Page 42 of A Miracle on Hope Street
‘Thank you for kicking my ass into gear,’ he says to me, squeezing my hand. ‘You’ve done something for me that I didn’t think anyone ever would again.’
‘And what’s that?’ I ask him, recalling how I’d called him a coward and accused him of hiding away from his responsibilities.
‘You showed me you cared. Just like you did that night on Hope Street, Ruth; you showed me that it’s never too late to make things better.’
Then, without hesitation, I lean into his warmth and when he puts his strong arm around me, I feel the rush, the energy and the lift that human contact can really bring.
I feel his breath on my neck, I feel his heart beat in his chest and I allow myself to relax into this moment, to savour the mutual understanding that we both fought so hard tonight to find.
‘I hope you find the forgiveness you are looking for,’ I say to him, finding my professional voice that I’d masked briefly for a moment.
‘It’s almost Christmas, Ruth,’ he says to me. ‘I can’t let another year end without doing something I should have tried to do so long ago. Thank you for making me realise that tonight.’
‘Go find him,’ I say to him. ‘I wish you all the luck in the world – and if you ever need me to kick your ass again, I’ll always be your friend.’
Michael squeezes me closer to him.
‘That means the absolute world to me, Ruth,’ he whispers. ‘You’re a fiery little thing when you want to be, you know that.’
I laugh a little.
‘You’re not too bad yourself,’ I remind him. ‘You gave as good as you got, and it’s got me thinking about my own situation too, so I think we’re even.’
We both sit up now and stare out at the water again and I feel like something has shifted inside of me. I see a fear in Michael about facing up to his past and it makes me wonder how scared my mother might be right now as she battles with the decisions she made when we were all so much younger. Maybe, after my chat with Michael, I’m ready to understand her a little bit more, but time will tell, I suppose.
‘Thanks for tonight, Ruth, arguments and all,’ Michael says to me, letting out a deep breath that comes from his core. ‘I’m going to go and find my boy and try to make amends once and for all before it kills me inside and I think it’s time you reached out to your mother too.’
I look at his handsome dark eyes.
‘Yes, I think you’re right,’ I say to him, my mind mixed up in a thousand thoughts. ‘I think it’s time for that too.’
Chapter Eighteen
My sister doesn’t allow me a word in edgeways when I call her from my bed later that evening to tell her all about my evening with Michael. Despite my arguments with him and debates and moments of truth that came to the surface during the evening, I like him, I suppose. I want to scream at him and tell him to get his shit together and I like that he does the same to me but Ally, however, isn’t so convinced. Her voice is starting to grate on me and I feel my defences rising. I sit up on the bed.
‘Well, it’s okay for you, Miss Perfect in your big, warm, family home with your doting husband and two point four children,’ I say to her, knowing deep down that her life and what she has or doesn’t have is totally irrelevant to what we are talking about. ‘You even have the big shaggy dog and the picket fence to go with it – you must think you have it all, telling me what to do.’
‘Er, you called me foradvice?’
‘Yes, but I didn’t think you’d tell me not to get too close to him just because he has a past?!’ I say to her. ‘It’s very easy for you to sit in your smug ivory tower and judge a man you have never met just because he has some baggage. We all have baggage, Ally! I admit that I was the same as you at first, but sometimes it just takes some tough love for us all to see what each of us are doing wrong. He gave it back to me about Mum and I respect him for that.’
‘He did?’ she asks. ‘Oh, the poor guy. I can just imagine your reaction.’
She giggles at the thought.
‘We had a good debate and it opened both of our eyes to what we each could do better,’ I continue. ‘Michael reminded me, I suppose, that it doesn’t make you a bad person just because you haven’t done everything in life by the book in the order of ABC.’
‘Good!’ says Ally. ‘As long as you both understand each other and there’s no bullshit, he sounds like he could become a good friend.’
‘Well, I think I should know better than most how not to fall for bullshit,’ I retort. ‘It’s not like I’ve fallen for it before, is it?’
That’s a big fat lie and we both know it. Ally bursts out laughing.
‘Er, you fell for that architect who was only trying to get his way to Margo Taylor so he could get free PR for his business!’ she reminds me.
‘I did not fall for him,’ I declare. ‘I liked him, yes, but anyhow, that was yonks ago. See, there you go again, judging. Judging me and judging my decisions.’
‘Judging? I only wish your picture-perfect description of my life was true,’ she says, actually snorting now with laughter. ‘You forgot to mention how the big, shaggy dog I have sheds hairs all over the house and refuses to be toilet trained so that I spend most of my time mopping up urine or hoovering up hairs. Then there’s how my darling husband sometimes drives me so insane that I want to commit a very serious crime like murder or something, or how my two point four children as you describe them leave everything at their backsides and sometimes fight so much that I want to book myself into an asylum for a bloody holiday! Nobody is perfect, Ruth. You are absolutely right and I’m so glad you have realised it at last. I’m not perfect, this guy Michael isn’t perfect – and believe it or not, Ruth, neither are you. You, Ruth Ryans, are not perfect and you never will be.’
