Seacliff

Chapter ninety-six: 'I love you'

2019

"Pauline died a month later," Saoirse concluded, "on August fifth, 1982. She left behind a black pearl and a journal filled with all the details she could remember about... about Aidan, and his family. For years, I refused to read it."

Kallik patted her back and Aoife squeezed her hand.

Saoirse smiled. "Then I forgot about it. As you do. With two small kids and then Stacy's husband back in the picture out of the blue... They'd never divorced, so he... We couldn't stop him from getting involved with the kids. They hated their lesbian mom as teenagers. So, Stacy and I... we leaned on each other, because that was all we had. I couldn't go chasing ghosts."

Saoirse stood up to grab a paper towel from the countertop behind her. Then she rinsed her glass at the sink and drank some water.

"Stacy passed away three years ago," she resumed. "Of old age. In our little mountain cabin, forsaken by her family. All this time, unbeknownst to me... she had carried that journal everywhere we went. And on her deathbed, that was her last wish – read the damn thing. Find your family. So, I did. And now I'm here."

"And now you're here," Aoife repeated.

Her veiny, shivering hand reached out for her niece. Faster and nearer than Aidan, Kallik rose and helped the old woman to her feet. Saoirse welcomed the embrace with open arms.

"We're very happy to have you," Aoife added, holding onto her niece's hands as she pulled away. Her wrinkled, spotted thumb rubbed the smooth silver of the Claddagh ring on Saoirse's hand. Her aunt had insisted that she wear it with the point of the heart towards her fingertips, to signal that she was looking for love. "And we won't be letting you go anytime soon!"

Laughter filled the air and Fiona raised her glass.

"I'll drink to that!" the Highlander called out.

"So will I." Aidan followed suit, clinking it against Fiona's, his broken, bleeding heart full to the brim.

When he retreated to bed that night, skin to skin in Fiona's arms, he relished her warmth like never before. The comfort of her embrace, of her mere presence... it made him determined not to let love slip through his fingers again.

*

Aidan woke up with a jolt from a bad dream on Christmas morning. Try as he might, he couldn't piece the memory of it back together. All that remained was a lingering sensation of unease. He chalked it up to spending the winter holidays in his childhood home for the first time in forever and got out of bed. Nature called.

The grandfather clock in the front room, a vestige from another era, seemed to stare at him when he climbed downstairs. Despite the numerous refurbishments and modernisations which had kept the Lodge liveable throughout the years, his sister had insisted on maintaining the décor in the front room, including the fireplace.

The hearth wasn't the room's main source of heat any longer, but the wood crackling and hissing behind the fire screen propelled him back in time like a missile. Aidan plopped down on the adjacent sofa, overwhelmed.

For some reason, he remembered Aoife's first Christmas, the whole family gathered together in this very room, him sitting beside his mum on the settee, who bounced the five-month-old baby on her knee. Natsume and his dad on an armchair each, Sorley on the other side of Saoirse. His mum helping Aidan hold his sister, and how that feeling of Aoife nestled in the crook of his elbow quickened his heartrate.

Fiona picked up on the second ring. "Hello?" she answered, sounding distant.

"Merry Christmas!" he exclaimed as cheerily as he could. "How are you?"

"Aw, thanks, happy Christmas, love!" Her voice was closer now. "I'm finishing up dinner preparations with me mum. How about you?"

"Wow, you lot are up early! I just woke up." A yawn punctuated that statement.

Fiona giggled. Then a stretch of silence. "I miss you already," she whispered.

Warmth replaced the tension in his veins and he relaxed, lowering himself on the sofa. "I miss you, too. Less than a week now. Are you having any guests for dinner?"

"Ugh, lots."

He could hear the eyeroll in her voice.

"Don't get me wrong," she added, "I love my family to bits and I'm happy to see them, there's just so many people."

"I thought you liked people. You're a bartender, after all."

"Yeah, but there's usually a counter between me and the people. How about you? Any guests for Christmas?"

"You mean, other than Saoirse? I don't know. Da might drop by. He'll be here for Hogmanay, though, so you can meet him."

"What about Kallik?"

Aidan's breath caught in his throat. "What about him?"

Fiona chuckled. "Is he coming to the Lodge for Christmas?"

"Why would he?"

"Well, didn't you two have a thing?"

Aidan blushed, stretched out on the sofa. "A... thing is the only accurate description of whatever it is that we had, past tense."

"But didn't your father and his brother..."

"Don't – Please don't remind me."

Fiona laughed, hearty peals ringing in his ears. The amusement hung in the air for a long second. An intense sensation pierced through his chest, like a flame burning hotter and brighter. It seared his throat shut and made his limbs tingle.

All of the things he'd had were past tense now. She was his present.

"Fiona," he said, breathless, "I love you."