by S. E. Rose
“Hey, Mal, join us for a drink?” I ask.
“Uh, sorry, I’m meeting a friend.” I see her scan the pub quickly, catching a young woman’s eye in the corner and waving to her. The woman waves back. “But feel free to stop by our table later if you want.”
“Sure thing,” I say smiling. She gives a nod toward Oliver and he returns it and then she takes a lager from the bartender and makes her way across the pub.
“You know Mal?” I ask.
“Yes,” he answers. He’s quiet for a moment and then says, “Small place, Stonehaven.”
“So I’ve been told,” I say. We chat for a bit more and I promise to visit him at his home and then I go to sit with Mal and her friend Lucy. Lucy manages an office supply shop a few streets over and she is a local as well, although she grew up in a small town just west of Aberdeen. She has a thick accent and I have to pay attention closely to understand her. We have a few funny misunderstandings, which has all three of us in stitches. After another drink, I bid them a good night and I head home.
The next few days fly by and I’m back to my writing. Every morning, I wait to feel Jack approaching me as I meditate, but I never do. After two more days, I break down and send a text.
Laura: I’m back. Lily is fine. Call me. We should talk.
I set my phone next to my laptop and wait and wait. Nothing. That night I decide to go over to Jack’s house. Maybe he is back, but just doesn’t want to talk. I have a deep desire to see him even though I know I should just let this go. I can’t stop myself. I tell myself I need to explain things and end it on a better note. Yes, a better note, that’s right. Who am I kidding? I have fallen head over heels for this man.
I pull up to the gate and see it’s open. I pull in and am about to turn into the gatehouse when another car comes in behind me. It pulls up next to me and I see Oliver. He rolls down the window of his Jaguar.
“Hello,” he greets me. He nods towards Jack’s place. “He’s still gone.” He pauses. “You should come up to the house. I’m having some excellent local seafood made tonight. I hate to dine alone. I just dropped my daughter off with her mum.”
“Sure,” I answer, trying to mask my disappointment. “Why not?”
I follow his car down the drive for a bit. There are very old and beautiful trees lining the drive and the forest is thick on either side of them. After a quarter mile, we pop out into a clearing and I look up at an enormous English manor house. It’s easily 30,000 square feet. It’s made of stone and has massive wooden front doors. It looks to be at least two hundred years old. Oliver pulls his car around the drive and gets out, handing his keys to a man who has come out of the front door and the man takes his keys and then gets in the car and drive it away.
“So, your family does well in the farming business then?” I nod at his palatial home.
He grins and it reminds me of Jack, making my heart sink. “Well, I guess to be fair, I should have explained that our family has been in the ‘farming’ business for a few hundred years. Come on, let’s get you a drink.”
I follow him through one of the giant doors and we are inside an enormous three-story entryway. There is marble and stone and dark, carved wood everywhere. I even see a full knight suit in a hallway past the giant, curved staircase leading upstairs. There is an absolutely enormous chandelier hanging in the center of the room, and when I look up, I can see the curving staircase continues to spiral up at least two more floors. I suck in my breath. This is crazy. This is “lifestyles of the rich and famous” shit. How did Jack not tell me this? I’m hurt and confused and mystified by my surroundings, but now I am beginning to understand why Jack has such a nice car and such expensive clothes for a property manager. I’m remembering what Mal said about my cottage being part of the Ross estate. I begin to feel very foolish.
Oliver sees my confusion. “My father was a baron. I guess technically that makes Jack one too, but he renounced it.” I look at him quizzically. “Long story, Jack should tell you, not me.”
“So, that means it falls to you, right?”
“Sort of,” he half answers. “Although that isn’t what my plans were. But here I am. Life’s funny that way.” He gestures towards some doors and I follow him.
