The Write Escape

by Charish Reid

  “Grand place for it to be,” she said stiffly. “It’s like seeing your father wake up in the morning.”

  “You have no idea,” he muttered. His mind flashed back to Antonia and what she said about his father. As soon as he got back into town, he’d gone to the same pub that he used to get over Lisa. After he walked home, he’d raided the cabinets for any spare alcohol to get to sleep. He closed his eyes. I’ve got to walk to the pub for my car.

  “You’re a bit too young to depend on a bottle to get you through a rough patch.”

  “Antonia already gave me a dressing down,” he said annoyed. “I don’t need it from you too.”

  “What was your fight about?”

  He paused, unsure of how much to tell his mother. “I didn’t fight enough,” he said. “That was the problem.”

  Clare narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure I’m following you, dear.”

  Aiden leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Mam, the long and short of it is that I acted like a coward and I left her at Tully Cross.”

  His mother leaned back in her seat. “Drinking yourself to death over a woman does seem like your style, but I have a feeling you’re leaving something out. I think you’d better get to the long of it.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck and looked from his mother to his niece. He didn’t want to spring the news on either of them. Part of him believed that even speaking to his father was a betrayal to his mother. “A couple days ago, while we were in Clifden, we ran into Liam.”

  Clare’s silver brows knitted in confusion. “What business does Liam have in Clifden?” she asked. “Were Mary Catherine and the boys with him?”

  Aiden shook his head. “We ran into Da.”

  He couldn’t read the expression on his mother’s face. Her head tilted to the side as she thoughtfully stared down at the coffee table separating them. Clare’s eyes slowly closed as she let out a sigh. “How is my husband?” she asked with a sad smile.

  “Bit of the same.”

  She nodded. “I see. And how are you?”

  Aiden couldn’t answer her question without holding his head in his hands and focusing on the rug beneath his feet. “Not good, Mam.”

  “Nana’s husband?” Soircha asked, baffled by the conversation taking place over her head.

  “Yes,” Clare said with pursed lips. “Your da’s father, your grandfather.”

  “What’s he like?” she asked excitedly. “I’ve never met him.”

  “And there’s good reason for that, m’dear,” Clare replied in a dry tone. “No one can ever find him. Goodness, I can’t imagine how upsetting it was for Antonia to be in the middle of that chance meeting. Is that why she’s not talking to you?”

  “Not exactly. It’s a bit more complicated than that,” Aiden said. “I talked to Liam, not before giving him a pop in the mouth.”

  Soircha’s blue eyes grew round behind her glasses. “You punched your own da?”

  Aiden looked down at her amazed expression. “Yes, but it’s not good to use your fists when you can use your words.”

  “Whoa...”

  Aiden glanced back at her and frowned. “Could you be a dear and check on the tea?”

  Soircha rolled her eyes. “It hasn’t whistled.”

  He kept his impatience in check as he spoke. “But it will very soon.”

  She hauled herself off his couch and slouched to the kitchen, muttering under her breath about not being a baby.

  Clare crossed herself and let out another heavy sigh. “Lord help us.”

  “After the incident with Liam, she drove us home,” Aiden explained. “I went back to Clifden to talk to him and I don’t know what I got out of that. When I returned to Antonia, she told me about her job interview back home. Jaysus... I left her, Mam.”

  “She has an interview?”

  Aiden did his best to explain everything he could about the woman whom his mother only met through a phone app. Once Clare had an investment in one of the boys’ lady friends, she became incredibly attentive. When he finished, his mother was sitting on the edge of her seat with worried eyes.

  “Dear god, Aiden. Are you daft?”

  That wasn’t exactly the response he imagined. “Maybe?” he said.

  “Am I to understand that you saw your da and then did exactly what he did to us? Can’t you tell that the girl cares for you? She wanted you to tell her to stay and you ran off in the night?” Clare shot up from her seat and began pacing his living room. “I thought I raised you better than that, young man. My god, you’ve gone mucked it up, haven’t ye?”

  Aiden frowned. He hadn’t heard that kind of anger in his mother’s voice since he failed Statistics at university. She’d raved at him for a full week after grades were released, convinced that she didn’t raise a lazy academic. “I wanted to spare her the trouble, Mam. I loved our time together, but she’s too good of a woman to fool around with my shite.”

  Clare spun on her heel and glared at him. “And did it ever occur to you that she cares enough to see you through your shite? There aren’t very many women like her and when you meet them, you don’t turn tail like a coward.”

  His mother’s words hit him in the gut, knocking him speechless.

  Her expression softened when she saw his face. “Aiden, I was one of those women. When Liam was around, I put up with his long list of ailments because I loved him. You’re nothing like the man, but somehow you got it into your head that you are. Antonia wasn’t going to run away at the sight of a deadbeat like your da.”

  “She doesn’t love me,” he said. “Mam, she’s an American on holiday who has to go back home sometime. Better to cut the rope now rather than delay the inevitable.”

  His mother scoffed as Soircha brought the tea tray from the kitchen and quietly set it on the coffee table. “You’re in love with her, right?” asked the child. His niece settled beside him and helped herself to a biscuit. “This is just like the movies.”

