My Temporary Life (37 page)

It’s easy to buy Emily a ticket and get her on a plane. When I call Brennan, and tell him what we’re doing, he assures me that we’ll have no problems, and he’s right.

She’s never flown before and chooses the safeness of the aisle seat, with Heather in the middle and my big frame squeezed up against the window. I look over at her from time to time, and smile, trying to get a smile back, but she just nuzzles her head into her mother’s side. It doesn’t matter. She’s in the right place. All of us are in the right place.

As the plane touches down, Heather looks over at me, and her face can barely stop beaming. “Are you sure Malcolm? Are you sure about this?”

I stare out the window at the cold dreary rain, lashing against the side of the plane. “It’s too late now anyways, even if I’m not. But yeah, I’m sure.”

Both of them are there, standing side by side. Hardly is leaning precariously on his crutch, and when he sees us, starts awkwardly trying to hop towards us. My Dad doesn’t seem to notice anything other than me, though. His eyes lock on mine, and he hugs me with the same strong arms that he’s always had. “It’s good to have you home, son. Good to have you home.” He’s smaller than the last time I saw him but he’s still the same. He’s still my Dad.

In the movie of my life that plays in my head, there are no more temporaries, ever. The hero finds the girl. He knows exactly where his home is, and little girls never get hurt. When I called my Dad from Postman’s house and told him a little bit about what we’d been through he said to come home, and I didn’t have to think about it at all. I knew exactly where that was.

Hardly reaches out to shake my hand, and I steady him on his crutch. “You’re home now then, Malcolm. You’re finally home. I was right, wasn’t I? It’s inside of you. It’s always inside of you.”

I nod back to my friend and let him lean against me as my dad hugs Heather and kisses her on the cheek, the way the Scots do. He tells her that she’s welcome here, welcome in his home. Then, he leans down to Emily’s height, and holds out his hand to shake hers. “And who do we have here? Who is this young lady?”

She holds out her little hand and lets him shake it. For a moment it’s as though she’s forgotten everything that’s happened to her, to all of us. She looks at my dad, staring hard at him. He’s just a harmless old man. He could be anybody’s grandpa or anybody’s dad, and with his Scottish accent and his kind, sweet grin, he charms the little girl. She pulls her hand away from him, but she’s smiling, smiling like any other little girl, and showing off her very own, perfect little half dimple.

For details on Martin Crosbie’s next novel which is due to be released in late 2012 please join his mailing list at
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