Chapter SEVEN
Lou
NOW
I know it’s juvenile and somewhat ridiculous, but after the unexpected encounter with Ben Heaney outside under a flurry of snow and the glow of a street light at dusk, I run back inside and find myself in my tiny storeroom, where I shut the door, lean against the wall, close my eyes and remind myself to breathe.
But my breath catches in my throat. I cover my mouth for fear of letting out a loud and uncontrollable gasp. My hands are trembling as old feelings threaten to choke me. Memories swirl around my head, filling me full of regret and nostalgia.
‘The red amaryllis used to be my favourite, but I love the white ones more now,’
I hear his little girl say from the other side of the door.
‘It looks like a trumpet, but it represents strength and beauty and determination. My grandma told me that.’
‘Well, I had no idea. What a clever young girl you are,’
Nana Molly replies.
‘As the saying goes, every day is a school day.’
I had no idea of that either. What I do know is that it’s going to take me more than a few minutes of hiding in a poky storeroom to get over the shock of my life.
The years have been kind to Ben Heaney.
Too kind, almost. The chiselled jawline is still there. The wavy hair, damp from the light snowfall, the piercing green eyes and the striking presence that never failed to make my legs buckle and my heart soar.
I hear the doorbell ring, announcing what I assume is his arrival into my shop. Oh God, this is insane.
‘What I’d give to have had those beautiful auburn locks back in my day,’
Nana Molly coos to his daughter. I decide to count to ten, then I’ll step out. No, twenty, actually. No, there’s no point denying it, I’m going to need to allow myself another few minutes before I leave my little cocoon of safety to face the music.
‘How old are you, Ava?’
Nana Molly asks.
‘I’m twelve,’
Ben’s daughter replies.
‘I was twelve in October.’
Ava …
What a beautiful name. I wonder did Ben choose it or was it his late wife’s favourite? I wonder does he still love the name Rose, which we’d once playfully decided we’d call our own baby girl after the white rose he picked for me one day from his father’s garden? I wonder did they know Ava would be a girl, or did they let their first baby’s gender be a surprise like John and I did? I wonder did they decorate the nursery together, making it perfect for their precious firstborn? I wonder did they plan to have any more children?
Most of all I wonder how he is coping without his wife and Ava’s mother. Her name was Stephanie. She was only thirty-five years old.
‘Lou? Lou, darling, you have customers?’
Nana Molly threatens to blow my cover before my personally designated minutes are up.
‘I’ll be right there, Nan!’
I call as quietly as I can.
‘I’m – I’m looking for some red velvet ribbon. I know it’s in here somewhere.’
‘Just there’s a very handsome customer waiting to be served,’
Nana calls in to me with the subtlety of a sledgehammer. I thank God that my own mother has gone to the hairdresser’s to her usual Friday appointment. I dread to think of how she’d react to the prodigal son’s return.
‘Can’t you see to him?’
I say through gritted teeth when she steps it up a gear by opening the storeroom door, almost revealing where I am. I peep out to notice how Ben is taking in his entire surroundings, running his hand along the woodwork of the coffee bar, gazing at the small chalkboard where I’ve written out my modest offering of hot drinks.
He touches one of the small square tables I painted with such care. He admires some Christmas wreaths I spent hours and hours making at home with silk blue ribbon, fresh holly and shiny red baubles. My shop was only intended to be a florist’s to bring together my passion for people and colour, but with a few mismatching small round tables by the window, a basic coffee machine, a wooden bar decorated with blackboards, local honeys and jams, and a selection of traybakes and treats, it has quickly become a hub of activity. With plenty of craic and gossip, I’m told it was just what the village needed.
‘I thought you might like to serve him,’
Nana whispers.
‘He’s quite a dish. Look!’
I signal for her to join me in the storeroom and pull the door slightly closed behind her.
‘Nana, that’s Ben Heaney and the little girl is his daughter.’
‘Ben Heaney? Is it?’
she asks, her neck craning.
‘Are you sure? I don’t remember him being so handsome. But then again, his uncle and father were always fine-looking men too. Pity they didn’t have the personality to go with it.’
I hold back from telling her how I definitely do remember.
‘Nana, please keep it all very cool,’
I beg her, but it’s too late. She’s gone.
