by L C Kincaide
“Yes. It was lovely.”
She started at the brush against her arm and she turned her head to find John standing by her side. His chocolate colored eyes regarded her with sympathy and her throat went dry. Her heart hammered and Grace excused herself leaving them alone.
“How are you doing?” He asked keeping his voice low.
How was she doing? She remembered how he had sounded when she awakened in the hospital. “There you are”, he’d said, their newly forged bond strong. Where to start?
“I’m sorry about your mom. It must have been terrible for you being so far from home.”
“Thanks. It was, but Sir Theo was amazing. He took care of everything.” What else could she say? All the questions she had saved up to ask — what happened to us? What happened to you? Why have you forgotten me? Don’t you give a damn anymore? Why do I even care? — waited trapped deep inside her.
“We should talk.” He said. “I don’t like what’s happened between us. It seems wrong for us to end this way.”
Oh. For a split second her hopes soared only to be crushed. “Okay. Tomorrow?” She replied as if to a stranger in a voice she wasn’t sure was hers.
“Name the time and place and I’ll be there.” His eyes regarded her kindly, but without the warmth of intimacy she had seen there before and it chilled her. Had she been too hard on him when she first found out? It would have made no difference. He had already moved on by then, but she hadn’t known that yet. She bit her lip to keep it from trembling. You’re not going to start blubbering! They agreed on a time and she watched his retreating back. The sight of him walking away nearly undid her. Damn! Her head felt lighter, and the room was dangerously close to tipping.
“Come on.” Rachel had her by the elbow and was steering her down the hall. Emma gratefully dropped to her bed. Rachel closed the door.
“Okay. That was bad.” She said handing her a glass of water.
“I thought I’d be okay seeing him again. I really did.” Emma drained the glass.
“Lie down. I’ll be back with some food.”
Emma fell onto the pillows hoping no one, especially John had seen her performance. At least her disappearance would not raise eyebrows after what she had been through the past week.
Rachel returned with a loaded plate. “You have to eat at least half of this because I’m a regular noshing machine and this dress is in danger of splitting.” She set the plate on the nightstand and Emma scooted over making room for her on the bed. “Just look at those ankles! I never thought I’d see cankles on me!” She said in tones of wonder and disgust.
“That’s a nice color.”
“Thanks. I had a pedi last week for a treat. I never see my feet anymore.”
She handed Emma the plate. “Eat.”
Emma grinned at her and obeyed. “Yes, mama-bear.”
Rachel was complaining, but the truth was, she had never seen her this beautiful. Flushed with health, she was radiating with the new life she carried. “All pregnant women should be as lucky to look half as good as you.”
Rachel beamed. “Just one of the reasons you’re my favorite girl — Oh!” She started and grabbed Emma’s hand. “Feel that?” She placed it on her shifting belly.
“Wow! You have a regular acrobat in there!”
“Don’t I know it!” Good, she thought. Emma was distracted and eating… well, nibbling. Damn John anyway. What the hell was wrong with him? She was set to give him a good whap upside the head for upsetting Emma this way.
“We’re meeting tomorrow.” Emma said. “At the hotel. In his suite.” Where it all began.
“Are you sure that’s the best place?”
“My apartment is not an option, and I didn’t want to go into anything in public. Besides, it’s not like I’ll ever be going back to that hotel so no memories.”
“I guess.” Rachel said not convinced. “I’d go with you, but that would be one person too many.”
“I’ll be okay.” Emma tried to sound confident. “Don’t let today cloud your judgement. I’m still a tough chick in leather.”
“You are.” She patted her hand. “I’ll be with you in spirit.”
“I know.”
“That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind setting him straight.”
Emma grinned. “I wouldn’t mind seeing that, actually.”
“Darn right. I could sit on him for starters!” She said vehemently.
Emma snorted picturing it. Soon they were both giggling into their hands, the stress of the past week finding its escape. The more they tried to stop the worse it became and tears streamed down their cheeks.
“Oh my God! I’m going to pee myself!” Rachel shrieked into a pillow.
“Not in my bed, you don’t!”
They both all but screamed out loud. If anyone heard them neither seemed to care. Grief was a strange thing.
~*~
He was wearing jeans and a V neck cotton sweater with the sleeves pushed up looking his usual cute preppy self though the tender expression in his eyes was gone. Seeing him seemed for a moment as if the last few months had fallen away and everything was still the same between them, but that was only a painful illusion.
“Can I get you anything? Bottled water, a drink?” He faced her standing in the middle of the corporate suite.
How about an explanation? “No thanks. I’m fine.” Emma said more stiffly than she intended.
The room hadn’t changed from her last visit weeks ago, she noted with a pang, and tomorrow, they would not be waking together in the bedroom next door. She remembered their first morning sharing breakfast delighted and hopeful of something special starting between them. Maybe coming here was a mistake after all. Having practiced this scenario in her head didn’t mean it would play out that way, and she braced herself.
“You look good.” He said. “I’m sorry for how hard it’s been on you. I’ve said it before, you’re one of the bravest people I know.”
