by Ella M. Kaye
Emma stared at the woman. “You can’t do that. Do you know how disruptive that would be for her? You should know...”
“Then I suggest you pick her up on time. I have a schedule, as well, and I have to be able to leave on time. Good day, Mrs. Turner.”
“Ms, not Mrs. I’m divorced and doing this on my own...”
“Not my problem.”
Emma grabbed a deep breath and ran a hand over Patty’s head to soothe her as she showed signs of frustration. She couldn’t handle negativity, arguments, even lightweight arguments such as that. “Okay, sweetie, it’s fine. Ready to go home? You get to stay with me tonight and tomorrow night. Remember?”
A quick look up to meet Emma’s gaze said she understood, or at least that’s what she thought it meant. She wanted to grab her niece in a hug, but the only contact that didn’t send Patty into fits was a touch to her head. Not her face. Only her head, over her hair, which needed to be trimmed but Emma wasn’t sure she could face that this weekend. Not just anyone could touch her head, only those Patty was comfortable with.
Emma had tried to do Patty’s hair herself to make it easier, but she was bad at it and Patty was so tense while she did it. And yet taking her in to the beauty shop was a nightmare. Maybe if she could arrange to take her when almost no one else was there, when there wouldn’t be a blow dryer in use, if she warned them not to get closer than necessary...
With another deep breath, Emma figured it would wait another week.
Maybe they could go out and get ice cream, though. She could manage to get a little bit of almost excitement from her niece and usually pretty good behavior with the promise of ice cream.
Chapter 6
Already? Emma looked over at the red numbers on her alarm clock. “It’s only five-thirty, Patty. Go back to sleep.”
The girl started to fidget where she sat on the other side of Emma’s double bed.
“Okay. You win.” As always. At least she’d only been up four times during the night instead of five or six as was more usual on Friday nights when she had to adjust to staying at Emma’s instead of with her grandparents. It wasn’t good for her. Emma knew she should move her in permanently. That time would come soon enough. It was in Helen’s will that Patty went to her when the time came. Even so, she shouldn’t wait. Her parents were too tired by now. They’d had their child-rearing years and it wasn’t fair to them to have another, especially one who took such constant care. Her mother kept telling her to find another man first, one who would take turns getting up with Patty, and she would keep the girl until then so it wasn’t so overwhelming.
Where her mom thought she would find this Prince Charming was beyond her. She could imagine that conversation: Hey, I want you to marry me and move in with us and help raise my autistic niece and be even just decent to me despite all the changes you’ll have to make in your life and despite the fact we’ll never have a free weekend and in return ... uh ... I uh... Emma rolled her eyes. Right. That would happen.
She started to ask what Patty wanted for breakfast as she rubbed her eyes and dumped last night’s coffee out to make fresh, but it was a pointless question. Scrambled eggs with just a touch of white American cheese – she wouldn’t touch yellow cheese – and a banana, peeled just a touch to make it easier for her to do the rest herself, but not too far or she wouldn’t touch it. And a third a glass of orange juice with absolutely no pulp and only after she was done eating. It was the same every weekend morning. Which would turn into every morning. Soon enough.
The doctors were giving Helen five or six months, as though they knew. It was all a guessing game. Emma stopped to see her every week day, early. During the school year it had been before class which was all she could do since she had to pick up Patty after school. Now she allowed herself to sleep in on weekday mornings and go around ten, before the summer class session.
She hated doing summer class. The kids hated to have to be there, although in almost every case it was their own laziness that put them there, and they were disrespectful and disinterested. The ones who were there not through their own fault, she paid the most attention to – the ones who didn’t function well under the strict schedule and guidelines, the lecture teaching method. If she had only those kids during the summer, she’d gladly take it on. They only needed someone who understood. And Emma fully understood. Helen had been the same. Emma got her through her classes all the way up to graduation by teaching her after school the way Helen was able to learn.
