by T L Harty
It was an enjoyable evening. When we got home, we played a hand of gin before calling it a night. Gramps was caught cheating, as usual. He was discarding more than one card at a time.
“Oh, Wayne!” Grammy squealed. She threw her hand into the center of the table. He only laughed. It was times like this that made my heart full.
“I’m going to go put on my pajamas,” I announced. “It’s too early to hit the hay, but it won’t be long. Thank you both for having me this summer and the wonderful trip, Grammy.”
“You’re welcome,” they said, in unison.
Sleep was not peaceful. I didn’t have a vision as much as a sound effect. It was of metal colliding, a sound reminiscent of a car accident. Sirens were blaring off in the distance, almost comforting me that everything would be OK, and help was coming. There was nothing to see. It was dark. Over and over again the sound could be heard.
Morning was a welcome sight. The noises had stopped. My mother must have been in a car accident at some time. There was no reason to ask Grammy about the noise because, if my mother was in a car accident, she obviously survived.
Dad was coming to pick me up this morning, and I’d better be ready. He loved shooting the breeze with Gramps, but he never really got along with Grammy. He always thought that after mom left, she tried to tell him how to raise me. He wasn’t very receptive of her advice or her brand of “help.” Well, he didn’t actually call it help. He used words like controlling or interference.
When I was six and became ill with a case of chicken pox, Grammy came to our house to nurse me. One night they argued outside my bedroom door. Dad had grown tired of Grammy’s suggestions. He said something like: Why would I take your advice? Because your daughter turned out so grand? Grammy left 10 minutes after that. Dad had a point, but Grammy also took better care of me than anyone.
Dad’s arrival was right before lunch. They asked him to stay, but he politely said that he needed to get back, informing them it was a long drive. Information they knew. Dad carried my suitcase to the car while I tearfully said goodbye. He came back to thank my grandmother, trying to offer her money for the trip or my stay this summer. Both were readily refused, as always.
Gramps shook Dad’s hand. “You know, Jim, my great-nephew, Jed, is going to school real close to you,” Gramps said. “I’d be most grateful if you could keep an eye on him if he needs anything.”
“Of course, Wayne,” Dad agreed, smiling. “Whatever he needs, we’ll take him out to dinner when he gets into town and show him around.”
“Good man,” Gramps finished.
We were on the road in no time. Because Dad didn’t accept their offer for lunch, we would stop soon for a meal. That might be a good time to mention the situation with Jed…or not. I’d wait to see if Dad was in a good mood. We talked about our summers. Dad mentioned he had a new girlfriend and that I’d really like her. I wouldn’t, but that was his feeble attempt at putting in a good word for her.
“You know,” he joked, “my girlfriend-picker has been broken for a few years.”
Dad and I had just reunited so I’d hold off on correcting him. I’m not sure he possessed a reliable “girlfriend-picker.” There wasn’t one good outcome out of ten or so. There was the one that ran off with her psychiatrist, one that came home with blood all over her and then disappeared, the one that tried to hit me, there were a few here and there that he got rid of, one who stole from him, a couple I ran off, and one that had accidentally set fire to the house. All in all, it wasn’t a stellar list of women.
The fact that he just shared his news of a girlfriend made me really want to tell him about my new boyfriend…my first boyfriend. Then, the sounds from last night came upon me, worrying me that the metal crunching might have something to do with this car. I’d wait to share my news when we stopped for lunch. It was a safer plan.
A little restaurant off the highway is where we had lunch. It served standard diner meals. We both ordered a patty melt and fries. We were peas in a pod when it came to most tastes or opinions. There were things we differed on. For example, I didn’t shamelessly flirt with the waitress, embarrassing my child.
“How about you calm down on the flirting, Dad?” I suggested. “It’s awkward. Didn’t you just tell me you had a new girlfriend?”
“Sorry,” he apologized. “The waitress really likes me.”
“She likes a nice tip, Dad,” I countered. “Anyway, I want to talk to you about Gramps’ nephew, Jed.”
Dad was prematurely placing his napkin on his lap in anticipation of the meal to come. “Go ahead. I’m listening,” he assured.
His eyes were the kind of ice blue color you didn’t see very often. Because it had been a while since we’d talked like this, looking into his eyes immediately erased my confidence. Suddenly, there was regret for declaring the topic of conversation.
“What about him?” he wondered, clueless of my intention.
“He’s my boyfriend,” I squeaked, “my very first boyfriend.”
He stroked his brown beard while moving his lips around. He was mulling over the information, looking in my direction every now and again.
His silence made me nervous, so I blurted out, “He is going to college by us, so we can date.” It was too soon to offer up additional information when he hadn’t finished dissecting the first bombshell. “He is super sweet,” I added.
My dad raised his eyebrows. I was trying desperately to shut up, but all my common sense had been lost. “It’s not that big of an age difference,” I continued. “He’s only a freshman in college and I’ll be a junior.” To this, my dad just sighed.
Thank goodness for the fast service at this diner. Our waitress delivered our lunch before Dad could respond. If he was attempting to digest all this info, it would be best for him not to attempt the task on an empty stomach.
