One day she might take the pendant out and wear it. One day, her emotions might settle to a fond memory of the man she loved beyond life. Not today though.
5
Lost Forever
1980
His arms are around me.
I lean back against his bare chest to listen to the familiar, dear sound of his heartbeat again. We’ve been apart for too long.
A moment apart is too long.
Thomas loves me and we are together. This time nobody will get between us.
The hammock we lay on in the sun swings with a warm breeze off the sea. Back and forth. We’ve been here for hours, days. I don’t remember when we arrived and I don’t want to leave this place. The sun is so nice, so…
It disappears behind a cloud. No, not a cloud. A wave, roaring across the white sand, towering above me. White foam mixed with dark water crashes over me and I am wrenched from Thomas’ arms, dragged over the sand, sucked into the sea.
Now I float beneath the surface, carried this way and that by the tug of the tide. Thomas will find me. He always does and then we will swim to the cool air above.
Like a stone, I sink. I’m on the sand at the bottom of the sea and it is dark.
There is nothing here.
6
Failing to Move On
1980
The night sky was lightening. Sunrise wasn’t far away. Martha slowly extricated herself from the arms holding her. It was time to leave.
In the tiny bathroom, Martha dressed and washed her face. Enrique stirred as she let herself out so she watched as he settled back into sleep. She ran down the flight of stairs to the street, and stopped long enough to draw in the already warm dawn air. The dream followed her along the narrow streets of Lima, troubling her senses.
The humidity was as stifling as the air that night in River’s End. Martha hurried to the edge of the city where almost sheer cliffs dropped to narrow roads and the ocean. The scent fuelled the memories of stormy seas churning. But the sea here washed in calmly.
How do I let this go?
She stood near the edge of the cliff, clutching her handbag and swaying in time with the tide. It soothed her. Reminded her of happier days sitting at the end of the jetty with Thomas, laughing and basking in his love.
Lips curving up, she sighed. He’d been her world. No matter what happened at the end, Thomas remained the one who possessed her heart. She might as well accept it and move on. Yet every time she tried, the dreams would haunt her nights.
With a last look at the sea, Martha turned. Her hotel was not far and she longed for a shower and change of clothes. This was her third visit to Peru and would be her last. Enrique had kept her coming back here. Until now.
Martha waited outside the hotel for the taxi. She still travelled light, her old suitcase replaced by one more modern but surprisingly sturdy. The day was as sticky and humid as she’d expected and the cooler days of Ireland beckoned her home. School would start soon.
The taxi pulled up.
“Martha! Wait.” Enrique sprinted toward her. He carried her light jacket in one hand, something she’d not even noticed missing when she packed. The driver took her suitcase to put in the boot.
“Por favor espero?” she asked the driver and he nodded. No doubt he was used to tourists wanting to stop and admire the scenery of his city.
Enrique grinned widely as he reached her, panting. “You…left…this.”
She took it from him. “You didn’t need to run all this way. But thank you.”
He drew in a long breath. “Martha. I would have kept it safe. For next visit.”
Martha dropped her gaze.
“Is okay. I know there won’t be another.”
Her eyes shot back to his. They’d been friends for a long time after meeting at a nightclub in Los Angeles on one of her school breaks. He’d offered to teach her to cook chili at his restaurant in Peru so she’d visited the following year. And kept returning.
“What do you mean?” Her voice trembled. She hadn’t even fully decided. Who knew where the trade winds would take her next?
Enrique took her hands in his. “Pequeño amor, you always say goodbye. Not leave before dawn without coffee.”
“I…I didn’t wish to wake you so early.”
He lifted her hands and kissed them one at a time, eyes never leaving hers. “Thomas is a lucky man. To have your heart. It is time for you to find him.”
Tears stung Martha’s eyes and she blinked rapidly. He must have heard her call out from her bad dream.
“Or, you could stay.” A flash of sadness crossed his face, then he smiled. “You don’t need to answer, mi amor. Have a safe return.”
“Enrique…”
“Your driver waits. Maybe we meet again. And dance under starlight.” He released her hands.
“I hope so.”
As the taxi drove down the road she watched Enrique until he was out of sight, and then the tears came.
7
Visitors
1982
Halfway up the hill to her cottage, Martha crossed to the ocean side of the road as she did most days. With winter approaching, the otherwise pleasant day was already cooling, and the nights came early. But the sky was clear and deep blue. Far out to sea, light reflected off a ship. A cargo ship. Closer to shore, sailboats dotted the sea.
The breeze picked up and Martha rubbed her bare arms. Time to get home and bring some wood inside. Between the stove and the fireplace, she was continually loading her barrow from the shed up the back. One more glance at the view and she hurried back over the road.
Once the wood was in and stacked, she’d get the stove working and throw some vegetables in a pot to simmer for soup. It’ll cook whilst she marked exam papers. Such a fun part of her job, with cute notes some students added for her. She’d promised the mixed class of students they’d have their results tomorrow.
With a smile, she picked up her pace. As she reached the crest of the hill, she slowed again, puzzled at the car parked outside her gate. Her visitors came on foot, or bicycle as a rule. The car was empty but voices from near her front door drifted over.
