‘It’ll be a bit tricky for me with one hand, but that would be nice,’ I say. ‘I don’t know if Nan has any cards though.’
‘She does,’ Kael replies. He goes over to a small table in the corner of the room and produces a pack of cards from a tiny drawer hidden in its side. I’m reminded once again that I’m the stranger here. He knows more about this house and my own family, and my own past than I do.
‘You obviously spend a lot of time here,’ I observe.
‘Yes.’ We’re back to one word answers.
Kael pulls one of the armchairs closer to the opposite side of the coffee table, deals seven cards to each of us, puts the pack face-down in the middle and turns the top card around.
‘Hope you remember how to play Rummy? You first.’
‘Remember? Did we used to play Rummy together?’
He glances up at me, like he’s surprised at what I asked, but his jaw works again.
‘It was your favorite game,’ he says, almost reluctantly. ‘When the adults were playing bridge, we’d sit on the floor and play Rummy for hours, or should I say, you’d thrash me for hours.’
I give him a tentative smile, surprised that he’s shared this much.
‘It’s still my favorite card game,’ I say, ‘but I don’t often get to play it, being an only child. Solitaire, on the other hand, I’m pro.’
‘Thank goodness, maybe I’ve got a fighting chance then.’
Kael smiles back at me and I feel like I’ve won a little war.
We play cards until my sides hurt from giggling and my stomach rumbles. Kael teases me when he hears the gurgle and goes into the kitchen to make us something to eat for lunch. I lie back on the chaise, drape my injured arm across my stomach and close my eyes. I’m like a lazy cat, basking in the sunlight.
The last few hours have been so relaxing and also enlightening. The Kael I glimpsed that first weekend, hiding beneath the hard shell has made a long overdue appearance. This Kael smiles at me lob-sidedly, laughs and teases. I like him – a lot. I’ve purposely kept the conversation light in order to draw him out. So far, it’s working.
By the time Kael re-enters the room with a tray filled with crackers, cheese and fruit, I’m half-dozing. He sets it gently down on the table but I bolt upright.
‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘you can have a little nap, you need it.’
My cheeks feel warm as he sits down, not on the armchair opposite, but on the chaise beside me. He puts a slice of cheese onto a salt cracker and offers it to me. As I take it, our fingers brush and that familiar electric shock courses through me. My first instinct is to pull away, but my eyes meet his and I leave my hand there, frozen in the act of acceptance.
The electricity surges into me, runs down my arm, to my wrist, back up and through my body, into his. It heats the marking on my stomach as it courses the length of me and I see an answering spark in Kael’s eyes. My heart quickens and my breathing becomes shallow. My wrist scar is no longer tingling – it’s burning, radiating heat to the very core of me and making every inch ache.
Kael wrenches his hand away from mine and I realize that he too, is breathing hard. We stare at one another. My throat feels like sandpaper, but I force the words out in a hoarse whisper.
‘Is that normal?’
Kael’s eyes dip to my lips as I speak. He shakes his head and with visible effort, forces them back up to mine.
‘I don’t know,’ he says. He stands abruptly and turns away from me, shaking his wrist, which, like mine, must still be throbbing, then he curses and stalks from the room.
Chapter 20
Trust
Tastes like: Warm apple-pie
Smells like: Your Dad’s aftershave
Sounds like: A baby’s laugh
Feels like: Holding hands
Looks like: A child, leaping into the arms of his father
We’ve taken two steps forward and three steps back. Kael has barely spoken to me since he walked out on Monday and it’s Friday already. This is much worse than before though. Maybe it’s because I know the Kael that hides beneath the hard exterior a little better; I’ve chatted with him, shared stories and laughed with him. His latest banishment feels like a personal affront to me.
I still don’t know what I’ve done to make the muscle in his jaw tighten and flex again but it hurts that he doesn’t trust me - because that’s what it is – a lack of trust. Kael doesn’t trust me with his true self.
