Bridge of Hope

by Lisa J. Hobman

  I took the stairs two at a time, leaving her standing in my kitchen—probably wondering why I’d just bolted. I entered the bathroom and closed the door behind me. Standing before the mirror, I rolled my eyes at my reflection which confirmed that I was indeed wearing an oil stripe across my nose and under both eyes a la Adam Ant from the eighties. I emptied half a tub of face wash into my hand and scrubbed at the oil marks, turning my face pink in the process. Once I’d dried my face, I hurried into the bedroom, hopping around on one leg to remove the soggy jeans that were plastered in place. I quickly ran the towel around my thighs so that getting dry jeans on would be easier and grabbed a clean T-shirt from the drawer. I made my way back down the stairs, rubbing at my hair as I walked.

  “So, good time?” I asked her as I pulled my shirt on.

  “Brilliant,” she replied.

  “Make any new friends out there?” Translation: Meet any men out there who you fancied?

  “Yes, quite a few, actually. I even got asked out.” Her cheeks turned pink and she looked embarrassed. My heart jumped in my chest liked a bloody excited puppy. Of course other men found her attractive. Who wouldn’t?

  I watched as she fiddled with her fingernails. “Why do you sound surprised?”

  Her brow creased. “Oh, I don’t know. It was nice. I’d forgotten what it was like to be asked out.”

  “So, did you go?” I didn’t really want to know the answer and realised my frown was mirroring hers. I turned and walked back through to the kitchen to re-boil the kettle.

  “No, he wasn’t my type.”

  I turned to face her again. “Oh, right. Do you have a type, then?” Now this answer was one I did want to hear.

  She shrugged and tucked her hair behind her ear. “I didn’t think so. But anyway, he wasn’t it, that’s for sure. Too… oh, I don’t know. I just didn’t fancy him.”

  I shook my head. So that’s how to avoid giving a real answer, eh? I decided to change the subject. “I’ve something to ask you, anyways.” I poured boiling water into the mugs in front of me and added milk, handing one to her.

  “Oh yeah? What’s that, then?” She took a sip and yelped.

  “Too eager! I made it with hot water and everything, you know.” I couldn’t help teasing.

  She rolled her eyes. “Ha-ha.”

  “Anyway. It’s my birthday next weekend and I thought we could maybe have that beach barbie we’d talked about for your birthday.” Please say yes. “I know that was just a ruse to get you to cheer up whilst I was planning your actual birthday, but I do quite fancy it.”

  She pursed her lips for a second and then smiled. “Oooh, thirty-eight then, eh? Barbeque sounds good. Who shall we invite to come along?”

  Yes! I mentally fist bumped the air. I shrugged off her question about guests and told her I’d sort it out. We chatted a bit more about general shit and she enquired about my car and I asked about her time away. She lit up as she spoke and I could see that she’d benefitted from her break in Canada.

  Then she told me about a memorial service they’d had at Sam’s parents’ home.

  “All his friends were there. They said some amazing things about him. We all wore bright colours and released lanterns. It was really beautiful.”

  It sounded beautiful and very touching. I nodded, suddenly feeling sad and a little envious of Sam; it was more than evident how much she still loved him. “Sounds great. Did it help you? You know, to be around his friends and family?”

  The smile on her face gave me my answer. “Definitely. I felt like I said a proper goodbye. Not like at the cremation where I was so numb I couldn’t even cry.” She dropped her gaze to the contents of her mug as a look of sadness pulled at her features.

  “Must have been lovely.” My voice came out as a whisper and I realised I had a stinging sensation behind my eyes.

  After a pause she lifted her gaze to meet mine once again. “Hey, how would you feel about doing something similar for Mairi?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, we could get a few friends together and say a few words and maybe release balloons or lanterns for her?”

  I really wasn’t keen on having people around me. Despite keeping in touch with Mairi’s parents by phone, we didn’t really get along. I told her this, and the fact that Mairi’s friends had done a climb in memory of her already. There really wasn’t anyone to invite even if I’d wanted to.

  She took a step toward me, and her expression told me she was fighting with her emotions. I didn’t want her pity and I bristled a little.

