by Dara Girard
“I thought you wanted him to see Caryn’s mother’s house. Her aunt told us it was bad.”
Hazel pulled away from her, outraged. “Are you blaming me for this?”
“No, I’m just…” Monica sighed and shook her head. “It was an accident.”
“That woman should have looked out for him. You and Adrian are my heart. I’ll guard you with my life. With every breath of my body. She will never get close to him again.”
Monica stood by her brother’s hospital bed wondering how much time she had before her mother returned. To everyone’s relief, he’d pulled through surgery to repair his broken clavicle and was healing well, but she hadn’t had a moment alone with him, as they performed various tests to rule out any possible brain injuries, and was desperate to tell him what she’d seen.
He seemed just as eager to talk to her because the moment their mother left to get something from the cafeteria, his gaze sharpened and he said, “Where’s Caryn?”
“Mom, won’t let her see you.”
“What do you mean? Why not?”
“She blames her.”
He struggled to sit up. “She’s keeping Caryn away from me?”
“Don’t get upset,” Monica said, gently adjusting the bed. “She’s trying to protect you. She’s…she’s frightened right now and…”
His tone hardened. “I don’t care.”
“You should have seen her face. She’d thought she’d lost you.”
“How long have I been here?”
“You can’t leave yet.”
“I have to see Caryn.”
“If anything happens to you, mother will blame Caryn even more. Do you want that?”
“I need to see her.”
“I can talk to her for you.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Why should I trust you?”
She sent a nervous glance towards the door. “Because I saw how much Caryn loves you. I didn’t believe it at first, until I saw her with Mom. What Mom said to her… I know she didn’t mean to be so cruel, but she was, and Caryn just took it. And I thought she’d walked away, but then I saw her waiting in another part of the hospital and… I don’t know… there was something about her expression and her stance that made me know she wasn’t going to leave your side no matter what Mom said, and part of me felt glad.
“Then I saw her aunt approach her and I overheard them talking and Caryn was explaining what happened, and I thought her aunt would comfort her because Caryn looked really upset, but instead she said, ‘See? I told you you were dangerous,’ and walked away. Caryn slid to the ground and cried.” Monica hugged herself. “I wanted to go to her, but I didn’t know what to say. That’s when she looked up and saw me. She jumped up and raced down the hall.”
Adrian swore. “And you haven’t seen her since?”
Monica let her hands fall. “No.”
Adrian closed his eyes and took a deep, steadying breath. “I want to see her.”
“I told you Mom will have a fit.”
He opened his eyes. “No, I want to see her aunt.”
“She probably won’t come.”
Anger blazed in his gaze. “She’ll come.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ll tell her what she wants to hear. That I’m going to let Caryn go.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Barbara didn’t have much use for hospitals. She was glad her dear Murray had died at home. But after receiving the message she’d gotten from Adrian’s sister, she was starting to see the building in a new light and felt almost giddy with joy. At last her niece would be free of this man’s hold. He wouldn’t take Caryn from her and she’d find the right man suitable for her.
Barbara walked into the private hospital room and looked at the man in the bed. He was a very handsome man, even with the bandages, and rich, which was a nice bonus. Pity he was such a terrible prospect for marriage. She plastered on a bright smile. “I’m glad to see you’re much better.” She took a seat. “Caryn’s been in a tizzy, but then you’ve always had that rather unhealthy affect on her.”
Adrian’s brows drew together. “I’d argue that your influence is the one that’s unhealthy.”
Barbara crossed her legs and shrugged. “We can agree to disagree.”
“No, we can agree on this much. You have complete sway over her mind, while I have sway over her heart. Should we find out and see which one will dominate?”
Barbara toyed with her necklace, amused. Right now he was as helpless as a lamb. “You can’t beat me. I know how to push all her buttons.”
Adrian shook his head. “I don’t intend to beat you, because I don’t want to fight. I love her too much to rip her into two just to satisfy my own ego.”
“Does that mean you surrender?”
“I won’t see her hurt because of me.”
A sly grin touched Barbara’s mouth. “You’re a romantic.” She stood up and bent over a bouquet of flowers. “I can’t stand romantics. Foolish dreamers who force the rest of us to clean up their messes.” She turned to him. “My sister is a romantic, and Caryn could be too, if I let her. But I won’t let it happen.” She leaned against the windowsill. “So it’s agreed that you’ll no longer pursue her?”
“Only on one condition. If she comes to me, you won’t interfere.”
“You sound confident that she will, but I know for certain that she won’t. And do you know why? Because once I leave here I’ll tell her that I saw you. No, I won’t share what we discussed, I’ll just describe the pallor of your skin, the IV drip in your arm. Every chance I get, I’ll remind her that she’s the reason you’re here.”
His jaw twitched. “It wasn’t her fault.”
Barbara approached his bed. “I’ll also remind her that if it hadn’t been for you, her mother’s secret wouldn’t have been revealed.”
His tone sharpened. “What does that have to do with anything?’