For what, exactly? After all of that and her sister had given up on herself. The drugs were killing her, as Emma kept warning her they would. Still, she went to see her sister. What else could she do? No one else would.
Slamming the laptop lid shut, Fillan paced the cabin. He could take time to research how to fix it himself, he supposed. Use the library computer and look it up and just fix it. But he had no patience for that.
He’d have to go into town and find someone to look at it for him. See if they would charge only an arm rather than an arm and two legs.
It was early but he was an early riser, driven into him from his boyhood days. Sun up to sun down. It was good enough for nature; it was good enough for him, his father had always said. Fillan didn’t know how his father survived on no more sleep than that, considering the very long Ireland days in the summer. He had functioned well, though. A strong man, his father. Nothing like himself. Function first. Take care of the mundane before you stop to think of anything else.
Mundane had never worked well for Fillan. The unusual and unexpected were far more entertaining. His mundane needs were basic. He shrugged many of them off to get to the more entertaining things in life: sitting in a field watching the birds – other than seagulls and pigeons, he liked birds; sitting at a pub’s outdoor table watching women with his mates; standing on the shore or up on hill watching boats, sailboats in particular, scoot in and out and back and forth, bobbing with the tides and wakes; and dance of course. His salvation, dance was. His mum was a near genius to have harnessed his energy by putting him into dance classes. She had fought terrible hard with his father for it.
Stop the past-dabbling, Fillan, and eat whatever you can find and get to town already. The laptop will not get fixed through your daydreaming. And you cannot talk with your sister and hear her lecture until you have it fixed.
The problem was: he had nothing in the cabin he wanted to eat. Only the oatmeal he’d had the past two mornings and couldn’t bear to have again. Sorry, mum. I do try. He looked at the ceiling as he said it. A fool thing to do since his mum was across the ocean likely thinking he was for sure a fool to take off to America by himself just because he decided one day to do it. It wouldn’t be close to the first time she’d thought it of him. A dear woman to have put up with so much and still worry each day until he was “rightly settled” with a good, strong woman who could deal with his “malarkey” without braining him good. Not a big chance of that, Fillan supposed.
He had to get food while he was out, as well. He rolled his eyes at himself. Mundane. He hated shopping for food. He missed his big garden behind his little house that would stay mostly barren this summer. He’d composted it well, left it covered in thick straw finagled from a local dairy farmer. It should be good and ready for fall crops when he returned.
If not for the slight possibility of hanging out with Emma part of the summer, when she ever had time, he would be ready enough by now for that return. Except his plane ticket was for the very end of August and he didn’t want to have to pay to change it.
“This way, Patty. Come this way.”
The girl stubbornly planted her feet and stared at Emma.
“Sweetie, I have to get a few groceries. I’m sorry but I’m out of bananas. If you want one tomorrow, we have to stop and get them. It won’t take long.” Emma sighed and resolved herself for a fight. Patty hated the grocery store. She hated most stores but especially the grocery store. “I’m going this way. Staying here or coming with me?” Emma edged away, watch
ing for a reaction. To her relief, Patty took a step toward her. She backed away just a bit more and actually won the battle when her niece resigned herself to follow.
“That a girl. Thank you. I appreciate your cooperation.”
The quick glance said she was very much not welcome.
Emma stayed close to her as they went in. She felt Patty’s tension but so far the girl stayed with her, head tilted slightly down to avoid eye contact with strangers, but calm otherwise.
“If this is why y’ had no time this weekend, we could have done it together.”
Fillan’s voice made her jump, first from it being so close to her shoulder, then because ... well because he was there. And so was Patty. Her niece tugged hard on her hand.
“It’s alright, sweetie. He’s ... my dance teacher.”
Patty flicked her glance at him then pulled again.
“Stop. Just give me a minute.” Struggling not to be pulled too hard, Emma looked back at him. He was looking curiously at the girl. “My niece. Patty. She’s ... not crazy about strangers.”
“Niece?”
“My sister’s daughter. And I promised her we wouldn’t be in here long so ... I’m sorry again, but...”
