Forty – Five
One Year Later
The two-hour journey from Dublin to Galway maps out in my mind like a familiar old story. I sit in the passenger’s seat of Nate’s car as he navigates his way out of the confusing airport carpark. Our flight home from Dubai was delayed by an hour, and I’m overly aware we’re running late now as a result. I’m also tired and hungry, and when Nate takes a wrong turn leaving the carpark, I groan inwardly.
‘Oops,’ Nate says, trying to make a U-turn on the busy road. ‘I thought I needed to take the first exit on the roundabout.’
‘It’s the second,’ I say. ‘Always the second.’
‘I know. Sorry,’ Nate mumbles sheepishly.
I frown. ‘No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so snappy. I’m just tired and anxious.’
Nate takes a hand off the wheel to squeeze my knee gently.
‘I know.’ He smiles. ‘But this will be good. Today will be good.’
‘I hope so.’
Nate manoeuvres us back on the right track quickly, and I relax as he accelerates into the stream of fast moving traffic. Nate’s car is sporty and turns heads. It’s a distinctive contrast to my rusty little red car, and if I was the cynical type, I might even think our cars are some sort of metaphor for our personalities. Thankfully, I’m not! Despite my car’s age and issues, it has kept going this past year even on the days when I thought I could not. It’s been such a difficult year that something as mundane as my car breaking down could have broken my spirit completely, but it held on, just like I did. But I know it’s only a matter of time before my car gives up completely. Since we no longer need to pay into the wedding fund, Nate suggested we keep the account open and use the next payments to pay off a new car. He suggested we go together at the weekend to test drive some options. I’m not sure if Nate made the suggestion because he really wants me to have a shiny, new car to rival his or because he knew the suggestion would guarantee him the best honeymoon sex ever. Either way, it was a good idea.
As we turn onto the motorway and leave the airport behind us, I close my eyes and consider sleeping for a while. Nate dozed sporadically on the plane, but I didn’t. The eight-hour flight home from Dubai was bumpy and uncomfortable, and when we landed, despite having the most wonderful honeymoon, I was glad to be back on home soil. Even though we arrived in Dublin just fifty minutes ago, and I’m exhausted, bypassing our apartment in Dublin and being on the road to Athenry feels perfect. I thought Nate would suggest going home to grab a shower and a change of clothes before we hit the road, but he never said a word, and as he veered right instead of left on the M50, I knew it wasn’t just another wrong turn. Nate is as anxious to get to Galway as I am.
‘Do you think traffic will be bad?’ I ask sleepily.
‘Looks okay,’ Nate says, pulling into the fast lane. ‘Get some sleep, Holly, if you can.’
‘I love you,’ I whisper.
‘I love you more,’ Nate says. ‘Now, shh. See you in Galway.’
I let my seat back and relax. Galway can’t come soon enough. I can’t wait to see my family. Four weeks abroad straight after the wedding has flown by and felt like a lifetime all at the same time. So much happened so suddenly in the months and weeks running up to our wedding that sometimes when I blink, I feel like the past year has all been a dream. And if I concentrate, I find myself standing in the orchard, holding Nana’s hand and staring at the stars.
My parents moved into Nana’s old farmhouse shortly after she passed away. With my father retired and looking for a project, doing up the old house seemed like Nana had been saving the opportunity for him. And I’ve never seen my mother more content than to be back in the house she grew up in. She bakes every day, and she’s obsessed with walking into town every Saturday morning to visit the farmers market. We’ve all told her the farmers provide the local supermarkets, and she can buy the same stuff there any day of the week, but she doesn’t care. She says it’s tradition, and we can’t argue with that.
Nate and I travel for an hour or so, content with our own thoughts before I finally break the comfortable silence.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask.
‘Yeah.’ Nate points at the road ahead. ‘I wish this asshole in front of me would drive between the bloody lines, though.’
I smile, glancing out the windscreen at the driver Nate is talking about. ‘I didn’t really mean are you okay driving right now. I meant more in general.’
