‘Jesus H,’ Dermot whistles.
‘Have you the forms, Johnno?’ Clare asks, blunt as a shovel.
‘Oh yeah, yeah,’ he says and riffles them out of a binder. He pushes the top sheet over to me. ‘Just here and here,’ he says. My hand wavers above the dotted lines, blood roaring in my ears. I sign and hand the form to Clare.
‘Sorry about all this,’ Johnno says. ‘I’ll file these straight away.’
‘Do,’ Clare says.
He shakes our hands and hobbles out.
I heave a sigh and look over at Clare. ‘I’ve got to run by St. Enda’s. Say goodbye.’
‘Right,’ she says.
‘I can drop you down,’ Dermot says.
‘No,’ I smile up at him. ‘I like the walk.’
An eerie quiet hangs over the factory. No mechanical strumming, no footfall, no chatter. I let myself into the office and fire up my laptop. I run a search, and a stream of high tech cooling systems pops onscreen. ‘Overnight, guaranteed’ they say. I like the sound of that. I click away and print out the invoice. Then I send a text to Michael. ‘Shipping off on the four o’clock ferry.’ I start packing up my things.
‘Still hard at it?’ Bridie says and pads in from the factory floor. She hugs me tight. ‘What ever are we going to do without you?’
I hand her the invoice. ‘Make lots of cheese,’ I smile.
Her eyes bulge. ‘But how did you--’
‘Clare.’
‘Clare?’ she balks.
There’s a sharp knock on the outer door, and Bridie swings it open.
‘Got a delivery for St. Enda’s?’ a courier says.
Bridie squints at the box. ‘Is that a computer? No, you must have the wrong place!’
‘You’re grand,’ I say and sign for the parcel.
‘Sure I don’t know how to work one of those things!’ Bridie reels.
‘Cormac will show you how,’ I reassure her. ‘You’ll be able to update the website and keep track of the online orders.’
‘Well, I never… And that’s from Clare too?’
‘That’s from me,’ I grin.
Bridie hugs me to her as if she hadn’t a notion of letting go. ‘Thank you, Julie. From all of us, thank you.’
‘It’s me that should be thanking you,’ I sniff.
‘Whatever for?’ Bridie laughs.
‘For showing me who I am.’
Bridie snuffles through happy tears. ‘You’re very welcome,’ she says.
‘I better get going. The ferry’s due at four.’ And I haven’t even packed!
I make my way back to the cottage, my eyes pulling in the high colors of the land, its bold pitch and fall. It would be strange, power walking down Broadway, after all this wide open green. I wonder, will I miss it?
I tread down the hall and into Mum’s room. Clare is bent over my suitcase, one of Mum’s letters in her hand. She flinches when she hears me, and it flutters to the floor.
‘I’m sorry. I was just…’ she says, and stoops to pick it up. Her face is muddied with tears.
‘It’s alright,’ I smile and put an arm around her shoulder. We sit down together on the bed. ‘Which one is that?’ I ask.
She holds it out from her face and squints slightly. ‘…The city is a strange place, and the people in it stranger still,’ she reads. ‘There are so many of them, a sea of them, and every one his own little island. I’ve never felt so alone. I think only of the day we can come home to you and to Clare.’
A tear slides down Clare’s face. She clears her throat, and starts again. ‘… Julie is ten tomorrow. Ronan asked her what she’d like for her birthday, and she said a pony. “We haven’t room for a pony,” I told her, so she squinched up her nose, the way Clare used to do, and said, “Then the beach!” We thought she meant Coney Island (she’s mad for the Ferris wheel), but she shook her head NO and ran out into the hall. We’ve a picture there, you know the one, of you and me and Clare on the near strand. My Lord, that was ages ago now. She brings it in to us anyway and says, “This beach. With Auntie Clare and Gran.” I thought my heart would break…’
Clare takes up another letter, hands trembling slightly. ‘…On gusty nights, I imagine myself home with you and my dear sister, the three of us snugged up to the fire. It’s all I can do to bear the sea between us. I know that Clare cannot forgive me, and I don’t begrudge her that. I can’t forgive myself. The choices I made, I made out of love. I never meant to hurt her, but what I did was beyond pardon. I stole her dreams…’
Clare lets her hands fall to her lap. ‘I made Mum promise not to write,’ she says. ‘Can you believe that? I told her Maeve had left us. She was as good as dead.’ She turns to me, eyes stricken with an ancient welling pain. ‘Are you really going?’
