Awaken, Shadows of a Forgotten Past

by Marcia Maidana

  With twilight closing in, it was a long walk back to the house. I was cold and miserable, and the uncomfortable scene back at the meadow played over and over in my thoughts. I couldn’t understand why my questions made him so furious. But of one thing I was certain: he would never tell me the truth, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anymore. At some point, I had slipped over the edge of infatuation and was definitely falling towards love. No matter what his past was, I didn’t want anything to change that. I decided to close my eyes to reality. All I wanted was to love him. Nothing else mattered.

  8

  ~ Surrendered ~

  I felt responsible for our predicament and was greatly relieved when Oak’s Place came into view. The storm raged on with marked determination; it was here to stay.

  Mr. Snider, having spotted us from the back gallery, came running across the yard to our aid. Wearing his full rain gear, he was ready to take over the drenched horses.

  “Allow me, sir,” said Mr. Snider, reaching for the reins.

  “Make sure they are completely dry before you leave them for the night,” Alex instructed. “Thank you, Mr. Snider.”

  “Zaira has warm soup waiting for you,” Mr. Snider called over his shoulder.

  Alex walked briskly through the heavy rain towards the house, obviously angry at me, or perhaps more so at himself. I hurried to catch up with him. Tripping on an uneven stone on the path, I lost my footing. My reflexes were slow to react, and with a thump I fell flat to the ground, hitting my face on the muddy grass.

  “Florence!” Alex shouted in panic, turning back. “Are you all right?” He pulled me up into his arms. All the accumulated emotions of the long day reached its peak, and I broke down crying. “Florence, please, speak to me. Are you hurt?” He lowered his face to touch mine. “Please tell me you are okay.” His soft lips touched my cheek as he spoke, and I trembled, not because I was wet and hurt, but because I had never felt so warm in my whole life. At that instant, the rain, the coldness, the humiliation, the anger, vanished all together.

  “I’m fine,” I sobbed, feeling the rain engulfing us.

  “Are you sure? You don’t sound like it.” He pulled my face up to look at him and suddenly chuckled.

  “Is there something amusing?” Lost in his gaze for a split second, I thought he was having a difficult time restraining himself from kissing me.

  “There is mud all over your face,” he observed. My cry turned into a laugh; I must’ve looked hideous. “Let’s get to the house.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me along. “We need to get you inside.”

  Zaira awaited us in the kitchen, a look of concern on her face. I made my way straight to the sink to wash off the mud. In the corner of my eye, I saw Alex bending on his knees to unlace his shoes.

  “Oh my, Florence, you’re soaking wet,” Zaira stated the obvious.

  The water from the faucet felt brutally cold on my skin. As if in slow motion, I watched the clear water run through my hands, turn dark, and slip down the drain until there was no mud left on my skin. I then braced myself to let the water touch my face and the ends of my hair. Zaira handed me a towel. I pressed it on my face a long while before drying my hair.

  I turned to see Alex placing his shoes and socks at the base of the fireplace. He then proceeded to take off his sodden cardigan followed by his shirt. His bare back and shoulders appeared stronger and broader, his waist thinner, than I would have imagined. But it wasn’t until Alex turned to retrieve a towel from the small stack that Zaira had placed on the table, that I felt as if the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs. I stood perplexed observing him as he swiftly dried his face and torso. Even though my gaze focused on his chest, I suddenly became aware that he knew of my intrusion.

  “Here, here,” Zaira said, calling me back to the present. I then realized how awkward the situation must have been for her, and perhaps for Alex. Yet, not for me—they must have assumed that I was staring at his well-defined figure. What they did not know is what had me so badly shaken was the scar he had on the left side of his chest, near his heart. In my mind, there was no doubt that the scar was the product of a gunshot wound. I had seen it happen in my dream, I had ripped his shirt open trying to stop the bleeding, I had seen the wound, and it had felt very real to me. How in the world could I have had such an accurate dream? A dream where a reality I had never lived was a part of my soul. “Come sit here by the fire.” She wrapped a blanket around my shivering body and handed another to Alex.

