Page 74 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
Angie didn’t see it that way.
That diary had been her place to write about—and sketch—her private thoughts and dreams. But after Megan had broken into it, she’d never written or drawn in one again.
Again, she’d allowed someone to stop her from expressing. Maybe it was time for that to stop.
“You know, Megan,” she said, trying to say it as neutrally as possible, “it’s private—kinda like a diary entry. Nothing to do with you. Only something between me and Kade. All right?”
Megan’s mouth parted. “Are you still mad at me for that? For opening your diary?”
Angie nodded, feeling the solidity of the ground under her feet. “You never even apologized. So, yes, I am still a little mad. There’s nothing wrong with me wanting privacy and some space.”
Duke gave a bark as tears came into Megan’s eyes. “Maybe Ollie and I should give you more space. It seems to have helped your painting. Bets has the other cottage, and she offered it in the beginning. We can move there.”
Her stomach burned. “Maybe it would be for the best.” What had Kade said? “This way you can dip your toes in the shallow end of the pool, living on your own again. I’ll be close by still, and Bets and Liam are only up the drive. It has to happen sometime. Wanting space doesn’t mean I don’t love you and Ollie.”
Duke nuzzled Megan’s face as she wiped away tears. “No, of course not. It doesn’t mean we don’t love you either. But you’re still mad at me, and I don’t really know why. I’m your sister.”
Part of her wished one of the sheep would trot over with a word of guidance, but she was on her own. “Megan, you’re probably a little mad at me too, right? Being family doesn’t mean we can’t have those feelings toward each other. Honestly, you’ve been leaning on me a lot, and I’ve allowed it. Except it’s been taking me down. Hurting my creativity as much as my exes did. I know that can’t be easy to hear, but it’s time to get it out there. I figure I’ve been taking you down too.”
Her sister gulped. “Are you calling me needy?”
“A little. When was the last decision you made on your own?”
She threw up her hands. “How can I decide anything when everyone has always told me what to do? Or done it better than me?”
“We all have to learn sometime,” Angie said, folding her hands together. “I know things have been hard, but I’m rooting for you. Kade just told me Carrick had a big moment of healing, letting go of his wife’s words on his sheep. Megan, healing is possible.”
She took a step back, going gray. “I don’t want to get over Tyson. He was the love of my life. Something you’ll never understand.”
Angie sighed deeply. “Then I’m sorry for you because he’s gone, and you’ll be holding on to something that will keep hurting you. Ollie too. Ask Kade if you don’t believe me. Or Liam. He’s let his father go. It doesn’t mean you don’t love him, Megan.”
She put her hands over her ears as if to blot out Angie’s words. “That’s your art therapy training talking. You keep talking about me making judgments, but aren’t you doing the same? You’re still telling me what’s good for me.”
“You’re right,” Angie said, shifting on her feet. “I’m sorry if I ever made you feel wrong or bad about it. That’s part of the problem, Megan. We’ve formed this routine where we throw judgment after judgment at each other. There’s this push/pull of neediness and resentment. Let’s try to just beniceto each other. Maybe we might even be friends. Being sisters feels so charged sometimes.”
“You’ve thought an awful lot about this,” Megan said, setting Duke down.
“I have. And it’s helped me paint again. I can’t dismiss that. Not to you or myself.”
Her sister brushed aside more tears. Angie didn’t like to see her sister hurting. She never did. But she made herself hold her ground and not cross to her and say she was sorry for how she felt. To say so would be a betrayal to her very self. Besides, she truly believed this would be better for both of them in the long run.
“You should go on to the beach with Kade and Ollie,” she said gently. “You used to love going to the beach. I always wondered why you stopped.”
“Tyson didn’t like it,” Megan said, clenching her fists. “He didn’t think I was a strong swimmer, and he worried about me going with Ollie on my own when he was away.”
Which was most of their marriage in a nutshell. Tyson telling, Megan doing.
Oh, Megan.
Then she realized her relationships hadn’t been much different.
Oh, Angie.
“I’ll see you later,” her sister said as Duke pawed at her foot. “We’ll move out as soon as I can arrange it with Bets. Come on, Duke.”
Megan ran off, the fastest movement Angie had seen from her in years. Only this time she knew Megan wasn’t only running from her. She was running away from the memories that had flickered over her face in the end, something Angie couldn’t fix.
She eyed the cottage. Living alone again would be good for her too. She’d used her sister and Ollie moving in to distract her from losing her job and the disintegration of her relationship with Saul. She waited for the hurt and anger to rise up inside her now that she was alone, but there wasn’t a whisper of it.
