The Plan (31 page)

“Jenny was young when her mom left. She hadn't been as hurt by it as the boys because she doesn't really remember it. I think Jenny still keeps in touch with her mom, though we don't discuss it much. The kids got together with her once, at Jenny's pleading. From the bits and pieces the boys told me, it didn't go well and I'm pretty sure none of them have any interest in spending time with their mom again.”

“That's sad,” Claire said. “But I understand why they wouldn't want to be with her. You must've been so angry with her for leaving you to deal with everything on your own.” As she said it, Claire glanced to the back row. Alison and Mitch were both wearing headsets and watching a movie on the tablet. Only Callum was listening to the conversation and Claire got the impression he was zoning out as he stared at the road.

“You know, I was at first. I knew nothing about raising small kids. Not that my ex was much better at it, of course. But I'd been the breadwinner. I made the money, came home and played with the kids for an hour or two and then my wife put them to bed. I'd never gotten my hands dirty before, so to speak.

“It took me awhile to get the hang of things, but I did. As the kids grew older, my anger towards my ex-wife diminished. If anything, I felt sorry for her. She'd missed out on so much. Difficult things, of course. But so many really good things, too. And now, though I believe she'd like to have a relationship with all the kids, it's too late. Even if I were to encourage it, which I don't, my boys have minds of their own. She lost her chance with them. And, to be honest, in a way, she gave me a gift.”

“A gift?” It seemed hard to believe that even Frank, as good a man as he was, could find being left alone with four kids to be any sort of gift.

“She did. If I hadn't been forced to spend that much time with my
kids, I wouldn't have. I would've continued on with my two hours a night. I would've missed out on all the hours and weeks and months and years of really getting to know them as people. I wouldn't give that up for anything in the world. In the end, the memories of the time spent with your kids, as they grow up, is all you really have, isn't it?”

Claire nodded. She thought that, perhaps, Frank might catch himself and worry he'd hurt her in some way. After all, everyone knew that memories were the only thing she had left of her own children. But when she looked at him carefully, she knew he'd said those words intentionally.

Callum had said something, during one of their talks about her family, and his words had stuck with her.

“Don't let your good memories be ruined by how badly it all ended. Focus on each memory as one happy moment in time. Why would you let the day of their deaths define their entire lives?”

Claire had taken Callum's words to heart and, every day, though it was a struggle, she worked harder and harder to remind herself that the memories were singular moments in time. The end did not define the story.

And she was making sure to treasure the moments she had with Callum and with the new friends she'd made. Claire didn't look toward the future. It was too uncertain. It was not promised to any of them. She was learning to live in the moment. The past was too painful and what lay ahead was unclear. But the present? Claire found she could find contentment in that.

“I think it's time I drove,” Claire said to Callum. “We all need to get out and walk around for a bit.”

“You just want a Coke,” Callum said, smiling, but he signaled to move into the right lane.

“Well, that's true, too,” Claire said.

“I thought you were giving that crap up,” Callum said.

“I am,” Claire said. She'd been trying, unsuccessfully, to give up caffeine and sugar. The weight she'd been gaining since taking this new job had reached its ideal number and she didn't wish for the pounds to continue attaching to her frame. “Just not today.”

Callum shook his head, but said nothing, as he maneuvered the van off the highway and into the parking lot of an Exxon station.

An Exxon station that was like the
hundreds
of others they'd visited over the past couple of months.

“Let's talk about Christmas,” Callum said. It was December and the two of them were making dinner in his kitchen.

The team had finished their fall tour at the end of October and returned to Atlanta, which was where their home base and offices were. Claire had found a small, furnished apartment to rent for the next few months. Though she and Frank still rehearsed, she found both of their roles changed when they were back “in the office.” Claire had begun to help Alison with more of the logistical planning, contacting local event venues, soliciting donations, lining up speakers and filling in wherever Alison needed help.

The arrangement was working out well for both of the women. Alison had been in a continual state of treading water and Claire was afraid, if she had too much time on her hands, which seemed likely, since Frank only worked part-time when they weren't traveling, she'd go insane or become depressed.

At the start of the new year, they'd all be traveling overseas for an international tour. Until then, the work was all planning and prepping for next year's events.

A lot went into each seminar, more than Claire had even realized during her months traveling with the group. She'd seen “the shows,” so to speak, but none of the rehearsals or planning that went into them since she'd joined the team so late.

“Okay, what do you want to talk about?” Claire asked. She and Callum
had spent Thanksgiving with Mitch at his parents' home in Savannah. Alison had gone to spend the holiday with her family in Maryland and Mitch had told them he couldn't bear dealing with his parents and all of their stuffy friends alone. And since neither Callum nor Claire had anyone else to spend the day with, they'd happily agreed to tag along.

Christmas, though, was looming ahead of Claire like a dark cloud ready to burst open with its torrential downpour. Callum was headed back to Ireland to see his family, as he did every year. Mitch and Alison had decided to skip the family drama and escape to Fiji for the week. Frank would be spending his break with his kids in Kansas, and Wyatt was going back to Texas to be with his mom. Gia had finally found a man she could tolerate for more than a few dates, and she and her new beau were going to be spending the holiday with his family in Maine. That left Claire. Alone.

“I'd like you to spend Christmas with me,” Callum said, as he chopped a carrot on a wooden cutting board.

He'd promised to buy vegetables that were pre-cut, so she wouldn't have to witness any of his choppin', which always made her nervous, but when she'd arrived, he was already hacking away. “It's so much cheaper to cut them yourself!” he'd said when she'd given him the evil eye.

“I thought you were going to Ireland,” she said, in reference to his Christmas question. She'd been avoiding the topic with him, fearing she'd burst into tears the moment the holiday was mentioned.

