by Melissa Hill
Not for the first time, Declan wished he could snap his fingers and make all of this go away so that Kate’s life (and Rosie’s) could return to normal.
And then he had the guilty thought that if that were possible, he would never have met her.
Momentarily shaken by the flood of confusion he was feeling, Declan found himself relieved when Kate spoke, interrupting his internal dialogue.
“Hey there,” she said with a weary voice, “I could have come to the office—I was just in Glencree. You didn’t have to come all the way over here; I’m sure you’re busy.”
“Well, you happen to be a very important client,” he said, teasing her a bit, which earned him a small smile. He hoped that his tone might lighten the mood. “Here, let me help you with the groceries,” he offered, heading to the back of the Astra. “And good on you for taking my suggestion.” He loaded up his arms with bags and refused Kate’s help. “No worries. You go ahead and unlock the door. I think I’d need to have my man card revoked if I couldn’t carry a few measly bags from the car.”
Pleased to hear her chuckle, he followed her dutifully into the house. Kate went about opening doors through to the kitchen and Declan hoisted the bags, placing them somewhat clumsily on the countertop.
She started rifling through the shopping and then suddenly paused. “Declan, I have to tell you something.”
He had been about to help her empty out some of the shopping, but stopped to meet her gaze. Something in her tone indicated that she was about to give him some bad news.
“I ran into Madeleine Cooper,” she blurted. “And I tried to talk to her.”
Declan felt his stomach drop ever so slightly. So far, there had been no major missteps with this case on their side. No embarrassments, no talking out of turn, no public faux pas. Unlike the Coopers, who had been at the helm of many.
However, he vowed to remain levelheaded and simply asked Kate to tell him what had happened. When she’d finished, he nodded thoughtfully.
OK, so it wasn’t the best thing to have happened, but it wasn’t the end of the world, either. Kate was seriously beating herself up about the situation, though, and he didn’t want her being hard on herself. There was no point.
“Did anyone happen to see the exchange?” Granted there was no gag rule when it came to plaintiffs and defendants talking to each other in public, it was just something he wouldn’t necessarily recommend in the midst of pending proceedings.
Kate nodded. “Just Christine.”
Declan looked perplexed. “My cousin?”
“One and the same.”
Sighing heavily, he couldn’t resist a smirk. “Is there ever a situation that Christine isn’t involved in?”
Kate chuckled, but there was something a bit hysterical about her laughter, and Declan chalked it up to feeling overextended and worn-out.
All of a sudden then, her stomach released a loud gurgle, causing them both to stop and look at each other—only to resume their laughter a moment later.
“All right, seriously, Kate, you need to eat. Your stomach is begging for some attention.” He poked through the remainder of the bags on the counter and seemed to decide on a course of action. After removing several items, he pointed to his client. “Now, you just sit. Leave this to me.”
“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, amazement in her voice as she watched him remove his suit jacket and begin rolling up the sleeves on his shirt. He reached up around his neck to loosen his tie and then eagerly rubbed his hands together.
“It’s not what I think I’m doing, Kate. It’s what I am doing. I’m cooking you lunch—a proper meal—and I’m going to sit here and watch you eat all of it. OK?”
She grabbed a stool at the countertop and crossed her hands in front of herself dutifully. “I assume I’m being billed for this?” she asked sweetly.
Declan, who had since located where Kate stored her pots and pans, turned back to her with a twinkle in his eye. “Jokes. She’s making jokes now,” he said. “Very funny, Ms. O’Hara.” He put a saucepan on the stovetop and then began opening up more cabinets.
He saw her cast a quick glance over what ingredients he had arranged on the counter. “I’m assuming you are making spaghetti, which means you are going to have to eat it with me, because no one only makes a single serving of spaghetti. And if you are looking for the chopping board, move two cabinets down. Toward the back.”
Following her instructions, he mouthed a silent Thank you. “My own kitchen isn’t quite as complex,” he admitted.
“Well, you are a bachelor, don’t forget.” Kate smiled, relaxing a little.
As Declan made himself comfortable in her kitchen, he had a brief worry that this felt a bit too comfortable, too casual. Were they overstepping some kind of boundary here? Or did this sort of amicable relationship just naturally happen when two people spent a lot of time together in an emotionally charged situation?
He pushed the thought from his head as Kate headed to the cabinet where she kept the glasses, which was right where he was working. “Sorry, I just need to reach up to that shelf,” she said, pointing to the cabinet in question.
“Oh, right,” he acknowledged a bit awkwardly as he tried to step back from where he had been cutting vegetables for a salad. He moved enough so Kate could wedge her way in, and the small corner space forced their two bodies together.
“Um, sorry,” she said quickly as her arm brushed Declan’s. “The one awkward area of this kitchen,” she gave by way of an explanation. “Greg and I always said that if we’d designed this room, we would never have put in an island. Too cramped.” Her face had turned bright red.
