Absolution (9 page)

“Hey – watch it!”

“Don’t be such a baby.”

“Some bedside manner you have there,” Callum grumbled, wincing.

Maggie handed him a beer, peering over Jane’s shoulder as she treated the cut on his cheek with antiseptic. She popped her beer open and took a mouthful before flopping down on the couch beside him.

“You’re welcome to do this yourself, you know.”

Callum frowned and pushed Jane’s hand away. “It’s fine, just leave it.”

“Suit yourself.”

Jane picked up the antiseptic bottle and medical kit and took it back to the kitchen. He stood up, and began to pace the room, taking a long swallow from his bottle. Okay, so Ally was pissed off at him. Wouldn’t be the first time. She’d get over it. In the meantime, what the hell were they going to do about Jack? He had half a mind to head over to Tom’s place right now and make sure he was packing his bags. Maybe he would anyway, on his way home.

Jane came back from the kitchen, scooping up her beer and dropping onto the couch beside Maggie.

“So,” Jane said. “Do you think he’ll stick around for a while?”

“I can’t see it.”

“No way, not after today. The truth hurts,” Callum snapped, hoping like hell he was right.

An uneasy silence filled the room.

“Can you believe him?” he demanded. “Jack? I mean, what the hell was he thinking? He just shows up here and thinks ‘I’m sorry’ will magically fix everything?”

“He came home for Tom, for the funeral,” Jane said, nursing her beer in her lap.

“Well, the funeral’s over so if he’s got any brains he’ll be out of here by morning – if he hasn’t disappeared already,” Callum said acidly.

“Don’t you want to talk to him? Find out where he’s –“

“I’m not interested in where he’s been or what he’s done. He chose to leave, no one made him go. He doesn’t get to stroll back here and try to pick up where he left off.”

Maggie frowned up at him. “I’m not saying I disagree with you, but I just think it took a lot of guts for him to show his face today. It can’t have been easy. He gets credit for that, in my book – not that it changes anything.”

“Like I said, he came for Tom’s funeral,” Callum snapped. “That’s it.”

“Yeah, I know, but he did try to talk to Ally yesterday. He didn’t have to do that.”

“And?”

“Well, I just think that if he had intended to come home, go to the funeral and then leave straight afterwards, he wouldn’t have bothered.”

“What’s your point?”

“Just that maybe he didn’t plan on coming home
just
for the funeral? Maybe he’s planning to stick around for a while?”

“Do you think so?” Jane asked, sitting forward on the couch.

Callum’s heart raced. “Maybe. Who knows?”

He sank down into the armchair and peeled at the label on his bottle nervously.

“I don’t know. If I’d gotten the reception he did today, I probably wouldn’t be hanging around for long,” Jane said quietly.

“Well, if he knows what’s good for him, he better stay the hell away from me – and Ally. She doesn’t need this shit, she’s been through enough.”

“Yeah, well you’re hardly helping the situation,” Maggie said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It’s not exactly a secret. I’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve said you’d rip his head off his shoulders if you saw him again.”

“Yeah? So?”

“No one blames you for feeling like that,” Jane said. “It’s only natural, you have every right. We’re just saying that Ally knows how you feel too, and she’s bound to be worried about how you’re gonna deal with all this.”

“I’ll tell you right now how I’m gonna deal with this, I’m gonna make damn sure he stays the hell away from her!” Callum shook his head, annoyed at the shift in focus. “So, you just leave Jack to me. It’s her we need to keep an eye on, not me.” 

He took another swig from his bottle, wishing it were something stronger than beer.

Ally made her way to the front gate and paused, staring at the unfamiliar car in the driveway.

Jack’s car.

She breathed a sigh of relief – good, he was still here. The relief was followed by a flood of uncertainty as she forced herself to continue up the path.

How many years had she been coming here? She knew this house as well as her own. It was unnerving, the thought of walking inside knowing that Tom wasn’t going to be there. Drawing herself up straight, she tried to put him out of her mind. It was Jack she was here to see. The revelation brought a torrent of renewed anxiety with it.

She paused briefly at the bottom of the few steps leading to the porch that swept across the front of the house. Slowly, she began to climb. It only took her a couple of minutes, but by the time she got to the top, all the bravado and determination she had felt in her kitchen half an hour ago had evaporated. What was she going to say? Where should she begin?

You can do this. He owes you some kind of closure. Even if he says nothing, you have things you need to say to him. Just knock on the door.

“Hi.”

She looked up to find Jack standing in the doorway. She froze. She had been lying to herself, she realised too late. She wasn’t ready for this, not by a long shot.

“Come inside,” he said, his desperate gaze holding hers. “Please?”

He had changed out of the torn shirt and jacket, and stood before her in jeans and a dark blue t-shirt. He looked very much the worse for wear, his eye swollen slightly, an angry-looking cut on his cheek.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage. She fought the impulse to turn and make her way back to the car. He moved aside and she maneuvered herself over the doorstep and into the hall. She wanted to cry. It felt wrong, like they were trespassing somehow. She wished like hell that Tom was there.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” Jack said quietly, closing the door behind her. “But thank you, for coming.”

