Page 107 of Worth Every Risk

What is she searching for? She’s staring so intently that she can’t possibly just be examining my suit, my shoes, my face. It’s as though she’s seeing right through to the core of my being; my thoughts and feelings and emotions, and assessing every single one. I’m not sure anyone has ever paid as close attention to me as this woman is doing now.

The only sound in the room is the clock on the wall. I hadn’t noticed it ticking before, but now each movement of the second hand is thunderously loud. I break eye contact with Mrs McClennon to look up at it. On the large, cream face is written, ‘Relax. Time is an illusion’.

“It is, you know,” Mrs McClennon says, and I turn back to find her piercing blue eyes still fixed on me. “An illusion. All we have is the ever present now. No past, no future.”

I clench my teeth to stop my eye-roll in its tracks and then have the almost irresistible urge to check the time on my watch. I dig my fingertips into my thigh to prevent it. “Right.” The word spins out, elongated, like I think she’s a madwoman. “You should get rid of the clock then.”

Fuck. Shouldn’t have said that.

I begin to worry I’ve offended her when a cacophony of phlegmy laughter sounds from her mouth. “You’re something.”

I have no idea what to say to that. I’m not even sure she expects a response. Her tone is assessing, as if she’s weighing me up and finding me… not quite wanting, but something less than complete. It’s unnerving. If she were anyone else, I would have walked away already, or at least told her to stop staring. As it is, I’m sitting here waiting for her to give me some insight into herthoughts while simultaneously hoping Aries returns before she says anything else.

She leans towards me, eyes suddenly serious. “You’ll be good to my wee girl, won’t you?”

My heart performs an awkward kick-start. “Yes.”

“Good.” She waves a bony-fingered hand at my chest, her eyes going all unfocused. “You’ve got stuff trapped here. Pain. Sadness. Anger.”

I sit back a little in the chair. I didn't like the way she was examining me before, but this is worse. It's like she’s sliced into me and is checking through the layers of my body. “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Some. Most, probably. But not everyone.” She slurps at her tea. It must be cold by now. “It’s hard, if you’ve had a lot of disappointment in life. We build walls. Block people out. Some people never take them down.”

What the fuck is she talking about? Is she still talking about me, or people in general?I have no clue.

“It can be hard to let go of the pain,” she adds.

My body grows rigid. I’m not comfortable with this. I glance at the door.Where the fuck is Aries?

“She’s strong, you know. Passionate. A true Aries.” Mrs McClennon laughs. “My little ram.” Then her lips form a tight line. “But she’s not strong enough for both of you.”

Jesus. What the fuck is this conversation?Even Lizzie over by the table has grown still, listening in.

“You have to feel your own pain, Mr Hawkston. Release it. She can’t do that for you. She’s a wonderful girl, but she’s not a solution. Not a bandage for all your wounds.”

“I’m not… that’s not what… Christ, I’m not expecting Aries to fix me. Is that what you’re getting at here?” Frustration simmers beneath my skin, and at the same time an awareness surfaces that this is exactly what this woman is talking about. I inhale,long and slow, then exhale the same way. My fingers tighten on the arms of the chair.

Mrs McClennon sits back, her expression softening. “Let me help you.”

I scoff, and when her eyes widen, I immediately regret it. “Sorry. I don’t need help.”

“You do.” Her voice is gentle, but there’s an edge to it that has the hair on the back of my neck rising. A noise sounds out in the hall. Thank fuck, Aries must be coming back. “No. Really, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” The word catches me off guard, my breath stalling in my throat for a second. Lizzie glances over at us, like a dog hearing a shot in the distance, then goes back to arranging the flowers. “I’m dying, Mr Hawkston. You can faff and bluster around as much as you want, avoiding the truth. Your time is your time. Your now is your now. But it doesn’t pay for me to waste mine not saying what I mean. Aries likes you. A lot. I can sense it, and I don’t want to leave this world knowing I didn’t do everything or say everything to protect my only child. So shut up and listen to me.”

Wow. This woman’s directness is so intense that I want to laugh, but not because it’s funny. It’s overwhelming, and laughter would be a release. And yet, her directness is not surprising at all. Aries is such a live-wire that she must have been raised by someone with spunk. “All right. I’m listening.”

“Do you give me permission to send you healing, every night until I die?”

A shiver ripples through my whole body. “I’m not sure what you’re offering.”

“You don’t have to do anything. Nothing at all. You won’t even know. I just need your permission to work in your energy field.”

This is a load of fucking rubbish. As if this woman could have any impact on me from up here, across the border, when I’m back home.

“It’s like prayer,” she adds, evidently having taken my silence as confusion. “Can I pray for you?”

Might as well humour her. “Sure. Whatever. If you want to.”

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