Forever Falling

by Paige Randall

  “Of course I was coming Callum. You had enough on your plate and you certainly didn’t need to worry about making arrangements for me. John was so sorry not to attend, but babies are nothing but a pain in the ass at these things. Right?”

  Victoria loves her in three sentences and hugs her hard. “Thank you for being here. I am so glad to finally meet you. Sometimes these things are a blessing in disguise.”

  “I am sorry about your Dad darling. Callum told us wonderful things about him. Is this Marina? Aren’t you lovely?” Anna says taking a hug.

  “Will you stay with us, please?” Victoria asks.

  “I’m registered at a place in town, but my plane was delayed so I haven’t checked in yet. I don’t want to impose,” she says, fully intending to impose.

  Later that night after a quiet dinner remembering George and getting to know each other, Anna and Victoria sip wine on the deck while Callum tucks Marina into bed.

  “Are you okay sweetheart. I hope today wasn’t too much for you,” Callum asks, smoothing Marina’s hair from her forehead.

  “It was sad but nice. I think,” she says. “I’m going to miss him.”

  “I’ll miss him too. George would have liked the service a lot,” Callum agrees.

  Marina sits up, suddenly very serious. “Callum. I want to tell you something. I don’t want us to have any secrets.” Her face is so young sometimes.

  “Of course,” he says. “Neither do I. You can always tell me anything.” He can’t help but brace himself. Her confessions are never simple. They often tear his heart out.

  “That day we went to Triple Falls and we talked about my sister?”

  He’ll never forget that day. He nods to encourage her on.

  “You told me maybe I should let my mother lie to me. Maybe she had her reasons for keeping secrets and it was for my own good.”

  Oh my god, he thinks. “Go on.”

  “I’m doing what you said. I got my sister and my brother and Grace and my Dad and that’s all that matters. Right? If things were different a long, long time ago, that doesn’t matter now. Right?” she looks at him with the eyes of an angel. She looks to him, and he feels that she is a lamb to slaughter and he is the slaughterer.

  “I love you Marina. I’ll be here for you every day of your life.” He hopes that is enough. “I have a secret too.” He tiptoes to his room and brings back two black boxes. One has a solitaire round diamond ring and the other has three varying sized silver bands inside.

  “This one is for your Mom and these three are for us. I had them specially made. They are family rings. They bind us all together forever. I’m going to propose during the fireworks when we go to Osprey Island for July fourth.”

  Their embrace holds all the promise of a life he never even imagined. Callum knows that the last years of his life have been like the labors of Hercules. Instead of earning Hera’s good will, he was challenged to find his way here. To become a man who could be a father to a little girl and a husband to a woman, like no other woman he has ever known. A woman who bases her life on courage and honesty and finding truth. Most importantly, to become a man worthy of their love. The mobile in his back pocket vibrates a text message.

  “Goodnight love,” he says kissing her forehead.

  “I love you Callum. Good night.” She rolls over, pulls the quilt to her chin and closes her eyes. She looks as peaceful as Callum has ever seen her. He closes the door before reaching for the mobile in his pocket. His mother wants Victoria’s address to mail a sympathy card. Her lack of depth never ceases to amaze Callum

  Eleven

  Marina leans her head out of the window and breathes in ocean air for the first time in her life on the bridge to Osprey Island. They cross the sound onto the barrier island and pull into John and Anna’s driveway ten minutes later.

  Three houses are full of friends and loved ones. John’s brother, Brian, and his wife, Stephanie, are in the smaller house, 517, with their two boys, Mikey and Sammie. Anna’s mother and her husband have rented house 518 for the month of July. They are hosting John’s parents, Conrad and Jane as well as Jordan and his partner Jerome. Rodrigo’s daughter and Anna’s best friend, Pemberley, died from cancer a little over a year before. Jordan was Pemberley’s tireless, loving, nurse. Rodrigo reluctantly opened his heart to this man despite his initial misgiving about Jordan’s checkered past. A collection of Pemberley’s cousins from Connecticut fill in the remaining rooms of the enormous house.

