The Christmas Sisters

“You will not.” In other circumstances Suzanne might have smiled. “You will take your coats and go for a walk.”

Hannah looked bemused. “It’s snowing.”

“Then go to the Glensay Inn and have a drink by the fire. You’re only together once a year. I’m sure you’ll find plenty to talk about.”

The three of them filed out of the room, leaving her with Luke and Stewart.

She looked at her husband, who had supported her through all the difficult times that had followed the accident. “Stay,” she said, and Stewart closed the door and walked back into the room.

“Wasn’t thinking of leaving.” He grabbed a bottle of single malt and set it down in the middle of the table along with three glasses.

Luke pushed his plate away and settled back in his chair.

He could have walked out, Suzanne thought. He’d been subjected to hostility, accusations and multiple questions, but he was still sitting here.

He had strength, both physical and moral.

His parents would have been proud.

Luke pushed the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows and leaned forward. “You have questions, I’m sure. There are things you want to know.”

“I want to know about you.” Suzanne couldn’t believe he was sitting at her kitchen table, right across from her. “I’ve thought about you often over the years. I wondered how you were doing, and whether your life had been destroyed by what happened.” She’d worried and worried, and mixed in with the worry was the guilt. Always the guilt. It had gnawed at her gut like acid.

Stewart sloshed whiskey into the glasses. “He doesn’t look destroyed from where I’m sitting. Drink, Luke?”

“You think I’d say no to a single malt? Particularly that particular single malt.”

It was all so normal. So relaxed.

Suzanne watched as Luke lifted the glass and drank. She saw the movement of his throat and the glint of fire in his eyes.

She realized she’d continued to think of him as a little boy. Orphaned. Vulnerable. Broken.

But there was nothing broken about the man sitting across from her. He hadn’t hidden from life, he’d embraced every second. He radiated strength and energy. He was vital and alive, and seeing him so whole and healthy healed a few more of the cracks in her heart.

“Posy says you climbed Rainier.” She couldn’t imagine it. She’d never wanted to set foot on the mountain again after what happened.

“Oh yeah.” His smile was a bright light in a dark tunnel. “I laid that ghost to rest when I was eighteen.”

Not scared,

or even scarred. Not damaged.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said. “I want to know how you grew up in Manhattan but ended up a climber just like your parents. I want to know all of it.”

It was time to stop letting her mind and her conscience paint a picture of his life. Time for reality.

Time for the truth.

22

Posy

“Well,” Beth said, plonking herself down at the usual table near to the fire.

“Well,” Hannah said, lowering herself more carefully.

“We were trying to protect her and she threw us out.” Posy gestured across the bar to Aidan. “Can you believe that?”