A Risk Worth Taking

by Brynn Kelly

  “Eshi,” she said, eventually.

  No. It wasn’t eshi. Nothing was eshi. If the memory of their encounter in the cottage wasn’t so vivid he’d wonder if it’d happened. Blown from history like the cottage was blown from the map.

  Well, seeing as it never should have happened and never would again, that was appropriate. But, damn, he wanted to kiss her right now. Just a little downward shuffle and his lips would be level with hers...

  “We should go,” he said.

  It was still dark more than an hour later when they reached his sister’s town house and banged on the door. Samira slipped off a boot and rubbed her toes. The walk had been unrelenting but blessedly uneventful, though his head was pounding hard enough to crack his skull. After a few rounds of knocking, a curtain twitched in the living room. Samira was about to discover that her disappointment in Jamie was nothing next to his family’s. A light switched on in the hall and the door arced open.

  Nicole pushed her hair—still blue-black but longer—behind her ears, gave him a cursory disapproving look, then studied Samira head to toe and back up. “What the fuck are you doing here? Not you,” she added quickly, as Samira flinched. “Him.”

  Don’t give me hell, Nicole. Not today.

  “Samira, meet my charming little sister, Nicole,” he said. “Nicole, Samira. Uh, Nic, we’re needing a lift to Edinburgh.”

  “What?”

  “Edinburgh. It’s this city, sixty miles east. A little gothic and gloomy but the tourists seem to like it.” The joke was an effort but better that than let his real state of mind loose.

  “Three years, Jamie. Three years and you knock on my door at stupid o’clock and there’s no, ‘Hello, how are you keeping? Sorry for being the world’s most useless brother but I’m here for you now.’ Just, ‘I’m needing a lift,’ like I’m fuckin’ Uber.”

  Jamie darted a glance down the street, a curving row of identical dark houses. “We need to get out of here, right away.”

  “I’ve got the kids and they’ve got school.”

  “Since when did my sister prioritize school? Look, I can’t explain and you wouldn’t believe me if I did. But we have got to get to Edinburgh, fast. It actually is life or death.”

  “Your death or the death of someone I might actually care about?” She crossed her arms. “What kind of a mess have you landed in this time?”

  “It’s a long story but we don’t have t—”

  “Are the police after you?”

  “No... Ah, well, yes, in a sense, but it’s not my f—”

  “Bloody hell, Jamie.”

  He fixed her with his most least-bullshit give-me-a-break stare. “Nic, I really need this.”

  She shook her head slowly. Reluctantly defeated. “Am I going to end up in jail?”

  “Almost definitely not.” He let himself and Samira into the hallway and closed the door.

  Nicole stared at him a long minute, then tsked. “I’ll go and wake the kids.”

  “Is there someone you can drop them off to on our way out of town? Best not take them with us.” He glanced at Samira. “Just in case.”

  Another long stare, followed by another shake of the head. He took it as a yes.

  “Oh and Nic?”

  She flicked her hand through her hair. “I know by the tone of your voice that I don’t want to hear what it is you’re about to say.”

  “Is there somewhere else you can stay for the next few days? Just as a precaution.”

  “No, there’s really not.”

  “I’ll give you some money for an inn. You might want to pack a bag. Call it a holiday, on me.”

  She flipped him the bird.

  “Gracious, Nic. And you’re welcome.”

  He and Samira waited silently until Nicole returned, dressed in jeans and shepherding two overgrown urchins, each hauling a schoolbag. Jamie’s stomach dropped. Where were the round-faced little kids? He hadn’t been gone that long.

  “I’ll drive,” Jamie said, lifting a set of keys from a hook.

  Nicole snatched them. “You’re on something,” she hissed, snatching a wary glance at the kids. “I can see it in your eyes. You’re not driving.”

  “I’m driving.”

  “You’re not, not in that state, not in my car, not with my kids.”

  “I’m fucking driving.”

  “Language!” She pushed past him, snatching the keys. He grabbed her bag instead and, after a tug-of-war, won the right to carry it. She was still stubborn as all fuck.