‘Ben Heaney!’
she exclaims at the top of her voice, walking back on to the shop floor. Oh, how I wish I could disappear.
‘I don’t believe it! My goodness, what a lovely surprise to have you pop by!’
So much for my grandmother’s nonchalance towards the Heaneys. She’s practically salivating at the sight of him, much to my despair. I blow out a long breath, do my best to fix the strands of hair that have fallen around my face, and fish a lipstick from my apron pocket, giving my lips an extra layer of red, which has always been an instant mood-lifter.
I close my eyes and say a quick prayer, then tentatively make my way into the shop where the man I never stopped loving stands only a few feet away.
My gut instinct told me this day would one day come. I often prayed it would, and I’ve played this scene out in my head so many times over the years. Would it be when out shopping one day in a busy town that we’d find ourselves in the same place at the same time? Would it be in a strange city, or in a local park, or maybe we’d see each other somewhere that meant something to us both? But I’d never, ever dreamed they’d bring back the event that had brought us together in the first place, here in our home village.
When I’d finish daydreaming about seeing him in real life again, I’d wrestle with my feelings, doing my best to convince myself that my love for him would subside one day. I’ve kept it all to myself, because after all, who would believe that someone could still hold your heart more than two decades later? No one would.
To my friends and family, Ben Heaney is simply an old flame from yesteryear, if even that. He is someone I used to know, the son of a family I worked with during the summers when I was a schoolgirl. To them he’s only a closed chapter of my life story, to be looked back on with a faint smile and a fond but faded memory.
But they don’t know the secrets of our Christmases past. They don’t know the heartache or the pain we both went through when saying goodbye one bitter, cold Christmas Eve.
They don’t know the truth.
‘Mrs Molly Cooke,’
Ben says to my grandmother, who curtsies before him when he says her full name. My chest pulls tight. I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut when I hear his voice again.
‘It’s been a long time, but I remember meeting you in The Taphouse many moons ago. You were singing the song “Peggy Gordon” by the fire in all your glory. I must say, you’re as alluring now as you were back then.’
She puts her hand to her chest and lets out a sigh.
‘Ah, how kind. You know, that’s still my party piece, Ben,’
she replies, gazing up at him. I only wish I’d your sharp memory, but I’ll take that compliment, thank you very much.’
His shoulders look so inviting, so strong. His posture is confident, yet there’s deep pain in the way his voice shakes when he speaks. Maybe he is as taken aback as I am? I don’t think he knows I’m standing here yet, which helps me gather a little composure.
‘I was just having a very enlightening conversation with your daughter about amaryllis,’
Nana continues, her voice dropping down a few notches at last.
‘Isn’t she wonderful. I’m sure her precious mama would be very proud of her.’
Nana looks like she might cry for them both, but Ava isn’t within earshot now, thank goodness. She has made her way to the far end of the florist’s, intrigued it seems by the festive miniature train set I took with me from New York, just like most children who visit this place are, no matter their age.
I do my best not to stare in her direction, but my first thought on seeing Ava is how I’d love to give her a hug and tell her everything is going to be OK. I was only a few years older than she is now when I lost my dad suddenly, and although I appreciate that everyone’s grief is different, I do understand how it can have extra bite at certain times of the year.
‘Hello, Lou,’
Ben says gently.
My heart stops for a split second when I hear him say my name.
‘Hi, Ben,’
I reply, meeting his eyes slowly while doing my best to keep breathing.
‘I’m sorry about just now. I ran back inside because I—’
‘It’s OK,’
he says.
‘No need to explain.’
His voice to me is as soothing as it ever was.
‘Thank you.’
‘I would apologise for taking you by surprise out there, but I’d absolutely no idea you were back home. Believe me, I’m a bit shaken too. The last person I expected to see in this village is you.’
‘Lou has been back here for a whole six months now,’
Nana chimes in.
‘This is …’
Ben continues.
‘I’m a bit lost for words. Lou, you look wonderful.’
The little coffee corner of my shop is now empty after a busy day, thank goodness. I’m also thankful that Nana has the sense to make her way across the shop floor to talk more flowers with Ava. I know I’ll be quizzed intensively about this later, but that’s the least of my worries.
Apart from the joy of bringing up Gracie and loving every single part of her childhood and teenage years in America, it’s almost like the past twenty years of my life hadn’t existed.
