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“Will ye sit here fer a wee while so I can talk ta yer da?” I ask her, crouchin’ down so we’re eye ta eye.
“Aye,” she mumbles in a broken voice filled with sadness and hurt.
I’m not sure how long it will take fer her ta smile again, but I know Ronan and I will both be here fer her, no matter what.
“When we’re done, perhaps there’ll be time fer some ice-cream,” I suggest, and I get a small, weak smile. It may not be her usual joyful giggle, but it’s somethin’.
Ronan and I leave the lounge and head into the dining room where I look up at him. I can tell somethin’ is weighin’ heavy on him.
“What happened?” I ask him.
He runs his fingers through his hair, shakin’ his head as he looks at me with regret clear in his eyes. “We found Orla,” he tells me in a low whisper. “But she wasn’t taken. There wasn’t anythin’ wrong with her.”
“I don’t understand.” I furrow my brows in confusion.
I know they went down south ta get Orla. She told Ronan she had ta leave ta settle a loan, but if she wasn’t bein’ held against her will, then why didn’t she come back.
“She stayin’ with some bastard who’s runnin’ an organisation that deals in ammunition exports. Tye found her online, and when we bombarded the house, we found her happily walkin’ around with this arsehole as if she owns the place.”
“I’m still confused,” I tell him as I shake my head. It doesn’t make sense, because if Orla chose ta be with this man, then it means she walked out knowin’ she might not come back. “What about Aine?”
Even as I ask the question, I have my answer. Orla wasn’t plannin’ on returnin’ fer her daughter. The woman gave birth ta her, raised her fer six years, and then decided it was Rebel’s turn ta be a father. Without givin’ him any warnin’, and without givin’ him time ta get over the initial shock.
“She told me she couldn’t do it anymore. Havin’ Aine and raisin’ her for the last six years was enough fer her. When she decided she wanted ta get married again, she knew the arsehole wouldn’t accept her with a daughter. It’s too much baggage.”
The more he speaks, the more the bile churns in my gut. My stomach is in knots, frustration and anger takin’ hold of me.
“She’s left her,” I mumble, my mind reelin’ at the thought of a mother walkin’ out on a child.
I know how much it hurt me, growin’ up believin’ my parents didn’t want me. Now I know my mother didn’t have a choice, but my father did. Not feelin’ like I was good enough scarred me.
There’s an emptiness that comes with realisin’ yer not wanted. You end up believin’ yer not worth lovin’, and ye go yer whole life believin’ that shite.
“I don’t want her ta know all that, not yet.”
“I don’t even think she’ll fully understand,” I tell him.
I can see Rebel is broken by this, and I don’t blame him. If I were in his position, I would be too. It’s not the fact that he has ta step up as a father, it’s because he knows that it’s hurtin’ his wee girl.
He shakes his head. “No, she won’t. Which is why we’re goin’ta wait until she’s a few years older. I want ta tell her the whole truth eventually, but she’s too young at the moment.”
As intelligent as Aine is fer her age, Rebel is right. It’s not good ta lie ta her, but omittin’ certain specifics might help her ease into her new life with us.
“I don’t expect ye te want te do this,” Rebel says as he watches me. There’s fear lacin’ his tone.
I reach up and cup his face in my hands, and the soft stubble of his beard tickles my palms. I offer him a small smile, one that tells him all I want ta say, but without words.
“Callia, I can’t—”
“Ye’re not askin’ me ta do anythin’ I don’t want ta do,” I tell him, breakin’ into his speech, “This is exactly where I want ta be. And nothin’ ye say is goin’ta change that. Aine is a beautiful wee girl, and I’ll be here fer her as long as she wants me around. It’s not easy ta go through life without someone special ta talk ta, and even though I’m not her real mother, I can be the confidante she’ll need as she gets older.”
Rebel’s mouth pops open, but no words come out. The surprise is clear in his expression. I didn’t think I’d be here, right now, promisin’ ta be a surrogate mother, but this feels right. I want ta do this, and nothin’ will change that.
“Are ye sure?” he asks nervously, and I offer him a smile of encouragement. It’s the only thing I can do.