Nate grins brightly. ‘I’m okay, Holly. I know this has been a hard year. The hardest. But when I’m feeling shit or low, I remind myself that this time last year, I couldn’t call you my wife, and now I can. Despite all the pain and heartbreak, this will always be the year that gave you to me. That’s the positive that I concentrate on when I need to be strong.’
I grin. I think about the same thing when I need perspective too.
‘How are you feeling?’ Nate asks, taking his eyes off the road for a moment to meet mine.
‘I’m okay,’ I say. ‘I still can’t believe it’s been a year, you know.’
‘I know.’ Nate sighs. ‘I know. Sometimes, it feels like it all happened yesterday, and other times, it feels like a lifetime ago.’
‘Yeah. Exactly,’ I say, closing my eyes to daydream of the past.
I must drift off to sleep because it feels as though I blink, and when I look out the window again, we’re pulling off the main road and onto the tiny laneway that leads to the orchard.
I didn’t notice Ben driving on the motorway behind us, but his car veers off the main road onto the once strange but now familiar laneway straight after us. We park side by side on the grass verge.
‘You ready to do this?’ Nate asks, turning off the engine.
I glance out the window and into Ben’s car. He’s sitting, pensive with his hands still gripping the steering wheel at ten and two. The long-haired brunette in the passenger’s seat leans across to kiss his cheek.
I’ve heard a lot about Ben’s new girlfriend—mostly from my excited mother—but today will be the first time I meet her in person. Ben called me sometime last week. And even though the reception was terrible in the desert, I could make out something about him checking if it was okay to bring his girlfriend today. He knows how much today means to me, so I really appreciate him checking if I was okay with a stranger-to-me joining us. Usually, I wouldn’t be, but I’ve never heard my brother use the term girlfriend before. I’m excited for him.
Ben and Sabrina have only been dating three months, and Sabrina didn’t make it to our wedding because her mother is unwell, and she is the sole carer. Ben was super disappointed she couldn’t make it, but he tried to hide it well for both Sabrina’s and my sake. It’s the first time I’ve ever known him to really fall for a girl, so I can understand why my mother is so giddy about the relationship.
Sabrina is pretty, and as I watch her comfort my poignant brother, I think I like her already. I pull my stare away reluctantly, feeling as if I’m intruding on a private moment between them.
My parents’ car isn’t here, but the rusty old gate into the orchard is open and creaking as it sways in the wind. I suspect my parents have walked from the farmhouse. It’s a tedious walk on winding backroads, and the cars zoom around the many bends way too fast, but I know my mother will have insisted on walking today for old times’ sake. She’s probably even secretly hoping for rain.
Nate leans into the back of his car and gathers our waiting coats, hats, and scarves off the seat. He must have thrown them into the car at the last minute before we left for the airport last month. I’m so glad he had the foresight to consider the weather when we landed back home. The winter’s day waiting outside the comfort of Nate’s car is a shocking contrast to the Dubai heat. My denim skirt and sleeveless shirt that I’ve flown home in don’t stand a chance against the Irish weather in January.
I snuggle into the material of my heavy black coat that I last wore the days of my grandmother’s funeral and take a deep breath
. I can’t believe it’s been a year, I think. One whole year. My fingers twitch as I do up the buttons.
Nate gets out of the car first and walks around to my side. A gust of wind blows sharply against my face as soon as he opens the door. Nate reaches his open hand out to me, and I take it and step out of the car.
‘I love you,’ he says, pulling me close to him for a cuddle.
‘I know.’ I smile, snuggling close to him. ‘I love you too. We’re okay, aren’t we? We’ll be okay, won’t we?’
Nate sighs, and I feel his warm breath dance across the top of my head. ‘We will be okay, Holly. We have each other.’
I pull away from Nate and lean back in the car to fetch a little white box that has travelled everywhere with me for the past few months. Nate’s eyes drop to the whitewashed timber in my hands. He presses two fingers against his lips, kisses them, and then touches his fingers gentle against the box.
‘We’ll be okay,’ he repeats, smiling softly, and I believe him.
Nate and Sabrina follow our lead. Sabrina is taller than she looked from inside the car, and her faux fur coat complements her tan knee boots. She glances at my feet and smiles at my wholly inappropriate for winter flip-flops.
