Without Fear of Falling

by Danielle Boonstra

  But that’s not true, is it? No, even I know that isn’t true.

  If I were a stranger to her, this would be simple. I would be that jerk who stood her up, a frivolous story she would tell her friends at the bar when the silence grew too deep.

  But I am not a stranger.

  Strangers don’t feel the earth move when their eyes meet. She knows me in a way so ancient, so instinctual it frightens me. Her memory of me is surely far superior to my tiny, mad reality. I can’t live up to it. There is so much she doesn’t know…the details that mar me like pockmarks on an otherwise flawless face.

  I couldn’t bear to see her disappointed. I could never stomach knowing I was the source of her sorrow. We need a clean break, as clean as could ever be possible.

  I will make the break.

  There’s a knock on the door.

  “Yeah?” I call.

  “Don’t ‘yeah’ me, laddy, it’s your father. Open the door, please.”

  Oh Christ. This is the last thing I need…

  Ellie

  The shop is quiet my entire shift. There was a large group going out on charter today and they had already disembarked by the time I started work. Looking out the window I think I can see the boat and imagine all the excitement of those aboard. They are all ready for adventure, to try something new. Declan’s father would be on it. Would Declan be there too?

  I try to distract myself with tidying the shelves and counting stock, but my mind is on William and Louisa. I try to see me, Ellie, as the same soul as Louisa, but it’s difficult. She seems to have been so comfortable in her own skin. She opens her heart and mind effortlessly and just knows that the best thing to do is to surrender.

  I’ve had those feelings, but I bury them. Has Declan come to help me dig them up again?

  But I know better than that. He is the catalyst, not the reason. I can’t place all my hope in him. I’m better off with the wind. The wind knows where I’m going.

  It is now a quarter past six and there is still no sign of Declan. I’m beginning to get anxious. Did I tell him seven by accident? Did I say I would meet him at the inn? I know that I didn’t, but allow the thoughts to grace my mind anyhow.

  I resolve to walk to the Town Pump in the hopes of bumping into him along the way. Walking into the back room to grab my things, I hear the door.

  “Ellie? Are you still here?” It’s Alistair. I make my way to the front to greet him. This can’t be good.

  “Hi! I’m here. Where’s Declan?” I ask trying unsuccessfully to hide my concern.

  Alistair hesitates a moment. He face looks grim. “I’m really sorry but Declan won’t be meeting you tonight, my dear.” I’m disappointed and he knows it. “Can I buy you some dinner? We have a lot to discuss. I’m afraid there’s a lot you don’t know about Declan, but I think that you deserve to,” he says kindly, but I don’t appreciate his implication.

  “I know that.” I said sharply. “Don’t you think I know that? We’re practically strangers, Alistair. Everyone knows that. But we…” I trail off. My breathing speeds and my heart is racing. Passion seems to come from nowhere when I talk about Declan.

  He immediately reaches out to gently touch my arm and give me his reassurance. “It’s alright, Ellie. Just come with me. Maybe what I have to say will shed some light for you. Ok?” He is being so nice…so calm and nice, and yet I’m hesitant to trust him. Why? Alistair has always been kind. He and Declan look so alike and of course I can see William in him too: daring, proud and Irish.

  I have to relent. That much is clear. I have to hear what Alistair O’Shea has to say.

  CHAPTER 16

  Ellie

  Leafing through the menu at Town Pump, it dawns on me how ridiculous it is to be looking at the menu at all. It has been the same for the past ten years. I know it by heart. I put the menu down and take a gulp of water. Whatever Alistair has to say I will be ok. I tell myself this the whole way over and I continue now. The funny thing is I am actually beginning to believe it.

  I order French fries with a salad, and get treated with listening to Alistair explain to Noelle, our waitress, that the food on his plate is not to touch.

  “I will send it back if it does, Miss. I’m not threatening you, merely warning you…” he says with a tender earnestness.

