by L.H. Cosway
“You don’t know how much that means,” Vee choked, squeezing my hand before letting go and climbing into her car. I stood back, and Noah slid his hand into mine. We watched as she drove off, feeling like a weight had been lifted.
Her car disappeared around the corner at the end of the street, and I glanced up at Noah, still unable to believe he was alive. My heart didn’t know what to do with itself. I remembered something I wanted to ask him, and I placed my free hand on his chest. “Did you take a picture of me from my room? It’s a sketch that Aoife drew.”
His lips curled in a heart stopping grin. “I might’ve.”
My chest fluttered, butterflies wreaking havoc with my insides. “Why?”
“Because I like your face,” he replied, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to my mouth. “It’s my favourite.”
I giggled, then sighed when he deepened the kiss, my hands fisting his shirt. A deep, guttural sound emanated from the back of his throat and arousal shattered through me. I moaned into the kiss, and his hands travelled down my back, squeezing my bottom. He hummed before giving it a light pat and breaking the kiss. The sirens were close now. “We need to get out of here,” he breathed, guiding me over to the bike. “Here you go,” he said, his voice laced with affection as he handed me the helmet.
“We’re going to have to get another one of these,” I said as I put it on.
“It’s the first thing on the list,” Noah replied, leaning down to kiss me again.
“What’s the second thing?” I whispered seductively against his mouth.
He groaned and drew away. “I’ll tell you when you’re older.”
I chuckled and climbed on the back of his bike, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding on tight. I twisted my neck, taking one final glance at the flames rising out of Ard na Mara. With a bit of luck, the ghosts that lingered in its walls would be obliterated, too.
“Good riddance,” I said, and Noah laughed huskily as he revved the engine, and we roared away. I didn’t look back as we sailed down the road and out of town. I might never return to this place, but I wasn’t sad about it. I was happy, content and full of hope for the future, whatever it might hold.
Epilogue.
Nine months later.
Warsaw, Poland.
I always wanted to travel, but I never thought I’d see so many countries in such a short space of time. The first place we went was Spain, where we joined Aoife and Jimmy who were on holiday there. It was great to see my friends, and since then, we’d been keeping in touch online as much as we could. Aoife was studying for a degree in art back home, and she and Jimmy were looking for a place to move in together.
After Spain came Italy. I adored the history and the food, the social way of life. Noah picked up languages so quickly he was almost able to converse with the locals as though he was one of them within weeks. It consistently amazed me, and there was the added benefit of him being able to teach me enough words and phrases to get by on my own.
Eventually, after sampling much of what Europe had to offer, we settled here in Warsaw. Noah’s friend, Tadeusz, had returned here several years ago, and was able to help us find an amazing apartment with a reasonable rent. Tadeusz was an interesting guy, and I saw how he and Noah got along. At sixteen he’d been sent to a young offender’s prison for trying to rob a bank with a fake gun. That’s where the two of them became friends, forming a special bond. He’d since cleaned up his act, and now ran a small café in the centre of the city.
Once the fire was put out, Vee sold the land that remained at Ard na Mara for a reasonable sum, splitting it three ways with Noah and me. She and Noah talked often on the phone, and I was glad to hear she was doing well. She’d gotten herself a small cottage and a job at a coffee shop close by.
I used the money from Vee to enrol in an online college course, since my Polish was still rusty, and there was no way I’d be able to understand college lectures at any of the universities here yet. So far, I loved being able to set my own timetable, engrossing myself in my psychology and philosophy of religion modules from the comfort of my own laptop. I sometimes emailed with Sister Dorothy, and she was always delighted to hear about my travels and the goings-on in my life.
Noah used his portion of the money to purchase a small storefront not far from Tadeusz’s café, which he was currently transforming into his very own furniture store, specializing in his favourite Twentieth Century designs. I was excited to help him with the grand opening.
It was springtime, and we wandered the streets hand in hand. I adored this city, a mix of old and new. It seemed like every style of European architectural design was present, from baroque and neoclassical, to gothic and renaissance. Then there were the Brutalist Communist era apartment blocks, harkening back to a time of severity. Warsaw had many intricacies, many contrasts. Every day I found something new to be enthralled by.
Noah cast me a sidelong glance, and I smiled. To look at us, you’d think we were a pair of young lovers without a care in the world. You’d never guess the horrors we’d run from.
Since we started on our travels, I learned so much more about Noah and his arrival into my world. He told me about his plan to return to Ard na Mara and reveal the truth about Victor, Sylvia and their friends. And Hawkins in particular. Hawkins had gone on with his life like he hadn’t just ruined someone else’s when he claimed Noah was the one to attack Victor and not the other way around. I had no sympathy for whatever hardships he was currently enduring. After serving eight years in prison, I understood Noah’s need for reprisal.
Noah intentionally befriended his parent’s old pals, organising the parties and get-togethers to lure them in and gain their trust. He also confirmed Hawkins, McBride, O’Hare and Riordan made money from Victor’s investments, and that was why they stayed quiet for so many years. They’d allowed Victor his miscreant ways, so long as his financial success went on to benefit them. It seemed this was why they began stealing public money, since with Victor gone their pockets were no longer quite so heavy.