“Isn’t she too old to be fearful of strangers? I thought they did that when they were wee li’l ones.”
“Well, not every kid does it at the same time, or at all. Okay Patty, hold on just a minute. You’re hurting my wrist.” Risking a glance back, Emma saw that look on his face, the one that said she shouldn’t allow such behavior from an eleven-year-old. Generally, she would agree, but some things couldn’t be generalized.
“So when are you taking her back home? Will you have time then?”
“Monday morning.”
He nodded. “Then, next weekend?” Again, he looked at the girl curiously.
“You know what? I really ... I just can’t. And I’m not sure I can stay in class, either. Bye, Fillan. Have a good rest of the summer here and safe travels home.” She walked away, toward whatever direction Patty wanted to go for whatever reason.
“Wait.” He caught up and walked beside them. “Emma, don’t quit because... I will back off.”
“Not because of you. But thanks. I have to go.”
“You are here to shop, am I right? We can’t do that together?”
She looked at Patty who looked at the floor as she tugged, more gently now since they were moving. Maybe they could. “If you want to go the same direction we are.”
He gave her that grin. Something deep inside wanted to pull her hand from Patty’s, tell Fillan to just stop, run out of the store, and keep running ... anywhere. As always, she swallowed the thought and tried to keep up conversation as they shopped and as Patty kept trying to tug her away from him and reached for things she couldn’t have. Too many additives. Artificial colorings. Preservatives. Emma was sure they made Patty worse, although the doctors said there was “no evidence...” blah blah blah. Her own observation mattered more than whatever evidence there was or wasn’t in black and white.
Emma wasn’t sure if she was relieved or sad when they were done and left the little store. Even distracted from conversation with Fillan, it made the trip more enjoyable. And of course she left with far more than she’d gone in for, and, by now, she wasn’t even sure what that was.
“We start the samba Monday.” Fillan leaned close on the way to her car, talking quietly. “Tell me you’ll be there.”
Samba. A Latin dance. She didn’t want to do the Latin dances. Well, she did, but she didn’t. She sure didn’t want to do it with the man she’d been paired with, a young guy who sniffed a lot from allergies which she tried to overlook as she sympathized.
“Emma?”
“This is my car. It was nice seeing you.”
“I know. I’ve seen it. Monday? The samba?”
“I ... I don’t know.” Getting tugged again, harder, now that Patty saw the car and wanted in, away from this stranger, Emma supposed, she admitted her thoughts about the sniffling young guy and how she didn’t think she had the personality for the samba.
Fillan laughed. A beautiful deep laugh. “Well and maybe we can fix that for you. Tell you what.” He nudged closer. “If I promise to fix that for you, will you come?”
A sudden jerk on her hand made her utter a loud “ouch” and Patty stepped between, pushing her away from Fillan, distraught. Emma had to focus on her niece, despite whatever he was thinking, which she figured she knew. “Patty, that’s not okay. You hurt me.” She rubbed her wrist to help make her point. “Stop now. Get in the car. Come on.” Setting her hand on the girl’s shoulder worked to move her farther away from Fillan and toward the back seat – she wouldn’t sit in the front, ever – but she did get in without more hassle.
Grabbing a deep breath as she closed the door, she met Fillan’s gaze. Yep. That one. The one that said the kid was a spoiled brat and should be disciplined better. Usually, she ignored it and went on with her business. For some reason, she couldn’t with him. “I’m sorry for that.”
“What’s wrong with her? Do her parents allow her to act that way?”
Emma’s back straightened. “There is nothing wrong with her. She’s fine. It’s not her fault people don’t understand and don’t want to understand and she tries far harder to get along with them and to understand them and to live in their world than they do for her. She doesn’t have parents. She has a mother. Barely. And she won’t have her much longer because she was never very strong and this was too much for her and her liver is failing. She’ll be gone any time now. Okay, so don’t look at me like that. I told you...”