“Oh yes, you haven’t heard. Caryn has two weeks to clean up her mother’s entire property or it will be condemned and she’ll be homeless. I’m sure Caryn has you to thank for that. And if that isn’t enough, there are her nightmares. She’s already told me how when she closes her eyes she sees your hand sticking out of the rubble. The helplessness and guilt she feels. I’ll continue to stoke those fires until she runs far away from you.”
Adrian looked at her perplexed. “You hate me that much?”
“Yes,” Barbara hissed, gripping the rails of his bed. “I hate the joy that you put on her face. The joy that I used to put there. She’s mine and she still needs me, but you’re confusing her.”
He sent a significant look at her hands. “You can’t hold onto her forever.”
“Neither can you.”
“She loves me.”
Barbara picked up her handbag. “I know.” She headed for the door, pleased the meeting had been successful. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Adrian watched Barbara leave, regret ripping his heart in two. He’d made a mistake. He’d underestimated her. They all had. Caryn’s mother wasn’t the true threat, her aunt was. She hid her madness well, it was borderline, but he’d seen it in her gaze. That too bright gaze of unflinching certainty in a reality that didn’t exist. A reality that said she was judge and jury over Caryn’s life.
Caryn lived in a life of two extremes—her mother suffered from too little control while her aunt suffered from too much. But both were about possession. He knew Barbara would destroy Caryn before releasing her. He’d entered a battle he couldn’t win. He hadn’t calculated how much she wanted to keep Caryn away from him, that she’d stoop to lying to her, to hurting her. That she’d use Caryn’s weakness to manipulate her. If he told Caryn what he knew he doubted Caryn would believe him. She loved her aunt too much and depended on her.
He rested his head back on the pillow, feeling the shame of his cowardice. If he hadn’t panicked and tried to get out of the house so quickly, he wouldn’t
have dislodged the stack of items.
What if that’s what Caryn would remember? Her aunt wouldn’t need to persuade her at all if she remembered how she’d gone to rescue her mother and had ended up rescuing him instead. What kind of a husband would he be?
He’d thought he’d conquered his fear. He could ride elevators now; he could even take short trips on the metro. But that house. God…that house. It felt almost alive, as if it were closing in on him.
The first moment he stepped inside he wanted to run back out again. He’d put on a mask of calm so that Caryn could focus on her mother and not worry about him. But the deeper they got into the house—the piles of clothes, the boxes, the papers—he felt his breathing quicken, felt the tingling of his skin. He couldn’t see any floors or windows. He didn’t know where to rest his eyes. What room was he in? They all looked alike. The sudden sight of the stairs had startled him. He’d forgotten they were in a house that it was large enough to have two levels. They’d climbed the stairs, his feet slipping on old newspapers, and he’d felt his vision grow blurry, sweat causing his shirt to cling to his back.
Her mother, he had to focus on finding Caryn’s mother. When she finally did, the relief in him nearly made him faint. He could escape now. And that had been his sole purpose—to get out. He had to get out.
But he couldn’t find his way. He went down the stairs but suddenly felt lost in a labyrinth. A labyrinth that seemed to grow smaller and smaller with each step. He felt as if the tunnels between the boxes were moving in closer and closer. He grabbed the front of his shirt, the collar feeling too tight, the room too warm. It was too warm because there were no windows. Why couldn’t he find any windows? Where was the door? Didn’t the place have a back door? He needed to find a door. A door to get out. He must get out.
He stumbled forward then saw a door and pulled. But too late he learned it wasn’t a route of escape; it was another chamber of horrors. A closet filled to the brim, with stuff, and like a live monster, it swayed. He quickly tried to close the door, but not soon enough. Items fell forward and he stumbled back to protect his head. That’s when the avalanche happened.
Within seconds he was buried. He could feel the weight of the items pressing him into the ground, darkness surrounding him, and there was no way out. He kept his hand outstretched; it was the only part of his body he could move. He had a small pocket of air, due to one small box that kept the rest of the pile from completely crushing him. But it didn’t matter.
He was dying.
Slowly.
His body couldn’t register pain, just fear. Fear that this would be his final moment. Fear that no one would find him. He couldn’t scream. Just like then. Alone in the box. In the dark. It had been so hot. Why was it so hot?
You’ll be safe here, the voice, he now knew as his aunt, had said.
But he didn’t feel safe. He felt scared. He didn’t like being there. He wanted his Mommy and Daddy. Why did his aunt keep him there? She said she was keeping him away from monsters, but he saw monsters in the box. He wanted to get out. Out! But when he cried out she got angry and banged on the box.
Only the bird made her stop. She liked the sound of the bird and soon he listened for the bird too. The bird was his friend. His only companion. It would chirp. And he imagined being a bird himself and flying away like the song she sang ‘Yellow Bird.’
Soon he felt himself drifting away, free from everything, soaring to the sky. Then he heard Caryn’s voice and felt her hand.
If he could have moved, he would have pulled his hand away. He didn’t want her to see him like this. He didn’t want her to worry about him. He didn’t want to be a burden to her. If he’d followed closely to the path she’d shown him, this wouldn’t have happened.
