Текст книги "Just Me"

Автор книги: L.A. Fiore

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter Twenty

A few days later, Bastian headed off for his apprenticeship and saying good-bye to him was not easy. Trying desperately to hold it together, I watched as he loaded his bag into the trunk.

“Please be careful and please wait until Friday morning to come back. You could fall asleep at the wheel if you try to come back on Thursday night.”

He walked around the car to stand not just in front of me, but pressing up against me, so he could frame my face with his hands. “Keep your phone close, I'll be texting you a lot.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist as I attempted a smile, but I was too saddened by his departure to pull one off.

“I'll be back before you know it.” He promised.

“I know, I'm just going to miss you.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head before lifting my lips to his kiss: one that effectively turned my bones to goo.

“I'll see you on Friday.” He said before he brushed another kiss on my lips and allowed it to linger a moment. He stepped back and I moved to the side so he could climb into the car. He started up Baby, but his eyes never left mine.

“I love you, Lark.”

“I love you.”

He pulled down the drive, and I was surprised at how hard it was to watch him go even knowing he would be back at the end of the week. I returned to the house, locking the door, and headed to the bedroom with Reaper at my heels. Saffron had dropped him off yesterday knowing that I would be alone starting today. Climbing into bed, I pulled the covers up and willed myself to sleep.

Sometime later, I awoke to the sound of my phone. When I saw who was calling, I smiled. “Hello Poppy.”

“Hi, Lark. Just wanted to call you to see how you're doing with Bastian gone.”

“I'm miserable.”

“Well, it's only for a few days.”

“I know. I'm being silly. How are things with you? How's Caden?”

The wistfulness of her response was answer enough. “He's wonderful. I'm falling hard for him.”

“And I'm sure that feeling is completely mutual.” I said.

“It is.”

“How are your parents?” I inquired.

“They're good. They miss you.”

“I miss them. Poppy, I was right. Logan is my dad.” He had the paternity test fast-tracked and it was official, I was his daughter.

“He told you?”

“Yeah, it's a long story and one I'd really rather share in person, but he didn't know about me and when he learned of me, he moved heaven and earth to get to know me.”

I heard Poppy crying on the other end of the line. “I want you all to meet.”

“Yes, I would like to meet them. Oh Lark, I am so happy for you.”

“There's more.”

“More, what could be more than finding your dad?”

“Bastian and I think it's my dad behind the taunting of the Rosses. His family is the one behind the MacGowan franchise.”

“Holy shit.”

I laughed out loud. “Yeah, that was Bastian's reaction too. When Dominic learned of it from Bastian, he not-so-subtly hinted that he wanted an invite to Scotland to see the distillery.”

“Can I tell Mom and Dad and Caden?”

“Yes.”

“Mom will be calling to make plans, and Dad will certainly be calling for scotch samples, so expect calls.”

“I will. I miss you Poppy.”

“I miss you, but it looks like I'll be seeing you soon.”

“I can't wait.”

***

Poppy wasn't wrong about her mom, and in fact she steamrollered me and went right to Logan, calling mere moments after I hung up with Poppy. A visit was planned for the upcoming weekend and I knew that was partly because the Wrights wanted to make sure we were okay, that Bastian and I weren't being conned or some such thing. This coming weekend was the swordfish festival, so we were all going to experience Harrington at its finest.

When the doorbell sounded. I made my way to the door and opened it to find Logan and Saffron on the front stoop.

“Hey Lark.” Saffron said.

“Hope you don't mind the impromptu visit.” Logan added.

“Not at all. Please, come in.” I pulled the door open wider.

Their attentions moved to the walls in the living room. Bastian had surprised me by making frames for most of my works and one day, when I was off with Logan, he framed a bunch of them and hung them on the walls. I didn't think about Saffron's reaction though as they entered the room.

“We wrapped all of your pictures in bubble wrap and stacked them on the floor in the closet of the bedroom with the mural. I hope that was all right.” And what a mural; Logan had outdone himself with his depiction of life under the sea.

Saffron turned to me as Logan walked up and down the row of pictures. “Absolutely, it's fine but you're going to have to give us a minute.”