‘Did you have a nice honeymoon?’ she asks.
‘It was wonderful,’ I reply. ‘Complete escapism.’
Ben shuffles on the spot and mumbles through an awkward introduction, but Sabrina and I have already bonded over silly footwear, and I have a feeling we are going to be good friends.
‘What size are you?’ she asks, pointing at my feet.
‘Six. Why?’
‘I’m a seven,’ she says, ‘I have a pair of Uggs in the back if you’d like to borrow them. They’ll be a little big, but they’ll keep you warm.’
‘Yes. God, yes.’ I laugh, looking down at my toes that despite my golden tan are turning blue.
Sabrina leans into Ben’s car and fishes out the comfortable warm boats and passes them to me. Her hand brushes off mine, and she pauses for a moment to eye me with sympathy and kindness.
‘I’m so sorry to hear about your baby boy,’ she whispers.
‘Thank you.’ I swallow, instantly emotional.
‘Ben told me all about him. He showed me all the photographs. He was very beautiful.’
‘Thank you,’ I repeat, steadier now. ‘He was.’
‘Are you ready?’ Nate asks, tilting his head towards the swaying gate.
I pass Nate the little white box that I cherish and slip my feet out of my flip-flops and into Sabrina’s Uggs. I throw my silly, summer footwear into the back of Ben’s car and hope I remember to fetch them later.
‘Let’s go,’ I say, smiling as I look at the box in my husband’s hands. ‘Let’s wait for the stars.’
Forty – Six
It comes as no surprise to find my parents are already waiting under Nana’s special tree when we arrive.
‘How was the honeymoon?’ my father says, throwing his arms around me for a monstrous bear hug that almost knocks the air out of me.
‘Look at the colour of you?’ my mother says. ‘You have a fabulous tan. I want all the details. I can’t wait to hear all about Dubai.’
‘Jesus, Blair, don’t embarrass them. I’m sure they’d like to keep the gory newlywed details to themselves.’
I laugh. Mostly because Nate’s nose and cheeks flush, and I know he’s thinking over the countless times we made love while we were away.
‘I’ll start digging, yeah?’ Nate says, hurrying away to reach for the shovel leaning against one of the trees.
‘Good idea.’ I smile, admiring his ability to distance himself from the awkward conversation.
‘I’ll help.’ My father nods.
There’s only one shovel, so Nate digs while Ben and my father stand on each side of him watching. It’s a team effort, really. And Nate jokes about how he’d never manage without their help.
Within minutes, Nate has a small, somewhat round hole dug in the soil next to Nana’s tree. He sets the shovel down and turns around to look at me with sad eyes.
‘Are you ready?’ he asks.
I feel my mother’s hand supportively on the small of my back, encouraging me forward. I suck my lips between my teeth and nod. Ben and my father part and make room for me to stand next to my husband. I take a couple of steps forward and press my shoulder against Nate’s arm. Nate kisses the top of my head.
I look down at the rectangular white box resting between my hands. It’s small and light, and I like how the varnished timber feels against my fingertips. A-R-T-Y is carved into the lid in fancy, curly font and every time I run my finger over my son’s name, I see his beautiful newborn face looking back at me with stunning blue eyes, brighter than the sky on a summer’s day. We didn’t just have one day with Arty; we had a whole week. Seven wonderful days and just as Nana asked, I made enough memoires in those days to last a lifetime. Laying my baby boy to rest in the orchard next to his great-grandmother’s tree will be my final memory. And I will cherish it.
I bend down and place the box into the hole in the ground. The glossy white looks out of place against the dark brown earth, but I know in my heart this is where Arty belongs now. Nate gathers a handful of clay from the tiny mound his digging created next to the hole.
‘Goodbye, little man,’ he whispers, opening his hand. ‘Daddy loves you.’
Flaky, brown earth rains down on the tiny white box, and I begin to cry.
‘It’s okay,’ Nate says, pulling me close to him. ‘It’s time to say goodbye.’
My knees tremble as I copy my husband. The soil is wet and cold in my hand, and I pause before letting go.
‘Keep him safe with you, Nana,’ I say, opening my hand.
