Saints and Sinners

Chapter Twenty-One

"Brianna...for goodness sake...sit down?" Caris sighed, taking her friend's arm and almost dragging her out of the kitchen and onto the balcony, pushing her towards the wicker seats with some determination. "If you clean that counter any more you will wear it out?"

"Why doesn't he call? Brianna moaned, sweeping her floral print summer dress beneath her as she gave in and took her mother's favourite place. Caris sighed again, and took Jacob's chair, squashing her gown into it without a care for possible creases. Brianna was in no mood to dress in the British style, but she still felt compelled to cover up.

"Bree...Gideon said he would call when it was safe...and that probably means when they are in the air and out of British airspace?"

"It's taking so long..."

"Secure communication isn't possible outside the hotel?" Caris reminded her, leaning right forwards to take Brianna's hands in hers. Hope was a killer. She remembered many times in her long service when she thought things might get better, but she had soon learned not to build her hopes up, because it hurt so much more when they were dashed. "And Gideon said that there was all sorts of paperwork to complete?"

"Grace is an American citizen returning home? How complicated can that be?"

"Bree...this is Britain we are talking about...Gideon is achieving a minor miracle and you have to trust him?" Caris insisted, and Brianna knew that her friend was right, but that was easier said than done. And then her cell phone began to vibrate. She almost dropped it in her eagerness to answer, and when she looked at the screen, it said caller withheld, but she slid the slider with a shaking finger and put the phone to her ear.

"Gideon?"

"Mom...it's me...we are in the air...I'm coming home?"

Caris Fletcher stood up and left Brianna to cry and talk all at the same time. She soon found herself in the kitchen again, cleaning things that Brianna had just polished to a shine, just for something to do. She was used to hard work, used to being told what to do and having no say in her life, over four decades, so she knew it was going to take more than a few months of freedom to shake that off. But she was happy. The idea of Sean coming home made her heart leap, and the news about Grace lifted her spirits. Outside of her weekly therapy sessions, she made a conscious effort not to think about the past. About the only thing she had accepted in her recovery was that she was not to blame. She had done what she had been told to do, just to save herself from pain. If she had refused, someone else would have done it, probably with less compassion and skill, and the poor women she put down would have suffered more. And she would have joined them in their unmarked graves. It did not stop her feeling guilty but she did not carry the blame as well, and that felt like progress.

"Do you fancy a glass of champagne?" Brianna asked, appearing in the open doorway with a tear-stained face and a huge smile. Caris nodded and hugged her, holding her tight, and they cried some more together, letting the tension go. And then they opened some fizz, after putting several more bottles in the refrigerator for later. They reckoned that they would be reunited by dinner time. "I am never letting that girl off this island again!"

"Good plan...but she might have other ideas?" Caris suggested, topping them both up for a second glass. She was getting used to drinking again, slowly but surely.

"Oh, Caris...you've missed out on so much...and all I do is go on about my kids? My four grown-up kids!"

"And so you should...you should enjoy them...and the grandchildren...they are my family too now, remember?"

"Auntie Caris..."

"I don't have regrets, Bree...I have a lot of anger...a lot of bitterness hidden away...but no regrets? I was not allowed to have a normal life...it was stolen from me...but I just want to make the most of what I have now?"