Meant To Be

Chapter thirty-five

Ronnie crossed the hallway wrapped in a towel, her wet hair dripping down her back. The envelope was lying on the bed. She picked it up and went to the window. Patrick was sitting on the porch. His head hanging low, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Ronnie scolded as she turned her back on him. Gemma's writing was thin, and every letter curled at the end. Ronnie flipped the envelope over and poked her little finger inside the corner fold, tearing it open.

Dear Ronnie,

Wherever you are in the world I hope you're doing ok. When I heard you had taken leave after Kyle's passing, my heart cried. I can only hope that you know you did everything you could. Our wee man was just too good for this world. I take great comfort in knowing that.

I understand why you didn't come to the funeral so please do not think we were in any way offended. The truth is, we are forever in your debt. You gave my boy to me for three years longer than expected. You filled us with great hope from day one. I'll never be able to express how powerful that was, how your belief changed our lives.

I loved watching how Kyle got under your professional exterior. I knew all about the nights you spent with us that weren't part of your rota. When you were just off a twelve-hour shift, but you chose to come and see us. Kyle loved those chocolate raisins you always brought him.

I hope your struggles are eased quickly and that you find happiness and peace very soon. I'm sending lots of love and prayers, and always remember, you have an angel in the sky now too.

All the best,

Gemma

Xxxxxxx

Patrick heard the front door open. He kept his gaze on the ground on Ronnie to say or do something. He decided he would leave if she asked him to. But hoped she wouldn't.

"I'm so dam sorry Ronnie," said Patrick in a low unsteady voice, unable to manage all the things she was trying to say in the silence. Her face was soaked, chest rising and falling like she had run a great distance to be with him. Gemma's letter hanging from her hand. She dropped on to her knees, banging against the wood and threw her arms around his neck. Patrick clutched her body in his arms like she belonged there, thinking she was thinner.

"I'm so sorry Ron, for not realising," said Patrick, holding her tighter as she sobbed against his shoulder. "Kyle was the same age as your James when he got sick. When he died."

Ronnie nodded, blinded by tears. "I just hope they're happy in heaven."

*

Zac raised his hand. He was gripping a green bottle of whiskey by the neck - Jamison. Helen had emptied the house of alcohol the morning after the funeral. Zac said he would help. Helen wouldn't have it. When she left with all the drink in the boot of her car, Zac reached for the chair and placed it by the sink, standing on top of it. He reached his hand up on top of the kitchen cabinet where the dust gathered and cobwebs grew. He thanked his daddy, promising to hide it somewhere safe for a rainy day. It was fitting that the thunder plump had come as expected.

"Get in here," said Casey.

Casey grabbed the bottle as he passed. Zac took a quiet breath, flexing his empty hand by his side. Casey dumped the bottle in the closet and pulled a towel from the rack. In the kitchen she gave it to Zac. He dabbed his face a few times before draping it over the back of the chair.

"What happened?" asked Casey.

Zac leaned on the back of the chair, pushing through his arms. His shirt a darker shade of blue from all the rain. "I went to see Ronnie."

"Did you guys have a row?"

"No."

"Did you go back to Ronnie's, after last night?" Zac nodded. Casey's brows furrowed together. "So what, you slept together and now she's unsure?"

Zac smirked, spitting laughter at her like a bullet. "Like she was getting anything more from me." He lifted his hands off the back of the chair, straightening.

"So what is it then?"

"Ronnie's at home with her husband."

"Her husband?" Casey stared at him, waiting on a correction that didn't come. "How do you know he's not a relative or a friend visiting? She's been here months. She's bound to have family who miss her."

"He told me Casey."

"You met him!?"

"I went to see Ronnie and he was there."

"Are you sure?"

Zac's eyes narrowed.

"She has a fucking husband. What a dirty little-"

"There's no need for that," Zac cut in.

"There's every need for it! How could she do that to you after everything you've been through?"

"She doesn't know."

"Even so Zac, she's married! Doesn't she owe her husband a bit of decency?"

Tiredness was circling Zac like a predator. Hunger creeping in on him too. He remembered eating yesterday. "It doesn't matter Casey."

Casey looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "If it doesn't matter then why the hell were you wandering about in the rain with a bottle of whiskey in your God dam hand for!?"

"I had fucking sex with her! Isn't that enough?!"

The ticking of the clock grew vivid. The delicacy of time making itself known as they stood on opposite sides of the kitchen.

"Zac..." Casey's voice crumbled. She thought about life lately, her life. She was happy. She was certain of that now.

"It's fine. I need to go anyway. Feed the cattle. Horses."

"Wait Zac. Please." Casey went after him. "I'm sorry."

Zac opened the front door. "Ronnie doesn't owe me anything so don't you go hating on her now."

"I won't, I promise," said Casey, clinging to Zac with her eyes. "Were you really thinking of drinking it?"

"The notion was there."

"But you didn't." Casey gave an encouraging smile. Zac's despair destroyed it like a hurricane ripping through mankind, muttering something as he left. Casey let him keep it.