by Karen Booth
She played it cool though, uncrossing her legs and rising from her perch. She took a few steps toward the play structure, cupped her hands around her mouth, and called for Fiona. From behind a slide, a shock of auburn hair popped up. There she was—the real light of Eamon's life.
Fiona turned and saw Eamon, then took off after him. He did the same, letting go of my hand and rushing up to her. He scooped her up into his arms and held her for a few heartbeats. Fiona was going to be like her dad—tall.
Rachel and I converged on them at the same time and I tried to ignore the way it felt like I was intruding in their lives. Yes, Eamon wanted me there, and I was going to have to meet them both at some point, but it felt as though I was treading on the sanctity of their history.
Eamon leaned down and kissed Fiona's forehead. “I want you to meet Katherine.”
Fiona walked right up to me and stuck out her hand. “Hello. I'm Fiona. I'm his daughter. I'm eight, but really, I'm practically nine. Only thirty-seven more days until my birthday.”
I shook her small cold hand, a bit mesmerized. Fiona was not only a beautiful girl, with bright pink cheeks, shocking blue-gray eyes, and a thick head of wavy hair. I could see her Dad in there. It was plain as day. And it made me love her from the very first minute. “I’m Katherine. I'm nearly thirty-three, but I don't like to talk about it too much.”
Fiona waved it off. “That's nothing. Dad's forty.”
“So I've heard.”
Eamon cleared his throat. “Katherine, Rachel. Rachel, this is Katherine.”
"I finally meet the famous Katherine." Rachel pulled off a fluffy mitten and shook my hand. She was much more petite than I'd imagined. Probably only an inch or two above five feet. She was also more beautiful in person than I'd bargained on—gorgeous dark brown hair and striking blue eyes. No wonder Eamon had wanted her for his wife.
“You must have me confused with someone else. I'm definitely not famous. That'd be your husband.” Shit. I shook my head. “I mean your ex-husband. That would be Eamon.” I was officially bungling this. I hoped to God that Eamon wasn't embarrassed by me. “Really I'm more infamous than anything.”
“He's talked about you forever,” Rachel said.
I glanced over at Eamon and his eyebrows popped up, but he didn't say anything. I still couldn't comprehend that Eamon had ever spoken a single word about me to anyone. “It's very nice to meet you.”
“And you as well.”
Fiona grabbed my hand. “Katherine, come play.”
I shuffled along, looking back at Eamon. “I’ll be over here, playing.”
“Have fun!”
Fiona was a whirlwind, climbing ladders and swooping down slides, spinning and skipping and twirling in constant motion. I was determined to keep up with her. All those hours at the gym had to be worth something. She led and I followed, like Alice shadowing the white rabbit down the hole into Wonderland. She giggled at nearly everything. It was contagious. Once I started laughing, I couldn't stop, cold air rushing in and out of my lungs. She did outrun me eventually.
“Fiona. I need a sec.” I leaned against the play structure, gasping. “And I keep hitting my head on that bar above the slide.”
She stopped dead in her tracks, standing straight as a pin. “Let's go on the swings. It's practically like having a rest.”
Practically. We wound our way over and found two at the far end, giving us a straight view of Rachel and Eamon. They were sitting on the same bench, but each at their respective end. Rachel had her legs and arms crossed. Eamon was on the edge of his seat, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. There was some conversation going back and forth between them, but it wasn't much. There were certainly long stretches when no words were uttered. That was when I sensed the void between them—the place where whatever love they'd shared must have died.
“Do you like my dad?” Fiona whizzed past me on the swing.
“I do. I like him a lot.” I was taking a more leisurely approach to this pursuit. My legs and face were freezing.
“My mam says you've known each other a long time. Since before she knew him.”
“That's true. But we've been apart for a long time, too.”
Fiona suddenly dragged her feet across the playground blacktop. “Why were you apart? If you liked each other?”
I came to a stop, too. “Bad timing, I suppose. Plus, you should be happy I left. You might not have been born otherwise.”
