Free If You Could See Me Now by Cecelia Ahern Page A

the world. Her father needed to step into his rightful place of fatherhood now, a title he had discarded many years ago and refused to recognize. She only hoped now that as the two of them were alone, he would realize his duties and show as much love as he could for what he had left.
    But what if he didn’t? She continued watching her sister out the back window, feeling as though she were never going to see her again, waving as fast and as furiously as she could as tears filled her eyes for the little life and bundle of energy she was leaving behind. The red hair jumping up and down was visible from a mile away and so they both kept on waving. What would her little sister do now that the fun of waving had worn off and the realization set in that she was alone with the man who never spoke, never helped, and never loved? Elizabeth almost told the driver to stop the car right there and then, but quickly told herself to cop on. She needed to live.
    You do the same as me someday, little Saoirse, her eyes kept telling the small figure as they drove away. Promise me you’ll do the same. Fly away from there.
    With eyes full with tears, Elizabeth watched as the bungalow got smaller and smaller in her mirror until finally it disappeared when she reached the
    end of the mile-long road. At once her shoulders relaxed and she realized she had been holding her breath the entire time.
    “Right, Ivan,” she said, looking in the mirror at the empty backseat, “I guess you’re coming to work with me so.” She sighed. Then she did a funny thing.
    She giggled childishly.

 
    Chapter Seven

     
     
    The town was stirring as Elizabeth drove over the gray-stoned bridge that served as the entrance to the village. Two huge coaches full of tourists were currently trying to inch past each other on the narrow street. Inside, Elizabeth could see faces pressed up against the windows, oohing and aahing, smiling and pointing, cameras being held up to the glass to snap the storybook village on film. The coach driver facing Elizabeth licked his lips in concentration and she could see the sweat glistening on his brow as he slowly maneuvered the oversized vehicle along the narrow road originally designed for horses and carts. The sides of the coaches were so close they were almost touching. Beside him, the tour guide with microphone in hand did his best to entertain his one-hundred-strong audience so early in the morning.
    Elizabeth lifted the hand brake and sighed loudly. This wasn’t a rare occurrence in the town and she knew it could take a while. She doubted the coaches would stop. They rarely did unless it was for a toilet break. Traffic always seemed to be moving through Baile na gCroíthe, but never stopping. She didn’t blame them; it was a great place to help you get to where you were going but not one for sticking around in. Traffic would slow down and take a good look all right, but then they would put the foot down and accelerate off out the other end.
    It’s not that Baile na gCroíthe wasn’t beautiful; it was. Its proudest moment was winning the Tidy Town competition for the third year running
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    and as you entered the village, over the bridge, a display of bright blooming flowers spelled out your welcome. The flower display continued through the town. Window boxes adorned the shop fronts, hanging baskets hung from patent black lampposts, trees grew tall in the main street. Each building was painted a different refreshing color and the main street, the only street, was a rainbow of mint greens, salmon pinks, lilacs, lemons, and blues. The pavements were litter free and gleaming and as soon as you averted your gaze above the gray slate roofs you found yourself surrounded by majestic green mountains. It was as though Baile na gCroíthe was cocooned, safely nestled in the bosom of Mother Nature.
    Cozy or suffocating.
    Elizabeth’s office was located beside a green post office and a yellow supermarket. Her building was a pale blue and