back to Juniper.
“Are they above me in the friend ranking?” Other than Heather and April and occasionally Jamie, I didn’t see her talk to many people in the village.
She snorted and the short strands of her hair shook.
“ No . I barely know them.”
“They’re staring at you like they do.”
She shook her head again, as though I were an idiot for not cracking the code.
“They aren’t staring at me . Well … not just me. They’re staring at us.”
“ Why? ”
“I don’t know. Because they’re bored and like to gossip. And this—” She gestured between us.
“Is perfect gossip. Jill was at the shinty game, you know.”
“Was she?” I still didn’t see the point she was making.
“And Freya has always hated me because I dated her husband briefly in high school.” She nodded with her chin to the brunette still looking our way.
“Because while you might not have noticed as the village golden boy, it’s hard to shake a reputation around here.”
I was hardly a golden boy, but I got what she was saying.
There was nowhere to hide in a small community.
“And what’s yours?”
She folded her arms, holding the fabric tighter to her chest. “Troubled youth turned scorned woman and now it probably sits somewhere around Satan’s mistress.”
“Damn. It’s the horns and tail that does it for you, isn’t it?” I brushed a hand over my head.
“I have an old Halloween costume lying around somewhere, you’ll never know the difference.”
“Be serious. Ensnaring the venerated village vet pushes me firmly into the scarlet woman category they love squeezing me into.”
“Scarlet woman?” I couldn’t help laughing at her completely serious expression.
“This sounds very high school.”
“Some people never grow up.”
“At least you got one thing right. This venerated vet is completely ensnared.” We smiled at one another, only for her face to fall when the group laughed again.
Louder this time. And I was able to make out a single sentence.
“ With all that black she looks like she works in a mortuary. ”
These fucking people .
Ask me six days out of seven and I’d tell you I adored Kinleith and its occupants, that there was no better place on earth to call home.
Today, bearing witness to the gradual sinking of Juniper’s shoulders and the quiet tension creeping around her mouth, as their immature words struck like bullets, today …
I wanted to burn it to the ground.
How dare they hurt this woman who’d faced more heartache in her short life than many others could survive.
No wonder she kept everyone at arm’s length.
I could force her out of her shell all I wished, but it would never fix the root of the problem.
Fists curling, I cut across the street in the trio’s direction.
“Macabe.” Juniper’s hushed shout followed me but I didn’t slow.
I didn’t care what they were saying, what excuses they gave, from now on, they’d keep their poison to themselves.
“Macabe, stop.” She was at my side, tugging my sleeve.
And then she uttered four words that turned my insides to ice.
“Is that your dad?”
Stopping dead, my head swivelled as though detached from my body.
A hundred yards away, he slowly ambled his way along the uneven cobbles.
Alone.
“Dad!” It took thirty seconds to reach him.
“What are you doing here?” It was a stupid question.
I could already discern from the glazed sheen in his eyes, he didn’t recognise me.
Clearly agitated, he shook me off, trying to continue down the path.
“I’m going to work … I must have got turned around somewhere.”
Relenting my hold, I attempted to steer him beneath the awning of the beauty salon as the first smattering of rain began.
“I can take you in my car.”
“Leave me to it, boy, I’m more than capable.” He snarled the nickname with the usual bite of loathing but the tightness in my chest eased some as his gaze settled on me.
If it was one of his better days it would be easier to get him home.
“Did you come with Mum?”
“No.” He yanked his arm free, wobbling so precariously I lunged to catch him.
His thinning hair fell over his forehead in grey wisps as I settled him against the wall.
“I drove myself.” He drove himself?
How the hell had this happened?
I yanked my phone from my pocket, Mum’s number already on the screen.
“Don’t call her.” He slapped it from my hand, I didn’t even watch it land.
“I don’t need you checking up on me. Who raised you, boy? Who clothed you and fed you? It’s time you showed me some bloody respect.”
How could I ever forget?
The snarl bubbling up my throat melted away when I noticed the front of his trousers, the small but noticeable wet patch staining the dark material.
My chest cracked in two.
For the first time since this man had dropped a terrified sixteen-year-old off at basic training – smaller, weaker and younger than every other recruit – without so much as a See ya, kid , I wanted to sink to my knees and sob.
The urge only grew when Juniper appeared at my side.
So lost to my grief, I hadn’t even heard her approach.
“Hello again, Mr Macabe.” Her voice held a softness I couldn’t place, all traces of our previous conversation washed away.
“Do you remember me?”
It took him a moment.
“Juniper Ross. My son’s lass.”
My son’s lass.
He spoke of Alistair, and yet the untamed caveman inside roared at me to answer, Yes , your son’s lass.
Mine, mine, mine.
Easily nudging me aside, Juniper offered her arm.
“Would you mind escorting me to my car, I’m parked just up the street?” To my surprise, he accepted, allowing Juniper to tuck her arm beneath his, giving the illusion of letting him lead.
Struck speechless, I could only follow.
“You’re a lot prettier without all that metal in your face.” He waved a hand to her profile.
