Without Fear of Falling

by Danielle Boonstra

  He fought tears as she spoke. He clung to her. “And yet you are still dead are you not? I do not understand Louisa! You are still gone from me. It is true, is it not?” he cried desperately.

  She pulled him down and he lay hard and heaving on top of her. “My body is dead. I am here now like this because it is helpful for you. That is all you need to know. Can you accept that?”

  William laid his head on her chest refusing to weep. He would allow her to comfort him. “I can.” He heard her sigh and wrapped his arms tightly around her. “I love you, Louisa. This past month has been my own version of hell. I have shed more tears for you than…”

  Louisa kissed the top of his head. “I know.”

  “Do you miss me where you are?” he asked shyly, as a child would.

  She laughed lightly, “I don’t have to miss you where I am William, for you are there too. Everyone we love is there.”

  “I am there? But I am here! How can that be?”

  “Do not distress yourself, my love. You do not have to believe anything I have said, but I will ask you to try and remember that I have said it.” She stroked his back with her fingertips.

  “I can do that.”

  “Thank you, William. Hush now. Close your eyes. Know that I am with you.”

  He panicked and raised his head to look at her. “You are not leaving me again?”

  Louisa smiled and brought her lips to his. He was lost to her then. Opening his mouth to deepen the kiss he felt his body relax for the first time in weeks. His hands grasped hers and their arms fanned out like wings.

  The wind blew light through the partially opened window, but neither felt the chill. They had ventured to a haven in between where only lovers go.

  There was nowhere else in the world but where they were.

  There was no one else.

  And finally William slept.

  CHAPTER 41

  Ellie

  Jack and I are sitting in the living room. Mom is getting ready to teach her Nia class in Lion’s Head and Declan is upstairs in the shower. Jack just dropped in…unexpectedly. Apparently he’s going to do that now.

  Larger than life is Jack.

  He’s studying me. He looks so amused that it makes me nervous. The thought occurs to me that he’s mentally holding something over me. I can feel it dangling heavy above me.

  He doesn’t blink. “I’ve been meaning to ask you, Ellie. Does Declan know about that painting?”

  I clear my throat, cross and uncross my legs. “Which painting?”

  Jack grinned wide, “You know which painting, Ellie Stewart. Don’t pull that crap. Little Miss “I’m my own woman” showing up at my apartment naked as the day God made you under the pink North Face coat your mother bought you.”

  “Keep your voice down!” My tone is a loud whisper, but I really want to scream at him. I knew the bastard would bring this up…my little act of teenage rebellion. Damn.

  “Ellie, it’s not a big deal. Teenage girls are so not my thing. It was like painting a shoe.” He was laughing, having a great time. I was seething. I didn’t want Declan to hear him.

  “Jack, for the love of God! Please, stop talking about this!”

  “I’m teasing you, Ellie. A little parental defiance never hurt anyone. And you were perfect, by the way.”

  Now I was interested. “Perfect? How?”

  His smile warms. “You don’t need me to tell you that, surely. You are beautiful and you’ve got the soul to match. I’ve always thought so.”

  Just then I hear someone coming down the stairs. I turn just in time to see Declan bolt past us.

  Oh crap.

  He heard everything.

  Declan

  November slaps me in the face as I break free of the house. I need to get high somehow. I need to have one last time at the top.

  I itch at my side and bring a hand through my hair.

  My heart beats in a rhythm I wish I could change. It’s out of sync with my resolve. Each step I take distances me from insanity. I know where I’m going.

  Coming around Bay Street, I spot my father. He sits on the bench between the inn and the liquor store. The same bench I found Ellie sitting on only a few days before.

  He spots me and raises his hand and waves me over. The worry on his face hits me first.

  “Declan, I’m so glad you’re here. I was just going to try calling you.”

  I put my hands in my pockets to warm them. “What is it?”

  He motions for me to sit beside him and I do. He sighs heavily and I feel as though he is in need of unloading a weight…like he’s worked up a bunch of courage to get to this moment. “Declan, did I neglect you?”

  Really? This is the question? I answer quickly, “Not at all, Dad. I’ve spent a lot of time with Ellie. You know that.”

  He smiles weakly. “I didn’t mean this past week, lad. I was referring to your childhood…your whole life really.”