  We sat across from each other, feeling the warmth from the dancing flames. Alex’s eyes fixed on the crackling fire, his mind lost somewhere in time.

  For a few brief moments, I forgot about my dream and the scar on his chest, my mind was back in the meadow and then laughing with him in the rain, and I had a light-filled happiness that seemed to fill my entire being. I stole a glance at Alex and whatever demons haunted him had been temporarily banished, but I feared that they hadn’t fled very far.

  “These will have to do,” Zaira said to herself, placing a handful of candles on the kitchen table. “It’s a matter of time now until the power goes out.”

  “Hopefully it won’t,” I whispered. Just then, the lights started to flicker, and my body shook a little underneath the blanket.

  “Are you warm enough?” Zaira asked from the other end of the room, as she pulled out a few bowls from a cupboard.

  “I’m getting there,” I replied. Alex remained silent. I searched for his eyes, but I was unable to meet them. “Sorry about the mess,” I apologized to Zaira; we had generously spread mud and water all over the floor.

  “Don’t worry about that. Oh, I almost forgot, Sister Dolores called. She was worried about you.” Zaira handed large bowls of broccoli soup to both Alex and me.

  “Oh, my goodness! I forgot about Granny. I should’ve been back home already.”

  “You’ll have to stay here tonight.” Alex spoke for the first time since returning to the house.

  “I can’t. I should be at the monastery. Granny will be sick with worry.”

  “I’m sure she will. But there is an amazing invention called the telephone.” His face was stern, but I knew he was joking. “Why don’t you call her?”

  “Yes, I told her that you would call as soon as you could,” said Zaira.

  “I have never seen a storm like this!” Mr. Snider exclaimed, suddenly emerging from the dark gallery. “At this rate, it’s going to destroy everything in its path.”

  “How are the horses?” Alex inquired as lightning struck, making the evening bright as day.

  “A bit scared, but they’ll be fine. I’ll check on them a little later.” Mr. Snider’s nervousness was evident. He moved around the kitchen like a caged cat. Between the grounds, the horses, and the fireplaces, it would be an endless night for him.

  “You’ll have to stay here tonight,” Alex repeated.

  “Really, I’ll be fine,” I protested. “It’s just a little rain.” I took another spoonful of soup to my lips; my shivering body welcomed its warmth.

  “Florence, there’s no way I’ll let you go out in that storm. A power line or a tree could come down. The road could wash out. You’ll stay here.”

  Normally my dander would have been right up at his high-handedness, but I didn’t really relish the thought of going back out in the cold and rain. Besides, I could tell from his tone that any argument would be futile. And there was such a look of intense affection in his eyes that left no room for doubt; he was truly concerned for my safety.

  Alex broke our connection and turned to Zaira. “Where is Mrs. White?”

  “Sorry, sir, but with all the commotion, I forgot to tell you that neither Mrs. White nor Mr. Vines are back from town yet.” Zaira took our empty dishes to the large sink.

  “Very well then, would you help Miss Contini get settled in the guest room? She needs some dry clothes as well.”

  “Of course, I’ll get her some of mine.” Zaira grabbed her raincoat along with an umbrella o
ff a hook on the wall, ready to head into the storm towards the servants’ quarters.

  “I’ll come with you,” Mr. Snider said hastily. “It’s too dangerous out there.”

  “I’ll be fine. Stay and get warm.”

  “Nonsense, let’s go.”

  Once the door closed behind them, a heavy silence between us prevailed for what seemed an eternity. I wanted so desperately to tell Alex how I felt about him. He was there, so close to me, yet the words eluded me.

  “Go call the monastery,” he ordered.

  I wrapped the blanket around my body a little tighter, and my feet mechanically walked out of the kitchen to my office. My swift steps had nothing to do with obedience—I had already made such a fool of myself, and at the verge of running into Alex’s arms, I walked away to avoid doing something, again, that I might regret later. Our earlier disagreement at the meadow had taught me not to press him; I would just let things follow their course.