“I never understood what my boy saw in you before, but now … if I was twenty years younger I might try myself.”
He insulted her so casually, like he was reading aloud an article from the newspaper.
That was the cruelty of Alzheimer’s.
It took more than the ability to create and retrieve memories, it stole empathy, and Jim Macabe hadn’t been an empathetic man to begin with.
“Dad—” I started to cut in, refusing to see Juniper on the receiving end of his vitriol, while hating myself for feeling embarrassed.
But I was. Shame burned me from the inside out.
Juniper waved me off, taking it all in her stride.
Somehow that was worse.
I slipped forward to intervene when my mother called my name.
Hand waving overhead, open coat flapping in the wind, she broke into a slow run.
“There you are,” she said to Dad, panting as she drew nearer.
I could see the lines of worry etched into the corners of her mouth.
“Hi, Juniper. It’s lovely to see you.”
“Hey, Mrs Macabe.” Fuck.
I couldn’t look at her.
Couldn’t bear to catch a glimpse of what she must be thinking.
“Iris, please. We’re still family.”
“ Iris ,” Juniper agreed.
“Jim was kindly helping me to my car.”
“Mum, what happened?” As touching as this little reunion was, I needed answers.
She blew out a breath.
“We were in the chemist picking up his prescription. I only turned my back for a minute, and he slipped away from me. He’s still as fast as ever.”
Was she seriously turning this into a joke?
“You should have called me.”
“I was just about to.”
“You should have called the second you lost him.” I hated the chill in my tone, but she needed to stop burying her head in the sand.
Pretending everything was fine only put Dad in jeopardy.
“I didn’t want to disturb you at work.”
I bit down hard on my retort.
That I was already disturbed.
That it would now fall to me to cancel my afternoon appointments and escort them home.
To help bathe him and put him to bed because Mum couldn’t – shouldn’t – do it alone.
That chill spread, encompassing my entire body, because Juniper was still here .
Still witnessing this mess.
My voice turned hollow when I said without looking at her, “Thanks Juniper, we can take it from here.”
“Are you sure? I don’t mind—”
“I’m sure.” I cut her off, moving in to take her place beside my dad.
He leant into me, letting me take his weight.
“Find Malcolm and tell him I had an emergency at work if you want to help.” Arse .
Maybe I was the one who’d lost my empathy.
I didn’t look back as we strolled away.
“Callum—” Mum started.
I shook my head. “We’ll talk at your house.”
I’d expected Juniper to be pissed at me.
So pissed, I’d already ranked Brown’s array of baked goods on my mental Earn Juniper’s Forgiveness plan.
Brownies took the top spot, she had a real sweet tooth, while my beloved oat and raisin cookies came in last. Some days it was hard to believe I was in love with such a monster.
Hours later, I observed her through the break in the trees.
For almost ten minutes I’d watched her like a creeper, standing just far enough back so she wouldn’t catch sight of my sweaty form as she paced my driveway.
Short strides and harsh turns carrying her from one side to the other.
Perhaps she’d come to call me an arsehole to my face.
The anticipation made me lightheaded.
The sun disappeared behind the tree line, turning the yellowing leaves a burned gold.
I glanced at my watch again, letting the axe I’d been using to rage-split wood fall against my thigh.
Make that fifteen minutes.
On her next turn she appeared to come to a decision, steeling her shoulders and murmuring something too indiscernible for me to make out, though I imagined it went a little like, What the hell am I doing outside this rude fucker’s house?
For that, I had no answer either.
Every muscle in my body clenched at the mere sight of her, demanding I replace all thoughts of this clusterfuck of a day with the exquisite high that sparring with her would grant me.
But agitation still left me feeling restless, like a heavy shadow constricting my chest. She was the last person I wanted to take my resentment out on.
If she grew the nerve to knock, I’d ignore her—
Her knuckles rapped two light taps.
I broke the tree line before I could blink.
“Over here.” So much for ignoring her.
She whirled, eyes raking over me, taking in what I knew were wet patches, sticking my white T-shirt to damp skin.
“Nice axe,” she said easily, but I didn’t miss the bob in her throat.
“Are you going to let me in?”
That’s a terrible fucking idea, sweetheart .
My hand tightened around the wooden handle until it bit into my skin.
“Sorry, my mum says I can’t play out tonight.”
Instead of snarling like I anticipated, she laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You’re scowling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you scowl before.” And then she tried the handle, found it open and strolled inside, kicking her shoes off in the porch like she owned the place.
Too busy following her into the living room, I didn’t even have time to enjoy the casualness of it.
“Make yourself at home,” I called, toeing off my own boots.
She ignored me. “I didn’t know you had a rabbit.” On her knees beside the log burner, she hovered over a snoozing Simon.
Tucked into the patchwork blanket my mother knitted for him, you could just about see his face.
What are you doing here, Juniper?
I remained on the other side of the sofa, fingers digging into the fabric as I used it as a barrier.
“He’s registered for AAT,” I said like that was any kind of explanation.
“What’s that?”
“Animal assisted therapy.”
