Bridge of Hope

by Lisa J. Hobman

  I pulled up outside the pub and made my way over to see if I could help. James was there directing the younger men, and clearly he was having a hard time watching his cottage become nothing but a shell.

  “Now then, James. How’s it going, old pal?” I asked as I grasped the old guy’s wizened hand in a warm handshake.

  His face lit up. “Gregory, my boy. It’s good to see you. How are you keeping?”

  I shrugged. “Oh… you know, getting by.”

  His smile disappeared and he shook his head sadly. “I was so sorry to hear about your wee girl. Such a tragedy. Such a waste of a young life.” He squeezed the hand he held and patted it with his other.

  His compassion made my eyes sting.

  I cleared my throat in order to speak. “Aye, James, it certainly was.”

  “Are you coping okay? Are you getting any support?”

  His concerned gaze made my stomach knot up. Such a nice old guy.

  Nodding in what I hoped was a reassuring manner, I told him, “I’m… I’ll be fine, James. Don’t you worry about me, eh? You’ve spent years doing things for others, so go and be looked after. Enjoy your retirement, my friend.”

  The old guy pulled me into a hug. “You take care, Gregory. And someday, let yourself fall in love again, eh?”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek at his earnest words, and I nodded, unable to utter further words of my own.

  Seeing the number of helpers around the place, I figured I’d only be in the way, and so I left them to it and made my way back to the Landy.

  James’s comment about falling in love again rattled around my head. At that moment in time I felt sure that it just wasn’t possible. The tattoo scars had healed, but they were surface wounds I had inflicted upon myself. The real scars—the emotional ones—surely wouldn’t be so quick to heal. I shook my head to try and dislodge the thoughts of new love from my mind. It was time I got used to my own company again. I wasn’t sure my heart could take any more.

  Chapter Seven

  April saw the beginning of warmer weather, albeit rainy, and the eight and a half months since I’d lost Mairi still seemed like mere days to me. I still thought about her all the time and I was still plagued by the relentless nightmares. It seemed nothing was going to ease the pain except whiskey.

  There had been comings and goings down at James McLaughlan’s old place, and I was intrigued to meet the couple who’d bought it. To get the measure of them, so to speak.

  I saw the large van pull up down by the house and watched as the men began to load the furniture in. Classy stuff. The new owners liked their artwork, judging by the wrapped canvasses that were being carefully handled by the removals men. I purposefully walked Angus by the cottage, hoping to get a glimpse of the interlopers, but other than the men in work pants and logo’d T-shirts, I spotted no one.

  Typical.

  On my way past, Colin, from the shop, called me over.

  I jogged over to where he stood in the doorway of the little grocery store. “What’s up?”

  He looked frustrated. “I thought I could fix it myself, but it turns out the tap is a little more than I can maybe handle. If you get a chance, can you come and take a look?”

  “Sure thing, Col. I’m not sure when it’ll be. Can you manage for a wee while with it?”

  “I can. It’s just driving Chrissy mad with its drip-dripping.”

  I smiled. “I can imagine. Hey, do you know anything about the people who’ve bought James’s old place?”

  He scratched his head. “Not a thing. It’s all been a bit quiet over there. I see they’re moving in. I guess we’ll soon find out, eh?”

  “True enough. Right, well, I’d better get Angus home. I’m due at the pub in a while.”

  I waved and set off back to my house with Angus trotting ahead. After opening the front door and following the dog inside, I checked my appearance in the hall mirror. Faded grey T-shirt and faded jeans to go with my faded mood.

  The pub was quiet, which was a blessing. I wasn’t in the mood for being chatty. Not with strangers anyway. Ron and I had been putting the world to rights until he said something that sparked off a memory of Mairi and I sunk back into my own head again. All’s he’d said was that his granddaughter who he rarely saw was coming up to twenty-one years old and she had the most beautiful red curly hair and green eyes. That combination brought images of my girl to the forefront of my mind; her curls bouncing and her laughter ringing out through the air as I chased her along the beach before taking her in my arms. I rubbed my hands over my face as I felt the colour drain away.