‘How’s your head and your arm?’ he asks. It’s the one question he asks every morning now, even though he won’t look at me when he speaks. What do you care, I want to shout back at him, but instead, I give him the same answer I have given every other day this week.
‘Fine.’
My voice is resigned, it sounds the way I feel and it’s no co-incidence that it’s one syllable. My wrist is actually much better – probably better than it should be after only a few days. I’ve stopped wearing the sling, but I’m still wrapping the wrist.
I turn back to the window, preparing to complete the rest of the journey in silence as we’ve done the past week, but Kael surprises me.
‘I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow,’ he says.
‘Oh, are we going somewhere?’
‘Yes, on a date.’
‘Excuse me?’ I turn to stare at him.
‘Tristan is taking you to Lydney gardens for a picnic.’
‘Oh,’ I say, feeling inexplicably disappointed. ‘But why isn’t he fetching me?’ I ask, trying to quash my inappropriate reaction.
‘You’re not driving with him.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I said so.’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ I argue, crossing my arms over my chest in an x and glaring at him. ‘There have got to be full sentences somewhere in that vocab.’
Kael gives me a funny look and I want to shake him.
‘Why can’t I drive with Tristan?’
‘Because I don’t trust him.’
‘What do you mean you don’t trust him? What did he do?’
‘He hasn’t done anything. I just don’t know him yet, so I don’t trust him.’
‘You don’t know him? I ask. ‘But didn’t you grow up together?’
‘No.’ he says, ‘Tristan only arrived a couple days before you. I’ve barely said two words to the guy.’
‘Oh.’ I nibble on the end of my thumbnail, peeking from the edge of the bandage. For some reason, I’d just assumed Tristan was part of the Forest of Dean Glen. It’s a little unsettling to think that nobody knows him, yet they’re expecting me to marry a stranger. ‘Then, where’s he from?’
‘Why don’t you ask him?’
‘Oh, come on!’ I say, ‘I’m not asking for your pin number.’
The corner of Kael’s mouth twitches.
‘Dalby forest, his parents own an estate there.’
‘So, he came down here…for me?’
Kael nods, eyes still on the road.
‘Tanya sent for him as soon as we knew you were coming.’
I stop chewing my nail and twirl my ponytail into a tight coil around my other hand.
‘Why him?’
Kael shoots me a puzzled look.
‘Because he’s your fiancé.’
‘No,’ I interrupt, ‘I mean, why was Tristan chosen for me?’
Kael sighs. ‘You’ll have to ask your grandmother.’
‘But -’
‘Listen, Shaylee,’ he says, with a hint of annoyance. ‘There are just some things Tanya should explain to you and anything to do with Tristan falls into that category, capish?’
Kael tightens his grip on the steering wheel and looks resolutely at the road ahead. It’s a dismissal, but I’m not ready to be dismissed. He’s woken up my tiger with all this secrecy and one-word responses.
‘So are you going to come on all my dates then?’ I ask, with a touch of insolence.
Kael’s jaw works again and this time, I hear his teeth grinding toget
her.
‘For now,’ he says.
‘And what if he wants to kiss me?’ I know I’m pushing dangerously close to the edge when his knuckles turn white on the steering wheel and he grinds his teeth together again. I should shut up, but it’s just too difficult to control what comes out of my mouth when I’m feeling this way. ‘Are you going to stand and watch?’
The minute the words are out of my mouth I feel blazing heat race into my cheeks. Kael whips his head around and glares at me. I try to appear brazen, but inside, I’m wishing I’d bitten my tongue off a minute earlier. Why the hell did I say that? I have absolutely no intention of kissing anyone in the near future. What possessed me to say such a stupid thing?
It’s me who turns away first, to stare, unseeing out of the window. I wish I could erase the picture my own words have formed in my mind and I wish I could understand why, even when I speak of kissing Tristan, it isn’t his lips I’m thinking of.
True to his word, Kael collects me at ten am Saturday morning. There are telltale shadows beneath his eyes that match my own. I saw his light burning at two this morning when I roused myself from the window seat to crawl onto my mattress and I can’t help but wonder if I was the reason for his restlessness.
