Loving Your Lies

by Shelly, Piper

  A dish cloth wrapped around the handles of the pot should have prevented the hot metal from burning my skin. Unfortunately, the bunch of cloth made it hard to get a good grip. When I lifted the heavy pot from the heat, the left handle slipped out of my hold. In a mad reflex, I pulled the right side higher and the boiling water poured over my left hand.

  Everyone froze.

  And then all hell broke loose, starting with me screaming my head off. The pot dropped and clattered on the floor tiles with hot water splashing all around. Frightened by my screaming, my mother and aunt cried in union. Instantly, Albert appeared in the door, terrified at what was going on.

  Hands touched me. Patted me. I was shoved, pushed, yanked, and dragged. The dog barked, fleeing from the room, knocking Marie over. Someone kicked the kettle to the corner.

  And then Julian was with me.

  Grabbing my shoulders, he shook me once, forcing me to stare into his intense blue eyes. This alone stopped my screams, even with the excruciating pain searing up my arm. Next he closed his fingers gently around my burned hand.

  And the pain eased.

  My jaw dropped. I gaped at him. But he didn’t give me a single second to gather myself. Ushering me to the sink, he turned on the tap and held my hand underneath the stream to cool my burn. But it wasn’t necessary. The pain had fully vanished, and the way he’d wrapped his fingers around mine, the water didn’t even touch my skin.

  Breathing deep, I kept still in his hold but focused on his tense face. After a long moment, he switched his gaze to me.

  “Marie, call an ambulance,” my mother cried.

  “No,” Julian commanded, without tearing his gaze from my eyes. “I’ll drive her.”

  I sniffed, completely dumbstruck, when he wrapped a clean dish cloth around my hand that by now should have started to blister. Probably just to cover up the evidence of a sound skin from everyone’s eyes. I let him proceed and moved toward the door at his firm urging.

  Grabbing Marie’s car keys, which he’d formerly placed on the credenza, Julian wrapped his arm around my middle and made me walk outside at a resolute stride. My head swarming, I had to watch my feet at his push. In the garage, he opened the passenger door for me, helped me climb into the seat, and leaned over to buckle me in.

  Seconds later he pulled out. The tires squealed as he sped off toward town.

  The spinning of my mind ceased. I gave my hand a test as I clenched it around the dish cloth. Nothing. No pain, no tickle, no soreness. How was this possible? What was there in Julian’s touch to make a second-degree burn heal in the blink of an eye? As if it never happened.

  I gave him two minutes—one hundred and twenty flicks of the second hand on my watch precisely—during which he could have come up with a reasonable explanation.

  But he remained silent.

  I removed the cloth and tossed it into his lap. “You can stop now. We both know I don’t need to see a doctor.”

  A couple of heartbeats went by without a change on his face. He just stared out the windshield. Then the car skittered to a halt at the side of the street. Pressed by the seat belt, all air whizzed from my lungs. When I could breathe again, I waited for his reaction.

  And he still said nothing. Gaze focused front, his knuckles turned white.

  “You’re going to break the steering wheel.” Slowly, I reached out to touch his clamped hand, but he hissed as if in deep pain and jerked it away. So did I.

  “Julian, what is going on?” My voice cracked on the last word.

  He inhaled deeply, swept his finger and thumb over his eyebrows, then pinched the bridge of his nose. All of a sudden, he yanked the door open and climbed out, faster than I could reach over to stop him. The bang of the door slamming shut had my ears ringing.

  After a long moment and a deep, encouraging breath, I eased out, too. Julian kept up his angry pace, up and down the street, kicking at stones in his path.

  Scruples held me back, rooted. But the moment he pivoted once more and I caught a glimpse of his torn face, I realized it wasn’t wrath that drove him wild like this. It was frustration.

  He stopped a few feet away from the car.

  “Julian, I need to know what’s going on here.”

  “Then tell me what you want to hear!” he shouted, rounding the car.

  “The truth, in God’s name,” I yelled back, feeling cornered with the car at my back and his wild face in front of me. “How about your last name, for starters? Or where exactly is the agency located you apparently work for? And then, of course, how the hell did you heal my hand?”

  He braced himself against the roof of the car, hemming me in between his muscular arms. His head dropped between his shoulders. Silky blond strands fell over his forehead, begging me to run my fingers through them.

  My hands fisted at my sides. “Why won’t you tell me?”

  “I can’t.” He spoke through gritted teeth.

  He could answer none of my three questions? Rage soared from my gut to my tightening chest. “You can’t, or you don’t want to?”

  Suddenly, his eyes turned from their usual brilliant blue to a misty gray. I sucked in a breath, and he quickly shut his eyes.

