The Fey

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by Claudia Hall Christian

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  August 20—2 A.M.

  Denver, Colorado

  Alex crept into the quiet house and stood in the entryway. Max had given her one more hug for courage and left her at the front door. Switching off the entry light, she climbed the stairs. Unsure of what to do, she paused on the landing and wondered if she should sleep in the guest room. When she turned, John was standing in the doorway to their bedroom. He was wearing his pajamas, and his curly, dark hair was sleep tousled, but his eyes scoured her with alert intensity. She took his extended hand, and they stood looking at each other.

  “Would you mind . . . ?” John broke the silence, and then looked embarrassed. “I’d like to see your real eyes.”

  She nodded and went into the bathroom to remove the blue contact lenses. John stood in the bathroom doorway. She turned to look at him, and he smiled.

  “Much better,” he said.

  “I . . .” they said at the same time.

  Alex looked down at the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” John said. “Sorry is not really enough, I know, but I am sorry. Ben told me what happened, and I . . . You’ve had an awful day.”

  She nodded.

  “You said this thing to me, the morning after we were married. You said, ‘As long as we don’t feel like we’ve made a huge mistake, we’ll figure it out as we go.’ Do you feel like you’ve made a mistake?”

  “It’s the lie, John. The lie hurts . . . bad.”

  John closed his eyes against the pain he had placed in her heart.

  “Before you start explaining or telling me why you’ve lied to me for all this time, I think you should answer your own question. Do you feel like you made a mistake?”

  “In marrying you? Never. In not telling you? Oh, Alex, I know you don’t want to hear excuses, but I . . . I couldn’t have had this conversation at twenty years old. I was so overcome by you. I wouldn’t have risked it.”

  “I wouldn’t have cared.”

  “Why do you care now?”

  “You really don’t know?” Alex asked. “Two years ago, I worked as an intelligence officer nestled in, arguably, the best team in Special Forces. I had this amazing marriage to this British guy. I was General Patrick Hargreaves’s daughter. None of that is true today. Everyone is dead. You aren’t my husband, and I’m not Patrick Hargreaves’ anything.”

  “Our relationship is still amazing. I’m still here—just the details are different.”

  Alex closed her eyes and sagged. She was too exhausted to explain and too heartbroken to fight it out.

  “I understand. I do,” John said.

  Alex opened her eyes to look at him.

  “You feel as if every single thing that was true about you has disappeared, and you’re just you.”

  Alex felt a rush of relief for the words, the sounds that made sense out of the whirlwind of her emotions.

  “I’ve felt that way. You probably felt like that when you entered the Army.”

  “Except that there was a reason and a path—start here, and move to there. Today? There’s no reason and certainly no path. Every answer to the question, ‘Who am I?’ has shifted. I feel stripped naked and very alone.”

  “But inside, you’re still the same. Yes.”

  He took her hand and led her past the bathroom to the loveseat in the tiny room he used as his study. He pulled her onto his lap. Tucking her head under his chin, his arms held her close.

  Alex felt as if they were in a small, quiet bubble while chaos swirled around them. She closed her eyes, drawing him in through her senses. He felt the same, smelled the same. He was the same—and different.

  “Misplaced,” Alex said. “Max used the word ‘misplaced’.”

  “Yes. It’s as if you misplaced your life, yourself.”

  “When did you feel like that?”

  “When we moved to London, and then again, when I was in Scotland. I spoke Ulster Gaelic. I had heard English, but I’d never spoke it. I could read English, but I hadn’t been to school . . . probably ever. My life was all family, all the time. Suddenly, I’m in this English-language-only Catholic school in the middle of London, with no Irish people around. Rita worked to support us. She was busy and bereft for herself. I was basically alone. It was like being an apple plucked from a tree filled with apples to sit amongst a bushel of peaches.”

  Alex’s eyes watched his face. He never talked about his childhood. She wondered why she hadn’t noticed.

  “I did well in school because I was desperate to create some traction, some definition of myself—I’m a student; I’ll be a doctor; I’ll make a lot of money. I could not tolerate living in that vast unknown.”

  He looked into her face. “Is that how you feel?”

  Alex nodded. He caressed her face.

  “And yet, the phone has rung off the hook for you. Erin and Matthew waited for you until ten o’clock tonight. I guess she had it out with your father. Raz left his date early to come home. He’s asleep in the basement. Ben rang from the airport, from the plane, and from France. Colin wants me to tell you to ring him. Your father came by this evening. Your mother rang. She’s very upset, by the way. Even Sami rang. And you were off shooting arrows?”

  Alex nodded.

  “With your twin. That’s not to mention me. I’ve been here waiting for you to return to our home, our life, and my love.”

  “It sounds stupid or selfish, but, in some ways, that makes it harder.”

  “Why?”

  Alex closed her eyes for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts.

  “To use your metaphor, I guess because the peaches expect me to be an apple. I just found out that I’m not an apple; I’m an orange. I don’t know how I feel about being an orange.”

  “I think it takes time. Do you feel like you made an awful mistake?”

  “I love you more than I have breath to express.”

  He held her tight against his chest.

  “Good answer,” he said. “I rang in sick tomorrow. I also spoke with your command. Colonel Gordon would like a conversation. Otherwise, you are free for the day. I made some arrangements.”

  “Arrangements?”

  “I scheduled a massage for you first thing. I thought we could spend the day together in the mountains when you’re done. I booked lunch at your favorite restaurant in Aspen. Maybe we can figure out what is next for us.”

  “What about the flock of people?”

  “They’ll be peachy.”

  Alex smiled at his joke. “You hurt Max, too.”

  “Yes, I did,” John said. “But Max has a hearing tomorrow. He’ll be in court most of the day. We can get together tomorrow evening. I made reservations at Sushi Sasa for dinner.”

  “What about your brother?”

  “My brother,” John said. He laughed at the sound of the words. “He has a lot to attend to. We’ll leave him with the peaches.”

  Alex nodded.

  “Come to bed, love. You need rest.”

  He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. One piece at a time, he carefully removed her clothing and helped her into bed. He plucked off his pajamas, and slipped into bed next to her. Lying face to face, he rested on his side.

  Her eyes watched his face while he stroked her hair with delicate care. She ran her fingers over the curves of his familiar face. He kissed the palm of her hand and closed his eyes. She watched him fall asleep. Rolling onto her back, she released into peaceful sleep.

  Sometime before dawn, she opened her eyes to find John watching her. Not quite awake, she smiled and turned to her side to look at him.

  “Will you marry me, Alex?”

  “Of course.”

  F

 

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