“Uncle Callie’s here Daddy,” she yells to John.
Callum hugs her hard, smelling her little girl hair. The minute she wraps her arms around his neck, he knows. He knows that he wants a Clara of his own, maybe two or three. He wants to be a Daddy and fish the surf with his own little children. He wants babies to sleep in his lap and he wants Victoria to be his wife. He doesn’t just want the love, Callum wants the whole life.
Easter is a crowded weekend at Osprey Island. John’s parents, Conrad and Jane, Aunt Susannah and her partner, Meredith, come and stay in the house next door. Anna’s mother, Ellen, and her husband, Rodrigo, stay in the house with John and Anna. Easter dinner includes neighbors and friends. Everyone brings a covered dish or desert and John cooks a ham and two turkeys. Barbara and Joe from next door organize an Easter egg hunt for the kids. It is like a weekend out of a magazine.
As much as Callum loves his time with his sister and he enjoys this perfect place and these wonderful people, he misses his life in Asheville. He has found a family there.
On Callum’s last night, after the kids have gone to bed and grandparents and aunts and uncles have returned to their respective cities, Callum, John and Anna sit up late with a bottle of wine and a roaring fire. John and Anna sit on the leather couch, legs entwined, looking relaxed and content, even after the chaotic holiday.
“It’s been great having you here Callum. My family was happy to get to know you.” John says.
“They are marvelous John. You are so blessed. The kids, this place, this life. Both of you are so lucky.”
Anna frowns. “That is a load of crap.”
Callum laughs. He likes having a sister very much. “Whatever do you mean sweet sister?”
“Sure. It is all sunshine and rainbows. We have certainly lived happily ever after. But getting here was hard work. We aren’t fucking blessed. We aren’t lucky. We did the work.”
John nods, agreeing with Anna. “Things started out rough for us Callum. What’s the story with you and Victoria? We haven’t really had a chance to talk with the crowds here.”
Callum debates what to tell them. He sips his wine and watches the flames dance over the logs and he considers what to share. He is done lying. What is the damn point? If he wants a relationships with Anna, he can’t only show her the best possible version of himself. He wants to be a real person.
“I love her, but she won’t love me.” He lays his head back into the leather of his chair. Saying the words out loud feels good, even though it hurts like hell.
“Doesn’t love you or won’t love you,” Anna asks.
“Won’t. I think she does. But she won’t engage with me on a deeper level. We are sort of dating and sleeping together but living like housemates. I want more.”
“What do you want Callum?” John asks.
“I want what you two have,” Callum says and drains his glass. “I want love and kids and all of this.”
Anna frowns again. She looks to John and even Callum can tell she wants John to do the talking this time.
“I know it’s fast,” Callum says defensively.
John holds Anna’s leg and takes his turn. “Callum, I am sure Victoria is an incredible woman and sometimes these things happen fast. Anna and I were married inside of three months. But Callum, a few months ago you were here and damn depressed over another woman.”
“I know that,” Callum admits.
Anna sits up, leaning towards her brother. “Does Victoria know that?”
Callum nods.
“Callum, she doesn’t trust you. You are coming off a bit fickle.” Anna says as gently as she can. “What do you want in the longer term?”
“I want to marry her. I want to make a life in Asheville. I want to be a father to her daughter and I want children with her.” Freeing these words is both liberating and terrifying.
“And what does she want?” Anna asks.
“She wants me to go back to England to face Elizabeth and Jeremy. She doesn’t believe I’m done with England and serious about Asheville.”
“Are you working Callum?” John asks.
Callum shakes his head. “First the leg and then, well, it just didn’t make sense to commit to something if Victoria isn’t interested in being together longer term.”
Anna gets up and sits on the coffee table in front of her brother. “Darling, Victoria is never going to take you seriously unless you commit to something besides her. You seem to be biding time to go back. I can’t blame her a bit.”
“I’m completely devoted to her and to Marina. And George for that matter. I don’t understand how I am coming across as cavalier.”
John empties the bottle among their glasses. “Here it is Callum. She thinks she’s your layover and you are biding your time until you get on the next flight. You can be as devoted as you want, but it isn’t a commitment unless you commit to something. Or else it’s just words.”
“More doing, less talking about doing, Callum. She’ll see you’re serious when you show her you are.”
“Fuck,” Callum says. He wonders if he should tell them the rest. The rape is her business, hers and Marina’s. His friendship with Christopher is becoming complicated. He has been spending more and more time with Christopher and Randy over the last month. There has been talk of a cookout and getting families together. Callum doesn’t think he can keep this deception going much longer. He decides to say nothing more about it.
“I need to shut everything down in England. I need some closure with Jeremy and even Elizabeth, don’t I? And I need a fucking job. Fuck.” He runs both hands through his hair in frustration.
“You’ll get there Callum. It’s a process,” John says, quoting his therapist, Dr. Lane.
Nine
As the weather starts to warm and spring takes hold, Victoria knows she can’t go on living in limbo. George is holding on, but the indecision over what to do about Marina is keeping her up at night. She knows Callum is uncomfortable with the secrets. After his Easter visit, it is especially obvious that Anna means the world to him and keeping Marina from her siblings just seems cruel. Victoria considers seeing a therapist to talk through the possibilities, but she can’t bear the thought of telling it all to another person. Callum knows and that is enough.
