Soaring (9781311625663)

by Ashley, Kristen

  That was to say it had gone great…until then.

  “Jeez, Pip, can you be cool for once?” Auden snapped, clearly taking her comment as an insult to Mickey’s family’s favorite eatery.

  “I didn’t mean anything,” she snapped back, but I could see the pink hit her cheeks.

  She was embarrassed.

  “Kids—” I started.

  Pippa interrupted me by saying ardently to Mickey, “The burgers really are good. Like…the best I’ve ever eaten.”

  “Glad you like ’em, darlin’,” Mickey said unperturbedly before he lifted his own burger and sank his teeth in, showing he was not offended in the slightest at her comment.

  Pippa gave so there eyes to her brother.

  When his face went hard, I gave him a gentle kick under the table, got his attention and mouthed, “It’s okay. Don’t worry.”

  He drew in breath then looked to Mickey. “Uh…Mickey?”

  Mickey swallowed and looked to him. “Yeah, bud?”

  “I was talking to Joe and, you know, since we both know you’re seeing Mom, we were talking about how cool it was you guys were seeing each other.”

  Hallelujah.

  I didn’t call out my exultation because my son was not done speaking (and for other reasons as well).

  “We were also thinking that maybe, it’s cool if it isn’t okay, but we thought it’d be pretty sweet if we could hang at the firehouse with you one night. Maybe, if you get a call, do a ride along with you.”

  Oh God, no.

  “First, it’s gotta be cool with your mom,” Mickey told him.

  It absolutely was not. Having my guy out on a call was one thing. He was an adult. He was trained. He knew what he was doing.

  He still was in danger.

  Having him and my son near a blazing inferno?

  No way.

  “That’d be okay with me,” I chirped.

  Mickey studied me, his lips twitched, he knew it wasn’t okay with me but he also knew—for me to give my son indication I knew he was growing into a man—it had to be.

  He looked back to Auden. “Then all I gotta do is clear it with the chief, make sure the guys don’t mind, which they won’t, we’ve done it before, and we’ll set it up.”

  “Totally cool,” Auden said like it was. Absolutely.

  “Just sayin’, buddy,” Mickey started, his voice lower to add weight to his words. “We’d dig you hanging around. But we get a call and you do ride along, you gotta do what you’re told and stay clear. You might be there but only to observe. That gonna be okay with you?”

  Auden nodded and he couldn’t quite inject the cool.

  He was excited.

  “Right, then, you want, you can give me your number and when I talk to the chief and clear it with the guys, we’ll plan,” Mickey offered.

  “Okay,” Auden replied.

  My phone chirped.

  My bag was beside me on the nicked, warped, splinters-assured (though I’d never gotten one) picnic table (this being inside the ramshackle building). So I dug my phone out because we were at Tink’s and nothing was rude at Tink’s.

  I glanced at the display and smiled.

  I dropped the phone back in my purse to reply later and looked at my kids.

  “Uncle Lawrie is coming for Thanksgiving,” I announced.

  “Awesome!” Auden said excitedly.

  “So cool, Mom,” Pippa agreed then asked, “Mercer and Hart coming?”

  As the text said, I’ll be there Thanksgiving. Boys with their mom. That was a no.

  “Sorry, honey,” I said as a gentle answer.

  “Bummer,” she muttered.

  “Pip,” Auden snapped again and with that, my attention became acute on them.

  They could bicker. They could also fight.

  But mostly, my son had a lot of patience with his little sister. She was a girl. Now she was a teenage girl. She could be flighty. She was admittedly a little spoiled (my doing, but she was also daddy’s little girl so Conrad had a hand in that too).

  Mostly, she was sweet and kindhearted and her brother knew it.

  This was uncharacteristic and I wondered if he was being the way he was for fear of what Mickey would think of her (when she’d really not said anything that could offend Mickey and further, Mickey was a pretty laidback guy and didn’t give any indication he was easily offended).

  “What now?” she snapped back.