  The phone rang once before Granny answered. “Child! I was so worried about you!” There was a happy and relieved vibration in her voice. “Zaira said you went out but didn’t tell me where. I thought that you drove back home and got caught in the storm.”

  “I’m sorry that I didn’t call before, Granny. Things got a little crazy around here when the storm broke. I was busy—” I stopped; there was no need to cause her unnecessary concern.

  “Are you really doing well?”

  “Yes. I just don’t know how I’m going to get home.” I sighed.

  “Get home! Are you crazy?” She sounded alarmed. “Don’t you know there is no visibility out there? It’s impossible to drive in these conditions; it would be suicidal. Under no circumstances are you to leave Oak’s Place. Did you hear me?”

  “Is it really that bad?”

  “Florence, I don’t think you realize the seriousness of the storm.”

  “No, I guess not. How long do you think it’s going to last?”

  “I don’t know. But a long while for sure.” Granny’s voice calmed down a little. “You stay there with Zaira until it’s safe to be on the road.”

  “Sounds like I have no choice. How is the monastery?”

  “All is well here. Not even a cannon ball could get through these thick walls.”

  Her words made me smile. “Keep Sister Callahan inside those walls.”

  “Don’t worry about that. Her fear of thunder has confined her to prayer.”

  “Her prayers might be the reason for this violent weather,” I joked. Granny broke into a hard laugh.

  “Florence, be safe. I love you.” Granny was all business now.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you too—good ni—” I was interrupted by a loud blast; it sounded as if a bomb had been dropped on the house. The line went dead at the same time the power went out. The memory of the many candles lying on the kitchen table was a true comfort now.

  In darkness, holding on to the walls, I made my way back to the kitchen to find it deserted. Aided by the dim light coming from the fireplace, I lit the candles.

  It had been a long, emotionally exhausting day. A day when I had confronted Alex’s fears as well as mine. Being in solitude, I allowed myself to acknowledge how lonely and tired I felt.

  The back door swung open and a chilling breeze blew in. “Wretched weather!” Zaira cried out. “The wind broke the umbrella into pieces.” She dropped the bag in her hand on the floor to squeeze the water from her hair. “Good thing I had this to keep my clothes dry.” Zaira took off the raincoat and hung it on a hook close to the fireplace.

  “I can’t imagine it getting any worse.” I sat by the fire, my wet blouse and skirt clinging to my skin. I readjusted the blanket around my shoulders fearing that the coldness would soon become unbearable.

  “I brought some dry clothes. Nothing fancy like yours, but they will work.” Zaira handed me the bag.

  “Thank you, Zaira.”

  “Did you talk to Sister Dolores?”

  “Yes. She is a lot better off than we are. The monastery is a fortress.”

  “That’s good news. Let’s hope Oak’s Place will survive the storm. Otherwise, we’ll move to the monastery,” Zaira teased.

  “There is plenty of room there.”

  “Indeed, there is. Can you imagine Mr. Sterling staying at the monastery?” Zaira laughed. “I don’t picture him getting along with Sister Dolores—she would end his solitude without warning.”

  “I agree.” I sighed. “But I’m afraid that Granny will never have that opportunity. I don’t think Mr. Sterling will ever set foot at the monastery.”

  “Oh well, you better change before you catch a cold. Hang your wet clothes by the fireplace in the dining room or they won’t be dry tomorrow. Mr. Snider will keep the fire going.” Zaira grabbed a mop to swiftly attack the muddy floor.

  “I will. Thank you. But where did you leave him?”

  “In the stables comforting the horses.” Under Zaira’s sturdy hands, the mop danced across the kitchen floor, effortlessly absorbing the evidence of the storm.

  “What about Mr. Sterling?”

  “I don’t know, probably changing. I doubt we’ll see him again tonight. He looked a little ill.” A flood of thoughts ran through my mind at her words. I hoped the incident wouldn’t worsen his health. I hoped he would forget his frustration in the forest. I hoped I could forget. “Florence, what are you thinking about? Go change.” Zaira waved her hand in front of my face.

  “Yes, I better do that.” I smiled vaguely. “But do you need help?”

