'Why wouldn't I? You're a very wantable man.'
'I thought you might have slept with me out of pity, because you felt sorry for me or because you thought I was…am, such a pathetic waste of time, and you thought it would cheer me up.'
'You can stop right there,' she said, knocking her head back against the headrest.
'I'm sorry,' he said, 'but I couldn't think of any other plausible reason.'
'Then obviously you don't know me at all. If you could entertain the notion that for ONE minute I would do something like that...'
'I'm sorry.'
She screwed her eyes tightly closed and clenched her teeth. '...and if you say you're sorry one more time, Nathaniel Mackie…I shall scream until your ears bleed.'
There were a few moments of terse silence before he spoke again. 'I have a lot to thank you for, Meg.'
'Whatever it is, I didn't do it for gratitude,' she said, stiffly.
'No I'm sure you didn't, but I want to do it anyhow.' He ran his hands over the smooth leather of the steering wheel.
'I want to thank you for being there when I needed you and for coming to me and staying with me. You didn't have to, but you did. It was the worst possible time and you helped me deal with it. I came out the other side unscathed but without you, I don't know what might have happened. You might even have saved my life.'
'Oh, no, Nat…'
'Let me finish. When I lost Joanna, a deep, dark hole was gouged in me, right down my very soul. The edges of it were all jagged and torn and it hurt so much. At first, I only wanted to throw myself into it and let it swallow me up and rip me to pieces and let there be an end to it all, but I was too much of a coward, too afraid of what was in there. I still am. I know it's still there, waiting for me to weaken and fall. Over the last few months I've felt myself slipping towards it again and I know if I fall in, that will be it. I won't be able to get out. Do you know what saved me from it? You did. You came along and grabbed me by the collar and dragged me away from the edge. You held on and you would not let go. I want you to keep holding on Meg, because I don't want to fall.'
Such profound sadness filled his voice that she felt compelled to reach for his hand. She took it and gripped it firmly.
When you look long into the abyss, the abyss looks into you, she thought. 'I won't let you fall, Nat. Whatever happens, I will never let you fall.'
'You've always put me before yourself, Meg, always,' he said. 'You looked after me since day one, without…' He coughed gently. '…too much complaint. You've done everything for me, and you deserve so much more. I never thought to give you anything to show my appreciation of you.'
She squeezed his hand. 'I don't want anything from you. I'm sure I'll get my just reward when the time comes.' She turned her eyes toward Heaven and gave him a small smile.
He leaned back against the headrest and closed his eyes. After a couple of minutes, she heard him sigh deeply.
'Spit it out,' she said.
'What?'
'Whatever it is that's on you mind. Get it out in the open and then we can stamp on it.'
'I've just been considering what it might be that makes me the way I am.'
'We've been over this before.'
'I know, but I think the answer might be simpler.'
She rolled her eyes and sighed. 'Go on then, get it off your chest.'
'I think it's because I'm not a very likeable person. In fact, come to think of it, I might be somewhat... objectionable.'
'Of course you're not. What a stupid thing to say.'
'It's true. Why else would everything I touch turn to crap? My business is going down the pan, all my relationships are finished, friendships are spoiled. I ruin them all. It must be me. It has to be. I can trust you to tell the truth can't I, Meg? You can tell me.'
She groaned. 'Once you get past your little foibles, you're very nice and very likeable.'
'Foibles? What are they when they are at home?'
'It's a fancy name for petty little things which annoy intensely; those minor irritating shortcomings that you have by the bucketload. If you can spare the time, I'll list them for you...'
'Please, feel free. Be brutally honest. You always have been before, don't stop now.'
'Okay. First off, apart from your normal state of argumentative unreasonableness, when you've had too much to drink it brings out a propensity to be snippy, obstreperous and cantankerous. When you don't get your own way you get petulant, stroppy and short tempered, otherwise known as being childish and when you are tired that's when the cranky and tetchy kick in...'
'I think that's enough,' he said, holding up his hand to halt the flow of criticisms. 'I'm beginning to get the picture.'
'I haven't finished yet. Apart from that little assortment, you can also be selfish, rude, obtrusive and completely irascible.'
His frown returned. 'If that's what you really think of me, and if I'm so bloody awful to be around, why did you bother to stay with me for so long?'
'Because, on the whole, as grouchy middle-aged blokes go, you're okay, and I know that buried underneath all that foul-mouthed crabbiness and bad temper, like the layers of an onion, there's a lovely man bursting to get out. And also...' She put her hands on his face and pulled him close as if to impart a secret. '...because I love you.'
Nat's eyes widened and he stared at her, agog. His mouth moved, but no words came out. 'You love me?' he forced out in a breathy whisper.
'Of course I do. Don't tell me you didn't know.'
The news had come as a revelation. It showed on his face. 'No, I didn't.' He took her hands and held them, prayer like, in front of him. 'Sin…since when…how long?'
'Since almost the first day I met you.' She searched his eyes. 'You really didn't know?'
Nat shook his head. 'No…I didn't.'
She grinned. 'Crikey! I thought it was painfully obvious. I can't believe even you could be that dense.'