Physically, Ben hasn’t changed that much, apart from perhaps how his hair is greying a little at the temples. His eyes are intense and observant, yet full of life experiences I know nothing about.
I have so many questions I don’t know where to start.
‘Your daughter is beautiful,’
I whisper, feeling my voice tremble. Tears sting my eyes, even though I had promised myself for years that if our paths ever did cross again, I wouldn’t be emotional.
‘How is she?’
He licks his lips and brightens up at the mention of Ava. We both glance in her direction, where she is talking ten to the dozen about roses now.
‘She’s very excited to be back here,’
he says.
‘I’d forgotten how this place gets under your skin. I fear it may have already had an impact on my daughter too. I might have a battle on my hands to get her to come home.’
I feel that old familiar pull, like a magnetic force between us. I see a familiar hunger in his eyes and all I want to do is touch him or hold him tight. His broad shoulders taper into a trim waist beneath his black woollen coat that lies open to reveal a fine beige jumper. As always, his style is timeless, refined and classy. I want to stand closer to him, but he isn’t mine any more.
I’m not sure if he ever really was.
‘I feel the same about being back home, even though I sometimes question my decision to come back for good,’
I reply.
‘It’s my first Christmas here in a very long time. I’m excited for it too.’
He beams, but his eyes tell a different story.
‘I hope it all works out for you,’
he tells me.
‘Me too.’
My mind goes blank, and I feel his has also. We don’t know each other any more. We are simply strangers with a bank of old memories, with nothing more to say. I had this all so well rehearsed, but now that we’re under the same roof again for the first time in forever, it’s like my mind has been erased and only a wave of deep sadness is left.
But then he whispers.
‘It’s so, so good to see you, Lou.’
He bites his lip.
‘I’ve thought about this moment many, many times since we said goodbye.’
‘So have I,’
I reply immediately.
Suddenly I’ve so much to say, like my brain has finally caught up with my tongue, but Ava and Nana Molly come waltzing back in our direction, armed with flowers and looking very pleased with themselves, just in time to burst our bubble.
I wish my heart rate would slow down, or that I could press pause on what’s going on around us so I can say what I want to say.
But I can’t do that in front of an audience.
‘I’ve chosen a bouquet of amaryllis for Grandma, Dad,’
says Ava.
‘Red ones even though I prefer white, and Nana Molly thinks Uncle Eric might like a holly wreath for the front door of Ballyheaney House. She says it will be right up his street.’
I marvel at how most children who meet my grandmother are invited to call her Nana Molly, just like back in the day when everyone referred to Ben’s Uncle Eric as so.
‘Very well chosen, Mrs Cooke,’
says Ben, more than impressed.
‘My wonderful uncle has always had a love for holly at this time of year, but he doesn’t have the energy to gather it from the gardens the way he used to. He’ll be delighted with this.’
‘I sometimes think my grandmother has a sixth sense,’
I say.
‘Ava, it’s so nice to meet you. My name’s Lou and I’m an old friend of your dad’s.’
Ben’s eyes catch mine as the phrase brings back an old memory. Neither of us can resist a smile.
‘You’re very pretty,’
Ava tells me. Now that she’s closer, I can see her beautiful heart-shaped face and her haunting brown eyes, which are a duplicate of her mother’s, if my memory serves me right.
I’d never met Stephanie Robinson Heaney, but my mother couldn’t wait to send me a photo of their wedding when it made the newspaper.
‘She’s a doctor from Castlebar in Mayo, if you don’t mind,’
she told me over the phone after sending me the press clipping by email.
‘Apparently, they met on a train when travelling across Europe! How romantic! I’d say that dress cost the price of a small car! She reminds me of the actor in Pretty Woman. What’s her name again?’
I had to dig deep to find any sign of happiness for Ben within me, while resisting the urge to be physically sick on my own behalf.
How did we get it so wrong?
‘I like your red headscarf,’
Ava continues.
‘My teacher wears one of those too sometimes. We think she fancies Dad.’
Ben throws his eyes up to the heavens.
‘Well, that’s very kind of you to say so,’
I tell Ben’s very charming little girl, doing my best to appear calm like this is an everyday occurrence and not like I’m looking at a life I once thought was mine.
