Chapter 36
Panic engulfed Struan when he was jolted from sleep by the ringing of his phone. For a moment, he had no idea where he was, blinking into the darkness of a room that wasn’t his as instinct had him searching for his clothes, his tools, his first aid kit.
And then the smell of old carpet and clean linen cut through his daze, the view of light-speckled Glasgow just visible between the hotel’s thin yellow curtains.
Which meant it wasn’t the rescue base calling. Couldn’t be, because they knew he was here, unable to respond to emergencies.
He grabbed his phone, fumbling to switch the bedside lamp on at the same time. White noise filled his ears when he saw Martha’s name on the screen beneath the time, two-thirty a.m. He instantly jumped to a dozen different catastrophes. Somebody was sick or injured. Martha. Vik. Mum. Doug. Rae.
His thumb jabbed the answer button, only realising it was a video call when his own distraught expression stared back at him. Then, Martha, limned by the glare of her phone screen. With her eyes bleary and face sombre, he couldn’t be sure if she’d been crying or just asleep.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’ he choked out.
‘Nothing, nothing,’ she was quick to assure. Softly, which wasn’t like her, though he passed it off as an attempt to keep her voice down. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. Well, I did, I suppose, but I didn’t mean to worry you…’
Struan rubbed the crust from his eyes. He couldn’t have been asleep for longer than half an hour, too caught in his usual cycle of miserable late-night thoughts.
Most of them, Rae. How she was feeling now Doug’s surgery was done.
Whether she was thinking about him. Whether she wished all of this could be different.
The sound of her fragile voice over the phone had left him seconds away from packing up and going home, but he knew it would only have made things worse.
‘Jesus, M.’ He sat up, duvet pooling around his bare torso. ‘Why are you calling me at two a.m.?’ He squinted to better make out her background, seeing only silhouetted trees. ‘Where are you?’
‘The orchard. I needed a walk.’
She tilted her phone, displaying the etching of Martha and Rae’s initials in the trunk of the huge oak tree. Even just the sight of that wobbly R made his blood pump faster, and he dug his fingernails into his shoulder in an attempt to distract himself. ‘A walk to the nearest doctor, maybe.’
‘Shut up,’ she replied flatly, the whites of her eyes flashing in what must have been a roll.
‘Don’t call me and then tell me to shut up.’ He feigned annoyance, though concern still niggled too deep for him to really feel it. Martha called him out of the blue all the time, but never in the middle of the night.
The camera shuffled as though she was adjusting her position, and then he could see the grim tension still etched into her face as she settled.
He could sense the truth hanging between them like a brass pendulum, heavy and unavoidable. Was that why she’d called? To yell at him again?
He waited, seconds ticking by on the clock above the TV.
The muffled shuffles of drunken footsteps echoed down the hallway outside, a heavy door banging shut somewhere else in the hotel and causing one of the paintings to rattle on the wall.
With only the echoes for company, he’d never felt quite so alone, even with his sister’s grainy pixels staring back at him.
‘Have you fallen asleep?’ he asked when she said nothing.
‘No.’ She frowned down at him, wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her hoodie. ‘I was just… I was lying awake for a while earlier, thinking about the wedding. Whether Mum would even be there, and how much I wish Dad could be.’
A pang of grief struck him. It had come in waves before: at Martha’s graduation, or the day Struan had signed up to become a Mountain Rescue volunteer.
But Struan had never really stopped to think about just how much of their lives Dad would miss.
He deserved to be there, to see his daughter find happiness.
Struan knew he would have talked some sense into Mum.
Struan wondered what he’d say about him falling in love for the first time. Would he agree that it was wrong, warn him away and to respect Martha’s wishes, or would he try to convince Martha that Struan deserved a happy ending?
‘Aye. He would have been so chuffed for you,’ he whispered, wishing they could have had this conversation in person so he could give her a hug, even if she would have wriggled to be free of it. ‘Imagine all of the shite jokes he would have come up with to win Vik over.’
She snorted. ‘At least we still have you for that.’
He beamed proudly at the fact. It was nice to know he’d inherited even a little piece of Dad’s personality, even if just his humour. ‘I knew you found me funny really. So, I’m giving a speech, aye?’
‘We’ll see.’ A small smile danced on her lips, but quickly fell. ‘I was thinking about how, at Harper’s wedding, she had her dad walk her down the aisle. I won’t get that.’