  She shrugged. “Well, okay, you and I could do it.”

  Huh? Wow. I’d got her all wrong. Again. “You’d do that… for me?”

  A sweet smile arched her full lips. “I would… of course.”

  “When could we do it? You and me? And where?” Okay, I was on board. The two of us. Candle lanterns. A proper goodbye for Mairi. Absolutely. And this time it would mean something for me. Unlike the one her friends held.

  “Whenever and wherever you feel ready,” she said.

  “How about on my birthday?” I smiled, filled with hope. It was a lovely idea and I wanted to hug her. But I didn’t dare move.

  “That’s fine by me.”

  I was grinning like an idiot and I didn’t care. I hadn’t had a friend to suggest something like this until now, and for some reason the little ceremony sounded perfect. Cathartic somehow. Maybe the nightmares would stop. “Great. I’ll just write a few words and we’ll get some lanterns to release. Leave it with me. You can speak too if you like.”

  “Hang on, though. Wouldn’t you prefer to have your friends at your birthday? Maybe the memorial should wait until after you’ve celebrated.”

  Stepping toward her, I placed my hand on her shoulder and gazed into her mesmerising, clear blue eyes. “Mallory, you are my friends. The only friend who understands and the only friend I’m that bothered about spending my birthday with, anyway. It’s fine.”

  “Okay, lovely. I’ll start planning when I get home.” She took a long pull of her coffee. “So what have you been up to whilst I’ve been away?”

  I shrugged and shook my head. “Not much. Been working mostly.” And thinking about you. Oh, and having sex dreams about you too. And crying… yeah I’ve even cried over you. Thankfully those thoughts didn’t become words, but I glanced up at Mallory, whose head was cocked to one side quizzically. She’d obviously been watching my expression change as my train of thought veered off the tracks and plummeted down a ravine. I shook my head to dislodge the thoughts and smiled.

  She breathed in loudly and returned the smile before fumbling around in her pocket and pulling out a little white bag. “Right. Well, I’ll get Ruby home, then. Thanks again for looking after her. I really appreciate it. Oh… I brought you this. It’s not much. But I saw it and… well… thought of you.”

  I reached out and took the bag from her hand. Opening it, I pulled out a plaited leather wristband with a little silver tree charm hanging from it. There’s that stinging sensation again. Wimp.

  I swallowed and cleared my throat. “Thank you, Mallory. It’s… it’s beautiful.”

  Her cheeks coloured and she chewed the inside of her lower lip. “It’s not much. Just a little thank-you. It’s the tree of life. I figured we’d both had enough death in our lives.”

  She tugged at her sleeve and I noticed she was wearing an identical bracelet, but hers was purple leather. I know it probably sounds very girly and very silly, but the fact that we owned matching bracelets made me feel a little warm and fuzzy. What can I say? She obviously brought the romantic out in me regardless of how pointless it was to feel that way.

  We shared an awkward silence and I gave her a stiff hug before she said goodbye and led Ruby out to her car.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  A couple of days later I was due to play at the pub again. Mallory was working and I’d decided to wear the new shirt I’d bought in Oban. It was white wi
th a squiggly pattern that Stella later told me was called paisley. Look, I’m no fashion… wotsit… guru… expert thingy, alright? Anyway, I wanted to look nice. Not for Mallory, obviously. Okay, not just for Mallory.

  Okay, for Mallory.

  Speaking of the Yorkshire lass, she was behind the bar when I arrived and so I went over to say hi. She was wearing a grey dress that wrapped around her body and enhanced her cleavage but without looking slutty. She never looked slutty. Always very classy and sexy and never over the top.

  She placed a pint of Coke in front of me and smiled. “Looking very smart this evening, Mr McBradden.”

  “Why thank you, lassie. You don’t look too shabby yourself,” I replied in my best Sean Connery voice. It made her giggle.

  She glanced down at the dress that hugged each curve delectably and I almost moaned as I watched her smooth it down her body as she smiled. “What, this old thing?”

  I shook my head and took a swig of my drink. “Actually, now you come to mention it, maybe you do look a bit shabby.” I winked and she threw a damp bar towel at me. Luckily it narrowly missed my chest. “Oy! New shirt, Westerman!”