He leads me into a giant dining room; I mean giant like two times the size of my townhouse. The ceilings are nearly two stories tall and there are amazing original pieces of artwork flanking each wall. The ceiling is ornately carved and the floor has matching patterns. It is the essence of rich and opulent. He shows me to a chair and pulls it out while I sit. He takes a seat at the head of the table so we are close, but not side by side. I hear a door open and an older woman in a maid uniform ushers in two more women who set platters of food on the table. The older woman brings a bottle of wine over and shows it to Oliver. He nods and insists on pouring it himself. She steps back, a little look of surprise on her face. He nods and she and the other women quickly file back into what I presume is the kitchen.
“Wine?” he asks as he pours it not waiting for my response.
“Sure,” I say. “So you haven’t heard from Jack then?”
“No,” he replies a bit curtly.
“Do you know where he stays in London?” I pry. “I really should make amends. My behavior was terrible when I left. I was just so worried about my daughter. I wasn’t thinking.” I stop and realize, I’m uncomfortable talking about Jack with Oliver. “I just should apologize,” I say, trying to cover up my embarrassment.
“He has an apartment in Kensington,” he says. “I imagine he is there.” Quickly changing the topic, he asks about my book and how it’s going. We talk for at least an hour through a delectable dinner and then he ushers me into a very formal parlor for a nightcap.
“So I thought you went to law school?” I blurt out as we sit on chairs next to each other.
“I did,” he says. “I had only been a barrister for a few years when my father took ill and things happened and, well, here I am.”
“Oh, right, baron duties beckon,” I say, as he clearly has Jack’s same “don’t ask me about my past” mentality.
“You are younger, right?” I ask.
“Yes,” he says. I frown, as all my understanding of British estate law flies out of my head.
“So, Jack didn’t want to run things?” I ask, knowing full well that what he said he’d studied would have fit perfectly with running the estate.
“Things happened, and Jack wasn’t able to and so I stepped in,” he says, quietly sipping his scotch. “You really should ask Jack. It’s his story more than it is mine.”
I nod, still confused, but afraid to pry further. We drink in semi-silence and then I down the rest of my drink and stand. He quickly stands as well. Clearly, years of practicing formal social etiquette has paid off.
“I really should be going,” I say.
“Right, of course,” he replies. He takes my arm and leads me to the front entrance before walking me to my car. He gives me a brief hug and a slow kiss on my cheek and then helps me into my car. He waits while I drive off into the night. I see him standing at the front entrance and then he gets smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror.
Over the next two days, I try to dive into my work, but my mind keeps drifting to Jack. I see Oliver all the time for some reason. He stops by the house with flowers from his garden, making sure everything is OK at the cottage. I find out that he is friends with Nigel, the real estate guy for my cottage. Then I see him the next day at the pub again. He’s eating with Nigel and they invite me over to join them. I am finding his company enjoyable. However, every time I look at him, all I see is Jack. I find myself becoming more confused and more disappointed with every encounter.
I finally get up the courage to ask about Jack again when he pops in with some homemade bread that his kitchen staff has made. I pull out some wine and cheese and we sit out on the patio talking. I allow him to chat about polo, his days at some posh boarding school, law school, and so on before I get up
the courage to ask about Jack.
“So,” I start. “Any word from Jack?”
“No,” he answers, frowning slightly.
“Do you ever pop in to check on him in London?” I pry.
“Well, one time I did, but no, not recently,” he admits. “He’s only been gone about two weeks, Laura. He’s an adult and I’m sure he’s fine.”
I nod, but suddenly I have a deep urge to know more. What am I missing? What are they not telling me?
“So why does he go to London?”
Oliver sighs. “I honestly don’t want to know. He just goes from time to time and…,” he trails off for a moment clearly deep in thought. “Let’s just leave it at that, OK?” He gives me a meager smile.
“Sorry, I don’t mean to pry. I guess it just seems a bit odd to me and I’m trying to figure it out is all,” I say apologetically.