“I’m happy to drive you back later.” A male voice she didn’t recognise.
“No, I’ll wait. Sooner or later that school must finish for the day.”
Mother?
The gate squeaked as Martha opened it. Lilian waited near the front door beside a man in his sixties. They looked up and Lilian stepped toward her with a smile. Had she been holding the man’s hand?
“Darling. We thought you’d never get home.” Lilian kissed Martha’s cheek. “They are working you too hard, child. You look so tired.”
“Um, thanks. Hi.” Martha sized up the man. A bit taller than Lilian, which made him not quite Martha’s height, he had a cheery expression and red hair. He offered his hand.
“Seamus Foley, and it is nice to finally meet you, Miss Martha.”
“Just Martha is fine, please.”
She glanced from Seamus to her mother. They exchanged a look and Martha’s stomach tightened. “Please, come in. I’ll make some tea. Or coffee.” Martha unlocked the door and gestured for them to enter.
Inside, Lilian gazed around with her lips pursed.
Stop being so judgemental, Mother!
The cottage might not be as grand as Palmerston House, or large as Mother’s house in town, but it was renovated to create a warm and inviting interior. Thick rugs covered much of the stone floor, a comfortable sofa sat opposite two armchairs, and the scent of flowers filled the room from vases of roses. The kitchen was still old—traditional if one wanted to sound like a realtor, but apart from the stove had modern appliances and was spotless.
“Tea? Or coffee?” Martha filled the kettle. She wasn’t about to let Mother annoy her.
“Oh, tea is fine. Seamus has his white with two sugars. Shall we sit?”
“Of course. Please make yourselves at home and I won’t be long.”
By th
e time Martha carried a tray laden with a teapot, cups and saucers, and some slices of a fruit pie from the fridge, she’d talked herself into staying calm. Whatever brought Mother here, she needed to listen, not react.
Seamus took some pie, but Lilian insisted she was watching her weight. As if she needed to. If anything, Lilian was on the thin side, and when Martha looked more closely, she saw new lines in her mother’s face. What did she expect? Mother was in her sixties now.
For a while, they chatted about Martha’s work at the school, the weather, and politics. Seamus helped himself to more pie and said little, but smiled often at Lilian.
“Anyway, there is a reason for our visit today. Apart from not seeing you for months on end.”
“It was only…well, okay. Sorry.”
“What matters is now. I hope you’ll be as happy as I am when you hear my news.” Lilian glanced at Seamus and reached for his hand. “Our news.”
Stay calm. Breathe.
Lilian continued, her eyes suddenly bright and a smile turning her face young again. “Seamus has asked me to marry him, and I’ve said I would be honoured.”
But…Daddy.
Martha gripped her bottom lip so hard with her teeth it hurt.
“Darling? Please don’t be upset. It means a lot to me.” Never had Lilian’s voice been so pleading, so soft.
“I’m…I’m not, Mother. It just surprised me. Congratulations. To you both.”
“I promise I’ll treat your Mum well.” Seamus leaned forward. “She’ll have a happy life.”
“She had a happy life with Daddy.” Martha jumped up and began collecting cups. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say it that way.” She looked at her mother. “I am pleased for you, Mother, really I am.”
“You don’t sound it!” Lilian got to her feet, her face red. “Patrick passed away more than ten years ago, child. Ten sad, lonely years. And I miss him even now.” Seamus stood and put an arm around her shoulders. “But he’d want me to go on. And I thought you would too.”
“I want you to be happy, Mother. It just never occurred to me you’d find someone else.”
Lilian reached for her handbag. “Just because you refuse to accept the truth about Thomas and live your life to its fullest, doesn’t mean other people can’t.”
Martha gasped and put a hand to her mouth.
“Look at yourself, Martha. Living in this little place alone. Walking to work. No love in your life. Not even bothering to visit your own mother on a regular basis.” Lilian sniffed and stalked to the front door, Seamus hurrying behind her. “I’ll send you an invitation to our wedding of course. Perhaps by then you’ll have got over yourself.”
Heat rushed from Martha’s toes to the top of her head, forcing her into action. As Seamus opened the door, she reached her mother. “Invite Dorothy. Invite your favourite daughter. She might not disappoint you.”
“Oh, ladies, no.” Seamus frowned. “I didn’t mean to make trouble and I think you should both take a breath and say sorry.”
Sorry is the last thing I’ll say!
Lilian’s eyes narrowed and whatever she’d been about to reply was kept to herself. Martha knew her well enough to see the struggle behind the forced smile. It was many years since they’d had words and the old feelings of being the lesser child rose.
“We’ll send you an invitation, Martha. Thank you for your hospitality.” Lilian leaned forward and kissed Martha’s cheek, then walked out.
Martha couldn’t even watch her go. She closed the door, locked it, and leaned back against it to support herself, so hard were her legs shaking. Nothing ever changed with Mother.
