Absolution (17 page)

"No," he whispered. “He didn’t.”

Callum huffed out a breath, shaking his head in disbelief.

“It wasn’t his fault. I told him not to.”

“So you just walked away and didn’t want to know anymore, is that it? Fresh slate? Never gave us a second thought?”

Jack tried to think of words that would explain what the last four years had been like but everything sounded trite by comparison. It didn’t matter what he had been through, only what he had put everyone else through by leaving. “It wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like?”

“I’m not going to make excuses for what I did. There’s nothing I can say that’s gonna make it sound noble or justified. But I didn’t just walk away and forget about you all either, trust me.”

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” Callum asked abruptly.

“I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. Leaving here that night isn’t exactly the end of that list.”

“Jesus,” Callum huffed. “Would a straight answer kill you?”

“I hung out in some shitty bars. I hung out with some shittier people.” 

“That’s it? That’s all you got?”

“For now, yeah.”

He prayed that Callum would leave it at that. He didn’t want to have to lie to him but he wasn’t ready to share the truth yet, either. Jack cleared his throat and glanced out of the windshield again. The guys he had seen at the pool table were coming out of Barney’s together, laughing as they made their way down the street. Jealousy pulled at his gut.

“That used to be us, once upon a time,” he mumbled.

Callum followed his gaze. “Feels like a hundred years ago.”

Silence buzzed around them again.

“Do you love her?”

“What?” Jack glanced at him sharply.

“You heard me.”

After a moment, Jack nodded.

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“Doesn’t matter. Even if she doesn’t love me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“What if she’s with someone else?”

“Is she with someone else?”

Callum regarded him sombrely for a moment before finally shaking his head. “No. But what if she was?”

“Then I’d deal with it. It wouldn’t make me take off again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“First you tell me I’m not convincing anyone, now you say I’m too cocky?” Jack snapped. “Make up your damn mind.”

Callum regarded him critically. “So what now?”

"I don't know. One day at a time, I guess."

Callum nodded, stony-faced.

“I can see how close you two are and I’m glad she had you in her corner. I just want you to know that I’m grateful that you were there for her.”

Jack tried to force the heartache behind the words into the background. It didn’t matter how much it hurt him to say it, it was the truth.

“I did it for her, not for you.”

“I know.”

“Tom should’ve gotten this speech, too.”

A knife twisted in his gut. “I know he should’ve.”

He thought of his father and all the things he never got to say. He saw himself sitting in his car outside the cemetery gates earlier, afraid to go in.

“I think we’re done here,” Callum said, jolting Jack out of his guilt-trip.

“Yeah,” he murmured, fumbling with the door handle. “I should go. I guess I’ll see you around.”

“I guess so.”

Jack climbed out of the car, bone-weary suddenly. He watched Callum’s car disappear down the misty street until all that were left were red tail-lights, shining like devil’s eyes in the dark. He stared down at his bruised knuckles and flexed his fist a few times, remembering Andy McLeish’s words and the anger that had sprung up from deep inside when he heard them. Glancing over at Barney’s, the neon sign glowing in the eerie mist, he couldn’t help but think of simpler times.

It’s just a drink - it’s not a date.

It had been like a mantra all day. It was Jack’s suggestion that they meet for a drink. Ally had agreed, but as the day wore on, she was starting to think she wasn’t ready for this. It was too soon – and it was Barney’s, on a weekend. She hadn’t been to Barney’s on a weekend in over a year. Last time had been a disaster. A crowded bar was no place for someone with her mobility issues.

She had been knocked over. In front of a room full of people. It was mortifying.

Yet here she was, agreeing to go back there, with him? She needed her head read.

You’re in control, remember? You can do this.

Fighting against the nerves, she turned to take stock of herself in the full-length mirror. She wore her favourite jeans and a simple long-sleeved black cashmere top. The look she was going for was understated. How she felt was under-prepared.

She hadn’t been out with Jack in public since he had come home and she suddenly felt vulnerable, remembering what happened in the diner with Maggie. The whispering, the gossiping – was Jack ready for that? Was she? Frowning, she slipped one arm out of the cuff of her crutch and pulled an earring free from her hair.

A knock on the door sent her pounding heart into overdrive. She was starting to wish she hadn’t sent Maggie away, but the nerves were starting to get to her and she needed to deal with them alone.

“I’m just a phone call away,” Maggie had said.

And she was. Which might be a good thing, depending on what happened tonight.

“I’m coming!” she called, retrieving her jacket from the bed and slipping it on. She made her way to the front door, pausing to take a deep breath before opening it. Jack stood on her porch wearing his leather jacket, a khaki shirt and jeans. He looked as nervous as she felt and it was strangely comforting.

“Hi,” he smiled shyly.

