Meant To Be

Chapter twenty-six

Ronnie flipped her suitcase upside down. Her mountain of clothes carpeted the floor. Digging a brown belt out from her belongings she tied back the plaid curtains. The soft heat stroked her cheeks as it slipped in through the window, outside a fusion of heaven and green. Ronnie picked up her grey hoodie, hesitating as she was about to pull it on, an arm half in. Eyeing the dirty washing lying in the corner of the room, she brought her arm back to her body and threw the grey hoodie on top of the pile.

Ronnie dressed in a red tee and denim shorts. She went through every other item, finding a place for it to belong. She filled the empty wardrobe with clothes and stacked her books in a column by the bed. A silver frame holding a family of four remained inside the suitcase. Ronnie stood over it, gazing down at the happy faces. She motioned to pick the photo up but stopped mid-way, reaching for the top of the suitcase instead and flipping it over; zipping it shut. Ronnie tried to kick the case under the bed, but it wouldn't fit, so she lifted it and shoved it up on top of the wardrobe, pushing it back as far as it could go.

Ronnie took her coffee and laptop out to the front porch and sat on the step, the heat climbing to the peak of the day. There was still no reply from Sadie. Ronnie scrolled through her inbox. She started deleting unread emails from brands, clicking mechanically while trying to fend off a blitz of paranoia. She groaned, the want keeping at her. Ronnie returned to her sent items and clicked on the email she sent to Sadie, hoping to find peace of mind among the words.

Hi Sadie,

I hope all is good with you and congrats to you and Dan on little Sophie!

This will probably come as a bit of a surprise but I'm back in Tennessee. I've been renting a house outside Bell Buckle for over a month now, but I'm keen to move for work which brings me to the reason for my email. I thought I would check in with you to see if any positions were available in the General Hospital in Nashville. I know it's a long shot, but I had to ask just in case.

Looking forward to hearing from you.

Thanks very much,

Ronnie. X

Closing the lid of the laptop, Ronnie spotted Helen walking in the lane. She was wearing a t-shirt with some kind of logo on the front, the kind that belonged to a band; her jeans tucked roughly into her boots. Helen seemed at ease under the blue morning sky, as if without burdens to wear her down. Ronnie wished she knew witchcraft like that.

"Morning Ronnie."

"Hi Helen, how are you?"

"Good, thank you. Have I caught you at a bad time?" She gestured towards the laptop.

"No, not at all. I'm just finished."

"I timed it well then." Helen held up a brown paper bag, delight dressing her face. Ronnie read Nirvana on her t-shirt. "I brought you some blueberry scones. Homemade."

"Aw, that's so kind," said Ronnie, getting up off the porch step. The bag of bread was still warm as she handed it over. "You'll stay for coffee and a scone?"

Crumbs dusted their plates, the coffee pot as light as the day it was bought. Ronnie excused herself from the table to go to the toilet, thinking Helen would take it as her que to leave. But she didn't say a word. When Ronnie reappeared, Helen had moved outside. She was sitting on the porch step, staring towards the ranch in a daze. Ronnie sat down next to her. "Everything ok?"

Helen looked at Ronnie like she was trying to dive into her soul. "Will you tell me about Ireland?"

Ronnie started in Tyrone, growing up in the Sperrin's. Farming with her daddy. Her mammy's family of thirteen. Having hundreds of cousins (not literally). Mass on Sundays. Potatoes with every dinner. School uniforms. GAA. Making your holy communion. Learning what a protestant was. Holidaying in Donegal. The sea always being cold regardless of the weather. Making your confirmation. Secondary school. Breaking your greenness. Breaking your pledge. GCSEs. Part-time jobs. Pre-drinking. Guinness. Getting the ride. A-levels. Formals. Wakes. University. The Holylands. Graduation. Full time jobs. Marriage. Mortgage. Children.

"What are you doing today?" asked Helen.

Marriage, mortgage, children. Marriage, mortgage, children. The words had tumbled out of Ronnie's mouth like scripture and now they banged inside her brian as if it were a prison. How close she'd been to a hattrick peeled the skin of her heart.

"Ronnie?"

Ronnie squinted, the sun drifting out from behind a rogue cloud. "Sorry. Daydreaming." She performed a faint smile.

"What's on your mind?"

Ronnie was unsure at first, to spill the traditional Irish voyage of women like blood. It seemed criminal when so many she loved lived that way. But Helen's sincerity overrode it. "Marriage, mortgage, children," said Ronnie.

Helen grimaced like a mother would do. "There are many ways to live a life Ronnie, the hard part is finding one that works for you." The dark forbidding nestling in the pit of Ronnie's stomach eased. "A favourite author of mine said that and I thought it was brilliant."

"What author?"

"Meg Mason. She's Australian."

"A wise woman."

"She is. Now, I'll try again," said Helen, trying to inject a bit of humour. "What are your plans this afternoon?"

"I don't have any."

"Would you want to come over to the house? I've some photos I could show you. Of my gramma."