The Skye Collection, page 16
Getting the feeling that this was something Reid was possibly struggling with or on the verge of facing made her angry at herself for not spotting the signs sooner. His wife had left him, so he was grieving the loss of his marriage. It wasn’t a death, but it was still life-changing and traumatic. It was still a loss.
She could see it now. His brusque manner was a way of keeping people at a distance in order to protect himself. Or perhaps a method which helped him to deter people from taking the time to ask questions. And as soon as he realised he had let his guard down, even slightly, he did everything he could to build it up again, just as he had with her. She wondered if he had anyone to really talk to. Although, there was no doubt, she would be the last person he would speak to now. He seemed determined to suffer in silence, and alone; something she was aware many men tended to do. Perhaps they saw it as a weakness if they admitted they needed help? She suddenly wanted to shout from the rooftops that it didn’t matter your gender, your age, your sexual preference, your race, et cetera, it was okay to not be okay.
She thought back to her sessions with her therapist, Michael, a man in his late fifties who’d gone into counselling after his own experiences had taken him to the darkest of places and he too had been pushed to take action… Juliette had sat, curled up in a ball on a comfy beige couch, wearing tattered old jogging bottoms and a faded Cambridge hoodie that had belonged to Laurie. Her hair was scraped back into an unbrushed ponytail and she had seen just how pale and gaunt her face looked as she’d caught sight of her reflection on the way in.
Michael had sat opposite in an armchair. His grey hair and beard both neatly trimmed. His legs crossed and his attention fully focused on her. ‘So, tell me, Jules, what have you done this week? I know how much you love reading, have you read anything new?’
‘I can’t…’ She’d sighed. ‘I can’t seem to focus on anything. My attention span is just…’ She’d stared out of the window.
He’d left a long silence before asking, ‘And how are you sleeping?’
She’d turned her attention back to Michael, her brow crumpled, her voice almost monotone. ‘I doze mainly. I’m exhausted, but… it’s like my brain won’t switch off. I keep replaying things that Laurie and I did together. Replaying times when we were so in love. So happy. And then I remind myself that I’m probably never going to be that happy again.’ She’d gritted her teeth and clenched her fists in her lap. ‘That if I’d made him go and see his doctor sooner, if I’d insisted he got checked out… Then maybe I’d still have him. And then…’ Her chin had trembled. ‘And then I start thinking that there’s no point trying to sleep. That if I wasn’t alive any more, none of this would even matter.’
‘But you’re still here, Jules,’ Michael had said with a warm smile. ‘You want to be here. Why do you think that is? And I’m not being glib when I ask. I genuinely want to know what keeps you going on. What makes you fight this?’
She had lifted her chin and tears had spilled over onto her cheeks. ‘Because deep down I know I’m loved. I know I have people around me who care for me and I don’t want to hurt them.’
‘Okay, that’s good. But let’s just consider what you said before. You’re feeling as though Laurie’s death was somehow your fault, would that be right?’
Juliette had closed her eyes and nodded as a sob left her chest. It had only been a matter of months, but the pain was still as raw as if it happened a matter of hours before. She couldn’t form words. She couldn’t lift her chin. The guilt she was carrying weighed her down like lead resting on her shoulders. She wanted the ground to open and absorb her. She wanted to just fade into nothing.
But then, what about Mum… Dad… Dex… Millie…?
She heard Michael shuffle in his chair. When she’d opened her eyes, she found he was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees. ‘Jules, Laurie’s illness was not your fault. You know this deep down. Nothing you could’ve done would have made any difference. What did make a difference was how you loved him, how you looked after him, how happy you made him. Those are the things you did. What you didn’t do is cause his cancer. And you couldn’t have pushed him to see a doctor earlier because the symptoms weren’t there until the illness was at a critical stage. But you did make his life worth living. And you know he survived longer than the prognosis and that was down to you. You gave him hope. You gave him something to fight for. And he did fight. But he knew he wouldn’t get well again. He knew it was only a matter of time. He told you he’d accepted that, didn’t he?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he ever once appear to blame you? Did he ever, even in anger, tell you that any of this was your fault?’
‘No. He… he didn’t get angry.’ She’d smiled. ‘He just wanted to love me right until the end.’
‘So, the only person who appears to blame you…’
‘Is me.’
‘Now, turn the tables. Take a different perspective, as if you were a bystander and you were looking in on this situation. Would you blame the person in your shoes?’
Silence.
‘As an outsider looking in on this situation, what would you say to the person in your shoes? Be completely honest, this is a safe place, remember.’
She’d thought about things for a moment and tried to step out of her own shoes into those of someone watching this situation unfold as he had suggested. She lifted her chin. ‘If I was observing… I’d say… you didn’t do this. You did all you could, but you couldn’t have changed the ending. So, don’t feel guilty and don’t let it weigh you down. Think of the happy times. Because there were so, so many happy times.’ More tears had spilled over and trickled down her damp cheeks. ‘Think of the love you shared and how special it was to have known him. To have been loved by him.’
