The Aisle and Skye (The Skye Series Book 2)

by Fox Brison

  I snorted sardonically. I already had my finger on The Grim Reaper’s doorbell.

  “Skye,” Sara held my hand, “it’s going to be okay. We’ll get through this. You have Nat-”

  “I told you, Sara, she is not to know.” When it came to protecting Nat, no matter how cowed or weak I was, I’d always find my voice.

  “Is Nat your partner?” Dr Osman stared compassionately.

  “Yes, she is.”

  “You should tell her. You will need support no matter what the outcome. Once the mammogram has been performed, there will possibly be the need for biopsies and-”

  “And when I know, I’ll tell her.” I was determined and would brook no more discussion on the subject.

  I recognised I was lying to everyone, including myself.

  “Is there anything else?” I wanted out of there. I wanted to run as far away from reality as I could, but that luxury had been taken from me by Sara’s mere presence.

  “No, just wait for the appointment and try not to let it rule your life.”

  Easier said than done.

  Much easier said than done.

  ***

  Sara tried to talk to me in the car on the way home, but I brushed her off, first quite calmly and then with an incensed, “What part of I don’t want to talk about it don’t you understand?” So we didn’t – or about anything else for that matter. Arriving back at the cottage, I wrenched open the car door and my key was in the Yale lock before Sara had even turned off the engine. Bypassing the living and bedroom, I dashed into the bathroom where I leant over the toilet bowl willing myself not to be sick, my imagination a rifle, it’s sight targeted on the worst case scenario.

  Bang. Me going through chemo.

  Bang. Nat having feed and bathe me.

  Bang. The bedroom converted to a sick room.

  The same image kept replaying over and over in my head. My father on his death bed. Was that to be my legacy? It appeared Karma had decided to screw with my life and apparently it didn’t matter how good a person I was, in one of my previous incarnations I must have been a psychopath.

  Psychopath? I must have been Attila the bloody Hun to warrant this level of payback…

  Chapter 25

  Skye

  “Natalie will be back soon, Sara, you’d better go,” I said, finally coming out of the bathroom when I felt as if I wasn’t going to vomit everywhere.

  “I don’t think you should be on your own.” Sara put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed.

  “If you’re here in the middle of a school day she’ll want to know why. Please don’t force the issue, I can’t... I can’t deal with this right now.”

  “Okay,” she agreed reluctantly. “I’ll call you later?”

  I acknowledged her with a snappish, “My flight’s sharp tomorrow, so I’ll be having an early night.” Yes I was being a bitch. It was all I had left in my arsenal. I jolted when I heard the almost inaudible click of the front door closing behind her, and I angrily swiped at the tears that dared to grace my eyes. Sara left with many words unspoken but with a look that said everything.

  Operating on rote, I began preparing a special goodbye dinner for Nat and I, lasagne, her favourite. My breath hitched but I ignored the tightness in my chest. Muscle memory thankfully seized control and I started listing the recipe as if I was a contestant on ‘Come Dine With Me.’ Fry one onion, large, and brown the minced beef. Organic, of course. The unrelenting voiceover in my brain achieved what nothing else had managed to do; it drowned out the last four hours of my life and I followed it’s dictatorial orders adding ingredients to the pan… tomatoes, garlic, oregano… until the lasagne sauce was bubbling away. I was in two minds about making the béchamel sauce from scratch or cheating and using a packet mix when a lack of flour decided it for me. I tasted the tomato sauce and sprinkled in a pinch more oregano before assembling the dish and finishing it off with a layer of grated cheese. Slamming it in the oven I raced to the bathroom, where I barely had enough time to shower before Natalie came home.

  I didn’t want to risk being disturbed.

  Nat and I frequently shared showers; it was good for the environment, never mind our sex life. She was the epitome of temptation when soaping herself down and, much to my surprise and delight, I had the same effect on her. But I couldn’t risk her joining me today, so I locked the door, something I never did. However, it turned out to be an unnecessary precaution because I was washed and dressed well before her car lights lit up the living room.

