The Charm Bracelet (30 page)

But very quickly she realised that it wasn’t an animal but a package.

A tiny box wrapped in lilac paper with a little purple bow on it.

Picking it up, she studied the gift and found a little tag with her name written on it.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, wondering how long it had been there. Since Christmas Day obviously.

Smiling at the familiar lilac packaging, she carefully untied the bow and opened the box, an action that was by now almost ritualistic.

Inside was silver charm in the shape of a fir tree with a tiny diamond chip in the middle of the star. She turned it over; on the back was inscribed
Holly’s 1
st
Christmas.

She felt a tear slide down her cheek, warm and inviting.

Another little gift of love and hope.

Wiping her face, Holly unclasped her charm bracelet and attached the tree in the best available space – the hourglass, the first charm she’d received all those years ago on one side, and on the other, a little charm in the shape of a dove.

Fitting really, Holly smiled, thinking back to the particular day she’d received that one.

[A head]
11 September 2001

Holly opened her eyes and yawned widely. Stretching out her arms and legs, she turned and faced the window, where bright sunlight was already peeking through the slats of her blinds.

She looked at the clock and smiled: 7.30 a.m. Just enough time to get ready for work and grab a decaf green tea at Starbucks on the way to work.

It was then that Holly realised that someone else was awake too. A determined kick came from inside her ever-growing tummy. There was no denying it, her baby was definitely healthy, but she was worried that with each passing day she resembled an elephant more than a woman. She wondered how big she would be when she reached the full nine months.

‘OK, little man, I know you’re awake, just hold on a minute and let your poor mother get her bearings.’

She put her feet on the ground and stood up, her protruding abdomen stretching out in front of her. She had to admit, pregnancy had been an experience. Not that anything bad had happened, it was more that she felt constantly in awe of what was taking place in her body, and she couldn’t believe that soon she would have a son to call her own.

Some of her friends had been perplexed by her decision to find out the baby’s gender beforehand, arguing that it took all the surprise out of the main event. But Holly insisted that, even though she knew that much, she would be surprised just the same. After all, how many times did you get to meet face-to-face a person that you had a hand in creating? The wonder and magic of that thought alone was enough to get Holly through until the day her child was born.

And she had to admit that she was happy she was having a boy, she thought, going into the bathroom to freshen up. She hadn’t talked to Nick in months; the last time had been when she had officially moved the rest of her things out of his place, and she had no intention of doing so anytime in the future. After all, what was the point? He’d made it clear he wanted no part of this baby. And that was fine by Holly. Her child would be hers alone, and she was dedicated to the idea of making him into a man who was strong, considerate and courageous – instead of a materialistic commitment-phobe who only thought of himself.

Holly smiled at the notion as she came out of the bathroom and lumbered to her closet to search for something to wear. It was still ridiculously hot in the city and while she appreciated summer stretching into September, she would be happy when she was able to breathe a bit easier when she was walking around on the hot concrete of
Manhattan. She hated being covered in sweat by the time she got to work at nine a.m.

‘So the sundress it is again,’ Holly said as she stepped into a light summer outfit that had served her well this past season. While she had stocked up on maternity clothes as her bump grew ever bigger, the one indulgence she resisted was buying her beloved vintage. After all, no point in spending all that money on clothes that would definitely not be required for very long. She did have the financial future of a baby and herself to think about, so best to be wise in her decisions.

She stepped into a pair of sandals and wiggled her toes. Yes, much easier than heels.

Holly grabbed her handbag and put some earrings on. Her charm bracelet jingled as she put it on and deemed herself ready to go.

Moments later, she was on the streets of Manhattan.

Darting into a Starbucks on
Church Street, she was happy to find that the line wasn’t that long, allowing her to stay on schedule. She smiled contentedly and took her place at the back.

Seeing many regulars, several of whom greeted her and asked how she was feeling, she felt peaceful. Anyone who ever said New Yorkers were rude, loud or self-involved had obviously never lived here. Holly believed that many of her neighbours and the people she regularly saw out and about around the neighbourhood were some of the nicest and kindest in the world.

‘Here’s your green tea, ma’am,’ the barista smiled. Throwing a dollar in the tip jar, Holly thanked her and waved goodbye.

She glanced at her watch as she started walking up
Church Street headed towards Greenwich Village. She was ahead of schedule, for once, and she felt quite proud of herself. So many women had told her that they seemed to become flaky and all over the place when they were pregnant. But not Holly – if anything, she had become more organised.

The baby gave her another sharp kick as she finished this thought and she patted her tummy and took a small sip of tea.

‘Yikes!’ It was red-hot, and Holly stopped for a moment and rubbed her lip. ‘Damn, I should remember to ask them to put some ice cubes in next … ’

But she didn’t finish that thought.