One of her fingers stroked lightly down his soft back.
“So he’s a therapist, not a rabbit?”
I drifted closer, fucking hypnotised by her delicacy.
“It’s not as complicated as all that. Animal therapy is a proven aid, not a fix to mental health struggles. We visit the primary school once a week with the school therapist present and a small group of children can pet him and feed him. It creates a relaxing space for them to feel safe to talk.”
She continued to stroke his back.
“What do they talk about?”
“Whatever they want, their home life, their friends, school struggles.” I was only there to take care of Simon and observe, but I found myself absorbing every word, so bloody proud of Simon when a kid’s tears turned into a grin by the end of a session.
Painfully aware of how desperately my six-year-old self, and Mal, could have benefitted from such a scheme.
“Does Simon enjoy it?”
“Yes, he’s very good at being handled. And I’m always there to remove him from a situation he won’t enjoy.”
She stroked him one final time, a single black-tipped finger tracing from his small head to his tail, and then her attention shifted to the glass of whisky I’d abandoned on the coffee table.
The alcohol more compelling than the sleeping rabbit, it seemed, because she took a healthy swig, right where my lips had been, and sat down on the low table.
What the hell are you doing here?
Too much of a coward to ask the question quite so directly, I tossed another piece of wood onto the fire and took a seat on the sofa.
“Did you interrupt my evening for a reason or simply to steal my booze?”
The glass hung from her fingertips as she held it out to me.
“I came to check on you.”
Taking it, my eyes dragged over our positioning.
How close her knees were to mine.
A tug of her wrist and we’d be chest to chest. “As you can see … I’m fine.”
“Want to talk about it?”
Yes.
“Fuck no. I’m piss-poor company tonight.”
“I’m always piss-poor company.” She stole the glass back, topping it off with the half-empty bottle.
“Your dad is worse than Heather suggested.”
“We just agreed not to talk about it.”
She smiled around the glass.
“I was being polite. Answer the question.”
“Did you ask one?” The glass slipped from her hand to mine.
And the words poured free without me even trying.
“The last few months have been a rapid decline, even the doctors didn’t predict it would be so sudden.”
“And you’re keeping it a secret from your siblings?”
“I’m not keeping it a secret, I’m just … not letting them carry the burden. Alistair is halfway across the country, Heather’s already running herself ragged and Mal—” I broke off, not really sure how to explain it.
“My dad was a bastard to all of us, but Mal received the worst of it.” My teeth clenched; the fury flamed by my own guilt for not being here to protect him from it.
“He owes him nothing.” I’d run myself into the ground before this ever became his problem.
“And you do?”
“I’m the oldest.”
Her expression was unreadable as she rolled the amber liquid around the glass.
She was usually so easy to read, for me, at least, her every thought rolling in her dark eyes.
My ignorance made me lash out.
“Pitying me, harpy?”
Her head tilted and I couldn’t shake the thought she was seeing right through me.
“Perhaps I’m seeing you in a new light.”
After my behavior today, I doubted it was complimentary.
It had only gotten worse at my parents’ house.
I’d accused Mum of being selfish.
Warned that her desperation to cling to the past would get Dad hurt one day.
Even if there was truth to my words, I’d acted like a high-handed prick.
My temples throbbed at the memory of her shattered expression.
I bypassed the glass and went for the bottle.
“Care to elaborate on that statement?”
“I’ve always seen you as this frivolous Ken doll.”
“A Ken doll?” My imagination conjured up fake muscles and a plastic smile.
Yeah … that definitely wasn’t a compliment .
“Like you don’t see it.” She waved a careless hand at me.
“The face, the hair, the body. The way everyone in this village hangs on your every word.”
I didn’t agree with the hanging on my every word part, but, “I do have all of those things.” While I immensely enjoyed Juniper listing all of my attributes, I still didn’t get it.
“How does that liken me to a children’s toy?”
“ Because …” She drew out the word like I was an idiot.
“You have an unattainable perfection that people gravitate to. It allows you to say and do whatever the hell you like without the fear of people hating you. I called you disgustingly honest once, but I was wrong … you’re actually a very skilled liar.”
I laughed but it sounded hollow.
“I’ve really ruined what little respect you’d gained for me, haven’t I? Though, I can’t disagree with that statement.”
“Hardly. You only lie when it comes to yourself.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, you’re the greatest lie I’ve ever told.”
She froze and I could see the indecision in her eyes, whether to address the statement or ignore it.
“While you’re taking care of other people, who’s taking care of you?”
The question took me by surprise.
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me.” Another lie.
I’d let her take care of me.
And I’d take care of her right back.
She opened her mouth to continue, but I was done with her prying.
For years I’d imagined earning her undivided attention, but the reality wasn’t exactly playing out like the fantasy.
For starters, we both had too many clothes on.
I pulled the glass from her fingers.
“You asked your questions. Now it’s my turn.” What slipped from my mouth next, I would forever attribute to the intoxicating mix of her scent in my nose and the whisky in my veins.
I felt too fucking bold.
“Who’s the last person you fucked?”