by Emme Rollins, Julia Kent, Anna Antonia, Helena Newbury, Aubrey Rose
"Send me the proofs," Eliot said. "I'll look them over."
"I will, I'll go do that right now. Dr. Herceg?"
Eliot stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
"Yes?"
"When...when is Brynn coming back to the academy?" Mark had his hands stuffed awkwardly in his pockets, and he looked at Eliot with a mixture of jealousy and concern. "I haven't seen her in a while."
"Soon, I hope," Eliot said. "When she's ready."
"She didn't call me back," Mark said, his mouth twisted anxiously. A surge of pity swept through Eliot.
"She's having a hard time," Eliot said. "But she should be back before the end of the semester."
"Can you, uh, can you tell her I hope she feels better?" Mark said. "And can you give her this?"
He held out an envelope and Eliot took it. It felt heavy in his hand.
"Thanks, Dr. Herceg," Mark said, averting his eyes. "I'll see you on Monday."
"Yes. I'll see you then," Eliot said.
Driving through the winding streets of the mountains toward his estate, Eliot breathed more easily. The air up here smelled fresher, cooler than in the city. He was glad to live away from the bustle of Budapest, tucked into the forest. Above the entry gate he could see the roofline of his house. Brynn called it the castle, and he supposed it was, technically. He parked on the side of the long driveway and picked a sprig of daisies from one of the flower beds before walking up into the house.
Stepping out of his shoes, Eliot looked into the small mirror in the entryway. He frowned at his face. The white scar running down the side of his cheek was more noticeable now that he had been spending more time outside and his skin was tanned.
Everybody knows me. Everybody knows.
Eliot reached out abruptly and took the mirror off of the wall, placing it face down onto the side mantle.
"Brynn?" He called her name but received no answer. He walked to the kitchen and put the food in the fridge, then saw her through the window outside by the pool. Picking up the envelope and flowers, he opened the back door.
She wore a white bikini, something Marta had bought for her. Brynn hated it at first, but Eliot gave her a wrap to put over it, and gave her also so many compliments that she soon abandoned the wrap when she went outside. Today she lay on her stomach, the wrap forgotten. Her body curved invitingly under the sun, her skin slightly tanned and gleaming, her hair wet from the pool. She stayed close to the house most days, and although she claimed to love the pool, Eliot saw her eyes occasionally flicker in fright toward the forest just beyond the estate. She claimed she stayed away from the forest now because of the summer ticks in the brush, but Eliot knew when she looked into the woods that it was something else she was scared of. As though she could see the hunter waiting for her there.
"Flowers for the princess," Eliot said, walking up to Brynn. She jerked her head up, and Eliot saw the same fear that he saw most nights, when she woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmares. Her expression quickly softened as she saw the daisies.
"Oh, thank you, Eliot," she said. She closed the notebook in front of her quickly, but not quickly enough.
"Is that work?" Eliot said.
"Just the last part of the proof," Brynn said. "I'm close to getting it."
"That's what you said last night at two o'clock," Eliot said.
"Yes, well, it's taking a little longer than planned," Brynn said.
"Don't stress over it," Eliot said. "The main work's been done, at least for this paper—"
"But we haven't solved the problem yet!" Brynn sat up, her dark eyebrows knitting together. He could see a flush rising on her cheeks. It was adorable, really, how she got so worked up over the proof. He remembered when he had been so fervent about his mathematical work. Seeing him smile, she shook her head.
"Sorry," she said. "I really need to relax."
"This isn't relaxing?" Eliot sat down next to her and tilted his head teasingly, trying to lighten the mood. Brynn's laugh came out a bit forced.
"What, sunning myself next to a castle in Hungary while a prince brings me flowers? Hardly!"
"I'm not a prince," Eliot said, lifting one finger in protest.
"Sure thing, prince. Where did this pool come from anyway?" Brynn said. "How did I not notice it when I first came here? It's huge!"
"It was covered up," Eliot said. "And the snow covers it, too."
"You think you know a place, and then the snow melts, and it's completely different." Brynn gazed around the estate. The first time he brought her here, it had been freezing cold.
"It's not that different," Eliot said. He saw her eyes drifting to the forest, to the trail where the hunter had assaulted her, tried to—
He cleared his throat and reached over slightly to touch her knee. He could feel her tense under his touch, and his fingers curled back involuntarily.
"Would you like to come in for some tea?" he said.
"Not right now," Brynn said. "I want to keep working. On the problem and my tan." She turned a smile up toward him, but he could see that all was not right under her shield.
"Of course," he said. He stood up awkwardly. "Oh, and here. Your friend from the academy wanted me to give this to you." He held out the envelope to Brynn, who took it hesitantly.
"Mark?"
"Yes," Eliot said, trying not to let any emotion show on his face as she said the name.
"Thanks," Brynn said. She lay back down on the pool chair, tossing the envelope down on top of her notebook. He could tell she didn't want to make a big deal of it, so he didn't. A strange tension pricked the air between them.
"How are you feeling?" Eliot asked.
