The Holders

by Julianna Scott

  Once they were gone, Mom and I went to get Ryland out of the tree house, which was no easy feat. We had to assure him that the men were gone, assure him that no one was going to take him anywhere tonight, and assure him again that the scary guys were definitely gone. Finally, Mom started to threaten that if he didn’t come down he wouldn’t get any dinner. When that didn’t work, I told him that if he stayed up there much longer the raccoon would get him. That earned me a smack on the arm from Mom, but it did the job as Ry was down less than a minute later.

  And then the questions began.

  Who were those men? Why didn’t you send them away? Becca’s coming too? Where are we going? Where is Ireland? Are there other kids there? Will it be like school here? What if I don’t like it? What if they try to hurt me? Becca, are you really coming? How long will we stay there? And on and on. All through dinner and well into the evening, Mom and I sat, answering all his questions to the best of our knowledge and trying to reassure him that everything was going to be fine.

  It wasn’t until he found out that his father would not only be there, but was actually the one who had sent the men to get him in the first place, that his face changed from squinty curiosity into doe-eyed wonder.

  Ugh.

  As furious as it made me I ignored it, as my brother’s misguided admiration for the father he’d never met wasn’t something I was in the mood to deal with.

  We’d finally got him to go up to bed, and even then with Mom trying to tuck him in the questions continued to roll on.

  “Just go to sleep Ry, we’ll talk more about it in the morning, OK?”

  “I’m not tired,” he said while yawning.

  “Go to sleep.” I heard Mom walk towards the door and flip the light off. “Good night, buddy.”

  With a soft click she closed the door and walked across the hall to lean on my open door frame. “You going to bed?”

  “I don’t know. I guess.” I was tired, but didn’t really think I’d be able to sleep.

  “Want some ice cream?” Mom asked with a smile. “We’ve got Magic Shell.”

  Needing no further persuasion, I followed her down to the kitchen, and from my usual seat at the table, watched her scoop Oreo ice cream into two bowls. I tried to make it seem like I wasn’t examining her every move, but I was. She seemed far too calm. As though this had just been a normal day.

  “So,” I asked, trying my best to sound nonchalant, “You OK with all of this?”

  “Well, that’s a bit of a loaded question,” she answered, placing a bowl of ice cream and a bottle of Magic Shell on the table in front of me. “Am I happy that by the end of the week both my kids will be on a different continent?” She sat down across from me, and began absent-mindedly stabbing at her own bowl of ice cream with her spoon. “No, not at all. I am, however, overjoyed that Ryland might finally be getting the help he needs. And I am relieved that you are going with him. You’ll need to make sure you can get the time off work.”

  “I’ll only be gone for a week or two, it’s no big deal. I’m a waitress at Eat’n Park, Mom, not a brain surgeon. They’re not going to have any trouble filling my shifts.”

  “It’s still a job, which means you need to make sure it’s OK. If they say no, I’ll take Ryland myself.”

  “Um, yeah, that is so not going to happen. I’m not letting you anywhere near him.” She knew I didn’t mean Ryland.

  “I’ll do what I have to. I can’t let Ry go all that way by himself. He’s still so little…” She left her sentence hanging as she stared off into her bowl.

  “I’ll call my boss tomorrow, get the time off, and I’ll go with Ryland. No problem. I’ll take care of him, Mom.”

  She smiled up at me, and I could see the tears shining in her eyes. “I know you will, baby,” she said, squeezing my arm. “And what about school?” she asked, clearing her voice, and wiping under her eyes with her thumb. “Are you still going to try and go this spring?”

  I had been thinking about it, and while I really did want to go thus far I hadn’t been in any particular rush. Graduating high school at the top of my class at fifteen years old didn’t come without its perks. I’d been offered full scholarships to over a dozen universities, most with what they called standing acceptances, inviting me to enrol with them whenever I was ready.