I had many of my older works, some of which I had shown Bastian that one day, but I had some new ones too. There was a sketch of the Fletcher twins sitting on a park bench in town square and, though they were identical, I noticed a few differences. There was the painting of the cove I had started that day with Callie and another was of a place Bastian had taken me. Never had I seen so beautiful a place. The jagged and wild rock cliffs butted up against the water and were in direct contrast to the lush green of the conifers and pines that surrounded those cliffs.

Logan stopped in front of the painting I had given Bastian and he pointed out a few things to Saffron. Finally they ended at the sketch of Bastian. I’d insisted that sketch be placed over the fireplace because it was, after all, my very favorite. Logan turned to me, but his expression was not one I could place. “How would you feel about having your own showing?”

I had no doubt that I looked like a mental patient in that moment, because I was taken completely off guard by his question. My dad actually chuckled before he added. “Seriously, think about it. This…” he gestured to the works around the room, “would drive the art world mad.”

I was almost speechless, almost. “I would love a showing, but what I would love even more than my own showing would be to have a showing with you, and not because you're Logan MacGowan or David Cambre, but because you're my dad.” My mind caught up to my mouth and I realized what I was suggesting, that my works should been shown with arguably the greatest artist of our time which immediately had me back-pedaling. “I mean unless of course you don't think I'm ready.”

“I would be honored to have a showing with you.”

“Really?”

“Really.” He walked to me and dropped a kiss on my forehead. “I'll have my folks get to work on it.”

The full impact of what that meant settled over me and I felt both excitement and humility.

“Wait! You're supposed to be dead.”

“I know, talk about turning the art world on its ear.”

“But you can't...” He didn't let me finish.

“Saffron and I have been talking about resurrecting my alter ego for a while and I can't think of a better way to come back into society than to do so with my exceedingly talented daughter. Whatever legal hurdles I have to tackle will be worth it. So no more arguments, okay?”

“Okay.”

“We came to take you to dinner, since we suspected you might be feeling melancholy with Bastian gone.” He said.

“I am. I would love to go to dinner.”

***

Saffron had called earlier to ask me to stop by the lighthouse because she had something she wanted to discuss with me. When I arrived after lunch, Logan and Hunter weren't home. They had been sent on a mission to get Saffron donuts. She really was addicted to those things. Next time I came over, I'd bring her a box of them.

“I'm so glad you could come.” She looked nervous.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I wanted to offer you something and if you don't want it, please just say.”

“Okay.”

“Come, it'll be easier to show you.”

She led me up the stairs to her bedroom where she moved to the closet. After a minute, she pulled out a large garment bag. “I had this made but I was never able to wear it. I couldn't part with it because remembering the day I tried it on, the excitement I felt about Logan seeing me in it, I had to keep it. I hoped one day someone would wear it and I can't think of a better person than Logan's daughter.”

And then she unzipped the bag to expose the most beautiful wedding gown I had ever seen. A white lace sheath that was simple, elegant and so me. “Oh my God, Saffron. It's exquisite.”

“Isn't it? As soon as I saw it, I knew it was the one.”

“But I can't wear that, it's yours.”

“I want you to have it, if you like it. It deserves to be worn. Think of it as something borrowed and new since I don't want it back. You could save it for maybe your own daughter.”

“What if you and Logan are having a daughter?” I said, my gaze shifting to her belly.

“He already has a daughter.”

My throat tightened and the back of my eyes burned at those words. He already has a daughter.

“You don't have to accept it, Lark.”

“No! I want it. I really want it. It's so beautiful but it's the sentiment behind the dress, the fact that you're offering to me something so precious to you. Of course I want it. I'd be honored to wear it.”

Tears filled her eyes but a smile spread over her face. “Let's try it on.”

“Could I?”

“Absolutely.”

Now it was my face breaking out into an ear-to-ear grin. “Okay.”

***

The days that followed went surprisingly quickly and before I knew it, it was Thursday night. I spent most of the day getting ready for the Wrights, Caden and Sophia. Poppy, Sophia and Caden were staying with Bastian and me and Mr. and Dr. Wright were staying at the lighthouse. I made sure to stock the refrigerator with all of Bastian and Caden's favorite foods. I had the chocolate and ice cream that Poppy and Sophia adored and I even purchased a few movies for us to watch late at night. I was so excited about seeing them, because though it had only been a month, it had been a month too long. I wished I hadn't told Bastian to wait until the morning to come back, because I really, really wanted to see him too.

