‘Ben, Jesus. Have some respect,’ I scold, turning a corner down on the page of Nana’s manuscript that we’ve paused on, and shuffle to one side of the chair to make room for the mound of paper that I set down beside me. ‘It was the fifties,’ I offer an explanation, softening. ‘People didn’t go around wearing their heart on their sleeve back then like they do today.’
‘Really?’ Ben snorts. ‘You think people are more open and honest nowadays?’
I nod, certain. ‘Yeah. Of course, they are. There’s less to be afraid of now.’
‘Like what?’ Ben shrugs.
‘Like lots of things. Race, sexuality, that kind of thing. C’mon, Ben.’ I roll my eyes. I’m in no mood to get into a history lesson with my argumentative brother.
‘I’m not talking about stuff like that, Hols. I’m talking about day to day, normal people and how they behave. And I don’t think much has changed at all.’ Ben sighs. ‘People still fuck up perfectly good relationships because they’re too afraid to say what they really feel. Nate’s a good guy, Holly.’
I drill two fingers into my forehead and close my eyes. My brother has a way of getting under my skin like no one else can, and it’s infuriating. Even more so because I understand the point he’s trying to make. Dammit, I hate when he’s all mature and sensible.
Opening my eyes, I find Nate sleeping or pretending to be at the far side of the room. He’s poured into a corner chair that’s way too small for him to curl up in, but he attempts it anyway. I notice his eyes flicker at the mention of his name.
‘Ben,’ I growl, warning my brother not to say any more. Not in front of Nana.
Ben ignores me and continues. ‘No seriously,’ he blurts. ‘You two were all loved up just a few months ago.’ Ben points at Nate and then drags his finger across the air to me. ‘Holly, the only thing you talked about was bridesmaid dresses and hen parties.’ Ben rolls his eyes. The dramatic approach doesn’t suit him. ‘You nearly drove me mad with all that wedding bullshit. And now look at the two of you. You’re not even sitting beside each other. And you still want to argue that times have changed? Bullshit.’
Nate opens his eyes and sits up. I sense he’s irritated, but he doesn’t tell Ben to shut up. I wish he would. Ben won’t listen to me, but if Nate told him to back off, he probably would.
‘It’s complicated, Ben,’ Nate mutters sleepily. ‘We explained.’
‘No. Not really. You said your baby was sick,’ Ben blurts. ‘And I’m so sorry, so sorry that you’re facing that. It’s unimaginable. But it’s an excuse for a breakup, not an explanation. Christ, you’d think at a time like this, you’d need each other more than ever. When the shit hits the fan, you need the people you love more than ever.’
I look at Nate, and his eyes are already on me. Ben makes a surprising amount of sense. I have no idea why I pushed Nate away when we found out the baby was ill. I guess I took my anger and upset out on him. It wasn’t fair.
‘You’re just like Nana,’ Ben says. ‘She pushed this Sketch dude away ‘cause her father was a dickhead when really she should have married him, told her father to fuck off, and lived happily ever after.’
‘Yes,’ Nana says, softly.
The room falls silent instantly, and despite the intensity of our conversation, we all turn to face Nana without another word.
‘Are you okay, Nana?’ I ask, hurrying to her bedside. ‘Can I get you anything? Water maybe?’
Nana swallows, and I watch the lump struggle to make its way down her throat.
‘Do you want to see the nurse?’ Ben says, reaching for the buzzer over Nana’s bed. ‘I can call her now if you need her. Are you in any pain?’
Nana winces, and I hold my breath. She doesn’t talk, and I don’t know how to help her. I feel so empty inside.
‘Have you something you’d like to say, Annie?’ Nate smiles, so much more together than either Ben or me.
Nana nods.
‘She wants to talk,’ I say as if Ben and Nate needed clarification.
‘Yes, Holly.’ Ben smiles. ‘We got that.’
Nate leans over the opposite side of the bed to me and fluffs the pillows behind Nana’s head, tilting her head just a fraction, but she instantly seems to breathe more comfortably. I smile, and my hand instantly rubs my tummy as I realise that I’m proud to have this man’s baby growing inside me.
‘Thank you,’ Nana mouths with more air than sound.
