Second to Cry (20 page)

He thought of her then, and wondered where she was. Probably at work, in Chez Vous, styling the trendy youth of Chicago. Or perhaps she had returned to the old hotel, her sanctuary, to play soulful melodies on that old piano. In his drunken haze the previous night Aiden had decided he would buy Brandy a piano. That they would go live in a big house somewhere and he would buy her a white piano, which he would position in their dining room, where it would catch the afternoon sun, and he would sit and listen to her play in the heat of the day and he would feel that sweet, sought-after emotion of complete and utter happiness.

But on waking he knew it was all nothing more than an unobtainable dream. Where would Meegan fit into the scenario? And Isla? It wouldn’t be fair to leave her after all she had given up for him.

Aiden rubbed his head, trying to remove some of his anxieties. Since when did he become so selfish? He was struggling to recognize himself. He was a father first; he must never lose sight of that.

‘We just want you home,’ Isla said softly into the phone and Aiden closed his eyes and absorbed the words. He felt unclean for lying to his family and suddenly wanted to shower again.

‘I’ll be home soon.’

‘I can’t wait. But, Aid…’

‘Yeah?’

‘Don’t pull this kind of shit again. I mean it. You had me fearing the worst, like maybe you’d been run over by a car or something.’

‘Honey, I’m sorry. It was stupid of me,’ Aiden admitted, loathing himself for being so lackadaisical about contact with his family.

‘Shit!’ Meegan suddenly said in the background, having heard her mother utter the forbidden word just moments ago.

‘Meegan, no!’ Isla called out to her daughter who merely repeated the obscenity.

‘Aid, I’ve got to go and teach our daughter about foul language.’ Before Aiden could respond, Isla had hung up and all he could hear was the dull drill of the dial tone.

His hotel room suddenly seemed unbearably quiet without the chaotic family backdrop he was accustomed to. Outside, the steady drone of traffic and car horns whispered of the relentless pace of city life. Aiden sat on the bed, his exposed skin now cool. He looked at the hotel phone and thought of calling Brandy. If only to say goodbye, to hear her voice one last time. But in his heart he knew that it wouldn’t be goodbye, that it never could be. She’d cast a spell on him which felt unbreakable. Each time his heart beat, she was there within it. Aiden wanted to uphold the vows he had made to Isla, to be the father he longed to be for Meegan and, more than anything, to honour the memory of Justin by living an exemplary life. The only obstacle with that was that Aiden was human and, by that very definition, flawed. He silenced his mind, allowed his heart to guide him and dialled Brandy’s number.

*

Isla pushed Meegan along in the shopping cart as she browsed the aisles of Avalon’s modest grocery store. Now that she knew that Aiden would be home that evening, she was determined to cook him something special. The cart was already full of a variety of ingredients, though she had yet to decide on what, exactly, she would make.

‘Candy?’ Meegan asked from her seat above the groceries. Her little eyes scanned the various stacked produce she could see, searching for garishly coloured wrapping which would signal some sickeningly sweet contents.

‘No candy,’ Isla told her, aware that if Meegan ate candy now she’d be wired and pumped full of energy until Aiden got home. Isla would be much happier if her daughter settled down for an afternoon nap so she could clean and get the house in order.

‘Candy!’ Meegan demanded, smacking the plastic bar of the shopping cart with her little hands.

‘I said no,’ Isla told her sternly.

‘Candy!’ the little girl screamed.

‘No!’ Isla tried to sound assertive, desperate for Meegan not to have another public tantrum. She always found them so shameful to endure as onlookers would glance at her with that silent accusation that she was a bad mother. Isla glanced nervously around for such prying eyes and felt her stomach sink with despair.

Watching them from the end of the aisle was the unmistakeable figure of the sheriff, his Stetson shielding his eyes from her. Isla wanted to turn and leave, forsaking her groceries, but it was too late, he was already heading purposefully towards her.

‘Good afternoon Mrs Connelly,’ he dipped his hat politely. ‘Afternoon little miss,’ he smiled at Meegan and she giggled nervously, previous thoughts of candy suddenly forgotten.

‘Kids always want candy,’ he said empathetically.

‘They don’t know any better,’ Isla replied tersely. Her body had become stiff and she gripped the handlebar of her shopping cart tightly, glad that it at least created a barrier between her and Buck Fern.

‘Candy can be nice,’ the sheriff mused, smirking slightly as though he took pleasure in Isla’s visible discomfort. ‘Everyone likes something sweet sometime.’