It was just after eight in the evening when Reaper started to growl seconds before there was a knock at the door. Checking the peephole, I couldn't say what emotion I felt more, surprise or dread, seeing Aunt Kim standing there. Why was she in Maine and more, how did she know where I was staying? The call from my uncle popped into my head and though I wanted to phone him and share that she was here, because apprehension filled me at the sight of her, it was the sadness in her expression that had me opening the door.

“Aunt Kim. Is everything okay? Why are you in Maine?”

“I don't even know. I got in the car and started to drive. I messed up, I really messed up.”

She sounded so devastated. How could I turn her away? I pulled the door open wider. “Come in.”

Reaper was just behind me, still growling low in his throat. I couldn't blame him since I wasn't a fan of hers either.

She stepped into the foyer, her eyes moving around the house almost nervously. I sensed the sadness, it practically wrapped around her like a blanket, but there was another emotion coming off her that had the hair on my arms standing on end. Devastated or not, suddenly I wished my phone wasn't across the room because my instinct was to not be alone with her. If only Bastian had ignored me and had come home tonight.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Your uncle is divorcing me.”

I knew this was coming, but I could still empathize. “I'm sorry to hear that.”

She turned and speared me with a look that had chills shooting down my arms. “Are you? Isn't it a fitting end for me, the wicked woman who was so cruel to you: the poor, little orphan. It's like a fucking fairytale.”

I was apprehensive, absolutely, but she pricked my temper; the next words sort of just tumbled out. “My mother died and left me an orphan, but how you chose to treat me falls squarely on your shoulders. Our relationship could have been so much more, I'd have liked it to have been so much more because you were my only link to my mom.”

“And it always comes back to her.”

“Sorry?”

She dismissed my confusion with a wave of her hand but what she said next left me even more confused. “You stole them away from me, the twins and Eddie, just like I knew you would. I tried to appeal to your compassion, but you're just as selfish as your bitch mother.”

A warning lit down my spine. My aunt had always been hostile toward me but I was sensing something more, like she was dangerously close to losing her shit. As hard as it was for me to keep my mouth shut, I did because I didn't want to engage her and risk provoking her. If there was ever a woman on the edge, I was looking at her.

“My sister was a selfish bitch. I hated her. Beautiful girls suck. You get whatever you want and have men fawning all over you. I wasn't going to let her have him. He was mine. I love Eddie, loved him from the moment I first saw him, but all it took was one look and he was under her spell. She had half of the guys in town following after her, and she took my man. I had always hated her, but in that moment I felt more than hatred.”

She started to pace the room and I used the opportunity to move toward my cell. If I could just dial my dad, he'd get that something was wrong.

Aunt Kim continued on, as if she wasn't really speaking to me, just remembering out loud. “I remember the day when that all changed. She had caught Bradley Franklin’s eye, but of course she paid him as much attention as Eddie paid to me. Unlike me, when Bradley wanted something, he took it. His son, Brad, didn't fall too far from that tree.”

Dread twisted painfully in my gut as she callously continued.

“She came to me after Bradley had his way with her. I told her it wasn't rape because she'd been asking for it, walking around looking the way she did. He was the first but he wouldn't be the last. And then I simply pointed out that she was probably carrying his bastard and how could she expect a man like Eddie to want her when she was used goods.”

I wanted to press my hands to my ears as bile surged up my throat. I couldn't really believe what I was hearing. I had feared that my mom might have been raped but for her sister to use that rape against her…no wonder she became a shell of a person. I understood how my mom felt: the self-doubt and shame and how destructive those negative feelings could be if left to fester. My mom actually sought out help. For Aunt Kim to use my mom's nightmare against her, made my aunt a monster.

And Brad—was that what he had been alluding to when he said we were fated? How had the father spun that story to his son? Based on how Brad turned out, I didn't think I really wanted to know the answer to that.

“Dylan tried to stay after the incident but her self-loathing got the better of her. Eventually she just left town. Her leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me.” Her laugh was not pleasant. “But my bitch of a sister got the last laugh, because eight years later I get you. A daily reminder for Eddie of the woman he loved and lost.”

