by Molly Ringle
Why Westminster Abbey? I pondered as I rode the Tube there. Because Gothic architecture in the rain would match my gloom? Or because I knew Julie (and apparently her biological grandfather) would have loved the place? History, artistry, cultural significance, and a fabulous restoration job to boot: the Abbey had it all. If only she were with me.
The train stopped at a station. People flowed on and off. The doors closed and we shot away again. Someone stepped near me and wrapped a hand around the pole.
“Daniel?”
I looked up. “Miriam.” Staring into her gray eyes, I stood and gripped the pole beside her.
“What are you doing here? I thought you were in America!” Her lips were parted, her cheeks rosy from the cool air. She looked good. Apparently got over me quick enough.
“I was. I’m…back for a while, though.”
“Are you wearing eyeliner?”
“Oh. A bit, yeah. Thought I’d try a new look. It’s called ‘My Blackest Despair.’ Do you like it?”
She laughed, wincing in sympathy at the same time. “Oh, dear. Has something happened with a girl?”
I stared at the swaying floor of the train. “Could say that.”
“Poor thing, you look miserable.” Her fingers stroked my cheek.
“I am, kind of.” I glanced up at her, grateful she was treating me so well.
“What went wrong? Mad girl – how could she resist you?”
“We’re cousins. First cousins, or nearly.” I watched the reaction. Definite surprise, but no revulsion. “We didn’t know it at first, but that’s how it turned out. I want us to be together anyway. She disagrees. There you have it.”
“Well – cousins – that isn’t so wrong, is it?”
I shrugged. “All seems to depend who you ask.”
“Whatever happened, it’s really changed you. You’re being so strangely honest.”
I smiled and ran my hand down the pole to cover hers. “You’re being quite decent about this. It’s nice of you not to hit me.”
“Daniel, I adored you. I couldn’t hurt you. Besides, I realized I was being silly, expecting anything serious could happen when we only had a few weeks.”
I gave her hand a squeeze. “It was inexcusable what I did to you. I was fooling around, because you were attractive and I knew I could leave in three weeks regardless. I’m sorry. If it felt anything like this, I can’t believe I did it to you.”
“From the look of you, you’ve got it worse than I did. Anyway, you’re forgiven. I always thought you were a good person. Really.”
“Thank you.”
“You’ll be stronger for it, you know.” She smiled. “Whoever she was, she did something wonderful for you. You’re already more handsome than you used to be. And I don’t think it’s just the makeup.”
I smiled too, though I felt sad. Julie had indeed done something wonderful for me. I knew that. The question was whether I would ever feel wonderful again.
Miriam looked over her shoulder at the train windows. “My stop’s coming up. I don’t know if I’ll run into you again.”
“I hope so. I’ll ring you sometime.”
“You can, but now it’s me who’s leaving in three weeks. I forgot to tell you: I’m going on exchange to America.”
“Really? Where?”
“Boston University,” she said.
I raised my eyebrows. “I see. Well, listen, if you run into a guy named Patrick Miller, don’t ever, under any circumstances, date him. Might also want to avoid mentioning my name.”
She laughed. “God, I won’t even ask.” The train stopped at her station. “Take care of yourself,” she said.
“It was good to see you.”
“You too.” She stepped forward and embraced me.
“Goodbye.” I let her go and watched her step off the train. She waved at me.
The train sped away, and I sat down again. At least Miriam was happy. She had a whole exciting journey before her; who knew what fabulous things would happen to her in Boston? Maybe she too would find the one person she really loved, who would hear that London accent and fall for those gentle eyes, and never want to let her go.
I thought of myself a year ago, ready to leave for America, partly terrified, partly restless to embrace a whole continent of adventures. I had been so cavalier, so certain everything would be beautiful and thrilling – and it was, for a while. Despite all the doubt and stress and insanity, I had snared a thousand delicious moments. If only I could go back, take over my life a year ago, knowing what was going to happen, I would…I would what?
Westminster station slid to a halt outside the train doors. I stepped off, climbed the steps, and emerged in the rain. I pulled my coat tighter around myself.
