Chapter 13

I was rushing to the airport. I ran through the doors and made my way through the crowds because I was supposed to meet Patrick before his plane took off. A quick glance down at my watch told me that if I didn't hurry I'd miss him. The sounds of the announcements and the hustle and bustle of the people made my head hurt.

Finally I reached his gate and to my horror found him and Rhonda in a passionate embrace. She was wearing a tiny, see-through, pink lacy nightie thing with black thigh highs and four-inch heels. I was in shock. At that moment I felt my blood boiling. My heart was pounding...if only I had a gun. I decided not to scream but rather to confront them calmly then I would slap his wretched, handsome face.

As I approached he was kissing her neck and groping her while she clung to him and called out his name with her silky, American voice. I poked him in the back because he probably wouldn't hear me over her moans. Again I poked but he didn't react to me. This is ridiculous. I shook him hard and then kicked him but still it was if I was not even there. There's no way I'm letting this go, so I tried to squeeze between them. Then I heard an announcement, "Lizzie Morrison, please come to gate 6, please." I don't understand. "Lizzie?"

"Lizzie," my mother said, shaking my shoulder, trying to awaken me. "Wake up, Lizzie, you're having a bad dream."

"What?" I asked, rubbing my eyes, still confused.

"You were dreaming," she replied as I lay there shaking my head and trying to rid myself of that awful image of Patrick and that Rhonda.

Mother returned to bed and I looked at the clock. The time was 4:02. Laying there I tossed and turned a bit and sighed, unable to return to sleep. I would call Patrick but didn't want to wake him. I got up finally, fetched my robe and slippers, headed to the kitchen, and put on a kettle for tea.

I told myself that I was being ridiculous. I couldn't wait to see him. He'd be over later to have tea with us.

All in all, things had been perfect. He came and saw us whenever he was not on assignment. Whenever we're together wherever Patrick goes, women's eyes inevitably follow; both young and old. He didn't notice.

When he's gone; it had been about 3 times already this month; I missed him something awful. He'd be gone for days at a time. Even Frankie misses him.

Tomorrow will be our one month anniversary. We planned to spend the day together; just Patrick and I. He's going to show me his home. He said he hasn't yet because he wanted it to look perfect for me-being that he's a bachelor and all. I could hardly wait to see it. I wanted to know all there was to know about this man. I'd been looking forward to it all week.

I pictured his handsome face smiling at me and began to feel sleepy again. So, I turned off the kettle and returned back to my bed and fell into a dreamless slumber.

Everything was perfect. Well almost perfect. We saw each other everyday in between assignments. I was crazy about her...and Frankie. The more time I spent with him I couldn't help but be resentful of what Frankie's father had done to him. He's dead now, and I had to get over it same as everyone else. Spending time with Frankie was great. It's like seeing things again through the eyes of a child.

It's been a month since our first date and as I walked up the steps to Lizzie's I felt a little apprehensive. Tomorrow is our one month anniversary and we had planned on spending the day together. Before I knew it, my plans had been changed.

I rang the doorbell and exhaled as I waited for an answer. Lizzie opened the door. God, she looks beautiful standing there in her grey sweats. She's a natural beauty, so she is.

"Patrick, hello. I wasn't expecting you until later." She smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

I handed her my "customary" single rose, feeling like a heel.

She lead me inside and I stopped her. She gave me a puzzled look.

"What's wrong, Patrick?"

"Uh, Lizzie...well…I …er," I stammered, my eyes turned down to the ground. I hate this.

Lizzie's stance changed. All of a sudden she had hands on her hips.

"Well, go on then."

"Lizzie...about tomorrow...I-"

"For Christ's sake, Patrick, what?!" Her expression changed to that of annoyance.

"Well, Rhonda called…" I began at which Lizzie rolled her eyes, "and I've a job out in Ireland. My plane leaves at 3."

Lizzie looked as though she's restraining herself. She closed her eyes and sighed. "How long will you be gone this time?"

I winced. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. "5 days," I reply in a low voice, my eyes turned down again.

"Christ, Patrick!" she shouted, then came outside with me and slammed the door behind her.

"I know, Lizzie. I didn't plan this," I told her feeling the need to defend myself.

"We were supposed to go out tomorrow. It's our one month anniversary."

"I know. It's not like I want to," I told her.

Lizzie stood there, arms folded. "So then, don't."

"I have to, Lizzie."

"No, ya don't, Patrick. We hate it when you're gone. You take off at a moment's notice. Whenever Rhonda calls, you go."

"What can I say, Lizzie? This is how I make my living."

"You're smart, Patrick, do something else then," she said evenly.

This made me angry. Photography was my life. It was the thing that got me through Annabel's death. When there was nothing else, there was always my camera.

"This is me, Lizzie," I told her, my voice starting to rise. "This is what I do."

"Then can't ya do it here, Patrick?"

"We've been over this, Lizzie. Freelance pays more and I'm not going to end up as some damn wedding photographer! That's not me!" I shouted.