“I am. I'd like you to come with me.”

“To Ireland?” Claire asked, looking up from the onion she was cutting. “You're kidding.”

“Of course not. Yes, to Ireland. I want you to come with me and meet my family.”

Claire went back to her cutting. “I'd feel like I was imposing.”

“Imposing? Why would you ever think that?”

“Well, you know…a woman they don't know…crashing at their house for the holiday. Christmas is for families.”

“You and the whole team are part of my family,” Callum said.

“It's different and you know it. We
say
that, but we're not real family or anything.”

“Claire,” Callum said, laying down his knife and turning his chair so he was facing her. “It's real to me.”

Claire shrugged and continued to cut, not looking up at him. “You're asking me because you feel sorry for me.”

“That's not true.”

“Of course it's true. And that's fine,” she said. “I feel sorry for me, too.” She tried to smile, but instead, felt the tears well up in her eyes.

“Stop cutting.”

Claire ignored him and continued to chop. The tears were fully falling now, down her cheek and onto the cutting board.

“Stop cutting,” Callum said more firmly, as he grabbed her arm and silenced her hand. “And stop crying.”

“It's the onions,” Claire said, wiping her eyes with the back of her sleeve.

“Look at me.”

Claire kept her chin down, not raising her eyes to meet him.

“Claire, look at me,” he insisted.

Claire slowly lifted her head.

“I'm not asking you to come to Ireland with me for Christmas because I feel sorry for you. Though I fully recognize your situation sucks. I'm asking you to come to Ireland with me for Christmas because I want you there. I want you to meet my family. I want you to see where I grew up. I want to see what crazy tourist attraction you'll have us visit because you read about it in some tour book.”

Claire smiled, a little, at that thought. She wiped at her cheeks,
again, careful to keep the onion juice, which was on her hand, away from her eyes.

“And, more than that, I can't bear the thought of being away from you for two full weeks.”

“You can't?”

“Of course I can't. You and I are together nearly all the time and have been for months now. How would I survive with you not around to tell me what to do?”

Claire gasped. “I do not tell you what to do.”

“How's my carrot cutting going?”

“You should've bought the pre-cut ones.”

“Case in point.” Callum smiled and Claire couldn't help but smile along with him.

“Listen, Claire,” Callum continued, taking her hand. “I love Ireland, but I wouldn't love Ireland nearly as much on this trip if you're not with me. Don't you understand?”

“Understand what?”

“Don't you understand, yet, that nothing in my life makes sense without you? Not even my beloved Ireland.”

Claire sighed. She loved this man. Loved him deeply and with all she had in her. She wanted to go to Ireland with him. She hadn't considered the possibility before, but now that he'd brought it up, she clung to the idea. The holiday would be so much better, so much less lonely, if she were with Callum.

“What if your family doesn't like me?”

“What's not to like?” Callum asked.

“Well, you have a point there,” Claire said. “I am pretty fabulous.”

“There's my lass,” Callum said, his brogue heavy as fudge.

“Can I please cut the rest of the carrots?” she asked.

Callum sighed with a deep, exaggerated breath. “If you must,” he said. “But, do you think I could at least rip up the lettuce?”

“I think I could bear to watch that. As long as you use your hand and not anything sharp.”

“So bossy,” Callum mumbled, but Claire saw him smile as he turned and rolled to the fridge.

Claire had never been out of the country. Except to Mexico on her honeymoon, close to twenty years ago. She didn't really count that, though, because she and Jack had barely left the hotel room, they were so enamored with one another. So the only time Claire actually saw foreign ground was when they drove from the airport to the hotel and then back a week later. The two of them had subsisted on room service and sex for seven days straight.

It had been the best week of Claire's life.

The team was planning an overseas tour after the holidays, and Claire already had her passport. The only thing that stood between Claire and Christmas in Ireland was the purchase of a plane ticket, which Callum took care of after dinner.

“I've never been on a plane for that long,” Claire said, once Callum hit the button to confirm his purchase. “Is it awful?”

“Not if you get up to stretch your legs,” Callum said.

“Does that help you?” Claire asked, a teasing glint in her eyes.

“Oh, completely. The worst part, of course, is the way there's no leg room between you and the seat in front of you,” he said with a laugh.

Claire tipped her head up toward his, so he could kiss her and, as he did, she slipped her hand inside the buttons of his shirt. His skin felt so smooth. His chest so hard. Claire was filled with a desire she hadn't experienced since she was a young woman.

Except, of course, for the desire she'd felt the last time they were in this position. And the time before that.

For all the kissing Callum and Claire participated in, they hadn't progressed past that point. It was beginning to bother Claire.

She wasn't worried he didn't find her attractive. She knew that wasn't the case. She also knew that, despite Callum's physical limitations, all the other “parts” he had worked perfectly fine. He'd made sure to let her know that right from the beginning of the relationship.

Callum put his hand on Claire's wrist and, though he didn't remove her hand from his chest, his grip was firm enough to discourage any wandering.

Claire sighed and closed her eyes. She wanted to be straightforward and ask Callum why he didn't seem to want to progress any further than the puppy-love stage with her. But whenever she began to open her mouth, the words became weighty on her tongue and she closed it again. She wasn't ready to ask the question.

Or maybe, she wasn't ready to hear the answer.

Claire had never been a sex fiend. She'd never been able to keep up with the amount of sex Jack had wanted. But wasn't that the case with most couples? The man always wants to have sex and the woman only wants it sometimes.

But in the case of Callum, Claire found she was the one who seemed to hold all the desire. Callum liked to hold her hand and put his arm around her. He kissed her a lot, whether it be on the lips or on the top of her head. But, he kept his hand in safe and neutral territory and, to Claire's dismay, he made sure her hands remained there, too.