  “I think we’re good with Uncle Lawr,” he chided. “We haven’t seen him in almost a year and a half.”

  “I didn’t say we weren’t good with just him,” she retorted. “It’s just if they all came, we could be us. We could be awesome. And we could show them there’s life after divorce, it isn’t all that bad and eventually everyone could end up happy.”

  My hand darted out and curled around Mickey’s thigh as I stared at my baby girl.

  We could be us. We could be awesome. And we could show them there’s life after divorce, it isn’t all that bad and eventually everyone could end up happy.

  I was about to burst into sloppy tears of joy when Mickey’s hand curled around mine and held it as his thigh.

  That gave me the strength to draw in breath and control the tears.

  But it didn’t stop me from saying, “I love you, baby girl.”

  Olympia’s eyes shot to me, her face went soft, her chin started quivering, then she licked her lips and rolled them together before releasing them to say bashfully, “Love you too, Mom.”

  I smiled at her and turned my smile to my boy. “Since I’m being gushy, I’ll say I love you too.”

  “It okay I don’t look like a dork and get all weepy and say it back?” Auden asked jokingly.

  “Yes, if in your memoirs you share with the world your deep adoration for your mother,” I allowed.

  “Whatever,” he muttered, but he did it grinning at his burger before he picked it up and took a huge bite, this indication of how much he liked it because wrestling weigh-ins were soon and around that time, things got dicey for Auden to maintain the weight he needed.

  Perhaps this was why he was short-tempered with his sister.

  Having experience with Auden and his weigh-ins, I put it down to that.

  Back on good footing with my kids, the rest of the night went great. Even when we got back and the kids talked Mickey into “hanging out awhile” whereupon Pippa took that opportunity to point out we’d all be a lot more comfortable if we had another chair up there. Auden didn’t even rise to the bait. But this could be because we sat comfortably with Auden in what had become my chair, Pippa at one end of the couch, me in the middle, Mickey at the other end.

  Mickey and I even did some minor cuddling and the kids didn’t blink an eye.

  However, with the kids there and the stained glass window in the door, we only got to whisper goodnights and give lip touches rather than make out, which was disappointing.

  That was the only disappointment. The rest was all good. We all had enjoyed it. And Pippa had even asked Mickey back around so she could cook for him.

  A success.

  Which meant more happy for me.

  And by the way he was acting, more importantly, for Mickey.

  * * * * *

  I got the news by text the next day that Mickey had got the go-ahead from everyone for Auden and his friend Joe to hang at the firehouse on Friday night.

  The boys had gladly given up any Friday night activities, including the high school football game, to go hang with the guys of the MFD.

  I had been a wreck until I got a text from Mickey at midnight that said, They’re asleep in bunks. It’s all good, babe.

  I got more the next morning when Auden came home (that was to my home as in our home), full of talk about how he and Joe thought Mickey and the guys were “the bomb” and they couldn’t wait to do it again.

  This “do it again” business did not fill me with glee. Mickey had told me the last major fire they’d been called to before the one at th
e jetty had been during a heat spell that came with a drought that had meant some 4th of July fireworks had taken a house with it, this happening three years before. They’d had many minor incidents, but no major ones.

  I still fretted about my son liking hanging in a firehouse and what that might mean.

  But he was discovering who he was and what he wanted to be. As Mickey told me, he had to have the space to do that and I had to find the strength to let him.

  So I did.

  And anyway, he was doing it with Mickey. He liked him. He respected him. And he wanted to spend time with him.

  So that worked for me.

  * * * * *

  I was wandering through Wayfarer’s not paying a lot of attention to my grocery shopping because I was texting back and forth with Robin about her drinks with Lawrie.

  To her Did you know he asked the ice queen for a divorce?

  I sent, I did know things were coming to a head, and I did this thinking I really needed to phone my brother. I had no idea it had gone that far.

  This got me, He’s staying there, separate bedrooms, looking for a house. He’s close to offering on one.