‘We’re listening, Annie,’ Nate assures her, smiling. ‘Take your time.’
Nana sucks a huge amount of air in through her mouth. Her chest rises, and a vicious cough bursts out of her with a force that contradicts her frail body. I hurry to help her.
‘Shh, Nana,’ I whisper, struggling not to burst into tears as I lean over her and try to think of a way to help her, a way to ease her distress. ‘Don’t try to talk.’
Ben’s around my side of the bed in seconds, and he scoops his arm around my waist and pulls me upright. ‘Holly, leave her,’ he pleads. ‘She wants to say something. Let her.’
‘She’s too weak,’ I argue, trying to break away from my brother’s firm hold.
‘Let her,’ Ben says, slowly and firmly. ‘Let her get this out. It’s obviously important.’
I soften and stop struggling.
‘Okay.’ I nod.
Nana’s lips curl at the sides into a subtle smile, and her head slowly twists to one side so her eyes can find Ben.
‘Good boy,’ she croaks as if Ben is five years old.
Ben smiles with smudge satisfaction just as a five-year-old would. I shake my head and roll my eyes, secretly enjoying my grandmother’s praise of my brother.
‘Don’t be a silly girl, Holly,’ Nana says, her voice louder and less broken than I’ve heard in days. She’s scolding me, just as she used to when I was a child, and I reminisce instinctively. ‘Nathan loves you,’ she adds, firmly. ‘Don’t punish him for something that is not his fault.’
I’m not, I think, shaking my head. I mean, at least I don’t mean to. I know it’s not Nate’s fault our baby is sick. It’s not anyone’s fault.
‘Nana, it’s complicated.’ I repeat the tired words that seem to fall off my tongue on autorepeat.
‘It’s not.’ Nana coughs, and then her eyes roll and close. ‘It’s only complicated if you let it be.’
Nate hurries to help her. He slides a confident hand behind her and slaps her back firmly. Ben and I watch, like a pair of emotional idiots. Her face is pale like garden lilies, but Nana moistens her lips slowly with her tongue and carries on, determined.
‘It’s never about how long you love someone, Holly. It’s about how much. Five minutes, five years ...’ Nana draws a deep crackling breath, and everyone else holds their breath in response, waiting. ‘It’s about how much,’ she puffs out. ‘How much. If a lifetime is a day, make it the best day ever.’
Nana closes her eyes, and the sound of uneven breaths ripping in her mouth and huffing back out is cumbersome and takes over the room. We all wait in silence for her to say more.
‘Marry the boy. Don’t waste time. Time is precious. There is never enough of it.’
Nana’s eyes close again, but this time, they don’t flicker back open. She’s said her piece, and content, her smile widens as she falls into sleep once more.
Nate’s eyes meet mine across the room, and when he smiles at me, I sigh, knowing my grandmother is right. I really should just marry the boy already. If only it were that simple.
‘What do you think she means?’ Ben says. ‘Do you think she means you’re a pair of gobshites for calling the wedding off in the first place? Because I do. I think that’s exactly what she means.’
A smug smile is plastered so wide across Ben’s face I want to ask him if his jaw aches.
‘Yeah, well. It’s not as simple as that.’ I snort.
‘I bet that’s what Nana told Sketch too,’ Ben says, drawing on the obvious parallel. ‘And by the sounds of things, she has her regret
s.’
Ben’s smile fades, and a seriousness that I’m not used to creeps into his eyes. ‘Look,’ he continues. ‘If the worst does happen, and the little tyke doesn’t make it, don’t you think you’re going to need each other more than ever?’
Nate doesn’t take his eyes off me. I can feel the heat of his stare glare into me.
‘Dammit, Ben,’ I growl. ‘I hate when you have a point.’
Everyone laughs. Even Nana. It’s a subtle inner giggle, but she’s listening, I can tell.
Thirty – Seven
Nana’s hospital room door creaks open, and my mother’s head appears in the gap.
‘It’s time.’ She swallows. ‘The ambulance is waiting downstairs.’
The room was silent even before my mother spoke, but a sudden, new silence takes over now. It’s eerie and all-consuming. This silence lingers for too long, crushing us all with its heavy presence.
‘Nana, we’re moving to your new room,’ I say, taking initiative as I stroke Nana’s wiry, silver hair back off her forehead.