Michael had sat up straight once more. ‘Can you turn that outward dialogue inwards, Jules? I don’t mean right this second. But can you try, until we next meet, to remind yourself of what you’ve just told that person you were addressing just then?’
‘I… I can try.’
‘Take as long as you need. But keep saying it. Make it your mantra. And keep focusing on the things he did that made you laugh. Things you did that made him laugh. All the things that made you fall in love with each other in the first place. Those are the things to cling to.’
Looking back now, she was grateful that this experience had helped her to deal with her grief and to release herself from the shackles of the guilt she’d been carrying around since Laurie’s passing. But she hated that she hadn’t had that foresight to recognise the symptoms in Reid.
Luckily for Juliette, when she had stopped eating, stopped washing and was barely functioning, she’d had people around her who insisted she sought help; when she had, it was as if a light had been switched on. She wasn’t one to pour her heart out to people, except for Laurie, but having a therapist just listen to her was the beginning of climbing out of the darkest place she had ever been. She hoped that Reid was on the cusp of a similar breakthrough and she vowed that, whilst she was here, at least, she would do whatever she could to help.
‘Good morning, hen. How are you? Enjoying your day off?’ Juliette turned to meet Morag’s warm expression, but hers clearly didn’t shine in return as Morag sat down quickly. ‘Whatever’s the matter, Jules? You look like you’re on the verge of tears.’
Juliette sniffed and dabbed at her eyes with her free hand. ‘Oh, I’ve just been putting my foot in it. I seem to be a bloody expert these days. Especially where Reid MacKinnon is concerned.’
‘Fancy coming for a cuppa and you can tell me all about it?’
Juliette shook her head. ‘Oh, goodness no, I’ll be fine, honestly. I’m not going to keep you on your day off.’
Morag stood and waved a dismissive hand. ‘Och, pish. Come on. Kenneth’s in the shop today, so I’m free as a bird. And it looks like you might need a friendly ear.’
Despite her words to the contrary, Juliette was relieved to have some company. And as Morag linked her arm, she felt a wave of affection for the woman who had made her so welcome.
Once they were seated at the kitchen table with a fresh pot of Earl Grey before them, Morag spoke. ‘Out with it. What’s he done now?’
Juliette cringed. ‘It’s not what Reid has done. This one’s all on me. He was his usual self and I took offence and told him some home truths. Now I feel sick and wish I was at home in Mistford.’
‘Oh, it cannae be that bad, hen. Tell me all about it.’
Juliette relayed the way she had advised Evin about the talent show and how she had commented to Reid about his worries, and how Reid had, quite rightly, told her she was interfering in things she knew nothing about.
Once she was finished, she rested her head in her hands as tears pricked at her eyes, guilt eating away at her. She wished she could turn back the clock and start this whole thing all over again. From day one and her first encounter with him. Sticking her nose in other people’s business wasn’t something she’d ever done before, so why now? Why Reid? The night they had danced together, she had felt so alive, so giddy. She couldn’t deny she had enjoyed it; enjoyed him. But then, why had she been so harsh today? It was clear he was in pain and the last thing she would ever deliberately do is hurt someone. In addition, she wasn’t a single parent, so had no right to judge or to speak ill of someone who was. Her heart squeezed when she thought about the expression on Reid’s face after her series of unnecessary and cruel words.
Morag sighed. ‘I think you’re being too harsh on yoursel’, dear. I think you reacted just how I would have, if I’m honest. I know he’s been through a lot, but you don’t know all the details, no one does, because he won’t talk about it. And you cannae help what you don’t know.’
‘Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to anyone, Morag. I don’t want to add gossip to the list of reasons he hates me.’
Morag held up both hands. ‘I give you my word. And you’re not gossiping. That infers you’re making things up for the drama, and clearly this has affected you. But I think perhaps he could use a friend right now. And I think perhaps you might be the perfect candidate.’
Juliette shook her head. ‘There’s no way he would want that now. I’ve blown it.’
‘Oh, I think you may be wrong there. I know the Reid MacKinnon from before Kate happened to him. He was such a caring man. He’d give the food from his plate if he thought someone was going hungry. And that boy is his life now. Give it a day or so and see what happens. But I think he may see the error of his own ways.’
‘It was me who was in the wrong, Morag. I take full responsibility.’
‘If you want my opinion, I think Reid has a lot to answer for too. But from what you’ve said about your own experiences, I think he will come to that conclusion himself. But, whatever you do, don’t go running back to Mistford, eh? You’d be missed.’
Juliette smiled. ‘Thank you. I won’t… not yet anyway.’
17
A few days passed and Juliette got the feeling that Reid was avoiding coming down to the village. With Evin away, she wondered if he had maybe lost his anchor. It seemed the child was the only thing keeping him going on some days. She hadn’t seen him, even from a distance, but how could she blame him? She had been weighing up the pros and cons of going to see him. Perhaps she could help? From her own experiences, there were so many books she could recommend.
During the evenings, she spent time researching the best books on mental health that were specifically aimed at men, seeing as it was a fairly taboo subject for many. It sounded as if Reid subscribed to the “shut up and get on with it” mentality which helped no one. She dreamed of a day when such matters were discussed as casually and easily as chickenpox or the flu.
