by Scarlet West
“Uh huh?” I asked, shifting on the bed so I could focus on her properly.
“He has green eyes. Like mine.”
I stared at her. She’d noticed? As usual, she stunned me by how observant she truly was.
“Y..yes,” I stammered, feeling myself blush. What would I do if, after all, Drake wasn’t the one who guessed, but she did? It was a possibility I should have considered but had never even thought was possible.
“Yes, he does,” I repeated, frowning somewhat. “You’re a very observant girl.”
“Thanks,” she beamed, looking happy. “When you stared at him, I looked more carefully. I thought maybe you liked him.” She drew out the word “liked”, making it sound like a grave transgression.
I chuckled, cheeks flaming. Luckily, I didn’t blush all to noticeably, or the effect would have been spectacular. I grinned.
“Was I acting like I liked him?” I asked. Now that I was over the shock of her having noticed it, I was genuinely amused.
“I think so, yes,” my daughter said speculatively. “And when I saw he had green eyes, it made me smile. Did my daddy have green eyes, too?” she asked.
I swallowed hard. “Um, yes, he did, sweetie,” I said, nodding gravely. “You guessed it.”
She beamed, as she stood up, still smiling. “Now I know I’m a better sleuth than The Famous Five.”
I laughed weakly and she scampered off to the door, waving a hand.
“Night, mommy.”
“Night, sweetie,” I said faintly.
When she had gone upstairs again, I went over to shut the curtains, feeling finished. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror, my face strained.
“What’re you going to do if she guesses?”
I had absolutely no idea. I sat down at my dressing table, combing my hair slowly. It was something I had never thought about before. I would have to tell her the truth. And then I would have to tell Drake. Or, should I tell him first, before she guessed? That way, at least I would know what his reaction was going to be.
If it was a bad reaction, I’d rather she never knew the truth.
I had a decision to make and I’d better make it quick by the sound of things. Scolding myself in the mirror didn’t help my thinking, and I gave up, turned off the light and headed into the shower. When I came out and got into bed, it was ten o’ clock, and I scrolled through my phone to set an alarm for seven-thirty the next morning. While I did so, I noticed I had a text message from my brother.
Trina? You okay for supper tomorrow? Your place? Drake said he’d like to be there too. Tell me if that’s okay. It will be nice to catch up.
I felt my heart go through the floor. All the same, it could be an opportunity to say something. Maybe it was worth the risk.
Sure, I texted back. See you at seven-thirty.
Then I climbed into bed. I had expected to find it hard to get to sleep, but as it was I must have been more tired than I’d thought, because the next thing I knew the alarm shook me from my slumber.
14
Drake
The dust got in my nostrils, making me cough. I could see the sun just starting to lengthen toward the hills and I checked my watch, feeling abruptly relieved.
“Okay, guys,” I called. “Let’s end here, okay?”
Chorusing expressions of relief filled the mine shaft. In the half-dark of the space, Louis grinned.
“Whew, boss,” he chuckled, relaxing now. “I thought that’d never happen. I’ll be pleased to be out in the open space again.”
“Yeah,” I said. “Me too. I feel for the miners now.”
“Yeah,” Louis agreed, nodding firmly. “Me too.”
Together, sucking fresh air into our lungs, we wandered out into the brightness of the evening.
“See you, boss,” Len called over his shoulder. He had hefted the big video camera onto one shoulder as easily as if it weighed nothing. I sighed. I felt way more tired than he appeared to be to me.
“See you, Len,” I agreed. “Early start, huh?” We were shooting Ray’s first day at his new job the next day. It was going to be an emotionally charged scene and I had to sleep and prepare well.
“Sure thing, boss,” Len agreed as he walked off, whistling.
Wish I was that carefree, I thought a little enviously. I checked my watch.
Six pm. I felt somewhat relieved. That gave me time to get home, shower, and change and then drive to Trina’s place. I hadn’t realized how stressed I had been all day, worrying about finishing on time.
“See you?” Louis called over to me.