'It wasn't…I must be…I am.'
'Why else do you think I was able to put up with you and your foolishness?'
He gripped her hands tightly and she could feel him trembling.
'I…I thought you might just like me a wee bit,' he said, his voice quiet and shaky. 'And…and I hoped you might want to stay a good friend, but I never imagined…not for a minute you…you could ever…um…' He broke his hands free, and got out of the car, walking quickly away toward a set of picnic tables and benches. Megan, startled, scrambled out of the vehicle after him.
'Nat!' she called, and ran to catch up with him. As she reached him, he turned his back to her. She put herself in front of him and could see tears standing in his eyes. 'What did I do, Nat? What did I say?'
He used the sleeve of his coat to wipe his eyes. 'You said you love me.'
'I do and I thought you might be pleased to hear it. Are you not?'
'You love me?'
She nodded emphatically. 'Yes.'
'But you can't.'
'And why the hell not?'
He placed his hands firmly on her shoulders. 'Because you know what I'm like. You already know I'm a hopeless, pathetic, drink sodden wreck, and now you've just added all those whatchamacallits, how could you possibly love me? I'll be the ruination of you.'
'I am perfectly aware of what you're like and I also know that any wreck can be salvaged given enough time and patience...and love.'
He threw up his hands and wheeled away. 'Hell's teeth woman, why me when you could do so much better!'
'I don't think there is better.'
'No, Meg…I'm not worth it.'
Her hands went to his face and held it. 'Yes. You. Are.'
She emphasised the words so indomitably, he had to believe her. She loved him, she really did, and he wasn't going to give her the slightest chance of changing her mind. He gathered her up in a strong hug and with a passion gathered from the very depths of his heart, he kissed her. And then his newly built house of joy all came tumbling down...
'Oh God!' he cried
and broke away from her to drop onto the nearest picnic bench, his elbows propped on his knees and his face covered with his hands.
'Nat! What is it?'
He rocked his head slowly from side to side. She sat on the bench beside him, taking a hold of his wrist. 'What's the matter, Nat? What's wrong? You're scaring me. Won't you please look at me?'
She tugged his hand away from his face and reluctantly he turned toward her and their eyes met. Her gaze was intense, as if she were looking inside him and reading him and he could not look away. She narrowed her eyes. 'Oh, Nat, what have you done?'
He brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and she started at his touch. 'Your hands are cold,' she said, taking them in hers and rubbing them briskly to warm them. She then opened her coat and pulled them inside where he found a comfortable resting place for them at her waist. 'Tell me what you've done,' she said.
'What makes you think I've done anything?'
'You don't react like that just because you remember you haven't paid the milk bill. Tell me.'
'Oh Meg,' he sighed. 'I wish I'd known how you felt…about me and...and if only I'd known we were going to meet today, and you were going to say what you said...I would have waited…'
'And you accuse me of being a bletherer. You're not making any sense. Slow down and start again.'
He took in a deep breath, and with his eyes lowered, dropped the bombshell on her. 'What would you say if I told you I was selling the Lodge and moving out of Kirkton?'
A cold shiver ran through her, from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes.
'That's where I was before I met you in the café. The business I mentioned, I was seeing the agent. He says I can get a quick sale and a good price. I've had it in mind to move closer to the city, to get a smaller place, a cottage maybe; something cosy. I don't need all that space at Struan. It's wasted on just me. I'm rattling around in it like a pea in a drum. I'm going to sell the land too…and the guns…and the car. It should free up a fair pot of cash and make living a little less…stressful.'
'I see,' she said. 'You've obviously planned all this very carefully?'
'I should have done it years ago.'
'Why didn't you?'
'Because it's Joanna's house and she loved it so. There are so many memories there. Not all good ones, of course...'
'And you didn't want to leave her...or them?'
'No.'
'And now?'
He met her eyes again. 'I think I can.'
'What made you change your mind?'
'You did.'
'Me?'
'Aye. You brought me to my senses and made me realise that Joanna really is gone and it's alright to let go and move on and start again.'
'And suppose we hadn't met today, were you going to tell me or just sneak away like a dog in the night?'
He hung his head. 'I would have taken the easy option and just packed up and gone.'
'Without so much as a goodbye?'
'I never expected to see you again, Meg and…I never even considered you would be interested in me beyond just being a friend.'
'Even friends deserve to know when other friends are moving away.' She put her hands inside her coat and onto his, pressing them against her. 'I love you, Nat, and I don't want you to go.'
'I have to.'
'Why?'
'Because time's running out for me. I want to make the most of what's left to me. I'm going to sell the business and take early retirement. I'm going to take up golf again…and fishing, and I'm going to travel to see all those wonderful things that are out there, and...' He withdrew his hands from the warmth of her coat, placed them in the crook of her neck and held it firmly. 'And I want you there with me, Meg. Everywhere I go, everything I do, in my house, my bed, my life, my future, I want you there by my side. I love you Just Megan and I want you.'
'Stop it, Nat. You're getting carried away. You don't know what you're saying.'