But once she touched him, he selfishly took hold. She was his life, his breath. His little bird outside of the box that never left him. That called to him. He registered pain and shame, but still she was his strength. But breathing was still hard. And waves of panic still threatened to consume him.
He listened to her voice. And before he lost consciousness he prayed, My love. My love. Don’t leave me.
Adrian stared up at the ceiling of the hospital room. But she had left him. He hadn’t gotten a chance to explain, and he knew her aunt would plant false thoughts in her mind.
“So how did it go?” his sister asked, coming into the room.
“I ruined it.”
“How?”
He told her about his conversation with Barbara.
Monica fell into a chair and sighed. “Did you make an agreement in blood? Tell her you changed your mind.”
“It’s not about me, it’s what she can do to Caryn. She’ll hurt her if I don’t stay away. Plus, there’s a chance Caryn blames me for what happened to her mother. It’s a mess.”
“Well she’s an organizer, now it’s her chance to prove herself.”
Adrian frowned. “Prove herself?”
Monica nodded. “Everybody knows how much you love her, but how much does she love you?”
Chapter Thirty
She couldn’t save her.
Caryn lay on her couch after another day of trying to get her mother’s house up to code feeling beaten and worn. Her mother’s words still echoed. “I hate you. Leave me alone! This is all your fault!”
Her brother walked away many times fed up with the abuse, her sister left in tears, but Caryn soldiered on as best she could. Despite her mother taking items out of the junk truck or shoving her away when Caryn took items to be donated, determined to supervise every item that would leave the house. She didn’t seem to realize the urgency. At times she just sat in the living room, smoothing out wrapping paper as if they were printed gold.
“Let them take the house,” her brother had said after one shouting match.
“Then what would we do with her?”
“Hell if I know.”
She’d gotten a small reprieve when she’d pulled some strings and gotten an extension.
But it was still an uphill battle. And she didn’t want to be alone. She wanted to be with Adrian. She wanted to bury her head in his chest and hold him tight. She wanted her mother to disappear from her life. Adrian had nearly been killed because she’d left him alone. She should have led him out. How could she have been so careless with something so precious?
She’d stayed away from visiting him, not because his mother asked her to, or even because her aunt continued to remind her where she placed blame. She stayed away because she wanted him to heal. What would he think of her now? Every time he looked at her face, would he remember that day? Her aunt Barbara had told her that he looked awful, traumatized, that they had him on anti-anxiety medicines. Had she really pushed him back that far? She needed to give him space to get over the trauma.
Plus she had to deal with the end of her sister’s marriage. Ella had called her and told her that Louis had moved out and served her papers. Happy endings weren’t in the cards for them.
Caryn closed her eyes. She just wanted to sleep. A knock on the door interrupted her plans. She softly swore then got up to answer it, expecting to see Terri who’d been helping her through the clean up. Instead she saw Rania. “I think it’s time you stopped feeling sorry for yourself,” she said.
Caryn shook her head and returned to the couch. “I don’t need this right now.”
“I’m exactly what you need. Isn’t it time you stopped running away from him?”
“In case you haven’t noticed, I haven’t done anything.”
“Doing nothing is the same thing as doing something. If you let water leak through your roof and don’t patch it up, you’re still letting water leak through your roof. Do you want to see him?”
Yes. “I can’t see him yet.”
“Why not?”
“His mother—”
“I’m not asking about his mother, I’m asking about him. Do you want to see him?”
“I can’t—”
“This is not a
hard question.”
Caryn threw up her hands, exasperated. “Yes.”
“Then go see him.”
“You don’t understand. His mother—”
“Does he live with his mother?”
“No.”
“Then what’s stopping you?”
Caryn waved her hands. “I’m not doing this.” She went to her bedroom then returned carrying the box from The Black Stockings Society. “You can take this back. I’ll pay whatever penalty.”
Rania barely glanced at the box, her gaze fixated on Caryn’s face. “Giving up things is easy for you, isn’t it?”
Caryn’s eyebrows shot up. “You think this is easy?”
“For you? Yes. Letting go is easier than holding on.”
“That’s not true.”
“Then why won’t you see him?”
“I’m afraid to.”
“Why?”
She gripped her hands into fists. “Because then I won’t want to let him go.”
“So?”
“And I’ll want to hold onto him as tightly as…as tightly as…”
“Your mother holds onto to her things?” Rania finished.
“Yes,” she said in a raw whisper.
“It’s not the same. Holding onto something out of love is not the same as holding onto something you want to possess. You’ve become so afraid of holding onto anything you’ve not allowed yourself to see the difference.”
“What about that saying that if you love something you let it go? My aunt—”
“Is not always right. She saved you once. She gave you a place to stay, but you don’t owe her your life for that. It’s okay to disappoint her.”
“She’s helped me so much and—”
“Her disapproval hurts?”
Caryn nodded.
“Has she ever told you how proud she is of you?”
Caryn stared at her surprised. She’d never thought of that, but her aunt rarely praised her. She was usually critical. You’re fragile. You’re damage. Don’t be like your mother.