‘I’m sure Doug will fill in.’ It wasn’t the same, but he was a good bloke, and he’d been a steady presence in Martha’s life since they were kids. ‘If worst comes to worst, there’s always Michael.’
‘Fuck, no.’ She sucked in a deep breath. ‘I want you to do it, Stru.’
Struan’s eyes widened, grip on the phone slipping. Him?
‘You look surprised,’ Martha pointed out before he could reconnect his tongue to his brain.
‘I am,’ he stuttered out.
‘You didn’t consider I might ask?’
‘No.’ He licked his dry lips, trying to comprehend the request. Walking her down the aisle, taking the role that should have been Dad’s…
He wasn’t sure he deserved that honour, especially not now.
Those shoes were too big to fill. Struan wasn’t a man, not really.
He could pretend to be sometimes, but he was just waiting for the world to realise that inside of him lived a grieving, lost, lonely boy who still couldn’t find his place in the world.
When Martha and Vik had kids, he wouldn’t be a role model.
He’d be silly Uncle Struan. He’d make them laugh, but he wouldn’t teach them anything beyond how to start a fire in case they ever got lost on a hike, and that it was okay to drink out-of-date milk if it didn’t smell sour.
‘You’re my brother, Struan. Who else would I ask?’
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
A sadness folded itself into the shadows of Martha’s cheeks as she watched him. ‘I’ve not been fair to you, have I?’
He rubbed his face again, half-convinced he was still asleep. ‘Where is any of this coming from? You’re not dying, are you?’
‘No, I’m not dying.’ She sniffled. ‘I’m just… I’m trying to figure out why my best friend didn’t feel like she could tell me that she’s in love with my brother. And why she can’t talk to me now.’
Struan’s muscles turned to lead at those words, in love.
Rae couldn’t be that. He wouldn’t allow himself to even entertain the idea, because that would mean his feelings were requited, would mean they were apart for no other reason than Martha, would mean he must have tricked Rae into wanting him, somehow.
Because he couldn’t possibly deserve her as he was.
‘I kept telling myself you’re not right for her, that you’ll fuck it up,’ Martha continued.
‘And then today, the volunteers turned up. I thought Rae would freak out, seeing them all helping, but she didn’t.
She was grateful you’d done that for her.
Vik asked me why I assumed the worst in you so often, and I realised I didn’t have an answer.
Not a real one, at least. I’ve just… I’ve always dismissed you.
You’ve always been here for me, taken care of me, accepted me, even when Mum couldn’t.
I know how hard it was for you when Dad died, but I didn’t realise how differently we handled it.
I think maybe I resented the way grief changed you – because it made me colder and probably selfish, but it didn’t for you.
You were still yourself afterwards, just a bit more stoned. ’
He snorted. A bit was an understatement, but he’d tried to keep all of his struggles out of the house for Martha and Mum’s sake.
They’d been so impatient… with him, with each other.
He’d tried to balance them out with his ill-timed humour, and balance himself out by escaping that emotional minefield whenever he had the chance.
‘I think I used it against you,’ she said. ‘I convinced myself that you were unreliable for being in and out of jobs and never settling down, but you’ve always, always been there for me when it mattered – just like you have for Rae.’
Tears dripped off his chin, unexpected and unavoidable.
He’d been fed that version of himself for so long – that he was impulsive and unreliable, a drifter – that he’d believed it about himself, even when he was here, teaching a course that would help save lives.
Part of it was the ADHD, how the diagnosis seemed to have lowered everybody’s expectations of him, and part of it was just the way he handled himself.
He didn’t want anybody to know how deeply he mourned and how isolated he felt, so he presented himself as laidback.
Only Rae had dived beneath his surface, even when she could have listened to Martha and written him off. She’d seen him. She hadn’t asked him to change, hadn’t thrown his choices or his mayhem back in his face.
She’d been the first person to show him that he was good exactly as he was, and now he was hearing it for the first time from his family, and it felt like all those cogs turning rapidly in his brain could finally take a pause.
‘Have you been drinking?’ he couldn’t help but ask as he wiped his damp neck.
She let out a watery laugh. ‘No, I haven’t, although I wish I had. This is awkward and uncomfortable and will never happen again.’
‘Wouldn’t expect it to.’