  “This is not something I want to talk about with a twelve-year-old in the room,” Aiden said, ignoring Soircha.

  “From the mouths of babes,” Clare murmured, staring at the child. “She’s right, you know that? You’re in love with the girl and you mucked it up on purpose. I can’t think of a better reason why you’d behave so irresponsibly.”

  “Mam...”

  “Well it’s true. I saw the two of you together in your little boat. She was a delightful girl and you were just as bashful as you were going on your first grade-school date.”

  “I don’t have the time to romance when I’m trying to get tenure,” Aiden said. When he heard himself say the words, even he didn’t believe them.

  “You didn’t have time for romance when you weren’t working toward tenure,” Clare said, sitting down. “If you are to cut a rope, Aiden, it should be the one attached to Liam.”

  God, I hate it when she’s right.

  More often than not, Clare Hannigan was right on the money. This proved to be no different. “What do you love about her?” Soircha asked as she munched on her biscuit.

  Aiden looked down at his niece, who was much more mature than he, and sighed. “So many things, I suppose. I love her sense of humor. She’s good for a craic and she’s very witty. I love her smile and her laugh. She’s smart, sometimes much smarter than I am. Antonia’s infuriating and passionate and...beautiful...” He trailed off when he remembered waking up beside her. She was furiously plugging away on her novel, radiant from the glow of good sleep and a good romp. He wanted to tell her in that moment that he loved her, but something held him back. Even before he knew Liam would blow into their lives, Aiden had been convinced that a relationship with her was too good to be true. No one could ever be that lucky.

  “She sounds lovely,” Soircha said.

  A sharp stab of anguish pierced his heart as he hung his
head in despair. “Christ, what’ve I done?”

  Soircha patted his back. “You can still call her.”

  “You can still call her,” Clare repeated in a softer tone.

  Aiden was a fool. He’d done the very thing that he hated his father for: run away. He ran in the black of night and drove until he came back to his lonely house. “I can’t,” he said.

  “Why not?” Clare said.

  “I don’t have her bleeding phone number, Mam. We lived right next door to one another and I didn’t think to ask her for it.”

  “Oh dear,” his mother said, setting her teacup on the table. “Well then the ball is in her court, isn’t it?”

  Aiden was afraid that his mother was correct again. How could he be so stupid? If he knew Antonia like he thought he did, she was already on her way to the airport in an effort to solidify her future.

  “I might have an idea,” his niece said in a small voice.

  He lifted his head. Soircha wore an impish smile on her face. “You do?”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  When Antonia woke up the next morning, she didn’t feel like writing. The words didn’t come to her as swiftly as she was used to. She wandered the cottage thinking about Aiden instead. She hadn’t purchased her plane ticket the previous night. She held off on it, convinced that she could still salvage her trip. The original plan did not include Aiden. Antonia was here for an entirely different purpose and Aiden’s interruption was a minor distraction.

  As she stood at the kitchen sink, she stared into the meadow past her clothesline and realized that wasn’t true. Aiden wasn’t a minor distraction. He’d showed up like a freight train and she enjoyed his presence. The thought made her tear up. She sniffed and raked the back of her arm over her eyes. She wasn’t going to cry over a man who couldn’t be bothered to be strong enough to tell her how he felt.

  Antonia drew a deep breath and moved away from the kitchen sink. She tried to remember the details of her night with Aiden; it was a blur of tears and raised voices. The things she’d shouted at him replayed in her mind. She couldn’t believe how she spoke to him and chalked it up to her newfound confidence. Once she was able to cuss out Derek, everyone else seemed easy. But she hurled insults at a man who only wanted to talk to her, to hold and kiss her. The things she said were honest, but she shouted them in embarrassment. Antonia had been close to telling Aiden how she really felt about him when she felt him retreat.

  When he’d told her to take the job in Chicago, she was reminded of Derek who always assumed he knew what was best for her. But perhaps some of that was her fault. She was as aimless as Aiden and constantly called upon friends and family to direct her life. She called Octavia for advice on her love life, Eddie for advice on her career, and her mother popped up every once in a while to offer unsolicited advice. The only voice in her head that belonged to her was the one she created for her character, Augusta. Oddly enough, she found herself asking “What would Augusta do?” far less while in Ireland.

  With Aiden, she felt liberated.

  Maybe it was vacation freedom, maybe it was him. While he preached confidence, without practicing it, much of what he said rubbed off on her. Until she met him, she had been faking it to make it. Antonia knew for certain there was something she couldn’t fake with Aiden. The raw passion she felt for him was quite real. Being around him, in his arms, in his bed, were the best physical experiences she’d had in her life. Being with Aiden was like living in hyperbole. He was “the most” in every way she could think of.

  And that’s how Antonia knew she couldn’t leave.

  “Oh god, I’ve made a mistake,” she whispered to an empty cottage. Deep in her heart, she needed to run next door and tell Aiden she loved him. He pushed her away last night, but she wasn’t going out like that. If she were Augusta, she would say the words first, before Bryon could have looked at her with those sad green eyes. Aiden could take it or leave it, but if she left Ireland without saying the words, she’d regret it until she found another man like him. Who knows when that will happen?

