Chapter 3 #2
“Well, we can change that; it can’t be too hard these days.
” Charlotte picked up her phone off the counter and brought up social media.
“We will just look him up.” In the blink of an eye, she had his profile pulled up, and she was telling me he was thirty-one years old.
He worked as a lawyer and lived in Havenwood.
“Judging from his pictures, it appears that he is close to his family. He has a little sister that is probably around twenty. He enjoys sports, he is in shape, but I don’t see any pictures from the gym, and that is definitely a plus.
This means his vanity is in check.” She nodded her head in confirmation as she was picking apart his profile.
“Oh, here we go! I was beginning to worry.” Mild relief flooded her face. “He has been single for a little over a year; at least nothing serious. There is a picture of him and a girl—looks like maybe a ski trip. Jos, that picture is from almost two years ago.”
“I never said I was interested.”
“You never said you weren’t. Besides, he was definitely interested.”
I side-eyed my cousin; I didn’t want to discuss this. Was he cute? Yes. Sexy, even? Hell yes, but seriously, I had just met this guy, and it wasn’t under the best circumstances.
“Just let me breathe, Char. I’m not really worried about getting laid at this very moment.”
“Might make you feel better.” She winked and gave me a smirk. We both laughed and continued cleaning up the rest of the kitchen.
* * *
Over the next few days, we tied up quite a few loose ends. Charlotte and I made a trip to the college and emptied our grandfather’s office. We met with his student assistant and the Dean while we were there. They both gave us their condolences and helped us carry his belongings to our vehicle.
My mom and Aunt worked on turning in documentation to banks and companies where he held lines of credit.
There were a few reporters that called to try to get details about the accident, but none of us knew anything and that’s what we told them.
The days were filled with busy work, but things that were also a constant reminder of our loss.
My aunt and mother went through the house and claimed things that held precious memories for them. Photo albums, knick-knacks, a clock, some old quilts, even the coffee cup that my grandfather used every morning.
My mom held it in her hands and hugged it to her chest. Tears started to stream down her face.
I was witnessing the moment that she finally broke.
She looked like a child, scared and alone.
She was parentless now, and we both knew it.
In this moment, I valued her existence more than I could convey.
I set down the bottle of water I held in my hand and wrapped my arms around her and squeezed, pulling her as close as I could.
“I love you, Mom.” I loosened my grip so that I could look at her. “I am still here; you are not alone.”
“I love you too, babe.”
She pulled me back in. I didn’t expect it when she started to shake in my arms. It took me a few seconds before I realized that she was sobbing.
I held her tighter and rubbed her back. We stood there like that for a long while.
I wanted her to take as much time as she needed to let it out.
This wouldn’t be the first or last time that the grief overtook her—of that I was certain.
In some ways, not knowing my father was a blessing; I would never have to mourn his death.
There weren’t many silver linings to that cloud, but I would take them where I could get them.
When my mom regained her composure and wiped her face, she pulled a few sheets of paper towels from the roll and wrapped the cup up. She wanted to make sure it wouldn’t get broken in the box of mementos she was adding it to.
“Thank you for being my comfort.” Her eyes were still rimmed red when she looked at me.
I realized that I, too, was crying. “You are my mother, and I will be here whenever you need me. These are my precious memories; these are what I will have to comfort me when I am where you are now. I love you; I cherish every memory I have of you, because you are all I have. Especially now, that Grandpa is gone.”
“I’m so sorry that you don’t know your father. It was never really an option. He isn’t someone I should have had a child with, but I will never regret it. You are the one thing that I know I did perfectly in my life.”
That night, we all decided that we would visit the pub that we used to go to with him. The fish and chips sounded good, and we were close enough that we had decided to walk. The weather was beautiful outside.
Walking through the door of the Irish pub, the smell of delicious food pleasantly invaded my nose.
The owner recognized us immediately and came over to extend his apologies for our loss.
The staff was on point the entire time we were there.
The food was amazing as always, but for some reason everything tasted just a little better tonight—call it nostalgia.
Thoroughly enjoying the company of my remaining family members, making new memories and laughing until it hurt was the best medicine.
We polished off three pitchers of beer and ate our fill of fried cod and potatoes.
When it was time for us to make our way home, the server informed us that the bill was already taken care of and that she would call us a taxi if we would like.
We politely declined and assured her that we would be walking, as it was only a few blocks away.
We tossed two hundred dollars on the table, knowing that the waitresses split tips with the kitchen.
Outside, the night sky was clear; the stars lit our way where the streetlights didn’t, and we covered the distance to the house pretty quickly.
Walking down the driveway, we reached the house just as the alcohol started to set in, making us drowsy.
Collectively, we all thought sleep sounded like an excellent idea.
The next day, our mothers left to go home.
They lived a couple of hours away, in opposite directions.
After Char and I watched them pull down the drive, we went back inside.
I wandered around the house, just taking in each room.
Each of them held so many memories, and most of those memories included my grandfather.
I came upon his bedroom door, which had been left open.
Other than his clothes that we had already donated, I wanted to leave his bedroom alone.
I pulled the door shut—I wasn’t ready for that.
Nothing that involved feelings; that room and the study would no doubt bring a flood of them.
Charlotte had decided that she would stay for a while, and I was thankful for the company. This house was huge, and I needed some noise other than my own. The silence would be deafening if I was alone right now, especially here.
“You are welcome to stay as long as you like. Hell, move in if you want; I have no issue with whatever you decide. Plus, I would love the company—who better than you?”
She smiled warmly and wrapped her arms around me. “I missed you so much, and we really are more like sisters. I do want to be here. It’s like home, ya know.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I hugged her back.
“I have to talk to my landlord and let him know the plan.” Her voice was filled with excitement.
That night, when I was sitting on the edge of my bed getting ready to go to sleep, my eyes landed on the envelope Caleb gave me that I had set on the nightstand.
I pulled the envelope from the tabletop and stared at my name on the front for a few moments.
He knew he was leaving this house to me.
I slid my finger under the flap of the envelope and broke the seal.
Peeking into the envelope, I saw a small key and a sheet of paper.
I pulled the paper out and unfolded it. Bank of Ireland, Dublin 2.
That’s it. That was all there was. I sat there for a moment before my brain fog lifted enough for me to realize that this had to be the key to a safety deposit box.
This whole thing was strange. Why was he being so cryptic about everything?
If I’m going to travel halfway across the world, then it damn well better be for a good reason.
I put the paper back in the envelope and tucked it into the nightstand drawer.
I could think of a great reason to go to Ireland, and that reason happened to be about six feet tall with red hair and golden eyes who was finally seeing me differently.
Too bad he lived in a totally different country.
I spent more than one summer pining after Ronan.
Following him around, wishing he would see me the same way I saw him.
Then the boys at school started to chase me, and it felt better than being on the other end.
I got noticed; I got attention, and I gave up on Ireland.
I went to sleep with the knowledge that sometime very soon, I was going to be revisiting Ireland for the first time in a long time, and with it, I would be revisiting some of my old feelings toward Ronan.
There was a knock on the door the following morning, and it opened slowly. Char poked her head in. “Are you busy?”
“What’s up?” I asked as I rubbed my eyes and stretched, trying to wake up. She opened the door the rest of the way and entered the room.
“I need to go back to my apartment and get things in order. Feed the cat, get the mail, stuff like that.”
“Are you coming back?” I was hopeful that she was. “I don’t want to imagine being here alone. To have so much room that another person could be here, and I might never know.” I could hear mild panic resonating in my voice.