“Is there anything else I can get you, sugar?” The waitress asked.
Dad grabbed a fry from his plate. “Actually,” he answered, “I would like your opinion on a certain matter.”
“I don’t have much to give,” the waitress chuckled, “but an opinion is easy.”
Dad pointed his fry in my direction. “This is my daughter,” he explained. “She just told me she has her first boyfriend. What is a father to do?” He popped the fry in his mouth, looking between the waitress and me.
“Well,” the waitress said, looking at me, “I’d say you’re lucky she hasn’t had a dozen boyfriends already. One of our cooks was eyeing her.” She pointed to the cook behind the grill. He smiled and waved.
Dad gave the cook some stink eye, immediately halting the wave. “How old is he?” Dad wondered.
She tapped Dad quickly on the shoulder with a menu. “He’s thirty-two,” she informed, before walking away.
Because we were both hungry, few words were spoken during lunch. As always, Dad finished eating very quickly. When he was already done, I had only finished a quarter of the sandwich and half of the fries.
“Do you really need to have a boyfriend?” he whined. My mouth was full, so I just shook my head up and down, with a look of apology on my face. “I’ll have to meet him,” he demanded. “You can’t stay out late. He better be good to you. I’m not going to like him.”
“Dad!” I exclaimed, when my chewing had ended. “Stop it! Of course you will meet him. You may not want to like him, but you will.”
When we got back on the road, we talked about everything except the new boyfriend or girlfriend. We simply enjoyed good conversation, while pretending that the world outside the car didn’t exist.
As we approached our last exit toward home, Dad grabbed my hand. He apologized to me for not being thrilled about my relationship with Jed, and said he would try to handle it better, explaining that he still thinks of me as his little girl. He asked for me to be patient with him, and laughingly informed me that there would be missteps in the process.
“I will always be your little girl,” I said, as we pulled up into the dri
veway.
We were both a little teary-eyed, slow to open our car doors and let the world back in. It was a foolish notion because reality may lack many things, but never patience.
Chapter 15- Bruce Returns
It was difficult to concentrate on the conversations during breakfast. Bruce had returned to the castle, and was now sitting across the table from me. Trying to put him out of my mind was an impossible task these last twelve hours. It was similarly difficult to avoid staring at him. It took sheer will power not to push the plates off the table and crawl over to him.
Everyone had spoken to each other except for Bruce and me, so I decided to break the ice. “Where do you go when you’re not staying here, Bruce?” I asked.
“I have a house very close to Tracy’s,” he responded, “but it’s higher up in the mountains.”
His voice penetrated my flesh, making my stomach leap. Other parts of me tingled. It was ironic that I told Bridget he was merely lusting after me, when my desire for him was completely uncontrollable.
“Bruce,” Bridget interjected, “would you like to meet with Muriel this morning or afternoon? I’m not sure how much she and I will be able to accomplish, so take your pick.”
How interesting that no one thought to ask me if I had a preference. Bruce chose the time after breakfast and told Bridget he should be finished before lunch. She agreed to that. Shortly afterward, Deidra and Bridget left the dining room together.
“We could go to your apartment to talk,” Bruce suggested.
“My room, you mean?” I asked, confused.
He nodded his head in the direction of the door. We got up, walking down the main corridor, and then heading upstairs, as if we were going to the library. We stopped at the wooden, double doors in the upstairs hall.
When he reached for the doorknob, I walked over to the ledge, opposite the doors. There was a wonderful view of the room down below, framed by two large upstairs pillars. The library door was open at the end of the hall, and I could see inside, thinking that might be a safer place to go.
“It’s probably not a good idea to go in there,” I pointed out. “That’s your home.”
“This is your home,” he corrected. “I mean, I hope to share it one day, but I am merely keeping it warm for its rightful mistress.”
He motioned for me to go in. I walked past him trying to avoid any contact or breathing. His scent was intoxicating.
The so-called apartment was just as big as my house, if not bigger. The main and only room was rounded, like the outside of this portion of the castle. I foolishly expected rooms to be squared off.
In the center of the vastness was a living room area. There was a large rounded structure past the living area which had two staircases on either side leading up to something. If I had to guess, the bedroom was on the second floor. The ceiling was at least thirty feet tall, coming to a peak in the center that was even taller.
Because of the rounded bedroom, the rest of the floor space down below was shaped similarly to a half moon. There was art work in the living space. To the right was a kitchen with a dining room set. The left side of the room touted an office-type area with plenty of space to add pieces of furniture. It didn’t take long for me to picture myself living here. The gorgeous room and layout was completely suited to my taste.
“May I use the bathroom?” I asked.
“Of course,” Bruce said. He touched my back to show me the way and I recoiled from his touch. “Through there,” he said, pointing to the left side of the room.
I walked between the living room and office area, reaching a doorway to the left of one of the stairways. A few more steps brought me inside a massive walk-in closet. It was long, reaching the entire length of the rounded structure, which would have been to the edge of the kitchen. It was about nine feet wide. Had it not been for the bathroom’s large opening and many windows, this area would’ve been incredibly dark. Instead, the light illuminated the closet area.
