“Rented it,” he said. “And just to alleviate any concerns you may have about the legality of all of this, let me mention that I bought the car, and the dress, and the shoes. Any more questions? No? Good. Now tell me, why are you grounded?”
“I guess you’re determined to ruin the evening,” I said sourly.
His resolute expression changed. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to do anything of the sort. I just . . . want to get to know you. That’s all.”
“Maybe when you are more open about yourself, we can have that conversation.” I pushed the soup away.
A sad, defeated smiled curled his lips. “Fair enough.”
Filet mignon and braised potatoes followed the soup. I ate in silence, relishing every bite while he talked about some of the changes that had occurred in the almost twenty years since the last time he was released. When he mentioned being baffled by the internet, I remembered something.
“Hey, how did you get trapped in a stone? When I read online, I found nothing on how Djinn end up in lamps or bottles or stones.”
Faris’s posture changed. Suddenly stiff, he looked as if he was biting his tongue, which reminded me of his earlier struggle to speak.
“Is this . . . something else you can’t talk about, like in the car?” I asked.
He tried to say something but faltered. Pushing the chair aside, he stood up and started pacing.
“Why can’t you talk about it?” I pressed.
He stopped, braced his arm against the mantel, and stared into the fire. His free hand pushed on his stomach.
I laughed nervously. “I can relate. Talking about my ex or Robert makes me want to vomit sometimes.”
“It seems like we’re both destined to ruin each other’s evening with questions,” he said, pulling away from the fireplace. “Let’s try to enjoy our crème brûlée and the rest of the night, shall we? I promise,” he touched his breast pocket, “I’ll ask nothing else.”
After the scrumptious dessert, I wanted to walk outside. The house was lovely, but the oak-lined path touched my soul with its timeless beauty. Faris took my hand and led the way. Once outside, he stood at a distance, watching me in silence. I twirled under the thick canopy, head thrown back, arms outstretched to the side, feeling free and lightheaded from the glass of wine I’d ended up drinking just to prove to Faris that I wasn’t too serious.
“How old do you think they are?” I asked, still twirling.
“Three hundred years old,” he said, his voice terribly close all of a sudden.
Startled, I lost my balance. He caught me, wrapping an arm around my waist. My head spun, but those darks eyes anchored me.
“Careful.” He pressed a hand to the small of my back and slid the other around my bare shoulder.
“I’m all right.” I tried to push him away, but his grip was firm.
“Would you like to dance?” he asked.
“What?” I gave a nervous laugh. “There’s no music.” Even before I finished my sentence, music started playing. “A waltz?! Who knows how to dance that anymore?”
“You do,” he said and with that he spun me around and around.
Suddenly, I was floating. My hair unraveled and blew into the night, dancing with the wind. My feet moved in perfect unison with his. My dress billowed and glimmered as it caught the light. An unexpected laughter bubbled to my throat. Faris laughed with me, spinning faster, never unlocking his gaze from mine. I was terribly aware of his hard body against my own, his hands holding me in place and the way I was the center of his undivided attention.
As we spun, I felt free, far from all my problems, from the hollowed out sensation I’d felt ever since breaking up with Jeremy. Here and now, believing, trusting someone, even Faris, seemed possible again—not a double edged sword. If only for a second, I dared to hope and expect happiness. And amazingly enough, I even had fun.
***
I put my dress and shoes away, a faint smile still on my lips. I’d wanted to stay out all night, but a mountain of work waited for me in the morning. Once under the covers, my smile disappeared as thoughts of Robert returned. He hadn’t come back yet. Maybe he never would.
I sighed. One night of fun was just that. Nothing more.
After an hour of sleep, I woke up when the front door closed with a thump. There was movement in Grandpa’s room. Robert was back from wherever he’d gone. I looked at the clock. Fifteen minutes past one. I exhaled and hated to find I’d been anxious for him to return.
Just what I needed! Something else to worry about.