"Fine," Brynn said, too politely. "How about you?"
"I'm doing well."
"Well enough to go out to dinner tonight?"
"No." The word came out more sharply than he intended, and he saw its effect on her, her eager face dropping quickly into defense mode. He did not mean to hurt her, never did, but going out in public now... it wasn't a good idea. He remembered the woman at the deli, the way her mouth had turned up into a sneer when she saw his scar, when she remembered him. Ten years, and he was still a public disgrace. Not to mention the cameras that followed him everywhere.
"Fine," she said. Her face had snapped back under its shield.
"Brynn, you know—"
"I said it's fine. I'll just go by myself."
"Do what you want," he said. All of a sudden they were arguing, and he didn't even know what had started it. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to explain what happened to him after Clare's death ten years ago, but he didn't know how to start. She had her shields up already and there was no getting around them. She needed space and he had to give it to her. Stay back, Eliot, he thought.
Brynn picked up her books with rapid precision and stood up.
"Where are you—"
"I'm going into town," Brynn said flatly. "To visit my mom." She didn't look at him as she strode by towards the house. "I'll be back tonight."
Eliot had just stopped himself from saying be careful, but she was already gone. He looked at the closed door and his shoulders sagged.
I should have been kinder. I should be braver. I should let her know—
"No!"
Eliot turned and kicked the pool chair hard enough to send it skidding across the poolside. The terrible scraping noise frightened a flock of birds out of a nearby cypress and they took wing, turning their backs on the estate as they flew into the forest. Eliot clasped his hands to his head in mute frustration. Back in his home country after so long, he felt like a complete outsider, shunned for a past disgrace he hadn't even committed. And now the one woman he cared about was turning away from him too.
Brynn—beautiful, wonderful, talented Brynn. Since the moment he saw her, Eliot had recognized in her face the brilliance and passion that he had fallen so easily in love with. The frailness was there, too. It ran alongside her eyes in sorrowed brows, in the line of her set jaw, in her smile too bright when it
blossomed, too quick too fade. He wanted to reach his arms around her and protect her from the elements that sawed at her so roughly, from the misfortunes that come upon everyone and are always unexpected. It wasn't simply that she was passionate about mathematics, no, and it wasn't only her beauty that attracted him to her, although her curves made his breath catch in his throat. It was that kindness in her eyes when she handed him a cup of coffee to warm himself that melted his heart and cause him to know that only she could pierce through the defenses he'd spent the past ten years building around himself.
But their beginning had been built on shaky footing, and he wasn't sure how to reach out to her once they started bickering as they had just now. Another wall had risen between them, something muddy, harder to pin down. He couldn't continue to pretend that everything was alright in Hungary.
He had to tell her his secret.
Chapter Two
The taxi driver pulled up to the front gate of the estate and craned his neck outside of the window, obviously impressed with the castle. I got into the back seat.
"Where to?" The man must have expected me to say the Faust Cellar or the five-star Gundel restaurant, or perhaps Vaci utca where all of the finest boutiques lined the street. Sometimes it was fun to pretend to be a rich tourist, even if only to window shop. But I wasn't in the mood to pretend today.
"The Fiumei cemetery," I said, looking away down the mountain.
I didn't know what was wrong with me, or whether it was Eliot's fault. It seemed like every other time we spoke to each other we ended up fighting. He'd been so kind to me after the attack, but every time I suggested going out somewhere he would find a reason to dismiss it. Even dinner!
As I thought about it, my mind flashed back to the last time we'd gone out in public together. That night had ended with Eliot shoving a photographer into the water, leaving me stranded in the shocked crowd. It had something to do with his wife's death, I knew that, but I wasn't going to push the issue. He had to grieve in his own way, just as I had to grieve in mine. But it had been weeks since that happened, and he still didn't want to go out with me anywhere, no matter how nicely I asked.
I wondered if he was ashamed of me. The crasser city papers had splashed my picture all over the front page and even though I couldn't quite read all of the words, I could make out the gist of it. NEW HERCEG LOVE INTEREST! YOUNG STUDENT IN THROES OF PASSION! CRAZED PROFESSOR ATTACKS PHOTOGRAPHER! Tabloids are just as sleazy in Hungary as they are in America. Eliot was tall, dark, and handsome and I was... I was Brynn. Maybe the initial attraction was wearing off, and he was getting tired of me staying in his castle, spending his money. He never said a word about it, sure, but I could tell something was bothering him.
I clutched the letter from Mark in one hand, the daisies in the other. I thought I knew what Mark's words would say. Ever since I had rejected him, he'd been weird around me, still hoping for me to change my mind and realize I loved him back. I hadn't seen him since after...since before the hunter.
The taxi driver tried to make small talk but I pretended not to understand much Hungarian. Easy for me to do—although Eliot's sister had taught me a lot of Hungarian, Marta had never been able to fix my American accent. We sat in silence until the taxi pulled up the the cemetery.