‘Isn’t that what you want?’
Clare looks down at her feet. ‘It isn’t. I thought it was alright. I don’t want you to go because of me. Because of things I’ve said.’
I clasp her hand. ‘I’m going because it’s the right thing to do.’
‘I’m very sorry, Julie,’ she says. She sighs and bats at the air in front of her face. ‘Your mother was always much better with words.’ Her eyes shift to the photograph of Maeve on the bedside table. ‘How I did envy her…and love her,’ she says, quieter now. ‘I wanted to run away, to leave the island and the person I could feel myself becoming.’ Clare pauses to quickly wipe away a tear.
‘Your father and I, we were very close. After his parents died, he spent every summer here on Inishmore. Besides Maeve, he was the only soul I told my dreams to. We’d go up to the cliffs, and look out across the sea, and guess at what was behind the horizon. It was to him I gave my first kiss. Even when we were teenagers, he had my heart entirely. I counted the days till June every year. He moved to the island after school, and everyone said he’d ask me to marry him the summer I turned eighteen. I was so in love, I didn’t see the lingering way he started to look at Maeve. She was so very different than me, so vibrant and free, no one could help falling in love with her.
‘My eighteenth birthday came and went, then my nineteenth, and he didn’t ask. Deep down I knew the reason, but I couldn’t bring myself to acknowledge it. Then, one day, I caught them together at the factory. I lost my head and screamed bloody hell at them both. “I never want to see you again!” I said. I was so blind with rage.’
‘And they left then?’ I ask, my voice quavering.
‘No,’ Clare answers. ‘Your father was a good man. He would never have dishonored me in front of the entire village by leaving me for my sister. So he decided to move back to Galway. But Maeve. She was only a girl then and heartbroken. She didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. It was only later that I found out she was carrying a mighty secret.’ Clare sighs. ‘She was pregnant with you.’
My breath catches in my throat.
‘And she suffered alone with her secret,’ continued Clare. ‘I was too much with my own pain to notice, but our mother did, of course. She consented to help Maeve and Ronan off to escape scandal. One morning, I came down to breakfast, and she was gone.’ She chokes back a sob. ‘All my life, I thought I hated my sister for her betrayal. I never understood that she acted out of love. Not until now.’ She hands Mum’s letters to me.
‘Why are you telling me all of this now?’ I ask her.
‘I couldn’t forgive them,’ she says. ‘I nested deep into my anger. For years after they died, I couldn’t face up to the truth. It was my fault! My hatred kept them away. Nothing she or your father ever did caused me as much pain.’ I blink back a tear. ‘Your grandmother and your mum would’ve been proud of all you’ve done here.’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, biting at my lip. ‘I think it might’ve been better if I’d kept out of it.’
‘Your heart was in the right place,’ Clare says. ‘That’s what matters.’
I turn to face her, overwhelmed, arms outstretched. ‘Clare, I--’
‘Don’t. Please don’t,’ she says, recoi
ling into herself. ‘I just… I just wanted you to know that if you wanted to stay…you can.’
‘You know I can’t,’ I say, the tears coming hard and fast now.
‘I know,’ Clare says, dabbing at her eyes. ‘Come on now. No more of this.’ She pulls herself up and flips the carry-all open. ‘I’ll help you with this.’
Dermot wheels my bag to the front door, Cormac and Clare at his heels.
‘You all really don’t have to come with me,’ I say.
‘Don’t be daft,’ Clare says.
