Riftkeepers: Prime

by Carrie Whitethorne

  How is such a small place so busy? It's a village.

  “Nearly there. Now you have your reading books in your bags, PE bags are already in the boot so please grab those too. I'll walk you in but can't stay because I'm working today, okay Zander?”

  “Yeah.” His usual response.

  The car stopped and Charlotte leaned round to look at the children.

  “It's dance club after school for you, Enya, and you have homework club, Zander. I'll be here at five for you both. Do not leave that building without me, do you understand?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay. Have a great day my babies,” she said, escorting them into the school yard, a teacher acknowledging Zander's arrival.

  Now very late, she had to run for work. Luckily, she had a very understanding supervisor but still, it wasn't fair on the rest of her team. Single parent or not, she had the same responsibility as everyone else.

  She rubbed a hand over her face. Today was going to be a long one.

  Half an hour into the shift, Liz called her into the office.

  “The school called. They need you to call them back immediately. Its Enya.”

  Shit. What this time?

  Gesturing to the phone, Charlotte took a deep breath. Liz nodded and she dialled the number.

  Within an hour, they were sat in the minor injuries unit, Enya holding a cool pack to her head and cradled on her lap. Charlotte picked at her nails, staring at the clock. Too many hours had been spent here with Zander, the memories made her edgy.

  “How does a sink just smash like that, Enya?” She tried to keep the exasperation from her tone but she had clearly failed.

  “I don't know mummy. I was just washing my hands and it burst. There was water everywhere, a bit of the sink hit my head and it was horrible!” Her voice was small.

  Poor girl had been terrified. She wasn't badly hurt but the piece of shattered porcelain had hit her with some force.

  Charlotte hugged her tight and smiled.

  Always Enya, how is she so accident prone?

  “It's okay baby. Accidents happen.”

  Where Enya's concerned, a lot of accidents.

  Discharged with pain relief and instructions to watch for concussion they headed home. Two days off work wasn't ideal but they'd manage.

  “Cake treat?” Charlotte asked as she fastened Enya's seat belt.

  “Yes please, I'm really hungry.”

  Enya cuddled into her seat as Charlotte drove the short distance. She was gaining some colour in her cheeks now. Hopefully a sugary treat would pick her up.

  They parked and walked along the harbour to the small café.

  This was their favourite place for a treat. A small, modern coffee shop, simple but delicious cakes, it was perfect. Not too busy. Zander couldn't handle a crowd, he simply couldn't process the noises, sights, and smells all mingled together. It had become habit to seek out the quieter, more intimate cafes, and restaurants.

  It wasn't busy and their order was handled quickly.

  “Thank you, mummy,” Enya beamed and dug into her lunch as Charlotte poured her tea.

  Staring out of the window, she noticed someone walk past. The door chimed as it opened.

  There wasn't much activity on the piers reaching round to cradle the yacht's and ships moored in the marina. A few men fishing. People walking their dogs, others pushing babies and toddlers in their prams and push chairs. Gulls strutting up and down the walk way, scavenging any dropped morsels they could.

  Someone ordered at the counter.

  She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. A tingle ran down her spine.

  No. Not possible.

  “Charlotte?”

  Making sure to smile before she turned, she faced him. “Callan! Wow, how are you?”

  Oh. My. God.

  “I'm well, thank you. How have you been? May I?”

  Oh…

  “Yeah, please join us. Callan, this is Enya, my daughter. Enya, this is an old friend of mine, Callan.”

  Enya eyed him but didn't speak. Callan smiled at her warmly.

  “A pleasure to meet you, Enya. How old are you?”

  Crap.

  Enya swallowed a mouthful of cake and sipped her juice. “I'm six. I'll be seven at Christmas! So is Zander. He's my twin brother and he's at school.”

  “Six? You're all grown up.”

  Enya grinned and went back to her cake.

  Change the subject.

  “What brings you to our little town, Callan? Work?”

  “Yes, I've been called in to monitor a situation with the water pressure…” He trailed off.