  Samira slid into the back of Nicole’s Toyota with the kids, forcing Jamie to take the front passenger seat.

  “Shite, they grew up,” he said to Nicole.

  “Language!”

  “Oh come on. It’s barely language.” He would have instructed the kids to keep their heads down, just in case, but it wasn’t necessary seeing as they were doubled over tablets with headphones on. “Do what I do, not what I say, kids. Kids, meet Samira. Samira, meet...kids.”

  Nicole clicked her seat belt on. “Their names are Max and Tyler.”

  “I know their names. I just can’t tell which is which.”

  “One’s a boy. One’s a girl. You don’t need a medical degree to figure it out.”

  Jamie raised his eyebrows at Samira. She looked from kid to kid and shrugged. It was dark and they both had a mop of floppy brown hair and wore jeans, sweatshirts and sneakers. Nicole started the car and it lurched forward.

  “Fuck,” she said, shoving the gearstick into Neutral.

  “Language, Nicole.”

  “Shut up.”

  “They’re going to learn the words anyway. They might as well learn what they’re not supposed to say.”

  “Because you’re so experienced at parenting.”

  Jamie twisted, keeping an eye out the windows as Nicole reversed onto the road. “What she means by that glare, Samira, is that she’s having to beg and borrow to get through law school while I—”

  “While raising two children,” Nicole interjected.

  “While raising two childr—”

  “Alone.”

  Jamie took a breath. “While raising two children alone, and meanwhile I—”

  “In a shit heap of a house that has so many leaks we need umbrellas indoors.”

  Jamie waited. “You done?” he said, eventually.

  “Just getting started. You can see the bloody car I drive... Samantha, is it?”

  “Language, Nicole,” Jamie said. “Not that they’re listening. And it’s Samira. You know tablets can be bad for brain development?”

  “I imagine being around you will set them back a few decades.”

  “I don’t think they’ve noticed I’m here.”

  Jamie fished the baseball caps from the rucksack and handed one to Samira. Her sunglasses were in the car back at the cottage.

  “Are you sure you want to go all the way to Edinburgh?” Nicole said. “I can recommend a sucky bog I can drop you at.”

  Jamie didn’t need light to know Samira’s expression was an anxious one. He and Nicole knew their competitive insults were mostly in jest, but Samira wouldn’t. “You crack me up, Nic.”

  Samira cleared her throat. “I don’t know if we should be going to Edin—”

  “You have eighty minutes to come up with a better plan—seventy, the way Nic drives.”

  “Sixty, if I can help it,” Nicole said. “Sooner I ditch you...”

  “And you wonder why I vowed to stay away.”

  “You didn’t vow anything. I made you promise to stay away. But of course you wouldn’t remember that because you were so shit-faced at the time. What are you on today?”

  Jamie glanced at Samira. Shut up, Nicole.

  “Oh,” Nicole said, pointedly, noting his look. She angled her mirror to take
in Samira. “He’s not told you, has he, love? If I was you, I’d surrender to whoever’s chasing you. You’d be better off.”

  “Nicole, don’t. Seriously.” He’d have to have that conversation with Samira at some point—in the unlikely event they stuck together long enough—but not now.

  “Who is chasing you, anyway? The police?”

  “No.” At least, he didn’t think so.

  “Good. I’d turn around and deliver you to them. So, who?”

  “It’s a very long story.”

  “Ooh, let me guess... Somebody trying to get revenge after you screwed up their lives?”

  “It’s nothing to do with me.”

  She glanced up at the mirror.

  “It’s not her fault, either,” he said, in an undertone.

  “I honestly don’t want to know.”

  “It’s best that way. Nic, can I borrow your phone?”

  “What for?” Samira said.

  “To send word to Angelito and Holly. Don’t worry—it’ll be secure. And we’ll need their help if we’re going to...” He glanced at Nicole.

  “Say no more,” she said, raising a palm. “I don’t want to have to testify against you. Because I would.”

