Chapter 19
Louise was right. The storm is gone by the morning. The only problem is so is everything else.
The electricity comes back sometime around five a.m. I know this because my bedside light suddenly blinks to life, waking me just when I begin to drift off. Then a neighbor’s house alarm goes off before another one joins it and the dogs start barking. There’s no going back to sleep after that.
A weak version of our Wi-Fi comes back around seven and that’s when I see the news.
The train lines are down.
Still in my pajamas, I rush to the kitchen, where Louise stands barefoot in her jeans and one of Tomasz’s T-shirts, rummaging through the fridge as the radio blares the morning headlines.
“I need to borrow your car,” I announce from the doorway. “And I also need you to drive that car.”
“I have to work today,” she says. “And we don’t have the car. Tomasz was called into the hospital hours ago. They have a staff shortage with the storm.”
“But the train lines are down. And the buses are running a skeleton service because the drivers can’t get in and they’re fully booked anyway and I—”
“Can’t you do it virtually?” she interrupts, sniffing the milk.
“Not here. You know how bad our signal is.”
“Then can’t you ask them to change it? I’m sure they’ll understand if you—”
“Louise,” I interrupt. “I can’t reschedule and I can’t risk cutting out halfway through because of a bad connection. I need to be there. This is the only shot I’ve had in months. I have to show them that I want it.”
She flicks the fridge door closed, thinking. Thinking way too slowly but still thinking.
“Okay,” she says finally. “No car but we cat-sit for Mary down the road. Her husband used to be a taxi driver. If we play nice, he might do us a favor. Can you cry on command?”
“I can for this.”
“Then put on some shoes.”
Five seconds later, I follow her out the door.
The sky is mockingly clear, almost cheerful, but it’s still windy after the storm and there are branches and leaves scattered along our driveaway, evidence of the overnight destruction.
I spy Luke halfway up a ladder next door, repairing tiles on the porch roof.
Susan stands beneath him, holding it steady.
Or pretending to anyway. She immediately lets it go when she sees us, turning with a wave.
“Damn things almost flew away last night,” she calls. “Where are you two off in such a hurry?”
“We need to talk to Paudie,” Louise explains. “Abby’s got a big interview in Dublin today.”
“Oh, Pat mentioned! That’s great news. Luke, did you hear?”
“That’s great,” he echoes, concentrating on the gutter.
“Trains are down,” Louise continues. “We’re going to butter him up for a lift.”
“I didn’t even think of that,” Susan says, her brow furrowing. “When is it?”
“This afternoon,” I say, already walking away and gesturing not so subtly for Louise to do the same. “I’ll need to get going now in case the roads are bad.”
“Maybe Luke could drive you.”
“That’s okay,” I say as Luke glances at me. I am suddenly very aware of my braless, tank top state. “I’m sure Paudie will help us out.”
“But Luke’s—”
“I can’t, Mam,” he interrupts.
“What do you mean you can’t?”
I cast one wistful look toward Paudie’s house as I rejoin Louise by the hedge.
Susan is not impressed. “You heard her just now. She’s got an interview and you’ve got nothing else to do today but help me clean up. You said so yourself.”
“I—”
“ And you can pick up some things in the city for me while you’re there. I’ve got a shirt I want to return. You can do that while you’re waiting and save me the stamp.”
Luke looks like he’s having an aneurism. I can almost see the vein popping out of his forehead. And I have to concur. Right now, the last thing I need is to spend three hours in a car with him.
“Well?” Susan asks sharply. “Did I raise you to be helpful or did I raise you to be sullen?”
They have a stare-off for about five seconds before he starts to climb down the ladder.
Susan whirls back to us with a wide smile. Louise gives me a nudge like I’m six years old thanking someone for a birthday present.
“That would be great,” I say stiffly. “I really appreciate it.”
He nods, jumping the last two rungs.
“There now,” Susan says, throwing her hands in the air. “Finally. Like drawing water from a stone. Abby, dear, you go back inside and get ready and don’t think about it a second more. You’ll want to get on the road straight away in case there’s diversions. He’ll have you in Dublin in no time.”
“Great,” I say. Great.
But with no other option, there’s no choice but to rush back inside and grab what I need.
I had envisioned waking up and taking my time with my makeup and my hair but it’s fine.
If this is my curveball for today, then I’ll deal with it.
I didn’t make it this far in my life without being able to adapt.