  She pulled out her tongue at me and of course it made me laugh. “So, what are you singing tonight?”

  I crumpled my nose. “Aw, nothing you’ll have heard of. You’re only a wee one.”

  Placing her hands on her hips, she pursed her lips for a moment. “An eight-year age gap does not make me less of an expert in music. Try me.”

  I loved her feisty side. “Okay… I’m going to do a little number by a guy called Jeff Buckley. The song is ‘Hallelujah’,” I told her, folding my arms across my chest and feeling sure she wouldn’t have a clue who he was.

  “Funny that. Grace is one of my favourite CDs of all time,” she said with raised eyebrows.

  Fuck, could she get any more perfect? “Okay. I’m doing ‘Is This Love’ by Whitesnake.” Surely she won’t know them.

  “Hmmm, I used to have a poster of David Coverdale. My dad liked them and Deep Purple. And Rainbow, actually.”

  Oh. My. God. See… perfect.

  I opened and closed my mouth like the goldfish I seemed to impersonate regularly lately, and she smiled smugly.

  “Yeah… well… whatever,” I retorted like a pathetic schoolboy.

  Throwing her head back, she roared with laughter, clearly knowing she’d won and that I’d given up trying to best her. I couldn’t help laughing too. She had the best laugh, after all, and it just happened to be bloody contagious.

  I walked over and took my place behind the mic. I began my set and for once the crowd in the pub was very well behaved and not singing along… much. Every so often I glanced over and saw Mallory jigging up and down and mouthing the words as she dried glasses or pulled pints. Why did such a simple thing give me the fucking warm and fuzzies?

  I began to play the opening chords of “Is This Love” and closed my eyes. Some may not have liked eighties rock with the hair spray and lip gloss that went with it, but some of the songs were really good. I’d been a sucker for Bon Jovi and Def Leppard in my younger days; my tastes had expanded, but there was always room in my heart for a bit of gravel and guitar. I opened my eyes and made an effort not to look over at Mallory in case she thought I was aiming the lyrics at her again.

  Call me paranoid.

  But when I sneaked a glance, I caught her out of my eye corner, leaning on the bar, staring in my direction with a faraway look in her eyes. When the song ended and the room erupted in applause, she almost jumped out of her skin. I smiled over at her and she joined in the applause, clapping her hands above her head.

  Beautiful, talented, great taste in music, and the sexiest curves I’d ever seen. I really was not helping myself.

  At the end of the gig I walked her over to her cottage and we chatted about the night and which songs were her favourites.

  When we reached her front door, she jangled the keys in her hand. “Want to come in for coffee?” she asked. My heart screamed, Yes, yes, I want to come in, scoop you up in my arms, and kiss every inch of you. Where the fuck did that come from?

  But thankfully my head was in charge—the one on my shoulders, that is—and so I shook my head, mock shivered, and pulled a face. “Eww! No thanks. Did you not know you make the worst coffee ever?”

  She gasped, scrunched her brow, and slapped my arm. Hard. “Cheeky sod!” she squeaked.

  I rubbed the sore patch on my bicep. “Ow! Look, friends should be honest with each other,” I told her with a playful smirk.

  “Yeah? Well, you can’t sing.”

  I grabbed my chest as if she’d shot me and staggered back. Then I righted myself and shook my head. Wagging my finger at her, I said, “Now you know that’s a lie, Miss Westerman.” She pulled her tongue out at me again and turned to open her door. Whilst she had her back to me I leaned in close and whispered in her ear, “You know it’s rude to pull out your tongue, don’t you? And you do it rather a lot. You’re so bad, I should take you over my knee.” I was kidding around, but as soon as the words left my mouth, my first thought was Oh fuck that was stupid.

  She shivered and turned to face me. Her eyes widened when she realised how close I was. I immediately stepped back and rubbed the back of my neck with my hand, chewing my lip at the same time. “Sorry. I… I was just messing about.”

  Her lips turned up into a smile. “I’ll let you off. See you Saturday?”

