“Elizabeth, he sees that light in you. He thinks I haven’t been watching, but I see what he looks like after you two have been out walking together.” She nodded toward the door as though Val were standing there listening to them. “He doesn’t come in with that smug, cat-ate-the-canary look he usually has when he’s been with a woman. You have him thinking. I’m not sure, but I’d guess you’re making him feel there are light and good and beautiful things in the world, and it’s all out there for him. That’s hope in a nutshell. Now, does he think he deserves you? That’s what I want to know.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Maybe that’s what just happened. A few minutes ago—” She pointed at the door and for a moment felt she too could see Val. “He could have taken advantage of me and he didn’t. He seemed sad. I think he even felt sorry for me.” She lay back again on the pillows and turned away from Rose.
“I’m so ashamed. I can’t even look at you.”
Rose placed her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “Well, you’re going to have to look at me, honey, because you need somebody to talk to about him.”
“But he’s your nephew . . .”
“And you’re like a daughter to me. Seems to me I’m the best person to know.”
“Oh, Rose.” Elizabeth sat up again and hugged Rose to her. “Thank you. You would be the best mother I could ever hope for.”
Rose pulled away from the embrace but held Elizabeth by the shoulders.
“Then listen to me when I tell you, you can’t go beating yourself up like this. For all you know, child, you could be saving Val’s soul.”
“I don’t understand. How?” Elizabeth was surprised because this was close to how her friendship with Val had begun. She really had wanted to save Val somehow and she still thought it was vain of her to have ever believed she could do it.
Rose pointed at Elizabeth’s chest and Elizabeth’s heart ached recalling Val doing the same thing weeks ago.
“They say when you see the face of God for the first time, you see Him in the face of someone you love. That’s not been possible for Val because he never loved anyone before. Now he can put two and two together because I know he can’t have sat up there in that church every week like I know he does and not scooped up anything.”
“But that’s like saying a wrong makes a right. I can’t be with him, Rose. I’m married. How can I even set foot in church again?”
Rose leaned back and looked at Elizabeth. She seemed to be appraising her face. “You think God would condemn you for loving someone?”
Elizabeth laughed wryly and shook her head. “I know a number of people in our congregation who would say that’s exactly where I’m headed.”
Rose waved a hand as though she would swat such people away from her. “Then they don’t know anything about love—God’s love or any kind of love. Is love what other people say it is, or is it what you feel in your heart? I admire you, child, for being capable of it.” Rose gently touched Elizabeth’s face again. “I pity you too because I know how much it hurts and that you have a long road ahead of you.”
A single tear spilled from Elizabeth’s left eye and streamed down her cheek.
“Tell me what to do.”
Rose sighed and shook her head. “Well, I know Val won’t like it, but it seems to me you should get away while you can.”
She tugged on Rose’s hands. “Oh, can I do that? He would be so angry! He already thinks I treat him badly.”
“We can’t be concerned with him right now.” She searched Elizabeth’s face once more. “The question is, can you handle being gone?”
Elizabeth looked down and shrugged. “I don’t know. It already hurts to think I might not see him tomorrow.”
“But you won’t always be here, will you?” Rose leaned in and cupped Elizabeth’s cheek with her right hand. “I know it won’t be easy to be separated from him. All these days of seeing you two together put me in mind of my younger self. Lord knows I didn’t expect to be remembering something like love at my age, but you got me thinking about it and I do know what you’re feeling, child. I know you’d rather jump out that window right now than go more than a few hours without seeing him. But you’re going to go home one day, that’s just the fact of the matter. You have to find out what you’re going to be, with or without him. That may as well start now, don’t you think?”
Elizabeth stared at her friend a moment longer. She took a deep breath and nodded.
“Yes. Yes, you’re right, Rose. I’ve got to go.”
She moved as though she would get up and walk right out of the house, but Rose pressed her forearm and said, “You rest a bit. I’ll send Annie to pack your things.”
Rose got up and kissed Elizabeth’s tearstained cheek. “God bless you, child.”
Elizabeth nodded and watched as Rose padded out of the room on her small, quiet feet. She felt the exhaustion beginning to settle over her, but she wouldn’t give in to it, not yet.
“Yes. Thank you.”
CHAPTER 36
Val
Mercylands, Late July 1947
Val stood on the terrace with his head back and his mouth open as the rain poured onto him and into him. He thought if he stood there the water would run deep enough to find what had failed him on the brink of victory. But when he swallowed he only tasted the bitterness of his own body and didn’t know anything more than he had before.
He spit on the ground and sat down in one of Aunt Rose’s wrought iron chairs.
Elizabeth loved him, and she was, as of a half hour ago, willing to go to bed with him. He saw her in the fray as a shining angel, sword in hand, fighting toward him with all her brave and beautiful might. Was that what had moved him? That didn’t make sense. He’d seen women fight for him, one straining to grasp the other’s perfectly straightened hair in her fists. They would tear at dresses, throw shots of Jack Daniels in faces, and grapple on the floor until their underwear showed white and voluminous above their thighs. Val would hoot, turn to the bartender, and order another gin and tonic.