My mother doesn’t stray from the doorway. My father is standing behind her. I can’t see him clearly because the open door hinders my view, but I imagine he has his hand in hers or around her waist or something. Supporting her without words. Supporting her the best way he can.
‘The nurse will be here at any minute. She’ll tidy up all these wires and things and get Nana comfortable,’ my mother explains, unable to bring her eyes to look at the medical equipment draping from Nana as if she’s a puppet on a string.
‘Okay,’ I say, ‘And then we’ll go straight to the hospice?’
‘Holly.’ My father pauses and clears his throat ‘Only one person is allowed to travel in the ambulance with Nana,’ he explains.
I nod. I know that person is rightly my mother.
‘Traffic is crazy in the city, so by the time Nana arrives at the hospice and is comfortable and settled, visiting hours will probably be over,’ my father adds, his eyes drifting to the ground.
Ben stiffens. I can sense his distress from across the room. Nate reaches for my hand, and without overthinking it, I slip my fingers between his.
‘We can’t see her again tonight, can we?’ I shake my head.
‘Not tonight,’ my father says. ‘You guys have been here all day. Nana would be so proud of you. It’s time to go home and get some rest now, okay?’
‘I’m not tired,’ Ben says, his smile agreeing with his words, but his drooping eyes let his argument down.
‘Go home, kids,’ my father says, softly. ‘Get some sleep. It’s what your grandmother would want, and you know that. Your mom is here now. Give her some time.’
Ben argues some more with Dad. Voices are raised. Mostly Ben’s, but I manage to tune them out. My fingers slip away from Nate’s slowly, and he confidently lets me go. He understands I need both hands free to stroke Nana’s face. I need both hands to touch her warm, wrinkled skin. I need both hands to hold hers as I tell her that I love her. I need both hands to make some more memories.
‘Holly,’ my mother calls. Her voice carries over my distress and over Ben’s emotional profanities. ‘Can we talk for a moment?’ She tosses her head over her shoulder towards the door.
I bend forward and kiss Nana’s forehead. I linger long enough to savour her scent; talcum powder and lavender perfume, as always.
‘Sure,’ I say, plastering on the smile I know my mother needs to see.
I step into the hallway, and Mom closes the door behind me. Nana is severed from my view, and I breathe slowly in through my nose and out through my mouth trying to maintain composure.
‘I’m sorry about earlier,’ Mom says. ‘I just ... I ...’ She presses her hands against her face and drags her fingers all over. ‘I’m so out of my depth, Holly. Nana is a rock. She’s my rock. She needs me to be strong right now. And here I am, crumbling. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
‘Jesus, Mom,’ I say, instantly feeling guilty for being annoyed that my mother didn’t like my orchard visit idea. ‘You don’t need to apologise. I get it. Honestly. I mean, Nana is your mom.’ I take my mother’s hand in mine. ‘There’s nothing really like the bond between a mother and her child, is there?’
‘Yes, Holly.’ Mom’s eyes drop to my belly as she drags her hands away from mine. ‘There really isn’t anything like it.’
I chew my bottom lip. I really don’t want to have another conversation about me, Nate, and the baby. Actually, I don’t want to have any conversation at all, but my mother needs to talk. Her hands are clasped, but her fingers seem to want to move in opposite directions. Her fidgeting is so vigorous, it looks uncomfortable.
‘I spoke to the doctor again,’ Mom says.
‘And ...?’
‘And he didn’t seem to think a visit to the orchard was such a bad idea.’
‘Oh, my God, Mom. Are you serious?’ Bubble of giddiness pop in my tummy. ‘Can we go there? Really? Can we take Nana?’
‘I’m not sure it will help her, you know,’ Mom says. ‘Her lungs are a in a bad way, Holly. And cold, night air is dry.’
‘I know,’ I say, remembering the random coughing fits I struggled with as a child if I stayed out playing in the garden too late. Always at Nana’s. Always because of night air. Always watching the stars.