So, all was not forgotten. “Thanks.”
He motioned to her to take a seat on the couch and sat down himself a discreet distance away. He studied his hands before speaking.
“Emma, you know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Her hands wanted to bunch. Sure — exactly the thing someone says just before they do.
“I’m so sorry you had to find out the way you did. I was planning on telling you when I got back.” He said referring to his extended stay in Japan, for which he would leave soon.
“Why?” She asked. “Why did you keep going through the motions when you knew all along we had no future?”
“But that’s just the thing. I didn’t know. Then all the responsibilities piled up, and it’s a lame excuse, but everything else began to slip away from me including you. I tried not to let it and I thought if we talked and saw each other as often as possible, I could hold on to you, to us.”
“I didn’t realize it would be so hard.” She said bitterly.
“Oh, Emma, it wasn’t like that.” He said emphatically reaching for her hand. “You’ve always been a part of my life and last year something I never expected happened between us, a special and wondrous bond I can’t begin to explain.”
“But it’s gone now. Is that what you’re saying?”
“It’s changed. You’re right about that.” He glanced away for a moment. “The truth is, and I hope you believe me, is that I do love you. I have since we were little and you will always have a special place in my heart.”
His hand held hers, a cold, lifeless thing. She’d pull it back, but saw no point.
“I’m so sorry to have hurt you.” He continued. “More sorry than anything I can think of. You deserve so much better.”
If he was going to say, it’s me not you, she would throw up. “Wel
l, I can appreciate that.” She said wondering what force was guiding the cool-headed responses because she felt anything but calm. “But I don’t understand how you could have forgotten everything that happened between us. You were in a coma. So was I and yet, it’s all pretty clear to me, not that I can explain it.” She leaned toward him. “You were there with me in the manor. I know it.”
“What I’m sure of deep down was having to be with you to protect you at any cost as if I were driven by some force. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me.”
“Yes, I remember you helping me figure out how to put an end to Victoria’s rampage, which by the way, you could have mentioned to your parents, she being the one behind our collective nightmare.”
“You’re right. What Victoria did cast us Ruskins in shame and I will tell them. I never intended for you to take the blame and I deeply regret having let this go on as long as it has.” He watched her with unease as if struggling to recall anything. “I’m sorry, Emma. I know I’m repeating myself, but I mean every word. I wish I could remember, I honestly do if it would help you.”
“Do you mean that, John? Do you really?” Her hand squeezed his. She tried to believe him, but it wasn’t easy. If only she didn’t have those memories, his loss wouldn’t be so cruel. The annual Weekends were now a thing of the past. There would be no more. She may never see him again.
“Yes.”
“Then come with me. Or meet me there — at the manor, and if still nothing comes back, I’ll let it go.” Let you go. She watched him intently. Please, say you will. A tiny though persistent ember of hope flickered within her, God knows why. She still hadn’t given up on him. Not completely. Why was it so hard?
“All right. When?”
“When do you have to be back?”
“Not for a couple of days. I can meet you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Okay. How about one?”
“Sure. That sounds good.”
Emma exhaled more encouraged than she felt coming in. She smiled. “I’m glad you’re doing this.” She gave his hand a light squeeze before taking it back.
He returned her smile, his eyes warming and her heart ached at the familiarity. She rose to her feet before her emotions started up again, and he walked her to the door.
“I’m glad we had this talk.” He said, his tone sincere. “You are one special lady, Emma Stuart. Never forget that. I know I never will.” He smiled ruefully. “Not that.”
She gave him a quizzical look, but thought against trying to analyze him. It hadn’t exactly worked out for her lately.
~*~
The trip seemed to take forever. By the time she crossed the corbel bridge, cold sweat ran in rivulets down her sides and her mouth was dry. She took a swig of water from the bottle and turned up the curved drive toward the manor. It loomed forlorn amidst the verdant landscape, a sorry sight which didn’t improve as she neared.
Arriving first, she got out of the car and cast a glance at her surroundings. On a sunny day, the worn pinkish granite radiated in a warm light. She tried to see past the crumbling mortar and the grimy windowpanes and flaking paint; the grass encroaching onto the thinning drive, and weeds exploding in shaggy clumps all around the building.
Matthew had carried her to the car last year, so he must have locked up too because she didn’t remember doing that nor leaving. A shiver took hold of her. She had no memory of that, nor of what happened immediately before, but suspected it was then when a lock of her hair had turned white.
She gazed at a vibrant expanse of a green field that stretched ahead, dotted with bright yellow dandelions. Good luck to anyone trying to play croquet in that. The scent of lilac drifted on the breeze and Emma squinted into the distance for John. Checking her phone, it was just past one. Maybe he was late and unable to reach her. This was not an Everdon Manor with WiFi reception, only filled with ghosts and memories though not all were bad.
After a few minutes, she paced the drive. He said he would be here. He’d promised her, but no car was crossing the bridge. To distract herself, Emma’s thoughts turned to their previous Weekends. She had a lifetime’s worth of those. Until recently, only mum had been communicating with the ghosts, or rather one talking to her. And she had thought her mother off in the deep end over that. She sighed — sorry mum. It was her turn now.