“See you,” I agreed.
I headed down the path toward the cars.
When I reached the hotel, I ran up the stairs, threw my door open, and jumped into the shower, knowing I only had twenty minutes to get everything done before I left.
I rinsed my skin thoroughly, glad to feel the dust and grit finally washing off my body and my hair and running into the shower drain. It got into everything, ears, eyes, lungs. I wished I could rinse it out of my lungs as easily as I was washing it off my skin.
I dressed quickly and headed out the door to Trina’s. When I reached her place, I stopped the car and leaned on the wheel, breathing heavily.
Why was I so damn nervous all the time with her? I sighed and made myself get out of the car and ring the bell with her surname on it.
“Hello?” the voice at the speaker sounded stressed. I hoped it wasn’t my presence that was making her feel so.
“Trina?” I felt my heart leap hearing her voice. “It’s me. Can you let me in?”
“Okay,” she said. I waited; half-afraid she was going to leave me out there on the top step. Then the lock clicked open.
At the door to her flat, I waited a moment. I could hear a child running down the hallway. I strained my ears, listening for conversation on the other side of the door. I knew eavesdropping was rude, but it was irresistible to do it.
“Mommy?” I heard the girl say. “Is it Uncle Tom?”
“No, sweetie,” she said. “It’s Drake.”
“Oh.” She sounded disappointed. “Mr. Stare?”
I blinked. What did that mean? At that juncture I wasn’t sure whether to be affronted or pleased – at least she’d noticed me enough to give me a special nickname.
“That’s not very nice,” Trina said.
“Neither’s staring, mommy.”
“Millie,” she sounded reproachful.
“Alright, I promise I’ll behave,” her daughter countered. “Will Uncle Tom show me around the building site?” she sounded hopefully. “The one at his work? I want to go up to the top. I bet Greer will be jealous. She’s never seen Bridgeway from so high up, I think!”
“Probably,” Trina said. “I’m sure Uncle Tom would agree to take you.”
“Will you let him? Please?”
“Okay,” she sighed. “But you’ll have to be careful, Millie.”
“Okay!”
The door opened and I found myself looking into Trina’s eyes. She blinked and I jumped back, startled.
“Drake?” she said, confused. “Why didn’t you ring?”
“I, uh, didn’t think about it,” I covered shabbily. “Where’s the button?”
She gave me an odd look. “You’re looking at it,” she said, pointing down the wall on my righthand side. “It’s that, there.”
“Oh.”
We looked at each other and I saw her mouth twist into a smile. I couldn’t help the heat that rushed through my body.
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I made it too early. Are you busy? I can wait…”
“No,” she interrupted, and her eyes held mine, fondly. “Stay. You can help me.”
“I can?” I felt my heart soar. She was asking me in? Alone? To make dinner? It seemed almost too wonderful. I swallowed, hard. I hadn’t done anything like it, not for ages.
“Well, sure,” she shrugged, still grinning. “You have to do something useful now that you’re here.�
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I smiled and she grinned. We stared at each other until I heard Amelia’s footsteps pause in the hallway and I shook myself, aware I was staring.
Maybe that’s why she called me that.
Shaking my head to clear it, aware that to any nine-year-old I must look a total idiot, I followed her inside.
“Here,” Trina said, showing me to a place near the sink. “Since you’re here you might as well make yourself useful. You can clean lettuce.”
“Okay,” I shrugged. In the doorway, I saw a flash of movement. The little girl was out there, I sensed, watching us.
“Here,” Trina passed me a packet of lettuce. “Make sure you wash right to the ends. I don’t want any gritty stuff.”
“Yes, milady.”
She pulled a face at me and I chuckled.
Opening the packet, I started washing the lettuce. Beside me, Trina was stirring sauce at the stove top. She was wearing jeans and a shirt in a sort of lemony color. She hummed to herself as she worked. It felt so natural, as if we had been living together for years. I did my best with the lettuce, rinsing it thoroughly and placing it into the proffered bowl.