  He took the phone and messaged Angelito. As he waited for a response, he risked the elephant-in-the-room question. “How’s Mum?”

  Nicole’s jaw went rigid. “What do you care?”

  “Of course I care. You know I do.”

  Nicole exhaled. Relenting, slightly. “She’s oblivious, thank God. Mostly they have her drugged up enough that she’s in her own merry world. Sometimes I envy her that. But then, you’d know all about the magic of modern medication.”

  For fuck’s sake, shut up.

  A beep. Angelito. “They’re in London,” Jamie said to Samira. “They’re going to head to King’s Cross. I don’t think they’d need ID for a ticket to Edinburgh and I can’t imagine anybody would be looking for them.” Would Holly’s name raise flags, given her work history with the senator and Laura? Hyland had no reason to link Holly with Samira or Tess.

  “What drugs is Mum on?” he asked Nicole.

  Nicole rattled off a list. “The docs say it doesn’t improve her dementia but it makes her a happy patient instead of an angry and confused one, so... And they give her something to help her sleep. I can’t remember the name.”

  “You can always email me, you know, if you have questions.”

  “There’s no shortage of doctors to ask.”

  “That can be part of the problem.” He returned the phone to the center console. “How’s law school?”

  “Great. At this rate I’ll graduate about a year after I die of old age.”

  “Will you ever stop blaming me for everything?”

  “Makes me feel better to have somebody to blame.”

  He shrugged. “As long as I’m making you feel good about yourself... You dating anybody?”

  “And how the fuck would I find the time for that?”

  “Language, Nicole.”

  “Screw you, Jamie,” Nicole snapped back. But she couldn’t help a laugh, of sorts.

  That was how it’d always been between them. An endless game of ping-pong with conkers, their dad had called it. It was mostly a facade. They had each other’s backs when it counted. Like now. He knew she wouldn’t refuse to drive them. Well, he was fairly sure. And here they were, so...

  “How do you get off level eighteen?” Max/Tyler asked Max/Tyler, leaning over him/her in the back seat, and knocking his/her headset off with a none-too-gentle swipe.

  The other kid didn’t take his or her eyes off the screen. “Dunno. Not up to there, yet.”

  “It’s fuckin’ impossible.”

  Nicole whacked the steering wheel. “Max!”

  “You say it all the time, Mum.”

  Nicole glanced at Jamie. “Do not.”

  “Have you tried casting the Spell of Revelation?” Samira said.

  In the middle seat, Max was staring at Samira like she was speaking another language.

  “On the Orb of Knowing,” Samira continued. “Inside the Hall of Shadows. Here, let me show you. It’s been a while since I’ve played but...” She reached over and swiped and tapped. “There, you see?”

  “Mint,” Max said. “Do you play Age of Truth?”

  “Used to.”

  “I’m screwed on that one, too.” He—at least Jamie figured he was probably the boy—did some more swiping. “I get this far and them I’m well stuck.”

  “Can I have a go?” Samira said. “I’ll see if I remember. I know I’ve got up to level thirty. You guys are into old-school games.”

  “That’s because our tablets are shite and Mum’s too skint to let us upgrade.”

  Nicole rolled her eyes at Jamie. He gave what he hoped was a sympathetic look. He’d liked them better when they were shorter and worshipped him. After a few minutes, Samira was playing and chatting away like she was their age, whatever that was. Twelve? Thirteen? He really was a shite uncle. The kids had even unplugged their headphones.

  “Maybe that’s what I need to do,” Nicole whispered, under the volume of the chatter and game music, “rather than trying to force them to play football or Monopoly with me. Admit defeat. I’m always trying to get them off the fuckin’ tablets.” She glanced at the mirror. “Is she your girlfriend?”

  “No.”

  “Is that a ‘No, I’m just screwing her’ kind of no, or a ‘No, she’s married’ kind of no, or a ‘No, I’m in love with her but she’s too sensible to date a schmuck like me’ kind of no?”

