Cecelia Ahern - The Gift

“Ruth,” the young garda said, so softly that Ruth’s heart sank even further, and as her body went limp, she allowed Quentin to reach for her and pull her down to the couch beside him and Lou’s father. They grabbed one another’s hands, squeezed one another so tightly that they were linked like a chain, and they listened as Raphie and Jessica told them how life for them had changed beyond all comprehension, as they learned that a son, a brother, and a husband had left them as suddenly as he’d arrived.

WHILE SANTA LAID GIFTS IN homes all across the country that night, while lights in windows began to go out for the evening, while wreaths upon doors became fingers upon lips and blinds went down as the eyelids of a sleeping home drooped, hours before a turkey went through a window at another home in another district, Ruth Suffern had yet to learn that despite losing her husband she had gained his child, and together the family realized — on the most magical night of the year — the true gift that Lou had given them in the early hours of Christmas morning.

RAPHIE WATCHED THE TURKEY BOY’S reaction as he heard the last of the story. He was silent for a moment.

“How do you know all of this?”

“We’ve been piecing it all together today. Talking to the family and to his colleagues.”

“Did you talk to Gabe?”

“Briefly, earlier. We’ve been waiting for him to come back to the station, but we can’t seem to find him.”

“And you called to Lou’s house this morning?”

“We did.”

“And Lou wasn’t there.”

“Nowhere to be seen. Sheets still warm from where he’d lain.”

“Are you making this up?”

“Not a word of it.”

“Do you expect me to believe this?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Then what was the point?”

“People tell stories, and it’s up to those who listen whether to believe them or not.”

“Shouldn’t the storyteller believe it?”

“The storyteller should tell it.” He winked.

“Do you believe it?”

Raphie looked around the room to make sure nobody had sneaked in without his noticing. He shrugged awkwardly, moving his head at the same time. “One man’s lesson is another man’s tale, but often, a man’s tale can be another’s lesson.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Raphie avoided the question by taking a slug of coffee.

“You said there was a lesson — what was the lesson?”

“If I have to tell you that, boy…” Raphie rolled his eyes.

“Ah, come on.”

“Appreciating your loved ones,” Raphie said, a little embarrassed at first. “Acknowledging all the special people in your life. Concentrating on what’s important.” He cleared his throat and looked away, not comfortable with preaching.

The Turkey Boy rolled his eyes and faked a yawn.

Raphie tossed his embarrassment to the side, giving himself one more opportunity to get through to the teen before he gave up altogether. He should have been at home, already on his second helping of Christmas dinner, instead of being here with this frustrating boy.

He leaned forward. “Gabe gave Lou a gift, son, a very special gift. I’m not going to bother asking you what that was, I’m going to tell you, and you’d better listen up, because right after this I’m leaving you, and you’ll be alone to think about what you did. If you don’t pay attention, then you’ll go back out to the world an angry young man who’ll feel angry for the rest of his life.”

“Okay,” the boy said defensively, sitting up in his seat as though being told off by the headmaster.

“Gabe gave Lou the gift of time, son.”

The Turkey Boy wrinkled up his nose.

“Oh, you’re fourteen years old and you think you’ve all the time in the world, but you don’t. None of us have. We’re spending it with all the might and indifference of January sales shoppers. A week from now they’ll be crowding the streets, swarming the shops with open wallets, just throwing all their cash away.” Raphie seemed to crawl into the shell on his back for a moment, his eyes tucked under his gray, bushy eyebrows.

The boy smirked at Raphie, amused by the man’s sudden emotion. “But you can earn more money, so who cares?”

Raphie snapped out of his trance and looked up as though seeing the Turkey Boy in the room for the first time. “So that makes time more precious, doesn’t it? More precious than money, more precious than anything. You can never earn more time. Once an hour goes by, a week, a month, a year, you’ll never get them back. Lou Suffern was running out of time, and Gabe gave him more, to help tie things up, to finish things properly. That’s the gift.” Raphie’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He looked down at his coffee and pushed it away, feeling his heart cramp again. “So we should fix things before…”

He ran out of breath and waited for the cramping to fade.

“Do you think it’s too late to, you know” — the Turkey Boy twisted the string of his hoodie around his finger, speaking self-consciously — “fix things with my, you know…”

“With your dad?”

The boy shrugged and looked away, not wanting to admit it.

“It’s never too late — ” Raphie stopped abruptly, nodded to himself as though registering a thought, nodded again with an air of agreement and finality, and then pushed back his chair, the legs screeching against the floor, and stood.

“Hold on, where are you going?”

“To fix things, boy. To fix some things. And I suggest you do the same when your mother comes.”

The young teenager’s blue eyes blinked back at him, innocence still there, though lost somewhere in the mist of his confusion and anger.

Raphie left the room and made his way down the hall, loosening his tie. He heard his voice being called but continued walking anyway. He pushed his way out of the staff quarters, into the public entrance room that was empty on this Christmas Day.

“Raphie,” Jessica called, chasing after him.

“Yes,” he said, turning around.

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Is it your heart? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he nodded. “Everything’s fine. What’s up?”

Jessica narrowed her eyes and studied him, knowing he was lying. “Is that boy giving you trouble?”

“No, he’s fine, purring like a pussy cat now. Everything’s fine.”

“Then where are you going?”

“Eh?” He looked toward the door, trying to think of another lie, another untruth to tell somebody for the tenth year running. But he sighed — a long sigh that had been held in for many years — and he gave up, the truth finally sounding odd yet comfortable as it fell from his tongue.

“I want to go home,” he said, suddenly appearing very old. “I want today to be over so that I can go home to my wife. And my daughter.”

“You have a daughter?” she asked with surprise.

“Yes,” he said, a simple word filled with emotion. “I do. She lives up there on Howth Summit. That’s why I’m there in the car every evening. I just like to keep an eye on her. Even if she doesn’t know it.”

They stared at each other for a while, knowing that something strange had overcome them that morning, something strange that had changed them forever.

“I had a husband,” she said suddenly. “Car crash. I was there. Holding his hand. Just like this morning.” She swallowed and lowered her voice. “I always said I’d have done anything to give him at least a few more hours.” There, she’d said it. “I gave Lou a pill, Raphie,” she said firmly, looking him straight in the eye now. “I know I shouldn’t have, but I gave him a pill. I don’t know if all that stuff about the pills is true or not — but if I helped Lou have a few more hours with his family, I’m glad, and I’d do it again, if anyone asks.”