  July 4th marks a year since the memorial service that was held for Pemberley on Osprey Island. Rodrigo decided to honor his daughter every year on this day by gathering family and friends for a celebration. Pemberley would have loved it.

  As is always the case, John and Anna are waiting outside with the girls to greet their guests. After greetings and many introductions, Callum and Victoria take Marina around back to see the ocean.

  “John and I will bring out a beach happy hour. Relax and stretch your legs before you get settled in,” Anna encourages. “Put on your suits if you like.”

  Marina runs straight though the silken sand into the blue surf, screaming with joy. Callum silently counts in his head how many people will be on the boat during the July 4th fireworks. Twenty-six? No, friends too. More like forty. Plus a captain, plus caterers. Suddenly the idea of a very public proposal seems absurd. In his heart, he isn’t sure Victoria will say yes.

  Despite the fact that she finally, albeit inauspiciously, declared her love for him at Marina’s birthday celebration, this proposal isn’t a slam dunk. At his insistence, they still keep separate rooms at the house. Their lives are merged and in perfect sync and they are so happy. Still.

  “What do you think?” Callum calls to Victoria as she wades into the ocean with Marina.

  Victoria hasn’t seen the ocean in many years. “It’s incredible! Beautiful! I love it!”

  I love you, Callum thinks. Be my wife. Share a life with me. Here and now. He could just utter the words and that would be that. They could announce at the fireworks and maybe that would be better.

  Marina and Victoria come splashing out of the ocean to go inside and change into suits.

  “I’ll be right there,” Callum says and plants himself in the dry sand. Within two minutes, John sits at his side and hands Callum a bourbon.

  “My god, I’ve missed you so, dear John,” Callum lays his head in John’s lap.

  “You’d better get out of there unless you mean business, Callum.”

  Callum gives him a kiss on the cheek to let him know he could probably be talked into it. John shares a good laugh.

  “You look good brother. You’re bulking up a little. Feeling good too?” John asks.

  “Very good,” Callum holds his bourbon up to the sun to look through the amber filled glass.

  “Talk,” John says. “You’ve been here five minutes and you look like a very bad cat that ate a pretty tasty canary.”

  “Are we really not related by blood, John? I feel like you are in my soul,” Callum says seriously enough to get another laugh from John.

  “Am I right?”

  “You are,” Callum smiles. “I brought a ring. I intended to propose on the boat on the 4th, but suddenly that is seeming like a recipe for disaster.”

  “No shit!” John says and smacks Callum’s leg. “Are you having second thoughts about proposing or proposing in front of all those people and then being trapped on a tiny vessel over the ocean for hours and hours if it goes bad?”

  “Not second thoughts. That,” Callum says. Victoria, Marina, Anna, Ellen, Rodrigo, and about ten other people, whose names he can’t remember, come down the walkways with coolers, tables and chairs. John and Callum jump up to carry the heavier items into the sand. Within five minutes, everyone has a drink in their hand and platters of food are passed along with stories and endless laughter.

  Callum can’t remember the last time he experienced this kind of setting. It had to be in the restaurants. He hosted monthly staff m
eals to keep the staff knowledgeable about the ever changing menu. Those meals often meant hours of wine and laughter, much like this. But he was always the boss, so some of that laughter was polite. This is family. This is wonderful.

  “Take Victoria to dinner tomorrow night, just the two of you. Drive her into Charleston. Anna and I fell in love there. It is perfect,” John suggests in a whisper.

  Callum agrees and decides to blurt it all out to Marina later. That child needs no more surprises in her life.

  John gives Callum a few restaurant recommendations but in the end, Callum can’t think about food. If they are in a restaurant and getting engaged, he should be the fucking chef. He regrets that he didn’t propose back in Asheville. Maybe he should wait until they get home. The box is burning a hole in his pocket and it feels 600 pounds. He can’t take the waiting anymore. If it isn’t tonight, he’ll self-destruct. He considers Angel Oak. This magnificent old tree is a few miles outside of Charleston, but it is where Anna and John were engaged. Callum wants his own place.