'Oh yes I do and I've never been so certain of anything in my life. I didn't think I could ever allow myself fall in love with anyone again, or even if I should, and it took me a long time to realise that I already had and now I know that I love you more than my own life. 'Anticipating her opening her mouth to argue, he put his fingers to her lips. 'For once in your life, woman, don't argue. Just do as you're told.'
She looked deep into his eyes and could not doubt the sincerity of his speech. A large wet tear welled up in her eye. Too proud to shed it herself, it took it on itself to spill over and roll down her cheek. Nat brushed it away with his fingertip, freeing her to speak at last.
'You bastard. Look what you did. You made me cry. I hate it when I cry. It's not a good look for me. It makes my mascara run…' She struck him in the chest with the flat of her hand.
He pulled her to him and she leaned against him. 'You have done such a wonderful job taking care of me,' he said, his lips pressed against her forehead. 'Let me take care of you now…if I can.'
The sun clouded over, and the rain which had seemed so distant a few minutes before, reached them, forcing them to abandon their embrace and head back into the car.
Once inside he said, 'Can you give me one day, Meg. There are some things - something in particular - I need to take care of…and then I'll call you. I promise. Can you be a wee bit patient?'
She agreed that she could and he kissed her cheek. He drove her home to Rose Cottage, and dropped her off at the front gate. When he pulled away to drive towards Struan, he was already deep in thought.
Chapter 28
Rebecca had left him a sandwich for his lunch. He bolted it down, along with a mug of tea, before retreating into his study to pass the rest of the afternoon analysing the information from the estate agent and considered their meeting.
'What would be a fair asking price?' had been his opening question.
The agent had been encouraging. 'Considering the state of the market, somewhere in the region of three quarters of a million should be about right.'
'And how soon would it sell?'
'It's hard to say exactly, but a beautiful house like yours in such splendid condition, probably quite quickly. No matter how tough things get, you can be sure there's always someone looking for a substantial property in a rural location.'
He went online and looked at other agents, checking out similar properties on the market. What he'd been told seemed fair. He made a call back to the agent and told them to go ahead, he wanted to sell…and as quickly as possible.
After Rebecca had gone home and the daylight began to fade, Nat went from room to room opening doors and putting on all the lights.
Standing in the hallway, the heart of the house where everything came together, he could see into all the rooms - the sitting room, the kitchen, the study and the dining room through to the conservatory. He followed the curve of the sweeping staircase to the landing above and he looked up at the large chandelier, hanging like a giant icicle from the hall ceiling.
As he looked around, he imagined what it would be like not living there any more. It wasn't as hard as he thought it might be. He didn't love the house any more. He had, when he had first moved in there with Joanna and their plans for the future, but not any more.
They had spent more than they could afford buying and furnishing their home, but now, if the truth be told, he could gladly walk away from it and throw the keys into the river. In that moment, he knew he had made the right decision to sell.
Seven years of his life he had spent here, seven long years, five of them on his own. He had company if he wanted it during most days, but the nights, with the exception of a few he would rather not think about, he had spent alone.
The prospect of facing the dark and empty loneliness of an empty bed in the wee small hours of the morning was too much to bear. He didn't want to spend the rest of his life by himself. He wanted to share whatever time he had left with the woman he loved.
But, would she want to spend hers with him? He had already declared
his willingness to share his life and possessions with her, but she had not, in so many words, accepted. What if she decided he was going to be too much of a burden and she couldn't love him after all? She might cast him aside like an old sock. What would he do then? The answer to that was simple - he would rather die. But if he didn't ask, he would never know. Was her rejection a risk worth taking? He decided it was. He would ask her tomorrow, when he had done what he had to do.
He went round and turned off the lights, plunging the house back into dim quiet. He returned to the kitchen to see what Rebecca had left him for his evening meal. It looked like beef stew and vegetables and it smelled good. He ate it at the kitchen table in the quiet company of the radio, whilst studying the property pages of the county paper. With a pencil, he circled some properties that captured his interest.
Ensconcing himself in the study after his meal, he settled down in the chair. He stretched out, his feet up on the footstool, switched on the TV and sipped at his beer.
He rested the bottle on the arm of the chair. Condensation dripped from it and added yet another blemish to the soft brown leather.
He loved his chair. He loved its feel and its smell. He loved how it was almost worn bare in areas that matched where parts of him touched it. He loved where the arms had been rubbed pale and shiny by his elbows and the indentation in the back where his head had rested over the years. He loved the seat, pummelled into glorious softness by the innumerable times his backside had dropped onto it. It had lost most of its firmness, now moulding itself to him when he sat on it. Whatever had happened in his life, in that house, the chair had been there, reliable and faithful.
He recalled some of the things it had been witness to…his making love to Joanna; his crying his heart out at her loss; his sitting with the barrel of a loaded shotgun in his mouth and, unable to bring himself to pull the trigger and join his beloved, drinking himself into an alcoholic stupor that lasted for three days and nights. If only the chair could talk…
He tried to remember how long he had had it. Was it fifteen or twenty years now?
'You're going to die in that chair,' Megan had said to him.
Saving Nathaniel Page 21
