But then she gives the slightest nod of her head. And I’m floored.
31
“Well, I actually call him Daniel,” Amelia says, and looks away. “I think it suits him better.”
I shake my head in wonder as I ponder the idea of Amelia with Danny Boy. I can’t think of two more different people. Whereas Amelia is educated, thoughtful, and purposeful, Danny Boy is streetwise at best, inconsiderate, and rash. As far as I can tell, she’s spent her life working to create a meaningful career. He’s spent his life living from fix to fix. What could she possibly see in him?
“What? I mean, how? How did you—” I stammer.
“I know, it’s a bit surprising,” she says. “But, it’s not as odd of a match as you might think. Not when you consider the man I got to know.”
I nod dumbly.
“Anyway, I knew after our first session that I’d have to stray from the normal confines of talk therapy with him. He wasn’t a typical client. He needed more provoking to understand his motives. So, I suppose it was with that decision of mine to treat him differently that led me to thinking of him differently, too.”
Again, I nod. I’m not quite sure I follow what she means about treating him in a different manner, but whatever she did seems to have worked wonders. He’s continued to maintain his sobriety, he shows up at the studio every day, and he hasn’t pulled any kind of wild stunt in a long time. That last bit reminds me all too keenly of Conor’s taunt at dinner the other night, when he said Danny Boy was single like Amelia.
“Conor knew Danny Boy was our connection?”
I can see her thinking, though I’m not sure why the answer requires this much contemplation. Finally, she says, “He seems to have figured it out.”
I think of how I betrayed her confidence by telling Conor she had an ex-client who still called her. That was the reason for his odd reaction. He realized it was Danny Boy somehow, or wondered if it could be. Which was why he then went overboard with trying to get her reaction to the idea of setting them up.
“That means, he was being quite cute at dinner, wasn’t he? With him suggesting Danny Boy could be someone you date?”
She shrugs. I seem to be more bothered by it than she does. In fact, she seems serene about the whole thing, perhaps enjoying the freedom of having told me this much. I realize my incredulity hasn’t been the kindest reaction and that I should be a better friend than that. I should be taking the time to absorb what she’s revealed and see what I might be able to do to help.
“What is it that draws you to him?” I ask.
“His humor. His humanity. His, underneath it all, decency. His striving to do better. To be better.”
I smile. Those are wonderful attributes. She really has seen a side of him that I probably haven’t taken the time to try to see. I feel a pang of sadness that she’s denied herself a relationship with him.
“And what keeps you from being with him?”
Amelia takes a deep breath and smiles wearily on the exhale. “Well, there’s the obvious, of course.”
“You mean that you treated him and so it would be inappropriate, if not a career-threatening move? Oh, and also that he’s a recovering addict? And that he goes on tour with a rock band and so will be gone for months at a time?”
“That about sums it up,” she says with a shake of her head.
“And what’s the not-so-obvious?”
She’s quiet for a moment, thinking through what she will say next. “I worry that I will disturb his recovery. He’s still creating routine. He’s still understanding what’s in his control. And to be honest, the last time he had a romantic relationship, it nearly derailed all the progress he had made.”
My eyes widen at this last bit of information. I had no idea Danny Boy had any kind of romantic life.
“I couldn’t bear to be the cause of him losing focus,” Amelia continues.
“But, should you really take that on? Isn’t all that his responsibility? His burden to bear?”
“It is. You’re right.” She pauses. “But, I still couldn’t stand it if I, in any way, contributed to him struggling.”
A chill runs through me as I realize how she’s sacrificed her own chance at happiness to ensure his wellbeing. It’s a grand gesture that he will never really understand. And so romantic, really. It makes me sad for her. And for him. It also makes me want to rush to Conor, to have him hold me, so I can savor all I have.
32
Conor
I’ve told her about Daniel.
I shake my head at Amelia’s text. What does this even mean? I really don’t even care that she and Danny Boy have this weird thing going on. I mean, it does still make me wonder about her issues with professional boundaries and judgment. But my recognition of how much Felicity needs her has outweighed any of those concerns.
I’d gone after her during dinner at our house, wanting to get at just how she justifies this slippery line she seems to walk. She’d held her own, so I pushed it and asked whether she treated friends. Thank God Ella interrupted that because it gave me a chance upon my return to see Felicity’s face when she thought Amelia was going to declare their friendship inappropriate and therefore off-limits. Felicity looked ready to slip right back into that defeated, helpless version of herself I found on that awful night when she was neglecting the babies.
I did a good job of changing the subject, even apologizing. But what I thought was settled, was disturbed once more when Amelia canceled their coffee date. Felicity had done a poor job of trying to hide how much this bothered her. After tucking her into bed, I’d taken the kids with me to the home gym, set Ella up on her playmat and Romeo in his door frame bouncer, and called Amelia.
I launched right into it when she answered, saying, “You need to text Felicity back and say you can make it to see her tomorrow, after all.”
“This is inappropriate,” she replied. “You are not in any position to tell me what to do.”