Twenty minutes later I bound back down the stairs to find Louise waiting for me in the hall.
“Luke’s outside,” she says, handing me a thermal flask with her charity’s logo on the side. “I made you coffee. Mind the lid. It’s a little wonky. And I put a bit of milk in it, so if you don’t like—”
“A little bit of milk is perfect,” I say.
“Great. Good.” She nods. “Good luck, Abby.”
“Thanks.”
We stare at each other and for a moment I think she’s going to hug me but instead she just nods again and disappears into the kitchen.
Luke’s lounging against the side of his car when I emerge, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“Best of luck, Abby,” Susan calls from her porch, and I turn with a wave as I follow him inside, tossing my travel bag in the back and my purse by my feet.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I joke as I pull the door shut.
Nothing.
Okay then.
I stare forward as he backs out of the drive.
It’s not just Luke who’s uncomfortable. It’s been a while since I’ve worn formal clothing and Jess’s skirt is tight around my waist, stretching across my thighs.
I pull subtly at the waistband, thinking about my notes folded neatly in my purse.
I had planned to read through them one final time on the journey but the thought of taking them out now in front of Luke makes me feel self-conscious.
And then I get mad at myself for feeling that way.
And then I get mad at him for making me feel that way.
“Do you mind if I put some music on?” I ask about five minutes out of the village. Five minutes of utter silence that was driving me insane.
He shrugs.
Well, it’s better than nothing.
I press a button and the local radio station turns on, playing a song I don’t know.
“That’s about as much as I know about cars,” I say, glancing at his stony expression. “I’ve never even had a lesson. Well, that’s not true. Dad started giving me lessons. But they lasted about three minutes before he’d stop. He wouldn’t even let me into the village.”
Silencio.
Fine.
No. You know what? Not fine.
I turn to him, tugging down my seat belt so I can face him fully.
“Or we can just spend the next two and a half hours not talking?” I ask. “Whatever you want.”
“It’s three hours.”
“He speaks!” I sit back with a huff. “If you hate me that much, you didn’t have to give me a ride.”
“I don’t hate you.”
“Could have fooled me,” I mutter. “Look, any other time I would give this moment to you. I’m the one in the wrong here, I know. But not now. Not this morning. Not today. So please yell at me or snap at me or just talk to me. Don’t sulk. Don’t give me one more thing to worry about.”
He doesn’t respond. In fact, he doesn’t respond for so long I think I’ve provoked him into giving me the silent treatment when he takes a breath. “It’s just…”
“What? Tell me.”
“I don’t understand you!” he exclaims, and he sounds so genuinely confused that I swallow the retort on my tongue.
“I don’t understand any of this. From the moment you got back here, you made it pretty obvious that you’re into me.
But every time I see you since it’s like I have to figure you out all over again.
You have a fiancé but then you don’t. You flirt with me, you kiss me, and you…
” He shakes his head, hands flexing against the steering wheel.
“You say you want to be friends but then you want more. We start more but then you pull away and you won’t say why.
You want me to talk? Fine. I’m asking why.
Am I just a game to you? Some rebound after Tyler?
Because that’s what it feels like. And okay if that’s what you get off on, but I don’t do hot and cold.
That’s not what I’m looking for and I’m not going to fall for it again. ”
“Luke—”
“I’m driving you to Dublin because my mother asked me to,” he says. “That is why I’m doing you a favor but let me be clear. We are not friends. We haven’t been friends since we were eleven and I think the sooner we stop pretending we are, the better. Okay?”
“It’s not a game.”
“Whatever.”
“It’s not, Luke. I’m sorry for lying to you about Tyler. I’m not sorry for flirting with you. I was newly single, I’d lost my job, and I found and still do find you attractive, so yeah, I came on to you.”
“Just forget it.”
“No,” I say, holding a hand up. My coffee swirls dangerously in the cup but I save it just in time. “I told you the truth when I said I thought we could be friends, but I’ll be honest, I found that very hard to do because every time I saw you I got all fizzy inside.”
A strange expression crosses his face. “Fizzy?”
“I did want more,” I continue, starting to babble.
“I thought, hey, the truth is out and I really like this guy and he seems to really like me and maybe there’s something here.
Maybe I can make something good out of this whole mess, and then you’re all I can think about and all I want to think about, to the point where I’m not even applying for jobs some days, but then Beth starts talking and Louise and I are finally getting somewhere and—”
“Beth?”