He had laughed then, but he was far from mirth now. Still, he felt he was on the edge of something that hurt and tickled him at the same time. It seemed if he looked up he would see it coming, loping along the horizon like a new rising sun, a joyous thing coming to take hold of him. He had known that sensation before in the moment right after pushing a needle into his arm. It felt like a tiny wave of happiness and he rode it on a fire horse galloping madly through his veins, bucking and stomping when it arrived at his heart. How could he have that feeling while sitting there in a storm like a miserable fool?
As if in response, the rain lessened and stopped. The night air, thick with the smell of water, hung heavy over him. Val shifted his wet feet beneath him and sat back, closing his eyes. Elizabeth felt so light in his arms, so light. And he wanted her, without question—had defied the demands of his body when he walked away from her. That made him grateful for the rain on the terrace, grateful for the cool water helping him to settle.
He hoped Elizabeth would be grateful for his self-control, then he laughed at the thought. He had been anything but in control of himself. However, he had spared her, and he fully expected her to recognize the obligation she owed to him. He needed to make use of it.
“You shouldn’t sit there like that in those wet clothes.”
Aunt Rose carried two large, thick pink towels folded over her arm and held close to her side. She handed one to Val and slowly draped the other over a chair before lowering herself into it. Val put his towel over his head and leaned down over his knees. He couldn’t look at her just then.
“Aunt Rose.” He put his hands on his head.
“I know, honey.” She patted him on the knee and smiled. “You don’t have to say anything.”
Val pushed the towel back and around his neck. “Something’s different. It’s different this time.”
She reached out and touched him on the arm. “You’re in love, Val. After all your years of playing arou
nd, you’d think you’d recognize it when you’re in it.”
“No, I’m not!” he said, the words too fast out of him, a shot.
Rose sat back in the chair and clasped her hands over her belly. “You say that like they are the only words you know how to say because you’ve been saying them your whole life. Don’t sound a bit like something you meant to say.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you, Aunt Rose. But I know what I’m saying.”
“And I know you. If you didn’t care about Elizabeth you’d be in bed right now sleeping like a baby. Instead you’re out here drowning yourself. And she’s upstairs ready to jump out of her own skin.”
Val leaned on his left elbow as his hand went to his mouth, his fingers folded just at his chin. “Is she? What else did she say?”
She reached out, lightning quick, and slapped the side of his knee. “I didn’t come out here to go telling tales on that poor child.”
Val, surprised, recoiled. “All right! I was just asking a question.”
“Then let’s all ask questions.” Rose raised her arms to the sky then pointed at Val. “Here’s one for you. What do you think you’re doing then, if you’re not in love?”
Val pulled the towel from his neck and sat back, but said nothing.
“I remember a time when you were about ten and you came running in here with a turtle you found under the bushes.” She pointed as though a young Val would appear on the lawn in front of them. “Your mama said you could keep it so you put it in a box full of green leaves with a dish of water and you kept it under the lamp in your bedroom.” Aunt Rose laughed and shook her head. “You were so proud of that turtle. Talked about it so much you almost busted my ears over it. Never saw you happier than when you were taking care of that little thing. What’d you call it?”
“Shell. I named it Shell,” said Val, astonished by his ability to recall it.
“Shell, that’s right. Then one week later—” Rose raised her arms again. “Poof! No more Shell. Gone. I asked you where that turtle went and you just shrugged and said you put it back under the bushes where you found it.”
He shrugged. “Yeah, I did. Why you talking to me about some old pet?”
“Hush, I’m trying to tell you something.” She pointed at him. “Like I said, I know you. When something makes you happy, you drop it like it’s hotter than coal. I’ve seen it. There are times when you strut around like the world was made just for you. But when you take it in your hands you only want to hold on to the parts that don’t mean a thing.” She shook her head. “You don’t keep anything good—anything hopeful.”
Val shifted in his chair. He was beginning to feel chilled by his wet clothing.
“What if you were in love, Val? Would that really be so bad? Love don’t come knocking at your door every single day.” She lowered her eyes at Val and peered at him over her glasses. “You do know that. Why can’t you let yourself enjoy it a little bit, even if it can’t last? In my book it’s always a good day when you get to hear someone loves you.”
“Aunt Rose,” Val said slowly, “love isn’t exactly convenient for a man with my reputation.”
“It may not be.” She shrugged and laughed. “Could be all the more reason to try. But Val, you deserve love, you do, whether you know it or not in that hard head of yours. You may not believe it right now, but that’s God’s honest truth.”
Val looked down and stared at his hands.
“All right, Aunt Rose. I’ll think about it.” But how did anyone think about being in love? Val wondered. It seemed like a senseless vocation, like something you couldn’t think about because it was more likely to sneak up and sink you before you knew you were in it. Then he thought of the feelings that swirled in him just before his aunt arrived. Was that what was coming to him?
Rose moved in her chair as though settling into a thought. “And what about the Malveaux woman? What would she have to say about it?” Her eyes laid into him, hard and stern, a look he hadn’t seen since he was a teenager.