  “Oh no, I’ll be fine. Just go and get some sleep. The guest room is ready, but let me know if you need anything. I’ll be up for quite a while, and Mr. Snider will be back soon. I’ll prepare some tea. After all, I couldn’t sleep even if I wanted to.” She glanced at the darkened window. “Come back if you’d like some tea—go quickly now—you’re turning blue from the cold.”

  I left the kitchen holding tight to the damp blanket around my shoulders with one hand and balancing a candlestick and the bag of dry clothing with the other.

  The cold stone floor felt like ice on my bare feet. My hands struggled to strip off the damp clothes, the chill in the air instantly hitting my body. I quickly threw on Zaira’s long nightgown. It swamped me like an oversized dress from the seventeenth century, but it served its purpose to retain whatever body heat I had left.

  I blew out the candles and crawled into the soft bed, pulling the covers tightly around my body. Outside my window, I observed the silhouettes of the trees’ branches dancing vigorously to the rhythm of the wind; banging on the glass, they made it impossible to relax.

  “Hang your wet clothes by the fireplace…” Zaira’s earlier words shot through my memory with the force of a bullet. The prospect of abandoning the warmth I had finally found under the covers to walk through the cold house was unappealing. I tossed on the bed, closed my eyes, and concentrated on falling asleep, until the image of me wearing Zaira’s clothing in the morning surged into my mind. I was surprised at how fast I leaped to my feet and made my way down to the dining room, carrying the damp blanket along with my clothes.

  The dining room’s fire was burning low. Spreading the wet clothing in front of the hearth, I wondered how often Mr. Snider would check on it. Another lightning bolt hit near the house, and the walls shook.

  Two strong hands grabbed me from behind. I shrieked in fear.

  “It’s just me,” Alex whispered.

  “You scared me,” I stammered.

  “I’m sorry—you are freezing.”

  “It’s impossible to sleep tonight.”

  “Come sit by the fireplace in my office,” he invited, guiding me through the darkness.

  The fire was burning brightly in Alex’s office.

  He picked up a blanket from the arm of a nearby chair and tucked it around my shoulders. I could feel his closeness, and I thought he would embrace me, but after a moment, he placed his hand on my back and walked me to the sofa.
/>   I sat down, leaving a space between us, self-conscious about the way my body continued to shudder.

  “Are you scared?” he asked. The light from the fire shone in his blue eyes.

  “I don’t like storms, but I’m not scared of them.”

  “I wasn’t talking about the storm.” His eyes were fixed on me now.

  “What else is there to be scared of?” I hugged the blanket tighter.

  “Me—are you afraid to be with me?”

  I had to think about his question for a few seconds. “No, of course I’m not.”

  “After the way I behaved today,” he reflected with a trace of shame in his voice.

  “It was my fault. I pushed too hard.”

  “Florence, you are beautiful—so beautiful that it hurts to look at you.”

  The bluntness of his words and the firmness in his tone thrilled me, but I hardly dared to believe that Alex had just said what I’d heard. Considering the uncertainty that prevailed around him, I wouldn’t allow myself to get my hopes up. My gaze fixed on the blazing fire; I hardly felt its heat in the face of the feelings raging inside me.

  Alex stretched his arms out, pulling me into his warmth. The strength with which he held me assured me that he wouldn’t let go. The same searing feelings of contentment I had experienced in some of my dreams were now a reality—I felt safe. I settled my head on his chest and fell asleep.

  When I awoke, it was daylight. Still cozy from the deep sleep, I replayed the previous day in my mind. Had it all been a dream? The meadow, the horses, the storm? His arms wrapped around me during the night?

  My eyelids parted, and I became fully aware that Alex’s arms were still holding me. Slowly, I looked up at his face, trying not to wake him. His long, thick eyelashes were tightly closed. There was no trace of pain on his face; he looked younger, innocent. I yearned for that moment to last forever, but I feared that when he awoke, he would push me away. I placed my face back on his chest and closed my eyes.

  Alex made a small movement, and my eyes opened. His arms tightened around me, making sure I was still here. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he apologized, letting me know he knew I was awake.