The bathroom was on the other side of the closet. A wide, diagonal path only a few feet long led into the bathroom that was fit for a queen. It was the shape of a half circle and had to be close to the same size as the living area in the main room. Directly across from the door was the biggest bathtub I’d ever seen. To the left of that was a showerhead that just came out of the wall. There was a drain on the floor, but no curtains or doors…just a drain.
Looking up, there were windows in the ceiling that were the same size as the ones around the rest of the bathroom. Huge curtains lined the walls in between the windows. They helped dampen the sound, but would also cover the windows, if need be. There were other things to take into account and notice, but I really did have to use the facilities. It was over to the right side of the room where the linen cabinet and sink were also located.
After using the restroom, I entered the main room, saying, “This is quite the set-up.” It was important to keep my distance from Bruce, so I went to the dining table. There were only four seats around the table, ensuring we’d maintain our personal space. He came to the table, sitting in the chair across from me.
Looking at Bruce, small talk was the last thing on my mind. Also, the way he disappeared from the castle, I didn’t want to take any chances wasting this time together.
“Why did you wait so long for me?” I asked.
It took Bruce a while to respond. “When I was eighteen, someone asked if I’d like to be happy,” he explained. “I’ll admit that, at that age, happiness doesn’t take much. A beautiful woman and a good meal or drink every now and again would do it.” He smiled while running his hand through his hair. His tone turned serious. “Then it was explained to me what it was like to be with the right woman,” he added.
“And what is that like?” I questioned.
“For starters, it would be the best sex I’d ever have,” he shared. “As a man, that certainly got my attention. But, all facets of life would be better when shared with the right person- conversation, adventures, family…even the mundane. I had to know more. Something inside me knew she was telling the truth.”
“Hmm” I mused. “And how is it that you and these other boys came to be selected?”
“It’s no mystery,” he told me. “We are born of a certain blood line, just as you were. Your sweat spell holds no power over me. Because of that, you would know that my love could be trusted- that my choice to be with you was my own.”
“But why wait so long,” I pressed, “especially after I was married?”
“At first, when all five of your suitors were gathered together,” he started, “it was merely a competition. What did any of us know of love at that age? We only wanted to win or be proven to be the best. Everyone held on for the first year, but you could not be found, so two men left. After three years, when we were twenty-one, another man forfeited. The year we turned twenty-five, my last rival decided to leave.”
Bruce got teary-eyed, while telling the story. “That last man was like a brother to me by the time he departed,” he said. “I was the winner by a sad elimination of time. I’m not a better man than any of the other candidates. I’ve had my fair share of relationships, but they never worked out because they were not like the one I was promised to have with you. I’m thirty-eight now, but I feel like my life is getting ready to start anew since you’ve come.”
He kindly gave me a moment to think about what he had just explained. The sweet comment about his life “starting anew” would not go unnoticed. It was that kind of vulnerability that deserved appreciation. However, there was something missing in his story. He was keeping something back.
“Two questions, if I may,” I said. “What are you not telling me? And when you said she was telling the truth, who were you referring to?”
“Wow,” Bruce said, smiling. “I was in the running for your hand for seven years, and I’ve never told anyone this. My father met you. When he was dying in the hospital, he sent for me. He made me promise that if anyone came for me and asked me to ca
ndidate for your hand- that I would stay until the last. He promised me greater joy than any man deserved. His request could even be considered his dying wish. I wouldn’t deny him that.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your father,” I acknowledged. “When did I meet him?”
“Thank you, but it was a long time ago. I was almost eighteen,” he said. “Apparently he was your cab driver when you were in Ireland with your grandmother. He said he spent the day with the two of you in Kildare.”
It took a while for me to remember my time in Kildare. “Oh, yes,” I recalled. “He had quite a healthy appetite and we argued about sheela-na-gigs.”
Bruce laughed. “That sounds about right,” he said. “He passed away about six months after that. We never guessed he was sick because he kept it to himself, and wanted to keep providing for us.”
“Clio’s mom was the one who approached me about being a candidate for your hand,” he interjected. It took me a while to figure out what Bruce was talking about, as my mind was off on other subjects. But, he was merely answering my second question.
“So here we are,” I stated the obvious. “Now what?”
“Well, that is up to you,” Bruce said, staring intently. “I have to keep going away because being around you, and not being with you, proves too difficult. You also have training to complete, which I’m not supposed to interfere with.”
“So, you wait some more?” I wondered.
“It won’t be long now,” he said. “If after Clio’s week of training, you are still unsure of our relationship- there is no reason for me to stay.”
It was pretty clear what he meant, so I didn’t expound on the subject. How was I expected to make a decision about a man I barely knew? And yet, passionate and loving thoughts of Bruce were barraging my mind like a tidal wave. Conversely, thoughts of Rick were like a drip from a sink…annoying and intermittent.
“Admittedly, I’ve not been very open to getting to know you,” I said. “I’m sorry. When I’m close to you, there are these fiery, carnal desires that can barely be controlled.” We both smiled at my choice of words, as Bruce shook his head in agreement. “I’m not in a very trusting place right now,” I explained, “but I see you in my visions years from now. We’re both sinfully content. I want so badly to believe in that.”