‘I just want you to be happy,’ she said then. ‘I thought maybe you needed tough love. But Vik gently pointed out that Mum has done the same thing to us, and I never want to be like her. I never want to hurt you that way, either.’
‘I know.’ Martha was persistent because she cared.
It didn’t make it right, and it didn’t heal the wounds she’d unintentionally inflicted every time she’d put him down, but he’d never doubted that her need for control was rooted in her fear of losing it.
Dad passing so suddenly had provided a harsh awakening to the fact that things could go wrong at any time.
People could be taken without warning. It made sense that she wanted to curate the world around her when it could so easily shift on its axis.
He chewed on his bottom lip, daring to meet her gaze through the screen. ‘What does this mean, M? What are you saying?’
‘I’m stepping back. If you and Rae make each other happy, you should be together.’
Hope fluttered like feathered wings in his stomach. ‘Have you spoken to her about this?’
‘Not yet.’ Her own eyes glistened now. ‘I’m scared of things changing if I let this happen. I need you to be a hundred, no, a thousand percent serious about this, Stru.’
‘What about a million?’ She scoffed, but he wasn’t joking. He didn’t know how to prove just how serious he was about Rae. Didn’t know how to explain that, for the first time in his life, he’d found a certainty, a home, and he had no intention of ever letting it go.
‘I don’t intend to fuck this up,’ he vowed.
‘She’s all I want. I know it’s scary. I know she’s your best friend.
I wouldn’t dream of ruining that. I just…
I can’t stop loving her. I don’t want to, either.
Even if you were never okay with it, even if I had to avoid her for all of time, even if it hurt like fuck for the rest of my bloody life, I wouldn’t want to stop.
She’s part of me. The best part of me, probably. ’
‘Well, shite.’ Martha leaned her head back against the tree trunk, whistling through her teeth. ‘You’re down bad.’
He should have been embarrassed, but the burning in his cheeks was sincerity, nothing else. He wasn’t ashamed to love her loudly, especially not if it was the only way to convince Martha he was worthy.
‘Aye, I am.’
‘Good. You should be.’ She rose from the ground, palm covering their etching as she used the trunk for support. ‘If I wasn’t also very in love, I’d be vomiting right now, by the way.’
‘We make quite the pair of heartsick lumps, don’t we?’
‘Hm.’
Fuck, he couldn’t wait to see Rae. He was already dreaming about what he’d say, how he’d say it. How he’d put his hands on her hips and squeeze. How her face would crease with that soft, gorgeous smile, and how she’d taste like berries when he kissed her.
How this time he wouldn’t have to let her go. They could have days, weeks, months, in each other’s arms. Years, even. He’d spend a lifetime memorising her body and her sounds and her touch. He’d look for her in every room and always find her.
He’d marry her, if she let him.
They’d build their own version of a life, on the farm or in the mountains or across restaurants and cities. Whatever she wanted, needed, he’d be there, because all he needed was her.
Finally, Martha broke her silence. ‘It’s going to take me a minute to get used to all this. I’ll try to be normal about it by the time you get home, okay?’ She jabbed a finger at him. ‘Just don’t make me regret this. I mean it.’
‘I won’t.’ He couldn’t keep from beaming as that future finally yawned out in front of him. He wished he was back in Belbarrow now. Spending the next two weeks without her would be torture.
‘And’, Martha continued pointedly, ‘maybe just wait to tell her in person. She has enough on her plate as it is, and I know a lot of it’s my fault. I just want to make it right first and get her through all the chaos.’
‘She’s okay, though?’ He was already rising from the bed like something was tugging him forward, back to her. If she was struggling—
‘She’s fine. Putting on a brave face.’
He knew just how brave that face could be, but also how devastating the inevitable explosion might turn out. He thought of her that night in the cupboard, shuddering and hollow.
‘I’m taking care of her. We all are,’ Martha promised, her feet slapping soil as she walked. Her words didn’t provide nearly enough comfort, part of him still teetering on the edge of a decision. ‘I’ll call you again later this week.’
‘Just tell me if something changes. If she needs me, or something happens with Doug—’
‘I will. Promise.’
He settled back down into the crisp bedsheets.
Rae would be fine, he convinced himself. She always was. She didn’t need him.
It was him who needed her. Always had been.
Likely, always would be.