  I giggle. He’ll get his meal on three separate plates, I think to myself. Hopefully, he has a sense of humour.

  Alistair turns to me as Noelle plods off, his mood quickly becoming serious. “Ok, Ellie. I’m going to give you a brief history of Declan. Are you ok with that?” he asks.

  My heart is in my throat, but I don’t want him to know. “Yeah, absolutely; I’m ready. I want to help him, Alistair. I mean that.”

  “Right, well I’m not sure what you think you can do for him, but I’ll just tell you the story and let you decide.” He leans on the table and looks me in the eye. “Declan has always been a very sensitive guy. Even when he was little, he was quiet and always seemed to be easily affected by what was going on around him. You could just tell he was listening, but he was feeling too. His mother, Jill, and I separated when he was five years old. The year leading up to our separation he had six ear infections. I swear to you, Ellie, the wee boy just didn’t want to hear our fighting anymore. It was awful. It got better after I moved out of the house, but he was still shy and withdrawn. He walked around as if he was carrying a guilty secret. Now you tell me, what could a child possibly have done to feel so much shame? I would joke with him sometimes and try to coax it out of him, but it seldom worked and never for very long. His mother took him to see specialists. For a while there we thought he might be autistic, but he had no problems expressing emotion. He laughed at times, smiled; he enjoyed drawing, playing his guitar and riding his bike. It was just that he had this burden of infinite sadness…like he was mourning something. I’ve asked him repeatedly over the years if it had to do with his mother and me breaking up. He says no every time. Perhaps it was unfair of me to ask in the first place.” Alistair looks away, sad for a moment and then continues.

  “He said he knew his mother and I were better off apart. High school seemed to help him a bit. The school he attended had a great music and arts program. Declan really excelled there. He even had a girlfriend for a while. Corinne was her name.” He catches my eye as if looking to register jealousy. I nod, urging him to go on. He waves a hand, dismissively, “It never seemed that serious to me, but when they broke up, Declan went into a deep depression that lasted nearly four years. We eventually had him committed to an institution because we were afraid he would hurt himself and we knew he couldn’t take care of himself properly either. It was the hardest thing Jill and I have ever done.” He paused to take a drink of water.

  “He did ok at the institution. It took a while to find the right medication for him, but when they did, Declan seemed to get a little better. I’ll never forget the day his doctor called me to tell me that Declan was drawing again. What a relief! He was finally coming around. I asked the doctor what he was drawing and he said that most of the pictures were of a young woman. My heart sank. I knew they must have been of his ex-girlfriend, Corinne. At least this was progress, I thought. Perhaps this was part of his healing process. I decided to go see him the next day and maybe try to talk to him about his drawings.”

  Alistair pauses as Noelle sets our salads down in front of us. I have no idea how I’m going to eat any of it. My stomach is tense, as if holding a breath of its own.

  “Go ahead,” I say. “Continue.”

  He picks up his fork, but begins his story again before taking a bite. “Ellie, I remember sitting in his room and asking him to look at what he had drawn like it was yesterday. He reached under his bed and pulled out what must have been fifty pieces of foolscap with charcoal sketches on them. I looked at the pictures and they were stunning. The detail and the raw emotions of the girl depicted were exquisite. I looked at every one; I was so impressed and yet really confused. Not one of them was of
Corinne, but they were definitely all the same person. I did not recognize the girl in the drawings at all.”

  He took a deep breath as if willing his voice to still. “That is until one week ago when I walked into the dive shop.”

  My eyes shoot up to meet him in surprise. I have a vague premonition of what is to come, but I blink it away, needing the words. “What are you saying, Alistair?”

  “Ellie, I can’t explain it, but my son had drawn countless meticulous pictures of you years before he had even met you.”

  My throat closes up and I have to struggle for air. So that is why he recognized me! “Alistair, he knows me now! He said he recognized me. Why hasn’t he told me about the drawings?” I ask bewildered.