Kael doesn’t say much on the ride to Lydney Gardens, apart from a comment about my wrist, which is not in a sling today. Besides a little stiffness; it feels almost back to normal. His silence is just as well, because between thoughts of yesterday’s botched conversation and today’s impending date, my mind is a tangled mess.
‘Shaylee, are you alright?’ Kael asks, leaning across the centre console of the truck to release my safety belt. He peers at me, looking a little concerned and curious at the same time. I get the feeling he’s asked me something.
‘Huh?’ I say, and close my eyes in a cringe. God, I sound like such an idiot.
‘I said we’re here. Are you feeling alright?’
‘Yes,’ I say hastily, ‘I guess I’m just a little nervous.’
He gives a curt nod, climbs out the truck and comes around to open the passenger door for me. When we walk into the gardens, we’re greeted by a riot of fragrance and colour. The air is perfumed with magnolia, lily and lavender, and the landscaped gardens are ablaze with shades of red and white roses, pale pink cherry trees, olive and lime green ferns, and purple violets that remind me of the precious little bedside plant I had to leave behind.
I follow Kael past a couple lying, legs intertwined on a faded beige picnic blanket, around a whispering fountain and through a group of young boys, tossing a soccer-ball between them. I am so enthralled by my surroundings that I nearly walk straight into Kael when he stops at a blue-and-white-checkered blanket spread out close to the edge of a pond. Two sugar-encrusted champagne flutes lie beside a bowl of strawberries on the blanket, next to Tristan, who smiles, stands in one fluid movement and holds his hand out to me. He is like a golden college fraternity boy, in his tight stone-washed jeans and casual button-down shirt.
I give him my hand and he raises it to his lips, his eyes riveted to my face. When his lips touch my hand, I draw in a quick breath at the tingle of warmth that travels up my arm, toward my heart. Part of me wants to snatch my hand away but somewhere, in the pit of my stomach, I feel a need to step closer, to feel the brush of those lips on my cheek…on my mouth. It’s confusing. The corner of Tristan’s lips curl upwards, as though he can read my thoughts and I flush and look away.
‘Come, sit,’ he says.
I turn toward Kael, embarrassed that he’s witnessed my reaction to Tristan’s kiss, but he is no longer at my side.
‘Your seastnan will be near,’ Tristan says, ‘but you won’t need him today. I promise, you’re safe with me.’
My eyes search the surroundings, but Kael is nowhere in sight. He must be somewhere close though, because I can feel my wrist humming. It’s a stronger hum than usual and I assume it has something to do with the proximity of both Kael and Tristan. I sink to the soft blanket, careful not to bump my arm, fold my legs beneath me and tell myself Tristan is right; I’m safe with him, but inside I don’t feel as secure as when I’m with Kael.
‘I hope you like strawberries?’
Tristan takes a large strawberry from the bowl, dips it into another bowl of cream and holds it out to me.
I look away, toward the family of ducks swimming on the far end of the pond. The thought of his fingers touching my lips sends a confusing thrill down my spine. How can this stranger have such a profound effect on me? Why does his touch feel so wrong and yet so right at the same time? Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug and pop the strawberry into his own mouth.
He chews for a moment, scoots closer on the blanket and takes my uninjured hand in his. I turn my gaze from the ducks to our linked hands and my singing wrist.
‘I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable,’ he says.
‘It’s not that…’ I say, distracted by the way his thumb is making lazy circles on the inside of my wrist. I put my bandaged hand lightly over his and force myself to meet his eyes. ‘It’s just that – this bond – I don’t quite understand it.’
‘What’s to understand?’ he says, smiling, but his eyes have gone a molten green-flecked hazel. I pull my hand from his and he blinks, and then sighs.
‘The bond is not something that needs to be understood. It’s something to be experienced with the body and with the heart. Don’t you feel it, mo cheannsa?’
‘Yes,’ I say hesitantly, ‘but there has to be more, Tristan. Marriage has to be built on something more than physical attraction.’