I jerked the covers up to my chin and tried to go back to sleep, but remembered the Cheshire cat nightmare. My feet felt suddenly exposed. I tossed and turned until I got out of bed and found a thick pair of socks, slipped them on and imagined that maybe, just maybe, Faris stood nearby, making sure nothing bad happened.
16
Dressed to go jogging, I went downstairs, sneakers in hand. Grandpa’s—or now Robert’s—bedroom door was closed. I used the bathroom quietly and slipped outside. I waited for Maven, but, again, he didn’t show. Five miles seemed impossible without company today, but I managed.
Back after my run, I poured a glass of water in the kitchen sink, and, as I turned to go upstairs, Robert’s bedroom door opened and a woman came out. I stared, speechless. She closed the door behind her and tiptoed into the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she whispered. She wore a pair of capri pants and a silk top. Her auburn hair hung behind in a tight ponytail. “I’m Janet.” She extended a freckled hand in greeting. “I’m your dad’s—”
Bile made my mouth go sour. “I don’t wanna know.” I squeezed past the woman and ran to my bedroom. I threw some clean clothes in my bag and headed out. Janet, coffee carafe in hand, watched me stomp through the kitchen.
She could make herself comfortable. It wasn’t entirely my house, after all. I would have told her as much if I didn’t feel like vomiting.
On my way to the nursery, I distracted myself by making a mental list of all the things I needed to get done. Go over cash flow, ready a paycheck for Javier, verify orders, and other mundane things. By the time I got there, I had a long list inside my head and stepped out of the car, ready for a full day of mind-numbing activities.
I marched toward the nursery and froze as I keyed the lock, feeling as if someone had pushed a sheet of ice against my back. I jerked my head around and looked over my shoulder. Those woods! What was it about them lately?
Something moved in the underbrush, and for some reason, the Cheshire nightmare came to mind. I swallowed, but there was hardly enough spittle in my mouth. A wave of fear hit me all at once, and I rushed inside and locked everything behind me.
After barricading the shack’s door with a chair, I sat staring at it, and, gradually, became aware of a different sort of presence. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath. My heart slowed and a feeling of safety flooded me.
“Faris?” I asked in a whisper. Nothing, but he was there. I could feel him. “Faris,” I repeated. This time, it wasn’t a question. A pleasant scent filled the air and a dark shape appeared at the corner of my eye.
“How did you know I was here?” he asked, perplexed.
I didn’t know how and wasn’t ready to consider any possibilities. “I don’t like being spied on,” I said.
“Good morning, Faris. How are things since the last time I saw you?” he said, impersonating me to perfection. “Oh, thank you for asking, Marielle. I had a lovely, lovely evening,” he added in an insinuating tone.
Annoyed by his attitude, I took a leather bag from the desk, unblocked the door, and went outside. After a moment, he came out and stood silently, watching my every move. I could sense his eyes on me and the feeling of his gaze on my body was pleasant, so unlike the creepy sensation from the woods.
“Why the chair?” he asked.
“Just a safety measure. I think you’ve made me paranoid with all your concern.” I unzipped the leather bag and pulled out a roll of cash
.
“Safety from what?” He sounded intrigued, but I suspected—by the way he’d been acting—that he had his own theories. Theories he seemed unable to talk about.
I counted all the twenty dollar bills. “Nothing in particular,” I said because it felt ridiculous to suggest that crows and black cats had developed a thing for me. Because I still suspected him—even if just a little—of pulling tricks on me. And because the possibility of someone as real as Jeremy being behind all this was too freaking scary to consider.
Faris didn’t seem satisfied by my answer. He looked toward the top of the woods, beyond the chain-link fence. Something flashed across his eyes.
“Are you truly unable to lie to me?” I asked, noticing his unease.
He looked taken aback by the question. “Yes.”
I put the money on the counter. “Truly?” I pressed, taking a step in his direction and peering into his eyes with determination.
He responded with a forward step of his own and held my gaze. “Truly. I cannot lie to you.”