‘But I’m also not sure it won’t help her,’ Mom says. ‘She’s needs this, Holly, doesn’t she? Her lungs are weak, I know that. Goddammit, the doctors have drilled it into my head often enough. Keep her warm ... keep her dry ... keep her comfortable, they said as if it wasn’t obvious. But they never said keep her happy.’ Mom runs her fingers under her eye and catches a delicate tear. ‘They just wanted to keep her alive. But what is life without happiness?’
I inhale. I’m lost for words.
‘The orchard will make her happy, won’t it?’ Mom smiles for the first time in a while.
I nod. ‘Yeah. I really think it will.’
‘I haven’t told your dad yet,’ Mom says, her eyes avoiding contact with mine. ‘He thinks the idea is madness. Your father loves your grandmother, but I’m not sure he understands her the same way we do—’
‘He’s probably right,’ I say, cutting my mother off midsentence. ‘I mean, I get it. Technically, sensibly, medically, blah, blah, blah. Taking an old lady out into the cold of night just so she can see some grass and trees, well, it doesn’t make much sense, does it? It’s probably not the best idea as far as drips and wires and medicine goes. And if you asked me a couple of weeks ago if I thought this was a good idea, I’d probably have laughed in your face. But that was before. Before I read Nana’s book. Before I knew about Sketch and the orchard and the time they had together. Life only lasts so long. Love lasts forever, right?’
‘Right?’ My mother rolls her shoulders back. ‘’Love conquers all, doesn’t it?’
‘Too far, Mom, too far,’ I try to joke. ‘You sound like a Hallmark card. “Love conquers all. Here, have a kitten.”
My mother opens her mouth, and I think she tries to laugh, but the only sound that comes out is a throaty croak.
‘Sorry,’ I mumble quickly. ‘I was just trying to be funny.’
My mother doesn’t reply.
‘Anyway,’ I say, ‘kittens are cute, but I’m definitely a puppy person.’
‘Holly.’ Mom finally looks at me, acknowledging my efforts of make light of the situation, but her eyes are still heavy with saddens. ‘What are we doing?’
I shrug. ‘Honestly?’
Mom nods.
‘I have no idea,’ I say, unable to hide my worries that all this is madness. ‘I think the only person with a plan is Nana.’
My mother’s lips twitch on both sides, but she doesn’t plaster on the fake smile I’ve come to expect. She doesn’t tell me everything will be all right that way she usually does even when we both know she’s lying. She doesn’t say anything at all. But my mother is brighter and lighter than I’ve seen in some time, and I think she is excit
ed about taking Nana out.
Thirty – Eight
I lie awake on my bed staring upwards, but I don’t see the ceiling over my head; all I see is Sketch’s face and the hurt scribbled all over it when I broke his heart. I replay the evening in my mind, and each time I get to the final scene, I rewrite it with a very different ending.
The crunch of my mother’s shoes making their way up the driveway calls my attention to the window, and I hurry over to look out. She doesn’t see me as she walks up the driveway alone, a spring of happiness in her step. Sketch hasn’t chaperoned her all the way to the door. Sketch is a gentleman and quite the stickler for etiquette, so dropping my mother at the gate is unexpected but not surprising. Sketch will probably want to avoid our place from now on. Avoid me. Anyway, it’s probably for the best. The rumble of Sketch’s engine might have woken my father, and the last thing either my mother or I need is my father awake tonight.
I don’t hear the front door open, and I think my mother is even more of an expert at creeping silently around the house than I am. But I sit up, startled when my bedroom door rattles as someone tries to open it. I hurry over and pull the chair away from the handle and jump away as fast as I can in case it’s my father and not my mother on the other side. The door immediately creaks open, and my mother is standing in the gap, bright-eyed and smiling. I sigh with relief when I see the right parent.
‘I just wanted to check on you before I went to bed,’ my mother says. ‘Your father is asleep by the fire. I’ve thrown another log on so it should burn all night, and he won’t wake with the cold.’
‘Good idea.’ I nod.
‘How was he?’ my mother asks as if I’d been babysitting a toddler.
‘Fine,’ I lie, making sure to keep my voice to a dull whisper. ‘He fell asleep soon after you left.’
My mother’s head bobs slowly up and down. She doesn’t believe me, I can tell. But we’ve both learned over the years that sometimes just accepting the white lie hurts a little less.
When It Rains: The bittersweet romance you won't want to miss Page 26