  Fuck, would it ever stop?

  Would it ever get any easier?

  Ron continued trying to chat to me and show me photos of his family, of whom he was so proud, despite the distance between them; but I had no interest and my ability to converse regressed as the day went by.

  The lunchtime rush wasn’t really a rush, and I ended up spending most of the day chatting to Ron. Well, I say chatting. Grunting as he talked at me was more the case. It wasn’t his fault that I’d been having a bad couple of days. It happened every so often. Who am I kidding? It was a daily occurrence. Getting Mairi out of ma head was something I only managed to do temporarily with the help of whiskey; but I always ended up feeling like shit, so I was doing my best to just get on with life lest I stumble into alcoholism.

  Getting on with my life. Hmmm.

  Because that’s what you do isn’t it? When you lose someone. You say goodbye. You grieve and then you move on. Except I was having real trouble with that last part on account of the part before that. The fact that I’d never said goodbye. I hadn’t been able to. And that unavoidable fact still tore at my heart all these months later. The unknown was such a scary entity.

  She’d always tried to get me to go with her on her expeditions. I’d done a few climbs, but I can’t say I enjoyed them all that much. I was in no way experienced nor fit enough to go to K2.

  If I’d been there I’d be dead now too.

  Sobering thought, really.

  ~~~

  I heard the pub door creak open and slam shut and so I turned, still wiping a glass.

  Fuck.

  My heart did this funny flip in my chest and I gulped.

  She was fucking gorgeous. Long, dark, wavy hair, the sexiest curves and big, bright eyes. She smiled at me and I swear my heart stopped beating. I’d never seen a smile quite like it. Well, not since Mairi. My insides began churning and I hated that. I immediately found her attractive. But… it wasn’t the same as the way I’d found the blonde attractive recently.

  This was different.

  Not good. Not good at all.

  Too soon.

  I gritted my teeth and took a deep breath. I didn’t like my body’s response to her. The hairs at my nape stood to attention, and I could swear I felt my fucking pupils dilate. What a stupid fucking reaction. I didn’t know her from Adam, for fuck’s sake. Good thing this was a tourist area and there was a good chance she’d be gone quickly and I’d never see her again.

  I made my way over to where she’d perched herself on a bar stool, and I leaned on the bar in front of her; my arms rigid and locked. Her eyes were vivid blue and crystal clear. I could’ve fallen right in and drowned. Instead, I plastered on a surly expression. My aim was to be intimidating. Don’t ask me why. I think it was maybe a self-defence mechanism. But let’s face it, it wasn’t her fault I wanted to jump over the bar and ravage the poor woman.

  “What can I get you?” Ouch, my voice came out like a growl. She flinched a little. I felt like a complete arse.

  “Erm… can I just have a diet cola, please?” she whispered. Yep, I’d scared her.

  Well done, McBradden, you fucking moron.

  I should’ve apologised for my shitty attitude but instead I just turned and walked away like the callous bastard I’d become. I could see her watching me in my peripheral vision. Her eyes travelled up and down my body. That’s not fucking helping, lady.


  I walked back over and slammed her drink down. Idiot. What was wrong with me? Seriously? “One eighty.” Well, I might as well continue being a dick. No point giving up now, eh? I took the English five-pound note she held out and rolled my eyes. Again, idiot. They are bloody legal tender, so what’s my fucking problem? Poor lass is English, after all. Probably only just arrived and hasn’t acquired any Scottish ones yet! She held out her hand and I gave her the change.

  She cleared her throat “I-erm-that is we… are new here.” This time she sounded more confident. Her voice was kind of… musical. Beautiful. “We’ve bought one of the cottages just by the water.”

  Fuck it. So it’s you, eh? The interloper. Like a true arse, I just shrugged at her. How to make someone feel welcome in one easy step. The fact that she was here to stay did not sit well with me at all.

  She looked nervous and was fiddling with the glass. “Yeah, my fiancé and I moved up here from Yorkshire. We might become regulars in here, living so close.”

  Oh, so there’s a fiancé. Not a husband. But she’s definitely with someone. Bollocks. No… no. Good… that’s a good thing, definitely.

  “Lucky us.” Fuck! Did I just say that shitty, sarcastic comment out loud? I caught sight of her horrified expression which confirmed my fear. Yes. Yes, I did say it out loud. There was absolutely no need for me to be so cruel. The poor wee girl was just trying to be friendly. This was the first impression she was getting of the locals. She’d be selling up before the week was out. Maybe that was a good thing. She finished her drink a bit too quickly and made for the door. Ron scowled at me and followed close behind her, muttering under his breath and shaking his head. I heard my name in amongst the expletives and gave him an apologetic look. But his glare told me I was in for it later.

  Oh joy.