Lizzie looked hurt. I'd never shouted at her before and I hated myself for doing it. I really didn't want to go and she was making it harder.

"Look, Patrick, if this is going to work..." Lizzie trailed off. Tears started to form in her eyes. "Frankie and I need someone to be here. Not off in foreign places all over the world with God knows who doing God knows what!"

Ouch. That hurt. She didn't trust me. I thought she was over the "Rhonda" thing. I thought she knew that...well, I was going to tell her tomorrow that I loved her. I couldn't admit it then but I'd fallen in love with her that night at the beach and now...she didn't trust me. I'd never done anything to make her feel that way. For me, there was only Lizzie. Period. End of story.

My voice softened. "Ya know what I do, Lizzie," I told her quietly. "I take photographs, that's what I do." She was silent, her eyes refusing to face me.

This was stupid. So I tried to embrace her but she pushed me away.

"I think ya should leave now," she said with tears in her eyes.

"Lizzie, please can we talk about this?" I pleaded.

"Please leave!" she screamed at me, her face red now and sobbing.

My heart sunk. In her state of mind I know there will be no talking about it. So, I nodded, turned, and walked away.

The doorbell rang and I curiously went to check the peephole. It's my Patrick. He's stood there holding a single rose for me. I smiled because he did this every time he sees me. My heart melted. I couldn't help but wonder why he was here.

"Patrick, hello, I wasn't expecting you until later." I kissed him on the cheek. He looked nervous, guilty even. He handed me my rose and I put it up to my nose to smell. I grabbed his arm to lead him inside but he stopped me. "What's wrong, Patrick?" I asked him.

"Uh Lizzie...well…I…er," he stammered.

Uh oh. I had a bad feeling about this. Bits and pieces of my nightmare crept their way back into my mind like big ugly spiders. "Well, go on then," I told him. I knew it couldn't be good because of the look he had on his face.

"Lizzie, about tomorrow...I…uh."

Oh flip! What? Images of Rhonda are invading my mind. "For Christ's sake, Patrick, what?" I asked him, my tone now angry.

"Well, Rhonda called…" He said her name. Oh God. I rolled my eyes. "I've got an assignment in Ireland. My plane leaves at 3." He looked sad and I told myself not to scream. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

"How long will you be gone this time?" I asked calmly.

"5 days," he said, looking downward.

I exploded. "Christ, Patrick!" I shouted and stepped out with him, slamming my front door behind me.

"I know, Lizzie. I didn't plan this," he explained.

My heart felt heavy and my mind raced. "We were supposed to go out tomorrow. It's our one month anniversary."

"I know. It's not like I want to."

This gave me an idea. "So then, don't."

"I have to, Lizzie."

"No, you don't Patrick. We hate it when you're gone," I told him hoping hed change his mind. "You take off at a moment's notice. Whenever Rhonda calls, you go." Stupid cow, Rhonda. Blast her and her bloody cleavage.

"What can I say, Lizzie? This is how I make my living."

"You're smart, Patrick, do something else then." After I said it, I instantly regretted it. Patrick's face took on an angry look.

"This is me, Lizzie." He pointed to himself. "This is what I do."

"Then can't you do it here, Patrick?" To me it seemed a reasonable request.

"We've been over this, Lizzie. Freelance pays more and I'm not going to end up some damn wedding photographer! That's not me!" he shouted.

He's shouting at me and I felt like we weren't going to make it and that the best thing that ever happened to me was going to walk right out of my life.

"Look, Patrick, if this is going to work…" The tears start to come because I didn't want to think of him not being a part of my life. "Frankie and I need someone to be here. Not off in foreign places all over the world with God knows who doing God knows what!"

The look that he gave me just then made me want to jump off a building. I wished I hadn't said it, but a small part of me still felt this way.

His voice was low. "You know what I do, Lizzie." Then he looked me in the eye. "I take photographs, that's what I do."

I was shaking, wiping tears from my eyes. He tried to hug me but I pushed him away. I could hear the cow, Rhonda's voice in my head screaming Patrick's name. "I think ya should leave now."

"Lizzie, please can we talk about this?" he pleaded.

"Please leave!" I screamed at him. I had to go back inside. I needed to be away from him.

Then he turned and walked away.

I opened my door and slammed it shut, sobbing. My mother came and hugged me. She gave me a tissue and stroked my back. When I could finally speak coherently I asked her, "Ma, what am I going to do?"

She stepped back from me, raised her eyebrow and said, "Well if you're trying to scare the man off, Lizzie, I'd say continue what ya were doing."

"Ma?" I whined.

"Lizzie, just how many men out there like Patrick do ya think there are? Hmmm?"

"But if he cares about me, he should-"

She interrupted me. "Lizzie are ya blind? I've seen the way he looks at you and treats you."

"But…but-"

"Yer a grown woman, Lizzie, deal with it."

I looked down and wiped my eyes again. I knew she was right.

A/N the term cow in Scotland pronounced coo, is considered to be the worst insult you can call a female.

Ok. So, I'm not done yet. A couple more chapters left.