‘No! Since we’ve been here, there’s been wind, rain and glorious sun… often in the same day! But it’s always beautiful, no matter what the weather. Always special.’
She nods, and we stroll closer to the water’s edge. I’ve been a little more cautious about the sea since my close encounter with it, and I keep a careful eye on the roll and swell of the waves – Brody would never forgive me if anything happened to Shannon.
‘His back seems to be bothering him less,’ she says. ‘How’s it been?’
‘Um… better, I think? He’s moving around a lot, keeping active.’
‘I bet,’ she replies, giving me a sideways look that can only be described as ‘cheeky’. I obviously blush immediately, and she starts to laugh. Then those probing eyes settle on mine, and I know she has more to say.
‘Is this the part where you ask me if my intentions are honourable, Shannon?’
‘Basically, yes – he’s my dad, and I love him. He’s had a tough time, and I don’t want him to get hurt.’
Her gaze is intense, and I can feel her love for him radiating outwards. A protective urge that he shares.
‘Believe me, you don’t have anything to worry about. I would never do anything to hurt him. Besides, this is… this isn’t serious. We’ve been clear it’s a summer fling, nothing more.’
I’m starting to doubt that’s true from my perspective, but Brody and I have never promised each other more. We’ve never discussed a future, or made plans beyond the next few days. He made it clear he wasn’t ready for more than that, and I was perfectly willing to go along with our no-strings arrangement. I’m trying very hard not to be a complete… girl, for want of a better word, and spoil what time we have left together by thinking too hard. I’m way too old to be doodling a man’s name on my pencil case, or imagining a happy ending. This has been a happy beginning, and that needs to be enough.
‘I guess that’s what’s bothering me, Kate,’ she continues. ‘That it’s only a fling. He’s not a fling kind of guy. He’s been so much happier since he came here. Since he met you. Like his old self again. What happens when he gets home? I’m worried he’ll have some kind of relapse…’
I know he’d hate to hear her talking like this. He’d hate to think that his daughter was so concerned about him.
‘He’s been talking to his friend about starting a new job,’ I tell her, desperate to wipe away the anxiety in her words. ‘Miguel, I think?’
She brightens, and I can tell that was news to her. ‘Right. Okay. Well, that’s positive, and Miguel is cool. He needs to work. He needs to have a purpose outside me, and his extended family. They’re all great, really they are, but there are so many, and they’re all real loud, and it’s too easy for him to fade into the background… he pretends he’s okay and none of them notice when he’s not.’
I can’t imagine Brody fading into any background, but I know families are complicated. They all have their own dynamics and politics and hierarchies.
‘I’m sure he’ll be fine, Shannon. He’s so proud of you and everything you’re doing. He wouldn’t want to think you were so concerned about him.’
‘I know,’ she says, smiling sadly. ‘So don’t tell him, okay?’
‘It’s a deal.’
We chat about easier things as we walk back to the shop, and I pretend that everything is fine. That we are just two women, strolling on a summer’s day. Inside, my heart is suddenly heavy.
Talking to Shannon has made it real. Imagining his family, his new job, his world in Chicago. He will be leaving, heading back to his actual life, and I will return to mine. What will that even look like? I wonder. Will we forget about each other, will we stay in touch? Will this ever be more than a happy memory?
So much for not overthinking it…
TWENTY-ONE
BRODY
I think we’re both conscious of how quickly our time together is passing, and making the most of it. We’ve been out on a boat trip, we’ve been swimming in the sea, and I took Kate for a ride on one of Rory’s motorcycles. Turns out he’s the kind of sculptor who makes things out of metal, which is pretty macho for an artist, and he also has an actual Harley-Davidson, which Kate said made her feel like she was inSons of Anarchy. That was an image I was happy to run with, and led to a fun encounter in a secluded heather-covered spot up in the hills.
‘Wow,’ she’d said afterwards, laughing as we pulled our clothes back on. ‘That was one for the history books! I’m going to miss all of this…’
She’d gestured at the view in front of us, but I know she meant more than that. She’d blushed, looked awkward, and turned away from me so I couldn’t see her eyes. I wanted to grab her, pull her down into my arms, tell her everything was going to be okay.
I didn’t, because I have no clue if that’s true or not. We’ve both very deliberately lived in the moment since we’ve been here, but we’re running out of moments. Shannon’s visit was awesome, and the bookstore is going great guns. It’s been evenbusier than usual there, and I’m starting to see what Kate saw even on that tough first day when the place was a wreck – that it is at the very heart of this community, the store and the books and just as importantly Moira and the warmth she brings to it all. I’ve been a part of that, but now looming on the horizon is the end of it all. At least for me, and if Moira sells up, also for the bookstore.
I have a job interview lined up, and I haven’t seen my folks for too long now. I should be ready to go home. Ready to move on from this. Except, well, I guess I haven’t exactly ever been the King of Moving On. It took a total life change and a random note inside a book to get me to even look at another woman, five years after Sandy died.
‘You okay?’ I’d said, tugging on my boots.
‘Yep! All good! I just…’
