“I’m not surprised you thought she was so pretty.” The words are quick and pragmatic, making me sound like I’m apologizing on his behalf. “She’s always stealing attention. Stealing the show. Stealing everything, really. It’s no shock she graduated to stealing husbands. She’s stolen hearts. Minds. And the thing is, people let her. Nobody’s ever given me nearly so much attention and energy as the world gives my mother.”
“Heed me, Rose.” The firm command in Callum’s voice takes me aback. “Janet never stole a thing from me. Not my attention. Nor my regard. If I’ve not spoken my feelings plainly, it’s been out of respect for you. She is your mother, aye? But…how to say it? Janet might’ve been an old crone for all I knew, because when I looked at her, all I saw was her mean and miserly heart. She was a child, whining and moping till she got what she wanted, no matter who she needed to take it from.”
“So you weren’t attracted to her?”
A huge laugh cracks from him. “Sweet Jesus and all the saints. Me? Keen for Janet? I’d sooner kiss a nettle.”
Then, suddenly, his eyes spark with mischief. “Ah. I see what needs doing, then.”
Propping himself on an elbow, he leans in. “She was a manipulative shrew, concerned with naught but herself. A she-devil, I tell you. Who wouldnae blink before stabbing her own child in the back.” As he winds up, it’s like his sheer distaste for my mother is filling him with some giddy, lighter-than-air gas, lifting his body from the heather, bringing him closer to me. “And aye,” he declares voice ringing with mock conviction, “shedid. She stabbed you in the back. Because she’s a selfish, uncharitable dragon of a…of a…”
I press a hand to his chest, my teary laughter cutting off his words. And once I’ve started giggling, I can’t stop.
Emotion spills out, unspooling something deep inside me. I’ve carried this knot in my gut for so long—self-doubt, loneliness, resentment, guilt—but Callum’s words slice right through it.
Just like that.
It’s such a relief. The ultimate reality check assuring me that everything I’ve felt all this time has been valid. More than valid, it’s what any reasonable person would feel.
“Shrewish she-devil dragon lady pretty much covers it.” I wipe my face as I catch my breath. “Thank you. Really.”
He flops back. “I’ll let you know when I come up with a way to end that.”
“Please do.”
“Until then—” He rolls to face me again, utterly somber once more. “Dinnae ever doubt that you’re held in thehighest regard. Because you are. I hold you in the highest regard, Rosie.”
My throat clamps shut. At some point, my laughing tears become actual crying. I nod, silent but sure. And Callum understands.
He always does.
We lie there for a while, not speaking. But it’s not an anxious quiet. Callum is close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from his body, steady and real. Yet what I feel in this moment isn’t desire. Not exactly.
It’s comfort. It’s peace, and reassurance, and the quiet relief of beingseen.
At home, things are flying at me. Chores, schoolwork, responsibilities. There’s never time to pause, to really consider my situation. Even if there were, I wouldn’t let myself. That kind of thinking would only feel like self-pity. And what good would that do?
But here, with Callum, I let myself go there.
Staring at the clouds, I ask, “Why am I not enough for her? We could have a great life. Upstate New York is beautiful.”
He doesn’t say anything to this. He wouldn’t. Callum isn’t the kind of person who needs to hear himself speak. His patience and attentiveness soothe me.
I roll onto my side to face him again, and this time I get comfortable, curling my legs and tucking my hands under my head like I’m a kid readying for a nap. Making myself vulnerable in a way I haven’t dared since childhood.
“We have a roof over our heads,” I say, and at first it’s like hearing someone else speak, so unfamiliar is this freedom to express whatIthink. What makesmesad or happy.
“We’re warm, fed. You can’t begin to imagine, Callum. How easy it is. Clean water at the touch of a finger—hot water. Hot showers. Television—oh wow—how I could use a good TV binge right about now.” I note his confusion and wave it away. “Long story. I’ll get back to that.”
There’s so much to explain. So much Callum doesn’t understand.
So how come he gets me so well?
“But first, my mother.” I scrub my face and draw in a shuddering breath. “In a weird way, it was better when I thought she was just some sort of narcissistic egomaniac. But I guess she just didn’t love me enough to be content.”
A thousand questions flare through my mind like fireworks. I start with the biggest one of all. “Has she ever loved anybody? Did she lovehim? Gregor, I mean.”
“Janet?” He chuffs a laugh. “Who’s to say? The woman’s as deep as a puddle and twice as bothersome.” He shrugs. “Doesn’t mean she can’t love, though. I imagine she does love you, in her way.” He shakes his head as he studies me. “How could she not?”