Declan smiled. “How long had you been married when you moved here?” A flash of something crossed her face then and he added, “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business. You don’t have to—”
“No, really, it’s fine,” answered Kate. “I can talk about it. And it’s good for me to talk about it. It’s my life, it happened. Really, it’s OK and I’m OK. We were married for eight years when we moved here. Times were great and for that, I’m thankful. Maybe my marriage didn’t last as long as I thought it would, but there were definitely way more good memories than bad.” She wore a smile and this time Declan was pleased to see that it reached her eyes. “What about you? Been down that road yourself?”
He chuckled. “No. I came close, though. I was engaged to a girl from Dublin a few years ago. But it didn’t work out.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound bitter. He’d been heartbroken at the time, but he definitely didn’t wish his ex-fiancée any ill will.
“So what happened?” she asked. He turned to face her and as he met her gaze he realized she was blushing. “It’s just...you know so much about me.” She smiled nervously and was it just him or had something definitely shifted between them today?
Declan tried to fight the growing worry that he might be crossing a boundary here. “Well, there isn’t much to tell,” he said honestly. “She pretty much decided that small-town life wasn’t what she wanted. And that wasn’t good, considering I’m a small-town kind of guy.”
Kate rolled her eyes playfully. “Yet the small-town guy can cook. Where did you learn that?”
Turning back to the stovetop in an effort to finish with the food, Declan replied, “My mother is a great cook. Interestingly, her skills passed on to me, but not to Alison. God love her, she wouldn’t even know what this room is used for. Now, voilà, lunch is served. Eat up.”
The pair dug into their pasta and fell into a comfortable line of banter. Declan had broken bread with many clients in the past, but he had to admit that none of his business lunches or dinners ever felt this comfortable.
It was friendly. And he liked how easily their conversation seemed to flow. For the first time ever, they weren’t talking about Rosie’s case. They were simply tw
o ordinary people discussing their day-to-day lives. It gave him a better picture of who Kate was when she wasn’t wrapped in stress, worry and sadness.
And he couldn’t deny that he liked it.
“That, Mr. Roe, was absolutely delicious,” complimented Kate as she swallowed her last bite of pasta. “Oh, my goodness, I’m so full I think I’m about to fall asleep after it.”
Chuckling, he replied, “I’m not going to fall for that—you’re cleaning up.”
“And I will—right after I get back from the hospital.”
“Aww, hell, now you’ve got me feeling guilty. Go on away, woman, and I’ll look after this. You look after Rosie. I can let myself out after.” Then realizing this might have sounded too familiar, he added, “If that’s OK?”
“Of course it is. And...thank you. I can’t remember the last time I had such a nice meal. And I definitely can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me...”
The pair looked at each other then as the words hung in the air. Something had definitely shifted.
“I...I’d better go,” Kate said, looking terrified.
“Of course. But first, let me give you those papers I wanted you to sign. They’re in the car. You can take them with you and I’ll get them back whenever.” He swallowed hard and forced himself to not seem weird. Kate was his client. She was going through a hard time. They had talked—ventured a bit too far into the personal maybe, but it was all OK.
“Great. Will do.”
Kate collected her things and Declan headed out front with her to his Volvo to get the documents.
“Take care and say hello to Rosie for me,” he said, handing them to her. “We’ll have to celebrate properly when she comes home.”
Kate smiled then, tears in her eyes, and, almost without thinking, Declan closed the space between the two of them and gave her a hug.
He felt her arms go around him, squeezing him softly as she returned the contact.
“Thank you,” she said quietly, emotion thick in her voice, before breaking the embrace and getting into the car.
Declan watched her leave, his mind suddenly a maelstrom of thoughts he hadn’t the first clue how to process.
34
Sitting at her laptop with the intention of checking her email, Madeleine was trying her utmost to avoid being distracted by the latest barrage of hateful comments and messages on her social media page:
If that little girl dies—it’s all your fault. How stupid can people be! Vaccinate your damn kids!
You nut job! What kind of conspiracy theorist wacko are you?
I wish your kids could be taken from you. Jesus, you have some nerve going on TV and acting like some kind of parenting expert. FRAUD! I hope you lose your shirt in COURT! And lose some weight too, fat-ass.
Stay strong, Madeleine! A parent knows what’s right for their children and what isn’t. Don’t let the haters get you down!
I completely agree with you and your husband, Madeleine. No parent should be forced by the government, doctors or anyone else to poison their children with chemicals. That other little girl getting sick isn’t your fault. Justice will prevail.
I love your blog, Madeleine. When will you write again? After the week I’ve had I need a laugh. Also, can you let me know where you got that nice shirtdress you were wearing on Morning Coffee the last time you were on? Was it Kate Spade? I love her stuff too.
Worried that she might break down and cry, she switched quickly to her email program, hoping for better news.
But what she saw there made her feel even worse.
Dear Madeleine,
I hope you are very well. I wanted to let you know that due to unforeseen circumstances, namely the recent media controversy surrounding your blog, we feel it might be best to postpone publication of the Mad Mum collection for the moment. I’m sure you agree that the current atmosphere is not ideal for propelling the book to the sales heights it deserves. We will of course be happy to reexamine the situation at a later date, perhaps when your legal situation is resolved?