At the door, I heard a giggle. I turned around and caught sight of Amelia. Grinning.
“Hey,” I said. She locked eyes with me, her own eyes huge and curious. Trina was looking through the fridge, not listening.
Amelia paused in the doorway, seeming unsure whether to enter or run away. I drew a deep breath.
“Am I doing this okay?” I asked, holding up a lettuce leaf. She stared at me, and then I saw her face crack into a big smile.
“You’re leaving them all dirty,” she said with an air of smugness. “Mommy will shout at you if you leave them like that. Here, let me show you. Watch, carefully.”
She took the lettuce leaf from me with a proprietary confidence. Scrubbed at the heel of it, holding it under running water. Then, turning the tap off, she squinted up at me.
“If you do it like that, it works better,” she advised. “But don’t use too much water. It’s precious, you know.”
I raised a brow and nodded. “Okay,” I said. “I’ll do my best.”
“Do that,” she said. It sounded exactly like a challenge.
Having given me a master class on the washing of lettuce, she seemed to decide her tasks were done for the evening. Turning to the door, she called over her shoulder.
“Can I use your hair dryer, mommy? I want to do the hairstyle Stella has.”
“Sure, sweetie,” Trina said, emerging from the fridge with half-a-dozen shallots in both hands. “Just don’t run it too long. It’ll overheat. Drake?”
“Uh huh?” I asked, turning off the tap.
“How are you for cutting tomatoes?”
I shrugged. “Okay,” I said. “I guess.”
She frowned at me, but nodded. “Great. Then cut that tomato for me, will you? I have to keep an eye on the pasta.”
I nodded and watched as she turned neatly back to the stove.
It was ten minutes later, after I’d just started wishing I could work so comfortably side-by-side always, that the phone rang.
“I’ll get it,” Trina yelled, running for the couch. Amelia appeared, hairbrush in one hand, hairclips bunching up her hair. She saw me and stared at me. I shrugged.
“Probably Tom,” I said.
She relaxed, as if deciding to trust me. She nodded. “Probably.”
We smiled at each other and I felt my heart glow.
She trusted me, at least a bit. I felt as if I had finally gotten something right.
“Tom?” Trina said, confirming our guess. We looked pleased. “You there? Okay. Hang on,I’ll let you up.”
“I’ll get it!” Amelia yelled, running to the door. She looked ecstatic and I realized again what an important role Tom must play in her life. He was more like a father than ever the man was who’d actually fathered her. Trina grinned and hung up.
“Uncle Tom, eh?” I said to her.
“Yes. He’s a popular guy around here,” Trina beamed. “I could almost be envious, just sometimes.”
I shook my head. “You’re very important to Amelia,” I said. “I barely know her and I can see that much.”
“Yes,” she nodded slowly. “I know.”
“She even looks like you,” I said.
She smiled, a strange grin. “You think so?” she asked.
“Sure,” I said. “Except for the eyes, and something about her chin. She could be you, at her age.”
“Really,” she said. It didn’t sound like a question. She held my gaze for a moment or two, and then turned swiftly away as Tom came through the door.
I frowned, then shrugged as Tom came over, clasping my hand. He looked better than he had the previous evening, less drained.
“Drake!” he said enthusiastically. “Good to see you. Work being kind to you, hey?”
“It’s trying,” I grinned.
He chuckled. “Good. Trina?” he called past me into the hallway. “Can we do anything?”
“It’s okay,” Trina said, appearing at my side in the kitchen. “Drake’s been helping.”
“He has, eh?” he chuckled. “Well, I never. Broadway stars can cut tomatoes?”
“Maybe,” Amelia’s high voice said, giggling. “But they sure don’t know about washing the lettuce.”
I stared at her.
Tom stared at her. Trina drew in a breath. Then, all at once, we all started laughing. Amelia laughed too. Her giggle soared over all of ours, filling the room.
“I agree, Amelia,” I said, grinning as she chuckled. “You taught me a very good lesson about the lettuce though, so I won’t get it wrong again.”
