Cecelia Ahern - If You Could See Me Now

“Thank you, Ivan,” she said politely.

“And thank you, too.”

“For what?”

“You said I was funny.”

“Oh, yes. Well, em ...you’re welcome.”

“You don’t get many compliments, do you?”

Elizabeth should have stood up right there and then, ordered him out of her living room for being so intrusive, but she didn’t, because as much as she thought she should, technically, according to her own rules, be bothered by this, she wasn’t. She sighed. “No, Ivan, I don’t.”

He smiled at her. “Well, let that be the first of many.”

He stared at her and her face began to twitch from holding his stare for so long. “Is Sam staying with you tonight?”

Ivan rolled his eyes. “I hope not. For a boy of only six years of age, he snores awfully loud.”

Elizabeth smiled. “There’s nothing only about being si—” She stopped herself and gulped back some coffee.

He raised his eyebrows. “What was that?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled. While Ivan was looking around the room, Elizabeth stole another glance at him; she couldn’t figure out how old he was. He was tall and muscular; manly, yet with a boyish charm. He confused her. She decided to cut to the chase.

“Ivan, I’m confused about something.” She took a breath to ask her question.

“Don’t be. Never be confused.”

Elizabeth felt herself frown and smile at the same time; her face was even confused by his statement. “OK,” she said slowly. “Do you mind me asking what age you are?”

“No,” he said happily. “I don’t mind at all.”

Silence.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What age are you?”

Ivan smiled. “Well, let’s just say I’ve been told by one person in particular that I’m old like you.” Elizabeth laughed. She had thought as much. Obviously, Ivan hadn’t been spared any of Luke’s unsubtle comments.

“Children keep you young, though, Elizabeth.” His voice turned serious, his eyes deep and thoughtful. “My job is to care for children, help them along their way and just be there for them.”

“You’re a care worker?” Elizabeth asked.

Ivan thought about that. “You could call me a care worker, professional best friend, guide. . . .” He held out his hands and shrugged. “Children are the ones that know exactly what’s going on in the world, you know. They see more than adults, believe in more, are honest, and will always, always let you know where you stand.”

Elizabeth nodded along with him; he obviously loved his job. As a father and as a care worker.

“You know, it’s interesting.” He leaned forward again. “Children learn much more, far more quickly than adults. Do you know why that is?”

Elizabeth assumed there was some scientific explanation for it, but shook her head.

“Because they’re open-minded. Because they want to know and they want to learn. Adults”—he shook his head sadly—“think they know it all. They grow up and forget so easily instead of opening their minds, they choose what to believe and what not to believe. You can’t make a choice on things like that, you either believe or you don’t. That’s why their learning is slower. They are more cynical, they lose faith, and they only demand to know things that will help them get by day by day. They’ve no interest in the extras. But, Elizabeth,” he said, his voice a loud whisper, eyes wide and sparkling, and Elizabeth shivered as goose pimples rose on her arms. She felt as if he were sharing the world’s greatest secret with her. She moved her head closer.

“It’s the extras that make life.”

“That make life what?” she whispered.

He smiled. “That make life .”

Elizabeth swallowed the lump in her throat. “That’s it?”

Ivan smiled. “What do you mean, that’s it? How much more can you get than life, how much more can you ask for than life? That’s the gift. Life is everything, and you haven’t lived it properly until you believe.”

“Believe in what?”

Ivan rolled his eyes and smiled. “Oh, Elizabeth, you’ll figure it out.”

Elizabeth wanted the extras he spoke about. She wanted the sparkle and the excitement of life, she wanted to release balloons in a barley field and fill a room with pink fairy cakes. Her eyes filled again and her heart thudded in her chest at the thought of crying in front of him. She needn’t have worried, because he stood up slowly.

“Elizabeth,” he said gently, “on that note, I shall leave you. It was my pleasure to spend this time with you.” He held out his hand.

When Elizabeth held out her own to touch his soft skin, he grasped it gently and pumped it hypnotically. She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat that had taken over.

“Good luck with your meeting tomorrow.” He smiled encouragingly and with that he exited the living room. The door was closed behind him by Luke, who shouted “Bye, Sam!” at the top of his voice, laughed loudly, and then pounded up the stairs.

Later that night, Elizabeth lay in bed, her head hot, her nose blocked, and her eyes sore from crying. She hugged her pillow and snuggled down into her duvet. The open curtains allowed the moon to shine a path of silver-blue light across her room. She gazed out the window at the same moon she had watched as a child, at the same stars she had wished upon, and a thought struck her.

She hadn’t mentioned anything at all to Ivan about her meeting tomorrow.

Chapter Fifteen

Elizabeth hauled her luggage out of the boot of the taxi and trailed it along behind her into the departure and arrival area of Farenfore Airport. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now she really felt like she was going home. After spending only a month living in New York, she felt she fitted in there more than she ever had in Baile na gCroíthe. She was beginning to make friends; more importantly she was beginning to want to make friends.

“The plane is on time at least,” Mark said, joining the small check-in queue.

Elizabeth smiled at him and rested her forehead against his chest. “I’ll need another holiday to recover from this one,” she joked wearily.

Mark chuckled, kissed the top of her head, and ran his hands through her dark hair. “You call coming home to visit our families a holiday?” he laughed. “Let’s go to Hawaii when we get back.”

Elizabeth lifted her head and raised an eyebrow. “Of course, I’ll just let you tell my boss that. You know I need to get back to that project urgently.”

Mark studied her determined face. “You should go it alone.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and leaned her forehead against his chest again. “Not this again.” Her voice was muffled in his duffel coat.

“Just listen.” He lifted her chin up with his forefinger to face him. “You work all the hours under the sun, rarely take time off, and stress yourself out. For what?”

She opened her mouth to reply.

“For what?” he repeated, stopping her.

Again she opened her mouth to answer and he jumped in. “Well, seeing as you’re so reluctant to answer”—he smiled—“I’ll tell you what for. For other people. So that they get all the glory. You do all the work, they get all the glory.”

“Excuse me.” Elizabeth half laughed. “That job pays me extremely well as you well know, and at the rate I’m going, by this time next year, if we decide to stay in New York, that is, I’ll be able to afford that house we saw—”

“My dear Elizabeth,” Mark interrupted. “The rate you’re going, this time next year that house will be sold and in its place will be a skyscraper or terribly trendy bar that doesn’t sell alcohol or a restaurant that doesn’t serve food ‘ just to be different. ’ ” He made quotation marks with his fingers, making Elizabeth laugh. “Your firm will be hired to do the interior design, and your boss will give you the assignment; you will no doubt paint it white, put fluorescent lights in the floors and refuse to include furniture in the plans, in case it clutters the place,” he teased. “And other people will get the credit for that.” He looked at her in pretend disgust. “Imagine. That’s your blank canvas, nobody else’s, and they shouldn’t take that away from you. I want to be able to bring our friends in there and say, ‘Look everyone, Elizabeth did this. Took her three months to do, all it is, is white walls and no chairs, but I’m proud of her. Didn’t she do well?’ ”