First Comes Love by Frankie Duncan

Author:Frankie Duncan [Duncan, Frankie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-11-15T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

The sound of the birds woke Libby from her sleep. She lay eyes closed, quiet. As she stretched, an exquisite ache filled her body. She reached out her arm in front of her but found only space. Cold empty sheets. Her eyes opened with a start, lifting her head off the pillow. It was light outside. She stilled herself, trying to listen for movement in the cottage. She heard nothing but birdsong. Quickly she pulled on a top and made her way through to the kitchen hoping to find Brogan but the kitchen was empty. Only Max slept curled in his bed by the door. A handwritten note with her name at the top lay on the table.

Libby,

Thank you for last night. I couldn’t sleep and I managed to get a ticket for the 9.05 a.m. flight this morning.

I’ll call you later.

Brogan xx

She stared at the note. She was so tired she hadn’t even felt Brogan get up. The kitchen clock with its loud ticking read 8.45 a.m. She went through the room where Brogan had left her things. Many of the clothes she had brought down still lay on the bed. The clothes she lent her last night were gone as was the bag in which they had brought down to the cottage. She picked up a blue cashmere jumper inhaling its scent. She was hoping for Brogan but there was just the charred acrid smell of smoke.

A jumble of emotions filled her. She wanted to be there for her, to help her, but she didn’t know how. She felt Max’s wet nose against her leg. She put her hand down, rubbing his ears.

“How are we going to help her, Max?” She bent down allowing Max to lick her nose. “We will start by getting the cottage sorted and getting these clothes cleaned. Come on then, Max, we have a busy day ahead.”

She’d called her father last night and told him about the fire. He had thankfully said he would sort out the insurance side of things, for which Libby was very grateful. It was an enormous weight off her mind. She popped on the kettle, and made Max his breakfast. Sitting down at the table, she started to write a list. As she placed her pen on the nice clean blank piece of paper her eye once again caught Brogan’s note. Her mind went over the words “Thank you for last night.” For Brogan was this just a one-night thing? She felt her heart tighten. Had she been so stupid as to think this was more? Then catching herself she stopped that train of thought, chastising herself for being so selfish. This wasn’t about her.

Poor Brogan was sitting on a flight about to taxi down the runway so she could arrange the funeral for her last living relative. She was dealing with the grief and everything from the past that it would no doubt drag up and here Libby was thinking only of herself. With a resolute nod, she started writing.

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