Always a Wanderer Page 3

  “You’re overreacting,” Graham said, continuing his argument.

  Mr. Shane smiled, the gesture slow and dangerous. “No. I’m not. And before things get to that point, and someone gets hurt, I think it’s best if I shut you down.”

  Chapter Three

  GRAHAM CONTINUED ARGUING as Mr. Shane got into his car and slammed the door in his face. It hurt Helena to be forced to stand idly by.

  Mr. Shane wouldn’t dare shut them down. They had poured so much time, money, and effort into the place. Just getting the money necessary had taken an extraordinary amount of work, since the manor and the man holding its purse strings had refused to support their dream, and all donations had to come through families who knew their secrets. Mr. Shane had been fighting them every step of the way. Maybe Helena shouldn’t have been surprised that he would do it again now, when the last pieces were so close to falling into place.

  There were times when she wondered if Mr. Shane’s goal in life was simply to make Graham’s as difficult as possible. It was hard to understand their mercurial relationship. One minute they would be in a mutually agreed upon period of peace, but if there was even the slightest disagreement, things would rapidly deteriorate and Mr. Shane would turn against him—just as he did now.

  It was more than frustrating, and she felt for Graham. He worked so hard to make his dreams happen, but was constantly thwarted by the man above him. If it hadn’t been for his brother Danny’s still-tenuous health, she was certain he would have left this place long ago.

  “Graham,” she said, putting her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just got a bee in his bonnet. He’ll come to his senses.”

  Graham turned to her, and his face was twisted with rage. “He’s a damn eejit. How can he think that he has the power to just shut us down? Sure, he owns the land, but goddamn it, we’re the ones...This is ours.” He motioned toward the hospital. “He has no right. I won’t let him.”

  “As long as we can keep gettin’ funded without his help, we can keep goin’.” Even as the words fell from her lips, she was aware of the futility of them. She and Graham were in control of the events in their lives and the future of the hospital about as much as a bird was in control of the direction of the wind. All they could do for now was be carried by it, not fight against it. Some things were too powerful. And sometimes the best thing to do was wait to fly until the squall died down.

  “Mr. Shane will cool off. We just need to make sure Neill won’t whisper a word of this place to anyone who shouldn’t know. We need to keep everyone safe.” The need for safety was the only thing she could agree with Mr. Shane on.

  A whisper of guilt rose up from her belly. She had caused this. She had known the risk, but she had acted with her heart once again. Her heart was an impulsive thing, a thing she thought she could control, but when she was forced to make a difficult decision—it always pulled her further from logic and deeper into emotion. Damn her heart.

  Graham took hold of her waist and pulled her closer to him, so they were face-to-face and his breath warmed her skin. Was he going to kiss her? It had been such a long time. The thought made her chest ache with sadness and longing—and a touch of loneliness.

  Hopefully her heart wouldn’t lead her astray once again.

  Graham reached up and pushed a stray hair behind her ear, and he let his fingers graze over the line of her chin. “I know things have been hard between us. I’m sorry.”

  His words were weighted with emotion, but it wasn’t enough to fix all that was wrong between them. She wanted him to kiss her, but he pulled back and dropped his hands from her waist.

  “Let’s get out of here and do something just for us. Something fun,” he said. “No horses. Nothing dangerous. Just me and you, and maybe we can get Mary to pack us up a bite to eat.”

  The thought of Mary Margaret made the chasm in her grow a little wider. When Helena had come to the manor, it had been as a simple cook, chopping and mincing and talking to the kitchen maven. When she’d made the choice to stay and work with Graham at the hospital, she knew she would have to give up her position in the kitchen, but like so many of the other aspects of her life she’d left behind, she missed it.

  Life had been so much easier before. And, as much as it surprised her, the days she had spent looking after the children and moving around the countryside caring for her mam—in many ways, they had been easier too. At least she’d known what the day would bring. And there wasn’t the constant threat of death if her gift failed; there wasn’t the pressure of pleasing others, or fixing the world—rather, it was a life spent one day at a time. It had been a life of simple pleasures and moments of silence in a world that changed too fast.

  “Helena?” Graham asked, pulling her back from her thoughts.

  “Ya know what?” She glanced down at her mobile. By this time Angel would be home with Liam, and Da would be back from his work as a groundskeeper. Right now she needed nothing more than to be with her family. “I’m gonna head back to the cottage.”

  Graham’s face fell, like she had just thrown salt into Mr. Shane’s freshly laid lashes.

  “It’s just that...” she started, trying to lessen the sting.

  “No. I get it,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Nothing’s going right today. Maybe it’s better if we call this one and just rest before the grand opening.”

  A wave of relief moved over her. Reality had proven to be so different than what she’d imagined six months ago—when she’d come here with idealistic thoughts of living a life in which only love and Graham mattered. Maybe that was exactly what had happened to Angel when she’d married the gorger. Maybe her heart had told her love was enough, but when life got in the way and she was standing alone when all she wanted to do was stand together, that idealism disappeared, and she was left with only the harsh light of reality.

  “Do you want a ride?” Graham asked, motioning toward his Mercedes.