8
Too Late to Say Sorry
1983
Both front and back doors of the cottage were wide open. First day of spring meant spring cleaning to Martha and she took it seriously. She’d dragged the small rugs outdoors after dawn, hauling them over the low stone walls around the garden and beating them senseless. The curtains weighed down the clothes line, and now she worked on the window panes.
This was the fifth year she’d done this and as hard work as it was, she knew she’d reach evening and be satisfied with a sparkling home again, ready for the warmer months.
Once the windows were done, she took everything off the mantelpiece to clean it.
“Oh.”
Behind the clock was an envelope with embossed gold writing. Mother and Seamus’ wedding invitation. She’d forgotten it was there and glanced at the card inside. Three weeks until the big day, and the RSVP was tomorrow. Martha put the envelope on the kitchen table and poured a glass of water.
Despite several civil phone conversations with Lilian, Martha had not seen her since their argument last year. Not even for Christmas, even though Lilian invited her over. She’d made excuses about having another commitment, somewhere else to be, yet had spent Christmas Eve and Christmas Day as she always did. Alone in the cottage.
Was Dorothy going to attend? She hadn’t come for Daddy’s funeral so would she be bothered to travel across the globe for a wedding? If she didn’t, then Mother had no family to attend. Martha sighed. She was getting too old to hold onto grudges. Of course she’d be there for Mother.
She dialled Mother’s number but it rang out. Martha hung up the phone and returned to the cleaning. She’d try again tonight.
A glass of sherry was in order after such a productive day. Martha wandered around the cottage as she sipped, as pleased with the result of her labour as she’d known she’d be. The fireplace was ready to be lit, but as the sun set, the cottage was still warm enough to wait a while.
Outside, a car door shut. Martha’s heart raced. If this was Mother, then she needed to be sure she wouldn’t lose her temper again. She left her glass in the kitchen and peered out. It was a police car. How strange. They were several towns away from a police station. Two police officers came through the gate and she met them at the front door.
“Miss Ryan?” The older man nodded as he introduced himself and his partner but Martha didn’t register the names. The expression on his face froze her in place.
“Shall we step indoors? We have some bad news for you.”
She never knew how she ended up sitting on the sofa, the police officer patting her shoulder as tears streamed down her face. His partner emerged from the kitchen with a cup of tea which she took, but couldn’t drink.
“Are…are you sure?” A last grab for a way out of this nightmare.
“Very sure, I’m afraid. Both your mother and Mr Foley were confirmed on the boat. Six souls lost to the sea. Is there someone we can call? A relative, friend?”
It was hours later when Martha managed to dial Australia, her fingers still shaking, her head throbbing. When Dorothy answered, Martha blurted out the terrible news, then burst into tears again. To a stony silence, she explained about a small chartered boat to celebrate the upcoming wedding amongst six friends. A freak wave in unseasonably rough seas.
“You should never have let her on a boat!” Dorothy screamed down the line.
“I didn’t know.”
“This is unbearable. Lost to the sea. Oh, why? Why must this never end?”
“Dorothy, I don’t understand. Will you come to help with the funeral? With the house?”
But Dorothy refused. She was too busy with her business, she said. If everyone would have stayed in Australia, this wouldn’t have happened. And then she hung up.
There’d been no wake for Mother. Hers was the last of the six funerals. Martha attended Seamus’ a day earlier, standing back as she wasn’t his family and had not allowed him to become her friend. He’d been nice, had loved Mother, so one day they would have forged a relationship.
Lilian Ryan was laid to rest alongside Patrick. Unbeknown to Lilian, he’d bought two plots not long after they relocated to Ireland, so here was where Martha felt it was right to bury her mother. She might have moved on in life, but Patrick was the man she’d loved for decades and now death reunited them.
As death will one day reunite me with Thomas.
But Thomas wasn’t dead, and for all Martha knew, he may not ever think about her, let alone want to see her in any afterlife there might be.
I still love you though, and always will.
The drive home was surreal. Perfect spring weather. Children playing outside their houses. People greeting one another in the streets. Mother would never see another day. She’d miss her own wedding. Martha had lost the chance to say sorry, to put things right and support her mother with a happy heart.
She stepped into the cottage and slipped off her shoes. Her mother had been right that day. Martha didn’t live her life to the fullest, despite her travels and occasional relationships. It was too late to think of a husband and children now. But there was a whole world of experiences out there waiting.
Martha opened the cupboard by the back door and took out the box she’d left there for years. She held up the pendant, the T and M entwined. This time she smiled, and then opened the clasp and put the chain around her neck.
9
Friends Forever
1985
Nothing, but nothing Martha had ever experienced prepared her for this. The Lofoten Islands in Norway was the destination she’d expected when she’d planned this remote trip, but here she was, miles further out on a small fishing boat. She did, after all, know its owner, who was inside getting hot mead to warm their hands as much as their stomachs as they closed in on the anchor point.
Aksel.
Martha couldn’t help smiling. They’d met in Ireland in her local pub when he took a year away from work to discover the world. His stories of life in Norway, the endless sea and incredible sky, was enough to send her looking for places to stay. How he’d teased her about what she considered icy conditions when the wind off the Atlantic Ocean shook her cottage.
Martha Page 2