“Good!” she beamed at me, her cheeks flushing pink. “So, uncle Tom? Can I visit your new office building?”
Tom winced. I saw him look at Trina, who chuckled.
“I said it’d be okay, Tom. If she’s careful. No climbing up ropes.”
“Okay, mommy,” Amelia chorused. “Drake?” she looked directly at me. “Want to come?”
I looked at her. Trina stared at me. Somehow, for some reason I didn’t understand, the moment was charged with a sudden tension. It felt like that moment when I walked onto stage.
“Um, sure,” I said, sensing somehow that was the right thing to say. “I’d like to see it. Tom?”
“Hurray!” Amelia yelled.
Tom shrugged. “If you want.”
Trina was smiling at me, and in the depths of her smile I sensed that she was glad I’d agreed. It made me feel prouder than I ever would about my film or stage career.
“Great,” she said, and her voice sounded oddly thick, as if she was speaking through a tight throat.
We all went through to the table in the sitting room.
“This is good,” I said, sampling the pasta. It was something with herbs and onion and it tasted complex and subtle and good. I realized that I’d never eaten a meal she cooked.
We were only kids back then.
It wasn’t something I’d have thought at the time. Nineteen seems monstrously grown-up when you are nineteen. But, from my perspective as an adult, I could see how fragile we’d been then, and it made my heart ache for the love I’d felt: so direct, so sincere. So new.
Trina, catching my glance on her, looked sideways at me.
“Thanks,” she said.
“Trina’s a great cook,” Tom said fondly. “I always reckoned she should have done catering.”
“Tom,” Trina sighed. “Will you stop it?” She pulled a face at him, an exasperated expression.
He chuckled. “Sorry, Trina. I know you like your job.”
“Mommy is a good hairdresser,” Amelia put in staunchly, looking up from her pasta.
“I know,” Tom chuckled, ruffling her hair. “And you’re a good daughter, Amelia.”
“Thanks.”
I watched them, feeling a pang of sorrow in my heart. The girl trusted Tom absolutely – on the surface, but for her eye
s and that more solid face-shape, she could have been his daughter. They interacted like a loving father and his child. I saw Alex watching them, seeming to approve as much as I did.
Her gaze turned to me, speculative. I looked down into my supper.
“How’s the filming going?” Trina asked me.
I shrugged. “Okay,” I said.
“I’m glad you stayed with acting,” she said softly. “It’s what you always wanted after all.”
Her mouth had quirked down at the corners. She looked sad and I wondered why. I frowned and tried to think of something to cheer her up.
“My cameraman thought I was mad, when I suggested we work down a real mine shaft,” I said, grinning. “Said I’d be lucky if something didn’t cave in on us.” I shook my head, recalling his worried expression.
“It could happen, Drake,” Alex said slowly. “We do have cave-ins, sometimes. It’s worth being careful.”
I nodded. “I’ll do my best,” I said.
The conversation turned to other things, but I could see Trina getting more and more quiet. At one point she stood, clearing her throat.
“I’ll get dessert, okay?”
“Okay!” Tom chorused, cheerfully, his voice mingling with Amelia’s.
“Can I help?” I asked softly, but she didn’t hear me. Tom shrugged.
“Probably faster with two people,” he said.
I nodded decisively. I needed to talk to Trina. Alone. I followed her into the kitchen.
“Trina?” She was leaning on the cupboard, her shoulders shaking. I went over and reached out a hand. I laid it softly on her bicep and she jumped.
I let my hand fall away. She drew in a steadying breath and turned to face me.
She had been crying, I noticed. Her blue eyes were swimming, tears running down her face. Feeling a pain in my own heart, I reached into my pocket and drew out a tissue. I dabbed at a teartrack and she tensed.
She looked up at me, a strangely resolute expression on her face, as if she had suffered long enough and was just expecting more suffering. I swallowed hard. I needed to find the words that I had never said. I recalled her words. You don’t know what you’re sorry for. I still didn’t know.