  “Oh. Enya's just left the minor injuries unit after a sink exploded while she was washing her hands at school. She's taken a nasty hit to the head. Thankfully she isn't too badly hurt, are you sweetheart? It answers a few questions if it's down to water pressure.”

  “I'll add that to my notes,” he muttered, frowning with concern as he studied Enya.

  They sat quietly for a few moments. Callan, seemingly, deep in thought, Enya deep in cake, Charlotte wondering how to cut this short.

  “I need the toilet,” Enya announced, breaking the silence.

  “Do you need help baby?” Charlotte asked, glad to break the silence.

  “No, I'm a big girl now mummy.” She huffed as she skipped away.

  Say something, don't let him ask questions.

  “Charlotte, would you like to go for a drink tonight and catch up?”

  Oh no. He's going to ask questions.

  “That's… difficult,” she said slowly.

  “Sorry, would your husband mind?”

  “I'm not married. I don't have a partner,” she said, curtly. “It's just me and the kids, always has been. I also don't have much help so I struggle with social engagements I'm afraid.” She didn't mean to be so curt, it was just the cold reality of it.

  “Oh, I, um. Okay,” he said awkwardly.

  It isn't his fault. Why are you being such a bitch?

  She softened and asked, “Why don't you pop round this evening for a coffee and we'll catch up?”

  His head snapped up and he smiled.

  He's keen.

  Pulling a slip of paper and a pen from her bag, she scribbled a note, saying, “The children go to bed at eight. I'd rather they didn't see you. They don't need to know. Here is my address. That is my number. Please don't hammer on the door, Zander's light sleeper and doesn't like his routine to be disrupted.”

  “Thank you.” Their fingers touched as they exchanged the slip of paper Charlotte had scribbled on. He didn't move his hand away.

  Enya's skipping steps drew her attention, a beaming smile on her pretty face.

  “Did you wash your hands?” she asked, snatching her hand away.

  “Yep! Are we going now mummy?”

  “Yes, time to go. It's been lovely seeing you Callan.” She swung her bag on her shoulder and grasped Enya's hand.

  “It's been a pleasure to meet you, Enya. Charlotte.” Before she could react, he took her hand and kissed it. Heat rose in her. Her chest and cheeks flushed, her pulse quickened.

  “Goodbye Callan,” she murmured, turning away, her hand sliding from his.

  Enya smiled up at her as Charlotte tugged her out of the shop.

  Music drifted from upstairs. Enya was in her room, feeling much better for the visit to the cafe.

  “Callan? As in Beltane Callan?” Ferne gasped, sat on the sofa with her feet tucked beneath her. Hair in a messy bun, mug cradled in her hands she shook her head, “And you've invited him here, tonight?”

  “What was I supposed to do? He's worked it out, Enya told him when their birthdays are,” Charlotte hissed.

  “You never know, it could work out pretty well. How long has it been now?” Her eyes shone with mirth as she sniggered into her mug.

  “Long enough and it isn't like that. We haven't seen each other since that, that weekend. He knows I had twins within eight months of, well t
hat, and I can only assume he's worked it out. I couldn't exactly lie to his face and walk away. It wasn't his fault I didn't give him my number.”

  “He could have given you his.” Ferne raised her brows in a matter of fact sort of way.

  Charlotte shrugged.

  It is what it is.

  It was one weekend. She expected to walk away and that be the end of it. She didn't find out about the pregnancy until four months in. There was no time to plan. No time to find him. If he was anywhere to be found.

  Once they'd arrived there wasn't time for anything other than them. Motherhood became her driving force. They were all she had.

  “I don't want anything from him. He just deserves answers to the questions he obviously has,” she said with a sigh.

  “What if he wants to get to know them? What about Zander?” Ferne pressed.

  “I'll handle it. I've handled everything else.”

  “Well. Since its happening, you need to decide what to wear,” she smirked with a flash of her eyebrows.