Overhead a deafening roar reverberated off the buildings around her. Holly put a free hand to one of her ears as she looked up and saw a low-flying plane, no not a plane, a
jet
, burning a path through the sky above her.

Mouth agape at how close to the ground it seemed to be flying, she followed its trail as it surged forwards overhead. Holly took a fleeting glance at others on the street who were looking upwards in synch with her, watching the plane as it flew towards
Lower Manhattan.

It was then that her heart started to race. She dropped her tea on the ground and jumped as the hot water splashed her bare legs, but even still she couldn’t take her eyes off what was unfolding in front of her, above her.

Holly walked a few paces in the opposite direction to where she was supposed to be headed, but she couldn’t help it. There were throngs of people standing around, watching and engaging in speculation about what was going on. While she knew that standing here gawking was akin to chasing ambulances, she couldn’t help it.

She put her hands over her abdomen as the baby gave what seemed to be a vicious kick and she doubled over.

The woman next to her took note of Holly, clearly distressed and very pregnant.

‘Honey, are you OK? Can I call your husband, or a boyfriend? Can I do anything for you?’

Holly crumpled to her knees. At the lack of an answer, the woman looked around, seemingly trying to catch the attention of anyone, even though all eyes were turned to the skies.

‘Somebody help! I think this woman is in labour!’

Holly hadn’t been in labour. But her heart was broken.

As the day developed, she saw the world that she had known change drastically. Even after she had convinced the kindly woman on the street that she wasn’t in labour, the woman had understood that she was still in danger, especially as she had stood, frozen in place, unable to move.

It was only when another nameless New Yorker grabbed them both and propelled them away from the oncoming onslaught of dust and debris that Holly had willed her feet to move. They’d rushed to the Starbucks she had been in just minutes before, looking for a sanctuary from the hellish cloud that threatened to consume them.

And it was in that Starbucks that Holly sat on the floor, her back propped against a wall, studying the faces around her and the TV screen in the corner.
It was all so surreal. A frightening realisation struck her as the news bulletins and terrifying headlines flooded in all around them. Her child would never know the safe and secure world that she had grown up in, the one that she had lived in up until this day. That world was in the rear-view mirror and Holly knew that she would never be the same.

Even when the grey ash on the street outside settled, she felt hesitant to leave. But she also knew that she had to get home, and walking was the only way she was going to get there. Her phone had stopped working hours ago; so right then she was effectively invisible. She needed to call her boss and she needed to call
Kate. Justin worked in Cantor Fitzgerald. Please God let him have got out before …Holly put a protective hand over her tummy and heard her charm bracelet jingle reassuringly. Moving into the street, she felt particles of dust, the remnants of destruction, falling onto her head and shoulders, and she put her head down to shield her vision. This was not her New York; this was a nightmare. Where had the beauty and wonder gone? And would it ever come back?

Wearily climbing the steps to her apartment, Holly felt as if she had lived four lifetimes since she’d woken up on what had been a cheery, sunshine-filled September morning. She put her key in the door and turned it hesitantly, for a moment wondering if she would find her home suddenly altered from the way she had left it as well.

But when she opened the door, she found her apartment exactly the same as it had been when she’d left it that morning – although by then it seemed like a lifetime ago. The blue baby clothes that she had been folding on her small coffee table the night before were still in their pile. The plate from her English muffin that morning was still in the sink. Her bed was still unmade.

She didn’t know how long she had stayed there in her doorway, but finally she noticed the blinking messages on her answering machine.

Crossing the small living room, she pressed play.

There had been numerous calls. All from friends and loved ones who were worried about Holly and the baby. Even Nick had called, and Holly felt relieved to hear from him. Right now was not the time to hold grudges.

Her throat closed over, though when she heard Kate’s frantic and tearful tones. ‘Holly, have you heard from Justin? Please say you have, I can’t reach him and… I just don’
t know what to do!’

Holly
immediately phoned her back but just got the answerphone. She hoped against hope that her friend hadn’t tried to go down there - it was no place for anyone. Yet, how could Kate not, when Justin could be caught up it all? Crying silently for her friends, Holly sank onto the nearest chair.

Having tried Kate a number of times – still to no avail - she
worked to return the other calls, and made promise after promise that she would stay safe. The only other person she couldn’t reach was Eileen. Feeling worried, but by now emotionally exhausted, she dragged herself in to the shower to try and remove the remains of the day from her skin and hair.

And she tossed the sundress that she had been wearing in the trash. She never wanted to see that dress again.

Emerging in a robe, Holly saw the sun setting outside her window. This horrible day was ending. She picked up the phone to again call Kate and then her mother

No answer
from either of them.