He stood facing her, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. Had his eyes always been that shade of green? They seemed darker, heavier somehow. God, what was she doing here? 

“Ally… ”

Her hands gripped the handles of her crutches even tighter. The questions bolted out of her before she could stop them.

“Why’d you do it? Why’d you leave like that?”

The silence seemed to buzz in her ears, seconds stretching out.

“Why do you think?” he whispered, his eyes brimming with tears.

“That’s not good enough,” she shot back, tilting her chin in defiance. “I need to hear you say it – you owe me that.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Look, I… this could take a while. Come through to the living room, I’ll get us something to drink.”

She frowned, afraid of losing her resolve if she moved any further into the house. Before she could answer though, he walked into the living room and she had no choice but to follow.

She had last been here two weeks ago, for dinner. The house looked exactly the same, except for the glaringly obvious fact that Tom was missing. Her heart ached for him. If he were here, he’d be the buffer she felt they desperately needed now. Without him, it was too raw. 

Jack poured the drinks, his back to her. To his left, on the side table, was an almost-empty glass that he topped up. Clearly, it wasn’t his first drink today. She couldn’t blame him.

He turned back to her, holding a glass in each hand, indicating the couch. “Shall we sit down?”

She ignored the couch and headed for the small dining table at the end of the room instead. She wanted to put something solid between them, hoping it would help her concentrate. She could feel his eyes burning into her back as she lowered herself into a chair, leaning her crutches against the table beside her. He set the glasses down on the table and pulled out the chair opposite her. She cringed as the chair’s legs scraped against the hardwood floor. Silently begging her trembling hands not to betray her, she reached for her glass and took a quick sip.

Tom had been the one to teach her about whisky – the good, the bad, the difference between blended and single malts, when to have water with it and when to have it neat.

“What do you remember about the accident?” Jack asked quietly, dragging her back to the present.

A black void where her memories should be.

She stared into the glass she held with both hands on the table in front of her. “Nothing. I don’t remember a thing. Callum told me what happened, after.”

“What did he say?”

“That it wasn’t your fault.” Why did she sound so frightened? She cleared her throat, mustering up the courage to look across the table at him. “He said there was nothing you could have done, that the other car came out of nowhere.”

He nodded slightly, his expression guarded. She waited for him to elaborate but he didn’t. She seized her chance, before she lost her nerve completely.

“I want to know why you left like that, if it wasn’t your fault. Was it because of what happened to me?”

He shook his head and she tried to distance herself from his obvious pain. She couldn’t afford empathy if she was to get through this. She needed answers.

“Was it? You were gone when I woke up from surgery, Jack. You knew what happened to me. Did you leave because of that, because you didn’t want to be with me? I want the truth. I can take it,” she lied.

He shook his head, swallowing back tears. “No.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not, I – “

“You’re lying!” she cried, anger bursting forth.

“No! I’m not lying, I swear to you,” he insisted desperately, leaning forward. “I left because of me, because of what I did!”

“What the hell does that mean?”

He looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Something was going on behind his eyes that she couldn’t read and she frowned, searching deeper.

“I was driving. It was my fault.”

“So you left because you felt guilty?”

“I left because I was scared.”

“I was scared too – I woke up and you were gone!”

Breaking it down like that, so simply, hurt much more than she expected. All the things she couldn’t say – the fear that had overwhelmed her and pulled her under and nearly destroyed her – manifested as tears, overflowing and running down her cheeks.

“I’m so sorry,” he said brokenly, staring at his hands on the table. “I thought you’d hate me… I thought you’d all hate me.”

“So you just decided to run away instead?”

He didn’t answer, and anger and betrayal overwhelmed her as his face blurred.

“I wish I could take it all back – I wish I could change everything,” he whispered.

“You can’t.”

“I know. I’m so sorry. I should’ve stayed, I should’ve – “

“I’m not interested in hearing about what you should’ve done,” she snapped. “I know what you should’ve done, but you didn’t, did you?”

Jack looked devastated but she couldn’t help the words that came tumbling out.

“I lay in that hospital bed, counting the holes in the ceiling tiles, thinking about all the things that I would never be able to do again, and I kept thinking that if you were there, it would be okay – that you being there would mean that everything was going to be okay. But you weren’t.” She steadily held his gaze, binding him to her as surely as if she had used ropes or chains. “I hated you for that. I hated you for leaving, I hated you for not even saying goodbye – for not having the guts to talk to me before you left, for being such a coward.”

Tears spilled down his cheeks, but she wasn’t finished.

“Why didn’t you call? Or write or email – why didn’t you at least try? Did you even think about me at all?”

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he whispered, chin quivering.

It was on the tip of her tongue to call him a liar again, but something was wrong. He stared at her, and for an instant, she saw through the mask. Buried so deep it was barely visible, was the truth, and when she saw it, it took her breath away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant for any of this to happen. I was weak and I was wrong and I’m so sorry.”