Tears of fury were rolling down my cheeks. No wonder my aunt hated me so much, even though it wasn't me specifically she hated. I was a daily reminder for her too: a reminder of what she had done to her sister. She had stolen her sister's life.

I was so livid that I said exactly what I was thinking. “She came to you for help and you used her pain to destroy her. You're responsible for her death.”

“Doesn't matter now, nothing does. He hates me. He'll never take me back.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Eddie knows. Brad's father paid us a visit after his trial. Eddie ruined his life when he helped with Brad's conviction so he decided to ruin ours and told Eddie not only about his “interest” in Dylan all those years ago but that I knew of it.”

“Uncle Eddie knows about my mom, about the rape?”

Her crazy gaze drilled into me. “It wasn't rape. Bradley claimed she came onto him.”

“That's bullshit. It was rape and you damn well know it. You let her believe a lie. I know the doubts she was feeling: the worry over whether she was somehow responsible. You tried to do the same to me. The difference was I had people who loved me and assured me that it wasn't my fault, but you used her demons against her. You broke her. You killed her! And in the process you broke the heart of the man you claim to love. Even worse, you allowed him to believe the lie: to believe that the woman he loved didn't love him back.”

Her demeanor changed as a sadness came into her expression. She looked almost normal. “It doesn't matter now.” she whispered.

“What are you going to do?”

“I've nothing left.” She said, defeated.

“What about Deena and Carol?”

“They're better off without me.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a gun. My heart moved into my throat and my feet seemed to root themselves right to the floor with my fear.

“Aunt Kim, why do you have a gun?”

“Why should you have it all, Dylan?”

“I'm not my mother.”

But my words had fallen on deaf ears. I had never known fear like I felt in that moment. There I was looking at the instrument of my own death. In the next second, Reaper attacked my aunt. The sound of the gun echoed through the house, followed by Reaper's whimper before he dropped to his side.

“No!”

I lunged toward my aunt, not really thinking only acting out of fear and fury. A second shot sounded before a pain ripped through my shoulder. I was knocked back into the wall, my shoulder on fire as warm blood rolled down my arm.

Sanity seemed to come over my aunt, seeing me bleeding from a wound she inflicted. “What have I done?” Her pleading eyes met mine. “What have I done?”

“Put the gun down, please.”

Instead of my words making her see reason, her sanity slipped as madness returned. “I've got nothing left.”

Determination replaced confusion as she lifted the gun and leveled it at me even though I knew it was my mom she was seeing. So many images flashed before my eyes and every one of them was of Bastian. In the final moments of my life, he was all I could think about: how much I loved him and how devastated he was going to be when he came home expecting to find me and instead learning I was...

I begged at that moment, would have gotten on my knees if I could have. “Please, I don't want to die. Please, don't do this. I'm not my mother. I found the love you felt for Uncle Eddie. Please don't take me away from him, don't do to him what you believe my mother did to you.”

The hand that held the gun shook but a calmness settled over her. For just a moment, I thought it was over, that she had finally stepped back from the edge of madness. And then she turned the gun on herself.

“No!” But my voice was drowned out by the shot. Her head jerked back before her body crumpled to the floor. Her face, what was left of it, landed facing my direction and her life-less eyes seemed to stare eerily into mine. I threw up, twisting my body, I vomited until my stomach cramped.

Shock had settled in, a welcomed numbness that sort of blurred the reality of what I had just witnessed. I crawled to Reaper, felt him breathing, and couldn't help the tears of relief that rolled down my cheeks to feel him breathing. I needed to call my dad but my limbs were growing heavy and I knew unconsciousness loomed. With the amount of blood I had lost, maybe it wasn't unconsciousness but something far worse.

The thought of leaving Bastian wrenched me more than even the gunshot wound—him having to pick up the pieces alone, having to watch as I was placed into the ground, his knowledge that a full lifetime would be stretched out before him where he would have to learn to live without me.

My head filled with visions of him, his face, his smile, his voice, his body over mine as he moved so deeply inside of me. And those eyes that had the power to see past all of my defenses. I wanted to see him one last time, wanted that more than I've ever wanted anything in my life.