  The front door banged open. “Hey, oh wow.” Natalie skidded to a halt. I was wearing a LBD that I’d packed for the occasion and her eyes raked me up and down. Admiringly. Yes, that ticked all the boxes. “You look fantastic.” She crushed me in a hug.

  I hoped she didn’t feel me tense. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes or so.”

  “So I have time for a shower?”

  “Plenty of time.”

  “Wanna come and wash my back?” She waggled her eyebrows and I cupped her chin in the palm of my hand and reaching up, I kissed her, our lips touching with a promise of forever. “Wow again,” she said dreamily.

  “I have to keep an eye on dinner,” I lowered my eyes and neatly sidestepped her invitation. “Go shower and put something nice on for me.” I kissed her again and she rushed off to do my bidding.

  ***

  The glow from the stove was as effective as any lamp and I lit a few candles to add to the ambience. By the time Natalie returned wearing one of my favourite outfits, crisp white shirt, blue chinos and tan loafers, not to mention her wet look hair, the lasagne was cooling on the table next to garlic bread, salad and two glasses of white wine.

  “The table looks amazing,” she said appreciating the effort I’d made. I’d even used the good china that she’d also retrieved from storage. She’d thought of everything to make my compulsive life less stressful. “My favourite dinner in the world, ever.” We sat down and began to eat.

  “Mmm, this is delicious, darling. So are you?” She didn’t use the word and left the question hanging but I knew exactly what she was referring to. My packing.

  “All done this afternoon.”

  Neither of us could meet each other’s eyes; I didn’t want her to see the fear and panic in mine and I wasn’t sure what Nat’s reason was, but I guessed it had something to do with this being our ‘last supper.’ I was determined our night together would not be dominated by weighty pauses and unsaid fears, so I channelled normality. “The kids had a spat yesterday when they were playing football.”

  “Yeah? What about?” Nat asked. There was palpable relief at the change of tack.

  “Jamie and Jack were arguing over who was going to be their Aunty Nat.”

  “Really?” Her grin was adorable.

  “Really.”

  I forced myself to eat, even though the gurgle in my stomach remained like a dormant volcano waiting to erupt. And again there was silence, coupled with lingering looks and loving touches until Natalie scraped tomato sauce from her plate with the last piece of garlic bread.

  “That was the best lasagne I’ve ever had, sweetie.”

  “You say that every time!” I laughed as she rubbed her stomach and opened the top button of her trousers. “I’m sure you’re only with me for my cooking. The way to a woman’s heart is through her stomach, eh, Jeffries?” I teased.

  “Baby,” she took my hand, lifted it to her heart and held it firmly in place. I imagined the steady cadence beating beneath my hand. “I’d die if I lost you, you know that don’t you? And it has nothing to do with your cooking.” I think she was surprised when her avowal of love didn’t lead me to jump her bones like it usually would, instead I burst into tears. “Skye? Sweetheart?”

  “I’m… I’m sor… sorry, Nat. I wish I was staying here with you.” And I did. I really, really did.

  Natalie picked up her paper napkin and passed it to me. “Hey, it’s okay. Christmas will be here before we know it, and then
it’ll only be another few weeks until I’m back in Boston for good. And after this I’m never going anywhere without you ever again. Okay?”

  “Yes, okay,” I agreed, inwardly praying that nothing would separate us, except… and the dread that wasn’t far from the back of my mind edged forward.

  “Look c’mon, let’s leave the tidy up and I’ll do it tomorrow.” She kissed the palm of my hand. “We’d better make the most of the time we have left.”

  I stroked my thumb down her strong jaw. “Nat… can we… will you just hold me tonight, please?”

  “Whatever you want, darling.”

  She led me to the bedroom where she did as she promised and held me through the long night.

  The long night where I barely closed my eyes as I soaked in her protective touch, wishing life always felt so safe.

