No Such Thing As Immortality

by Sarah Tranter

  Remembering myself, I handed her the flowers with a slight bow of the head, ‘For you, Rowan.’

  ‘They are gorgeous – thank you!’ She took a moment to look at them, letting her finger tips run and … linger over selected petals … Lucky petals …

  Swallowing hard, I forced myself to refocus: She liked the flowers! Yes, she liked the flowers! Thank you, Elizabeth. ‘Come on up, then,’ she piped, shuffling aside to allow me in.

  When she had closed the door, I looked at her with pleading eyes. ‘May I?’ She looked confused and clearly needed clarification. My arms swept towards the staircase and then to her. ‘May I please assist?’ She had categorically refused such assistance after the car inspection last weekend. Indeed she had appeared to get distressed at the prospect of me carrying her up the stairs. I had therefore had to reluctantly put her down at their foot, and go through the excruciating process of watching her tackle the two perilous flights by herself. That had then been my turn to be distressed.

  Today, she looked taken aback at my suggestion, and I could feel her uncertainty; her heart was now racing and she was biting her lower lip. She shook her head, blushing deeply. After taking a deep breath, she said, ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. I very much doubt you’d make it up there with me, I’m way too heavy.’

  It was about her weight? This was such an unhealthy obsession! ‘It will be effortless,’ I insisted. Waiting for her to meet my eyes, I looked at her intently. I gently asked, ‘Is that your only concern?’

  She nodded whilst again looking at the floor. ‘That and the fact you might hurt yourself. Last time you were coming down the stairs, going up them – you wouldn’t have a hope!’

  I smiled reassuringly. ‘Not a chance, Rowan.’ My smile turned to a grin. ‘Not. A. Chance. And on that basis …’ I gently scooped her into my arms. ‘I thank you for letting me do the honours.’ Experiencing surprise from Rowan, rather than distress, I proceeded to carry her – with no physical effort at all – up the stairs. The effort was more in putting her down again, when we had reached her living room.

  She smelt beautiful and my body was blazing where it touched hers. Although I could hear her quickened heart rate, and knew what it would be doing to the pulse on her neck, it was her lips and the delicate little freckles on her nose that I was fixating on. I wondered how it would feel to kiss them. No – I needed to know how it would feel. But how could I take the risk with something so precious and fragile? How did I know I was strong enough to shield her from the monster within? It was pure, unadulterated agony. When I refocused on Rowan’s eyes, she was looking worriedly at me and I could feel her hurt and anxiety.

  ‘You’re in pain! I can see it in your eyes. I’ve hurt you, haven’t I? I told you I was too heavy. I am so sorry! Put me down quickly – is it your back?’

  I shook my head and chuckled, ‘Rowan, you were as light as a feather.’ She was concerned about me!

  She huffed and shook her head in disbelief. ‘You’re simply being a gentleman. If I am as light as a feather, why are you hurting?’

  I was determined to be as honest as I could be. ‘Because … I never want to put you down.’ Bugger! Why was I always so intense around her?

  The atmosphere between us deepened, as did the seductiveness of her gaze. I noticed her lips part fractionally. Bloody hell – I could not handle this! I had to put her down – and quickly. I very gently lowered her to her feet. She was standing there, with the flowers in her hand, biting her lip again. I wondered what it would feel like to gently nibble that lip. Christ! And feeling her disappointment at being put down wasn’t helping matters one little bit. I had to recover myself. I had always taken pride in my self-control, so why was this so damned difficult? ‘Shall I get a vase for the flowers?’ I asked, attempting to sound casual.

  She was distracted, blinked a couple of times and said, with a slight tremor, ‘Oh! Of course … thanks – in the corner, by the sink.’ She started to hobble to the kitchen, but I intercepted her and retrieved the flowers.

  ‘Let me do this. You sit down.’

  She seemed amused. I noted she didn’t sit, but continued to stand and watch. I could feel what her eyes were doing to my back. Her feelings had lost their amusement; they had reverted to what they had been when she had been in my arms.