The following morning dawned in Holly’s apartment and as she opened her eyes, she wondered if the previous day had been a dream, a
horrible nightmare that just couldn’t be real. When she looked out her window and saw the dust still in the air, she realised it was not and her heart sank. She sat back on her bed and cradled her stomach, unsure what to do or think.

A
knock at her door made her break from her reverie. When she peered through her peephole, she couldn’t believe it. It was Eileen.

Flinging open the door, no words were said between the two women as they threw their arms around each other.

‘How did you get here, Mom?’ Holly cried, tears spilling from her eyes. ‘The bridges … I thought the roads were closed?’

Eileen smiled. ‘Oh honey, I walked. I had to get to you. I didn’t care that the subways weren’t running, I didn’t care that they weren’t allowing traffic. I walked.’

Holly burst into tears again.

‘Ssh pet, everything’s OK. Are you all right?’ she asked, looking down.

Holly sniffed and followed her gaze. ‘We both are. But Mom … what happened yesterday … everything is changed. Nothing will ever be the same. This poor baby, what sort of world will it be for him? He’ll never know … he’ll never know the world that I knew, the happiness and carefree sense that—’

‘Holly, listen to me.’ Eileen took her daughter’s tear-stained face in her hands. ‘That’s not true. The world is still magical, there is still
hope
. Your baby, my grandchild, will still have every opportunity to wonder and explore the world, but he will only have that if the wonder and joy in your heart isn’t lost. OK? The world you create for your son depends entirely on
you
.’

Holly felt more tears escape from her eyes and her vision blurred, but not before she noticed the small box in her mother’s hands. It was a box she recognised all too well.

‘Mom … what’s that?’ she asked, sniffing.

Eileen looked down at the box and handed it to her daughter with a small smile.

‘I have had this for a bit, and I was planning to send it to you when the baby was born, but I thought that now might be a better time. I usually like to surprise you as I’m sure you know … ’

Holly looked at her, shocked. ‘The other charms? Those were you too?’ she questioned.

Eileen gave a small nod.

She reached for her bracelet and handled it delicately. ‘But how? I mean, these can’t be from you, I always thought that they were from … ’

A knowing smile graced Eileen’s face. ‘I know who you thought they were from, and I know you enjoyed the fantasy, even though you never said it out loud.’

Holly blushed. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry, I feel so stupid now.’

‘Why feel like that? Of course there’s something magical about the idea of someone, a fairy godmother looking out for you. And I also know there’s a lot of unknowns about your birth mom in your mind, and that’s perfectly normal.’

Holly looked away, embarrassed at her mother’s perception. Once the thought had entered her mind that time back in college – that it might be her real mother who was looking out for her – it had been difficult to shake. She was young and highly imaginative, and there was no denying that it was a comforting notion, especially when she was still missing her father and her relationship with Eileen was still suffering the after-effects of being told the truth.

Eileen took her hands. ‘I know the truth about your birth was still all very fresh in your mind when your dad died and you’d been through a lot. I could see you start to slip away from me, when I knew you needed me more than ever. We needed each other. That’s why I started sending the charms, and I continued to send them because I knew you enjoyed the intrigue and mystery.’ She smiled. ‘To be honest, I enjoyed picking them out and trying to second-guess your reaction.’ Eileen squeezed her daughter’s hand. ‘I’m only coming to you with the truth now, because … well, at a time like this, I wanted to make sure you knew that there is someone who loves you very much, and who is always looking out for you. Someone who would walk for hours and miles to get to you. Me.’

Holly collapsed in a new round of sobbing and found solace in her mother’s arms. She buried her face into her neck and felt, once again, as if she was about five years old. Eileen stroked her head and soothed her crying daughter.

‘You’re like Santa,’ Holly finally got out.

‘I know. I thought you’d just decided not to try and find out where they were coming from, so that they wouldn't stop coming,’ Eileen chuckled.

That had been the rule when she was a child, the moment you stopped believing in Santa, he stopped coming. Holly had held out until she was eleven, finally letting it slip that she had seen her dad eating the same kind of chocolates that appeared in her stocking.

‘I’m sorry,
it was so horrible for you to find out the truth the way you did. I was so angry at myself for blurting it out like that. Then, when your dad passed so soon after, it felt like you and I were growing further and further apart.’

‘It was heat of the moment,’ Holly said. ‘I know that.’ Yet there was no doubt that the knowledge had created a huge chasm in her relationship with her mother and since then, and especially after Seamus’s death, Holly had struggled to reconnect with her.

‘
No matter, it was all wrong. But in truth, there was a lot of stuff I didn’t get right.’ Eileen gave a watery smile. ‘You’ll find that too when you become a mother yourself. Do you know I was your age, Holly, when your father died?’

Holly let that sink in for a minute. Her mother had only been thirty-five then?