All the trepidation from a few minutes ago melted away and for a brief moment in time, the last four years seemed to fade into the background.

In spite of herself, she smiled back.

“
Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls; the most massive characters are seared with scars.
”

- Khalil Gibran

Jack was amazed at how busy Barney’s was for a Friday night. The only park they could find was down a side-street. He worried that it was too far away from the bar, but Ally insisted it was fine. By the time he got out of the car and walked around to open her door, she was already lifting her legs out of the car. Her crutches leant against the inside of the door. In his haste to help, he pulled the door wider for her, sending them crashing to the ground.

“Shit – I’m sorry,” he mumbled, hastily gathering them up and handing them to her.

“Don’t worry about it. They’re pretty tough, they can take it.”

She didn’t seem fazed, but he felt like an idiot just the same. He retreated to a safe distance, holding the door as she leaned the crutches against them again, moving herself forward and preparing to stand. She locked her braces through her jeans, using the car door and the back of her seat to hoist herself upright. Shuffling until she got her balance, she reached for her crutches, sliding her arms into the cuffs. Despite the intense concentration on her face, she didn’t even break a sweat. Once again, he found himself with a deep admiration for her.

He fell in step with her as they made their way up the sidewalk towards the corner. It was a far cry from the way they used to walk together. He pushed his hands deep into his pockets to avoid reaching out for her hand.

Barney’s was noisy, crowded and fairly well-lit. A loud group of revelers jostled them as they made their way through the door and into the bar. He grabbed Ally’s arm automatically, stepping in closer to her. This was exactly the opposite of what he expected and his heart sank.

“Sorry,” he said, raising his voice to be heard above the general din. “I had no idea it was gonna be like this.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Ally smiled tightly. “Let’s see if we can find a table.”

“I was here the other night and it was pretty much dead. Is it always like this on a Friday?” he asked, leaning closer to her in order to be heard.

“I guess so. I haven’t been here on a Friday night in a long time, too crowded for me.”

Jack took her arm again, careful not to interfere with her balance. “You should have said something. We could have gone somewhere else instead.”

“There really isn’t anywhere else these days, that’s the problem. Harry kind of has the monopoly.”

“Just between you and me, I’d have happily stayed home and had a drink there,” he admitted, wishing they had.

“We’re here now, I guess we might as well make the best of it,” she said, inclining her head towards the rear of the room. “Hey, look – I think that booth is clearing out up the back. Maybe we can grab that?”

He followed her gaze. “Looks like a good bet.”

He kept his eye on the group of people who were exiting the booth, deep in conversation over the music blaring out from the jukebox. Ally began navigating slowly across the room towards them and he fell in behind her, watching nervously. She seemed confident enough, but it wasn’t her he worried about, it was everyone else. Half the bar was intoxicated, and as a result, completely self-absorbed. As if to illustrate his fears, she narrowly avoided being knocked over by a drunken patron who slurred an apology as he eyed her up with open curiosity. With one eye on the table and one on Ally, he made a quick judgment call, recklessly abandoning chivalry to walk ahead of her. With one arm held out protectively towards her, they moved slowly through the crowd towards the corner.

They finally got to the booth as the last of the table-stragglers was leaving. He waited while she eased herself in, sliding in opposite her. She quickly stowed her crutches beneath the table and away from the masses, and then it was just the two of them, smiling nervously at each other over the table.

“That wasn’t so bad,” he quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

Her smile became more genuine. “Thanks for your help.”

Trepidation melted away a little.

“You’re welcome. Right,” he stood up again and dug out his wallet from the depths of his pocket. “First things first: beer. I’ll be right back.”

He fought his way through the crowd to the bar and waited impatiently to be served. He glanced back at her a few times, but she seemed engrossed in people-watching. Someone jostled him, apologising loudly. He brushed it off, moving closer to the bar.

“Jack!”

The throngs of people around that end of the bar seemed to hush and he turned around slowly, holding his breath.

“I thought that was you. Heard you were back in town.”

Brown eyes narrowed slightly as a guy he went to school with made his way through the crowd towards him.

“Dave.” He greeted him formally, offering his hand. They had never been particularly close and he was wary now. It couldn’t hurt to be polite. “It’s been a long time.”

Dave reached out to shake it. “Sorry to hear about your Dad.”

“Thanks.”

With a nod of his head, Dave indicated the booth where Ally sat. “Never thought I’d see the day you two were back in here, together. Almost like old times huh?”

Jack nodded, uncomfortable with the comparison. “I guess so.”

“So, what the hell happened to you? We thought you were dead, you just dropped off the face of the earth.”

Jack smiled tightly. Polite conversation was one thing, but the answers to questions like this weren’t something he could just whip out of thin air in the middle of a crowded bar. “Yeah. I guess it might’ve seemed that way.”

