20. Angelica
20
ANGELICA
“ Y ou’re not going anywhere,” Dad hollers after me as I chase Sawyer up the stairs. “I haven’t driven all this way for you to leave, Angelica.”
Tears sting my eyes, making it difficult to see.
Sawyer pulls a holdall from under the bed and shoves random things in from around the room. “You need to talk to your dad, tell him the truth. Tell him what you told me.”
“No. I’m coming with you.” I wipe my tears, trying to put on a brave face for Sawyer and my dad, but my body vibrates with adrenaline.
“Hey, look at me.” Sawyer takes my face between his palms, grounding me in the present. “Deep breaths.” His thumb swipes under my eyes, wiping away more tears. “This doesn’t change how I feel about you.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “But I won’t take you away from your dad. Right now, he’s feeling betrayed by the both of us. Only you can stay and talk to him. Can you do that for me?”
I nod and try to swallow the prickling lump at the back of my throat, like a pine cone lodged there, making it difficult to breathe. My hand fists his checked shirt and I rest my forehead against his chest, soaking up the scent of the man I love, not knowing when I’ll see him again.
“That’s my good girl. I’m just at the other end of the phone and I’ll text you. I promise.” He lifts my chin and kisses my lips before packing the rest of his stuff.
I drop onto the bed as he busies around me, but it’s as if I’m not here, watching everything unfold like an out-of-body experience as Sawyer packs his life into a bag, along with my heart.
“You okay?” He lugs his large bag onto his shoulder and holds his hand out for me.
I take his hand in a daze, letting him pull me to a standing position. “Where will you go?”
“I’ll walk to the Black Crow.”
“Do you want to take my car?”
“No, you’ll need that. I’ll come back for the bike when the snow clears. Take care of her for me.”
I follow him down the stairs. Dad and Lorraine’s voices sound from the kitchen as they talk amongst themselves.
Sawyer hands me his keys, then stares over my shoulder, his jaw tightening as he faces my dad. “You know why she didn’t tell you where she was staying? Because she didn’t want to ruin your Christmas.” He points his finger towards Dad. “Your daughter’s the most selfless person I know, and even when her life was falling apart, she didn’t want to burden you because she wanted you and Lorraine to enjoy your first Christmas together. Her words were that you deserve to be happy. Shame you can’t show her the same sentiment.”
Dad glares at Sawyer, but Sawyer fixes his eyes on me as he walks out the door, mouthing the words I love you.
I close the door behind him and take a deep inhale, ready to face my father.
He stands in the kitchen, a large, formidable man, much like Sawyer. “You have some explaining to do, young lady.”
Usually I’d run into my daddy’s arms and he’d make everything better, but things feel different now. I feel different. No longer Daddy’s little girl. I’m a woman now.
Lorraine’s on her hands and knees in front of the cabinet with a dustpan and brush, as if trying to piece our family back together. But this family was broken when my mum had her accident.
“Dad, I’m sorry I’ve let you down.” I can’t stand the disappointment in his eyes. The last time he looked at me this way was when I lied about doing my homework.
“I can’t look at you right now.” He closes his eyes, his jaw tight as he breathes heavily through his nostrils. He brushes past me and stomps out the door.
I follow him, running out into the icy snow, hoping he doesn’t follow Sawyer, but he lights up a cigarette and walks around the back of the cabin out onto the pier, staring out at the lake, the water lapping in the distance.
Cold wraps all around me and I’ve never felt more alone. It’s like losing Mum all over again. I breathe in, the icy chill filling the void in my heart until I’m numb.
Walking back into the cabin, Lorraine’s still on her knees with a small handheld vacuum, sucking up the remaining glass from underneath the cabinet.
I kneel next to her to help clear up the mess. An image from my sixteenth birthday party sits beneath cracked glass. Mum, Dad, Sawyer, and me. I insisted he get on the picture because he’s always been like family.
Lorraine turns the vacuum cleaner off and places her hand on mine as it rests on my knee. “Don’t worry, my love. Just give your dad some time. He’ll calm down.” She shakes the cracked glass from the photograph into the bin and carefully slides the image from the frame. “Your mother was a beautiful woman.” She admires the family photograph before handing it to me. “You look just like her.”
I take the photo. “Thank you.”
