Page 3 of The Sweetest Cruelty: Hudson (A Sawyer Brothers Story #1)

The whole day had been emotionally draining, and I still didn’t feel any closure.

Not even after saying my goodbyes. And why?

Because my mother had been ripped away from me too early.

That wasn’t the way it was supposed to be.

What about the kids my mother taught in school, and how she looked after Mrs Smith, our incontinent neighbour?

There was also all the food in the freezer that I’d never be able to eat it all by myself.

The random, mundane thoughts that went through my mind during those first few weeks were bizarre.

After the funeral, my father had to return to the States. His school was closed for the summer, but he needed to get back to make changes at home in preparation for my arrival.

He had left me with Patricia and Mark temporarily. And I had missed him.

Richard called me via Zoom every day. Sometimes, we’d stay on call and not say much, but the lines of communication were open. He tried to get me excited about the move, telling me all about the community and how many kids there were on his street around my age.

He also spoke about school and how I would attend the local one where he was the principal.

I had attempted to sound enthused, but a huge part of me wanted to remain in England.

Maybe to live with Patricia and Mark permanently, but it wouldn’t have worked out.

They had never wanted kids of their own.

At one time in my life, I wouldn’t have changed anything. Now, if I could, I would change everything .

After another hour, the plane started its descent and eventually landed, and the ‘fasten your seatbelt’ signs went off.

Thankfully, I didn’t have to wait around for another flight.

I’d boarded the plane at Heathrow in London, had changed at Washington Dulles, and had finally landed in Warwick, Rhode Island.

The cabin wasn’t overly warm due to climate control, but my tee was still sticking to my back with sweat.

I put it down to my nerves, considering I had no idea what the next few weeks of my life would look like.

It was just a blank page and one I so wanted to fill.

I was a planner and craved routine. It took my mind off what life without my mother felt like. Pretty shit, I’m not going to lie.

It took another twenty minutes before we were allowed off the plane and into the terminal, and after a quick trip to the toilets, aka restrooms , I went to wait for my luggage.

I only had one case to tide me over until the company my father engaged shipped the rest of my stuff.

He’d used an international moving organisation to transport the bulkier items. I hadn’t kept much furniture, just some priceless bits and bobs that reminded me of Mum.

The stuff I’d decided against keeping had been sold on eBay.

There was only one terminal at T F Green airport, which would at least ensure I didn’t get lost.

After spending what felt like ages in baggage claim, I slowly went through customs and into the arrivals lounge.

Part of me hoped they found a valid reason to rescind my visa and send me home, but no such luck.

I followed a row of people who varied between tourists, airport staff and people who possibly travelled for work.

My father, Richard, was waiting for me, holding a sign with my name on and clutching a large pink WELCOME balloon. His face lit up as soon as he spotted me, and we both gave each other a nervous wave. At least I wasn’t the only one bricking it.

I took the balloon, and he pulled me in for a hug. This one felt awkward, but I went with it.

“I’m so glad you’re here, sweetheart,” he whispered.

“Me too,” I replied, even though I wasn’t.

As we made our way along the corridor and out into a large, glassed lobby area, Richard asked how my flight was, and we embarked with chit chat.

Dad was super pleased I was there and had made that extra effort to ensure I was comfortable.

I knew I should have been more grateful, but I couldn’t help it; I was still screaming inside .

As we left the building, the sun shone bright from an overly blue sky. It was clear with only a few clouds, and the gentle breeze cooled my cheeks. I felt myself squinting, not used to it being so clear.

Over the last few weeks, London had been as bleak as my mood.

At least I could look forward to some better weather for what was left of the summer.

I had Googled the temperatures I could expect in Rhode Island towards the end of August, and I had not been disappointed; I wasn’t a sun worshipper by any means, but I liked it warm.

The calm weather was at odds with the busy terminal, and I was relieved to be out in the fresh air again.

My father and I arrived beside his car. It was a white Toyota Corolla, and I climbed into the passenger side as he placed my suitcase, bag, and balloon in the back.

