Everything is about ready and I turn the oven and hob to low, keeping everything warm. Sitting at the table, I flick through the Christmas food brochure from the supermarket. Pictures of families sitting at a table, having a traditional Christmas meal, warms my heart. All I’ve ever wanted is to sit down with my own family. With people who love me and care for me. I always thought having a blood relative meant having that feeling of being wanted and cared for, but the longer I sit waiting for them, the more emptiness swirls in and around me. Shane’s voice echoes in my head.‘Family doesn’t have to mean blood.’Or something to that effect.
* * *
The night draws in,pushing the sun down into the horizon. My bottom is numb from sitting on the wooden chair for so long. I call Jesse, but it goes to voicemail. A worry creeps in that something happened to them, but the roads are clear and the weather is dry. My tummy rumbles, and I decide to serve the meals up, hoping they will arrive home any minute.
After dishing up the food, I cover the bird with several layers of tinfoil and let it rest on the worktop. I pop their meals back in the warm oven, but turn everything off. They will have to reheat it when they get home.
My phone vibrates in the pocket of my skater dress. I glance at the screen, ready to read a text from Jesse, but it’s not from him. My heart races. Kane’s name appears in my message app. I hold my breath, tapping the screen.
Merry Christmas, Vi.
With the phone held to my chest, I breathe deeply, my sinuses burning from the simple sentiment. At least someone is thinking of me. He’s the one I should be with today. He was the one I wanted to be with, but after everything that’s happened, I can’t trust him.
I owe some loyalty to my father, but what if Lilly was right? I should show some loyalty to my mother and stay away from her enemy. The truth is, I just don’t know who that is anymore. After reading her book, she seemed infatuated with this guy. My Dad.
The thought of Kane being alone for another Christmas tugs at my heartstrings. I sigh and slump back against the seat, knowing all my plans for our first Christmas will never come to pass. This was going to be my first Christmas with someone who actually cared for me.
My tummy rumbles again, and I tuck into my roast dinner. The veg is a little overdone, but the guys will probably be too drunk to notice. With each mouthful of food, I want to cry. I make a new year’s resolution to myself that next year, I will have the best Christmas with people who love me.
36
VIOLET
“Hello, love, nice to see you again. Haven’t seen you at the food cabin with Kane. I wasn’t sure if you were still around.”
I spin in my Converse, the rubber sole squeaking against the floor of the supermarket. “Hi, Carole. I’m still here.”
She rubs my arm. “Has Kane not been well? I didn’t like to say anything, but he hasn’t been himself these last few weeks.”
“How so?”
“Quiet, withdrawn, tired. I don’t think he’s shaved in a month. It’s a little worrying. I dropped a casserole in last week and the house was in a bit of a mess. His mamma would turn in her grave if she saw the state of the place.”
“I haven’t been living there since before Christmas.” My chest aches with guilt, knowing he’s suffering because of me. He was doing all right before I showed up dredging up the past and muddying the water.
“That explains it, dear, but he’s always kept things clean and tidy, being a military man. Even when his pa passed, he still kept the house tidy. My husband was in the Navy. Military men have a bit of OCD about keeping things shipshape, you know. It’s just so out of character for him. I did wonder if he was ill, but I didn’t like to pry.”
She just thought she’d ask around instead. “Thanks for telling me. He isn’t ill as far as I know.” He’s just a fucking liar and murderer, not to mention a thief that stole my heart.
“Anyway, give him my love when you see him, dear.”
“Okay.” I smile as she shuffles down the aisle, using the trolley like a Zimmer frame. I can’t even give him my love, let alone hers. It’s been weeks since Christmas. I asked Shane how he was last time I saw him, and he never said Kane was this bad.
* * *
At the endof my shift, I grab my coat and bag from the staff room and hold my new winter coat tight around me as I walk through the freezing wind to my car. Kane’s been on my mind all day since I saw Carole. I have this magnet in my chest that pulls me towards the farmhouse each time I drive home from the supermarket. I fight it with all my strength, but that strength is dwindling day by day. Today, right now, I embrace the pull and turn down the country lane that leads to his home.
Anticipation bubbles in my belly. My heart pounds and aches at the same time. My mind screams at me to stay away, to leave him alone and move on, but my heart won’t allow that, drawing me back here like a magnetic force willing us back together. Maybe I need to see him one last time and clear the air before I can fully move on.
Gravel crunches as I pull into his drive. The familiar sound comforts me, like coming home after a long day. The sunset scorches the sky, painting it in flames of red and orange. A warning? I shouldn’t be here, but I can’t stay away.
The land is eerily quiet, no machines humming from the workshop or engines roaring from the garage. Even the dog isn’t here to greet me. With a trembling hand, I knock on the door. It’s like the first time I arrived here, trepidation pounding in my head.
A whine and a scratch sound from the other side of the door and I try the handle. Belle greets me, jumping up with her wagging tail. “Sup, Belle? Hey, you missed me? I know, I know.” I crouch down, giving her a good fuss. She licks my face, frantically swishing her tail back and forth. I enter the dark house and flick on lights as I walk through the kitchen and then into the living room. The TV blasts out reruns of Only Fools and Horses and the coffee table is littered with empty crisp packets, a cereal box and a dinner plate that’s been licked clean by Belle.
Kane’s fast asleep on the sofa, his dark hair falls limp over his forehead and the black inked sockets of the skull on his chest expands with each deep wrinkle of his brow. The aroma of his home-grown brand fills the space, coming from an overflowing ashtray under the junk food.
The house looks like it hasn’t been cleaned since I left. Guilt claws at my stomach, but I’m not sure why. The only thing I know is that I don’t want him living like this. I roll my sleeves up and set to tidying the house. Belle follows my every step, probably hoping I will drop more food, but there’s nothing left in these empty packets. “You hungry, girl?”
