“Well,” Dad says, in that way that means the word as a complete sentence. He rocks back on his heels, waiting for me to vacate the room.
Clarity slams into me. He’s the parent, the adult, and this is his secret to share, whatever it is. Yet, if it’s going to be discussed, it’s on my shoulders to bring it up. He never will.
I’m reeling from the elephant itself, but also from the discovery that I have to lasso it with a rope and lead it around with me until I’m ready to swallow my reservations and say something. Dad gets to walk away, evidently, with no worries at all.
How does he do it?
I give a nod, though I’m not sure why, and step around him to return downstairs. When I pass through the living room, Mum is telling a story, her arms waving about as she draws them in. She’s charismatic, and she has a way of bringing people onto her team.
“Gavin,” Hamish calls from the couch.
I stall near the door, but lift the device. “Just need to plug this in.”
I can’t stand to remain behind a moment longer. My limbs feel jittery and anxious. Everything about this is off. I’m fed up, and with a house full of guests, this is the wrong time for things to come to a head.
It’s not easy to find a spot out of the way for the Echo to sit, but I manage to sneak it behind the jam drops.
“Thank you, Gavin.” Maeve throws her arm around my back and pulls me in for a quick side hug. “You’ve been so kind toopen your home to us. I want to adopt you as an honorary Winter for the season.”
Adopt me. I used to wish Granny would do that, but then I would feel guilty for the thought and push it away. I know she’s joking, but right now I want to accept.
“Mom, we talked about this,” Callie says.
“Sorry, sorry.” Maeve gives another squeeze and lets me go. She returns to the stove to stir the pot. “It’s the holidays. They make me all sentimental.”
“I think they do that to most people.” I give her a commiserating smile before commanding Alexa to play classic Christmas music. It starts with “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”
“We’re here,” Granny says, pushing the door open. She’s put her hair back into some sort of neat knot and changed her jumper out for a burgundy one that doesn’t quite swallow her up as much. “What can I do to help?”
“Welcome! We’ll need all the house decor poured into bowls,” Maeve says, gesturing to the grocery sacks sitting on the end of the table full of sweets.
Granny pulls me in for a hug and kisses my cheek. “Grandad is out there arguing with your mum about the stockings. Violet is concerned that there aren’t any hanging from the mantelpiece, if you want to manage the situation.”
Callie looks sharply in my direction.
“We never hang them anymore,” I say. “But the hooks are out. Ruby can put up the girls’ stockings. Everyone can hang theirs if they’d like.”
Granny shrugs. “Christmas Eve is tomorrow, so she must be feeling the urgency.”
“Can you blame her?” Maeve asks. “Wouldn’t want her to worry about Santa skipping her house. She’s already so far from home.”
“True,” Callie says, watching me carefully.
I want to tell her I’m doing fine, but my body feels like astorm is raging internally, so maybe that’s not entirely true. The back door through the boot room is practically singing to me.
Mum’s laugh echoes through the front room, making my limbs tense. She’s chosen to be present this evening, apparently. It should be a good thing, but I can already see it’s going to be a show, much like the night she and Dad had dinner here with Callie. Only then I was in a healthier state of mind.
I don’t know if I can take it right now.
The door swings open and Mum comes in, wrapped in flannel and still wearing her boots. “We had the most extraordinary lunch today. I was just telling Hamish all about it. You’ll have to let us take you sometime, Gav.”
I nod, because I don’t trust myself to open my mouth and say anything normal.
“You’ll never guess who we ran into. All the way in Inverness, and we step into this little shop for lunch, and there’s Blair eating with her little girl.” Mum snaps her fingers, looking to the ceiling for help. “I can’t remember her name.”
My entire body freezes like an ice sculpture. She was practically Liv’s grandmother for a few years. The child left a hole in my heart the size of the North Sea, and my mum can’t even remember her name? Fury spreads through me, white hot and lethal, but it’s laced with pain.
“Liv,” I say.