Growing more nervous with every pace, she sat on the top stoop. Where was he? An hour later and still alone with a numb bottom, she accepted that he wasn’t coming. Her spirits sank, disappointment leaving a bitter aftertaste on her tongue. She could get in the car or go inside. Seeing the manor again might spark a lost memory.
With a heavy heart, Emma unlocked the padlock and let the chain unravel to the step in a way that was eerily familiar. The door opened to the central hall illuminating the broken remnants of her last visit in the sunlight pouring from above. Splinters and caning from a shattered wheelchair lay strewn on the rumpled worn carpet, along with pieces of dining room chairs. From the remains, it was hard to tell how many. A portrait leaned against a pillar facing away from the mess. After visiting the original manor and its lovingly restored interior, she had expected to find this place looking ten times worse in comparison. Now that she was here, it was closer to a hundred.
The door behind her remained open reassuring her that no entity was about to take her hostage, and emboldened, she went to the parlor. Her chest tightened at the makeshift campsite; the settee angled near the door, cold ashes in the fireplace. An empty wine bottle and two glasses sat on the cooler where she had left them, all powdered with a thin coating of dust. Daylight strained through the dirty glass. So much happened in this room. She could still see John in the chair gazing into the flames, thinking about a strategy that would allow them to leave unharmed. Would he ever remember what transpired here? Why did his memories of everything they had experienced since coming home gradually fade away until there was nothing leaving her alone with hers?
Tears burned her eyes and spilled over and a lump pushed up her throat. The pair of wineglasses taunted her, and she strode over and picked one up. A second later, it crashed into the fireplace raising a cloud of ashes. Damn it anyway! What was the point of pretending? He hadn’t planned on coming. All of this was nothing more than a dream forgotten upon waking — make that a nightmare — leaving her alone to keep reliving it. Anger surged through her at the injustice. Hadn’t she done what was asked of her?
She stormed out of the room and stopped beneath the skylight. Sunlight brightened the pattern on the ancient carpet enhancing the curlicue border in wine and gold against a faded burgundy. How she despised this rug and what it covered that much more. They should have tried harder to get rid of the bloodstain. If nothing else worked, she would have taken a sledgehammer to it herself if one had been left lying around.
The silence hummed deep and oppressive in the vastness. She turned in a circle searching for them, peering behind the pillars and into shadowy corners for a telltale shimmer of light or a displacement of air like a ripple in a clear pond, but saw neither. They were here though. That Everdon Manor had been completely abandoned was not possible.
Something close to rage shot through her.
“Mason!” She shouted toward the stairs. His name echoed around her.
“MASON!” Came out as a scream. “Where the hell are you?” The silence prevailed. She was yelling at a ghost in the middle of a ruined mansion. Only an Everdon would find this normal. Upstairs no gaslights flickered. It didn’t matter. She wasn’t going up there.
“Did you kill my mother?” The question was out, not that she expected an answer. She blamed herself equally, but he had done so much more harm it made her blood boil.
“You got everything you wanted! I hope you’re satisfied!” Was he even listening? He had to be. Tears flowed freely as her frustration mounted and her fingernails dug into her tr
embling hands.
“Damn you for messing with our lives! And screw you for being so freaking selfish! Yeah, I know what you did to Clara. That’s right! I know all about it! By the way, this place you said you love so much — it’s a dump! It should have burned to the ground when that Ruskin bitch tried to do it and we would have all been spared, and I wouldn’t be standing here wondering why my life is a freaking mess!” She gasped. “Thank you so much!” She delivered what she hoped was a parting shot. “You know what? I’m too tired to give a damn anymore. It can crumble into a pile of rubble for all I care! I’m done! Are you listening? Maybe it’s just as well the family dies out, and it’s sure looking that way with me, anyway.”
Taking a ragged breath, Emma tried to steady her trembling. She still had a long drive back, providing he didn’t do something to her, possibly kill her. Well, there was nothing she could do about that. No one had ever been able to stop him.
The silence got on her nerves as she waited for a response in the sunny patch on the faded rug. Slowly, she unclenched her fingers. He wasn’t going to show himself, nor Amelia, nor anyone else.
“Enjoy your damned legacy!” She took a final sweep of the bleak central hall and strode to the door letting it slam behind her. Looping the chain through the iron handles, she turned the key in the padlock and crossed the drive to her car. The engine revved to life and she drove toward the bridge without taking a backward glance in the rearview mirror.
She was done.
“So?” Rachel greeted her as she came in. The hesitation in her voice betrayed an anxiety she had tried to keep in check.
“He didn’t show.”
Her features crumpled. “I’m sorry.”
Emma shrugged with resignation. “The Everdons and Ruskins were never a good mix.” She tossed her purse on a chair. “I guess I can put all that behind me.” She flopped down on the couch. It was nearing suppertime and Matthew would be home soon.