I’d believed him before, and I believed him now. Still, I couldn’t admit it so readily. “Is your name really Faris Nasser?”
“Yes.” He took another step and stared without blinking. I could almost feel his breath on me.
“How old are you?” I asked, holding my own. I wasn’t about to lose this staring contest.
He thought for a second. “I’m nineteen. That’s the easiest answer.” His eyelids lowered a little, an almost imperceptible sign of sadness, not surrender.
“What do you mean the easiest answer?”
“It’s complicated.”
I hated it when he started with his mysterious airs. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. What I really want to know is how long you were in there,” I pointed at the shack, “watching me?”
Faris looked surprised.
“How long?” I pressed.
“Since . . . you came in.”
“And before that, this morning, where were you?” I wanted an explanation for the icy feeling on my back, for the certainty that someone was constantly watching me from those woods, for the Cheshire nightmare. It all felt too real to just blame my overactive imagination.
He inched nearer, any closer and our noses would touch. “I was also with you. As well as last night, while you slept. And before that, and every instant ever since that second day. With you, always with you. The truth is, I find myself unable to leave your side—even if you ask me to.”
The air between us suddenly wasn’t enough. I felt faint. We were so close that our hands brushed for an instant. I thought of pulling away, but who was I kidding? I wanted to blame him and his tricks for my inability to move. But this stiffness, this unwillingness, came from within me. I knew I should ask him to leave. Right now. But those dark eyes held me and bore deep into my soul.
He placed a hand on my wrist, then let his fingers travel up to the crook of my elbow. There he stopped and pulled me closer still. He slid his other hand to the nape of my neck and raked his fingers through my hair. Tilting me back, he grazed my neck with soft, wet lips, tracing a path to my earlobe. He brushed my jaw with his lower lip and made a deep sound in his throat.
My belly tightened with a pang of desire. I pulled him closer and dug my fingers into his smooth, black hair. His name left my lips in a rush of warm air.
A faraway sound scratched the surface of my awareness, but this moment was almost sound proof, like being in a place where only our breaths and thumping hearts mattered. I felt both lost and painstakingly aware of where I stood, while Faris mirrored my state to perfection.
He pulled away, lips parted, eyes full of passion. After a moment, he leaned in closer until our lips were only millimeters apart. It was insanity, but I wanted it. His kiss. His caress. Suddenly, the distance between us seemed insurmountable. I had to close the gap or I’d fall into the abyss that was the space between our mouths. I closed my eyes and gave in, expecting to reach the sky.
“Marielle?!” A confused voice broke the spell.
We tore apart from each other, and I felt myself fall into loss and regret. The moment was gone.
Robert stared, mouth slack, eyes wild and uncomprehending. “What the . . . ?” His bony chest pumped with fury, showing his ribs through a frail, ragged shirt. Bewilderment contorted his face. “You?!” He shook his head from side to side and seemed to vibrate on the spot. “It can’t be.”
Faris took a step away from me, wincing as if he’d just taken the wrong turn in his own neighborhood—a stupid, miscalculated mistake he should have never made. With quick strides, Robert closed the distance and slammed a fist across Faris’s jaw, propelling him backward.
“What is the matter with you?” I yelled.
Faris rubbed his chin and spit on the ground. To my utter disbelief, blood colored his lip, challenging all of my conceptions about Djinn and their powers. More than that, I couldn’t understand why he had just stood there, waiting to be punched. Why hadn’t he just . . . disappeared?
I got between the two and pushed Robert away. “Are you nuts?!”
“Keep away from my daughter, you . . . you . . .” But Robert couldn’t find the right name to give Faris. Instead, he looked disconcerted, as if this were an alcohol-induced hallucination.
“I better leave,” Faris said.
“Damn right. If you get close to her again, I swear I’ll kill you.”
“You stay out of my business,” I told Robert.
Faris walked away without looking back.
I watched him go, then turned to Robert. “Get out! The house might be yours, but the nursery is mine. I don’t want you here.”
