Through the Glass by Lisa J. Hobman Page B

His greeting was far from cordial.
    Felicity stood shivering on the doorstep. “C-can I c-come in please, Jim, it’s important,” she pleaded.
    Reluctantly he stepped aside so the Ice Queen could enter his cosy little cottage. As she walked past him into the lounge, the cold, biting air from the outside followed her as if it emanated from her very being. He shuddered.
    “I have no idea why the hell you would be here. You’re miles away from home,” he spoke to himself really. “Do you…do you want a coffee?” he asked, still befuddled as to why his ex-wife had driven for almost ten hours to turn up on his door step without prior notification.
    “Y-yes, please. Brrrrrrr.”’ She shivered. “This is a sweet place, Jim.” She followed him into the kitchen.
    “Thanks. It’s small but perfectly formed, as they say.” He smiled. He poured freshly brewed, steaming coffee into a mug for Felicity. “So, I’m Jim again, am I?” he asked, confused.
    “It suits you better,” she stated with a sad smile.
    It’s taken her long enough to figure that out . He grumbled under his breath. They wandered back through to the lounge and sat before the fire, silently. Felicity was hunched as if the weight of the world was dragging her down. Finally, Jim could wait no longer.
    “So…to what do I owe the unexpected…erm…visit?” He would have said pleasure but considering he had spent almost the last three years getting over her it was not a word he could associate with Felicity any longer. She had caused him so much heartache. He couldn’t go there again.
    “I...I’m sorry to just turn up... I’m afraid I have some bad news, Jim, and I couldn’t tell you over the phone. I just couldn’t do that.” Her lip began to quiver and her eyes glistened with welling tears.
    “Hey…hey, what is it? What’s wrong Fli…Felicity?” Jim put his cup down and slid to the seat beside her on the sofa.
    “It’s Daddy, Jim… He passed away just before Christmas… He’d been ill but had kept it quiet.”
    The news hit Jim like a blow to the gut. He inhaled sharply and ran his hands through his hair.
    She twisted her fingers in her lap and glanced up briefly. “He had been receiving treatment for his illness but he didn’t want Mum fussing over him.” A sob broke free as the tears overflowed from her closed eyes and spilled down her face. “And he didn’t want to worry me.”
    “Why…how…I don’t…” Jim stood and leaned on the fire place. His stomach clenched into a knot and nausea washed over him. Edgar had been like a father to him. He had written several letters over the past year and had received light-hearted replies regaling Jim with details of the latest book he was working on. The last letter had been full of facts about George Leigh Mallory, the subject of his latest biography. It was the beginning of December when he had received the last letter. There was no mention of illness. None .
    Felicity stood. “I shouldn’t have come… I should’ve called you… I should’ve—”
    Jim swung around and took her in his arms. “Hey, hey, shhh…c’mon, it’s fine that you’re here. I just wish I could’ve helped…or at least been there for you.” He stroked her hair as she sobbed, his own eyes stinging with unshed tears.
     
    ~~~~~
     
    Felicity relaxed into Jim’s arms. It felt good to be there again. She had missed the feeling of being loved, really loved. Even though she knew that there was no way he could possibly love her now. Not after everything that had happened over the past few years.
    “Felicity…I just want to ask you something.” He pulled her away from his body and looked into her eyes, his only showing signs of regret and pain. She looked up at him, blinking through the blur of her tears. She had been doing a lot of crying lately, especially on the journey here. It probably showed. “Why wasn’t I invited to attend Edgar’s funeral?”
    Felicity stepped away, her own guilt and