  Alistair hangs his head and considers what to say next. It is clear he’s caught between protecting his son’s secrets and honestly answering my questions. “Ellie, he may remember your face, but I highly doubt he remembers drawing it. A month after I visited him, another patient found his pictures and ripped them to shreds. Declan was beside himself. He even went catatonic for a while and the doctors had to change his meds all over again.

  “Apparently he doesn’t remember much from his stay at the institution these days. We don’t speak about it very often either. He finds it embarrassing and I try to respect that. The past two years have been better. He’s living in an apartment in one of the buildings I own. It helps that I can check in on him on a weekly basis. I know that he is twenty-five and shouldn’t need a babysitter, but I’m his father and this works for us.”

  I nod reassuringly at him. It hadn’t occurred to me to judge their situation. In fact, I was relieved that Declan had a father who was so concerned.

  Alistair’s face takes on a shade of pride that had been absent. His smile is gentle as if recalling a pleasant memory as he says, “He’s even started playing guitar again. And he’s really good. He hasn’t drawn in almost three years though. It’s a shame. He is really talented.”

  I take a deep breath trying to absorb all that Alistair has shared. It’s mind-boggling and yet not that surprising but it still doesn’t explain why Declan stood me up. “Why didn’t he come tonight? If he doesn’t really recognize me then why is he hiding?”

  “I don’t know, Ellie. I really can’t say. All I know is that when I went to his room he was totally withdrawn. He said he couldn’t meet you. He said he knew he would hurt you.”

  Not that crap again. I can feel the tears in my eyes, but don’t have the heart to cry in front of Alistair. “I’m so sorry,” I say and put my hand on his arm. “This is all pretty upsetting, but I have to say it’s not very surprising.” Gathering my courage I resolve to continue, “Alistair, I have to tell you about what’s been going on with me since I met Declan, since before that even. Will you hear me out?” I ask.

  He nods and I confess everything. I even tell him about the night Declan and I first kissed. It’s embarrassing and yet I know that it’s necessary. Alistair listens patiently and when I finish he almost seems relieved.

  “I don’t know what to make of any of this,” he says quietly, playing with his fork. “Honestly, I want to just write it off as one big coincidence. Anything beyond that seems…overwhelming.” Putting his fork down, he runs his hands through his hair and says, “Perhaps it’s enough already with these visions. What can it help?” When I don’t respond he adds, “I’ll leave it up to you,” and looks down again at his plate.

  I look at Alistair closely. His handsome face drawn and worried, I want to reach out and stroke his cheek just to have him look up.

  Look up! I want to shout at him.

  But I don’t. Instead I eat my salad and pray that Noelle brings my fries quickly so I can get the heck out of there. Alistair may be unwilling to go deeper with this, but I’m not. I am more determined than ever to find out what all of this is for.

  CHAPTER 17

  Louisa

  The party was to stay at an abandoned stone cottage not far from the village after all and not the local inn. Her father was dubious at first, but Louisa reassured him.

  “Let us consider it as part of the adventure, Father! We are here together. We are safe. Surely comfort can be created. We need only be willing to make the best of it,” she said cheerfully. He smiled at her. She knew that his grumblings were always short-lived. It was easy enough to help him see the light.

  The first night was unfortunately spent among the dust and the mice, but there was nothing to be done for it. They each knew it was temporary. The next day, the servants cleaned the cottage up well enough and killed as many mice as they could. Even Louisa assisted. She was determined to be useful while her father and Mr. Mara were down in the village overseeing the beginnings of construction. She set her sights on the small kitchen located on the main floor at the back of the house. They had brought some vegetables with them from one of the stops along the way, but all of that had yet to be unpacked. She decided to start.

  Though Louisa had been trained in many things; art, music, languages etc, she found that none of these skills were particularly useful outside of society. In Tobermory, they appeared to be frivolous indeed. She laughed at how she could describe a perfectly delicious meal of guinea fowl and roasted vegetables in French, Latin and German, but was at a complete loss as to how to prepare it.