After Easter, Callum seemed very determined to move forward with opening a business. Victoria doesn’t think he is serious, but he has spent the last few weeks in near seclusion with George, out at some site he has kept a big secret from her. His easy smile has been replaced with a serious, determined, somewhat absent-minded scowl.
On her way home from work, Callum texts. Marina and George are set for dinner. Will you meet me? I have a bit of a surprise. He includes an address downtown and she parks in front of a storefront her father owned years before. It was a café for many years and, before that, a bakery. The large glass window is covered with brown paper so she can’t see inside. Very ornate black and gold lettering on the window reads, Townsend Cooking Academy. Victoria drops her handbag to the sidewalk and stands and stares until Callum opens the door.
“Surprise!” He smiles a very proud smile with his arms open wide, gesturing to his school.
“Are you serious?” she says.
“As a heart attack. Oh, that isn’t as funny given George’s condition. You get my meaning though.” He waits for her to jump into his arms. He waits for smiles and gushing and declarations of love. He waits, but all he gets is her staring dumbfounded at the lettering.
“What do you think?” he asks, growing impatient.
And she starts to cry. Not heart wrenching sobs. Not tears of joy. But tears of genuine sadness.
“I don’t understand,” he says. “I thought you might be happy.”
She touches his check and then kisses his lips. “I am Callum. I am so happy you are making a life for yourself.”
“That isn’t my meaning at all,” he protests. “I want to make a life with you.”
She kisses his lips again, gets
back in her car and drives off. It is all Callum can do not to put a hammer through that window. He goes back inside and decides to finish the paint. He can sleep when he’s dead. The paint is dark brown, a stark contrast to the stainless steels counters, ovens and sinks, but it complements the exposed pipes in the ceiling and the ancient woodwork and wrought iron trimmings. He loads paint into a roller and takes out all of his frustrations on the walls. Hours later, he is exhausted starving and still devastated when he hears a light tap on the glass.
Callum opens the door and Victoria steps in, not bothering to survey the space at all. She takes his face into her hands and kisses him. She can apologize without words. He locks the door and leans her into it, hard. His mouth, lips, devour her neck. His hand holds her hair while he pulls at her clothes. Within moments, her skirt is around her waist, panties are on the floor and his pants are around his knees. He grips one of her knees to his waist and is about to bury himself inside of her. He is frantic and angry, and it is exactly what he needs, but it feels wrong… too rough. He won’t let her be an object, something he uses to blow off steam. He drops her knee and walks away from her, abruptly.
“Callum, come back here, what are you doing?” she asks in genuine frustration.
He shakes his head. “No, it’s too much. It’s too fast. It isn’t who I want to be with you.”
“Callum get back here right now and finish what you started,” she insists.
He hesitates, but complies after adjusting the level of his own sexual intensity dramatically. He slows his pace and tends to her with the care she deserves. She comes, but not loudly, before he comes too. He catches himself on the door and slows his breathing, before kicking off his pants, pulling off his tee shirt and walking naked to the cooler to get two bottles of water.
He hands one to Victoria, sits on the dark wood steps that lead to the second floor and drinks his water down. Victoria reassembles her skirt and sits cross-legged on the floor, leaning against the door, finally surveying Callum’s cooking school.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” she comments too lightly.
“What the hell Victoria,” he says. You can’t fuck away this level of anger. “Am I doing the wrong thing? I really did think you’d be genuinely pleased.”
She shakes her head and frowns. “I don’t know Callum. I don’t know anything anymore.”
“What do you mean? Did you prefer the thought of me as a temporary fixture? Fucking the nanny and all?” he asks with growing frustration.
“No. Of course not, but I feel like I’m just hanging on sometimes Callum. Seeing you do all this reminds me that I have done nothing about Marina. This is a huge step for you. For us.”
“You don’t want this, do you?” He is finally starting to understand.
“Callum, I can’t do anything. I can’t move forward in any way until I figure things out with Marina.”
He leans his arms onto his knees. “You need to tell her Victoria. She needs to know. He needs to know too. He seems very different now. Maybe it can work out.”
“I don’t want him in my life Callum. I don’t want him anywhere near my daughter.”
Callum debates for the one hundredth time if he should tell her what he knows about Christopher. Would it help her to know he is in recovery? Would she let Marina be a part of his life then? His best friend is a gay, divorced romance writer. Would knowing that help? As much as he wants to tell her, he knows he will come across as standing shoulder to shoulder with her rapist. She’ll never hear any of it.
“She needs to know,” he says again.
Victoria is done talking so she gets up and walks the shop. She studies the appliances, word work, counter tops.
“This is something Callum.” She is truly impressed.
“There is classroom space upstairs,” he says. “The third floor is an apartment.”
“Are you moving out?” she asks with the perfect amount of fear in her voice. Finally, he is pleased at her reaction.
“Not now, with George sick I’m not. But I can’t live off you forever. Look at the shop across the street,” he says changing the subject. “That is where you should start.”