I would live it all over again. I knew I would. I would keep it all the same, except I would tell her the truth sooner and show her we needn’t be ashamed, and stay with her even if it all fell apart around us.
Deep shadows loomed in the carvings on Westminster Abbey. Rain darkened its points and arches. I grasped the wet iron fence and gazed at the monument of 900 years’ work, and wondered how forty days of silence could feel so long and so agonizing.
Big Ben, down the street, chimed two separate times, so I must have stood there over a quarter of an hour. I know that after the second chime, my breath caught in my throat, and the Abbey blurred in my gaze. I want you back. Why won’t you answer me? Why won’t you write? Two warm drops ran down among the rain on my face, and slipped between my lips. I tasted lukewarm saltiness. People kept walking by; cars and taxis and buses splashed past in the road. I doubted anyone would notice if I walked down to Westminster Bridge and jumped right over the side.
“Daniel?”
I looked, and gasped. I actually stepped backward, away from her. “Jules?”
Her hair was red, the way it got when wet. Raindrops clung to it, and to her black overcoat, which she hugged around herself. She stepped up and looked into my face. Her eyebrows dove downward in a frown. “Are you wearing makeup?”
I was gripping the Abbey fence with one hand to hold myself up. A laugh tumbled out of my mouth. “Yeah, it’s Sinter’s. Um, what are you doing here?”
She stood up taller, prouder. “You summoned me. So I came.”
“But, your parents –”
“Patrick was right about one thing, and one thing only. I am a grownup and need to go my own way. Besides…” She shook a damp lock of hair out of her face, and looked at me more humbly. “I couldn’t get over you, either. I explained it to my dad last week, after you wrote. He’s not thrilled, but he’ll accept it. Mom’s working on him, I think.”
“Really?” I was shaking. “You’re here, you’ve come back, you’re…”
Julie put her hand on my wet coat. “Yours,” she said. She took my hand, and kissed my palm. “Mine.”
I seized her and held her as close as I could. We babbled nonsense, and kissed with rain-wet lips, and laughed like maniacs. Someone whistled at us from a car, which just made us laugh more.
“How’d you get here?” I asked, when the rush had subsided and washed up some common sense in the flotsam.
“I flew, stupid.” She nestled under my chin.
“I mean here – to Westminster.”
“Oh. Sinter brought me.” She turned in my arms, and for the first time I noticed Sinter leaning on the fence, a tactful distance away. He waved.
“Oy!” I shouted. “Can’t thank you enough, mate.”
“Any excuse to visit the Abbey,” he called back.
“My plane got in an hour ago,” she said. “I took a cab to your flat, and Sinter was just getting back from work. He told me where you were, and brought me here on the Tube.”
“Ah.” We walked down the pavement, toward Sinter. “By the way, my email actually stated that I would fly back to you. I never said you had to spring for a ticket to London. You could have just answered, you know.”
“And pass up a vacation in England? You know I�
��ve been dying to visit here.”
I squeezed her. “Oddly, just before you walked up, I was wishing you were here with all my heart.” My voice got quieter. I felt ridiculously shy and happy. “I’ve wished it every day since I left.”
She stopped walking and leaned up to kiss me. It detained us for more than a few seconds. Sinter waited courteously.
She pulled back. “By the way, what’s this big important thing you wanted to tell me? I called my voicemail when I got to Heathrow, and heard your message. I figured I’d see you soon enough and ask you in person.”
I laughed. “Oh, yes. Nearly a moot point since you came back anyway, but one I think you’re going to like.” I included Sinter in my smile. I hadn’t seen him all day, and thus hadn’t told him Nanny’s revelation. “Let’s all sit down somewhere, and I’ll explain.” I glanced at Julie, tucked beneath my arm. “Are you tired? You must be tired. Do you want to go back to the flat, or get a bite to eat? Or what exactly?”
“I don’t care. Anything. I’m not very tired. Show me the city.”
“All right. Sinter, where should we go?”
“The view from the bridge is nice.” He swept his arm to gesture down the road. “After you, my lady.”