  Charlotte rolled her eyes. Typical Ferne. Did it really matter what she looked like? It wasn't a date. She expected more of a Q and A session.

  “I hadn't thought about it,” she admitted.

  “Of course, you hadn't. Its four now. You go and have a shower, I'll get Zander from school. When we get back I'll help you sort your hair out. Yes, you do have to, go!”

  “Thanks Fe,” she smiled as Ferne waved her out of the lounge.

  Chapter 3

  Her phone beeped.

  I'm outside. I didn't want to knock in case it disturbed.

  Charlotte smiled. On the way to the front door she stopped and scanned her reflection in the full-length mirror in the hall. Hair down, teal tunic, black leggings, flat ballet shoes.

  I'd rather be in a dressing gown and slippers. Here we go…

  She opened the door to find Callan standing with a bottle of wine in one hand and flowers in the other. Groaning inwardly, she said, “Hi, thanks for coming,” and stepped aside to let him in.

  He smiled and entered, instantly looking up at the photographs on the walls. The frame with their birth dates, times and weights recorded beneath their first photos, Zander in blue, Enya in pink, wrinkled and sleeping, held his attention. He turned as the door clicked closed.

  “Thank you for the invitation, these are for you,” he said quietly, handing the wine and flowers over.

  “Thank you. You really shouldn't have, I'll put these in water and get some glasses. The lounge is through there. I'll be two minutes.”

  She made her way into the kitchen, retrieved two glasses from the cupboard, opened the wine and stuck the flowers in a vase of water on the windowsill. She could arrange them later.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned to see Callan standing at the kitchen door. She tucked her hair behind her ear and smiled.

  “Would you rather sit here, at the table, or in the lounge?”

  He poured the wine, handing her a glass. “The lounge is fine. You have a lovely home Charlotte.”

  She gestured to the lounge, following him through. She sat, feet tucked beneath her, on the sofa by the window. Callan took the sofa opposite. She watched him, he looked uncomfortable.

  They sat in silence for a few moments. “I'm sorry I didn't stay in touch.”

  “Neither of us suggested an exchange of numbers, Callan. We didn't expect to cross paths again. We had… fun that weekend and that was that. I wasn't expecting to have the children under those circumstances.”

  “So, they're, I'm, I mean they're…?” he stumbled over the words, trying to pick the right ones.

  “They were conceived that weekend, yes. And you were the only person I'd spent time with,” she said, her tone clipped.

  It isn't his fault, just answer the questions. Don't snap.

  “I wasn't suggesting. Shit Charlotte, this isn't going as I had expected. I'm sorry.” He put his glass down and ran a hand through his golden hair. She couldn't see his face; his head was bowed.

  She remembered having her own hands tangled in that long, soft hair.

  Glass between both hands, she swung her legs round and put her feet on the floor, leaning forward in her seat.

  “Callan, look. It happens. It wasn't anyone's fault. We're all fine. They're healthy and happy,” she explained. “I'm busy but it's par for the course, isn't it? I'm relieved to have met you again, I'm relieved that you know about them now. I hated you being unaware.” She paused, awkwardly, “I don't want anything from you, I have absolutely no expectations. But you knowing, well it's a good thing.”

  Her eyes glazed with tears. The responsibility she'd shouldered these years had been crushing and now it'd lifted slightly. In that moment, she wasn't alone.

  Callan left his seat and knelt on the floor at her feet. His head was still bowed. He took a steadying breath and he lifted his head. His eyes met hers and she smiled, “It's okay, Callan. Honestly, please don't do this to yourself.”

  “You've done this all on your own. You should never have had to. I shouldn't have just walked away like that.”

  “We both walked away. It was one weekend, Callan, please get up.”

  He sat beside her, hands clasped on his knees. “So, what now?”

  Breathe. Answer the questions. Go from there.

  “Well I'm going to drink my wine and answer any other questions you have. Then, I'll probably have to say goodnight and go to bed because Zander has school tomorrow. Enya's staying at home after her incident today. So, what would you like to know?”