  Dammit! How was I supposed to do this? How was I supposed to resist? I tried to concentrate on what I was doing, but that really didn’t help because I had just realised something … how the hell was I supposed to arrange flowers? I started to laugh nervously.

  ‘You don’t have the foggiest idea what you’re doing, do you?’ Rowan giggled as she hobbled to my side. I shook my head as she began to run water into the sink. ‘Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. We’ll leave them in the sink.’ She took the blooms from my hands and stood them within the bowl. ‘I’ll sort them in the morning. They are gorgeous, Nate. Thank you again.’

  Rowan’s proximity was causing me some significant issues, and I sighed with relief as the doorbell rang. I knew it was the taxi; I could hear the meter ticking in the cab, which was sat with its engine running on the street – it was early. But that really wasn’t a bad thing. The chemistry in the room was far too dangerous.

  I took a deep breath, reached out and tentatively took Rowan’s hand. I asked gently, ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ I think my subconscious was giving her a get-out clause.

  Rowan grinned. ‘I should be asking that of you! I can’t picture you at Mama Mia!.’

  I asked quietly, ‘Where do you picture me?’

  She blushed scarlet. I immediately held my breath. There were those feelings again … God, this was punishment. Thankfully, the impatient cab driver beeped his horn, snapping me to my senses. ‘Perhaps we should go?’ I said quickly, before Rowan had a chance to answer my very reckless question.

  ‘Have you been here before?’ Rowan asked casually, at odds with her racing heart. We were walking into the lobby of The Prince of Wales Theatre. My arm was around her waist, providing her with some support. She denied the need for crutches and insisted she was supposed to walk on her foot whenever she could. In this moment, where I could act in their place, I wasn’t going to argue.

  I wished she hadn’t asked that question though. My mind was recalling my attendance in 1884, or, at least to the previous theatre that had once sat on this site. It had been the opening night of, what was then, The Princes Theatre. I was remembering the performance I had seen with Elizabeth – a comedy about faeries called The Palace of Truth. The memory was particularly disturbing to me tonight. The play had been about an enchanted palace, where every visitor had been bound to speak the truth: it was impossible to keep a secret in The Palace of Truth. My recollection seemed to be twisting the knife in, ramming home to me how wrong I was, being with Rowan with the catastrophic secret that I held. Of all the venues in London, it had to be this one, and tonight, of all nights.

  Shoving both memory and thought roughly aside, my reply was strained, but as light as I could make it, ‘Yes, but not to see Mama Mia!.’

  She giggled. ‘I’m sorry – if you’d rather not …’

  I stopped, and looked meaningfully into her eyes. ‘Rowan, it would not have been my first choice … but it is not the performance I am here to enjoy.’

  Rowan’s heart was pounding again and her feelings were all over the place, but in an incredibly pleasant way. Mine, I simply could not describe in detail. All I knew was I felt whole when I was with Rowan and empty when I was not.

  Reluctantly dragging my eyes away from hers, I attempted to diffuse some of the intensity. ‘We should find our seats.’ We were in public, but I still intended to carry her up the stairs. As we approached the first step, I took her into my arms.

  She gasped. I said, ‘You know no one here, so you cannot even plead embarrassment.’ My teeth were gritted as my body reacted too pleasurably to the sensation of her fully in my arms again.

  When we’d reached our destin
ation, I slowly lowered her to her feet and waited for her to gain her balance, before stepping back. She looked around and exclaimed, breathlessly, ‘Wow – a box? For us?’

  I nodded, smiling at her excited reaction.

  ‘Thank you so much. You really didn’t need to go to this …’

  ‘I wanted to have you all to myself,’ I admitted, grinning.

  She blushed becomingly, before exclaiming, ‘God though, this must have cost a fortune!’ She frowned and continued quietly, ‘I was going to insist on going Dutch, but I’m not sure—’

  ‘I would not dream of it!’ I interrupted, astounded. ‘You would offend my sensibilities!’

  ‘What about mine?’ she responded defiantly.

  I would never understand women.

  ‘How about we, “Go Dutch” next time?’ I offered, nevertheless feeling appalled by the suggestion, but sensing it was what she needed to hear.