And then I heard the familiar sound of my car moments before the front door opened and I heard him call, his voice sounded oddly worried.

“Lark!”

He ran into the room and then I watched as his face paled. He reached me in two strides and dropped down right in front of me, looking both fierce and terrified, as he pulled off his shirt and tried to staunch the flow of blood.

“I don't want to die.”

His expression turned harsh, “You are not going to die. Do you hear me, Lark? You are not going to die.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and called 911. “I need a fucking ambulance.”

“I wished for you, Bastian, I've wished for you my whole life.”

“Goddamn it, Lark, stay with me.” He was holding me so tightly against him, I could feel his voice rumbling in his chest. “Don't leave me, don't you fucking leave me.”

“I'll wait for you.”

“Don't you dare leave me!” His command ripped from his throat in a broken sob.

I studied his face, took in every one of his beloved features, then I breathed my last breath.

***

The day I died, I did so three times, but in the end my will to live seemed stronger than what the Fates had planned for me. The doctors claimed it had been medicine that brought me back, but I knew it had been Bastian who willed me back.

Two days after I died, I was no longer hooked up to the various tubes and was able to move around on my own.

My dad told me Bastian had not left my side from the moment he found me. Even during the surgery, he was able to observe, with precautions, of course. It was very unorthodox, but apparently Bastian would not be dissuaded. In a big city hospital, the cops would have been called, but not in the small clinic where everyone knew everyone by their first name. Bastian got his way. He even volunteered to donate his blood when he learned his blood type was a match for mine.

For three days he did nothing but hold a bedside vigil to the point that he almost physically burned himself out. Dr. Wright and Poppy were forced to drag him from the room to get food into him.

I couldn't even imagine the emotions he went through watching me flatline and not once but three times. The thought was so horrific, I immediately pushed it from my mind.

A movement at the door caught my attention to see him standing just inside my room. He made his way over to me and I shifted on the mattress to make room for him. He climbed in and immediately pulled me against him.

When I looked into his eyes again, I saw an emotion so deep and consuming, I immediately understood, because I felt the same way about him. “I love you, Lark, but could we please avoid meeting like this again? The only time I want to see you in the hospital is when you're delivering our children.” He then shocked me when tears started filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“I wasn't coming home. I had intended to do as you suggested and wait until morning but from the moment I woke up, I felt an urgency. I really can't explain it except for that the feeling grew so persistent that I bagged out of work early, climbed in the car, and broke several laws to get to you.” His fingers brushed lightly over my cheek. “My siren. I heard your call. I never believed in a higher power, but I think I may be wrong on that account.”

There were some things in life that could not be explained and this was clearly one of them.

His expression changed again as a devastating sadness swept over his face. “I held you in my arms and watched you die. Every time I close my eyes I'm haunted by the sound of you taking your last breath. Fuck it, I'm going to handcuff you to me because I won't be able to stop hovering for a long fucking time.”

“If it's you hovering, I'm all for it.” It was me who needed to touch him. “I'm sorry.”

Fury replaced sadness as his expression turned thunderous. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“Poor Uncle Eddie and the girls.”

“They'll heal, Lark. We all will.” He pulled me closer and brushed his lips over my forehead and together we drifted off into sleep.

***

A week passed since my aunt had shot me—a week since she had taken her own life—and I was back at the little Cape on the bay. The image of my aunt lying in a pool of her own blood, was always right there in my head. The house had been cleaned, my dad hired a team to scour it, but still she haunted it, at least for me.

I hadn't fully come to terms with what had happened. A part of me wasn't sure I ever would. My aunt had been twisted; her hatred, and I'd like to believe guilt, warped her. That night, so long ago, when I found her sitting in the kitchen all alone. She'd been alluding to what she had done to her sister when she spoke about going to hell and so there was a part of her that, at one time, knew what she had done was wrong.

What I tried to take from the ordeal was that her treatment of me hadn't really been about me, but about her and what she had done. It wasn't much but I did find some solace in that fact.

The reunion with the Wrights, Caden and Sophia wasn't what I had planned. They arrived to find me in the hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound. We had missed the swordfish festival too and I felt bad about that knowing how much Saffron and Logan loved that festival. Under the circumstances, they thought I was crazy for even thinking about it.