Val shook his head. “She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”
“Doesn’t she?” She peered at him again over her glasses. “Oh, be careful, Val.”
He waved her off like a pitch he didn’t want to throw. “It’s all right, Aunt Rose. She’s . . . she’s something else to me.”
“You’re on dangerous ground.” She grasped the hand Val floated through the air and made him look at her. “There are people in this world who can never get other people to love them the way they want to be loved. It’s like they spend their whole lives on their knees in the dirt in the woods trying to light a wet match. Can’t spark nothing. The more they can’t, the more they want to burn the whole forest to the ground. I can tell she’s one of them.” Rose tapped her index finger on his knee as if to focus his attention. “They’re dangerous. They know they’ll always be second rate, and they’ll try to make you and everyone else pay for it. Be careful of that woman, Val. Just be careful.”
Val wasn’t sure he understood what she was talking about, but he was also old enough to know better than to dismiss anything she had to tell him. “I will. I promise, I will.”
“All right then.” She looked at him a moment longer before she put her hands on the chair arms and began pushing herself up. Val jumped up to help. “Thank you, honey,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek. “Good night. And don’t stay out here in those wet clothes.”
“I won’t. Thank you, Aunt Rose.”
Val didn’t go inside.
He began to walk along the terrace. Happiness—what was Aunt Rose talking about? He liked his life just fine. Who cared if he didn’t go around chasing some sunny-side up business? He enjoyed what he enjoyed at a level where he could be safe and still keep hold of his own mind. This way he didn’t have to be a slave to worrying he was going to lose something important to him. If that’s what Aunt Rose saw in him then she was right. Whether he did or didn’t deserve it had nothing to do with it. It was about being a man in the real world where loss was on the menu every day.
He knew he used the word “love” a lot with Elizabeth, but only because it meant something singular and precious to her. He needed to hold it out to her as an innocent offering like a single-stem rose, knowing she would ignore the thorns and grasp it at her peril. He enjoyed how she weakened each time he uttered the word. The thorns had become his chisel and he’d chipped away at her bit by bit until tonight, when finally she took on the shape he had worked toward so diligently.
Val sat again, crossed his legs, and stuffed his hands in his pockets. If this were love then he had indeed worked for it. Didn’t he achieve—no, create—something that wasn’t there before? Who was he other than a bad piece of gossip to Elizabeth Townsend before they had met? He had been no different to her than the man who delivered her mail. And now she couldn’t sleep because of Val Jackson. She struggled so hard to love him. His angel.
What if you were in love, Val? Would that really be so bad?
No, Val thought. He could linger here awhile and enjoy it like a pleasant walk in a garden. He had earned it. Then he could fully, truthfully embrace his angel. The thought of doing so released the feeling he had earlier and, as though he’d given it permission to bloom, it spread throughout his being and warmed him. It felt good, perhaps even necessary. He stretched his legs out in front of him and fell asleep.
In his dream he thought he was waking to the morning sun. The backs of his eyelids glowed orange-red and he felt a blowing hot wind on his face. He rubbed his eyes and opened them only to find a black night sky. Then he saw it—a dragon. It was covered in silver and green scales and when it reared backwards, revealing horrible blue claws, it opened its mouth and split the sky with an inferno. Val fell to the ground, too stunned to cry out. He only stared at the beast and shielded his face from the heat with his hand. The beast laughed then, and the sound boomed down onto the lawn and bounced over Val, filling his ears. He covered his ears with his hands
and tried to push himself backwards into the house. He wanted to cry. The dragon laughed like a woman, and there was something in the laugh Val found achingly familiar. It reared up into the sky once more then dove, dove fast and hard toward him.
His whole body shook with terror. No—he realized only his shoulder was shaking, moving back and forth of its own volition. Val opened his eyes and saw Sebastian shaking him by the shoulder.
“Sir, sir, you gotta wake up.”
“What? What’s going on?” Val struggled back up through the clouds of sleep. It was no longer dark, but not yet daybreak. He began to focus on Sebastian’s face. He looked calm, but urgent.
“Sir,” Sebastian said crisply. “Mrs. Townsend is leaving.”
“What? Where is she?” He pushed himself out of the chair.
“I think she’s already gone down to the car, sir.”
Val, his still-damp clothes clinging to him, ran across the terrace, down the steps, and across the lawn to the driveway. A car, its lights on, was already far down by the gates. Val sprinted hard toward it, but the car slipped through the entrance and was gone. He kicked at the grass and swung at the air, wanting so badly to throw or hit something that the emptiness of his hands burned. The sound of the dragon’s laugh came to him then, loud and persistent. This time he placed the voice with precision. Mae’s laughter filled his head.
When Sebastian joined him in the driveway he had regained his breath and was able to speak with the concrete-hard tones he knew to be his own.
“Follow her,” he said. “I don’t care how you do it, just follow her. Report back to me as soon as possible. I want to know everything—everything! You understand me? She stops for milk, you tell me how big the bottle was.”
Sebastian quickly scanned the road in the direction Val was looking. “Yes, sir!” he said and ran off to the garage.
Unforgivable Love Page 27