Christopher’s wife owns Augustine Arts, the gallery that is Callum’s new neighbor.
Callum dresses silently and covers the paint can. He sets the brushes and rollers to soak. Finally he switches off the lights and they step out onto the curb. Callum takes Victoria’s hand and lays the keys to his building in her hand.
“My life literally rests in the palm of your hand,” he says, always good at theatrics. He closes her palm around the keys, brushes his lip across her fingertips and walks off to his car.
The next day Mindy calls to coerce Victoria to join the middle school Spring Auction Committee. Reluctantly, Victoria agrees to visit a few local shops and pick up donations for the fundraiser. Of the shops that need to be visited, Victoria selects Augustine Arts because Callum is right. Christopher’s wife is the place to start. Enough avoidance. She has to do something.
When Victoria walks into the gallery, a gentle bell announces her arrival, and the smell of vanilla tickles her nose. Local landscapes are well spaced for effect on stark white walls. Exquisite pottery and sculptures cast from recycled metals are displayed on tables around the small room. She is dressed in stylish, probably expensive, cream-colored slacks that flow around heeled black boots, and she greets Victoria with an easy smile. Her simple black tee shirt and blonde ponytail give an entirely different impression. Casual, down to earth, simplicity. Her face is clean of make-up except for a slight tint on her lips. A few freckles dance across her nose under warm green eyes.
“Good afternoon, thanks for coming in today?” She offers Victoria a hand and the easy gesture makes Victoria wonder if Grace already knows who she is, what happened, and that their daughters are sisters.
Victoria doesn’t know why, but she has an urge to embrace this woman she has never met, like family. The urge is strong and a little bewildering. Instead she introduces herself, taking the offered hand.
“Hi there,” Victoria clears her throat because the words are sticking. “I’m Victoria. I…”
“Of course, Victoria,” Grace’s smile never falters, “My, you are gorgeous and you have your Daddy’s eyes.”
Victoria smiles at the compliment, but the smile is a little forced.
“I heard you were coming back to town. I am so happy to meet you. Welcome back to Asheville,” Grace speaks in a voice that is as inviting and welcoming as only a born and bred southern woman could manage, under challenging circumstances.
And then the unthinkable happens. Grace pulls Victoria into her arms. They are about the same height and Grace squeezes her top to bottom, hard. This isn’t one of those polite hugs where shoulder meets shoulder. This is the hug of friends or family who have been reunited after many years apart. Victoria’s eyes threaten to fill.
“I’m sorry, I guess I should tell you who I am.” Grace smooths Victoria’s jacket back around her waist and turns the sign on the door to Closed.
“Do you drink tea?” She asks, already moving toward the back room, holding a red curtain aside for Victoria. Grace fills a kettle at the sink. A small, mosaic-topped bistro table with two blue cushioned chairs rests against the back wall. Brown boxes are stacked against the side walls. Victoria follows her to the table and she doesn’t even want to dart out the back door. She is mesmerized by this woman’s simple, understated elegance and her manner that perfectly suits her name.
“My Daddy and your Daddy used to work together. Asheville is such a small world. Your Daddy works with my husband’s Daddy. I think you might have gone to school together. Christopher Augustine?”
Victoria nods silently.
“Not long after you moved… west I think?”
Again Victoria nods.
“Not long after that, our Daddies were working for the same firm. They partnered on a few big projects. You know that new shopping center down by the mansion
?”
Victoria nods her head robotically.
“They worked that one together.” Grace sets out cups with spoons and sugar, and then a small blue plate with Madelines. Victoria can’t resist Madelines.
“Oh,” is Victoria’s only contribution to the conversation.
“A million years ago, there was a conference in Disneyworld of all places. I met my husband at Cinderella’s damn Castle. Have you ever heard anything more cliché? Anyway, all of our families went, there was an award for development in Asheville and all of our families were invited. The end. Too much me talking. Tell me about you.”
Grace sets a steaming cup of tea in front of Victoria. Victoria bites the soft, orange scented cookie.
“How long have your been married?” Victoria asks.
“Going on twelve years. But that’s not about you, that’s me. Tell me about the great west. Where’d you live?”
“Utah.”
“Oh lovely. More mountains.” Grace says and then sips her tea expectantly, but Victoria has nothing else to say and she shifts in her seat wondering how she let herself get into this.
“Do you want to donate an item for the middle school spring auction?” Victoria asks.
“Of course. I have something picked out already. It’s all boxed up behind the register. Are you here to pick it up?”
Victoria nods.
Grace sets her cup down. “I am so embarrassed. You were just popping in and I railroaded you into all this.” She waves her hand at the tea and cookies. “I’m so sorry Victoria.”
Victoria shakes her head. “No, no. This is nice. What’s your husband like?” She asks a little abruptly because she’ll never have another opportunity like this.
“Do you remember him at all?” Grace asks.
“Some.”
“Then you know he is driven. Fiercely driven. I love him dearly, but he is driven to a fault. And he is sweet and kind and an amazing father. He loves his kids like no one else.”
Victoria works hard to keep a neutral facial expression and not frown.
Forever Falling Page 17