My heart swells to see the pier crowded with familiar faces--Fionn and Ava, Kieran and Brendan, Bridie and all the girls. They jostle close to pump my hands and hug my neck.
Bridie steps forward with a long, teary hug and a gift bag.
‘Cheese?’ I laugh through my tears.
‘One of these days, you must try it!’ she kids.
Cormac gives me a smarting high five. ‘I’m coming to visit you in NYC,’ he says.
‘Are you?’ Clare needles him.
‘You’re always welcome. All of you!’
My eyes dart along the road. Where is Michael? He’d said he’d be here. I can’t leave without saying goodbye.
The ferry whistle blows. Four o’clock, staight up.
‘That’s you, missus. Better head up,’ Dermot says.
I grab my luggage and give them all one last hug. Still no sign of Michael. I climb the gangplank and make my way to the back of the deck. I scan backward up the main road, but there’s no sign of the jeep.
He didn’t come. Why hadn’t he come? I’m so stricken I have to clutch the transom to steady myself.
The mates throw off the lines, and the ferry pulls slowly away from the pier. I cast a half hearted wave back to the pier and turn to face the sea.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I turn the key to my apartment and step inside, arms weighted down with bags and enough cheese to stock a Jewish deli for a month. Everything is just as it was, but the place feels off, like I’m seeing it for the first time. I drop the bags to the floor and pace from room to room, not sure what to do with myself. I check my phone again: no messages.
Michael has my number. If he had gotten hung up somewhere, he’d have called. Or texted. Right?
I plop onto the couch. Why do I feel so incredibly shitty? I’ve got a life to get back on track! I shouldn’t be moping over Michael. The pack of Nat Sherman’s is right where I’d left it, smack in the middle of the coffee table.
Hellloo!
I slide out a cigarette, tip a match to it, and lean back noir style, my hand upturned coquettishly. I take a deep drag. Hmmm. That’s not nearly as nice as I remember. I take a long look around the apartment. My God, this place is small. My eyes skim over the sterile Ikea furniture, all of it in shades of black and white. Small and a bit dreary. I ask myself how could I live here. With Brad! I take another puff on the cigarette. Still manky. I jab it out on the edge of a plate.
What am I doing?! I should be over the moon to be home, and Stuart’s dynamite offer. I have to accept! It’s my dream job, but I can’t seem to pry myself off the sofa.
Bridie’s voice echoes in the back of my mind. ‘Love makes its own home.’
I shoot up again and head out the door and downtown.
Oak Ridge Assisted Living. This is the place.
I knock at the door and am met by a burly armed nurse.
‘May I help you?’ she asks. A spindly woman peers over her shoulder.
‘Mrs. Foster!’ I gush.
My God she’s gotten old.
She stares out at me as if I might be a vision.
‘It’s me, Julie! Kate’s friend.’
‘Kate?’ she whimpers.
The nurse steers her back inside. ‘Sorry about that, miss. It’s bad days and worse days with that one. Who was it you were looking for?’
‘Kate Foster.’
‘Oh yes. She’s here today. Down the hall to the right.’
I click down the corridor and peek into a common room where Kate is mid charade, a group of older men and women gathered, whooping, around her.
‘One word!’ the woman nearest me yells.
‘Movie!’ a second adds.
Kate nods emphatically and claps her mouth open and shut, eyes gleaming terribly.
‘Dracula!’
Kate swims wildly across the room, biting as she goes.
‘Baywatch!’ an old man yowls.
‘Dear, will you help us?’ one of the women asks me, and Kate turns to see me.
‘Julie?!’ She squints at me in disbelief.
‘Hey, no talking,’ a man spits.
‘Two minutes, Mr. Finch.’
She stalks over and yanks me into the hall. ‘When did you get back?’
‘Just now,’ I say.
‘Like just now?’
I nod. ‘I came to say I’m sorry. I’ve been a terrible friend, and an even worse partner!’
Kate sulks. ‘You’re pretty shit at it, actually.’ She smiles and claps me to her. ‘But I forgive you.’