  Now I want to groan, but the look in his eye makes me stop. He’s asked me this question before and the answer is still the same. “No,” I tell him. “You and Mom were always great. You need to let go of this guilt, Dad. You’re too old for this shit.” I put my hand on his shoulder and he looks up at me. “I know you really want to move on and travel and stuff like that, so just do it. It’s ok, really. I’m ok.”

  He mulls over my words with a faraway look. The clouds are low above us, blanketing us in silence. “I hope you don’t hate me for this, but I think I’m afraid of your happiness.” I give him a questioning look. “You’ve always been sad, Declan. It was your normal. The prospect of you being happy…scares me a little. I won’t begrudge you joy, of course. I just wanted to be honest with you. You’re a man; you have been for some time now. You deserve honesty from me.”

  I know what he’s saying because it’s how I feel too. I’m afraid of my own happiness. In fact, the idea kind of scares the shit out of me because where do you go from there? What if it’s not what you thought or it doesn’t last? At least my depression was predictable. I confide all of this in my father. The words pour out quickly, as if I am emptying pebbles from my hand. I am letting go of things I had no clue I had been holding onto.

  He reaches out to hug me and for the first time since I was a child it registers with me that he is expressing love and not pity. He needs my love as much as I need his. We are equals.

  I’m at the top of the lighthouse. Looking out across the water, I hear shoes crunching in the gravel and I turn to see a streak of blonde and black racing towards me.

  She’s running. Why is she running? She’s crying. Shit, why is she crying? She disappears beneath the deck and I can hear scratching on the metal shell of the structure.

  “Ellie?” I call. “Ellie! What the hell are you doing?”

  More scratching, more sobbing.

  “Are you trying to climb? Jesus Christ, Ellie! There’s a fucking door!” I stop myself, realizing I’m yelling. “I’m coming down,” I say, more calmly now.

  When my feet hit the ground, I run towards her and scoop her up in my arms, wrapping her legs around my waist. She’s heaving and emotional.

  I kiss her temple. “What is it, Ellie? What’s wrong?”

  Through her sobs she attempts, “What the hell were you doing up there?”

  I set her down to look in her face. “What?”

  “You totally freaked me out! I ran into Alistair and he said you walked in this direction. I was so…I was so afraid you were going to…” And then she starts laughing, a deep and ridiculous belly laugh. “I am such an idiot! How could I jump to such a crazy conclusion?”

  I’m laughing too. It’s all just so absurd. And in that moment of uncontrollable laughter, I realize how seriously I take my sadness, how I let it draw me in and pull me under, and for what?

  This is a release. All we’ve been through, all we’ve seen, it’s caught up with us. We’re letting it all out.

  “Thanks for being worried, I guess,” I tell her, the c
huckles now subsiding. My stomach hurts.

  She shakes her head. “Don’t thank me. I promise to be a little less reactive.”

  Ellie’s eyes are full of humour. I just have to tease her. “So, tell me about this painting.”

  A veil of confusion is drawn over her face. “The painting?” she asks quietly.

  “Come on, Ellie…the painting that Jack did? I overheard the whole thing. After I was done here I was going to the bank machine to take out some money. I’m going to buy it from him.”

  She shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re not mad? You want to buy it?”

  “You’re goddamned right I want to buy it. No one else is going to have that. Besides, I am going to paint you and I’m going to do it a hell of a lot better than Jack Bailey ever could. And do you know why?” I pull her close and catch the scent of her hair: vanilla and lavender.

  She shakes her head, bites her lip.

  “Because I know what your body can do. And I know the sounds you make, the shade your skin takes, the goose bumps, the sweat, I know it all, Ellie and he doesn’t.”

  She smiles now and her pale cheeks go pink. “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Damn right,” I mumble as I bite softly at her lips. And she knows I’m not nearly as possessive as I sound. “Come on, let’s give the bastard his money and then get you back to my hotel room. We’ve got work to do.”

  She pulls back slightly to look me in the eye. “I was silly, right? It’s just…it’s a lot.”

  I kiss her forehead lightly and tell her, “I know, but we’re not alone.”

  And with that her eyes seem bluer, calmer somehow. We both understand that nothing we do matters as much as we think it does. We are dancers in a dream from which we will one day awaken with no memory of what went on before. And it will always be ok.

  All is well.

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