‘What can I do for you, Sheriff?’ Isla asked bluntly. Her hands continued to grip the shopping cart; she was prepared to flee at a moment’s notice. The old man, with his flint eyes and bird-like mannerisms, made her nervous. He looked at her intently, like a vulture surveying a corpse and deciding which bit to take a bite of first.

‘I’m just checking in on you. Making sure you’ve not had any more of those notes clogging up your mail box. Must have really rattled Mr Connelly when you told him about it. Is he in town?’ Buck asked the question, his lips pulling in a slight smile.

‘For you to ask, that means you already know the answer,’ Isla told him, tensing with hostility.

‘So where is he? I know he’s not at the office.’

‘Why are you so concerned with my husband’s whereabouts?’ Isla asked accusingly.

‘As sheriff it’s my job to be concerned about the whereabouts of all the citizens of Avalon,’ he explained, speaking slowly as though she were a child. ‘I thought he’d be glued to your side, watching over you and the little one in case whoever wrote those darn notes showed up.’

‘He’s away with work,’ Isla sighed, desperate to just tell the old man what he wanted so that he would leave her alone.

‘With work?’ Buck’s interest was piqued.

‘Yes, work. That’s all I know, so stop interrogating me.’

‘I’m just interested is all,’ Buck explained, smirking sinisterly. ‘If I was interrogating you, you’d know about it.’

Something about his tone sent a shiver down Isla’s spine and she gripped the shopping cart even tighter. Even Meegan was quiet, subdued into silence by Buck Fern’s intimidating presence. She looked up at the two of them from her seat, her eyes blank yet fearful.

‘He’s away with work, that’s all I know,’ Isla told him curtly, wishing he would just leave.

‘Anything to do with my brother?’ Buck asked, leaning against the cart and minimizing the distance between them.

Isla could smell the stale tobacco and coffee which clung to his uniform.

‘Like I said, it’s work.’

‘So you don’t know where he’s gone?’

‘Jesus Christ! He’s in Chicago! Why don’t you just stick a monitoring device on him, that way you’d know where he was all the time?’ Isla was growing increasingly impatient with the old man and his questions. Being around him made her feel unbearably uneasy. She kept glancing past him to the glass doors of the entrance, wondering if she’d be able to just run out and leave him standing there, slack-jawed and confused.

Buck Fern recoiled slightly at her outburst but appeared deep in thought. His brow furrowed over his steely eyes which looked distant and contemplative.

‘Chicago?’ he muttered, partly to Isla but also to himself, as though he were trying to piece together some imaginary puzzle.

‘Yes, Chicago.’

‘What’s in Chicago?’ the sheriff asked. ‘I thought he came here to escape the city.’

‘Yes, he did. It’s work-related. Like I said. Now, if you don’t mind, Sheriff, I’ve chores to attend to.’ Isla didn’t wait for a response, instead thrusting her shopping cart forward and using it as a shield to keep Buck Fern at bay. She hurried past him, straight for the cash register, no longer caring what groceries she had managed to pick up, just wanting to get in her car and escape the old man.

She didn’t look back, not even once she was safely in her car with Meegan strapped into her car seat, the groceries she’d gathered stored within the trunk. Her mind kept lingering on one question he had asked.

‘What’s in Chicago?’

Isla knew full well what was in Chicago, or rather who, though she had tried to blind herself to the truth of it. Gripping the steering wheel as she had previously gripped the shopping cart, with intense ferocity, Isla tried to calm herself, to stem the flood of tears which were building up behind her eyes, causing her vision to blur. Brandy White was in Chicago. The admission made the tears come, fast, hot salty rivers which ran down her cheeks and settled upon her cream sweater, darkening the fabric.

As Isla sobbed, she tried desperately to force the thought from her mind. Aiden was a good man, no, a great man, that was why she had married him. He’d only ever conducted himself with integrity. She had to believe, now more than ever, that he’d never do anything to hurt her, to break their family apart. Heaving as the tears finally stopped falling, Isla tried to catch her breath. Rummaging in her purse, she found a tissue which she used to dab at her eyes.

Glancing back, she realized she didn’t need to worry if Meegan had witnessed her sudden despair as the little girl was sleeping soundly in the back of the car. Her young mind was free of any worries or concern. Isla watched her fondly for a moment, thankful that she was there. She was her insurance; her guarantee that, no matter what, Aiden would always return to her.

*

‘Hello?’ It took five rings before Brandy answered and her voice sounded bright and lively even through the receiver.