  Her predicament grew more ridiculous by the minute. Looking about she realized she had no idea where vegetables were kept. She heard footsteps in the hall. “Hello there?” she called. It was Janey, the scullery maid they had brought from their London home. She was a kindly woman of about forty who had never married. Louisa had interacted with her only a handful of times before this journey, but she always proved to be kind, capable and opinionated. It was a combination that Louisa adored.

  “Janey, thank goodness you are here! I am wondering if you could help me.” Louisa raised her hand to brush some loose strands of hair from her face, but upon seeing the state of her fingers she thought the better of it. Wiping her hands on an old apron she had found she continued, “I am trying my best to make myself useful and I’ve just realized I know nothing about kitchens or food or cooking at all. Can you help? I know that I’m keeping you from your other duties, but I thought if you teach me now, I’ll know what to do from this point on. What do you think?”

  Janey was a head shorter than Louisa and a little wider. Her light brown hair was pulled tightly back into a bun, but her blue eyes shone bright. She had no problem holding her own. “It’s not for a lady of your status to be working at all, mum, nor to be asking my opinion now is it? If you want to help though, I can’t say no to you.” She said with a wink and brought her hands to her hips. “I’ll show you where the cellar is and after that I’ll take you out back. There are some root vegetables growing in the garden. We’re very blessed for that, we are.”

  Louisa clapped and beamed, “Oh indeed we are, Janey! I am your student. Lead the way if you please!”

  She was determined to learn new skills. It was not that she minded the duties of a lady; she did not. She loved running her father’s home and felt enormous gratitude for her situation in life. Here now though, was a chance to see her character in a whole new light, to face challenges. She would take advantage of this opportunity and she knew she would be a better and stronger woman for it.

  Following Janey to the cellar, she was surprised by the foul smell, but then gently chided herself. London had smells much worse than an old, dingy cellar, to be sure. Janey led her to the wild and overgrown area outside of the kitchen. There was indeed a small garden of what seemed to be yams, onions and carrots. She bent down to dig through the earth and delighted at the feel of the moist soil in her hands. Perhaps they could plant even more!

  She was confident that with Janey’s help she could create an excellent vegetable garden. It gave Louisa an indescribable sense of satisfaction to be able to contribute to the family meal. This was something that had never crossed her mind before in London. It was not that she was
spoiled, more that she had never before been in a position to question where her meals or her clothes or any of her comforts came from.

  Rising again and looking about her, the scene took her breath away. It had been nearly dark upon their arrival and so she had not had the opportunity to take in the prospect around the house. The cottage itself was on flat, low ground, and the yard behind it was nothing but a hill that seemed to climb straight up.

  She called out to Janey declaring that she would scale the hill to see where they were. Louisa would have to scale the incline using her hands to help her, but she was determined. She had climbed trees as a girl (much to the dismay of her governess), and she was not so much a lady as to find distaste in getting a little dirty.

  Reaching the top of the incline she could see that it levelled out for a fair distance before dropping again to the sea. They were along a cliff-side! Louisa had smelt the sea strongly since their arrival, and had thought maybe that was the nature of this island…that the scent of the sea followed you wherever you would go. The hill and the cliff were covered in mossy rocks and heather. At the top of the hill over to her right she glimpsed a pack of red deer eating the moss peacefully, unaware they were being observed.

  “Beautiful,” she muttered to herself.

  Looking out across the sea, she could see for miles. There was a ship in the distance with three great masts and sails. She wondered: who was on it and where were they going? There was a whole world that seemed to beat on without her and when she stepped into it she made it real. By witnessing it, she brought it to life.

  The wind whipped her dress and she could feel droplets of salt water on her face. Walking over to the edge of the cliff she looked down at the sudden drop and the jagged rocks below. For a brief second she wondered if the wind would carry her. If she felt with all her might that she could fly, could it happen? Would she be supported by the loving force she was beginning to feel was with her always?