Fiona tilted her head and stared at me much in the way her father could, making me feel like she could see right inside my head. “I would've found a way to be born. I can't imagine not being here.”
I found myself marveling at her, even after only a half hour. What an amazing way to look at the world. She was nearly nine, halfway between my age and Amy's when we lost our mom. Had we been like her? So precocious and comfortable in our own skin? Somehow, I doubted it, especially of myself.
“Fiona, come here. I want to see you,” Eamon called.
She ran right to him, but I took my time, wanting to give them their space. Right away, she climbed up onto his lap and starting talking a million miles a minute. That reminded me of Amy.
“Did you and Katherine have fun?” Eamon asked.
“I did. I like her, Dad.” Fiona's forehead crinkled. “I hope that's okay with you, Mam.”
Rachel laughed. “Yeah. Perfectly okay with me.” Her answer had a definite undertone of He's yours. You can have him.
“Good. I'm glad you got to meet each other,” Eamon said.
Rachel pressed her lips together. “Eamon, have you had a chance to think about taking Fiona for a few weeks? I really want to go on this trip.”
“I haven't talked to Katherine about it yet.”
“Seriously, Eamon? I asked you more than two weeks ago. James and I haven't been able to get away on our own at all. Now that you have a bit of a break, it's time for you to spend time with your daughter.” Rachel's voice was about as irritated as a person's could be.
Eamon turned to me. “I hate to put you on the spot, and you don't have to answer right now, but would it be alright if Fiona stayed with us at your place for a few weeks while Rachel goes to Mexico?” He'd said he didn't want to put me on the spot, but he looked at me like his whole life was riding on this moment.
“You really don't have to answer right now,” Rachel interjected. “He should have asked you earlier.”
Eamon looked away, seeming annoyed. Fiona was leaning back, practically threatening to break his arm. How could I ever say no to that sweet face? There was no way I could.
“Of course Fiona can stay with us. As long as you like.”
Fiona bounced up and down and squealed. “Yay!”
Now I was truly happy I'd agreed, albeit also a bit surprised. I was not the person who dealt well with spur-of-the-minute, seat-of-my-pants decisions. “Amy left her bed, so Fiona can have her own room. We have plenty of space.” I couldn't ignore the way I'd said “we”. It had just come out. Like I was totally comfortable with so much change. Maybe this was the perfect time for it. I was already on a bit of a roll.
Rachel and I were both cold, so the four of us walked to the coffee shop on the corner and wedged ourselves around a small bistro table, Fiona sipping hot cocoa, Eamon and I going for coffee, and Rachel opting for tea.
“What does your husband do?” I asked Rachel, desperate to make small talk. Eamon had told me so little.
“He's an art dealer. Owns a gallery in Philadelphia. I work there, too, when I'm not home-schooling Fiona.”
I was a bit surprised they'd opted to home-school Fiona. “What will she do for school when she comes to stay with us?”
“She can Skype with her tutor. Otherwise, you've got Thanksgiving in there. She doesn’t need to be studying every day.”
Thanksgiving. I hadn't even considered that. My first big holiday with Eamon and his daughter would be there, too. Talk about a giant leap into domesticity for me. “Sounds good.”
Eamon looked to me for an answer. “Of course. Any day is fine.”
Rachel smiled. “Grand. Thanks.”
We said our goodbyes out on the street, Fiona and Eamon taking the longest to part.
“I love you, Fi. You know that, don't you?”
She brushed her hair off her face. “Of course, Daddy. I love you, too.”
I was fairly certain my heart was about to explode.
Eamon and I walked back to my apartment, only talking about little things like what to have for dinner. The minute we walked through the door, clothes started to come off. Sex was this thing we were driven to pursue with each other, any chance we had, especially if we'd gone several hours without it.
As we settled in under the covers, I had to ask Eamon about his marriage again. I had to know what went wrong.
“Why do you want to know, exactly?”
“It's just, I looked at the three of you together in the park and I was trying to piece it all together. Rachel seems like a great mom and she's clearly smart and beautiful. I'm wondering why it didn't work.”