With all good wishes,
Joanne O’Rourke,
Senior Publisher, Little Blue Books
Exhaling heavily, Madeleine closed her laptop. When would all of this stop? The endless barrage of criticism and outrage about her and Tom’s decision-making, their parenting choices and now, ominously, she noted among the latest batch of hate mail, her appearance?
She did not consider herself a vain woman but surely there wasn’t a person alive who enjoyed being referred to as “fat-ass.”
Regardless of being called fat, the disappointing—but not unexpected—news about her publishing deal going south was a much bigger dent to her professional ego.
But from a business perspective, of course it was a no-brainer for the book to be put on ice, and also no major surprise, given the huge reversal of public, and indeed commercial, support for Mad Mum since news of the lawsuit broke. Since then, all but two of her online advertisers had pulled the plug and she guessed it was only a matter of time before the others did as soon as their current contracts expired.
All the hard work and effort she’d put into building her brand and turning it into a successful business was now rapidly going down the toilet.
And all because people didn’t agree with her stance on a controversial topic.
The way people—her own neighbors, even—were talking, you’d think Madeleine had actually gone around to Kate O’Hara’s house and physically injected Rosie with the measles virus.
It was all such a huge disaster and Madeleine had no idea how to get out of it. And of course in reality this was just the beginning. What would it be like when they actually got to court?
She stood up and absentmindedly checked her appearance in preparation for a quick coffee with Lucy before they went to pick up the kids from school. But she didn’t need a stranger on the internet to tell her she looked like shit. Her hair fell limply around her face and her roots badly needed doing, but she was too afraid to go near her own hairdresser’s or any salon these days, what with all the tongue-wagging and finger-pointing from every quarter. And worse, Madeleine no longer knew who—if indeed anyone—was on her side.
Except Lucy, of course. A chat with her good friend was a long-overdue and much-needed diversion. She was brilliant for putting things in perspective, and ever since the story first broke had been at the ready on the other end of the phone with a kind word and a cheery story or two to help Madeleine keep her mind off it all and raise her spirits when some of the online stuff got too nasty.
And while Tom was still unhappy with Lucy for the part she’d played in unwittingly giving Kate O’Hara the ammunition she needed to claim negligence, Madeleine knew that her friend hadn’t meant for any of this to happen and would never in a million years do anything to let her down.
But when she reached Molly’s Café in the center of Knockroe and took one look at Lucy’s face as her friend waited nursing a latte at their usual table, she immediately knew something was wrong. And worse, she wouldn’t meet her eyes.
“What’s going on?” Madeleine asked, wondering what fresh hell the universe was about to unleash on her now.
Lucy wrapped her hands around the cup in front of her. “I wanted to tell you in person and...I might as well just come right out and say it, but, Maddie, I’ve agreed to testify. On Kate’s side.”
Madeleine felt all the air leave her lungs. “What? But why? Why would you do that, Luce? You know that I didn’t mean any harm that morning, and you agreed with me that it wasn’t right for Kate to be doing this. Why, then, would you turn around and stab me in the back?”
“That’s not it. Please understand, Madeleine, it’s nothing personal—”
“But of course it is! You, my friend—possibly the only remaining friend I have
left—are going to stand up in court and tell people that I purposely sent Clara to school knowing she was ill. We already know that it doesn’t seem to matter whether I meant any malice or not; the very idea that I knew she was sick seems reason enough to make me a monster. Why, then, would you add fuel to the fire?”
There were tears in Lucy’s eyes now. “I don’t have a choice, sweetheart. I saw Rosie yesterday and it almost broke my heart. She’s not...good.”
Madeleine collapsed into the seat across from her, stunned. She honestly didn’t think things could get any worse and suddenly they had and then some. “How bad is it? Is she still in the hospital? Will she ever be OK again?”
“She’s due to start rehab soon and they’re not yet sure when she’ll be ready to go home. But it’ll be a long road for her, that much is for sure.” Lucy sniffed. Then she reached for Madeleine’s hand across the table. “Look, for what it’s worth, I know Kate was in two minds all along about proceeding with the case. But now, with this, I realize she doesn’t have a choice. And she needs me.”
“Needs you to prove that I’m at fault. That I caused all this.” Madeleine’s brain swam with the horror of it all. To think that she could be held responsible for causing serious brain damage to a little girl. It didn’t matter that it was indirect or otherwise. This was the reality. Kate O’Hara’s reality was of course a million times worse, but that didn’t stop Madeleine from feeling nauseous about it, all the same.
“I was wondering...” Lucy began then and, at the tone of her voice, Madeleine turned her attention back to her friend, who sounded like she had something else on her mind. “I was wondering if...well, this is hard to say and please don’t take it the wrong way, but is there any possibility at all of you and Tom maybe agreeing to settle all this? Before it gets to court, I mean.”
Madeleine thought of her husband and how angry all of this had made him. How he’d vowed to protect his rights, would fight to the death to defend their family’s choices. There was no way Tom would back down from any of this.
Of course, Madeleine would do so in a heartbeat, especially with what had happened to Rosie in the aftermath, but Tom? No way.