“Emma.” He stepped in and set his hands on her shoulders. “Alright, I am sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. But there is something... How do I ask without insulting you again?”
“She’s autistic. Low functioning. High intelligence, but it’s hard to tell because she’s almost fully non-verbal. She can talk but she chooses not to lately. She’s mine, Fillan. I’ll have her full time soon, as my daughter. I told you, I’m very busy. I don’t have time for ... for dance lessons or walks on the beach or weekends jaunting around acting like a tour guide. I don’t. I work and I take care of Patty and I visit my sister while I still can. That’s it. I can’t manage more than that. I won’t be there Monday.”
He was quiet a moment and then he brushed his lips against hers. Nudged closer...
She felt herself give in to him. Not to him maybe, just to ... the affection. Something normal. She felt herself return the kiss, felt his hands slide down her arms. And she leaned into him, made the kiss deeper, felt her heart race...
He pulled back and she felt ashamed of herself. Patty was right there. In the car. She’d get upset...
“How can I help you?”
At his words, the ones she’d wanted to hear for so long, from her husband when she still had one, from friends who drifted away when she no longer had time for them, from ... nearly anyone, she felt herself choke up and felt her head shake. “I can’t...” She couldn’t accept his help. She couldn’t get used to having it. She wouldn’t. He was leaving. By the end of the summer. And he’d get sick of it long before then, as everyone did. As her husband had. She couldn’t.
His hand slid around her head, his eyes peering into hers. “Come Monday. Bring Patty with you. Maybe she would enjoy class?”
“No. She can’t stand noise. Or crowds. Strangers. Different places. Changes to her routine. She’ll be up twenty times tonight as it is because we stopped at the store and she got upset. I can’t take her to class.”
“Alright. Then how about bringing her out to my cabin after class? We’ll have a cookout on the beach. It’s quiet. No crowds. I don’t have to stay a stranger to her...”
Emma jumped out of her skin at a loud long horn blast. Patty. “Sorry. I have to go.” She moved away, to her door.
Fillan stopped her before she opened it.
“I have to... She’s upset...”
“So are y
ou. Are y’ alright to drive, Emma?”
“Yes. But I...” Another blast and she opened the back door. “Stop that now. Sit down. Here, let me buckle you again.” She fought Patty’s hands away to get the seatbelt back on. “Okay, we’re going. Okay. You win, Patty. Sit nicely and we’ll go.” Closing the door, she threw an apologetic glance at Fillan and saw several stares of disapproval as she opened her own door.
He moved in to hold it, and gave her another kiss. A light kiss. “My number is on the dance class information. Call me when you can, when it won’t upset her. Tell me you will, Emma. Looks like you could use a shoulder now and again.”
“You won’t be around long.”
“No, but a couple o’ months. Would that not be helpful to y’ at all?”
“No.” It came out a whisper. “Maybe. I have to go.”
Fillan watched her back out and pull away. What have you gotten yourself into now, y’ eejit? I told you she was not the right girl for a summer fling. Or any fling. And you go and push yourself right in the middle only because ... because you felt sorry for her.
No, it wasn’t that. He felt for her. Sorry, maybe, but a fair bit more than that, as well. And yet, as she said, he wouldn’t be around long. Still, they could talk if she needed to talk. He would get his buggered laptop fixed and they could Skype when he returned home. Or chat somewhere else, wherever she liked. He could still be around. A friend. Someone she could talk to.
And yet that kiss... Aye, that kiss. It was nice. One of the nicest he had ever had. Soft and willing and wanting. A beautiful kiss. That, they could not do across the ocean. Still, he could return next summer.
Ah, Fillan, what a mess you have put yourself in. So much for escaping all the romance mushy stuff you got so tired of from ... from the other one. The one who ... did not really even matter to him anymore.
He did accomplish that much, anyway.
As he tried to remember where he’d left his car, he nearly jumped at his phone’s ring. A right annoying ringtone. He would have to change it and soon. “Yes?”