  ‘You promise?’ she urged.

  ‘I promise.’

  She smiled happily, whilst I hid my scowl by busying myself with rearranging the chairs to ensure she would have the best vantage point to see the stage from, and with room enough to comfortably position her foot.

  As the performance started, I both watched and felt her excitement. It was captivating. I had positioned my chair close, but not too close; I didn’t think I could take it. She was to my left and my chair was positioned just perfectly to allow me to watch her whilst, I hoped, not alerting her to the fact I was paying no attention to the stage.

  I sat there and reflected: if only. If only things were different; if only I were mortal; if only we could grow old together – then everything would be perfect.

  ‘You aren’t watching this, are you?’ she asked suspiciously, a few moments later.

  ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Because I can feel your eyes on me.’

  I wondered if my eyes on her body could elicit the same reaction as hers, on mine. It was probably very different for a human. ‘I apologise. I am just finding it hard to look at anything else. Is it making you uncomfortable? I will stop.’

  ‘No – don’t, please – it would offend my sensibilities!’ She turned to grin at me. ‘I know you were home schooled, but your use of language is extraordinary!’

  ‘As you have said before,’ I observed wryly, but feeling concerned.

  ‘I just find it …’

  I interrupted sadly. ‘Disconcerting? Unsettling? Unnerving?’

  ‘No.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Intriguing!’

  That was an improvement on unnerving. ‘In what way?’ I was intrigued myself.

  ‘So many, Nate, so many,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘Would you care to expand?’

  Another dangerous question, but at this point, the honourable Nathaniel Gray was struggling desperately with his guilt, and wanted any opportunity to offload it. I was fighting an internal battle between the part of me that wanted her to know everything, and the other part – the selfish part – that was frantically resisting anything that would destroy things.

  She repositioned herself in her seat to look at me attentively. ‘Yes, I would – very much. But …’ she frowned and looked almost desperate ‘… not tonight?’

  I nodded and shut my eyes, more relieved than disappointed. ‘I will try to stop looking at you, so you can enjoy the performance.’ I wasn’t being fair.

  ‘No, don’t, please. To be honest, I find myself too easily distracted with you here to pay attention …’ She was blushing. ‘I like it when you look at me in that way that you do, although I can’t for one moment understand why you choose to!’

  I leaned forward in my seat, resting my elbows on my knees and steepling my hands. I looked at her closely. The lights were down, but I could see her perfectly. I spoke softly, but couldn’t keep the surprise entirely from my voice, ‘But you know the answer to that, you must.’

  She shook her head and refused to look me in the eye. Her blush was deeper. ‘I know you are going to say something really charming now. But I simply don’t understand it. You have an incredible presence about you – people react to you. There wasn’t a single female we passed on the way in, that didn’t ogle you – unashamedly ogle you – and that was just the women! So I just wonder, why me?’ She quietly added, ‘I’m still concerned it’s misplaced guilt.’

  I sighed and said gently, ‘I thought we had addressed that one.’ I waited for her to look at me again, before continuing, ‘I do not deny I feel guilty about the accident. Of course I do …’ More urgently, ‘I could have killed you, for Christ’s sake! But from the moment I saw you in the hospital …’ I shook my head – I couldn’t believe she needed me to explain it. It should be self-evident. I said, softly again now, ‘I have never felt this way about anyone before. I know it is quick. I know it is intense – and I apologise for that. I just do not seem able to help myself. I miss you when I am not with you; I think about you all the time. But …’ I laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘I am going to stop saying any more – because I really do not want to scare you!’

  Rowan sat forward in her seat, bringing herself closer to me. Meeting my eyes, she said forcefully, ‘It doesn’t scare me.’ Then, looking down at her hands, and speaking more quietly, ‘I feel the same way.’

  But how could she? ‘But I unsettle you.’

  ‘You do.’ She paused, taking a deep breath. ‘And Nate – I know there’s something you aren’t telling me, and I get a feeling you want to …’

  My body froze to its core. I felt my heart seize and doubted it would ever beat again.

