by K. Shandwick
“I had no idea that Shona existed as part of the team nor what had happened to her until our plane landed in Dubai, but as soon as I was informed, I asked to meet with Maggie. Obviously, she was very angry and initially refused, but eventually she kindly agreed to hear me out. Did I spend time with her? Of course. Maggie was grieving alone, thousands of miles from home and I felt duty bound to support her. Let’s hope none of you ever find yourselves in her shoes and have to endure what she has had too this past few days.”
“Is it true you stayed the night in her room?” A short, balding reporter interjected. I shot him a glare then continued as if he hadn’t spoken.
“Naturally, I wanted to know about Shona, the girl employed by me, who died before I ever met her. And, I suppose I also felt a strong sense of responsibility to ensure Maggie was taken care of in a strange country. A mutual trust built between us in a very short time and as such Maggie felt more like a friend instead of someone I was doing my duty by. It was because of this I sat beside her during the flight home. When the plane landed, Maggie went her way, and I went mine. There is no other story here except for the tragic death of a young woman.
"Wouldn’t you rather sit beside someone who’s aware of what you are going through at a time like that, given the length of the journey and the circumstances?”
Even though Flick had said no questions, another reporter, a female with a strong southern accent interrupted.
“Hi, Noah, Alison Digby, PR Celebrity Magazine. Excuse me, but given your reputation we’re supposed to believe you suddenly developed a conscience?”
My temper went from naught to a hundred in a heartbeat but because I thought Andrea may see the statement, I held myself in check.
“So I have a reputation? I’m a performer in a rock band. That’s a bit like reading fiction… not everything you see or read is true. Haven’t you worked that out yet? And you choose to believe what you’ve read in the media… the same media that has had to print a retraction of the lies they posted already? Do you all really think you know who I am? If you think I am capable of what they reported why are you even here watching me refute the story the Aussies put out?”
The reporter clutched her microphone a little tighter, the tension showing by the way her fingertips went white.
“Drag my personal life through the gutter all you want. I accept it as an occupational hazard of what I do. Cultivating fame will always cultivate criticism. Fine, do your worst, but don’t target the people we come into contact with and create collateral damage for the sake of making a libelous sensationalist snippet for your respective magazine or newspaper at their expense. I urge you to consider the people you pull into those stories who often have no choice about being thrust into the limelight. They don’t have a platform of denial like I have. And in this case if you have any sense of decorum left since journalism school you’ll leave the Dashwood family alone to grieve in peace.”
“We hear you’re picking up the tab for Shona’s funeral costs.”
I scowled because my plea had appeared to have no impact on another younger reporter, who didn’t look old enough to be doing the job.
“Naturally, she was employed as one of our crew. In all the time Fr8Load have been an entity we’ve had two deaths by natural causes and paid for theirs as well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a private life to be getting on with. The tour finished a couple of days ago and I was looking forward to a quiet spell before these lies were printed. I know this is an impossible task, but I’ll say it anyhow. Let’s not do this again, shall we?”
The reporters continued to fire questions, some general about the band and a few levied at my lack of contact with Rudi. I ignored them as Eamon held them back as I climbed into the waiting SUV. The first thing I did was try to call Maggie back to tell her I’d held the conference, but her cell went straight to voicemail.
“Hi Maggie, I just want to let you know I’ve set the record straight in a news conference. My legal team has contacted the social media platforms to have all them remove the posts now that the legal team have been on it. I’m going to sue the publishers of the article on your behalf and ensure a retraction is issued with your name on it.” I fell silent for a moment because I wanted to know she was okay and felt hurt to have been put in this position with her.
“Obviously, I’ll be staying away from the funeral, but I’d really like to meet up with you as soon after it as you feel is appropriate. All right, I hope you are okay, and Molly is holding up. You have my number. I hope to hear from you soon, honey. Take care.”
Three weeks passed with no contact from Maggie and although Annalise went to the funeral and brought me up to speed afterward, I still felt a connection to Maggie. I don’t know why, but I had expected her to at least acknowledge the fact I’d fought for the truth with the press.
It was weird how she’d unexpectedly pop into my mind with increasing regularity. I found myself wondering how life had settled down for her and Molly. One morning I couldn’t stop thinking about them and decided to try to call her again. She picked up at the fourth ring, right before I thought her voicemail was going to kick in.
“Hey, Maggie. Thanks for taking my call. I’ve been thinking about you and I hope you don’t mind me calling. I wanted to know how you’re doing and if you need anything.”
“No, I’m glad you called. I want to apologize for the way—” she started in a soft tone.
“You have nothing to be sorry for. I should never have put you in that position,” I replied, cutting across her apology.
Maggie gave me a sigh of relief, “Thank you for not being mad at me. I wasn’t my usual rational self with everything that was going on.”
I decided to move the conversation forward. “How is Molly doing?”
“Life hasn’t been easy for her. She asked if she could die then she could visit with Shona.”
My heart ached to hear that. “Tough. Even tougher on you when you are the one faced with all the questions. Kids are so innocent, and they have difficulty in understanding a concept like death.”