  “What are you?” I whispered, tears of tension trying to win the battle. But I fought hard to keep them at bay, because however alien Julian seemed to me at this moment, I still wouldn’t cave in to my qualms. I wouldn’t be scared of him.

  There was a long pause in which his lips compressed to a thin line. “Please, Jona, don’t do this to me.” The softness of his tone failed to cover the torture he obviously went through. His forehead lay in wrinkles, his eyes were squeezed shut. Short breaths erupted fast from his chest.

  To see so much torture in his gaze was hard to bear. Cupping his face, I made him look at me again. I swallowed hard at the fading light in his eyes that I had gotten so used to since the first day we had met. “Why don’t you trust me?”

  “I do.”

  “But not enough.” I leaned forward to brush my lips against his. “You broke through to me so easily. Now let me know what I can do to get through to you.” Pressing my lips to the corner of his mouth, I inhaled the scent of warm, wild wind and ocean, feeling the need to get closer to him. Not physically. But to reach for the part of him that he fought so hard to keep locked away from me.

  His stiff reaction told me he didn’t want me to proceed with the kiss, but he didn’t pull away either. A deep moan tore from him as he finally gave in to my urge. His hands slid from the roof of the car to lock behind my waist. I cupped his neck, stood on tiptoes and pressed hard against his chest. His tongue swept over my lips, delved in between the seam, and began a slow game of give and take.

  With a sigh, I broke the kiss and gazed into his eyes. The blue was shining through again. “You taught me how to trust you. It’s time to return this trust, don’t you think?”

  He shook his head. “This is not like me helping you to step out on the balcony.”

  “Then it’s what? Me jumping off a cliff?”

  His soft lips pressed against my brow, infecting me with a new rush of relief and serenity. For the flash of a second, I knew it would be wise to jerk out of his hold now. To stay clear in my mind and stop whatever magic he was trying to weave around me. Because—

  Why again?

  Tension eased from my body and mind. I didn’t react fast enough, and it took him only a heartbeat to make me surrender. I sank into his embrace, reveled in his scent and touch.

  “In your case,” he whispered and his lips brushed my hair. “It would be like sky diving.”

  In spite of the unusual sleepiness that crept over me, I heard myself say, “I would sky dive with you.” And it was nothing but the truth.

  It had to be the shock of my burn and the argument with Julian that exhausted me. My eyes refused to stay open, yawns kept breaking my train of thought.

  “And yet, you wouldn’t trust me enough to love me.” His voice came from far away as darkness cl
osed in on me.

  24

  HE CUT OUT A CHAPTER

  I CAME AWAKE to the monotonous engine drone of Marie’s car. My temple pressed against the cool glass of the passenger side window. My head throbbed as the car rolled over the cobble stone driveway and into the garage. A low moan of pain escaped me as I turned toward the driver.

  The sight of Julian confused me. I searched my mind for a reason why we’d been out this late. It was already dark, and no one was with us. In the little light the dashboard provided, Julian’s face appeared tense.

  “Did I fall asleep?” I rubbed my eyes and noticed something was wrapped around my left hand, preventing my fingers from spreading. A bandage. “What’s going on?”

  Julian cut the engine, leaving us in the dark, and turned to me. “You fainted.” His ominous tone made my toes curl inside my boots.

  “I fainted? Why? And where have we been anyway?” I tried to go through the events of the day. Marie had taken me to the cemetery. I cleaned windows all afternoon. Albert tried to shoot me with an ancient pistol because I didn’t find any useful information about Julian’s employer. And a huge potato knocked me over.

  Okay, something was seriously wrong with my head.

  “You burned your hand with boiling water when you helped Marie in the kitchen. Don’t you remember?”

  No. And what was with that testing edge to his voice?

  I shook my head. The fog in my mind irritated me no end. It seemed an entire chapter of today had gone astray.

  “I drove you to the local clinic to get your hand examined,” he suggested.

  I shook my head again, nothing of what he said made sense.

  “They applied antibacterial ointment and bandaged your wounds. You need to leave this gauze on for the next forty-eight hours. Then your skin should be fine again. They said there shouldn’t be any scarring.”

  “Ah, okay.” If my hand was burned so badly, I probably wouldn’t want to see it anyway. “And when exactly did I pass out?”

  “You collapsed on the way home. Aftermath of the shock most likely.” He pulled the key from the ignition and grabbed a dish towel that lay in a bundle on the middle console. What this rag was doing in the car was, like the rest of his story, a riddle to me.