Tristan is silent for a moment and I find myself fidgeting with my ponytail again.
‘What is it that you’re looking for, Shaylee?’ he says after a while. His eyes search mine and he frowns.
‘Love? Is that what you’re looking for?’ I blush and drop my eyes to my lap. Tristan shifts until he is sitting cross-legged in front of me and he tips my chin up with his hand.
‘There are many types of love, mo cheannsa, one can lead to another.’
‘But what happens when it fades?’ I ask.
‘It won’t.’
‘Physical attraction does fade, Tristan,’ I argue. ‘What happens when all we have in common are the scars on our wrists?’
He looks at me and shakes his head, but I grab his hand in mine and look him straight in the eye.
‘I want more. I want to know that when I’m old and grey, my husband will still look at me and think ‘this is the woman I love and I want to spend every moment left on earth with her’. I want to know that we can still hold a conversation in forty years time that doesn’t revolve around other people’s lives. I want to know that when I walk down the aisle, it’s because I want to, not because of some physical attraction that is a result of a ritual our parents forced on us.’
Tristan is silent, but something flickers in his eyes when I say the last words.
‘Forced on us?’ he says. ‘Is that how you feel?’
When he speaks, I realize it was hurt I saw in his hazel eyes and I am filled with guilt.
‘Yes,’ I say reluctantly. I don’t want to hurt him more, but he needs to understand how I really feel. ‘I never wanted this. I’m seventeen, Tristan. I’m not ready to even think about marriage, let alone marry somebody I don’t know a thing about, and when I do decide one day, I want to be the one to choose my husband, not some group of old foggies who don’t know the first thing about me. When I marry, it will be for love, not duty.’
‘So you’ll defy the Tanistry? And your grandmother?’ Tristan asks.
I don’t tell him of my agreement with Nan, it doesn’t make a difference because I will defy her too if necessary.
‘Yes,’ I say.
Tristan stares at me and a range of emotions races across his face. I imagine I see surprise, disappointment, admiration and resolution before he finally speaks.
‘Well then I guess I know what I need to do,’ he says. ‘I’ll just ha
ve to make you fall in love with me.’
Chapter 21
Déjà vu
Tastes like: Apples…and apples again
Smells like: Something familiar
Sounds like: An alarm clock
Feels like: Spinning in a circle
Looks like: Twins
I’m beginning to understand why my grandmother was so sure I’d want to marry Tristan. Yesterday’s date was a pleasant surprise. Tristan is kind, genuinely interested in what I have to say and incredibly charming.
The only blight on an otherwise perfect day ended up being the end, when Kael had appeared from nowhere to collect me. There had been a brief moment, right when I’d said my goodbyes to Tristan, when I’d stood, one hand on Kael’s arm and the other in Tristan’s hand. In that instant, I’d felt a surge of energy, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced, course through my body. I’m sure Tristan and Kael had felt it too, because they’d instantly dropped their hands from mine and I’d been left feeling oddly bereft.
Kael had been unapproachable the whole way home. I could feel the anger coming off him in waves, although I still have no clue what I did to deserve it. I’ve spent the entire day trying to pluck up the courage to ask Kael to take me to the GC Green meeting this evening at Michelle’s. Now it’s five thirty and I still haven’t asked him.
I pluck the little card with the address from my jeans pocket and review the Google map on my phone-screen again. It’s only a few blocks away. The sun is setting but it’s still light enough to walk the short distance. I eye the huge oak outside my window, judge the distance to the ground, and make a split decision.
What he doesn’t know won’t kill him and I’ll be back before anyone realizes I’m gone anyway. I put my phone on silent, slip it into my jeans pocket, quietly slide my window open and put one foot gingerly onto the nearest branch of the oak tree. When it supports my weight, I step out onto the branch and make my way carefully to the middle of the tree, where the branches are sturdier. When I reach the trunk, I shimmy from branch to branch, making my way as slowly and as quietly as possible down to the ground.
Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) Page 12