I fiddle with the stem of my wineglass.
“I’ll just come out with it. I’ve fallen in love. With Thora.”
I nearly knock over my wine. I knew they had been flirting, butlove?
“And we’ve talked about it, and if it’s alright with you, well, we’d like it if Thora could move in.”
I stand up. “You want to move in together? You’ve only known her for a couple of months!”
He stands too. “When you know, you know. We’re both in our sixties. Why wait?”
My heart is filled with panic, and I don’t completely understand why. My mother’s been gone for years. I want my father to be happy, so why do I feel this fluttery feeling like I’m about to lose something? Thora seems lovely, but will she stay, or will she set sail after a few months for Hollywood and leave my father brokenhearted and more alone than before she came? “What about her acting?”
“She might travel if a really good film comes up, but she wants to explore other things for now.”
“Other things?” But for how long? What if she decides she’s had enough of drafty castle life and takes my father with her? What if they want me to be the caretaker indefinitely? I can’t. I love this place, but I can’t be tied to this castle alone for the rest of my life.
I shake my head. I don’t know what to say. “Dad, this is just a lot to take in.”
My father’s eyes are deeply concerned. “I know, pet.”
I cross my arms tightly over my chest, trying to hold myself together the best I can. The look on my father’s face threatens to break me. I swallow back my tears like a good stiff shot. Ah, what I wouldn’t give for one of those right about now. “It’s just…is she really going to be happy here, giving up her acting? Or will it be like Mom with her singing, always wishing she chose the other path?”
Dad steps back, his face wounded but resolute. “I’m not asking Thora to give anything up, just like I didn’t ask your mother.”
“I know you didn’t ask. But she did. And now Thora is. And what if this time she goes back to her old life? I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Dad sighs. “It’s a risk we all take for love. About your mother, though?—”
I blink back tears. “I need a minute.”
Heading upstairs, I shut my door with careful, measured movements, my head swimming. This is unbelievable. My father is in love. How can he be so brave about it, after the heartache of losing Mom? Marching right into fire to pursue it. And Thora is willing to leave her career. I pace the room. What have I ever been willing to risk? After about twenty minutes, I’m still pacing and no closer to any answers. There is a small knock at the door.
“Pet. I know you don’t want to talk to me, and that’s fine. But I have something for you.”
I don’t respond.
Dad keeps going anyway. “It’s from your mother.”
I open the door and cross my arms. He’s holding a bright-red journal.
“What you said about her giving up her singing career. It wasn’t like that. Well, I should let her explain. This is your mother’s diary from when she was pregnant with you. I probably should’ve given it to you a long time ago, but your mother always meant to give it to you when you were pregnant with your own wee bairn. So, I was waiting… but I think you should read it. If you want. The page I’ve bookmarked, I thought might clear some things up for you. I had no idea you thought that.”
I snatch the journal and hug it to me, crossing my arms tightly again. It feels as if I loosen my grip, my heart will literally fall out.
“Read it if you want. This is your home too, so if you’re not comfortable with Thora moving in, I can let her know. Just take some time to think about it, okay?”
“It’s not that, Dad. I just…”
He places a gentle hand on my arm. “It’s a big decision. Let’s all take a beat to think about it.”
I nod. “I’m still going to go on that trip, just for a couple days.”
“Aye. Take as much time and space as you need. I’ll feed the damn chickens.” He gives my shoulder a small squeeze as he heads down the hall.
I open the journal. My mother’s familiar looping script is scrawled across the page, and I can’t fight it anymore. A sob rips through my torso. I close the book quickly, not wanting any tears to land on the pages.
I hold the journal close to me as I gather my things. Then I place it carefully in my shoulder bag, put on my coat, and head out to the Land Rover.
