by Amy Daws
“At first, I thought it would be hard to have a baby. My football schedule was hectic and we had only just met. I knew I wasn’t ready to be a father, but she was never afraid. She accepted the surprise like it was her destiny that she knew was coming all along. Her confidence made me feel brave.
“With every baby she gave me, I grew more and more in love with her. She took everything so wonderfully in stride, too. It was miraculous. Even the twins didn’t shake her. By the time Booker was born, I had only fallen more in love with her. But, by that point, love seemed like a word that wasn’t enough to describe what we shared together. What we had between us was ten times bigger than a feeling. More massive than a sentiment. We had a family.”
The entire table waits on bated breath for what Vaughn will say next. One glance at Gareth and Vi tells me this isn’t a story they’ve heard countless times over the breakfast table. They both look stunned into silence.
I have to admit I’m feeling stunned as well. After everything Gareth told me about his father, this is nothing I would have expected from him. He’s cracked open that hard outer shell from the hospital and exposed a part of himself that I don’t think he shows very often. Maybe it’s because he’s back in Manchester for the first time in years. Maybe it’s because no one’s ever been brave enough to flat out ask him these questions. Whatever it is, I get the feeling it’s having a major effect on Gareth.
“I remember a bit of when you two were happy like that,” Gareth states out of nowhere, his voice low and brow pensive.
Vi turns her watery, surprised eyes to him. “You remember those times?” She whispers the question but we all hear it.
“In the Manchester flat, yeah.” He nods woodenly, his eyes darkened like he’s haunted by the happy memories.
She shakes her head sadly. “I can’t remember the Manchester flat. My memories only include the London house. That was, of course, when Mum was sick.”
Vaughn clears his throat and looks down at his plate, a shameful posture hunching his shoulders. “Things were different in London.”
“Dad—” Vi begins to soothe, but Vaughn cuts her off.
“In Manchester, things were happy. Warm. I remember I couldn’t wait to get back home after travelling for matches because I missed the madness of our Manchester flat. One of you was always crying, or fighting, or needing something. It was chaos all the time. Your mother and I had to divide and conquer because she refused to ever hire an au pair. I bloody well loved every minute of it.”
Gareth pulls his lip into his mouth and seemingly selects a spot on the table to stare at while his thoughts most likely drift to memories he’s long since forgotten.
“The hotels our team stayed at for away matches were lonely. I’d have a room all to myself when I was so used to having a kid tucked up between me and your mother at night. So quiet, too…A lot like those hospitals.”
Vi sniffs softly but Vaughn keeps going, clearly needing to get these words out so much that he doesn’t even notice the tears streaming down his daughter’s face.
“The hospital you were in last night is where I found out your mother was truly sick and not just run down from chasing after five kids. They told us there was nothing they could do for her and that our best bet would be to make her last days comfortable.”
Vaughn inhales deeply and begins shaking his head back and forth. “That light she had—that magic, that sparkle—was being sucked out of her body. Like taking a colourful photo and turning it black and white.”
Vi’s voice is garbled when she says, “How awful, Dad. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been for the two of you.” She reaches out to touch his hand, but Vaughn recoils away from her.
“Vilma made peace with her diagnosis, but I certainly didn’t. I couldn’t get over the fact that the happy life we created was mocking me everywhere I looked. I couldn’t enjoy the sounds of you kids fighting. Hell, I couldn’t even play football anymore. I hated the pitch. I’d see the place she always sat for my home games and picture it empty. The image killed me. She was the root of our family. She held us all up. She was our magic, and I did not want to do this life without her.
“So I started taking her to other hospitals. Different doctors. I think we saw every doctor here in Manchester three times before I quit playing for Manchester United and forced her to move to the London house. I forced her to try surgeries that never resulted in what we wanted. I forced her to take medication that made her feel horrible. I forced her to keep fighting when all she wanted to do was go to the bloody beach.”