My dad, I don't think I'll ever forget the look on his face when I woke after my surgery. If I doubted his love for me, I would no longer. He'd aged, in those few hours, he had aged and I felt badly about that too.

Bastian and my dad had moved the sofa from the living room into the garage and brought out one of the beds since I was ordered on bed rest. Lying on the bed with me, at my insistence, were Hunter and Reaper, the latter who thankfully was healing very nicely from his own surgery. My dad vowed that Reaper would eat steak, every day for the rest of his life, for the heroics he had shown.

My mind turned to my mom a lot since my nightmare. It meant so much to me to learn that my mom hadn't been weak, she had just been broken. Part of me hoped that I had given her some measure of joy. The Wrights had hit it off with my dad and Saffron and were becoming fast friends. I had everyone I loved around me except for my uncle. He had come briefly to identify the body and to bring my aunt home. We talked for a while, and though it had been really painful for both of us, I think the girls and Uncle Eddie were going to eventually be okay. He had a very difficult road ahead of him though, helping his girls deal with not just the loss of their mother but the way in which she died. Years of therapy were in all of their futures, but the girls had a very loving father and I had come to learn that that made all the difference.

I smiled to myself when I thought about what my dad had said to me right after my uncle had left. I'm sorry for what your mother went through and for what your aunt did, but I got you as a result and I'll never be sorry for that.

I was pulled from my thoughts when Bastian settled on the edge of the bed. “Do you need anything?”

“Just you.”

He touched my cheek, his gaze tender. He hadn't yet bounced back, I knew he was as haunted by that night as I was. I caught him often watching me and I knew what he was thinking as if he was speaking his thoughts out loud. He was confirming to himself that I was here, still with him, alive. It was going to take time, the therapist my dad and the Wrights insisted Bastian and I see, expressed that sentiment often. Time was something we had, thank God.

Settling himself on the bed, he pulled me up against him. “Better?”

“Perfect.”

***

A week later, Logan had everyone to the lighthouse for a cook-out, but Bastian and I detoured on our way, because there was something he wanted to show me. We were riding on the back of his bike. He objected because of my shoulder, but I really missed riding with him, so I pestered until he relented.

The ride was beautiful and I recognized where we were as the part of town where Broderick's house was located. The tangy smell of salt water teased my nose as I took a few deep inhales and filled my lungs. I really did love it here. The bike moved around a bend, then Bastian pulled over to an old tree and parked. I climbed off, he followed, before he took my helmet and placed it on his bike.

“How's the shoulder?”

“Fine.”

“I still think we should have taken Baby.”

His kissed me, allowing his lips to linger over mine a moment, before he pulled back. I noticed he looked odd, almost nervous. “What's put that look on your face?”

“I had a thought, but if you don't like it just say.”

“Okay.”

He reached for me and gently pulled me up a small hill. The landscape yawned out before us untouched and magnificent. The forest that stretched across this part of town curved around a patch of bright green grass and in the distance the soothing sweep of the river could be heard.

“It's beautiful, Bastian.”

He turned to me and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Remember we talked about the dream, the house by the river, the kids, the tire swing? We had it all right, just not the location—not the Hudson river. I want to build you a house here. I want the dream here. We go to Columbia, but then we settle here. I've been talking with Broderick, and he really wants to get into the restoration business in a bigger way, and so he's going back to school too, and when you and I graduate, he and I are going into business together. There's plenty of older homes throughout New England to keep us busy and you can paint and be near your dad.”

My heart swelled in my chest and not just because of his words, but because he was so excited about our future.

“I love it, Bastian—the location, the idea.”

“Really? You wouldn't mind forgoing Manhattan to live in a town of perpetual festivals?”

“Shouldn't it be me trying to convince you to move here and not the other way around?”

He looked up as his eyes focused on the river in the distance. “There's a wildness here, an untamed beauty, that is so freeing and inspiring. And being here with you, it's the dream for me.”

His warm hands wrapped around my face as his eyes looked deeply into mine. “If you don't want this, I will go wherever you want. Just say the word.”

“I love it, all of it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

His mouth crushed down on mine and I could feel his excitement in the humming of his muscles. He broke the kiss, looking both hot and sheepish. The contrast was so odd I asked bluntly. “What's the look for?”