  Mom hadn’t wanted me to go off at fifteen because she had worried I was too young. I agreed with her, not because I truly felt unready, but honestly, because I didn’t want to leave Ryland alone. I was terrified I’d come home for a visit one day, and he’d be gone because Mom had finally broken and let one of them get to her. Of course, I trusted Mom to take care of Ry, but I couldn’t trust the shrinks and specialists not to use her underlying guilt to break her. I had always been there to help her, and, with me gone to college, I wasn’t sure how long she would be able to last.

  Not that I could tell her that.

  When she asked me about it a few months ago I had momentarily considered starting in the fall, but had let the enrolment deadline pass accidentally-on-purpose, telling Mom I would look into starting in the spring. I’d planned on putting it off another semester, but now, if there was a chance Ryland might finally be happy – and more importantly, safe – I might actually be able to bring myself to go.

  “Yeah, but I’ll be home before then. Spring enrolment for most schools doesn’t even start until next month.”

  “All right, well stay on it this time.”

  “Mmhmm,” I said, pretending to concentrate on breaking my Magic Shell.

  “There is one more thing we need to discuss, you know.”

  I felt my stomach muscles clench as I realized where this conversation was headed. “Oh?” I said, taking a bite of ice cream, playing it cool.

  “First of all, you were completely out of line today.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” I wasn’t, but I really didn’t feel like fighting about it.

  “Secondly, you have to realize that going over there means that you will most likely run into your father.” I tensed at the word, but said nothing, as my mother was the only person I allowed to use that term in reference to him. “And I want you to promise me you will behave yourself.”

  “What fun is that?” I mumbled over a mouthful of ice cream, deciding it was better not to inform her of the deal I’d made with Alex and my intentions to avoid him entirely.

  “Becca, you really have to stop that. Just give him a chance. This could be an opportunity to get to know him.”

  “Please tell me that’s not why you are OK with all this. Because you think we’ll ‘bond with Daddy’, and all will be right with the world.”

  “No, of course not,” she sighed. “I’m OK with it because…” She paused, shaking her head. “I have to do something. We can’t pretend his problem is going to magically fix itself, and this is the first option that actually seems like it may truly be good for him. At least they don’t sound like they want to lock him away. It may not work, but at least we have to try.” She looked down into her bowl before continuing. “And yes, like it or not, your father does have a lot to do with it. I just want you to keep an open mind that’s all, for Ryland’s sake if for nothing else. He will be meeting his father for the first time, and I don’t want you painting him as a horrible monster.”

  “When have I ever done that?” I asked, more than a little offended. If there was one thing I was proud of in terms of my feelings toward Jocelyn, it was the fact that Ryland had no idea what they were. For all he knew, I was as excited as he was to be meeting our long lost Poppa.

  “You haven’t, I know, but this will be different. You have never had to keep yourself in check with Jocelyn in the same room, and you know how you can get.”

  I snorted a laugh, almost choking on my ice cream. “No throwing punches, got it.”

  “I’m serious, Becca.”

  “OK, fine, and what am I supposed to tell Ry, when his Super Dad illusions come crashing down all over the place?”


  “Maybe they won’t.” I noticed she couldn’t actually meet my eyes as she said it.

  “Of course they will! God, what is with you two! This man is not perfect! He’s not someone you should constantly be defending, and he’s certainly not someone Ryland should be looking up to!”

  As soon as I’d finished, I saw my Mom’s face sink and immediately regretted my rant. She didn’t need this from me, not tonight.

  “Anyway,” Mom said after a moment, taking advantage of my deliberate silence, “I just want you to think before you speak, OK? That’s not too much to ask, is it?”

  “No,” I mumbled not looking at her, last spoonful of ice cream still in my mouth.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” She put her hand up to her ear dramatically.

  “No.”

  “Thank you. Now, I think it’s time for bed. We can talk more in the morning, but I think we could all use some sleep.”

  “Night, Mom.” I stood and started shuffling around the table towards the stairs.

  “Good night, baby,” she said, grabbing the back of my head as I passed, kissing my forehead.