Vaughn’s voice cracks and he brings his fist to his mouth to bite down on his knuckle. I look around the table through watery eyes and see everyone else is crying, too. I even see a tear slip down Gareth’s cheek, and it takes everything in me to not go over and hold him. I can so easily picture him as a little boy living through that horror at about the same age Sophia is now. It’s everything I went through with Sophia but reversed. How would all of that look through a child’s eyes? When you’re young, your parents are supposed to be strong and protective. Not sick and crumbling.
Vi’s wobbly voice breaks the silence. “What do you mean a beach, Dad? What beach are you talking about?”
Vaughn looks up at her tear-stricken face and it cuts straight through him. He bows his head in shame. “Vilma wanted to go to a warm beach. She wanted to put her toes in the sand and watch you kids play so she could pass on with happy family memories. It was such a simple request, but I was selfish. I wasn’t ready to lose the love of my life—my best friend. That’s why I begged her to fight with everything she had left to give. In the end, we all lost.
“If only I’d taken her to the bloody beach,” he mumbles and rubs his hand over his forehead. “Maybe that light would have come back in her eyes before she died, and I could have remembered how she always was in the beginning. Not what I turned her into at the end.”
The table grows quiet again, the faint sounds of Vi’s running nose narrating the heavy emotion in the room. I can hear Vaughn swallowing his pain down, burying a knot that probably lives in his stomach permanently. The same knot that Gareth has for completely different reasons. It’s no wonder this family is so pained by the loss of their mother. The entire story was a nightmare that these five children had to live through.
“Her light was still there in the end, you know,” Gareth husks, his voice raw with pain. He aggressively swipes at moisture under his nose and adds through clenched teeth, “That light was there for me. I saw it every time I was with her. I even saw it when she died. And despite everything, she loved you, even at the end, Dad. She still completely loved you.”
Vaughn’s red-rimmed eyes pin Gareth with a knowing look. “I didn’t deserve it,” he croaks.
Gareth nods woodenly. “But that light was there all the same.”
Vaughn purses his lips, tears filling his eyes as he covers his face to conceal his reaction. He sniffs loudly and looks away, trying hard to compose himself. “Thank you for telling me that.”
Gareth shakes off his father’s thanks, seemingly uncomfortable with what’s shifting between them.
Suddenly, Vi’s voice bellows, “We’re going to the beach.”
“What?” Gareth turns a confused look at his sister.
“We’re going to the beach to have a wake for Mum.”
“Vi, I don’t think…” Gareth begins.
Vi is undeterred. “Her funeral was horrible and we were all too young to grieve her properly. This is what Mum would have wanted.”
She looks back at her brother hopefully with bright, blue, begging eyes, but it’s her father’s response that gives her the permission she’s longing for.
“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Vaughn states with a stoic nod. “You’re right. It’s exactly what Vilma would have wanted.”
“Exactly,” Vi replies, then adds in a rush, “And I’m going to marry Hayden while we’re there.”
Gareth’s face goes white. “You want to do
a wake and a wedding?”
She nods firmly, not at all fazed by his expression.
Freya’s voice chimes in next. “I think it’s a lovely idea! The end of one love story, the beginning of another!”
“Thank you, Freya!” Vi exclaims and turns her eyes back to Gareth. “Life is short, Gareth. I don’t want to wait anymore. This can work, but you have to be there for me or I won’t do it.”
Gareth scoffs and shakes his head from side-to-side, then begins nodding just as quickly. “If you want me there, I’ll be there, Vi. You know that.”
A wobbly smile spreads across her face. “Brilliant. You boys all have winter break coming up and the doctor should clear you to travel by then, so this will work. This is important enough to make work.”
Vaughn nods firmly and reaches out to hold Vi’s hand. “Whatever you need, Vi, I’m here to help.”
Gareth stares at his father, still greatly confused. This is a very different man sitting in front of us than the guy who showed up at the hospital. But this entire day has been confusing. Never in my life would I have expected to have some of the Harris family sitting at my table, so maybe that’s just what Manchester does to them.