Oliver rubs his temple. “Jack has a bit of a dark past I’m afraid and I had hoped that was left behind, but I often question whether his past is still in his past. I love my brother, really, I do.” He pauses. “It’s hard. I can only help him if he is ready to accept my help and I’m not sure he is. I’m not sure he can conquer his demons on his own. I think he wants to protect me from his world or maybe he doesn’t want to admit he’s still part of that world. I don’t know…,” he trails off again, sipping his wine and looking out at the North Sea.
This is the first time I’ve seen the normally prim and proper Oliver open up and there is something rather endearing about it. I reach out and put my hand on his and squeeze it.
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what happened in his past, but I can see that it has had far-reaching effects on even you.”
He pats my hand with his other hand and when I go to take my hand away he turns his hand and grabs onto mind, holding it for a bit longer, his eyes searching mine.
“Thank you,” he says, squeezing my hand back before finally allowing me to remove it from his grasp.
He abruptly changes topics. “Tell me about your family.”
I talk a bit about Sean and then focus the rest of my thoughts on my children. I show him photos of the twins and talk about their interests and things we’ve done as a family. He shares a bit about his daughter, Rose. She’s named for his grandmother who died a few years before his father. The pressures of taking over the family estate caused a rift with his wife and they’ve been separated ever since. His daughter is at a boarding school and visits them on occasion. We laugh about various parenting mishaps and mistakes. He regales me with some funny single dad stories and I, in turn, share my single parenting horror stories. We both laugh over stories of homework snafus and bad teacher interactions. He’s polite and considerate, draping his jacket over me when I shiver from the cold sea breeze. We spend a whole afternoon sharing a bottle of wine and talking.
“I’ve had a lovely afternoon,” he says, smiling warmly at me as he reaches for my door. He turns then and before I can think he’s wrapped his arms around me and his lips gently brush mine. I’m a bit of a deer in the headlights for a moment. I don’t know what to do. I still have feelings for Jack and now Oliver. Oliver senses my hesitation and pulls back.
“Sorry,” he mumbles in a very non-Oliver manner.
“No, it’s just…” I realize that I don’t know what to say. I do like Oliver and maybe there is something there, but I can’t shake Jack from my mind.
“Jack,” he finishes my thought as though reading my mind.
“Sort of,” I say. “Before I left, we were spending a fair amount of time together and then I just packed up in two minutes flat and split on him. I feel as though things are unfinished and I need to explain myself to him, I guess.”
“No, I understand,” he says, giving me a reassuring smile that I can tell is meant to make me feel less bad about pulling back from him.
“I do really enjoy spending time with you, Oliver. And maybe there is something here between us. I just…I guess I just need some time if I’m not going to get any resolution with Jack,” I breathe in deeply.
“Take all the time you need, Laura,” he says, pulling me close for a hug. “I’m certainly not going anywhere.”
I smile into his chest. “Thank you, Oliver.”
He lets go of me and starts toward his car, but not before I chase him down. “I hope you’ll still spend time with me,” I say, putting a hand on his arm.
“Sure,” he says, trying to muster a smile. “I’d like that.”
“Good,” I say. “Maybe dinner on Friday?” I ask and he nods before getting in his car and heading off toward his estate.
I walk back to my bedroom and pick up my phone and stare at it, willing Jack to text me. “Where are you, Jack?” I think to myself. I decide to send another text.
Laura: Jack- it’s me. We really need to talk. Please call me.
I pause, my finger hesitating to hit the send button but, eventually, I say fuck it and hit send. I go to my computer and force myself to type for an hour before emailing my publicist and then FaceTiming with my kids. Lily seems better and is back to work. She complains about make-up work. Nick is his usual happy self. My kids are literally like a cat and a dog in their temperament. I smile internally as Nick yammers on about how great his summer classes are and he thinks he finally figured out some stuff in his calculus class. They are much-needed distractions. When I close my laptop down, I sit smiling for a long minute at the photo of us on my computer before pushing the lid closed.
I look out the window at the North Sea and breathe in the salty air blowing through the other window which I have open. I can smell rain in the air and I decide to go to bed early.