I took a deep breath, knowing I needed to adjust my approach. “Listen, I apologized the other night and I meant it. I’m sorry I was pushing things. I just—I had found out from Danny Boy about him calling you and it made me rethink everything we were doing. But all that is meaningless in comparison to how much Felicity gets from your talks. She needs you.”
“This has gotten to be a bit much,” she said.
“No, it hasn’t. You’re doing good. You’re helping her.”
“But, Conor, we should tell her about this arrangement. It’s only right.”
“No.”
“If—”
“I thought you wanted her friendship? Don’t you share things about yourself with her? It’s not all one-sided, right?”
She sighed. “No, it’s not all one-sided. And I do value her as a friend.”
“See! It’s like you said at the start. If you can impart some of your training as part of a friendship, then all the better. It’s grand, Amelia. Just keep on with it.”
There was some hesitation, but in the end, she finally agreed. She’d texted Felicity soon after and their coffee date was back on.
Now, they must have parted ways because I’ve gotten this odd text from Amelia. I’m at the studio, waiting for the lads to show up. I’d come early, anxious to make up for the lost time over the weekend. But now I’m sitting on a stool with my guitar in my lap and my phone in my hand, useless.
Then she sends a follow up text.
I told her he’s how we’re all connected.
I’m not sure where she’s going with this, so I keep my reply short. I see.
She continues on, texting: I still don’t want Daniel to know about all this, though.
Won’t say a word.
Thank you. Felicity and I had a good talk today. I’m glad we put the meeting back on.
I don’t want to know more than the generalities about Felicity’s meetings with Amelia. As long as I continue to see improvement, I’m happy. I send a text that I hope will put an end to our chat: Grand
. Cheers.
And then Amelia further explains herself.
What I mean is, you were right. She has become a true friend. This is no longer an arrangement. I feel I’m only giving her the advice a girlfriend would.
There’s something that feels off about this. My instincts tell me she’s trying to convince herself she’s not out of line, though I think we both know that isn’t quite true. Still, I’ll let her have her rationalizations. We all have them to some degree, don’t we? Hers will ensure that Felicity has someone to lean on.
Glad to hear it. I mean it, but I’m also glad to be done with this chat. It feels too much like a violation of Felicity’s privacy.
I see Roscoe before I see Danny Boy. The dog finds his way into the room where I am, sniffing and licking me like the old pals we are at this point. His wildly wagging tail is enough to get me to spend a minute scratching him behind the ears. Getting up, I place my guitar in its holder and Roscoe and I make our way out to the front of the studio. Danny Boy is there with Shay. They’re bickering about something, but I don’t register what, as I’m looking at Danny Boy differently now that I know he wasn’t bullshitting me with his claim of having a connection with Amelia.
It occurs to me that Amelia is disregarding with Felicity the very thing that Danny Boy claims is his only impediment to a relationship with her: their previous history as client-therapist. So, why the two sets of rules? What makes her hold back in Danny Boy’s case? I mean, besides the obvious of not wanting to get involved with an addict fuckup. Maybe it’s just her way of letting him down easy. A lighter touch than rejecting him outright. It would be the prudent thing to do, especially after having made the mistake of getting too close to him when he was a patient.
“Aye, Con,” Shay says with a nod.
“What’s up, man? You guys good?”
“I’m good. Never can tell with this bastard,” Shay says, punching his brother hard in the arm.
“Hey, fuck off with that,” Danny Boy says with a groan. He rubs his arm vigorously.
Roscoe whimpers and we all look at him. He’s leaning all of his weight against Danny Boy’s leg. The dog is meaning it as a protective gesture, but all I see is that night when Felicity practically did the same thing to me. She wanted my protection and I wonder if I’ve really done anything to help. Has setting her up with Amelia been the right thing? Or am I just too deep in this thing, too hopeful, that I won’t let up and recognize it for what it is: irresponsible.
“See that?” Danny Boy says with a sneer. “My Roscoe will bite your hand off if you go after me.”
Shay tests the theory by offering his hand to the dog. Roscoe promptly licks him.
“Come on, boy!” Danny Boy says with a laugh. “It’s just because he senses we’re related. He’s showing you pity.”
“Of course, that’s what it is,” Shay says with a roll of his eyes.
Roscoe whimpers again, shifting on his haunches and making it clear his agitation is much more about needing to take a piss than protecting Danny Boy.
“All right, let’s go, fella,” Danny Boy says. He gives him a pat and then heads back outside.
I’m glad for the time with Shay. I hadn’t ever planned on doing this, but now that I’ve got an opportunity, I feel I must go ahead and do it.
“So, listen, I don’t know what Gav told you about Felicity needing someone to talk to?”
Shay had been doing some of his normal warm up stretches, pulling one arm behind his back with the other and stops now to give me his full attention.
“He didn’t say much actually,” he replies. “Just wanted to know Danny Boy’s story with the therapist, if she seemed to know her stuff. Told him I wouldn’t doubt it, not after seeing how Danny Boy’s improved.”
I nod. I should stop here. I should just be glad that she’s making strides with Felicity. But I don’t stop. “You ever meet her?”
“Eh, yeah, as it happens.”