And maybe this is all a good thing. Maybe this is the start of some Harris family healing that Gareth so desperately needs.
THE NEXT DAY PASSES RATHER strangely. For over ten years, I lived a life of seclusion in Manchester. It was my own little world where I worked out, trained, ate my prepared meals, and travelled with my team. I took the train to London on Sundays for family dinners when I could. I fielded calls from my siblings on a daily basis. It was a simple life. One that I appreciated because it kept me in a routine that I had complete control over. But when Vi suggested everyone fly in for Christmas Eve at my home in Astbury because of my travel restrictions, I could tell it was the beginning of a shift in our family.
So, once the police cleared my home, I said goodbye to Sloan, who was prepping for Sophia’s return. I respect her space and I’m glad I’m not going to infringe on their Christmas together. I realised when I left that I probably wouldn’t be hearing from her for another week. But it doesn’t bother me as much as it did before because I know the reasoning behind it now.
By this afternoon, my entire family had flown in to Manchester on a private jet. My brothers moaned about how they’d have to leave for training really early tomorrow, but being together no matter what is the Harris way. The silver lining is that they’ve kept me too busy to give Sloan and her daughter much thought. Everyone filed into my house with arms full of presents, though. My dad, Vi, Hayden, and Rocky. Camden, Indie, Tanner, and Belle. Even Booker and his pregnant girlfriend, Poppy. She’s not due for another three months, but she looks like she could tip over with that football attached to her stomach.
Thankfully, the damage to my house from the attack was minimal. My house manager, Dorinda, was quickly cleared of any involvement, so she was able to help get everything back to normal before I returned home.
Walking back into my house after knowing someone was in there was an eerie feeling. It was an even eerier feeling to look at the front door knowing that’s where Sloan and I were knocked out and I still can’t remember a fucking thing. The doctor said that something might trigger my memory someday or it may never return. Regardless, the police are working diligently to catch whomever did this. For now, I’m just grateful to have my family here with me to distract my thoughts.
My brothers made themselves at home in the theatre room right away, flicking through old football games and wrestling on the floor like animals, even pulling Rocky into the madness. Vi took over my kitchen like she’d cooked in it a thousand times before. It was madness but kind of nice. After seeing Sloan’s home and Sophia’s bedroom and hearing my dad talk about how he enjoyed the chaos of a big family, it made me long for a bit more mess in my life.
“Gareth, where’s Sloan the Stylist today?” Tanner asks in a bouncy tone as he plops down next to me on the sofa in the living room.
It’s a proper relaxed holiday as the telly blares some old film while Rocky plays on the floor with Hayden and her new toys. Booker and Camden are on the other end of the couch while the girls are all huddled in the kitchen, sipping wine. Dad is upstairs napping like he’s been here a million times before and this isn’t the first time he’s stepped foot inside my house.
“She’s celebrating at home with her…daughter,” I reply, feeling my three brothers’ eyes on me along with my brother-in-law’s.
Tanner strokes his beard slowly. “So you guys aren’t ‘Christmas official’ yet? Is that because you’re still celibate and she won’t buy the bull until she can sample the…milk?” His face falls in disgust over his own euphemism gone horribly wrong.
“You can fuck off,” I grumble and shove him in the arm.
Hayden hits me with a warning look for cursing in front of Rocky. Thankfully, she’s completely lost in her toys and not in a repeating mood.
Tanner chuckles like a moron. “I’m only joking. It’s clear you’ve shagged her considering how possessive she was over you at the hospital. Bloody hell, it was kind of hot.”
My nostrils flare and with one look, Tanner holds his hands up in surrender.
“Christ, calm yourself, bro. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two are in looove.” He drags out the last word dramatically and redirects his attention back to the television.
His comment has my shoulders tensing. Before I left Sloan’s house, there was a shift in our relationship. But I haven’t had a chance to discuss it with her, and I’d rather not be concussed when we do talk about where we stand with each other.