  Definitely needed to phone my brother.

  I replied, Wow. Things have progressed. But did you guys have fun?

  She returned, Of course. He’s Lawrie. We were out for hours and laughed all night.

  I tried not to be bad and hope all night meant all night and sent, That’s good. So glad.

  That was when she thrilled me by saying, I told him I’d planned on going up to Solvang. Do some wine tasting. The vault is low. He said if I drive up and stop in Santa Barbara after Thanksgiving, he might be able to show me the new house.

  She loved Solvang. There was little not to love. The town was great. The wineries were fabulous.

  But she’d been up there tons of times. She knew what she liked. She could order what she liked and have it shipped. She didn’t have to drive up there.

  This was promising.

  I liked it.

  You should go, I replied.

  I think I will, she returned.

  That was when, wandering down an aisle, leaning on my cart and texting, I heard, “Amy.”

  It was not Mickey, Aisling or Cillian saying it.

  My head snapped up and I saw Boston Stone in the aisle with me.

  I went cold, completely, inside and hopefully he saw it on the outside.

  “Boston.” Ice dripped from his name.

  His eyes narrowed at my tone. Then again, he didn’t look happy before I sent him the ice.

  Then, if it could be believed, he stated, “You are aware that at our ages, teenage antics are no longer appropriate. Say, when a man shows interest in you and phones you, if you don’t share those feelings, instead of ignoring him, you say that directly with him.”

  I stared up at him knowing in that moment that the blow he wanted to land on Mickey was a blow he hoped to land on Mickey that was really directed at me.

  Why were some people such assholes?

  I stared coolly into his eyes. “And you should be aware that when a woman shows little enthusiasm for your calls, has no time for you, and stops answering, that’s her way of saying that she’s not interested. A gentleman would leave it at that without pushing her to doing more, which is always awkward and uncomfortable. But just to say, Boston, we’d had a single date. Frankly, I didn’t owe you anything.”

  “I disagree,” he retorted.

  “You’ve made that clear,” I assured him.

  He looked down the aisle and back to me. “I guess there’s nothing more to say except have a good day.”

  “The same to you.”

  He didn’t mean it.

  I didn’t either.

  He nodded and walked down the aisle.

  I didn’t nod and walked down my aisle thinking that perhaps I should start going to a different grocery store. Wayfarer’s was a gourmet market. I could get things a lot cheaper if I drove to the big supermarket in the next town.

  The problem was, I liked Wayfarer’s and what was the point of being filthy rich if you couldn’t shop at expensive places that you liked?

  When I had the groceries packed in the back and I was in the Rover, I called Mickey and told him what happened.

  I did this hesitantly, thinking he might be mad that Boston confronted me.

  He burst out laughing.

  When I could get a word in he might hear, I asked, “You think it’s funny?”

  “Hilarious,” he confirmed.

  “Well…” I trailed off, not knowing if I liked that or not.

  He heard my hesitation and explained, “Babe, you can stick up for yourself. My heiress is no doormat.”

  I knew I liked that.

  And in hearing it, I thought of that encounter and I thought about how I’d handled it. I didn’t go all Felicia Hathaway polite. I didn’t cower under the confrontation. I didn’t apologize about something I had no reason to apologize for.

  I stuck up for myself.

  I was no doormat.

  This made me happy.

  “I guess it was kinda funny,” I told him.

  “Fuck, I hope that asshole finds a woman. I’ll feel bad for her but once he finds someone to put his dick in regularly, he might let the rest of the hot chick population of Magdalene out of their misery.”

  To that, I giggled.

  And soon after, we rang off.

  I drove home in my Rover doing it not a doormat.

  I had a firefighter boyfriend and I could cope with the danger of his job (outwardly, inwardly was my business). I had a position as a volunteer in a nursing home where part of the role was losing people I’d come to care about, this being regularly and without warning. And I had two kids that I’d forced to become estranged who were back with me, one bragging about how we were happy after all that had happened.