  I went upstairs, brushed my teeth, changed into my sleep-shirt and shorts, and fell over onto my bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  Ireland. I was going to Ireland. Had the situation been different, I would have been totally excited, but as it was, I wasn’t sure how I felt.

  First off there was Ryland, who might finally be getting the help he needed, but who also might actually be, well, a freak. Yeah, people had been calling him that for years, but I never considered it could be true. I was also suddenly – and stupidly – afraid to think things around him, as it turned out he might just overhear me. Pretty sure that’s not something the normal sister has to worry about. Diary reading, sure, but mind reading? That had to be new.

  Then there was Jocelyn. Normally, just thinking about him was enough to make my blood pressure go up, and now I actually had to meet with him? Maybe Mom was right to worry: I might end up decking him.

  I rolled over with a huff and yanked the covers up over my shoulder. I took a few deep breaths, trying to hone in and make use of any techniques I may have picked up from the two yoga classes I attended before quitting out of sheer boredom. I was more of a kickboxing girl. Though, as there were no punching bags handy, I would have to rely on breathing and mellow thoughts to calm me down.

  I hated him. He’d abandoned us, plain and simple, and I hated him for it. Not so much for what it had done to me personally, though that did hurt – or it used to hurt, I’d since moved past it – but more for what he’d done to Mom. She tried to hide how much it tore her up inside, but I knew. Even as a kid I could see how much it hurt her to hear his name or have him mentioned, so I stopped talking about him altogether. At night I would lie in bed and hear her crying in her room when she thought I was asleep. And even after ten years, sometimes I would still catch her looking too long at a picture, or wiping her eyes when she was sitting alone.

  It made me furious that someone could have hurt her so badly. That someone as kind, and compassionate, and amazing as my mom, had been fated to fall in love with someone as self-centered and unworthy as Jocelyn. Though I knew that none of this was her fault, which is why I usually tolerated her constant defense of him. She had always – and it seemed would always – hold him up on a pedestal, and while I didn’t like it, at least I could understand it.

  It was Ryland’s admiration of the man that made no sense to me. They had never even met. Well, I guess that’s not technically true as Jocelyn had been there when Ryland was born and spent a grand total of two weeks with him before disappearing, but as far as I was concerned, that didn’t count. Other than those two weeks, Ryland had had no contact with him whatsoever. He wouldn’t have known his own father from a stranger on the street, yet anytime Jocelyn was mentioned Ryland was enraptured. I guess I could understand a little. He was almost like the mystical Dad, out there somewhere, maybe doing astonishing deeds: fighting dragons, killing Martians, swinging over large gorges on vines – you know, Indiana Jones stuff. Ryland could still have a dream, because he didn’t know any better. He had no memories of a man who said he loved you one minute then was gone the next. He didn’t have to remember a father who used to call me mo ghile beag or “my little darling”, which was the only Gaelic I knew, only to miss ten of the seventeen birthdays I’d had so far. He didn’t know how much Mom had suffered, and still suffered, because of the man he idolized so much.

  Ryland didn’t understand. And that was why I never dispelled his Dad delusion by telling him the truth. Why do that to him? He’d figure it out on his own one day when he was older and knew a little more of the world, but until then I let him think what he wanted because it made him – and Mom – happy.

  With a sigh, I rolled into a more comfortable – and less tense – position. After all, there was no need to induce an aneurism when for all I knew I wouldn’t even have to see the man. If he really was one of the head masters, then he would probably always be busy. All I would have to do was stay out of his way. That should be easy enough.

  I closed my eyes and took another deep breath, determined to find something else to think about, preferably something that would encourage sleep, not keep me from it. I pictured the magnificent vision I’d seen in this very room earlier today: the lush green grass, the clear open sky, the rolling ocean and pounding waves… and a pair of light blue-gray eyes and blonde hair. Alex. That was a nice name… Alex.