I can feel Camden’s eyes on me from the other end of the couch when he asks, “So, are you bringing her on this trip Vi is planning?”
My jaw tightens. “I’m not sure.”
“Why not?”
“Because we haven’t discussed it.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’ve had a bit going on as of late, Camden. Jesus Christ. Back off!”
Cam recoils and thankfully has the decency to close his mouth for a minute. Perhaps a bit more of a mess around the house isn’t all it’s cracked up to be when you’re getting a Harris Brother inquisition brought down upon you.
The wake-wedding trip hasn’t been at the forefront of my mind at all. I’ve mostly been thinking about everything Dad said and the way he’s been acting since he arrived here. Speaking more freely about Mum. Being talkative and helpful when he can be. He’s almost acting human. I can’t wrap my mind around it.
“So, are you planning to be a stepdaddy to Sloan’s little girl?” Tanner asks, apparently not done tormenting me.
“What?” I snap, sliding narrowed eyes at him.
He shrugs innocently. “Or, what is it they call them in America? Sugar daddy?”
“Piss off, Tanner,” I reply gruffly. “Sloan doesn’t need my money.”
Tanner tilts his head curiously. “Who is her husband? He was at the pitch that day of the Kid Kickers camp, right?”
“Ex-husband,” I correct, uncomfortable that he’s pressing for information that I don’t even have a full grasp on yet. “His name is Callum, but it’s really none of your business.”
“Everything’s our business. We’re Harrises. It’s our job to be nosey sods.” He shoots me a cheeky wink and adds, “You went from having no life to finding a woman who looked like she’d fight tooth and nail for you, bro. This is something we don’t want you to muck up!”
Camden interjects, “I don’t even recall you having a girlfriend when we were kids. Now you’ve gotten serious with a single mum?” He shakes his head and puffs his chest out as he does his ridiculous impression of the Queen. “Is this woman of noble birth? Is the child legitimate? Perhaps we should have them over for high tea.”
“Oh yes,” Tanner practically peals his agreement, his voice bursting with his own over-the-top impression. “I’ve just had a new vat of clotted cream c
hurned fresh by my servants. I’d be chuffed to bits to have your little friends over. Please do send them an invitation.”
I roll my eyes, but my brooding mood can’t help but lift by these two having a laugh. Leave it to these wankers to not only invade my home but invade my personal life and still manage to amuse me. When I travel to London, it’s easier to keep my private life private. Here, there are no kilometres to stop them from going balls deep in my personal matters.
“I don’t even know how serious we are yet,” I murmur half-heartedly.
“Maybe you should figure that out,” Camden replies, eyeing me with a meaningful look. “A great place to do that is at Vi’s wedding.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I state quietly, anxiety prickling the back of my neck.
“We’ll all have someone with us. So should you. What’s the big deal?” Camden deadpans.
“Need I remind you that Vi’s also organising our deceased mum’s wake?” I retort, leaning back in my seat and shaking my head. “I don’t think Sloan needs to witness the hot Harris mess that will be. She’s already witnessed more of our family drama than she can handle, I’m sure. Plus she’s a mother. I highly doubt she can leave her child on a whim.”
“Even mums need a holiday on occasion,” Hayden adds from his spot on the floor as he fake walks a babydoll in front of Rocky. I glare at him for siding with my brothers, but he just shrugs. “I have to constantly remind Vi to take a break from Rocky for her sanity. If Sloan’s a single parent, I venture to guess no one is giving her reminders.”
“Plus, I’d like to get to know her better,” Booker states softly, breaking his silence from his spot beside Camden. He leans forward and runs his hands down his thighs. “She was brilliant against Dad at the hospital. None of us could stand up to him the way she did, Gareth. I liked seeing someone by your side like that.”
He blinks his dark eyes at me, suddenly looking very old and wise beyond his years. Our youngest brother has changed so much in the past year. Perhaps it’s because he’s about to become a father, but seeing him like this is a bit disarming.