‘Well, finally,’ he quipped, slowing down for a set of red lights. ‘I was waiting till you caved.’ She laughed, and his heart soared with the sound. ‘I’m sorry for earlier. I need to explain.’
‘It’s okay, it can wait a minute. We have a mission, and I think “baby” was big enough for our relationship today.’ She paused, but didn’t take it back. Relationship. Having her come and sleep over at his every night had been for comfort initially. An experiment in curiosity and loneliness. Now it was something else entirely, and Cillian himself had been shielding it from the light of day in case it was too much to bear. The truth was, life was almost perfect at the Pines, but they wouldn’t be perfect because of what wasn’t spoken about.
‘I need you to come back home and take Martha and me to the gallery. She’s going to sell her work there hopefully.’
It sounded innocent enough, and great news, but Cillian wasn’t stupid. His beautiful boss woman was up to something.
‘This got anything to do with those letters I keep seeing you crying over?’ His gut lurched at the memory as he drove back to Lizard Point. A few nights ago, he had woken up to find April missing from her side of the bed. Her side, listen to me. He slept on the side that Tina used to when they were together, and April slept closest to the window.
‘April?’ he’d whispered, seeing that the lock on the inside of the door was still in place. ‘Come back to bed.’ She turned from the window, a wad of white paper in her hand. She was crying, the drops of water dripping onto his white T-shirt that she wore. She’d never looked so stunning, or so sad. He made a mental note to punch Duncan in the face if he ever saw him in the flesh. ‘Duncan?’ he’d forced himself to ask, and her bemused expression made him feel like the king of the world. She shook her head, putting the paper back into her bag and sliding back under the covers with him. The light from the window lit the room dimly, and he’d kissed her tears away, one by one.
‘Can you tell me?’
She smiled at him, moving her body closer to his and kissing him once, slowly on the lips.
‘I love that you asked me that way,’ she said, kissing him again as if she couldn’t resist. He loved it when she did that. They were getting closer, and it was getting harder to be around her without telling her how he felt. ‘It’s not my secret to tell, and the letters aren’t about me. Or my stupid ex-husband. He can’t hurt me anymore, not now. I promise, I’ll tell you when I can.’
Cillian knew she was speaking the truth. Over time, April had grown into her own skin here. She took care of everyone and required no fanfare or thanks. She fitted into his world perfectly, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so content. It was enough for now – he would make sure of that. He didn’t want to see this woman get hurt again, and it was that fear that had kept him from telling her his own truths.
Her voice filled the van again. ‘Yes, it does sound weird, but I—’
‘You can’t tell me, but it’s not about you. I heard you, baby.’ He parroted her own words back to her, tooting at a car that was trying to reverse-park into a side road, oblivious of the people walking behind him. ‘Okay, okay. I trust you, I’m on my way.’
She rang off, and he drove to Lizard Point, thinking to himself about what the women in his life were going to get up to today, and how good April would feel in his arms later that night. Anything further than that was just not on his radar now. No need to rock the boat. That was when people fell out, and things were lost forever. It could wait just a little longer.
***
Martha sat in the van and looked out of the window in complete silence. She’d been feeling better lately, and she knew that handing the letters to April had helped. Somehow, the fact that April was reading the letters, and still wanted something to do with her, it helped. She felt lighter than she had in years. The love that she hadn’t spoken out loud was known to another now, another who wasn’t already gone. Charlie had been a good confidant in death, but the guilt she felt for talking to one man about the other wasn’t something that she had banked on. She’d made her choice, that fateful day, and she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. She could have walked away from Charlie. Maybe she would have done, if her life had started now. Perhaps she would have been the one to run to the Pines as a single young woman. Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.
Regrets were slippery little buggers, always sneaking up on people and biting them in the arse. Everyone always spoke of living your life once, and living it well. Without regrets, or doubts, but the truth was, life just wasn’t that simple. How could it be? We are all the stars of our own life stories, but to others, we can also be the villain in theirs. Duncan and Tina, the villains of her favourite awkward couple for example. They still dictated the lives of Cillian and April, whether they knew it or not. It was all very vexing to Martha, and what was worse? She cared now. She’d always had a soft spot for Cillian. When he was an excited, expectant dad she had cheered him on, but then the chalet park had gone downhill, and he’d had to leave. She’d never imagined he would be back, let alone as a