  “Callum, I think you missed the exit.” Victoria says.

  Callum drives, gripping the wheel too tight. Tree no. Restaurant no. Where the fuck does one propose?

  “Callum. What’s going on? Aren’t we going into the city?” she asks.

  Callum follows signs to the Arthur Ravenel Jr. Bridge. This stunning suspension bridge joining Charleston and Mt. Pleasant calls to him. Why not at the top of the beautiful bridge? They can walk the pedestrian lane hand in hand. A breeze blowing her hair, overlooking the harbor.

  “There is a walking lane. Can we?” he asks and points to her sandals.

  “Sure. If you want. It is beautiful.”

  “Let’s just go to the middle and come back.”

  The bridge is 2.7 miles across so they take a long time to get to the center. The afternoon sunshine is hot and the wind picks up. Victoria walks with one hand holding her skirt in place and the other holding her hair in a ponytail to stop it whipping her face. Cars honk unnecessarily and often. The walk isn’t as romantic as Callum had hoped, but he is committed to it. When they reach the middle, Callum surveys the harbor and the city. Not quite what he imagined, a bit industrial, but this is the place. Without further thought, he drops to one knee.

  “Callum? What are you doing?” Victoria asks with a perfectly unconcealed look of horror.

  He ignores her harsh tone. She’ll get over the shock of it fast enough. He has to keep going.

  “Victoria. I love you. These last months with you have been the best months of my life and I want to spend the rest of my life with you and Marina. I want to make babies with you and grow old with you and live my life on your mountain. Will you have me? Will you marry me?” He opens the box and decides if she says no and he can get to the side of the bridge in two steps and throw himself over.

  “You want to marry me?” she asks, like she isn’t really understanding what he is saying.

  “That is the general idea. Yes. I’d like to marry you.”

  “Callum… I…I…” Car after car passing lays on their horn celebrating a perceived engagement. She tries to talk, but she can’t speak above it. She drops to her knees, facing him and closes the box.

  “No?” he asks in a panic. “Is that a no?”

  She tries to hold his face in her hands, but he avoids her touch. “Callum. Stop. Listen to me. I love you with all my heart.”

  “Then why am I holding a fucking closed box?”

  “Because I’m not sure. Is this what you really want? I love you, but I can’t help feeling like we are still a little temporary.”

  “No Victoria. With you I have everything I could ever want. I love Asheville. I have my school opening in September. I love Marina. I love every moment of our life together.” He tries to sound serious and keep the slight whine out of his voice.

  “Callum, I feel like you are holding back sometimes. I feel like we have eighty or ninety percent of Callum, but that last ten or twenty percent isn’t there. I’m scared to death that when it comes back, it will claim you and take you away from me.”

  He brings her lips to his and kisses her lightly. “This is all I am. Please believe me. Marry me.”

  She speaks slowly, almost to herself. “I love you, Callum. You are everything to me. You are giving and caring and kind. You have taken my daughter and my father into your own heart.”

  “I’m staying Victoria. You are all I am,” he says, hoping she is hearing him. “Don’t let your fear cloud your thinking. Let me spend my life trying to make you happy.”

  She stares silently into his eyes while the traffic screams around them. He can see her weighing her love against her fear, questioning her own worth and fighting her self-doubt. Then she smiles and he knows she’ll be his forever.

  “Yes Callum,” she says finally. “I’ll marry you.”

  He hands her the box and she opens it this time. He takes the ring and slips it onto her finger. He kisses her with all of the hope and promise of a life together, a life he never thought he would want. But that life is somehow the answer to his dreams.

  “Callum, can we get the hell off this bridge?” she asks as another car blows its horn at them.

  He carries her in his arms the 1.35 miles back to the car. With her arms wrapped around his neck, he suddenly realizes he should toss her over the side.

  “What the fuck was that closing the box? I nearly jumped the bridge,” he says.

  She doesn’t bother answering him, but she does give him a nice series of licks and kisses along his neck. Forgiven.