She stopped to kiss him on the cheek, then wrapped her arms around me again, and we set off down the street in the rain.
THE END
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Molly Ringle has been writing fiction for over 20 years, and her stories always include love and humor, as well as the occasional touch of tragedy and/or the paranormal. Her book The Ghost Downstairs, a 2010 EPIC Award finalist for paranormal romance. She is also the author of Summer Term, Of Ghosts and Geeks and What Scotland Taught Me.
Molly lives in Seattle with her husband and kids, and worships fragrances and chocolate.
www.mollyringle.com.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Special thanks to the many people who helped this story along over the years. In particular:
Matilda Filch and Ali Masterson for the Britpicking; Marie Anderson, Jennifer Pennington, and several other LiveJournalers (with handles like narfistic, grantmepeace, bitter_female, m_nivalis, _illumina_, 3whysman, handsoapisgood, and theycallmekelsi) for beta-reading and cheering me on; Michelle Halket and Meghan Tobin-O’Drowsky for taking on this story and doing wonderful edits; my younger sister Peggy for cheerfully reading the mediocre early drafts; and, as ever, my husband Steve and my kids for patiently enduring my enthusiasm for imaginary people.
OTHER BOOKS BY IREADIWRITE PUBLISHING
WHAT SCOTLAND TAUGHT ME
Molly Ringle
Fresh out of high school, Eva Sonneborn is headed to Scotland with her best friends: scholarly, sarcastic Laurence; gorgeous, ghost-seeing Amber; and responsible, sweet Shannon. They plan to spend the next six months in Edinburgh, enjoying an adventure-filled work-abroad journey before parting ways for college.
But when Eva meets Gil, a local bartender, she figures a little innocent flirting won’t hurt her relationship with Tony, her ever-faithful boyfriend back home. But just when things turn less innocent with Gil, the trip starts throwing curveballs at not only her but her friends too. By the end of the trip, they’ve all fallen in love, sometimes with the wrong people - and with consequences that may tear their friendship apart forever...
AMBER FROST
Suzi Davis
Grace Lynn Stevenson is an eighteen year old girl who recently moved with her wealthy, but busy parents to a new city. She’s popular, pretty and rich - what more could a girl want? But deep down, she’s sad, lonely and plagued by nightmares. When she meets Sebastian Caldwood at her new private school, she’s inexplicably drawn to him and his strange tattoos. Sebastian always gets what he wants - he simply has to wish it; but he’s fighting his own inner demons, and struggling to remember a past that eludes him. When he remembers that he is much older than he looks, he realizes that he’s seen many people live and die, including Grace.
Once Sebastian realizes his true nature and finds what he has been searching for the past hundreds of years, he also realizes that it is now up to him to protect Grace from the dangers that have plagued them throughout eternity.
LILY: A NOVEL
LM DeWalt
Lily is a lonely vampire desperate for love and a normal existence. When she finally finds someone she can love and a group of vampires she can call family, her long lost maker comes back to claim her. To save the ones she loves, Lily must face, and possibly destroy, the one who stole her choices and her very life.
Table of Contents
ireadiwrite Publishing Edition
relatively honest
Chapter 1: Leaving England
Chapter 2: Someone Else’s Girlfriend
Chapter 3: The Mysteries of Mum
Chapter 4: Away to University
Chapter 5: Opportunities from Roommates
Chapter 6: Don Juan in the Internet Age
Chapter 7: The Walk of Shame
Chapter 8: Halloween
Chapter 9: Thanksgiving
Chapter 10: The End of Autumn
Chapter 11: Happy Birthday, Son
Chapter 12: Living with Reality
Chapter 13: Other People’s Problems
Chapter 14: Theater
Chapter 15: Playing at Love
Chapter 16: Fancy That
Chapter 17: Is It Cheating Yet?
Chapter 18: Best Actor in a Family Drama
Chapter 19: Spring Term
Chapter 20: The Lovers Who Knew Too Much
Chapter 21: Family Breakups
Chapter 22: You Could Have Anyone
Chapter 23: Relatives Being Honest
About The Author
Acknowledgments
Other Books By ireadiwrite Publishing