  Chapter 26

  Skye

  I didn’t think Natalie was going to let me get on the plane the next day, I had to practically prise myself out of her arms. I seriously thought about jacking in my job and staying with her, but I needed the distraction of work, especially now. I had to focus on my life rather than my…

  I shook my head.

  I returned to Boston a little dazed and a lot lost. I did my best to follow Dr Osman’s advice and tried to lead as normal a life as possible and funnily enough, the only time the ticking bomb in my body quietened to a faint murmur was when I was working with Tess on my Venerable Bede presentation. I adored the research, the hunt for answers, the pursuit of truth and an understanding about not only famous historical figures, but those that made up the majority of society, the ordinary men and women who shaped the world.

  Studying the past? Made it a damn sight easier to ignore the future that’s for sure.

  Bede was a monk based near modern day Sunderland in the North East of England. I’d already published a couple of papers on him whilst teaching at Durham University. He wrote a couple of books himself, over sixty in fact, one of which was intended to be used in the classroom. Bede was an educator, a seeker of knowledge rather like myself, and that’s what possibly first attracted me to his life.

  One of the things I find most interesting about history is it’s cyclical nature, and this was something I intended to explore in my presentation. Bede was furious that the native Britons in 700AD were reluctant to convert the invading Saxons to their religious beliefs. Bede wanted unity and his opus, Historia Ecclesiastica, was written with this objective in mind. He wished to show a united England, despite there being several disparate kingdoms, including Northumbria. Sound familiar? As I said, the cyclical nature fascinated me.

  However, whilst his book was optimistic, in private, rather like myself, Bede was far more pessimistic. And I found this affirming. Did he put on a brave face to his colleagues whilst dreading the loneliness of the night? Did he omit a large part of the west of England’s history because deep down he was afraid of the unknown?

  Was I trying to make his life mirror mine so I could fabricate answers to questions I didn’t want to ask?

  The only time my defences were down was when I spoke to Natalie, thus I began to make excuses to avoid talking too long: sorry, baby, I have to finish marking this quiz; sorry, sugar, my phone’s low on battery; I even resorted to the highly transparent, I have a terrible headache. But they weren’t going to cut it for much longer. Each call lasted barely minutes and I even though I knew I was pushing her away, I bellicosely tried to justify my actions. It’s for her own good. I have to protect her…

  I had to protect us both.

  Unfortunately, the only way I could do that was to go back to my factory settings and emotionally shut up shop. And each night I prayed quietly in the darkness that Natalie would still be there when I re-opened for business.

  ***

  My office on campus was tiny. I understood I was the low woman on the totem pole, in fact I was the low woman on the temporary totem pole, so the small office didn’t bother me, except when I was inundated with students.

  Like today.

  Today it was as if every single student in my undergrad classes wanted to talk to me about finals. At the same time. Despite me having office hours several times a week. Was I this bad when I was a student? I was sure the answer was no, but then again…

  Yeah you were, Donaghie!

  The phone on my desk rang. “Dr Donaghie,” I answered, waving to Regina, a scholarship student from New Jersey, who stood in my doorway. I put up one finger indicating I wasn’t going to be very long.

  “Dr Donaghie? Don’t you sound uber professional and sexy.” Natalie’s teasing voice echoed down the line and for a moment I forgot everything apart from her.

  But the stifled torment didn’t take long to make its presence known.

  “Hey, Natalie. I’ve got a student waiting. Is everything alright?”

  “Yes, just missing your voice is all.” It wasn’t an accusation, only a pure statement of fact.

  “I miss you too,” I admitted and grinned sheepishly at Regina who mouthed awww, “but I have a student gawking at me like I’ve lost my marbles. Can I call you later?” I checked the time. Another hour or so and she’d be in bed, so I could make the call safe in the knowledge she wouldn’t answer.

  “Sure. Yeah. Okay.” She caught her breath. “I love you.” She hung up before I could reciprocate, and I stared at the receiver. This was becoming a common occurrence. It was like she was frightened in case I didn’t immediately return the sentiment.