My father steps away and returns with a small delicate apple tree. Nate and I chose the tree from a local nursery just weeks after Arty’s birth. We’ve been waiting until Nana’s anniversary to plant it.
‘It doesn’t look like much now,’ my father says, placing the delicate tree into the hole in the ground. ‘But give it a little time, and it will be big and strong.’
Nate fills in the hole around the tree with the rest of the clay, and my heart pinches when I can no longer see the white box.
‘I knew saying goodbye would be hard,’ I admit. ‘But I didn’t know it would be this hard.’
We all take a moment to stand in silence with our heads bowed as we stare at the newly planted apple tree.
My mother is first to move. She spreads a couple of blankets on the grass and pulls a flask out of a picnic basket I hadn’t noticed before now.
‘Let’s drink up and wait for the stars to come,’ she says, sitting down cross-legged.
It takes a while, but comfortable conversation eventually begins to flow. Nate and I tell tales of our honeymoon adventures, and we get to know Sabrina as she tells us all about herself.
Everyone is busy enjoying their second cup of tea and chatting when Nate passes me his phone with his emails open on screen.
‘I wasn’t sure when to show you this,’ he says. ‘I got the email last week, but well, we were away. I knew today would be very hard for you, and I thought this might help.’
‘What is it?’ I ask, squinting as the phone shines brightly against dusk that falls around us.
‘Read it.’
My eyes scan the screen, and I can’t race through the words fast enough. ‘It’s from a publisher in Chicago,’ I say.
Nate nods and smiles. ‘They want to publish Annie’s book.’
‘What?’ I shake my head. ‘Why?’
‘Because it’s a good book, and they think people will enjoy it. They’re offering six figures, Holly.’
‘That’s a lot of money,’ I balk.
‘I know,’ Nate says. ‘Think of what your parents could do with that kind of cash. They could use it to fix up the farmhouse. Or take the holiday of a lifetime.’
‘It is a lot of money,’ my mother interrupts, and I jump unawar
e she’d been listening. ‘If it was published.’
‘The publisher is very eager, Blair. They’re ready to move on this quickly. Annie’s book could be on the shelves of every bookshop within six months. Isn’t that amazing?’ Nate gushes.
‘It’s very flattering, Nate.’ She nods. ‘But it’s an offer we will have to refuse, I’m afraid.’
Nate’s excited shoulders round and his face falls.
‘I’ve been where you are now,’ my mother explains. ‘Back in the seventies when I was a teenager, I contacted countless publishers. Most refused but I did have one offer from a small press in London. I couldn’t wait to tell Nana. I thought she’d be so excited. But she wasn’t. She smiled and praised my efforts, of course, but she also explained that seeing her book on the shelves was never why she wrote it. She wrote it to help heal her broken heart. And she said it did.’
‘You read Nana’s book before?’ I shake my head, confirming what I suspected all along.
‘Yes.’ My mother smiles. ‘Nana gave it to me at the time in my life when I needed it most. I was about sixteen when I started asking questions about my father who I never met. I needed to know about where I was born. I needed answers. I needed to know who I was. Your grandmother gave me her book and let me read it in my own time.’
‘You were born here in Athenry, weren’t you?’ I wrinkle my nose.
My mother shakes her head. ‘No. I was born in Nice, France.’
‘Oh, my God,’ Ben says, suddenly raising his head. ‘Nana did go to France. She did have her adventure. I knew it. Good for Nana.’
‘Yes. She did.’ My mother smiles. ‘And she stayed in France until I was three months old. A whole year she travelled. She came back to Ireland exactly one year to the day after she left.’
‘She came back for Sketch’s anniversary,’ I say knowingly.
‘Yes.’ My mother smiles. ‘She did. And she never left the Talbot farm again since.’
‘She was pregnant with you when she married Sketch,’ I say.
‘Yes. She told me once that when Sketch reached for her heart as he lay dying and told her she would always have him with her that maybe he meant she would have me. She liked to think that he knew she was carrying his child, and he knew she wouldn’t be alone.’
When It Rains: The bittersweet romance you won't want to miss Page 32