  She shook her head. “Nah, I need to stretch my legs.” She gave his hand a light, quick squeeze. “Ring me later.”

  She leaned up on her tiptoes and gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He smelled of the hospital’s antiseptic mixed with the earthy scent of hay from the equestrian center.

  If nothing else, he had tried. He had tried to make the day special for them. It was just too bad that the world kept getting in the way.

  THE MANOR WAS ABUZZ with life as the staff decorated for fall. They had placed little wreaths of orange leaves and red berries across the tables in the halls, and garlands of red and orange leaves over the doorways. The place was warm, ready to start the celebrations that preceded Christmas and the winter equinox, but it carried chilly whispers of what could come to those who were unprepared for the days ahead.

  Graham made his way up the double-winder staircase and toward John’s office. He couldn’t leave things as they were. The man had no right to threaten them. Not when they had worked so hard for so long. It was just another of his stepfather’s power plays—a way to manipulate them into doing whatever dance he had in mind.

  If John really wanted to shut them down, he could have done it long before now. There had to be something else going on.

  Graham knocked on the heavy wooden door of the man’s office, and the sound echoed back at him. “John, we need to talk.”

  There was no answer.

  “John,” he repeated.

  Mr. Shane could have been any number of places, but it was rare that he wasn’t in his office at this time of day. Then again, after their argument, maybe he had decided to take a break.

  Graham reached down and pulled out his mobile. He’d missed three phone calls, and there was a text message from the main nurses’ station at the hospital:

  We need you here. Incident with new patient.

  Mr. Shane, and the conversation they needed to have, could wait. He needed to extinguish the biggest fire first. He thought about calling the hospital and finding out what was wrong, but instead he st
uffed the mobile back into his pocket. His head ached with the stresses of the day, yet he was no closer to finding the answers he needed. Maybe it was selfish, but he needed these minutes to reorient himself and find a few moments of quiet.

  The darkness of night pressed down, and the lights cast long, skeletal shadows through the small car park in front of the hospital. A deep autumn chill filled the air, and he tried to ignore its bite as he made his way inside.

  The charge nurse stood in the lobby waiting for him, her hair pinned up into a honeycomb bun and her face tight with stress. “What took you so long?”

  It had taken him less than ten minutes to get from the manor back to the hospital, and in truth he wished it had taken even longer. “What are you talking about?”

  “We’ve been waiting.” She motioned for him to follow her into the back. “I...rather, we...have a problem.”

  He followed her to Neill’s private hospital room. John stood beside the door. He was so pale that his skin had taken on a green tone. John opened his mouth to speak, but then he stopped and looked down at the floor.

  “What the feck happened?” Graham strode to the door and pushed it open.

  There, hanging from the ceiling, was Neill. His face was bloated and blue, and there was a sickening purple tint around his bloodshot eyes—it was the face of a corpse.

  Chapter Four

  HELENA STARED AT THE cottage’s kitchen wall. Its white paint was peeled back, as if it didn’t want to be stuck in this place. The walls pressed in on her, and an edge of panic rose up from her core.

  On evenings like this, when she had so much on her mind, she couldn’t help wishing she were back in the world of trailer living—a world where she could just walk outside and sit beside the campfire and stare at the flames. It was the best way she had ever found to get back to her center—to the core of who she was, where she could reconnect with her true self.

  She glanced out the window. Outside stood row after row of headstones, each leading up to the Holy Trinity Abbey Church. In her old life, she had been surrounded by change, progress, and forward movement. Yet here, she was surrounded by varying states of decay.

  “Helena, can ya give me a hand in here with the boys? Liam’s being a right wily thing,” her sister called from down the hall.

  Helena made her way toward the bathroom, where Angel was trying to cajole her son into staying in the bath. There was the sound of splashing and Liam’s squeal. He kicked as Angel tried to pour a cup of water over his head to wash the shampoo out of his hair. He burbled and sputtered as the water ran over his face.

  “Seriously, lad, it’s just a wee bit of water. We don’t need the theatrics.”

  Helena and Angel’s younger brother, Gavin, was sitting on the toilet, fiddling with a plastic boat and singing a song as he waited for his turn.

  “Look at Gav,” Angel said, trying to divert her son’s attention. “He’s being such a good lad. Can you be like your uncle?” The stress in her voice reminded Helena of their mam.

  She stood staring at her sister for a moment. More than anything, she didn’t want the two of them to slip into the roles they had been taught as young children. She couldn’t stand the thought of either of them turning into their alcoholic, narcissistic, and bitter mam.

  Liam grabbed the cup of water and let it go, spilling water all the way down Angel’s shirt and into her lap.

  “Gawd, boy. What were ya thinking? Now I’m going to have to change my clothes. Don’t ya got a brain in that head?”

  Helena reached over and touched Angel’s shoulder. Her sister was stressed. She needed a break. “It’s okay. It’s just a bit o’ water. Go change. I got the lads.”

  “Aye.” Angel stood up and wiped a wet hand over her forehead, leaving water on her skin. “Ma’aths, gra. They’re gettin’ on my last nerve.”

