by Amelia Grace
Chapter Ten
Every moment I walked past the drawing room door my heartbeat accelerated. Retreating from it had solved nothing. Even after two months of calculated ignorance of the room it infiltrated my mind and tugged at my honeysuckle heart of generous and devoted affection for Gran.
Gran’s final wish—just one—that is all she had asked for.
And I wished Nic would return. All I had to do was to kill a couple of plants. I lowered my head in shame. I should have wished Ben was here instead.
I needed him. I missed him.
A sob escaped me. And anger. Anger at Ben not being here with me. I placed my hand over my lavender rose heart and squeezed my eyes shut, lowered myself to my knees and cried. I wanted out!
I should be happy, not an emotional torn mind of confusions that dug into my bones. I deserved to be happy. Everyone deserved to be happy.
I should walk away from Gran’s house—that’s what I should do. That would make me happy. I should bury the problem deep inside my memory so I could never open it again...
That would make me happy...
No ... it wouldn’t. It’s pure avoidance. It’s burying my head in the sand. When I pull my head out the problem would have become a sand dune, shifting when I shifted, blowing into my eyes blinding me, trying to bury me, alive. It would always be there, haunting me, grain by grain. I slammed my hand onto the floor boards. I felt like I was cramped inside a small box with no escape, suffocating.
I shook my head, stood and wiped away my tears. I picked up my cell phone to call Nic. Ben couldn’t be here, but Nic could. Besides, he understood Gran’s drawing room. He would come. He wasn’t off saving the world and uncontactable like Ben! My primrose heart pushed through the dirt I had used to smother it...
I shoved my cell phone back into my pocket when I realised I didn’t have his number. I closed my eyes and rubbed the back of my neck. I had to get out of here. I didn’t want to turn into that ugly angry monster that was lurking inside of me. Damn!
I let out a silent scream and lifted my eyes to the ceiling—
I jumped at the sound of loud knocking at the door and grimaced. I was just in the mood for aggression. Whatever the person dished out at me, I could dish right back.
I sighed and shook my head. This wasn’t me. I was kind and patient and helpful and thoughtful and considerate and compassionate. I was good. I always thought of myself as a good person … whatever good meant … but now … I closed my eyes and shook my head with disappointment in myself.
The door rattled, with each knock rhythmically tapped on to it. I stepped forward and placed my hand on the door knob.
‘Cate … it’s Ben!’ My eyes burned at the sound of his voice. My lip quivered and I took a deep breath.
His head was tilted forward when I opened the door, but he held a crooked smile on his beautiful face and my lavender rose heart awakened and skipped a beat.
He looked up at me with his gorgeous cerulean eyes and I knew that he had returned the missing petals of my lavender rose heart.
I leaned against him, wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders and rested my head on his shoulder. I inhaled his scent—jasmine, musk, oak moss and sandalwood, and knew I was safe.
‘Cate?’ Ben said. He took a small step back from me and looked at me with concern.
I couldn’t fool him. I wasn’t good at covering up my emotions, especially around him. I stepped forward and buried myself in his arms again. I needed the comforting feeling of his body like I needed air to breathe. But he unfolded my arms from around him and stepped back again, and looked into my eyes.
‘Cate?’
I burst into tears. I was trying so hard not to cry, but it was no use.
‘Let’s go inside. I’ll make you a cup of tea and you can tell me what’s going on,’ he said in a quiet voice.
He took my hand in his and he led me to the kitchen. He sat close to me, holding my hand with his fingers twisted through mine. As I spoke he looked into my eyes with depth, like he was reading into my emotions, into the core of my being. He listened carefully to my words. He was exceptional at reading people, and had always been.
I told him about entering Gran’s drawing room, without the Nic details—I needed to protect his heart.
I told him I had found a letter from Gran, without the details about the contents of the letter—I needed to protect my heart.
I told him about the shining gold key that fitted into the highly unusual keyhole hidden beneath the black baby grand piano. And I told him I wanted to lock, bolt and seal Gran’s drawing room and wipe it from my memory, permanently.
He nodded his head occasionally, as a psychologist would do. He did not interrupt me as I poured out my heart to him, and he tenderly wiped away my tears when I became emotional.
When I had finally finished releasing the words and emotion I had bottled up inside he wrapped his arms around me and held me, protecting me, comforting me, accepting me. ‘You can’t give up. Your Gran needs you to fulfill her final request. She knows you can do it. Otherwise she would not have chosen you,’ he whispered.
‘I … can’t do it … not anymore!’
I pushed my hand under his shirt. I needed to feel his warm bare skin against my hand. I really needed him to truly understand how I was feeling and what I was going through.
The gates holding back the remainder of my tears opened and a deep sob escaped from within me. He pulled me closer. ‘We will do this, together … for your Gran,’ he whispered, his warm breath caressing my skin.
I closed my eyes. He always made me feel safe, as if he would put a shield around me where nothing could harm me, or the world.
I breathed deeply and drenched myself in his presence.
The warmth of his body spread to me and I was comforted by the rhythmic beating of his heart. He smelt of jasmine, musk, oak moss and sandalwood—my favourite Ben scent—full of masculinity, and my safe place.
His gentle fingertips traced over my back. I began to relax and feel grounded again. I smiled as I felt the lightest pressure of his soft lips above my eye.
I lifted my head to look into his beautiful cerulean eyes then. They were full of warmth. He held my gaze until I could bear it no more. His love for me was intense and took my breath away.
My lavender rose heart reached up to its source of life giving light. There was nothing more I wanted him to do right now than to kiss me.
But he did not.
Perhaps he was right. Perhaps this was not the right time when I had been so emotional.
I looked deeply into his eyes again and became overwhelmed by my strong and undeniable attraction to him. My lavender rose heart was, after all, love at first sight. I was totally enamored with him—although, I had never told him of my love.
Perhaps I should...
I moved my lips closer to his. If he was not going to kiss me, I would kiss him. Ever so delicately I touched my lips to his, and the world slowed down. Ben pressed his lips to mine with more intent, lingering and intimate. But then he placed his hands on the sides of my face and gently pushed me away.
I didn’t want him to.
But perhaps he was right. Perhaps it was not a good idea to continue with our lip love when I was so emotionally vulnerable.
Did he always have to be right...