  ~~~

  Deciding I needed some fresh air, I grabbed Rhiannon and went out the back. It wasn’t my usual place. I preferred the view of the stone bridge from the front but being out the back was probably safer. The dark-haired beauty’s fiancé couldn’t come and kick my head in out here. Not that I was scared of him. Or anyone, for that matter. I just didn’t feel in the mood for fighting. Least of all when I knew I deserved a good beating for my attitude toward her.

  I began to strum away in the hope that my cares would melt into the guitar strings. “I Don’t Want to Know” by Fleetwood Mac came to mind and so that’s what I began to play. I closed my eyes as I often did when I played. When I opened them, Stella was standing in front of me, smiling. She raised her eyebrows.

  I turned my mouth up in response and shook my head. “Caught me again, eh?”

  “I love a bit of Fleetwood Mac.”

  “Yeah, me too. Look… Rhiannon needs some work. I’m going to drop her into the shop tomorrow but after that… well, I’ll give it a go, okay?” As soon as the words fell haphazardly from my mouth, I realised I hadn’t really thought it through. I’d acted on a bit of a whim. Stupid fuck! But it was too late. I’d said it. As the sentence repeated over in my head, my heart pounded and the enormity of what I’d just agreed to do slapped me around the face. No going back now.

  Stella clapped her hands in front of her face like a kid in a sweetshop. “Oh, that’s wonderful! I’m so pleased, Gregory.”

  “Yeah, well, I’d reserve judgement until I’ve done it if I were you. I might scare the customers away yet.”

  “I seriously doubt that, hen.”

  “We’ll see, eh?”

