Page 33 of Troubles

“…I miss him so much…” There. We’re making progress. “Aidan, what am I going to do?”

“Lorna, you’re going to have a baby. A piece of Michael, a piece of his heart to hold close to you for the rest of your life. You don’t ever have to give him up, now.” Lord, don’t let that compound the sadness. “Tell me the good stuff. You’ve been to the doctor, yeah?”

My hand goes to the back of my neck, squeezing as I wait for her to say yes. To let me know she’s at least done this—Christ, she’s got to be four? Five months along? I don’t know.

“When are you due?”

Lorna sighs. “November…the end of the month.” She sniffs, but her voice is starting to sound stronger. “I heard the baby’s heartbeat, and all I could think is that Michael should be with me. God, he’d be beside himself.”

It feels like hours that we talk. About everything, about nothing, about my brother’s baby and how she’s going to be just fine. She needs to talk to both sets of grandparents—I can’t believe she’s not told them yet.

“Lorna, you need to take care of yourself. Think about how excited they’ll be.”

“I know. I think maybe…I wasn’t ready for the excitement part? I don’t want to be sad about such an amazing gift, but…it’s bittersweet, yeah? And I’m surrounded by him, but he’s not here. It’s…I don’t know. Maybe I need to move.”

She is surrounded by him. I tried to help her clear some of his things away after the funeral, but it was too soon. I didn’t make it a week before leaving Dublin. Trying to run from the grief.

“You need a holiday, maybe. Go shopping in London. Spend a few days at the beach. Visit a spa. Is that kind of thing okay for you to do?”

Finally, she lets out a laugh. It’s small and sad, but it’s a move in the right direction. “Yeah. I can do those things. I just feel like I should save every penny—I don’t know. And alone? That kind of thing’s not fun alone, Aidan.”

“Don’t worry about the money. I’ll send it to you. Take a girlfriend. Take one of our sisters—Christ, there’s enough of them to choose from.”

We were both from big families, but Lorna and I had been close. Close in age, growing up together we were always running about. At their wedding, I was both the best man and the man of honor.

The last of my whiskey slides down my throat as my thoughts turn to my niece or nephew. “Will you find out whether it’s a boy or a girl?”

“I will. Next month, I think. You could…you could go with me? I miss you, Aidan. Are…are you coming home soon?”

No. Maybe.

Her question asks for answers that I can’t give her right now.

“I don’t know. I’m doing well here. I’m settled.” Torn. I’m absolutely torn. I ran away from Dublin and now—now there’s a reason for me to stay here. “I’ll send you some money. Go somewhere—take care of you and we’ll talk soon, yeah?”

Fucking hell.

I log on to my bank account and send a good chunk of money to Lorna. Enough for a holiday and some extra to help ease the expense of setting up for a baby—or to help ease my conscience. I want to stay. I want to see what this is with Lisbeth. I want a chance at the happiness my brother and Lorna had—just no tragic ending.

Jimmy eases out the door and joins me with the bottle of whiskey resting at his side. “Was that Lorna, then?” He pours a good measure for each of us. “She tell you, finally?”

“She did.”

The street light illuminates the amber liquid as I swirl it around my glass. Legs stretched out in front of me, I lean my head back against the side of the building and close my eyes. Jimmy lowers himself down next to me and waits. Patiently. He nods and sips his whiskey as I fill him in on all that Lorna and I talked about.

“What are you goin’ to do?” He shifts his eyes from the faint smattering of stars barely visible above us to my face. Gaging where my head is. “Are you leaving? Goin’ back home?”

The question sucks just as bad the second time I’m asked it tonight. “I don’t know.”

21

Lis

Gracyn is burrowed into the end of the couch with a glass of wine watching shit TV when I get home. “Hey. How’d it go today?”

“Not yet. Give me a minute?” I go straight to my room and ditch my clothes for jammies. Wrapping my hair in the messiest of all buns, I make a beeline for the glasses and bring the rest of the open bottle of wine to the living room. “Okay. I’m ready.”

“You get the grade on your test yet?” Gracyn peers at me over the top of her glass.

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