  He laughed. “Mostly just the last one. With a side serving of ‘No, I’m not selfish enough to drag anybody down to my level.’”

  She raised her eyebrows in a faux-impressed look, like she was surprised at his level of self-awareness.

  “Nic, I know I’ve royally fucked up things.” Shite, it really was the day for apologizing for his shortcomings.

  She returned her gaze to the road. “I’m glad you’ve made peace with yourself.”

  “Wouldn’t go that far.”

  “Good.”

  “You know I was in no state to stay after the thing in London, and then when Dad died...”

  “I wish I’d had the luxury of the choice.”

  He ran his fingertips through his hair, his shoulder complaining at being raised. The heaviness in his chest suggested he’d well and truly sobered up.

  He realized the back seat had fallen quiet. He stole a look. Samira quickly averted her eyes. How much had she heard?

  Nicole lapsed into silence, but even after they’d spent their adult years apart, he could read her thoughts like a book. When are you going to grow up and come home?

  She was right—he’d gladly left her to take charge when their father died. He’d told himself that sending money to cover his mother’s needs was the best way he could help, that Nicole was better at that logistical stuff. She hadn’t let on that her marriage was falling apart but he should have noticed, like he should have noticed his father’s failing health. If he hadn’t been so fucking self-absorbed... And he hadn’t known that next time he saw her kids they wouldn’t be kids anymore.

  Nicole pulled up on a street identical to the one they’d left and knocked on a door almost the same as hers. The woman who opened it looked familiar. An old school friend? Jamie slunk in the seat. He’d warned Nicole not to let on she was with him, but best not take chances. As Nicole shepherded the kids from the car, they pretty much tried to download Samira’s brain.

  “I used to play so many games with them,” Nicole said as she pulled away from the curb again, almost to herself. “Kick a ball, take them places, have fun, but it’s been years since I’ve had time. And now that they’re not so little, connecting with them isn’t as simple.” For a change,
she didn’t turn it into an accusation against Jamie, which broke his heart a little.

  “I can imagine,” he said.

  “Stupid, huh? They’re my number one priority but everything else always comes first—earning an income, looking out for Mum, studying. And on the weekends, when I might have time for more than just being cook and taxi driver and household matron and homework supervisor, they’re living it up at their prick of a dad’s and I’m catching up on study. No wonder they prefer being with him—he only has to do the fun stuff. And they’re always having big gatherings there with grandparents and aunts and uncles and an ever-expanding bunch of cousins.”

  Jamie’s gut twisted. Had he been so self-obsessed that he’d thought himself the only exile in the family? Somehow Nicole had ended up alone, too. Popular, carefree, easily contented Nicole.

  “And then,” she continued, “he goes and gives me some ‘friendly advice’ that I should do more fun stuff with them, too. ‘It’s a matter of priorities, Nicole.’ No fucking idea.”

  “Sucks, Nic. Seriously.”

  “Stupid thing is, we split up because I was sick of having an uneven relationship and he was sick of having a grumpy wife. Now it’s way more unbalanced and I’m ten times as grumpy while he has a lovely compartmentalized life—though then he complains he never gets a weekend ‘off’ like he thinks I do. Sometimes I want to give him full custody so he can see what it’s like to have to parent alone 24/7 during the week.”

  Jamie wanted to say, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make things better. But he was already sending all the money he could.

  “Meanwhile,” she continued, “the kids are turning into bigger wee shits by the month. The more I do for them the less grateful they are.”

  “They’ll come right. We were massive wee shits at their age.”

  “And look how well we turned out. Teen mum and drug addict. So, aye, maybe there’s hope.”

  Jamie winced. Cheers, sis. There exploded any remaining illusions Samira might be under.

  “I love them,” Nicole added. “I do.”

  “I know.”

  He used to envy her uncomplicated life. She’d always seemed content to live well within her comfort zone, within her skill set, to work and marry and breed within a fifty-mile radius of their hometown while he was constantly pushing his boundaries too far, seeking too much, aiming too high.