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“Then we’ll get married, and they won’t have a choice in the matter.”
“Just like that?” I laughed.
“Yep.” He snapped his finger for emphasis. “Just like that.”
“So we get married when I turn eighteen and you steal me away to Dublin,” I mused, playing along now. “What happens then, huh? When you’re at university. Where do I finish secondary school?”
“Easy,” Hugh filled in breezily when I rested my head on his shoulder. “You’ll attend Royce College, whose head of enrollment, by the way, will be so impressed by your impressive transcript, they will practically snap your hand off to enroll you.”
“Hmm.” Releasing a sigh of contentment, I gripped his forearms, forcing him to tighten his hold on me. “You sound like you’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“That’s because I have.”
“Since when?”
“Since the day you told me you would say yes if I asked you to marry me,” he replied without a hint of hesitation. “So you better keep that heart beating, ya hear?” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder. “Because I need you, Lizzie Young. More than you realize.”
“I will,” I whispered. “I promise.”
BREAKING BREAD AND MENDING BRIDGES
Hugh
JUNE 24, 2000
SPRAWLED OUT ON A MOUNTAIN OF CUSHIONS ON MY GIRLFRIEND’S BEDROOM FLOOR, I tapped on the controller in my hands and stared at the screen in front of me, only half-interested in the game I was playing.
I’d brought my old gaming console over to Lizzie’s place last weekend and had set it up on the fourteen-inch portable in her bedroom. The graphics were dog shit compared to the top-of-the-range PS1 back at my own house, but it came in useful on days like this, when she couldn’t lift her head off the pillow and I couldn’t quite get myself to leave her bedside.
She was sleeping now, and I wasn’t sure if her catatonic state was from sedatives or exhaustion. I suspected both. The doctor had made an out-of-hours house visit today, and I knew she’d been given an injection of some sort.
I had faith Liz would get through this, that she would eventually come back to me, but her lows were intensifying in both length and frequency, and I couldn’t be sure if her grief was the driving force behind it or her bipolar disorder.
It was heartbreaking to watch her fade away in front of my eyes and know that there was nothing I could do to stop the depression from consuming her. My only solace when she was like this was the fact that she was too exhausted to hurt herself. At least when she was experiencing a depressive episode, I could stand guard over her.
I can keep her safe.
A low knock sounded on her bedroom door, followed by Mike popping his head around the door. His eyes went to his daughter first before settling on me. When he was satisfied that I was a safe distance from her bed, he nodded in approval. “Any movement?”
“Not since the doctor knocked her out,” I replied, pressing pause on my game to give him my full attention. “How’s Catherine?”
Mike shook his head, and that was enough to tell me that his wifewasn’tgood. “Come downstairs for a bite to eat, son.” His gaze flicked to his daughter once more and he sighed. “She’ll be out for the night.”
“I was unfair to you, Hughie,” Mike announced as we sat across the kitchen table from each other. “After the funeral, I let my grief blind me. You’ve always been a good lad, and I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you.”
“You were under a lot of pressure,” I offered, shoveling a forkful of pasta into my mouth. “Still are.”
“True,” he replied, clearing his throat. “But I’m not too proud to admit that my wife and I couldn’t have gotten through the past couple of months without your help.”
Unsure of what to say, I simply nodded my head and continued eating.
“It’s her anniversary,” he added after a long beat. “Two months today.”
“Yeah.” Releasing a pained sigh, I set my cutlery down and leaned back in my chair, giving the man my full attention. “I know.”
“Caoimhe Catherine Young,” he whispered, staring lifelessly across the table at me. “My beautiful, blue-eyed baby girl.”
I wanted to tell him that he had another blue-eyed baby girl upstairs in bed, but I didn’t have the heart to kick the man when he was down, especially since he made the effort to cook a meal for me. The fact that I was the only one eating while he nursed a tumbler of whiskey was proof to that pudding.