And then he tells me the story of how he and his brother got pulled into babysitting for Daisy when Gavin and Sophie were away, and their nanny got sick.
“Danny Boy ended up calling Ms. Patterson when he thought Daisy was sick, too,” Shay says.
“Was Daisy sick?”
“Nah. I guess you could say he was being overly cautious by having her over. But it’s more likely he used it as an excuse to see her.”
“Because he’s got something for her?”
Shay sighs. “It sure seemed so.”
“And her? She return the sentiment?”
“Well,” he says and tilts his head one way, then the other. “I dunno. Not that I could tell in what she said in that short time I saw her. But, you gotta figure her coming out in the middle of the night when he called is a pretty good sign that there was more going on for her side, too.”
“You think it was these . . . feelings that ended the therapy?”
“He says it was because he reached his year of sobriety and felt he was good. But, I wouldn’t be surprised if that other stuff played into it.”
“He’s managed pretty well since stopping the therapy, right?”
Shay nods. “Yeah, he’s been doing great. Especially, though, I think, because of being with us. Having the studio stuff to focus on is a big deal.”
“What’ll happen when we’re done with this? Tour won’t happen for several months.”
“Funny you say that because I was just talking with Jessica last night about having him come out to San Francisco to stay with us.”
“To babysit him?”
“Well, more just to have him around. As much as I give him hassle, I like him being around.”
I know Shay’s had it rough with his brother over the years. He’s spent more time cleaning up Danny Boy’s messes than he ever did just being pals with him. I never thought I’d say it, but I’m happy Danny Boy is around, too. If only because he’s given Shay some much needed peace.
“Is there some trouble with Felicity seeing Ms. Patterson?” Shay asks, taking me from my thoughts.
“Ah, no. I was just curious about what went on with Danny Boy and her. She and Fee are getting on well.”
Shay eyes me for a minute. He’s always been one to see beyond the surface level of things. It’s a blessing and a pain in the arse, to be honest. But whatever he sees now must tell him to let it go because he starts stretching again.
Danny Boy and Roscoe return then and are soon followed by Martin and Gavin. We’re days away from finishing the album. Time to put aside my lingering questions about Amelia. Time to focus.
33
Felicity
Conor returns home at a little past eight o’clock, a welcome surprise since I assumed he’d be late. I’d been prepared, in fact, to wait up.
I greet him at the door with a lingering kiss that has him reaching for me when I abruptly pull away.
“Good to see you, honey,” he breathes.
“I have a plan for us tonight,” I tell him.
He grabs my backside and pulls me to him forcefully. “Can’t wait.”
“Not that. It involves a little outing.” I nod to the side table where I’ve placed his motorcycle helmet along with mine.
“What do you mean?”
“Lizzy’s here. She’s going to stay as long as needed. Tonight, you and I are free to do as we please.”
He raises his eyebrows and smiles down at me. “You know what pleases me, don’t you?”
I grab the lapel of his weathered leather jacket, pressing my body closer to his. As usual, he smells good. He has the ability to apply just the right amount of cologne so that it literally entices you into getting as close to him as you can in order to inhale his masculine aroma.
“I really hope so,” I tell him. I give him another kiss, and once again leave him wanting more. “Let’s go out for a motorbike ride right now, though.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs, leaning into me. “Okay, okay. Yes. An evening ride sounds grand.”
He checks in with
the babies, changes into boots fit for riding, and grabs his motorcycle jacket, before returning to where I’m waiting by the front door. I have a backpack filled with things to enjoy at our destination.
* * *
The earlier good weather has lasted, and the air still feels warm. I’ve got my arms wrapped tightly around Conor’s waist as he confidently steers the motorbike on the open road.
“Where shall we go?” he had asked before we put on our helmets.
“North.”
“How far?”
“Let’s go see Finn MacCool,” I said, and he stared at me for a moment, thrown by this suggestion. Going that far would be a least an hour and a half, which is nothing to him. He loves long rides. But he knows I’m not the biggest motorbike fan, so for me to suggest this as what we do for our one night of freedom is unexpected to say the least. “It will be relaxing,” I told him. After another moment, he smiled and told me to hop on.
Though I don’t love motorbikes, whenever I ride with Conor, I feel completely at ease. There’s something about the way he handles the bike that dispenses with any worries I might have. I just know that with him, I’ll be safe.
And so, we drive on, and the journey is smooth all the way until we get to Giant’s Causeway, the World Heritage site consisting of forty thousand honeycomb patterned basalt columns. The hexagonal formations leading out of the sea and up against the cliffside were caused by volcanic eruptions, but legend has it that a giant named Finn MacCool lived there once upon a time. Not being a strong swimmer, he created the “steps” to aid in his journey across the water to challenge a giant in Scotland.
Being on motorbike helps us avoid the after-hours road barrier and we’re soon parked and walking hand in hand on the stones as the summer sun finally sets. I’ve brought flashlights but the moon on the rise is full and there will be plenty of natural light for some time to come. We settle on what is known as The Giant’s Boot—a lava formation which looks exactly like what its name suggests.
Felicity Found (Rogue Series Book 6) Page 17
