Page 72 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
Chapter Eighteen
Megan had failed.
She’d lost everything again.
The hurt pressed under her ribs as she stared at her crumpled expression in the mirror. She couldn’t hold back the pain. She started crying. Her soul pot. All her beautiful creations. Fifty-two of them. She’d been so proud of her work.
All she wanted to do was crawl into bed. Forget everything. The pull was so strong.
Why did you think you could do this, little girl?
Her father’s voice.
He’d never believed she could do anything. No one had. Until Kade…
She’d been so happy earlier, happier than she’d ever been, but those feelings had been extinguished like her pots. She couldn’t feel anything beyond despair now, and it was overwhelming her like she was drowning in the sea.
She had to fight. Somehow. Or all of the progress she’d made in the past few months would be gone too. She fisted her hands, crying softly. She didn’t want to feel like this. She wanted to feel like she did with Kade. Like she did while making her pots. Like she did when Ollie giggled.
She turned on the spout and splashed cold water on her face. Looked into her sorry reflection.Stop it, Megan. Stop this. Right now.
“Oh, Megan,” she heard Angie say as her sister’s arms came around her, pulling her into a hug. “I know it’s awful. I can’t imagine how I would feel if all my paintings had been destroyed. It would be like someone stabbing me in the heart.”
She turned and faced Angie, wiping at her eyes. “It helps a little to hear you say it. I was feeling sorry for myself.”
“Of course you were!” Her sister’s voice resounded in the bathroom. “You’d created a buttload of pots. Things of beauty. Hours of work down the drain. This sucks. You go ahead and feel bad about it.”
She rubbed her tingling nose. “I wasn’t just feeling bad. I felt the pull of depression. It…it made me want to get into bed and never try anything again. I even heard Dad’s voice in my head.”
“Tell it to take a hike,” Angie said, cupping her arm. “Forget Dad. Do you want some good news? I checked with Carrick before I came in here, but I thought this was the perfect time to tell you.”
“What?”
“We’re having a baby,” Angie said, her face lighting up.
Surprise breaking through the sadness, Megan looked at her sister’s tummy. “You are? Is that why you’ve looked tired? Oh, I should have guessed. Congratulations! I’m so happy for you and Carrick.”
And she could feel a little uptick in her emotions as the news settled in. Her sister was going to be a mother, and she would be an aunt. Ollie would have a cousin to dote on.
“We are too,” Angie said, patting her belly. “I’m pretty sure it happened the night the arts center opened. It’s wonderful and a little scary, especially since I’ve been barfing every morning and wanting to die. I mean, wouldn’t you think Mother Nature would have created a symptom that would make you feel happier about having a kid? Like craving chocolate or something? Puking sucks.”
“I remember doing that with Ollie, and it’s terrible.” She’d gone through it alone. Tyson had been off in Iraq or Afghanistan. She couldn’t remember. Their mom had told her it was completely normal. But it hadn’t felt normal as she’d stared into the white toilet bowl morning after morning, sick as a dog.
“So that’s our good news.” Angie slid her hand over her midsection and looked down. “It’s still early, and you’re the first person we’ve told, although you should know Kade guessed. He’s like a vault though, and Carrick knew he’d keep it to himself. Even though the two of you are— Should I say? Or are we still going to keep walking this crazy line where we don’t say much to each other?”
“It’s been good for us,” Megan said, brushing a drop of cold water from her temple. “But maybe it’s time we retire it. Mostly.”
Angie smiled. “I can do mostly. I’m so happy for you and Kade, and I just love your hair. You look more young and free than ever.”
She touched the ends. “I feel young and free, and I love Kade with all my heart. Did you know about Sorcha helping you guys?”
Her sister blinked. “He told you? Carrick told me when we first got together, and I’ve heard she’s helping you too. I smelled oranges in the kiln room when I arrived shortly after the firemen. I think she was hoping one of those eejits talked to spirits. I think she would have told him not to open the kiln.”
“I read about some potter saying you should put a padlock on it,” Megan admitted, feeling a little stupid again. “At the time, I thought it was overkill.”
“I’m the one who managed an arts center, and it didn’t even occur to me to change the sprinklers over the kiln to ones with higher temperature gauges.”
Probably because Angie had needed to close down the pottery unit at her former employer owing to budgetary restrictions. Much like the problems they were dealing with now in Caisleán.