‘I’m sorry I never put myself in your position, how it must have felt for you too – until now. I’m so sorry, Mom.’

‘So in all that time you never looked for her?’ Eileen asked. ‘Even when you thought she was sending the charms?’

Holly sniffed. ‘No. Maybe there was a part of me that knew it couldn’t be her, but like you said, I didn’t want them to stop.’

‘Oh, I'll always be sending you something pet,’ Eileen went on. ‘You just keep on amazing me with your resilience and strength. Now dry your tears, and why don’t you open that box?’

Holly sniffled and pulled away, a smile on her face. ‘OK, fairy godmother.’ With nimble fingers she unwrapped the small box, and when she saw what was inside gave a watery grin. ‘Oh my, it’s so pretty,’ she whispered, lifting out the tiny silver dove.

‘It’s a symbol of hope, and I thought that today, of all days, you might need some. I bought it for the birth of the baby because, as a new mo
m
biological or not,’ she added with a smile, ‘it’s easy to feel like the world is swallowing you whole, that you don’t know how you will ever manage, and you very quickly realise what a big job you have in front of you. It’s all too easy to feel overwhelmed. But I know you, sweetheart, and I know that you probably feel that way today, when the world seems to be falling apart. But it’s not, and it never will, just so long as you have hope.’

Greg hustled across town on the bike, trying to make it through the heavy traffic that littered the Manhattan streets.

Doing his best to navigate the messy, slushy street without slipping and crashing off, he made it to the gallery about fifteen minutes later.

Only to realise that it was closed.

‘Damn,’ he spat, as he peered inside the gallery. It was dark, except for a small light coming from somewhere in the back.

Taking a chance, Greg got off the bike and knocked on the window, just in case Gennaro was inside.

Getting no response, he tried just a little bit harder and gave several more loud raps – still nothing. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through the numbers, finally coming to Gennaro’s. Pressing call, he waited to be connected.

Only to be sent directly to voicemail.

Now what? he wondered to himself.

Then, to his surprise, the front door of the gallery swung open and he felt himself jump. Turning to his left he expected to see his friend, but it wasn’t Gennaro. It was a slight woman with long black hair and almond-shaped eyes. She was dressed in black from head to toe. Gennaro’s assistant, Sofia. Greg recognised her immediately.

‘Can I help you?’ she asked with an impatient edge in her voice. ‘The gallery is closed.’

‘Sofia, isn’t it? Hi. I’m Greg Matthews. Gennaro has exhibited some of my work in the past and—’

‘Gennaro’s not here,’ she interjected quickly.

‘Right, I gather that, I just tried his number and—’

‘He flew to
Barbados. On the twenty-fourth. With some
woman
.’

Clearly,
Sofia was not impressed with this getaway. Greg briefly wondered if Barbados had been promised to her, only for Gennaro to change his mind and bring someone else. His friend’s taste in women seemed to morph on a daily basis, and he wondered just how many different females he had in reserve at any given point in time.

‘I spoke with him the other day and he didn’t mention anything about that.’

Sofia snorted. ‘Out of the blue he tells me he needs me to take care of the place for a few days. So here I am, while he is on some beach with some bimbo.’

Greg wondered just how involved Gennaro had been with
Sofia. Clearly, she was miffed about much more than having to work.

‘So,’ he continued gently, trying to change the subject, ‘I’m actually here because of something that Gennaro said the other day—’

Sofia cut him off quickly. ‘He hasn’t spoken to me about commissioning any new artwork, so I can’t help you until he gets back.’

‘Actually, it’s about something different.’ Greg went on to explain the situation he was in, and the comment that Gennaro had made about the woman coming to the gallery to identify the owner of a lost bracelet. ‘Did Gennaro happen to mention anything to you about it before he left? Anything about a bracelet?’

‘He didn’t say a word about any such thing. But apparently I am in the dark about a lot of matters these days, so no surprise there,’ she said, huffily crossing her arms across her chest.

Greg sighed, wondering if this was the end of the road for him. At least until Gennaro got back from his break, and he could talk to his friend directly.

Then he considered another angle. Maybe Gennaro hadn’t mentioned the bracelet, but maybe he had mentioned something else that could well be related. He’d got the impression that Gennaro had agreed to help the woman in some way and, knowing his friend, he was likely to have pawned off such a task.

‘Is there anything else?’
Sofia asked curtly, clearly anxious to go back inside and out of the cold.

‘Just one more thing. Maybe Gennaro didn’t mention the bracelet specifically. But would he have asked you to do anything out of the ordinary over the last few days?’
Sofia looked at him and her eyes narrowed. Greg quickly clarified his request. He was sure Gennaro had many unusual requests outside of work (and most likely inside the bedroom). ‘Anything that wasn’t business-as-usual? Like additional administration perhaps?’