‘Are you looking forward to Christmas in Ballyheaney House?’
She glances up at her dad as if she is gauging his reaction first. Ben gives her a nod of approval.
‘Sometimes it’s not much fun where we are,’
she says, scrunching up her nose.
‘I’m going to bake cookies with my grandma this weekend. Then, when Cordelia gets back from Spain, we’ll do karaoke and I’m going to help organise the big Christmas Eve party.’
Ben’s eyes meet mine again for a fleeting second. We exchange a wry smile which makes me want to stop the clock again.
I’d give a million to know what’s going on in his mind right now. And by the same token, I’d give a million to make sure he can never know what’s going on inside my own head. I’m so far down memory lane, I’m not sure how I’m going to make my way back.
‘How about I wrap these beautiful flowers up?’
Nana Molly says, coming to the rescue.
‘I’ve a little something for you behind the counter, Ava. Did I hear you say you like cookies? And we still need to rustle up those hot chocolates.’
Ava takes the bait and follows Nana over to the coffee dock. Neither Mum nor I thought she’d ever enjoy helping at Buds and Beans at her time of life, but every day she does, I see her enjoy it even more, especially on a day like today when we have customers like Ben and Ava Heaney unexpectedly arrive just before closing time.
‘So …’
I say to Ben, not knowing where I’m going next.
My mind is in a flurry as I wonder if he thinks I’ve changed much, or does he only see me in the very same way he used to, like I do him? I run my fingers through my hair then pat down my green apron. Ben’s head is dipped but his eyes are fixated on mine.
‘So,’
he replies.
A heavy sense of longing for the past lingers in the air. I wonder if we could both turn back time would we do things any differently? But then I wouldn’t have my darling Gracie and he wouldn’t have little Ava.
‘It’s so nice to see you again, Lou,’
he tells me.
‘You look … you look like I’ve always remembered you. Which is very, very fondly.’
It’s like he just read my mind. It’s like some things never change.
A wave of grief both drains and exhausts me at the thought of another goodbye. A chill runs through me, yet I feel suddenly flushed. Is this it? Is the moment I’ve been dreaming of forever over already?
‘Now that I can breathe again,’
I say, hoping to lift the weight of tension that hangs in the air.
‘I can say it’s been nice to see you again too, Ben. I hope you and Ava have the most wonderful Christmas and that all your preparations go smoothly for the big event on Christmas Eve.’
He swallows hard. He looks quickly at Ava, then back at me.
‘Maybe you’ll be there?’
he asks me.
He holds my gaze.
If my heart could possibly break any more, I fear it may have just shattered into a thousand little pieces.
I shake my head.
‘That would be too … that would be way too hard,’
I say, choking on every syllable.
‘I hope you’re doing OK, Ben. I hope you and Ava are doing the best you can. I’m sorry.’
He rolls back his shoulders, clasps his hands together tightly and nods repeatedly like he too is trying to find the words.
‘We are good,’
he replies.
‘We are really good, mostly. Thank you for asking.’
‘I should go.’
He laughs.
We both laugh. Oh, this is like turning back the clock. It’s a blend of cruelty and sheer joy rolled into one.
‘I think you mean I should go?’
he says, tilting his head in the direction of the door.
‘I only ever wished the best for you. I hope you know that.’
I really do want him to go now. I’m not sure I can hold my real tears back for much longer.
‘What do I owe you?’
he asks Nana Molly, then makes his way towards the counter.
A.
‘Silent Night’
plays on my carefully selected festive playlist, I lift a bucket of twigs I plan on spraying with silver paint only to give my hands something to do.
‘Isn’t it crazy,’
I hear Nana Molly say to herself not long after Ava and Ben have said their repeated thanks and goodbyes to the sound of the bell above the door.
‘how some old wounds are as fresh as the day they were opened. Life is strange. Wonderful and strange.’
I lean up against the storeroom door, pausing to hear if she has any more words of wisdom to share, if only to herself. And then it dawns on me.
Nana Molly has no clue what happened between Ben and me all those years ago. She paid absolutely no attention to my friendship with him back in the day. In fact, she avoided any mention of him almost deliberately, it sometimes seemed.
So what old wounds might she be talking about? Yes, life is very strange indeed.