Relatively Honest (21 page)

I thought of myself a year ago, ready to leave for America, partly terrified, partly restless to embrace a whole continent of adventures. I had been so cavalier, so certain everything would be beautiful and thrilling – and it was, for a while. Despite all the doubt and stress and insanity, I had snared a thousand delicious moments. If only I could go back, take over my life a year ago, knowing what was going to happen, I would…I would what?

Westminster station slid to a halt outside the train doors. I stepped off, climbed the steps, and emerged in the rain. I pulled my coat tighter around myself.

I would live it all over again. I knew I would. I would keep it all the same, except I would tell her the truth sooner and show her we needn’t be ashamed, and stay with her even if it all fell apart around us.

Deep shadows loomed in the carvings on Westminster Abbey. Rain darkened its points and arches. I grasped the wet iron fence and gazed at the monument of 900 years’ work, and wondered how forty days of silence could feel so long and so agonizing.

Big Ben, down the street, chimed two separate times, so I must have stood there over a quarter of an hour. I know that after the second chime, my breath caught in my throat, and the Abbey blurred in my gaze.
I want you back. Why won’t you answer me? Why won’t you write?
Two warm drops ran down among the rain on my face, and slipped between my lips. I tasted lukewarm saltiness. People kept walking by; cars and taxis and buses splashed past in the road. I doubted anyone would notice if I walked down to Westminster Bridge and jumped right over the side.

“Daniel?”

I looked, and gasped. I actually stepped backward, away from her. “Jules?”

Her hair was red, the way it got when wet. Raindrops clung to it, and to her black overcoat, which she hugged around herself. She stepped up and looked into my face. Her eyebrows dove downward in a frown. “Are you wearing makeup?”

I was gripping the Abbey fence with one hand to hold myself up. A laugh tumbled out of my mouth. “Yeah, it’s Sinter’s. Um, what are you doing here?”

She stood up taller, prouder. “You summoned me. So I came.”

“But, your parents –”

“Patrick was right about one thing, and one thing only. I am a grownup and need to go my own way. Besides…” She shook a damp lock of hair out of her face, and looked at me more humbly. “I couldn’t get over you, either. I explained it to my dad last week, after you wrote. He’s not thrilled, but he’ll accept it. Mom’s working on him, I think.”

“Really?” I was shaking. “You’re here, you’ve come back, you’re…”

Julie put her hand on my wet coat. “Yours,” she said. She took my hand, and kissed my palm. “Mine.”

I seized her and held her as close as I could. We babbled nonsense, and kissed with rain-wet lips, and laughed like maniacs. Someone whistled at us from a car, which just made us laugh more.

“How’d you get here?” I asked, when the rush had subsided and washed up some common sense in the flotsam.

“I flew, stupid.” She nestled under my chin.

“I mean
here
– to Westminster.”

“Oh. Sinter brought me.” She turned in my arms, and for the first time I noticed Sinter leaning on the fence, a tactful distance away. He waved.

“Oy!” I shouted. “Can’t thank you enough, mate.”

“Any excuse to visit the Abbey,” he called back.

“My plane got in an hour ago,” she said. “I took a cab to your flat, and Sinter was just getting back from work. He told me where you were, and brought me here on the Tube.”

“Ah.” We walked down the pavement, toward Sinter. “By the way, my email actually stated that I would fly back to
you
. I never said you had to spring for a ticket to London. You could have just answered, you know.”

“And pass up a vacation in England? You know I’ve been dying to visit here.”

I squeezed her. “Oddly, just before you walked up, I was wishing you were here with all my heart.” My voice got quieter. I felt ridiculously shy and happy. “I’ve wished it every day since I left.”

She stopped walking and leaned up to kiss me. It detained us for more than a few seconds. Sinter waited courteously.

She pulled back. “By the way, what’s this big important thing you wanted to tell me? I called my voicemail when I got to Heathrow, and heard your message. I figured I’d see you soon enough and ask you in person.”

I laughed. “Oh, yes. Nearly a moot point since you came back anyway, but one I think you’re going to like.” I included Sinter in my smile. I hadn’t seen him all day, and thus hadn’t told him Nanny’s revelation. “Let’s all sit down somewhere, and I’ll explain.” I glanced at Julie, tucked beneath my arm. “Are you tired? You must be tired. Do you want to go back to the flat, or get a bite to eat? Or what exactly?”

“I don’t care. Anything. I’m not very tired. Show me the city.”

“All right. Sinter, where should we go?”

“The view from the bridge is nice.” He swept his arm to gesture down the road. “After you, my lady.”

She stopped to kiss him on the cheek, then wrapped her arms around me again, and we set off down the street in the rain.

THE END

About The Author

Molly Ringle has been writing fiction for over 20 years, and her stories always include love and humor, as well as the occasional touch of tragedy and/or the paranormal. Her book The Ghost Downstairs, a 2010 EPIC Award finalist for paranormal romance. She is also the author of
Summer Term, Of Ghosts and Geeks
and
What Scotland Taught Me
.

Molly lives in Seattle with her husband and kids, and worships fragrances and chocolate.

www.mollyringle.com.

Acknowledgments

Special thanks to the many people who helped this story along over the years. In particular:

Matilda Filch and Ali Masterson for the Britpicking; Marie Anderson, Jennifer Pennington, and several other LiveJournalers (with handles like narfistic, grantmepeace, bitter_female, m_nivalis, _illumina_, 3whysman, handsoapisgood, and theycallmekelsi) for beta-reading and cheering me on; Michelle Halket and Meghan Tobin-O’Drowsky for taking on this story and doing wonderful edits; my younger sister Peggy for cheerfully reading the mediocre early drafts; and, as ever, my husband Steve and my kids for patiently enduring my enthusiasm for imaginary people.

Other Books By ireadiwrite Publishing

WHAT SCOTLAND TAUGHT ME

Molly Ringle

Fresh out of high school, Eva Sonneborn is headed to Scotland with her best friends: scholarly, sarcastic Laurence; gorgeous, ghost-seeing Amber; and responsible, sweet Shannon. They plan to spend the next six months in Edinburgh, enjoying an adventure-filled work-abroad journey before parting ways for college.

But when Eva meets Gil, a local bartender, she figures a little innocent flirting won’t hurt her relationship with Tony, her ever-faithful boyfriend back home. But just when things turn less innocent with Gil, the trip starts throwing curveballs at not only her but her friends too. By the end of the trip, they’ve all fallen in love, sometimes with the wrong people - and with consequences that may tear their friendship apart forever...

AMBER FROST

Suzi Davis

Grace Lynn Stevenson is an eighteen year old girl who recently moved with her wealthy, but busy parents to a new city. She’s popular, pretty and rich - what more could a girl want? But deep down, she’s sad, lonely and plagued by nightmares. When she meets Sebastian Caldwood at her new private school, she’s inexplicably drawn to him and his strange tattoos. Sebastian always gets what he wants - he simply has to wish it; but he’s fighting his own inner demons, and struggling to remember a past that eludes him. When he remembers that he is much older than he looks, he realizes that he’s seen many people live and die, including Grace.

Once Sebastian realizes his true nature and finds what he has been searching for the past hundreds of years, he also realizes that it is now up to him to protect Grace from the dangers that have plagued them throughout eternity.

LILY: A NOVEL

LM DeWalt

Lily is a lonely vampire desperate for love and a normal existence. When she finally finds someone she can love and a group of vampires she can call family, her long lost maker comes back to claim her. To save the ones she loves, Lily must face, and possibly destroy, the one who stole her choices and her very life.