My heart breaks wide open.
‘Hey, Kate? Can I get your help a minute?’ A very dapper young man kitted out in the same get up as Kate strides over.
‘Yeah, sure. Steve, this is Julie.’
He clasps my hand. ‘Heard loads,’ he smiles wryly and turns to Kate. ‘Mr. Anderson needs his bath. And guess who he asked for?’ He squeezes Kate’s side and ducks into a store room.
‘That’s Steve?’ I gape.
‘Mmmmhmm,’ Kate beams. ‘I’ll see you Monday? Same bat time?’ she asks.
‘Same bat channel.’
5.00 am Monday morning comes way too soon. I fumble about in the apartment, my head five hours fuzzy, trying to remember the shape of my routine. I’m a pot of coffee and three week old papers to the good when the clock strikes seven, and it’s me firing up the subway stairs, and Kate waiting with the two steaming cups of coffee.
‘Still on Irish time?’ she laughs.
‘Oh yeah.’ I take a big glug of coffee.
‘Wait’ll you see your new office. That’ll perk you up.’ We stream through the crowd, the energy of the city seeping up through my feet. ‘You should’ve seen the look on Roger’s face when Stuart booted him!’ Kate prattles on. ‘Total diva.’
I freeze on the corner, eyes wide at a row of flashing television screens. The Aran video--my video--hops across each of them.
‘Julie?’ Kate looks over my shoulder. ‘Oh yeah, you haven’t seen that? It’s like totally viral now.’
‘Is it?’ I ask, trying to sound nonchalant.
‘Yeah. Were you near any of that?’ She nods at the protest clip.
‘Not really,’ I lie.
Tadgh swings the agency door open for us, tipping his hat to me.
‘How was your trip to the old sod?’ he asks.
‘Go hiontach!’
The elevator door slides open to the office, and there’s Roger, a crammed cardboard box in his arms.
‘Look who’s back,’ he snarls.
‘Heya, Roger,’ I smirk. ‘No hard feelings, okay?’
I stride past him to the glory that is the corner office. All of the staff are gathered beneath a ‘Welcome Back!’ banner, holding their breath.
‘There she is,’ Stuart cheers and pours a round of champagne. ‘To our new Creative Director!’
Tina sweeps me into the office. ‘I’ve reassigned your files to this port,’ she says, pointing at an external disk, ‘updated your client list, and rerouted your mail.’
‘Thanks for that, Tina.’ I settle slowly into the mammoth black leather chair.
‘This just came for you,’ she says and hands me a brown envelope. ‘It’s urgent.’
It’s from Cathal. I push it to the corner of my desk, just out of arm’s reach.
‘Thanks, Tina.’
I flick open my laptop. Five new clients. Better get cracking.
But the first thing I do is run a search for m
y video. Kate was right. It’s popping up everywhere! There’s a link to the Fair Trade Commission’s website and a petition!
Kate knocks at the door. ‘How’s it fit?’ she grins, lounging a cheek on the edge of the desk.
‘Grand!’ I smile and snap the laptop shut.
‘Thought so,’ she trills.
‘Listen, Kate, if you still want to break out, start our own firm--’
‘Nah.’ She waves a hand at me. ‘I’m not sure if now’s the right time.’
‘Okay.’
Kate glances at the envelope on the desk. ‘Those the papers?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You sign ’em?’
‘Not yet. I will.’ I lower my eyes.
She hops off the desk and runs round behind me to give me a hug. ‘It’s so good to have you home, Jules.’
‘Yeah.’ Cathal’s letter stares me down from the opposite end of the desk.
‘Chat later,’ Kate says and slips out.
I have to pull a late one to catch up with the backlog of work. Roger’s books down, hands on approach had lost us two mid level clients, and Stuart had given me the express mandate to find one big name to fill the gap. The Chavez Brothers were ripe for the picking, but I couldn’t hand them over to Stuart!
Made With Love: I Love You Forever Page 26