Noah told me about how he’d clung to religion as a young boy as a way to deal with Victor’s abuse. His faith kept him going, helped him endure the same way mine did after Dad passed away. Then when he discovered the truth of his parentage, that faith died a quick death, his prison sentence sealing the deal. He couldn’t believe in a God who would let such things come to pass.
I could hardly blame him.
I still had dreams, but now they were of different people, showing me different past events. Wherever we went, my nights were spent reliving things that happened to people I’d never met. Luckily though, the sleep paralysis was gone, and I started to believe it had been Victor’s ghost possessing me all along. I certainly didn’t miss it.
I was still trying to convince Noah of my psychic abilities, but he was sceptical.
“I think they’re just dreams, Estella. How can you possibly see into the past?” Noah said as we walked. I’d tried to convince him time and again, but he remained in a state of affectionate disbelief. Often at night, we’d sit in our apartment and debate, which sometimes turned into passionate arguments, which inevitably led to intense, passionate sex.
I wasn’t complaining. In a strange way, I respected his disbelief. There was something fascinating about how different our views were. Me, the believer, and him, the sceptic, yet we still loved each other deeply and passionately. It proved to me you didn’t have to agree with someone on every issue in order to love them entirely. In fact, sometimes their opposing opinions made you love them more because they challenged you. They forced you to constantly reassess and think about what you did believe in.
You also learned how to compromise for the sake of your love.
Every Sunday here in Warsaw, Noah got up early and came with me to church. He did it for no other reason than it was important to me, and that meant more than I could ever express in words. Well, I also knew that my religious belief fascinated him just as much as his lack thereof fa
scinated me.
Our opposing ideologies certainly kept things interesting.
“I’m telling you, everywhere we go, every building we stay in, I dream of the past occupants. They tell me their stories just like Ard na Mara told me yours.”
His smile dimmed at my mention of the house he grew up in. He couldn’t argue with the small details I knew, details he hadn’t told those who attended the remembrance ceremony. Like how Sylvia would hit him and force him to write with his right hand, or how Vee would come to comfort him after Victor’s beatings.
“Why are you so adamant not to believe me?” I asked softly.
He didn’t answer for a long moment. Then, finally, he stopped walking and came to stand in front of me. He cupped my face in his hands, his eyes flickering back and forth between mine. “Because I love you, and if it really is true, then I can’t stand it. I can’t stand the thought of you being subjected to such dreams night after night.”
My throat grew heavy with emotion. I hadn’t expected his explanation. I thought he was simply being sceptical. He really did love me, and he didn’t want me to suffer in the same way I didn’t want him to. “I’ve been having them for a long time,” I told him, reaching up to smooth my hand over his. “It’s not pleasant, but I’ve learned to get used to it. Besides,” I said, whispering now, “if I get to wake up from my dreams with your arms around me then it’s worth it.”
His expression softened, and he bent down to kiss me. We stood on the busy city street, kissing in a way too intimate for public viewing. Noah always seemed to do that to me. I couldn’t be controlled with him, nor him with me. Our hunger for one another never faded, not even after all these months together.
I drew back, breathing heavily, cheeks red when I saw several passers-by eyeing us. It wasn’t their fault. I’d stare too if I saw a couple kissing on the street the way Noah kissed me.
“Come on, we should get to the restaurant. They’ll give our table to other customers,” I said, and Noah’s lips curled into a smirk as he brought his mouth to my ear. “Maybe we should skip dinner. We can always order food later.”
I shook my head, refusing to be swayed by his sexy smirk. “I made this reservation two weeks ago. We’re not skipping it.”
Noah shot me a reluctant smirk, and we continued to the city’s best French restaurant. Ever since the dinner Noah and I shared on my nineteenth birthday, I’d been dying for another chocolate souffle.
I ordered goat cheese with red peppers and honey for a shared starter, and mussels with pommes frites for my main. Noah opted for the chicken cordon bleu. We shared bites with one another from our dishes, but when it came time for dessert, I insisted Noah order his own.
“Bossy,” he said with a grin, levelling me with a heated look before bringing his attention back to the waitress. “I’ll have the crème brûlée. Thank you.”
“And two espressos,” I added.
The waitress nodded and left, and Noah shook his head at me. “What is with these espressos you keep ordering at the end of meals? Do you enjoy stomach acid?”
“It’s the continental way. We’re not islanders anymore,” I replied, smiling. “We must act accordingly.”
“I think that’s just something people think continental Europeans do,” Noah countered.
“Well, whatever. I like it, so I’m doing it. Also, can we walk the long way home? Pretty please?”
Noah sighed. “Fine, but when we get back clothes are forbidden.”
“I think I can abide by that,” I answered, shooting him a sultry glance.
When we left the restaurant, Noah indulged my penchant for a late evening stroll by some of the city’s most beautiful buildings. I was especially taken with Holy Cross Church and its baroque design.
“As much as I don’t get your fascination with this place, the expression on your face right now is worth traipsing here every few days,” Noah said fondly.