“Loneliness is the hardest part. You know… doing this alone. My Principal has given me compassionate leave, which will take me through to the summer break. I’m fortunate that I work at a private school because I would have struggled to get three days if I worked for the State.”
“I’ve got a lot of time on my hands. Would you be up to a visit from me?”
“Here?” She sounded freaked out by the idea.
“Or you could come here if you preferred?”
Silence stretched between us until she eventually said, “No offence but I don’t think visiting your home would be the best idea based on what was reported after you came to my room in Dubai. Did you ever get to the bottom of that?”
“I read a bunch of legal papers they sent me. Apparently, it was a member of the cabin crew who spun the story. I was rude to her during the first leg of the journey home and I remember what she looks like. She saw the paperwork about Shona and saw us leaving the hotel in Dubai for the airport together. She happened to be hitching a lift back to New York with her airline on the same plane as us and saw the opportunity to get back at me. She took and sent the picture to a male friend who worked for the paper in Sydney. He then did some snooping in Australia and at the hotel in Dubai about Shona’s death, got info from the receptionist about us meeting and ran the story.”
“Jesus. That’s insane.”
“No, that’s normal for my life. I should have protected you better.”
“If it has any worth, I believe you about the guy who assaulted you, Noah.”
“It’s the truth, but thank you. What made your mind up about that?”
“You. The way you are. You’re nothing like that shit-for-brains rock star image they’ve molded for you.”
I laughed, “Thanks. Wish the judge had seen past the lies that kid spewed out in court. I may have been able to have a life with my son now if it weren’t for him.”
“Truth,” she agreed. “Yes.”
“What?”
“I’d like a visit, but I need to know you’re not bringing the media with you.”
“Would tomorrow night be good?”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I visit with my family on Thursdays. It's common knowledge and the media find the routine of it dull as dishwater. Maybe I could have a car bring you over there. They have a pretty private spread inside a wall of dense woodland and it’s not accessible once you’re inside the gates.”
“And you’re sure no one goes there? Won’t your parents mind? Your family?”
“They love visitors. My dad doesn’t get around much after an accident he had while felling trees, so he enjoys having new people around. I’ve visited there for the past nine years like clockwork when I’m home and the last picture they took of me there was around five years ago. They know there’s nothing to see.”
“Then Molly and I would love to come.”
“Great. I’ll have a car pick you—”
“No. I’ll get someone I know to drive me. Text me the address.”
I was about to argue then thought better of it. If Maggie was going to meet with me, it would have to be on her terms after what she went through with the media. We concluded the call and my chest felt lighter. She appeared to have that effect on me whenever there was any contact between us.
It was dark by the time Eamon pulled off the road and headed down the old dirt track to my parents’ house. I was still an hour earlier than usual, but I had wanted to make sure I left the way clear for Maggie. I figured if by some remote chance there was someone lurking and I was already inside, they’d leave knowing I always stayed overnight.
Mom was excited because it had been years since I’d brought a female home—high school in fact—but when I explained I was only taking her there for privacy a light went out in her eyes. Nothing would have given her more pleasure than to see me settled after watching me sink to the depths I had after the restraining order was placed on me against seeing Rudi.
When Maggie texted me five minutes out from the turn off to our place, Eamon went down to the gates to ensure she made it smoothly inside the property. Oddly, when I saw her text, my heartbeat accelerated like it hadn’t in a while and I realized I was really excited to see her.
Chapter Eleven
Noah
“Are we in the enchanted forest, Aunt Maggie?” The sweetest little voice asked.
“No, Molly.” Maggie chuckled. “We’re just having dinner at a friend’s place.”
“Does he live in the woods?”
I stepped out to where they could see me and smiled warmly at Maggie. My heart sped up when I saw her, and I glanced down at the cutest little girl with waist length blonde hair. I crouched down in front of her. “Hey, I’m your Aunt Maggie’s friend, Noah, and no, I don’t. But my parents do. Would you like to come with me and meet them?” I said, interrupting before Maggie could respond.
Watching Maggie intently, I saw her cast a glance around the heavy oak paneled walls until her gaze landed on the staircase, then her head turned as she followed the banister upstairs.
“Sorry, I hate to dispel the rags to riches image people expect from musicians. My grandfather was an accountant on Wall Street. This place was his weekend hideaway, hence the name,” I explained.
“It’s incredible—stunning,” she remarked as she continued to look around in appreciation, her head turning this way and that. Molly stood patiently waiting at first, then as if she saw an opportunity she suddenly broke free and did a cartwheel across the floor. Straightening up she threw her hands in the air as if she were competing for gold at the Olympic Games. Maggie’s jaw dropped, and she looked adorably embarrassed.
“Molly! What on Earth’s name do you think you’re doing? We’re guests and you must remember to behave when we’re invited to someone’s home.”
Molly frowned, and she stared at the floor for a second then slowly brought her eyes up to meet mine. “Do you still have a mommy,” she asked in a tiny sad voice.
“I do, sweetheart,” I answered honestly then felt lost for words.