  She brought out photo albums, memory boxes, shared stories of her life raising twins on her own. Their firsts, their triumphs, and their downfalls.

  Zander was difficult to describe. Diagnosed with autism at three years old, it hadn't been a smooth journey. Sensory processing was a huge hurdle for him, sights, sounds, smells all merged to confuse and disorientate him. He struggled with social situations. He preferred quiet environments, open spaces. Freedom. Solid bonds were formed with select, close family members and friends. They were few but the special people in his life were loved fiercely. His empathy was his greatest strength and weakness at once. Finely attuned to how people were feeling, he was greatly affected by others emotions from a very young age. He rarely spoke. Yes and No answers mostly.

  His special bond with Enya was his strongest. They still shared a bedroom. He couldn't bear to be apart from her for any length of time. She was his rock. His anchor. When it was all too much she kept him safe, helped calm and console him. She always knew just what he needed.

  Enya was a force to be reckoned with. That beautiful face, shining copper hair in natural ringlets and emerald eyes were a façade. The feminine polar to Zander. She fiercely guarded her brother. She was his shield, helping guide him through the turbulence of their young lives. Loving, kind, thoughtful and often wise beyond her six years. They were great kids, despite the struggles, they'd faced.

  Callan drank in the information she shared, studied each photograph, etching each image in his mind. He laughed at the funny stories of them learning to walk, trying new foods, the funny things Enya had been known to say. He was silent when Zander's numerous illnesses, hospital stays and challenges were brought up. A shadow passed over his face then, Charlotte noticed.

  “It's been an interesting seven years if nothing else,” Charlotte said, putting down her glass.

  A smile tugged the corner of his mouth as he turned to face her. She didn't realise her eyes had glossed over again. Callan cupped her cheek in his palm.

  Don't cry. You've come this far, don't cry.

  A tear escaped, and he brushed it away with his thumb. She couldn't speak. Fighting to stop any more from falling she sat back, wiping her eyes, and taking a deep breath.

  “What happens now?” she asked quietly.

  “Whatever you're comfortable with. I understand Zander needs a gradual introduction to new people. Enya has already met me so that initial introduction has been done
. But, I would like the chance to get to know them. They don't need to know who I am. I'd just like to get to know them.” His eyes searched hers as he waited for a response.

  I owe him that much.

  “What about your work? You live in Scotland, don't you? Can you spare the occasional Sunday? Zander likes being outdoors. Walks, beaches, forests, that sort of thing. Enya is happy to chatter wherever she is. The only time she's quiet is eating cake or listening to music.”

  Callan's face lit up, “I'm in the area for the next couple of months while I investigate this… water issue. Sundays I can do.”

  “We'll take it from there then. If the weather is nice we can go to the beach,” she said with a weak smile.

  “You don't have to be alone now, Charlotte. I can help. Given time. If you'll let me.”

  He means it, he really wants to get to know them.

  “I'm fine, honestly. I'm used to it. I've been on my own since my mum died. I've gotten along quite well considering, I think,” she said with a gentle laugh. “I have Ferne, she's always popping in and out, she's like their aunt, the kids love her to bits. You don't need to worry about me.” Stifling a yawn, she turned away.

  “I should go. It' late and you have a busy morning. Thank you, for letting me,” he paused, “for sharing them with me.”

  “It's a pleasure. Like I said, I've always felt terrible that you didn't know about them but I didn't know how to find you. Thank you, for not running away once you worked it all out.”

  She picked up their bottle and glasses taking them to the kitchen. Callan had gone to the bathroom while she cleared away. The scent of the bouquet of flowers drew her attention. She admired them as she drifted into her own thoughts, vibrant pinks and oranges, happy colours that reminded her of summer. Callan entered the kitchen behind her, his shifting reflection in the window pulling her from her thoughts. She turned, leaning on the worktop, to face him.

  He closed the distance between them his eyes burning into hers.

  It's the eyes. The eyes get me.