  4

  At 8 o’clock Friday evening, Ryland and I kissed Mom goodbye for about the thirtieth time, assured her once again that we’d call every day, and that we’d be good, and countless other things we’d been assuring her for the last three days, grabbed our carry-ons, and boarded our flight to Ireland. Or, more specifically, boarded our flight to Paris, France, at which point we would board a second plane to Dublin, Ireland, after which it was a two and a half hour drive to St Brigid’s. Grand total travel time: only seventeen and a half hours.

  Yeah… only.

  Though I can admit, the first few hours of the flight went by quickly enough. I read the book and two magazines I’d brought, ate dinner, and played a few rounds of travel Scrabble with Ryland. It wasn’t until about five hours in – what would have been midnight in Pittsburgh – and barely over halfway to Paris, that I realized just how long a trip this was going to be.

  I tried to sleep, but it was no use. I was the sort of person who had to be comfortable to fall asleep, and comfort just wasn’t happening. Not that I could complain about our seats. We had actually been very lucky as the flight wasn’t anywhere near full, which meant that after takeoff we were all able to spread out. I had a two-seat row to myself, Ry had the row behind me, and Alex and Taron had the five-seat row next to us to share between them. Despite the space however, I couldn’t settle. I tried lying down, reclining my chair, leaning against the wall of the plane, crossing my arms on the tray table, and countless other configurations; nothing was comfortable for longer than a few minutes at a time. The tiny airplane pillow that was lumpy on one side and totally flat on the other wasn’t helping things either. Too bad I wasn’t more like Ryland who was sprawled out on his back, covering both seats in his row, one leg up in the air resting on the wall of the plane while his head hung off the base of the seat, dangling in what would normally be leg space. Honestly, a little turbulence and he’d be on the floor, but at least he was sleeping, which was more than I could say of myself.

  I stared absent-mindedly at the map of the Atlantic Ocean and the little cartoon plane that was supposed to represent us on the TV screen in front of me. There was a red line trailing behind the little plane showing the route and distance we’d traveled so far, and a green line in front of the plane showing the route and distance yet to go. Ryland had gotten a kick out of this and kept measuring the lengths of the two lines with his fingers as if to prove to himself that the plane was in fact moving.

  Too bad I wasn’t s
o easily amused. I didn’t want to read anymore, wasn’t interested in any of the movies that were playing, and couldn’t very well play travel games by myself, which meant there was nothing but five hours and thirty two minutes of long, empty space in front of me. All day I’d had activities and people to occupy my mind, but now, with everyone sleeping and nothing else going on, my thoughts kept drifting to the one subject I’d been consciously trying to avoid all day.

  Alex.

  After two days of sideways glances and daydreaming, I finally had to admit that I had a fairly substantial crush on this guy, and I was not about to become one of those girls who got all goofy and obsessive about a guy they barely knew. I was terrified that if I didn’t get this under control I’d end up like a character on one of those terrible reality shows that basically have no plot at all besides who’s crushing on who, who’s sleeping with who, who’s cheating on who, and so on. The day that became me, would be the day I checked into a nunnery.

  Yet, diligent as I tried to be, there wasn’t an hour that had gone by since leaving the house this morning that I hadn’t caught myself staring at him, or thinking about him, or wondering what his middle name was.

  I sat up with a groan, turned on my reading light, and took the copy of SkyMall out of the seatback pocket in front of me. If anything could distract me for a while, it was SkyMall, where you could find just about anything you could possibly want, from the perfectly practical to the unbelievably ridiculous. I was reading the description of the Portable Boot and Shoe Dryer, when someone walked up to the end of my row.

  “Can’t sleep?”

  I looked to my right and saw a man with slightly rumpled honey-blond hair, wearing jeans and a gray T-shirt grinning down at me. It was Alex. I smiled, suddenly feeling warm and jittery inside. “No, my pillow sucks. You?” I asked, keeping my voice down so as not to disturb the rest of the passengers whose pillows seemed to work better than mine. I closed the SkyMall, and shifted in my seat to face him.