“It’s been hard for your dad to open up about her. He carries that guilt of her accident and blames himself for not being around. He’s been chain-smoking all day, waiting for you to call him back.”
“I’m sorry.” Guilt fills my lungs until I’m drowning in it. I should have been honest with Dad from the start.
“You don’t have to apologise. It’s not your fault, it’s just how your dad is. I know he’s overprotective and overbearing, but it’s only because he loves you so much.” She clears the rest of the mess away as I sit, gazing at the photograph in my hand.
Boots stomp into the kitchen. A shadow covers the image, blocking out the light. The familiar smell of his cigarettes clings to his clothes and the fresh scent of snow from his boots.
“I salvaged what I could,” Lorraine says.
Dad’s fingers trace the outline of Mum’s face on another photograph, then mine as a little girl in his arms. “Thank you, honey. I’m sorry I lost my temper. You didn’t need to see that.”
She gives him a warm smile and then flicks her eyes to me, kneeling on the floor. “Don’t worry about it. Sort things out with Angelica. She needs you.”
I pull myself up using the cabinet for leverage, my body like a dead weight and my legs like jelly. “Please don’t be mad at me, Dad.”
“Muffin.” He sighs heavily and runs a hand over his face. “I love you. I can never stay mad at you.” He opens his arms to me and I close the distance, letting out the breath I was holding. “Just tell me the truth. Why has your life fallen apart?”
Lorraine rubs a hand over my back. “How about I make you a nice hot chocolate?”
“Yes, please.” I let go of Dad, determined not to cry. I want to show him I’m capable of taking care of myself and even though I still need him, he doesn’t need to take care of me.
“I’ll have a glass of brandy,” Dad says as he guides me into the living room.
I drop onto the sofa with a bounce. “I’m not going back to London. I’m staying here.”
“Muffin, you can’t give up your career for a man.” Dad sits in the armchair next to the fire.
My eyebrows pull together. “Mum left her job for you.”
“No muffin, your mum left her curator role at the National Gallery for you. She found out she was pregnant and didn’t want to raise you in the city.” A hand runs over his tired face. “Please tell me you’re not pregnant. Just how long have you and Sawyer been carrying on?”
I fiddle with the hem of my pyjama sleeves, pulling them down over my hands. If Dad’s upset for me lying about my whereabouts over the last week, he’s going to be devastated when he finds out I’ve been lying about my job all year. “I’m not pregnant, Dad. Sawyer’s been the perfect gentleman…until last night. He has nothing to do with me leaving London.”
He seems to relax a little and lean back in the chair, waiting for me to continue.
“I went to London because I wanted to make you proud and make Mum proud.”
“Muffin, you have. I couldn’t be prouder. I tell everyone about how you’re living your best life down there.”
Lorraine comes through carrying a hot chocolate and a brandy for Dad. “Get that down you, love. Everything’s better with hot chocolate.”
“That’s what Mum used to say.” A smile cracks my face, breaking through my sadness like a flicker of hope. The pathetic lights on the Christmas tree flash, reminding me that even when all hope seems lost, even the smallest light can eliminate the darkness.
“Your mum knew what she was talking about.” Lorraine’s warm smile fills the void in my heart with a little more courage.
“Thank you, darling.” Dad takes the brandy from Lorraine and she retreats to the kitchen.
“I loved listening to Mum’s stories about the National Gallery, and each Christmas she would take me to London with her to see the enormous tree in Trafalgar Square and we’d look at all her favourite paintings.”
“She could talk the hind legs off a donkey when she started going on about art. I used to switch off, but you were always so engrossed in what she would say.” Dad has a whimsical smile on his face. He never talks about Mum like this. “I miss that about her now. Wish I’d listened to more of her stories, but I’m glad you remember them. Maybe the two of us can visit the gallery together sometime.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to visit since you started working there. The last time I went was when I was working down there on the remodelling of the offices. It’s how I met your mother.” His features soften as he reminisces. “I was hoping you’d give me a VIP tour.”
Inhaling a deep breath, I close my eyes, the hot chocolate aroma soothing me, then exhale with the truth. “I can’t do that anymore. I got fired.”
Dad sits up in his chair, the ice in his brandy rattling against the glass. “What happened?”