  “Doctor Donaghie, is this a bad time?” Reggie woke me.

  “No, Reggie, of course not. What can I do for you?”

  ***

  The flat became a refuge yet at the same time a prison. The four walls were a constant reminder of what was and of what could be. Pictures of Nat and I smiling happily at the camera, films we’d cuddled up to… there was even the first snow globe Natalie bought me from the Harvard Natural History Museum. Some days I would walk for hours anywhere, everywhere, just so I didn’t have to return home. On others, I raced inside and hid on the sofa, my knees curled underneath me.

  Keep everything normal.

  I chanted this phrase every morning, but positivity was becoming harder to find than a needle in the proverbial.

  A loud knocking interrupted my latest in a long line of maudlin and melancholy bonding sessions; I wasn’t expecting anyone because Tess and I agreed to have the night off before driving up to Yale the following morning for the presentation.

  But she’s probably discovered a better quote for line three, paragraph four, page twenty one.

  I peeked through the spyhole. It wasn’t Tess, it was Brooke. I wasn’t sure if she was the lesser or greater of the two evils. Grimacing, I stepped away from the door. I ignored the second rapid tattoo of knocks and considered, fleetingly, pretending that I wasn’t in.

  Nat wasn’t the only one I’d been avoiding, Abby and Brooke were on my evasion radar too.

  “Hey, Skye,” Brooke said after I relented and opened the door. “Bean and I were in the neighbourhood and this little fella’s been missing you, so I thought I’d take a chance and see if you were home. I hope you don’t mind.” Bean wagged his tail excitedly.

  “Not at all,” I said, waving them in. “I’ve been missing you too, yes, yes I have,” I bent down and addressed Bean in that voice all dog lovers use, you know, where you sound like a complete moron unable to form a sentence without saying the words ‘yes you are’ and ‘who’s a good boy/girl?’. “No Abby?”

  “She’s visiting her folks; her baby sister’s getting married next summer and she’s the maid of honour.”

  “And they’re organising things now?”

  “They’ve been organising it for the past year. It’s going to be the event of the summer in Abby’s small home town. So I was wondering if you’re free, do you feel like coming for a walk and then back to my place for pizza?”

  “While the mouse is away?” I grinned, not realising until Brooke frowned how shaky
my attempted smile was.

  “You gotta be a little naughty and indulgent every now and again,” she winked.

  “Isn’t that an advert for ice cream?” I asked.

  “Cherry Garcia if I remember rightly.”

  “If it contains ice cream and a thousand calories, I’ll eat any carton, no pun or encouragement needed. I’ll just grab my coat.”

  ***

  Brooke, Bean and I headed towards the Parkman Bandstand first (which always reminded me of a Greek temple, or a folly from an English stately home) before going to the Frog Pond, Bean’s utopia. We did our utmost to keep him out of the water, but failed miserably. We were out for a couple of hours, not really saying much apart from noting what Bean was up to. It was relaxing, invigorating, but most importantly, normal. By the time we got back to Beacon Hill, we’d built up a healthy appetite, something I hadn’t had for the last three weeks.

  Upshot, my chubby cheeks were disappearing.

  Brooke ordered two large pizzas and we owned no guilt at all for polishing them off - with a little help from our canine friend.

  “Fed and watered,” Brooke said, as Sarah Vaughn played in the background. I’d never listened to jazz before I met Brooke, but now I was hooked.

  “Thanks, Brooke, I needed this.”

  “Me too. I hate when Abbs is away, so God only knows how you’ve been coping without Nat!”

  “Oh, I’m okay.” I strove for enthusiasm, but rather like with Bean and keeping him out of water, I failed miserably.

  “I don’t want you to think I was eavesdropping earlier, but I couldn’t help overhear you and Nat. Is everything okay, Skye? It sounded strained.”

  “Brooke...” I trailed off. I didn’t know what to say.