  Twelve

  The drive back to Asheville is long and traffic is thick with holiday travelers. By the time they pull up to the house, they are cranky, hungry, exhausted and all racing for a pee. Marina and Victoria run inside to the bathroom, but Callum insists on unloading the car first. By the time he has lined up the bags by the front steps, Victoria is back outside and pulling at a note from the front door.

  Callum lifts the top of the recycling bin and tosses in a collection of water bottles littering the car “What’s that?”

  Victoria hands over the white envelope. Callum is the single word written in all large black capital letters across the front.

  “What is this?” he asks, taking it from her hand. It feels heavier than it should. It feels like anger or bad news or change. Nothing good is coming from black Sharpied lettering like this. It feels nothing like a simple white envelope with a piece of paper inside.

  “What the hell?” he wonders out loud. No one leaves notes. Anyone in his life would text or email or use the damn phone.

  “Open it,” Victoria demands. “The suspense is killing me.”

  He opens an envelope with the same fastidiousness that he folds clothes and trusses a roast. He separates the back flap from the envelope without shredding the paper at all. The stationary is from a hotel downtown. He reads it out loud.

  Callum, I am in Asheville. I must see you. I think you are out of town and I have no phone number for you. Your mother gave me an address but would not share your phone number. She is such a bitch. I traveled across a fucking ocean because you changed your cell number and you don’t look at email. Anyway. I‘m here and I need to talk to you now. – Elizabeth

  She includes a phone number. He crumbles the paper into a ball and tosses it into the recycling bin.

  “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “She’s here, in fucking Asheville.” His accent suddenly becomes far more pronounced just talking about his people from England.

  Victoria suddenly doesn’t understand English. “What does that mean?”

  “She wanted to talk with me and my manipulative mother refused her any information about how to find me but an address. My mother has sent her here to coerce me back to England. They probably need a fucking chef at Mise En Place. Well, she can fuck herself up and down and sideways.”

  “Oh shit. She’s really here? Oh shit. I knew it. I knew it. Your chickens are coming home to roost.” If Victor
ia was less freaked out, there would be a taste of victory in knowing he should have gone back to England to face his life. There is no feeling of victory though.

  “Callum, will you go back?” She asks, sounding confused and helpless, a little dazed.

  “Of course I’m not fucking going back. What are you talking about? Are we not getting fucking married?” Comforting Victoria while he is tired and cranky with a full bladder and furious at his mother is essentially impossible.

  “What does she look like? Is she gorgeous? I am disgusting. I smell like pee from the damn rest stop. Will you meet her somewhere? Will you have her come here? I look like shit. What if she comes back and …” Victoria is interrupted by a car coming up the driveway.

  “Three guesses,” she says and her heart sinks.

  “I only need one,” he says. “Motherfucker.”

  “That is a weird word,” she says absentmindedly. “I’ll go inside and leave you alone. Should I put on some tea? Don’t you British have a cuppa with everything?”

  He doesn’t answer and Victoria stays at his side. Curiosity is stronger than vanity in this instance. “I really wish I took a shower this morning,” she mumbles.

  Elizabeth parks the car and steps out. She is elegant in white pants that sway in the breeze and a lightly colored denim shirt that could use one more button buttoned at the top. Her hair is pulled into a glamorous, not so careless, pile on top of her head. Black horn-rimmed glasses give her the sexy librarian look and generous cleavage seals the deal. While Victoria and Callum watch in silence, she reaches into the back seat and pulls forth a baby boy.

  “What a bitch,” Callum whispers. “I can’t believe she brought her marriage saving baby to stick in my fucking face.”

  As Elizabeth walks closer, it is obvious to Victoria, but Callum is too angry to see it. “I don’t think that is her marriage saving baby,” Victoria says. “I think that is your son Callum.”

  “You are out of your mind,” he whispers then stares into the little face. The little blue eyes are Callum’s. The bits of blonde hair are Callum’s. The button nose and slight cleft on the chin are all Callum.