  I was not a doormat.

  I was not an heiress.

  I was not a doctor’s wife.

  I was me.

  Amy.

  And the best part about that?

  I was pretty awesome.

  * * * * *

  “Erm…what?” I asked Mickey.

  We were in his bedroom the evening of the Boston Stone incident. It was Thursday. He had his kids back.

  And he’d just told me that Aisling had told him that she wanted me to go shopping to decorate her room.

  The twist was that she wanted me to do this with her and Rhiannon.

  And the twist to that was, Rhiannon had agreed.

  So far, it had been a good week in a variety of ways. One of which was the discovery that Aisling was now showering regularly.

  This was positive but not exactly surprising. Rhiannon had phoned Mickey and told him they’d had not one but three chats. The first one was reportedly dramatic, much like experienced by Mickey. The second one was surly.

  Rhiannon didn’t give up and the third one was beneficial.

  Apparently, Aisling wasn’t adjusting to high school very well. There were some girls she didn’t like, who she never really liked, but it was difficult to avoid them like she used to do as unfortunately they shared a number of classes. Classes that, also unfortunately, Aisling’s friends didn’t share so she had no one “at her back.”

  According to Ash, “it wasn’t that big of a deal” and that “they just don’t get me, I’m not into the same crap as they are.”

  Rhiannon then cottoned on to the fact that they were possibly picking on her and pointed out that she should give them less to pick on, in other words, having a shower and taking care of herself better.

  She also asked if she and Mickey needed to contact the school.

  Aisling had flatly refused this and before any headway that was gained could be lost, Rhiannon backed down. However, she asked for Mickey to keep an eye out when he got the kids back just to make sure that Aisling was still improving.

  It seemed she was. She not only showered, she also helped me with dinner. S
he wasn’t back to her quiet but present self, but it was something.

  Mickey was relieved. Mickey also communicated this to her, taking every opportunity to do that he could, without making it obvious or overbearing.

  He’d also started calling her his “pretty girl” or his “gorgeous girl,” things he used to say but he said them now still infrequently but with greater regularity.

  These were from her dad, not some cute boy, but it was plain to see she was responding. When he said them, her face would change in a way that was good, not bad. Or she’d hunch her shoulders like she was trying to hold the subtle compliments to her.

  It didn’t hurt that Cillian, as if he sensed all this was happening (when, at his age, I was sure it was flying right over his head), got in on the act. He praised her cooking. And the first time she said she was going to watch TV with us instead of slinking to her room, he’d cried, “All right! What should we make Dad and Amy watch, Ash? I’m totally thinking Arrow.”

  “Someone kill me,” Mickey had murmured, and both his kids had laughed (both of them!).

  We’d watched Arrow. I’d never even heard of it but it was pretty good, even if I wasn’t into superhero kinds of things.

  What was great about it was that Cillian and Aisling kept up a running commentary, catching us up on back stories we could have no idea about.

  And Aisling was almost as into this as Cillian.

  So the efforts of the three adults in Ash’s life were obviously working. It wasn’t a miraculous change but the silence, isolation and gloom seemed to be lifting.

  And now she wanted me to go shopping with her and her mother.

  “She’s not drinking,” Mickey announced rather than repeating the insanity of me shopping with his daughter and ex-wife.

  “I’m sorry?” I whispered.

  “She isn’t drinking.”

  I stared.

  “Ash told me. Not the whole week she had them. Not a drop. And when Rhiannon wasn’t around, Ash looked and there’s no liquor in her house. Not wine, which is what she drinks, but not anything and she keeps other shit there for when she has company.”

  “Oh my God,” I breathed.

  This was incredible.

  “I don’t know,” Mickey stated. “Don’t got my hopes up, don’t want my kids’ up. But she’s spoken to me on the phone and I can tell, in the evenings, when she’s slidin’ toward gone, slurrin’ her words, losing track of the conversation. She’s all there. She hasn’t been all there in ten years. Now, she’s all there.”