Commitment

Part 34

Regan shrugged. "It's ok, Sam." She picked up her toast, the last thing she needed was their guilt trip. But she can be distant. More reserved. Remember to be standoffish. Polite, but unapproachable would be a good idea. Remain aloof with a trace of sarcasm would be good. But she decided it was best to remain pleasant while being detached from the event. "Don't worry about it." She said cheerfully, as if she really meant it. "Honestly, don't worry about it." Though it would have been nice to have you all plan a nice evening meal for me, she thought to herself softly. But you didn't, so no big deal. She banished her slide into despondency, and fixed a smile on her lips. Emotionless she said, "In any case, I wanted an early night."

Sam knew that she was being economical with the truth. If she'd wanted an early night she wouldn't have been sitting in the kitchen just gone midnight, tucking into toast and hot chocolate. "We'll keep you informed next time."

She shook her head, she questioned firmly, "Why?" and she added airily "As I said a few minutes ago, to your grandson, that's not necessary." She got to her feet, not making eye contact. Perhaps she can manage her taciturn-plan. Remain impassive, cool and polite her brain reminded her. "Your social life is your social life. What you do, is up to you." She put her plate on the drainer by the sink and kept her back to them. "It has nothing to do with me." Her brain congratulated her given her tone was expressionless. Perfect. Civil. Gracious. "As I said, before, to your grandson, it is your decision and your social life." As you have made more than clear today, she added to herself. You can do whatever you want, whenever you want, with anyone. Your decision. And I will not let it affect me. Which will be difficult for someone like her. Her empathy, her compassion, her understanding brought her to this position: this circumstance with the three people currently residing with her.

"But it's your home." Sam declared. He knew they had made a huge mistake, and he knew they had hurt her, given her tone and her body language. She might be pretending that it was nothing out of the ordinary, but he could see in her eyes and in her body language, that she was hurt.

It doesn't feel like my home at the moment, her brain reminded her. That's what added insult to injury she thought, as she dipped her head and made a great deal about washing her mug and plate. "No. This might be my house, but you live here." When she was a child, she'd been excluded by her parents. But here, at the cottage, her grandparents had always included her, made her feel loved, special and wanted. But today, the cottage had become a venue for exclusion. That brought her childhood's unhappiness back. So she pulled herself together before she gave in to her gloomy thoughts. She rinsed her mug and plate and stacked them on the drainer and she turned to face Gray and Sam. "Anyway, I hope everything went well this evening." She reached for a kitchen towel, wiped her hands dry and then walked toward the door. She was pleased to see she was able to keep to her plan. To remain businesslike and courteous.

"It did." Sam said quietly. They would have to do something to fix this. Apologising might help, but he figured it would take more than that.

She was being polite, but that spark of warmth that usually laced her voice was not there. She was treating them as if they were strangers. She was being polite, but there was no affection or conviviality in her voice. There was a measure of coolness, she'd withdrawn. Sam sensed it.

"That's good." She feigned a stretch and a yawn. Who knew she was such a good actress? She banked her smile. "Well, goodnight."

"I am really sorry Regan."  Sam said firmly.

"No need for an apology, Sam." Remember, be civil, her brain warned. She took a breath. She shrugged, "You live here." She pushed her chair back under the table just before she walked towards the door, "You can do whatever you want." She looked over at Gray, "Whenever you want, with anyone." She returned her gaze to Sam. "No need for an apology, at all. Your decision," She could not maintain this pretence for much longer. "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I need my bed. Goodnight." She told them with fake sociability. From now on she was going to stick to being pleasant but nothing more. They'd shown her where she stood in their affections. She would not cross that line again.

Gray and Sam said in tandem, "Good night."

Gray rubbed his face when she left the room, and then turned to find his grandfather scowling at him. He didn't need to hear his grandfather's words to know what he was thinking.

"She's upset." Gray mumbled.

"I know." Sam nodded. His eyes showed concern. "Actually, I would say, disenchanted. Truly, disappointed with us." Sam stated with a measure of guilt. He thought it was more than that. She looked letdown. And she looked heartrendingly sad. Though she'd covered that quickly and she re erected her defences, and regained that distance. "She was smiling with her lips but it was not in her eyes." It was as if she had put a marker down, as to where their friendship line started and finished. "We treated her badly tonight." He rubbed the back of his neck. "We really offended her." Sam mumbled to himself as he thought about the pain he'd seen in her eyes. They had been far from kind. "What we did was downright cruel."

Gray knew that, but still he tried to hide his worry. "It was just a meal, granddad." He grumbled, for he too had seen the hurt in her eyes before she'd shielded her eyes and hidden her feelings. And that warmth that he'd been criticising for weeks, that warmth that he'd called shallow, had disappeared. A new era, he thought as he reviewed her responses and his recollection of her face. Gray knew his grandfather was right:  She was upset. Really upset.

"It wasn't just a meal, Gray!" Sam shook his head. "If it was, you would not have asked Loretta to dress the table!" Gray mumbled to himself. "Even worse, a meal that she was told not to attend and we had the gall to use her home and her crockery." Sam muttered. The implications of their actions sank in, now that the excitement and stimulation of planning a dinner for a guest had passed. Now that he'd had real time to think about their evening, and the fact they'd excluded Regan, now he knew they'd been worse than selfish. "We told her not to attend the dinner!" Sam looked at his grandson.

"I never said that, Granddad!" Gray grumbled more loudly. He was pretty sure his reaction to seeing her reaction to the table and setting, had not helped. She'd looked so delighted, until she'd learnt that the table had been set for four people and she was not in that party. "Actually, I did invite her. Well sort of! I invited her when she showed up today." Gray offered as an excuse. "We definitely did not tell her not to attend the dinner." In his heart he knew he had hurt her. He wished he'd insisted she join them.

"We didn't have to spell it out." Sam murmured thoughtfully as he reviewed the way she had been treating them, and the way they had repaid her kindness. "She's a bright woman, albeit sensitive, it wouldn't have taken her long to figure out she was not part of the foursome."

"She works at night." Gray mumbled as he dug for a reason.

Sam shook his head at his grandson, "Maybe, but we deliberately excluded her." He huffed. "Hadn't even been alerted to the fact that we would be entertaining this evening." He looked over at his son and said with frown, "We had no concerns about using her home, her crockery, her everything!" He shook his head in disgust. "That was unkind. She has been immeasurably kind to us. Today we treated her shabbily."

"She isn't usually in for dinner, Granddad." Gray reminded again, as he too felt guilt take a firmer hold.

He knew he hadn't been welcoming when she had arrived that evening. But he hadn't expected her. And her arrival had thrown him. He should have insisted she join them, he knew that. Instead he'd conveyed the impression that their order would not feed five, and she would be an unwanted guest. He'd spent most of the evening trying to work out whether he should go and get her to join them. And he'd eaten his meal with dampened enthusiasm, knowing he'd acted badly. Of course they could have stretched the food to feed five instead of four. Small portions.

"Maybe so. But we didn't even let her know, let alone invite her. We could have checked, if she was available. But we didn't. How can that possibly be right?" Sam frowned as a tiny thought niggled. "We didn't show her any respect or courtesy. In her own home. We used her dinner crockery and cutlery, used her dining room, her table linen, and we excluded her." He muttered with disgust. "When did we become so callous, so unfeeling, so bloody thoughtless?"

Gray had felt guilty most of the evening and his grandfather's words just compounded the guilt. What should have been a lovely evening had been a bit of a damp squib, because he knew that she was home and was not sitting down to eat with them. He knew he should have persuaded her to join them. Poor manners.  He knew it, and he didn't like himself for it.