He winces as if I struck him, and I’m instantly remorseful. I open my mouth to apologize, but I don’t know what to say.
“I wish,” he whispers. Then to my shock and horror, he bends down to me. My heart hammers, and my mouth goes dry. I’ve never been so close to him, and he smells a hundred times better than I imagined, strong, masculine, and powerful. Is he going to kiss me? Oh, God, right here on the lawn with everyone here?
I’m stock still as if frozen in ice when his lips brush my cheek. My skin tingles where we touch. He whispers in my ear, his voice low and deep, sending shivers down my spine. “Happy birthday, Fiona. Open it alone, please.”
Then he turns and leaves. I watch him go, a part of my heart going with him. I look down at the little gift-wrapped package in my hand, and when I look up again, he’s gone.
“He moved heaven and Earth to be here tonight, you know,” comes a voice from behind me.
I look to see Sheena standing behind me.
“What do you mean?”
“He’s on his way to an international job.”
I swallow hard.
Why is Keenan sending everyone I love away?
“Where?” I ask, trying to be brave and not cry.
“Not sure,” she says. “It’s often confidential, isn’t it? All I know is that he’s got a job to do. Was supposed to leave night before last, but he told Keenan he wouldn’t go and miss your birthday.”
Well, now I feel like a total jerk.
“Oh.” Such a small word for such big feelings.
“What’s that?” she asks, gesturing to the package in my hand.
I look forlornly at the package. “A gift from Lachlan. He wants me to open it later.” I put it in my pocket. It feels hot and heavy like a burning coal. I’m vividly aware of its presence, preoccupied with the thought of a gift from him.
He touched this. It was in his pocket, just a moment ago. It’s for me.
“Anyhow, came to get you for cake. The little ones are getting antsy.” Music filters through speakers, a slow waltz that makes my heart ache.
“Right, then,” I say with a smile. “Thank you.”
We walk back under the tent.
“I thought it’d be different, Sheena.” If I can’t confide in my older sister, who can I?
“What?”
I sigh. “Being eighteen.”
“You mean Lachlan.” She’s not one to beat around the bush.
“Aye. I mean… he’s always been a bit distant, but I thought—well, I mean—” I bite my lip.
Way to botch things up, Fiona.
“I thought now that I’m eighteen…” my voice trails off.
“Ah, lass, don’t you see,” Sheena says, taking my hand with a sad smile. “It’s because you’re eighteen. He’s a man of honor, Fiona. He abides by a code he’d die before he’d break. And no way on God’s green earth he’d have touched you when you were still a child.”
“Still a child?” I ask. “Sheena, nothing changed overnight.”
I purse my lips and shake my head. This is preposterous.
She sighs sadly. “Not so, love. Everything changed last night. Now here you are, with nothing to hold him back from you but his own convictions.”
“Well that’s bollox,” I say hotly.
She laughs out loud. “Be patient, Fiona. Good things come to those who wait.”
“Never my strong suit,” I mutter. Isn’t she full of platitudes and clichés today? Bloody hell.
I go through the motions of eating cake and unwrapping presents. I try to enjoy the party as best I can, but my mind is elsewhere.
I sneak away at the first possible opportunity. After cake and presents, I quietly make my way to the greenhouse when the party’s still in full swing. I can’t wait any longer to see what he got me.
My hands tremble when I unwrap it. There’s a black velvet box beneath the paper. I can’t breathe. I’m frozen in place, staring at the beautiful box, before I can move. I’ve imagined an engagement ring, and in my teen fantasies even scrawled my name in diaries, only to rip them out and tear them into tiny little pieces.
Fiona McCarthy
Fiona McCarthy
Fiona McCarthy
Finally, curiosity kills me, and I slowly open the lid.
I gasp when a stream of light from the window gleams on the locket nestled against black velvet. It’s a rose gold oval, heavy in my palm, carved with intricate Celtic knots. Holding my breath, with trembling fingers, I open the locket.
Inside is a picture of me. But it isn’t today’s me. I’m just a teen. There’s nothing else.