I blow on the hot chocolate and warm my hands on the mug. “I never worked for the National Gallery. I’m sorry I lied.” My shoulders cave inwards. I stare into the swirling hot chocolate, unable to look Dad in the eyes.
“But you used to send me photos, selfies of you after hours.” Dad’s brow furrows. I’m sure he’s gained ten more wrinkles from tonight alone.
My fingers outline the key at my neck, wishing Sawyer was still here, but if he’s given me anything this Christmas, it’s the confidence to speak up. I drop my hand to my lap and lift my chin. “I was the cleaner. A cleaning agency employed me.”
Now Dad looks even more perplexed. “You, a cleaner?”
“I’m sorry I lied, Dad. I thought I could keep applying for jobs and you’d never know, but when I got fired, I couldn’t afford to pay rent on my own since Eve moved to the States when she got offered her dream job as a forecaster.”
“Back up for a minute.” Dad lifts his glass of brandy, waving it around in his hand. “Someone employed you as a cleaner?”
“Yes.” When he says it out loud, I know what he’s thinking.
“No wonder they fired you.” He takes a long pull on his brandy and lets out a hearty laugh. “I’m sorry, muffin, but I’ve never known you to clean anything in your entire life.”
“Da-ad,” I whine, but know he’s right. I’m terrible at cleaning, my flatmate used to say the same. No wonder she left and took her pussycat with her.
Lorraine comes into the living room with a hot chocolate of her own. She perches next to me on the sofa. “Take no notice of him. My sons never lifted a finger either.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me you were cleaning until you could get another job? There’s no shame in cleaning, muffin. Your nan was a cleaner her whole life.”
“I wasn’t ashamed. I just wanted to prove to you I could take care of myself and follow in Mum’s footsteps and make you proud.” My voice cracks on that last bit.
Lorraine puts an arm around me, rubbing her hand up and down my spine. “Oh, honey. Your dad’s already proud of you for just being the kind, caring and lovely person who you are. You have nothing to prove, sweetheart.” She waves her mug towards Dad. “Tell her, Colin.”
“It’s true, muffin. I don’t care if you never step foot back in London again, as long as you’re happy. What you’ve achieved at art college while taking care of me after your mother passed makes me the proudest father in the world.” He places his brandy on the mantle and rises from the chair, taking the few steps to sit on the sofa next to me.
“I don’t want to go back there. I hated it. The only thing I liked was that I got to sit and look at the paintings while the place was empty.”
“That’s why they fired you, isn’t it?” His smile reaches his eyes, the few coloured lights on the tree shining on his face.
“Yes, I was on CCTV.” A laugh bursts from my lips. For the first time, I’m able to see the funny side after carrying this secret all week.
“Honey, I wish you’d have told us. We would have come and got you.”
“That’s what Sawyer said.” My thoughts drift to Sawyer out there alone and I hope he’s okay and found somewhere to stay.
“So you told Sawyer all this?” Dad asks.
I nod and take a sip of my hot chocolate now that it’s cooled a little. “He wanted me to tell you. Said he would keep my secret, but after the holidays when you returned from Scotland, I had to tell you the truth.”
Dad scratches his beard as if in deep thought.
“Sawyer took care of me. We’ve been stuck here together during the snowstorm and—” I take another drink as if it’s Dutch courage. “And I love him, Dad. We love each other. Doesn’t Sawyer deserve to be happy, too?”
He rises from the sofa, takes the few steps to the mantle, and lifts his glass of brandy while he gazes at Blitzen on the wall. “Sawyer’s my oldest friend. I know his track record with women?—”
I jump from the sofa, ready to defend his name. I only know what I feel and I know in my heart that he’s different with me. “But?—”
Dad raises a hand. “But… I also know how he is with you. The way he dotes on you. You could always wrap him around your little finger. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you, muffin.”
“What are you saying?” I place my hot mug on the mantle.
“I’m saying maybe I was too hasty when I kicked him out. I felt betrayed by the two of you with all the lies. I’m saying, if you love him, let’s go get him.”
My heart swells in my chest like a balloon ready to burst at any minute. I throw my arms around Dad. “You mean it?”
“Anything for my little girl.”
“I’m not a little girl anymore, Dad.”
“You’ll always be my little girl, even when you’re forty.”