He kept an eye on the bar behind him, searching for an excuse to order their drinks and escape the scrutiny.

“It did seem that way,” Dave insisted, his gaze leveling uncomfortably on him. “I can’t believe she’s even giving you the time of day after you disappeared like that. If it were me, I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but none of this is any of your business, is it?” Jack silently dared him to say more. He pushed his wallet back into his pocket, preparing to defend himself physically, if it came to that.

“Dave!” Harry barked from behind the bar. “Back off. I don’t want any trouble in here tonight – I’m getting too old for this shit. Jack, what are you having?”

“Beer,” Jack answered, never taking his eyes off Dave. “Two.”

Dave glanced back at Harry, stony-faced. “Fair enough. I’m not looking for any trouble. Just had to say my two cents worth.”

“Well, you’ve said it. Now go bother someone else,” Harry grumbled, pulling out two beers and popping the tops off them as he shot Dave a withering frown.

“I’m only saying what everyone else is thinking,” Dave insisted.

Jack kept an eye on him as he dug into his pocket again and withdrew his wallet, trying desperately to stop his hands from trembling. Adrenaline coursed through his system as he handed cash over the bar and took the bottles from Harry.

“Thanks,” he mumbled.

Harry leaned over the bar and pushed the cash back in Jack’s direction. “Put your money away, first beer’s on the house. Callum told me what you did to McLeish. Welcome home.”

Jack nodded, bewildered. He indicated the beers as he slipped the cash back into his pocket. “Thanks.”

Harry moved on to take the next order and Jack turned to find Dave had vanished. Making his way back through the crowd to Ally, he set the beers down on the table between them.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Why?”

“I saw you talking to Dave.”

He took a sip of beer and tried to shrug off the whole experience. “He was telling me how sorry he was to hear about Dad.”

“Was that all?” she asked. “I saw your face. It didn’t look like he was just passing on his condolences.”

Jack smiled tightly. “You know Dave. He never knows when to keep his mouth shut.”

Ally looked down at the beer bottle in front of her and dragged it closer, picking at the label absentmindedly.

“Hey,” he leaned forward. “It’s fine – don’t worry. I won’t self-combust if someone looks at me sideways.”

She glanced up, concern furrowing her brow as her eyes flitted over the healing cuts and bruises on his face. “It’s not the fact that they’re looking at you sideways that bothers me.”

He shrugged casually, trying to set her mind at ease.

“You’re acting like you’re not surprised by any of this,” she said.

“I’m not. Why would I be? I’m the villain here. I deserve it.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”

“Say what?”

“You’re not a villain, you’re a human being. You made a mistake, that’s all.  You’re not the only one who’s ever made a mistake. The important thing is that you’re here now, and you’re trying to make up for it. What you deserve is a break – from Dave, from Callum, and from yourself.”

He gripped the beer bottle in his hand so tightly, he thought he might crush it.

“Point taken,” he said, taking a quick sip to hide his discomfort.

He stared out over the crowded bar. Did she have any idea what she was asking him to do? She made it sound easy, like forgiving himself was just a check-box on a shopping list. Make a mistake: check. Get over it: check.

Ally placed her hand over his. “Stop beating yourself up,” she said, loud enough that he could hear above the noise. “Everyone makes mistakes. The key is learning what not to do next time, then moving on. You can’t wallow. It’ll kill you – trust me, I know.”

“I wish it was that simple,” he said, before he had time to engage his brain.

“It is. You just have to try harder.”

She released his hand and picked up her beer as a million questions raced around inside his head.

“A toast,” she said, raising her bottle before he could ask any of them. “To Tom.”

“To Dad,” he agreed sombrely, lifting his bottle to gently clink it against hers.

They both took a sip and his peripheral vision seemed to return in a rush. The music seemed louder, he could make out snippets of conversations going on around them and he almost felt like he was trapped in some kind of time warp. Sitting across from her like this, it was as if the last four years had never happened. He smiled over at her, determined to live in the moment.

Three Years Earlier

Ally sat on the floor of her studio, surrounded by tubes of paint, dirty brushes and cloths and a finished canvas. The hollow eyes in the painting stared back at her. She felt a chill work its way up her spine, from the point of injury, where sensation below ceased, right up to the base of her skull.

I can’t do this.

The phrase echoed in her head relentlessly.

I can’t do this. I can’t do this. I can’t do this.

The canvas blurred in front of her and she blinked, hurriedly stemming the flow of tears while she still could.

The twelve-month check-up with her neurologist had arrived like a storm-front, dark and foreboding. Now that it was over, she just felt empty. The hope she had been hanging onto, and the fear she had been desperately trying to keep at bay, had simultaneously deserted her and slammed into her, leaving her reeling.