‘Brandy, hi, it’s me.’

‘Aiden?’

Aiden couldn’t tell if she sounded happy or sad to have heard from him.

‘Yeah, it’s me.’

Brandy was silent and all Aiden could hear was the sound of his own heart racing in his chest, banging throughout his body and pulsating within his ears like a relentless war drum.

‘How are you?’ he asked, trying to break the tension and immediately cringing at picking such a bland question.

‘I’m good,’ Brandy answered. Then, with concern coating her voice, ‘How are you?’

‘I—’ Aiden didn’t want to lie to her. He wanted to be brutally honest, to crack open his ribs so she could see his beating heart encased behind them, and her name burnt upon it. But then he thought of his daughter, of his home, of the vows he had taken.

‘I’m leaving tonight.’

‘Oh.’ He could hear the disappointment in Brandy’s voice and could envision the shadow which would have darkened her angelic features. A pain tore through his chest as he spoke, as though his heart were rebelling against his mind.

‘Yeah, I’m heading back to Avalon.’

Brandy was silent.

‘I wanted to see you before I left,’ Aiden continued, his voice soft.

‘Why?’ Brandy breathed the word down the phone. It whispered against his own ear, fluttering along on sound waves, carrying her pain and anguish with it.

Aiden wanted to tell her that it was to say goodbye. Knew it was for the best that he be definite about it all. Yet the words didn’t come. Instead, the pain in his chest intensified and he was left unable to speak.

‘Aiden?’ Brandy whispered his name and the drumming of his heart went from a momentous drumming to a frantic tempo.

‘You know why,’ he managed to cough out the response, struggling to hold himself together.

‘No, why?’ Brandy persisted, though her own voice wavered with emotion.

‘I just need to see you,’ Aiden admitted.

‘Why?’

Sighing, Aiden shifted away from the receiver and let his head fall into his free hand. He tried to conjure every last reserve of his resolve to help him get through the conversation but it seemed he had nothing left within him. He was powerless to resist her questions, unable to deliver the lie which would save his marriage, save his home.

‘Don’t make me say it,’ he pleaded with her.

‘Say what?’ Brandy sounded genuinely bemused by his response.

‘Will you come and see me?’ Aiden asked, trying to deflect from her questions, already fearing how he would cope with them if she chose to deliver them in person.

Brandy’s voice was gentle and kind as she answered, relenting to him. ‘Of course I will come and see you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I’m worried about you,’ Brandy admitted.

‘Me too.’

For a moment neither of them spoke, not knowing quite what to say, unaware that their silence said more than words ever could.

‘You know why I need to leave,’ Aiden whispered after a long pause. His bare skin was now covered in goose bumps, a factor of both the cold and his tension.

‘Because of your family?’ Brandy concluded the thought for him.

‘Yeah, because of my family.’

‘You’re a good man.’

‘No, I’m not.’ Aiden argued.

‘You’re the best man I know.’

‘If I was any sort of decent man, I wouldn’t be feeling the way I feel about you,’ Aiden admitted, his hands shaking as they held the receiver.

‘It’s not the sort of thing you can control,’ Brandy whispered sagely.

‘I don’t want to leave,’ Aiden told her, his last shred of resolve completely falling away. His whole body began to shake with grief though he did not cry.

‘I know. But you have to.’

‘But you’ll come see me?’ Aiden beseeched, not liking how plaintive the request sounded.

‘Yes.’

‘Brandy—’ Aiden began but she interrupted him.

‘Aiden, don’t say it. I don’t want you to say it and regret it. I’ll see you later.’ And with that she hung up the phone.

Aiden remained sitting on the hotel bed. He willed himself to move but couldn’t seem to find the strength. Across the room his small pull-along suitcase sat smugly by the door, a reminder that he needed to pack in preparation for leaving.

The pain in his chest had not subsided, but Aiden was forced to ignore it as he got up and got dressed, just as his teeth had commenced chattering from the chill. He sprayed his body with cologne before putting on a shirt and jumper and then some cargo pants. He regarded himself in the mirror. His hair was thinning but he still had some, which was more than he could say for some men his age. He had retained the handsome, chiselled features of his youth. He recognized the man in the mirror. He didn’t hate him, or question his judgement. He just pitied him. Aiden looked at the man in the mirror, the man he was trying to be, and knew he was failing. Knew he was falling short as all he could think about was Brandy and how unbearably hard it was going to be to say goodbye to her.