He sighed and sat up in bed, scooting back and leaning against the headboard. I followed and clicked on the bedside lamp. “Rachel and I care about each other, and we love each other as people, but we were never in love. We were never desperate to be together. We got married because I went and got her pregnant and her parents are as Catholic as they come. Her mam was dying and Rachel couldn't stand to upset her, but there was no hiding her belly. We had to do it.”
I listened, taking in the details and fitting them in with the parts I already knew. When Eamon had gotten married all those years ago, the news had thrown me for such a loop. The fact that I'd found out while I was standing in line at CVS to buy tampons and toothpaste only made it worse. Sharing someone you love with the world was incredibly hard. Sharing someone you loved and lost is impossible.
The headline on the wedding issue had made it difficult to ignore. Irish Rocker Eamon MacWard Ties the Knot. Inside was a spread of beautiful professional pictures. Eamon looking so dashing in a gray coat and tails, holding hands with a truly stunning Rachel. They were smiling. Their hands were intertwined. At the time, it was a dagger to my heart.
“What happened after you got married? You must've been happy for at least a little while.”
“The second record blew up and I went on the road. I wasn't there when Fiona was born. And I wasn't there when Rachel's mam passed. She was understandably pissed when I came home from tour. She had a six week-old and was trying to mourn. It was terrible. I tried to be a help, but it was like a wall had gone up between us. Turns out there was another fella in the picture at that point. Can't blame her. She'd gotten nothing but a ring and a house out of me.”
“Is that the man she's married to now?”
Eamon nodded. “Yeah. She's very happy. There's a lot to be said for listening to your heart. I should've done it a long time ago.” The saddest smile I'd ever seen rolled across his face. He reached for my hand and pulled it flat against his bare chest. His warmth, the fine hair, the thump of his heart—it all put a tiny mark on me. “I’m pissed at myself for waiting for you to come back into my life. It was stupid. I should've gone after you the minute my marriage was over.”
“Maybe that's the way it was supposed to happen. And I wasn't in the best place either. I was struggling to find the right job. My dad was drinking too much. Amy was finishing law school and was a miserable pain in my butt.”
“I could've been there for you. We could've been there for each other.”
“But you were touring like a madman, weren't you? I wouldn't have wanted to deal with that. That would've been too hard. Saying goodbye all the time.”
“I hate goodbye.”
“I do, too.”
“Let's never say goodbye again. I know you don't want to talk about marriage, but could you promise me that much?”
Good God the man had a way of putting me in a corner, but it wasn't difficult to answer. “I promise, Eamon. I promise.”
After all, it was the last thing I ever wanted to say to anyone.
Chapter Fourteen
The process of folding my world into Eamon's, and vice versa, had officially begun. A few days after I met Fiona and Rachel, Eamon and I went over to Luke and Amy's place in Brooklyn for dinner.
“I’m so excited you're here,” Amy exclaimed as soon as she flung open the door. Her face was lit up like a Christmas tree. Who knew she was going to be so thrilled about our arrival? Of course, she went in for a hug from Eamon before she got one from me. It was hard to blame her.
“Thanks for the invitation. You must be Luke. I've heard a lot about you,” Eamon held out his hand.
“Oh, man. It is so great to meet you. I'm a big fan,” Luke said.
Eamon glanced over at me and smiled. This was uncomfortable for him. As much as he was forced to be in the spotlight, he didn't like it. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”
“Come on in. I just bought a new turntable. Maybe you can tell me what you think.” Luke led Eamon into the other room, leaving Amy and me by ourselves.
“Help me in the kitchen?” Amy asked. “I’m still working on dinner.”
I took off my coat and hung it on the rack next to the front door. The air was perfumed with wine and the homey fragrance of something that had been cooking all day long. “It smells amazing in here. I hope you didn't go to much trouble.”