  “Absolutely. See you Saturday. Night, Mallory.” I turned and headed back up the lane and it took all my willpower not to punch myself in the face for such an idiotic move. How to fucking ruin a friendship in one easy step. Make a sweet girl like Mallory think you’re into fucking kinky shit like spanking. Clever.

  “Greg!” her voice echoed through the night air and I flinched. She was going to cancel Saturday. Shitty, shit fuck!

  I stopped and turned around. “Yeah?”

  “It was a lie. You can sing, and you were brilliant tonight,” she called.

  A huge grin made its way slowly across my face and I shook my head, turned, and carried on walking, lifting my hand in a salute as I strode away. My heart skipped and my stomach twisted.

  Bang went any hopes of not dreaming about her now.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  By Saturday I was a nervous wreck. I was looking forward to seeing Mallory but the prospect of being upset in front of her didn’t fill me with glee. And there was no doubt that I would get emotional, seeing as this was supposed to be both my birthday celebration and my official goodbye to Mairi. I questioned my sanity over agreeing to do such a thing,

  1) on my birthday, and

  2) with Mallory—the woman I clearly was in lust with.

  The weather was being kind and I was almost pissed off at the fact. At least if it’d been pissing down rain, I would’ve had a good reason for backing out. But instead I donned my khakis and a shirt, grabbed my sunnies, and headed out the door to call on my friend.

  Mallory opened the door with a wide smile on her face, and my breath caught in my throat. I cursed myself inwardly as my whole body reacted to the sight of her standing there in black trousers that apparently loved her curves as much as I did, judging by the way they caressed her. On top she wore a bluey-green long-sleeved top that accentuated the curve of her full breasts. I really will have to stop thinking like this.

  “Oooh,” she said as she slipped into a black denim jacket, “I’ve been looking forward to this all day, Greg.”

  “Yeah, me too,” I lied.

  “Come on, then. Let’s get going whilst the weather’s nice. You never can tell around here. It seems it can turn at a moment’s notice.” She seemed giddy and my mood began calming too, the nerves dissipating.

  We loaded up the Landy and climbed in. I drove us the short distance to the beach and parked up. We carried the barbeque and supplies down onto the sand, which thankfully was empty apart from the two of us, and Mallory laid out the blanket whilst I lit the coals. I pl
onked myself down beside her and frowned as she handed me a small package wrapped in brown paper that had gold stars printed on it. I was absolutely bloody floored by the amount of thought she put into gifts and the fact that she was creative enough to make her own wrapping.

  “Awww, Mallory, what’s this, eh? You didn’t have to go and get me a gift, you daft lassie.” I smiled though, secretly excited; I’d thought birthday gifts were a thing of the past now that Mairi was gone. I tore off the paper and read aloud the wording, “True friends are hard to find, thank goodness I found you.” My eyes became blurry as saltwater began to well in them. Another familiar occurrence lately. My lip trembled and I kind of lurched forward at her, grappling her into my arms, holding on for dear life. My heart hammered in my chest, and her perfume infiltrated my nostrils, transporting me into a brief fantasy of her gazing up from beneath my body. The scent of her made me think crazy shit. I pulled my face away from her neck and searched her eyes for any spark that said she felt the same way I did—although I didn’t fully understand the way I felt. Her eyes sparkled as she smiled up at me.

  I cleared my mind and my throat before I spoke. “I couldn’t have dreamt of anything better, Mallory, it’s beautiful… thank you.” She frowned for a split second and I swear I could feel her heart beating against mine as I held her close to me. I swallowed hard, desperate to kiss her. Knowing the feeling couldn’t be acted upon, I pulled away. “I… think the temperature should be about right now. Better get the food on, eh?”

  She seemed relieved that I had let her go and it saddened me. Friends, Greg. That’s all you are.

  As I placed the burgers on the rack and turned them, she began to quiz me about the lack of friends invited to our little gathering. I tried to explain that I didn’t really have friends on account of the ones like Connell, who had betrayed me by sleeping with my wife in my own fucking bed. Who needed friends like that? I told her that I’d rather keep myself to myself. But she was like a dog with a bone and didn’t give up digging.