“Did you know that Chopin’s heart is interred inside? It was pickled in a glass jar and encased in a stone pillar as a loving gesture to his home country. Isn’t that beautiful?”
“It’s certainly dark,” Noah replied with a wry smile.
“I don’t think so,” I countered. “It’s morbid, sure, but wouldn’t you like your heart to be placed somewhere meaningful after you die?”
He squeezed my hand, affection in his voice. “So long as it’s with yours, I don’t care where it’s placed.”
His response made my chest flutter. I sent him a loving smile, nuzzling my nose into his coat before we finally continued our walk. Instead of going straight back to our apartment, Noah led me to his as of yet unopened furniture store. He turned his key in the lock, pushing open the door and reaching for the light switch.
I looked around, stunned by how much progress he’d made since I was last here. The place was more or less ready for business, each item carefully selected and displayed in a way that was pleasing to the eye.
“It looks amazing,” I breathed, taking it all in.
Noah came to stand next to me, sliding his arm around my waist. “It’s been a labour of love. Come, I have something to show you.”
He led me to the back of the store, clicking on a beautiful, ornate Tiffany lamp to reveal the cosiest little nook I’d ever seen. It was complete with a velvet loveseat covered in lots of cushions with a cashmere blanket thrown over the back. A small coffee table sat in front of it on which sat coasters and a little potted fern.
“I had this vision of you studying here while I tend to customers,” he said, and my throat clogged with emotion. I was speechless. “Do you like it?” Noah asked, his voice hopeful.
I turned to him and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I adore it. You are quite possibly the best boyfriend in the entire universe. This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He bent forward, tipping his nose to mine. “I like having you close.”
“I’ll always be close,” I promised, whispering my lips across his.
“How close?” he asked.
I tilted my head a little. “Hmm, let’s just say, I’m about to draw up a will that stipulates our hearts be pickled together in a glass jar after we die.”
A low, rumbly chuckle emanated from deep in his chest as his lips returned to mine. “So morbid. We were made for each other.”
“Yes, we were,” I agreed.
A flurry of butterflies filled my stomach when he deepened the kiss, and moments later we were entwined together on the loveseat, losing ourselves in one another. Our meeting seemed fated. I wasn’t sure I’d have survived Ard na Mara without Noah, and maybe he wouldn’t have survived it without me.
I no longer believed in curses, but I did believe that to live was to suffer. However, it was the sweet, heart fluttering moments like this, and the exhilaratingly exciting ones scattered in between, that made all the darkness, all the pain and the anguish worth it. Every adventure consisted of up and downs, peaks and troughs, but with my heart and his together, we’d not only survive.
We would flourish.
END.
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Six of Hearts Sneak Peek
If you enjoyed Beyond the Sea then you might also like L.H. Cosway’s highly acclaimed Six of Hearts, available now in Kindle Unlimited. Read on for a sneak peek.
BLURB:
When Jay Fields, world-renowned illusionist, walks into her dad’s law firm Matilda is struck speechless. Not only is he one of the most attractive and charismatic men she’s ever met, he’s also a mystery to be solved.
Jay wants to sue a newspaper for defamation, but all is not what it seems. Matilda is determined to discover the true story behind Jay, however, when he becomes an unexpected roommate, she is not ready for how he will wheedle his way into her affections and steal her heart.
T
he man is a mystery wrapped in an enigma, and though she can’t yet see the bigger picture, Matilda can’t resist following along for the thrilling and heart-stopping ride.
EXCERPT:
Making my way down the narrow staircase that leads out of the building and onto the street, I bump into a tall man with golden-brown hair. I wouldn’t normally notice a man’s hair so specifically, but this guy has some serious style going on. It’s cut tight at the sides and left long on the top, kind of like a sexy villain in a movie set in the 1920s. I stare up at him, wide-eyed. He’s wearing a very nice navy suit with a leather satchel bag slung over his shoulder. Even though it was the first thing I noticed, his hair pales in comparison to the wonder that is his face. I don’t think I’ve ever been up close to such a handsome example of the male species in my life.
Why can’t men like this write to me online? I ponder dejectedly.
Because men like this don’t even know the meaning of the term “socially awkward,” my brain answers.
My five-foot-something stares up at his six-foot-whatever, and I think to myself, what’s a prize like you doing in a dive like this? Actually, now that I’m looking at him, he does seem vaguely familiar, but I can’t put my finger on where I’ve seen him before.
Probably on the pages of a fashion magazine, if his looks are anything to go by.
If it hasn’t already been deduced from the fact that I can’t even find a date using the romantic connection slut that is the Internet, then I’ll spell it out. I’m useless with men, and I’m talking all men. Even the nice approachable fellows. And I’m not looking at a nice approachable fellow right now. I’m looking at a “chew you up and spit you out” tiger.
Rawr.
Since the entrance to the building is so narrow, we have to skirt around each other. I give him a hesitant smile and a shrug. His eyes sparkle with some kind of hidden knowledge as he lets me pass, like beautiful people know the meaning of the universe and are amused by us ordinary folks who have to bumble along in the dark.