Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89183 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“I’m so pleased things are going well for you, Malcolm,” she said.
“I never saw this week coming, that’s for sure.” Part of him was afraid to jinx things by talking about how great it was.
“So what do you think you’ll do?” she asked. “Stay on the houseboat and give up the London flat? Do you think you’ll chuck in the job while you’re at it and focus more on carpentry and renovation projects?”
He knew she was asking partly because she was curious about what he was going to do, but also because there was a part of her that clearly longed for the same thing. He still didn’t understand why she wasn’t at least working as an interior designer. And why she always had to be at her husband’s beck and call.
“It’s tempting,” he replied. “The thought of going back to suits and an office indoors… It’s lost its allure after this week.”
She nodded. “Thought as much.”
Just then, her phone rang. Not surprisingly, it was her husband. She looked a little anxious. “I’d better get this.” She walked off, holding the phone to her ear, probably on the receiving end of another laundry list of tasks he demanded she take care of for him.
Malcolm got up, grabbed a beer, and took one over to his father, who was standing in the garden grilling some vegetables to go with the roast. Everyone else was inside, so it was just the two of them.
His father had always been the most quiet and reserved of anybody in the family. He thought before he spoke, and he was quite measured in his actions. Gratefully, he took the beer from Malcolm. “Cheers.”
They clinked and then took long pulls of their drinks.
“How are the cottages coming along? I’d like to help when you get to work on the upstairs bedrooms. Of course, as you know, I have to leave immediately if I get a call.”
“Thanks. We’re actually ahead of schedule, at least if we keep pushing forward at the rate we’ve been going. And no worries, I know that when you get a call, it’s serious, and you’ve got to be there for other train drivers and workers dealing with trauma.” He was so proud of his father for the work he did helping others cope with PTSD.
He studied his father’s face. “I know you probably can’t give me the details, but is everything going all right with the man who drove the train that hit that boy?” Malcolm knew the bare bones of the most recent story. The driver had heroically managed to stop the train before the boy on the tracks was killed, but still, the teenager was in the hospital. Hopefully, he’d recover fully, but the driver would never erase that vision and experience from his mind.
“Yes, I think he’ll be all right. It’ll take time. It always does, but fortunately he has a very supportive wife and extended family.” His father was silent for a moment. “I was lucky too. I was lucky to have all of you when I went through my own traumatic event.”
Malcolm looked down the neck of his beer. Guilt boiled in his chest because he didn’t feel that he’d been there. In fact, he knew he hadn’t. He’d not only run, he’d jumped continents to get away from his father’s pain.
“Malcolm,” his father said, “all these years, I don’t think I ever adequately found the words to thank you for being there for me that day.”
“It was nothing.” Malcolm didn’t deserve praise. He hadn’t done all he could have, should have.
“It was everything. Who knows how much more I would’ve drunk, or how far I would’ve sunk if you hadn’t been there to take that bottle away and to tell me that everything was going to be all right? To listen to me? And not only that, but I want to apologize for placing that burden at your feet. A son should never have to save his father the way you saved me.”
He went on, “And all these years, there’s been a part of me that’s worried that what happened to me affected you badly. But seeing you now, with Josie, I’m so happy you’re happy. She is a wonderful woman. She’s everything you deserve.”
Malcolm had grown increasingly uncomfortable with their conversation. When he’d brought over the beer, he hadn’t thought his father would immediately bring up the past. About that night. “She is great. And I am lucky.” He knew his father was waiting for him to say more, to talk about his feelings about that night back in high school before he’d left the country. But that clenching in his gut was only growing tighter.
He tipped his head back and emptied his bottle. “Can I get you another?”
He could feel his father wanted to say something more. Instead, he simply shook his head. “I’m okay with this one.”