  “Have a cup of tea. I’ll be along.”

  Angel gave her an acknowledging nod as she made her way to the kitchen.

  As Helena washed the last bits of slick soap out of Liam’s hair, her mind wandered. A year ago she had been doing basically the same thing—taking care of kids. At that time, she had wanted nothing more than to finish up her schooling, go to university, and follow her dreams. Had she made a mistake by giving it all up?

  She leaned in and sniffed the top of Liam’s head. He was too old to carry the baby scent, but he still smelled of youth and innocence—of a life full of decisions and promises. What she would give to be unencumbered again. To be naïve to the fact that with every path taken there were many left behind.

  Were there ever any right or easy answers? Any correct decisions?

  She tried to imagine where her life would be if she had gone to university. No doubt she would have been sitting in some classroom somewhere, trying to learn the ins and outs of anatomy or biology. She would be struggling through the required classes in nursing and learning the basics of mathematics and science. She’d likely be getting the side-eye from the gorgers in her classroom.

  Helena couldn’t forget the time in secondary school when she had been called to the front of the class for yet another absence earlier in the week—Mam had had one of her trips down the bottle, and Helena had been forced to stay home and take care of Gavin, who at the time couldn’t have been more than a few months old. She was humiliated, standing there in front of her entire class, her dirty knees poking out from under the edge of her uniform—a reminder that she’d crawled out of the trailer that morning so she could get out unnoticed and unpunished by Mam. No one knew. No one could know. Nothing good would have come of the authorities finding out about her home life.

  Yet the worst part wasn’t standing there blemished by her mam’s choices and her own rebellion, but rather the look of derision the redhead in the front row gave her. It wasn’t even so much a look as an outright judgmental assault on everything that Helena was and stood for. And it didn’t end there. When Helena was finally ordered to sit, the girl loudly proclaimed a piece of human trash like her had no place amongst them—and she was disappointed Helena hadn’t permanently disappeared from their lives.

  She could have lived with the girl’s disdain; she was hardly the first person to look down her nose at Helena. But the support the redhead garnered—the collective nods and sneers—broke her heart.

  In that moment it was hard to remind herself that she and her family weren’t trash. It wasn’t until she excused herself and made her way to the bathrooms, where she could really look at herself, that she could remember who she was—she and her family were Travellers. Pavee, to be exact. They’d never be understood or accepted, and they weren’t the kind who required others’ validation to know their own worth. There was much to be proud of—deeply held traditions about the importance of family, hard work, and the ability to embrace change.

  Even with that knowledge, facing bigotry at the university, day in and day out, would have been just like her days in secondary school. The only difference would have been that there were more people to despise her. At least at the manor, for the most part, she was accepted.

  Sure, there were still a few who gave her a wide berth in the hallways, or wouldn’t speak to her, but being with Graham provided her and her cultural background with a certain level of legitimacy. Or maybe it was just that everyone had been forced to accept that she and her family were going to become a part of the manor, and their lives.

  No matter where she went, or what she did, she would never be completely welcome. She would never fit in. She’d never be perfect.

  She sat back and let Liam play in the water for a moment. Was that the battle she had been fighting within herself all this time? Had she been trying to fit everyone else’s vision for her? Had she been trying to be everyone’s perfect everything?

  Angel walked into the room as Helena wrapped Liam in a towel.

  “Thanks for takin’ ’im. I dunno, sometimes I just get so...”

  “Frustrated?” Helena said, finishing her sister’s sentence.
“It’s all right, lass. We all got our moments.”

  What she really wanted to say was that she feared they were following in their mam’s footsteps, but she resisted the urge. No doubt Angel felt the same as she did—the pressure to be more and to rise above.

  Angel nodded, but her gaze fell to the mug of steaming tea she held in her hands.

  “Maybe ya need to get out of the house. You’ve been cooped up in here for the last few months. Maybe it’s time for something different—a change, ya know?”

  Angel looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Who would watch the children? The last thing I need is for Duncan to find somethin’ he can use against me. This divorce has been hard enough—if he thinks he can get Liam from me, I’m sure he’ll try. I can’t give him no grounds. I can’t lose my son.” She set her cup on the white bathroom counter and moved to dry Liam’s hair. She gazed at him like he was a fragile dust mote, and if she moved too fast or tried to grasp him too hard, he would slip through her fingers and disappear.

  Helena understood that fear. In a way, it was how she had felt about Graham when they first started dating.

  “Don’t be controlled by your fear of Duncan. He won’t get Liam. You’re a right wonderful mam. He doesn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of getting the court to side with him for custody. Liam has only ever had you.”

  “We are who we are, gra. You know as well as I do that a judge would take one look at me and hand Liam over to the gorger. He’s stable. He has a job.”

  Helena cringed as the echoes of her fears fell from her sister’s lips. “We are stable. We are settled now.” The walls seemed to move in a little closer around her. “And we can get ya a job. We talked about it before, but maybe now it’s time for ya to come work in the kitchens...or if ya wanted somethin’ else, maybe I could talk to Graham and get ya in. Ya could wait tables.”