I kept my handbag with me, gripping it like a life vest. It contained all my identification and Mum’s papers.

Around my neck, I wore a gold Tree of Life pendant, which had been her gift to me for my sixteenth.

The fact that I received it on the morning before her death made it even more precious.

Inhaling, I waited for my father to join me. The car windows had been left open to allow the air to circulate, which I was thankful for. I wasn’t the best traveller, especially in stuffy cars, and air conditioning made my eyes water.

As Dad pulled the car out of the parking space he had used, we had to stop to allow a stream of passengers over the black and white crossing. They resembled ants, all following each other in a long chain, but instead of carrying food, they dragged suitcases.

Once we were clear of the airport, we followed the airport road, which connected to the main route we were to travel on.

I asked how long it would take to get to the house and if I should watch out for any famous landmarks.

When I mentioned the word motorway, my father corrected me and said that the highways in the States were usually referred to as freeways.

It looked like the motorway back home, but maybe a bit wider and carried much more traffic.

My father then explained that the journey to Newport took around half an hour and that we would take the picturesque route with bridges that crossed the ocean. I couldn’t wait to see the sea. I wondered how far away Dad’s house was from the beach.

After around twenty minutes into the journey, my father steered the conversation towards the inevitable .

“I won’t be so insensitive as to ask how you feel. Overwhelmed , I imagine. But we will make this work, Molly. I know we’ve drifted apart over the last year, and I blame myself for that, but I intend to do everything to make your move here as comfortable as possible.”

“I know you will,” I reassured him.

A lump formed in my throat at the thought of having ‘the talk’ so soon. I supposed a discussion in the car was better than complete silence. What else did we have to talk about if not my tragic situation or the scenery?

I decided to continue and meet him halfway. It would be better for both of us if we started on the right foot. The move had to work as I had no other options.

“I’m also going to do my bit. To make this work, I mean. There are two of us in this relationship, and I know I’ve also been distant lately. What’s that saying? Life gets in the way?”

Richard smiled and flicked me a glance before twisting back to the windscreen.

“Absolutely. Distance was a main factor, and living in different time zones doesn’t help.

Now that barrier has been broken, we can make a good go of it.

” He then took a deep breath, and I could see from his expression that he did not find the following words easy.

“I’m not a man who wears his heart on his sleeve, but I love you, Mols.

I always have, and I want you to be happy.

It will take time, and I won’t rush to build on our relationship.

I’m also not the type to smother, as Rachel probably explained.

But I am here for you. I will give you as much space as you need so you can find your feet.

And when you need me, I’ll be there. I promise.

” My belly tightened at the mention of my mother’s given name.

His speech did little to stop that ache, but I found his words soothing.

I trusted Richard and knew he would do everything to help me settle.

But maybe nothing would be enough. I was a home bunny.

I had never had any ambitious intentions of moving away from the area where I had lived my entire life, from the village where I was born.

I wasn’t like some of my other friends who dreamed of getting out of dodge and going away to college or university; quite the opposite.

Depending on my exams, I would have applied to a local college and lived at home during my studies.

And now, I was facing an extreme version of that and had moved to live in an entirely different country.

The thought of any new high school would have been daunting, especially one in the United States.

When I hadn’t replied, my father added, “I mean it, Mols. Whatever you need. ”

Some of the tension in the car drained away. His use of my old nickname made me feel warm inside. I stopped fiddling with the fraying material on one of the rips in my jeans.

“That’s great, Dad, but I’m not sure what I need right now. Everything has happened so fast.”

My father steered along the road towards a second bridge, which was signposted Jamestown, his voice becoming wistful. “Time is the only healer in all things, Molly. You need to give yourself that. Baby steps, as they say.”

“Thank you.”

Clearing his throat, Richard added, “And if you need to talk about your mom, I’ll be there for that too. She was an amazing lady.” I knew he, too, found her death difficult.