Chapter 35
Rae had never been as terrified as she was the day of her father’s surgery, muscles locked tight as she sat in the waiting room with Myra.
She remembered doing this once before during his first bowel resection, when she’d been so young that Gran had led her down to the hospital cafeteria, treating her to a fudge chocolate brownie to take her mind off things.
It hadn’t worked then, just as Myra’s forced small talk didn’t work now.
Her phone vibrated, cutting through Myra’s tales about Harper and Fraser’s honeymoon in Italy. She considered ignoring it until she saw the caller ID. Struan. She needed to hear his voice. Had needed it since the minute he’d left, but now more than ever.
She excused herself, heading around the corner into a wide hallway, where she could hide among the potted ferns.
‘Hi,’ was about as much as she could force out when she answered.
His voice was just as strained. ‘I know I’m not supposed to be calling, but a text didn’t feel like enough.’
‘It’s okay. I’m glad you did.’
‘Have you had any news yet?’
She shook her head, forgetting he couldn’t see her.
She wished he could. Wished she was locked away in the cupboard in his arms, where she’d felt safe.
The knowledge that it would never happen again sliced through her.
Her fifteen-minute crying rule was no longer being upheld at all on account of all the uncontrollable tears she’d shed recently, and she hated how fragile she felt now, unable to keep her emotions at bay when once they’d been tucked perfectly into a box labelled Later.
‘No, but he’s only been in for an hour. The surgeon was nice.’
‘Good. Martha’s with you?’
‘No. Myra.’ Things with Martha were too uncomfortable.
Rae could tell Martha was trying to brush their conversation under the carpet, at least while Rae’s dad was in hospital, just as Rae was pretending that closing the door on her relationship with Struan hadn’t devastated her.
She’d been prepared for the sacrifice, but not the hurt that came after.
‘If you need me, you know I’ll come,’ Struan said gently.
‘I know. I’m okay, I promise.’ She closed her eyes, pressing her phone closer to her ear and imagining it was his chest. ‘Thank you.’
‘Of course.’
She could hear the noise of the city crackling in the background: car horns, engines, chatter.
It was a comfort to imagine him standing on a street in Glasgow, doing the thing he was good at, being the capable leader he was supposed to be.
A reminder that, while her world had been reduced to the blue, speckled walls of the hospital, it wouldn’t be forever.
As long as she could hear his voice, she could believe everything might turn out okay, even if not with them.
‘I… I told Martha,’ she blurted. ‘Things are weird now, but I think it’s going to be okay eventually. Not with you and me. She isn’t okay with that. But we’ll get past it and go back to the way we were before. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends, does it?’
His pause was excruciating, every crackle of static scurrying over her spine like the claws of a wild creature.
‘Struan,’ she begged, because she couldn’t stay in this silence. Not today.
‘If that’s what you need, sweetheart. I’ll take what I can get.’
She needed so much more. In fact, her throat was clogging with all the things she needed. She chewed on her pinkie, squeezing her eyes closed.
‘Green is my favourite colour, by the way. For the wee friendship bracelet.’ The mirth in his voice cracked, the pain beneath pouring through.
She regretted ever picking up the call. If she’d known it would only hurt in the end, she wasn’t sure she would have ever kissed him that first time in the orchard.
‘I have to go,’ she decided, wiping her runny nose on her sleeve. ‘Good luck with the course.’
‘Rae…’ Her name scraped his throat like grit, like she was ruining him. Maybe it would be better if they didn’t talk at all. Easier. Having to filter herself with him made her realise just how open they’d been before. How willingly they’d let one another in.
Because it had come naturally, and this didn’t. Shutting him out went against every instinct she had. If Martha knew how it felt, she’d never think them wrong for each other again.
But she didn’t, couldn’t, and Rae had promised no more.
‘Bye, Struan.’ She hung up before she could change her mind. She didn’t know if it was because she was here, in a place of sickness, or just the heartache, but she felt so nauseous she had to dash to the bathroom, spending minutes perched on the closed toilet seat lid until it passed.
If this was what love felt like, she was glad she had avoided it until now. He was breaking her open more than anything else ever could, and the worst part was that she had nobody to talk to about it.
Her own fault.
Martha had been right to ask why him, why not anybody else. She’d dug her own grave, choosing somebody who she wouldn’t ever be able to distance herself from completely.