  Before she could contemplate becoming an old spinster, Antonia grabbed her keys and ran to Aiden’s cottage. When she got to his door, she was puzzled to see his keys in the lock. A bag of garbage leaned against his stoop. Her heart dropped in her chest. “Oh no...”

  She let herself inside his cottage. “Aiden,” she called out.

  The space was empty. Antonia ran from room to room shouting his name, but his clothes and suitcase were gone. Even the refrigerator was empty. Oh no, oh no... This was the mess she was afraid of. If she hadn’t tap danced around the real issue, she could have said her piece last night. Antonia exited the cottage and ran straight to Mr. Creely’s rental office. She hoped he was there and didn’t believe in customer confidentiality. She needed Aiden’s information as soon as possible. She banged on his door and prayed for a miracle. “Please be home,” she whispered.

  “I’m a’coming, hold on now.” She heard his muffled voice from behind the door.

  “Mr. Creely, it’s Antonia Harper,” she yelled. “I need your help.”

  The old man opened the door, drawing his robe closer to his small frame. “Ms. Harper? What’s wrong?”

  “Aiden left,” she said in a hurried voice. “He’s gone.”

  Creely peered at her. “Well that happens from time to time,” he said easily. “Visitors can leave early, but they have to pay for the full stay.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t understand,” she said. “We had a fight, I said some stupid things. Actually, he said some stupid things too. But I didn’t know he’d leave.”

  In the proper context, Creely nodded. “Nothing a little cake can’t take care of?”

  Antonia tried to ignore his meaning. “No, and I need your help.”

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need you to give me his contact information,” she breathed. “A phone number or something. Anything would be helpful.”

  The old man hesitated for a moment. “I don’t know...”

  “Please,” she begged. “I have to find him and tell him something.”

  “You really like him, huh?” he said with a sly grin.

  She nodded. “I think I do, but I need to talk to him.”

  He gave her a good long look in the eye before shaking his head. “Aye, come inside and I’ll see what I can find for ye.”

  * * *

  “Exit Connemara Loop. Stay in right lane for N59,” Vera’s mechanical voice intoned.

  Antonia carefully switched lanes and let out a breath when the highway widened. She had white-knuckled most of the drive and wanted to get off the road as soon as possible. She swiped at the GPS screen and was relieved to know that the rest of the long stretch would lead straight to Galway. She remembered that Aiden said his neighborhood was in a small township called Claddagh. Hopefully, that wouldn’t involve driving in a busy tourist city. It didn’t matter, though. She was on a mission.

  Her phone rang while she drove. Antonia groaned. That was the last thing she needed to deal with while making these dangerous curves. She pulled it out of her purse and swiped without looking down. “Yeah?”

  “Yes,” her mother corrected.

  Dammit.

  “Hey Mom,” Antonia said putting her on speaker. “I’m in the car.”

  “Your sister shared some information with me,” Diane said. She imagined her mother’s mouth set like Octavia’s, the quiet judgmental pursing of the lips.

  “I’m sure she did,” Antonia replied. “That’s all you guys seem to do these days.”

  “I’m just calling to tell you not to take that fool back.”

  She kept her eyes on the road. “You don’t have to worry about that, Mom. I gave Derek a good cussing out already.”

  “Good. I know I raised you with some self-respect.” Even though she c
ouldn’t help but jab at her daughter, Diane did sound relieved. Perhaps even proud? “And I don’t want you to come back until you’ve found what you were looking for.”

  Antonia didn’t know what to say to that. Her mother didn’t get sentimental with her daughters. Ever. It was foreign to her ears. “What are you talking about, Mom?”

  “I’m just saying.” Diane paused. “Don’t always settle for what’s easier. I didn’t work as hard as I did for you girls to settle for any old thing.”

  It only took thousands of miles of distance for her mother to have a moment with her. She smiled to herself as she drove. “I won’t.”

  “Your sister shared something else.”

  Antonia’s smile dropped as she decreased her speed. “Oh yeah?”

  “She said that you were back to writing. If I remember correctly, it’s been awhile.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that her sister was thoughtful enough to keep information about Aiden to herself. “It has, Mom. I’m writing a novel.” Saying the words aloud to her biggest critic was a relief. “I’m...a writer,” she added.

  “I know you’re a writer,” Diane said with a smart tone. “I just wondered when you’d get back to it. I only wanted to say I’m glad to hear it.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat before replying, “Thank you.”

  “Okay,” Diane was already running out of things to say. “Charlie and I are about to sit down to some coffee, I’ll get at you later.”

  “Of course, Mom.”

  “We’re proud of you for doing the right thing, baby.”

  Antonia drew a shaky breath. She didn’t want to start crying while she was on the phone with her mother. “Thanks, Mama. I love you,” she said with a sniff. “I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Yep, stay safe, baby.”

  She waited until she’d hung up before she started crying. Only Diane Harper, in her own strange confusing way, could say the right thing when she needed it the most. Antonia wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and breathed in deeply. Today, Antonia would not settle.