"Koznonom," I said in thanks, slipping a couple of bills into the taxi driver's hand. I scooted out and passed through the entryway into the graveyard where my mother was buried. The woman who normally sold roses on the corner was not there today, but I had the daisies Eliot had given me. My mom would like them, I thought. She had always liked daisies.
Clouds moved overhead and covered the sky, blotting out the sun in a white-gray haze. This morning had been so sunny, at least at Eliot's estate. Now everything seemed gloomy and claustrophobic over the cemetery. Down the end of the first pathway, I stopped briefly at the place where Eliot's late wife was buried. Normally I would leave half of my flowers, but it seemed strange to give his daisies to Clare. Wrong, somehow. Instead I paused and bowed my head, not really praying but wanting to do something, anything, for Eliot's sake. The young wife, the tragic car accident. Would I ever be able to live up to his perfect memory of her? Maybe that was why he was pulling away from me...
I shook myself out of my thoughts. Jealousy was a terrible emotion, but jealousy of the dead was even worse. Tucking the flowers under my arm, I kept walking. Back, back, all the way back and to the right. That's where my mother was buried, in a small and unassuming grave in the corner of a Hungarian cemetery. I sat down next to the small white gravestone and set the daisies to rest against the front of the stone. The roses I had left there last week had wilted in the summer heat. The silken petals were edged with brown decay. Death creeping in, just like always. I put the old bouquet up to my nose and inhaled deeply. The scent overwhelmed me. Fresh roses were beautiful, but dying flowers always gave off a richer, headier fragrance. Like they were trying to give all that they had to the world before shriveling up completely.
"Hi mom," I said, tucking my legs under me as I sat down on the grass. The air was still warm even with the clouds covering the sun, and more humid than usual.
"I'm doing okay, mom, but I don't know what to do about Eliot. Maybe it's just that I'm stressed. The paper is set to be published this summer, but we still have to do a ton of revisions. I want to get this proof done before we publish, so it can be included, but it's not happening, no matter how hard I push myself. He doesn't push me, it's not his fault, I'm stressing myself out."
I sighed and leaned back against the gravestone, closing my eyes.
"I don't know, mom. I love him, I do, and I think he loves me. I want to be with him, I really do. Only—every time he touches me now, it's different. I can't believe he really wants me. Something inside of me shuts down and pulls away, and it freaks him out, I can tell. It freaks me out. I want to tell him it's okay, but how do I know it's really okay? How do I know if he wants me?"
I waited silently. I wanted my mom to tell me the answer, I wanted some kind of reassurance that I wasn't going crazy. After all the time I had spent falling in love with Eliot, to have our relationship fall apart so quickly terrified me. He had grown so irritable, getting mad over nothing at all. Second thoughts, maybe. Second thoughts about me.
"Maybe we went too fast. I thought I wanted him close to me after...after the hunter attacked me. But maybe that wasn't a good idea. I don't know, mom."
I plucked out one of the daisies from her gravestone and twirled it in my hand.
"What do you think, universe? Does he love me? Do I love him? Is this what love is?"
My fingertips trailed over one of the daisy's petals, soft and white. Without letting myself hesitate, I plucked the petal from its center.
"I love him."
Another petal.
"I love him not."
Another petal. This one ripped a third of the way down the middle, leaving a jagged edge of white.
"I love him."
A bird called out from one of the cypress trees edging the cemetery and I stopped, closing my hand over the daisy. How could the random distribution of petals in a flower, whether even or odd, predict love? I crumpled the flower in my palm.
"What am I doing here, mom? Should I stay? Here in Hungary?"
An image of my mother flashed into my mind—a dark, hooded figure, tearing her to shreds. A chill ran through my bones, even in the summer sun. My mother had come to Hungary and never left. I shook the cold thought from my mind.
"I'm sorry, mom. I'm sorry I didn't get to know you better. I wish I knew more. I wish you could be here to tell me what to do."
I tilted my head back and kept talking.
"Eliot told me that I could stay with him as long as I wanted, even next year. I could finish up my math degree at the academy. It would be nice, I guess, to be with him. I'd live in the castle. It's a nice castle. I know, right? And we'd be working on the problem more."
My eyes burned red as I knew what I had
to say next. It had been so many times now that I'd visited my mom that I had stopped crying. I never really did cry much. And yet now, thinking about staying with Eliot, with his strange withdrawals, I was on the verge of outright sobs. I managed to choke out the words quietly, without letting the tears fall.
"But I miss my friends back home. I miss Shannon. I miss everyone in the math department. Even Quentin. And Mark is going home soon..."
I looked down at the envelope. Mark's letter. I hadn't responded to any of his texts. He'd left me voicemails telling me that he loved me, telling me that he understood if I didn't want to talk, telling me that he hoped I was better. I didn't know how to answer him. How do you talk to a friend after you've broken his heart?
I blinked back into focus, took a deep breath, and ripped open the envelope. When I read the letter, all of the air in my lungs seemed to disappear, and the crumpled daisy in my hand fell forgotten to the ground.
Brynn,
I need to talk to you. It's about your mom.
The End
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