Eventually, she narrowed her book choices down to two. She hovered her finger over the purchase button several times and chickened out at the last minute. He already thought she was an interfering busybody and she wasn’t going to help her situation at all by adding fuel to that particular fire.
She questioned her reasons for caring so much. As he had pointed out, she was only going to be here temporarily, so it didn’t really affect her, going forward. Except she knew, deep down, that, for some strange reason, it did. Just knowing a tiny part of what he might be going through made her desperate to help him. She wouldn’t wish that cloud of darkness and the accompanying feeling of despair on her worst enemy. It was like being at the bottom of a well, unable to see daylight and having no energy to climb out. If she could help him avoid going there, she had a duty to do so.
When she had been going through depression, she had lost count of the number of people who had told her to cheer up or look on the bright side. She had rapidly realised some sad truths at the time: first and foremost, that what many people don’t seem to understand about depression is that it isn’t a life choice. You can’t simply snap out of it or just decide one day to be happy. You can’t just cheer up and look on the bright side, because when you’re in the depths of hopelessness there is no bright side. When you’re looking around and wondering if the world would be a better place without you in it, you can’t count your blessings and be glad to be alive. If only it was that easy.
If Reid was anywhere close to feeling as low as she once had, she knew he needed help before it was too late.
Juliette’s role at the Lifeboat House Museum continued to be an education. Each spare moment she had was spent reading the displays and getting to know all about the place her mother spent her childhood. With each visitor to the museum came a different personal story and reason for them being there, whether it was pure intrigue, a family connection or just passing through. She was loving it for the most part. But she wondered how Reid was and what he was up to. Was he painting perhaps? She hoped so. After seeing his work, she would hate to think of such a talent being stifled by sadness and loneliness. She was still trying to pluck up the courage to make the first step and visit him. But her behaviour the last time she had spoken to him was still in the forefront of her mind. What if he told her to get lost?
Wednesday evening was warm and, once the museum was closed, she ate a quick dinner and decided to go for another walk. It was becoming a routine for her after her nightly phone calls home. She walked towards the little church beside the field and found a peaceful memorial garden at the opposite side. An abundance of wildflowers surrounded stones and plaques and the constant droning of bees merrily carrying on with their work resonated around her. She wandered around reading the gravestones, looking for hints of her mother’s family name and found a couple of McLeods buried there. It was a balmy evening and she was grateful for the large trees that afforded a little shade. There was a wrought-iron bench placed against the wall for contemplation. She took a seat and sat in silence for a while.
‘Oh, Laurie, I wish you were here. There are so many things I’ve needed to talk to you about since I arrived in Glentorrin. Funny stories mostly. But there are other things too… I’m terrified of betraying your memory, you see. I miss you so much, but I know I have to move on, and I think that’s the scariest part. I… I felt things for Reid when we danced, you see. Please, forgive me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt a man’s arms around me, and it felt good. But that makes me hate myself. Maybe that’s why I was so quick to snap at him? I don’t know. But I regret it so much. I want to help him, but after how I’ve behaved, I’m worried he’ll just turn me away. You were always my voice of reason. You always had solutions. But this is one thing you can’t help me with. If you were here, I wouldn’t even be thinking like this. But you’re not here. You never will be. However hard it is, Laurie, I have to accept that you’re gone, and that I don’t want to be alone.’ She sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment, listening to the birdsong and letting the warm rays of the sun warm her skin through the gaps in the leaves. ‘Anyway, you’d love this place, Laurie. I think it’s just how you expected Skye to be. Beautiful, peaceful, healing. I know I’m going to miss it when it’s time to go home.’
‘Jules? Are you okay?’ She jumped and turned to see Evin and Chewie standing further along the wall in the shade of the trees.
‘Oh, Evin, you’re back from your mum’s!’ She beamed at her young friend.
He glanced around her in search of something. ‘Who were you talking to? A ghost?’
She laughed lightly. ‘Not really. I was just talking to Laurie. My husband.’
Evin’s eyes widened and he looked around eagerly. ‘Oh! Where is he?’
She cringed, this was something that hadn’t come up before and she wasn’t sure how to explain. ‘Oh, no, erm… he’s… he died.’
Evin crumpled his brow. ‘So, you were talking to a ghost?’
She shook her head and smiled. ‘No. Just to his memory, I suppose.’
Evin walked towards her and Chewie followed obediently. ‘But he can’t answer you, can he?’ The look in his eyes was a combination of fear and intrigue.
‘Sadly, no. But I find it helps to talk to him sometimes. Even though he can’t talk back.’ She shrugged in search of a fitting explanation. ‘It makes me feel closer to him.’
Evin pondered her words. ‘Oh. I didn’t know you were supposed to do that when people died.’ He fell silent and tilted his face up to the sun. After a few moments, he returned his attention to her. ‘Sometimes I miss my grandma, and I wish I could talk to her. Especially when something bad or good or funny has happened. Dad doesn’t always have the time to listen to me going on and on.’ He rolled his eyes and grinned to make light of his comment, but Juliette felt for the boy.