Amy and Luke's kitchen was small, typical for New York, except it was completely updated—stainless steel appliances and stone countertops and basically perfect, nothing like my set-up in the city. “Just Beef Bourguignon.” Amy lifted the lid off a Le Creuset French Dutch oven, in amethyst purple, one of the newer colors. NACI and I worked on the account. “I hope it tastes half as good as it smells.” She replaced the lid and poured us each a glass of red wine. “Cheers. Here's to handsome men who like us.”
I clinked my glass with hers. “Fingers crossed it stays that way.” I took a long sip, thinking so far, so good.
“How are things with Eamon?” Amy whispered, leaning back against the counter.
“It's a little weird getting used to having someone in my space who isn't their own autonomous human being.”
Amy laughed. “I’m not exactly sure what that means.”
I took a glance down the hall to make sure Eamon and Luke weren't within earshot. “It's just that I have to think about him in addition to me. What we're going to eat for dinner. What we're going to do on the weekend. Stuff like that. I never had to bother with that with you.”
“That's what you get with a roommate who you are also fucking.”
My face went white hot. How Amy still managed to embarrass me was a mystery, but she did. “True.”
“And that's commitment. Living together. Becoming a part of each other's lives.”
My younger sister was now the mature, seasoned one. The one who knew exactly what she was doing. I was the one lagging behind and flailing. “It's not bad. I love having him here. It's just different.”
“You have a rosy glow. That's all that matters.” Amy elbowed me in the ribcage and I laughed again.
“I missed you.” I had to admit it.
“We talk almost every day. And we got together to do all the wedding stuff.”
“I know. It's not the same though. Just hanging out. Talking. It's nice.”
“Speaking of the wedding, I heard from the florist and her quote was quite reasonable, so that's all set.”
I couldn't help but notice how she'd just whizzed past the moment I'd been trying to have with her. “Sounds like you have it all figured out. Anything I can do?”
She shook her head and glanced at the kitchen timer. “Nope. But I'll let you know if that changes. Let's get the guys so we can eat.”
Eamon and Luke were sitting on the living room couch, intently listening to the vinyl spinni
ng on the turntable.
“It's John Martyn,” Eamon shouted above the music.
“I have no clue who that is.” My musical naiveté aside, Eamon was awfully adorable right now. He was so excited. Like a little kid.
“Basically the James Taylor of England. Huge influence on me.”
I sat down on the couch next to him. How awesome to learn something new. “Very cool.”
Luke was beaming at Eamon. They grinned at each other, apparently now bonded over this piece of music synergy between them.
“I’m going to need you to turn that down though.” Amy placed her hand on Luke's shoulder.
He lunged for the volume knob. “Absolutely. Sorry.”
“No worries. We're ready to eat and I'd like to be able to speak during our meal if that's okay with you.”
Eamon and I had a seat at the small table for four, which straddled the space between the living room and kitchen. Amy had set out some familiar cloth napkins with tiny embroidered roses on them—very girly for her, but something our neighbor Mrs. Abelman gave to our family after she learned of Grandma Price's thievery, which included several tablecloths and napkin sets. I could've suggested Amy carry one of these on her wedding day if the necklace didn't pan out, but that would have to be my backup plan. The pearls were my top priority.
Amy brought her culinary masterpiece to the table, setting it right in the center. Luke followed with a basket of bread.
“Looks grand, Amy. Thank you,” Eamon said.
Judging by the blush on her face, you'd have thought he'd told her she was the most beautiful woman in the world. “Aren't you sweet?”
“He is,” I said. “It's absolutely true.”
“Don't tell anyone. It will interfere with my brooding poet image.” Eamon laughed. He was fantastic at poking fun at himself.
The dinner progressed as we roamed from topic to topic—the wedding (of course), music (ditto), and our jobs. I wasn't eager to talk about work, since Miles was making me miserable, but somehow it didn't even matter tonight. The wine was flowing, music playing, and most notably, there wasn't a single instant of tension. As I watched my sister laugh so hard that she was clutching her stomach, I had to wonder if this was what contentment felt like. I couldn't think of anything more I wanted at that moment—my favorite people, good conversation, and a lovely meal. It felt perfect.