It was good it was over, she convinced herself.
Yet she tasted only bitterness as she returned to the waiting room, fingernails burying into her skin and leaving a sting. Myra took her hand, putting a stop to it. ‘It’s all going to be fine soon, love.’
Rae wasn’t brave enough to believe it anymore.
The ride home swathed Rae in a solace she hadn’t felt for a long time.
Dad was okay. The surgery had gone smoothly, and he was in the recovery ward now, where she’d sat with him and Myra until a tired nurse had ushered them out of the hospital half an hour after their visiting hours were supposed to end.
She’d dropped Myra off at her house in the middle of town before returning to the farm to share the good news with Gran – only, as she turned off the narrow country lane, she found the farm still brimming with people.
Had Martha missed closing time?
Getting out of the car, she caught sight of Cam’s copper head, thrown back as she laughed at something the tall man – Eiley’s partner, Warren, Rae remembered – said. While others strung colourful decorations and lights across the back field, they leaned by the fence, sipping ice water.
Rae glanced around blankly. She had missed something. She just didn’t know what. Why were so many people here? Why were they hanging the fruit-themed bunting she’d bought for the Strawberry Fair in the wrong places?
‘Yoohoo. Earth to Rae!’ Cam called. Rae skulked over, not quite sure if she’d fallen asleep at the wheel and was now in a dream. She dug her car keys into her palm just to be extra sure. It hurt, yet her surroundings didn’t change.
‘How’s your dad?’ Cam asked.
‘He’s okay…’ She glanced between them, from Cam and her sunburnt nose to the chiselled, friendly neighbourhood firefighter, as Warren had introduced himself at the wedding. ‘I’m confused. Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what’s going on?’
Cam smirked, hooking a black platform Doc Marten onto the lower slat of the fence. ‘Loverboy didn’t tell you he’s drafted us all into volunteer duties?’
It had been too long a day for Rae to put the riddle together, brain clouded by exhaustion and residual worry.
It wouldn’t go away completely until Dad came home, and even then, she’d be wary of potential complications.
He, on the other hand, had been in good spirits, which may have had something to do with the pain relief and general anaesthesia.
He’d even named his new stoma bag, Simon.
Luckily, Martha appeared from the storage shed, hands grubby and loose blue dungarees covered in paint. ‘You’re back!’ She forced Rae into a suffocating hug, not needing to ask about Dad: Rae had texted her updates through the day.
In her periphery, Rae noticed Cam shift uncomfortably and felt doubly perplexed by her presence. She hadn’t seen the two of them in the same vicinity in a decade, the last time they’d spoken ending in tears and raised voices that Rae had been powerless to shield one another from.
‘Not to alarm you,’ she whispered to Martha, ‘but I think I’ve fallen into a parallel universe. Either that, or somebody drugged me at the hospital.’
Martha chuckled as she pulled away, fluffing up her feathery fringe. ‘Yeah, it’s been a weird day. They all just appeared after you left this morning.’
‘Like I said: Loverboy.’ Cam waggled her brows until she saw Martha’s glower. ‘Sorry. I forgot we’re not calling him that.’
‘Struan mentioned that you might need some extra hands for the Strawberry Fair this weekend,’ Warren explained finally, crossing his arms over his chest. He was almost as tall as Struan, and twice as broad, muscles spilling out of his plain white T-shirt.
Lucky Eiley had been Rae’s first thought upon meeting him, though she’d take a bit of softness over rock hard abs any day.
At the sound of his name, that gut-wrenching ache flared again.
It hadn’t left since their phone call earlier, just waiting for the right time to make itself known.
She shouldn’t have been so focused on him at a time like this, and yet somehow she had enough room in her heart to worry about her dad and grieve the loss of the inexplicable connection she felt with Struan.
Which was why this made no sense. ‘He asked you all to come here?’
‘He’s loves playing hero,’ Martha remarked.
Rae didn’t know what to say, head spinning.
She hadn’t wanted to ask for help, at least not beyond the people closest to her, and he’d known that.
But as she looked out, the people bustling around, building stalls, began to take shape.
Colin, Graeme, Dot. Almost every business owner she’d invited was here.
And Struan had organised all of it. For her.
She must have been tearing up again, because Martha frowned. ‘Rae? You okay?’
‘I just didn’t expect this.’