“Mine went to Heaven because God wanted her to be an angel, didn’t he Auntie Maggie?”
Pain flashed across Maggie’s face and I thought how difficult those questions must be for her when she had her own grief to bear.
“Then she must have been very special because God only takes a few young mommies to be angels.” I was concerned at how I had answered in case I’d said the wrong thing. However, I had been brought up to believe death was part of life having lost my grandparents at a young age myself.
“Did you hear that, Aunt Maggie? Noah said God thought my mommy was very special,” she asked with pride in her voice.
“I did, darling—and she was,” Maggie replied. I saw the silent thank you in the look she gave me for giving Molly a positive thought to replace the worry of not seeing her.
“Shall we go to meet my parents?” I asked holding out a hand out for her.
“Are they wrinkly like Mrs. Richie?” I frowned and looked to Maggie for clarity.
“Our elderly neighbor,” Maggie advised me.
“Ah, I haven’t met the famous Mrs. Richie so I’m not sure. Why don’t you come with me and see, then you can tell me?” I replied and chuckled.
Molly slipped her tiny fragile hand into mine and a pang of hurt struck me like a punch to my gut. Her hand would be around the same size as Rudi’s. It was almost unbearable to keep hold of it.
My gaze fell to our hands and a lump unexpectedly grew in my throat. I’d never missed Rudi more than I had at that moment.
As if Maggie sensed I was struggling, she distracted me. “Can I use the restroom first?” Guiding her to the bathroom I stood outside and waited patiently for her to come back.
“Do you go to school, sunshine?”
Molly stared up at me with bright crystal blue eyes and they looked surprised. “My mommy always called me that.”
It was clear Shona was never far from Molly’s mind and she didn’t answer my question. I wasn’t sure what to say and wondered if I had made a mistake calling her that. Luckily, Maggie came back quickly, and I led them both into the comfortable den my parents had settled in after my siblings and I flew the nest.
My mom was instantly smitten with Molly and Molly with her, then Molly turned to look at me. “Your mom is nowhere nearly as wrinkly as Mrs. Richie.”
Maggie was about to tell her off again, but I shook my head and my mom spoke changing the subject. Within minutes Molly had tagged along behind my mom as she went into the kitchen to see what our old housekeeper had made for dinner. When I watched them go, it tugged at my heart and my soul ached for Rudi.
Of my mom’s six sons I was the only one who had given her a grandchild, the others all too wrapped up in their careers to be tied down with kids. When the restraining order was granted they were devastated both for me and for themselves. Mom being mom didn’t let the grass grow under her feet and sought her rights to visitation, so my parents saw Rudi four times a year.
Each time they brought home pictures for me and tried to keep me involved in his life, I died a little inside. Still, It was more than the authorities did by providing me with two measly update letters and two school photographs per year.
Maggie gave me a rueful smile as she watched Molly go and without thinking I reached out and pulled her into my side, kissed her temple, and squeezed her upper arm. I inhaled the scent of her shampoo, it was pears and something floral and her perfume was highly intoxicating.
“She’ll get there. Just keep doing what you’re doing, honey. It’s early days yet,” I offered then realized how spontaneously tactile I was with her. She felt so soft and feminine in my arms and I felt her lean in for a second before she stiffened, like she’d forgotten herself and suddenly realized what had happened.
It made me feel awkward for acting so intimately, especially given the fake
news that had previously caused her so much distress, so I dropped my hands to my sides and wandered around the sofa. “Take a seat, Maggie; my father will be joining us in time for dinner.
When I sat next to her, I wondered if I should have given her more space and sat on the other sofa across from her. I’d never been awkward around women, but with Maggie I felt out of my depth because one minute I felt close to her and the next like I had no idea how to act. Another pause in conversation stretched into silence.
Maggie’s curious eyes scanned the photographs dotted around the occasional tables and on the huge mantel above the fireplace in the room.
My attention was firmly on her because I couldn’t stop looking at her any chance I got. Her beautiful even features, small perfect nose, and full lips, complimented her huge almond shaped, crystal-blue eyes—just like Molly’s—and had me transfixed.
Without sounding biased, she was truly one of the most beautiful looking women I had ever seen. She was wasted hidden from the world as an elementary school teacher. She could have been the face of any business, a model, or promoted something very high end and glamorous with the way she looked.
“What is it?”
“Huh?” I asked as her voice dragged me out of my daydream. I turned to see her watching me intently.
“What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? Nothing, why?” I asked trying to keep an even tone.
“You’re staring?”
Busted.
“Yeah,” I said in a thin voice because my throat was dry. I cleared my throat and tried again, “Sorry, yeah, I was. Busted. Forgive me, Maggie, I can’t help that I find you fascinating to look at. I was only thinking how beautiful you are.” My answer was straight from the heart, but I regretted voicing it when I saw how uncomfortable it had made Maggie feel.
Shifting uncomfortably on the sofa she fiddled with her earing and I could tell she had no idea what to say. I looked away to give her time to recover and felt confused by how unguarded my thoughts were around her.