  With a face-splitting grin like she’d won the fucking lottery, she turned and skipped back inside. I followed soon after to get back to work.

  ~~~

  Ron came back early that evening. As soon as he glowered at me from the doorway, I knew I was in for it.

  “Now, Gregory, I know that you have had a terrible, terrible year. But the look on that wee lassie’s face when you were so horrid… I have to say, Gregory, I was ashamed of you. I was ashamed to know you. She seems like a lovely, sweet young lassie, and you treated her as if she’d robbed your granny!”

  My stomach knotted and twisted with guilt. Of course he was right, and I hadn’t been able to get it out ma head all day despite the guitar playing. And I couldn’t eat my lunch, which is not like me.

  “Don’t, Ron. I feel like shit about it already. I’ll go away over tomorrow and take them some wine or something as a housewarming. I’ll apologise… I’ll explain.” I rubbed my hand through my hair as the moths in my stomach took flight at the thought of facing her. I’d say butterflies, but they’re too pretty to be residing in my guts. There was the distinct possibility that her man would punch me on the nose.

  I couldn’t blame him if he did, but I had to at least try to make amends for my shitty behaviour. Maybe seeing them together would help to stop the stupid feelings she’d evoked in me. I could only hope.

  The rain was hammering down outside. My walk with Angus later was going to be a soggy one. The door opened and some brave soul out walking came in for shelter. The drenched person rubbed a hand over her face and her hood fell off.

  It was her.

  I swallowed hard, waiting for her man to follow her in and look for me. He didn’t arrive and I breathed a sigh of relief. When she glanced over at me, I had this ridiculous urge to run over and hug her. She looked so damned bloody cute. The makeup around her eyes had run all down her face. She could’ve given Gene Simmons a run for his money. Bless her. She began to walk toward me and I had to stifle a laugh.

  Something flashed in her eyes. “Oy! I don’t know what your problem is, matey, but I tried to be friendly earlier, only to receive the least warm reception I have ever had the displeasure to encounter from a barkeep, and now I walk over here in the pouring rain for you to laugh at me? Well, I would very much like to borrow your public telephone and then you can get stuffed and I won’t be bothering you again!” Her Yorkshire accent sounded harsh, broader than it had been earlier, and her tone was venomous.

  I felt about two inches tall. Everyone in the place was looking first at her and then at me for my reaction. I couldn’t look at her anymore. I dropped my gaze. In all honesty, I felt ashamed. She certainly wasn’t a nervous, cute wee girl anymore. No, she told me good and proper. And she was right; I had treated her badly. The way she called me a barkeep stung a bit though. It came out like an insult. I guess I really deserved it.

  The payphone had been reported broken a couple of days before when someone had tried to cram an old ten-pence piece into the slot, rendering it useless.

  I peered around the pub and people awkwardly got back to their conversations.

  “Public phone isn’t working. You’ll have to come through to the back and use the private one,” I told her, and without making eye contact, I lifted the bar so she could come through. She followed me into the back hallway. I nodded toward the closed door before us, suddenly feeling the urge to reach out and squeeze her shoulder or make some small gesture of kindness. “There you go. And you might want to look in a mirror before you come back through.” I walked away and left her.

  Ron sat with his arms folded across his chest. He didn’t need to tell me what he was thinking… but he did anyway. “You deserved every word of that tongue-lashing, Gregory… every blessed word.”

  I grimaced in frustration with the old guy. “Just drop it, Ron, eh?”

  He didn’t.

  Instead he pointed a stubby old finger at me. “If I were you, I would be waiting for her and apologise properly before she leaves and gets her gentleman friend to knock your spots off.”

  I huffed and rubbed my hands over my face. Once again he was fucking right. I rolled my eyes like an errant teenager and went back through to wait for her. She came out of the bathroom and I smiled, trying my best to be nice. She’d cleaned the streaks of black from her face and was back to be fucking beautiful again.

  Still smiling, I plucked up my courage. “So you’re a Yorkshire lass, eh?”

  She scowled at me. “That’s wh
at I said.”

  Okay… she wasn’t going to make it easy for me. “I have friends in York,” I told her, fuck knows why. She smiled… my heart melted and I smiled back. I pushed myself off the wall and stood in front of her. “Look, I’m sorry for being an arsehole earlier.” Watch the fucking language, you stupid shit. “I’ve been having a shitty time of it lately but I had no place being like that.” Fuck… language! I cringed.

  She pursed her lips. “Don’t worry about it. We’re not friends. You don’t have to explain yourself.” She stood there, arms folded, glaring at me. Still looking fucking hot. I gulped.

  “Oh, okay. Yes, I get it. That’s fine, then, I’ll be getting back to the bar.” I felt like crap. She’d actually hurt me. I’d tried but she’d shot me down in flames. This gorgeous, engaged-to-be-married Yorkshire lass had really hurt me. How did I come back from that? I didn’t think I had a chance.

  She watched me expectantly, but when I didn’t say anything further, she stormed off through the bar and out the door into the rainy night. As I watched her retreating form, I was overcome with regret. If I hadn’t been such a bastard, she and I could’ve maybe been friends. Well, I’d ruined that now.

  Chapter Eight

  The next day I was out with Angus, and I saw Colin and Christine standing outside the shop chatting to Ron. I thought about going over, but it looked like they were having some sort of witches’ coven meeting and so I decided to bypass them and get on my way. I was trying to calculate what I would say when I went over to see the Yorkshire lass and her bloke. I owed them an apology.

  “Greg!” Christine shouted. I glanced over and she motioned to me to join them. Taking a much-needed deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face and made my way over.

  “Mornin’ all,” I said as breezily as I could manage.

  “Have you heard the terrible, terrible news?” Christine asked, wiping at her eyes. Fuck. What had happened?

  I shook my head. “What terrible news? What’s happened?”