He rubbed his knuckles. “This doesn’t make any sense. He looks . . . the same. Where did you meet that man?” he demanded.
“Don’t you know who he is? Didn’t Grandpa tell you?”
“Sure I know who he is. That’s the same man who claimed to be Dad’s friend and then tried to seduce my wife!”
“He did what?” A pang of nausea upturned my stomach.
“Tried to seduce your mother, bewitched her somehow,” Robert said, suddenly looking very tired. “But this must be a nightmare.” He sat on the stool behind the counter, rubbing his forehead as if to jolt himself out of a bad dream. “He looks the same. That can’t be.”
I figured any sort of meaningful conversation with Robert was a gift he didn’t deserve. He’d abandoned me for five years. Talking to him was like letting him win, like saying, “it’s okay that you left, that you didn’t care enough about me.” Still, I couldn’t ignore his wild claim.
I searched my mind for past conversations, something that would explain Robert’s ignorance of the Djinn. Then it came to me. “Grandpa said you never believed him.”
Robert looked puzzled.
“About the Djinn,” I continued. “He said you always called it nonsense, even when you were a kid.”
“What are trying to say?”
“That’s the Djinn. Faris is the Djinn from Grandpa’s tales,” I said it calmly, looking him straight in the eye. If he believed me, fine. If he didn’t, that was his problem. For my part, I only cared about getting this story straight. “What makes you think he tried to seduce Mom?”
“The Djinn?” A wild understanding shone in his eyes.
“Yes, the Djinn. Now, answer my question.”
“That was a long time ago. I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw and looking as spent as an old, scrawny greyhound.
I held his gaze without flinching, saying without words that if he ever wanted another chance, he’d better start talking.
He seemed to understand. “Uh . . . it was before you were born. Rachel and I were going through a rough patch when Faris came along. I always wondered about him. He seemed so . . . there. So cool and collected all the time. I hated him, but he was Dad’s friend.” He huffed. “I never imagined . . .” He broke off, a sudden realization appeared on his face like re
demption from the heavens. “He did have a spell on her, then. That explains everything.” A sad smile of relief stretched his lips, but it was short-lived. There seemed to be little reward in confirming his past suspicions. If anything, he grew sadder still. “I confronted her, blamed her and accused her of . . . .” He lowered his face in shame.
“What happened after that?”
“Nothing. Faris just disappeared.” He nodded slowly, probably seeing clearer than ever. “He disappeared after I told Dad what his friend was up to.”
I crumpled to one of the steps in front of the shack, understanding pouring over me. It was all a game after all. A trick Faris had tried to pull on Mom and now was trying to pull on me. Grandpa had been right all along.
And I had fallen for it, had even started trusting in him, just to be duped again. Everything I’d felt with him was an illusion, a cheap trick. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I blinked hard and stood up.
“There are things I need to get done before we open. If you’ll excuse me.”
“Marielle, wait,” Robert got to his feet. It seemed a great effort after what he’d just learned. “I came to talk to you about Janet.”
“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it. It’s none of my business. It’s your house, as you so plainly put it. Besides, I’ll be making arrangements to move out as soon as I can.” Maybe even today. I hated to be forced into making a selfish wish, but what alternative did I have now?
“You don’t have to do that. Janet’s just an old friend. It’s not what you’re thinking.” His pasty cheeks turned red. “She’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain.”
He looked relieved. “Listen. I know a lot has happened. I’ve been gone for a while . . .” The pasty color returned to his face, making me aware of the careworn lines time and pain had stamped on his features. This was difficult for him. It was obvious. Despite myself, I felt sorry for him.
He tried again. “The thing is, I’d like . . . very much for you to . . . give me another chance.” The last four words came out clipped. He exhaled loudly.
So this was where my inability to express my feelings came from. Another great inheritance! I’d never known that about Robert. Mom had always been there to do the talking. He’d always been good when it came to piggyback rides or cheering at soccer matches. Emotions—I understood now—were not his department.
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