Chapter 15
Laura’s Playlist: “Politik” by Coldplay
The next morning there is a fine mist of rain outside. I debate whether to postpone my walk and meditation until later, but when I lean out the door I decide to go. The rain is so light it is almost like walking through a thick fog. I make it to my rock in record time considering the wet ground and I lay my travel yoga towel down on the wet rock and sit. I stay here for a while trying to push all my thoughts from my head, which considering the events of the last few weeks is fairly difficult. Eventually, I give up and stand to jump off the rock, but my foot starts to slip out from under me. I over-correct leaning forward and then I’m falling. I land hard, my foot rolling and my ankle giving way, and then my head hits the rock before I’m on my butt on the wet ground. Crap! I touch my head and wince. Double crap! I look down and my ankle is already looking swollen and red. Triple crap! I manage to pull myself back up, leaning on my good leg and I grab my yoga mat. I hobble a bit down the path before I find a stick off the side of the trail and I bend down with some difficulty to get it. I use it to support myself as I stumble back to the cottage.
By the time I reach the cottage, my ankle is beginning to get colorful and my head really hurts. There’s a good egg on the side of my forehead and my eyes well as I touch it. Well, my neurologist is going to love this, I think to myself. I look in the mirror. Well, it’s official. I am a disaster. I can’t drive myself to the hospital, that’s for sure, I think as I look at my head.
I try Oliver first. He doesn’t answer. I try Mal next. She picks up on the second ring.
“Hello there!” she says cheerfully. “It’s too early for a drink call.”
“Hey, Mal,” I say suddenly feeling very stupid. “Uhhhh…sooo…I kind of fell and I think I need to go to a doctor, but I bumped my head pretty hard and I don’t think I can drive. And I either sprained or broke my ankle,” I finish looking down at my now significantly swollen ankle.
“Oh dear!” she exclaims. “No worries, love, I can be there in twenty, OK?”
“Thanks, Mal!” I say, feeling relieved.
I grab some frozen peas and put them on my ankle and sit down next to Hagrid. Sure to her word, Mal arrives twenty-two minutes later and whisks me off to the local hospital. On the way there, my phone starts buzzing. I look down and see i
t’s Oliver.
“Hey,” I answer.
“What can I do for you, lovely lady?” he says.
“Well, you missed your chance to be a knight in shining armor.” I laugh. “My friend Mal is taking me to the ER.”
I see Mal looking at me quizzically, clearly curious as to whom I’m speaking with, but she stays quiet.
“Oh?” he says after a brief pause. “What’s wrong? Are you OK? I can leave now and meet you there.”
“No, no. I’m fine, really,” I say. “I just fell off a rock and twisted my ankle and hit my head, typical clumsy me.”
“Well, keep me posted then,” he says. “And really anything at all, please ring me, alright?”
“Sure thing,” I reply. “I’d better go because we are almost here.”
“Right,” he says and we hang up.
“Oliver,” I explain to Mal. I see a look on her face, but she just nods and pulls into the ER parking lot.
I get admitted and we sit waiting for a doctor after getting X-rays taken. I now have ice on my ankle and another ice pack on my forehead. I’m forced to explain that I have a metal plate in my head because of a former head injury. I see Mal’s face change when I tell the doctor this and when he leaves the room, Mal lets out a big breath of air.
“You were in an accident?” she asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say equally softly, not sure if I want to relive that memory again.
“A bad one?”
“Yes.” I pause, but decide to continue my thought. “My husband was killed,” I murmur, playing with a loose thread on the blanket a nurse has brought to me.
“I’m sorry,” she says quietly. After a moment, she looks up at me with tears in her eyes. “I was in an accident too. Just after my daughter was born. My best friend was killed.”
“Oh, Mal,” I say, reaching for her hand and holding it. “I’m sorry too.”
She closes her eyes and lets out another deep breath. “I was in a coma for two weeks.”