  ‘… and I can’t believe I’m saying this.’ She took another deep breath. ‘But for the moment, I’d rather not know. Just don’t lie to me, Nate – that’s all I ask.’ She looked imploringly at me.

  It took me longer than it should have done to absorb what she was saying. And when I had, it felt wrong. So wrong. She had no idea what she was dealing with or the risk I represented. Yes, it was a stay of execution, but in that moment, I realised I couldn’t continue deceiving her.

  My voice was choked. ‘Rowan—’

  But she interrupted me, urgently. ‘Nate – please! There will be a time when I need to know. Tell me then – not now!’

  There was pure anguish in my voice when I spoke. ‘I am not safe.’

  She shook her head vigorously. ‘You don’t scare me – and I don’t want to know yet. Can’t we enjoy what we have, for now? We do have something, don’t we? This isn’t just me?’

  ‘How can you ask that?’ I put my head in my hands for a brief moment, before raking a hand through my hair. I made it into a fist that I rested against my mouth. I fixed Rowan intently with my eyes, lowered my fist and said with agonised conviction, ‘I do not ever want to be without you … but do not know how we can ever be together.’

  I could feel her pain … and her denial. ‘We are together now, aren’t we? Can’t we take it day by day?’

  Day by day? Just as I was attempting to deal with things so as not to lose my mind. Oh, Rowan. I shut my eyes, knowing that I couldn’t make the right choice whilst looking at her pleading eyes. And I needed to find the strength, to make the right choice.

  It was all wrong. I needed to walk away – now.

  But if I was honest with her and told her whatever she wanted to know? If I spoke openly, but stopped short of telling her what I was? She would be in the driver’s seat. I wouldn’t be deceiving her – it was what she had asked for.

  No – it was still wrong. So very wrong. I had to walk away.

  But it would be a chance to be with her that little bit longer.

  ‘Please,’ she urged again.

  I couldn’t do it. It didn’t matter how many times I told myself I was doing the wrong thing, I simply wasn’t strong enough. I opened my eyes to meet Rowan’s gaze. I could not give her up … not quite yet. I was a caitiff. A monstrous, selfish caitiff. I spoke gently, ‘Day by day, Rowan … day by day.’

  ‘Thank
you!’ Her overwhelming relief rushed through me. She beamed at me and her eyes lit up. ‘So tell me!’ she said, leaning closer, a wicked grin on her face, ‘Have you got your costume for tomorrow?’ and promptly burst into giggles.

  Denial – but her eyes, and her smile and the musical lilt of her giggles … Hell, I could do denial, too. I would make the most of every second we had. And I would be honourable, just not tonight. I had to have tonight.

  I shook my head and spoke with mock disapproval, ‘It was not nice, pimping me out as a dinosaur.’

  ‘Pimping? Now there’s a word I didn’t expect to hear you use,’ she smirked.

  I smiled. ‘Am I unsettling you again?’

  She started to laugh softly. It was a wonderful sound, and then shaking her head, she said ‘I just can’t gauge you. I think I can and then you do something totally unexpected – like agree to dress up.’ She glanced at the stage and smiled. There was amusement in her voice. ‘So, does your costume have big feet?’

  I raised my eyebrows, ‘You think I am going to tell you and ruin the impact?’

  ‘It’s just …’ she started giggling as she looked at the stage again. I followed her eyes. On stage, members of the cast had flippers on their feet and the dance sequence was causing much laughter amongst the audience. She finished her sentence, ‘I was just thinking, big feet, flippers … same sort of thing. It could be entertaining.’ I couldn’t repress a shudder, but at least tonight, I managed to keep it momentary.

  ‘You think I am going to look silly, do you not?’ There was humour in my voice, although I didn’t feel it on this particular subject. I knew I was going to look silly. I mean, Barney the bloody Dinosaur, for crying out loud! Elizabeth was still insisting it was the only costume she could get.

  ‘Now, did I say that?’ she asked, with mock innocence.

  I sighed. ‘You really have no idea how completely out of character all this is for me, remotely no idea. Elizabeth, my sister, was in shock when she found out.’ That was a bit of an understatement, I realised.