  “It’s normal that you don’t remember what happened during the hours before you passed out.” Julian grimaced. “The missing information might never return.”

  The resoluteness in his tone was hard to understand. I followed him when he climbed out of the car.

  He waited for me at the entrance to the house. “They gave you some medication, so at least you shouldn’t feel any pain.”

  He was right. My hand felt totally normal. Just the pull of the bandage annoyed me a little bit. It might have been easier to accept the gauze if my skin hurt, but then I was better off with feeling nothing, of course.

  Julian unlocked the front door, pushed it open, and let me enter first. My entire family, all three members, stormed toward me as soon as we crossed the threshold. Gathered around me, Marie and Albert took turns at shooting questions. “Are you all right? Is your hand all right? What did the doctors say?” It was touching how much everyone cared.

  But one person looked the most worried of all. My mother stood next to her sister, not daring to touch me like Marie did, but her terrified eyes captured me from three feet away.

  The vague memory of her and Julian entering the kitchen this afternoon swam in my mind. I also recalled she’d been seeing a doctor today. Strange how I could gaze at her face and for once felt no hatred.

  The cemetery.

  Images of her name carved into white marble danced up and lanced my heart. I shoved the disturbing thought aside and focused on her pale face again. Looking like shit, she shouldn’t be up. But like my aunt and uncle, she’d been staying awake to await my return. In a way I was grateful.

  “I’m fine,” I said before turning away from her. “But as it seems, I fell over unconscious. Julian can fill you in on the details. If you don’t mind, I’d rather go to bed now.”

  Everyone stepped aside to let me ascend the stairs. Julian’s words, when he retold the story I’d heard a few minutes ago, chased me upstairs. It still felt like he was talking about someone else.

  *

  The blanket wrapped around my shoulders kept me warm while sitting on the threshold of the open French door in the late night hours. On my last check, it had been eleven fifteen. The nagging feeling of having lost a however small part of the day left me anxious for a chat with Julian. But he hadn’t come upstairs yet.

  My hand itched underneath the bandage. Since I felt no pain at all, I played with the thought of taking the white muslin off in spite of the doctor’s warning. But never being a real fan of blood or wounds, I restrained and decided to go looking for Julian instead.

  My tailbone hurt from sitting on the floor for so long. Rubbing my bum with one hand, I tossed the blanket onto the bed and sneaked out into the dark hallway. No sounds drifted from the ground floor. Most likely everyone had gone to bed already. Why hadn’t Julian?

  On my tiptoes, I took the flight of stairs, sliding my hand on the rail. I turned left to peek into the parlor. It was dark and empty, and so was the kitchen. The door to Albert’s study was closed, no light shone underneath. My trip down here had been in vain.

  Then the sudden sound of Julian speaking made me spin on my heel, kick-starting my heart into high gear. Of course. I slapped my brow. Where else would he be than in my mother’s room?

  I drew closer, staying to the side and away from the door in case one of them came out. Unlike the last times when I accidentally eavesdropped on their conversations, this time I deliberately chose to stay and listen. If Julian spoke to her about my misfortune today, it was my bloody right to hear it.

  And then there was the slight chance he would talk to her about his little secrets…his dual life. I might have forgotten part of today, but last night’s conversation with him rang in my ears clear as Christmas bells. He wouldn’t get away with there’s nothing we need to talk about.

  “I had no choice.” Self-reproach pealed in Julian’s tone.

  “You did the right thing,” my mother said, farther away than him.

  “Then why does it feel so wrong to push her away every time she brings it up?” And with she he meant me, right? Ooh, it seemed I’d jumped in at the perfect moment.

  “Julian.” Charlene paused, maybe for a sigh. “I know how you feel about Jona. But you of all people must understand that there is no chance for a future together.”

  Wait. Who was talking about a future together? Was that what Julian aimed at? My insides warmed. I leaned back against the wall.

  “She’s suffered so much already,” my mother continued. “And now…don’t look at me like that. I’m well aware that most of it was my fault. But don’t you see that you’ll break her if you bind her? You know you cannot stay.”

  I didn’t have the slightest clue where he might have to go, but it squeezed my heart to think of not being able to see Julian every day. Why did she think he couldn’t stay in France?

  “Maybe I can.”

  “What do you mean you can?”

  “I mean, there is a way. But she’s not ready to accept it yet. It’ll take time to make her understand.” Julian’s voice changed from low to loud in short intervals as his footsteps approached the door then faded away.

  “Is that why you’re reluctant to help me all of a sudden? Are you playing for time?”

  A hard thud on the door made me jump. Julian must have slumped with his back against it. His voice was extremely close, too, when he said, “Is that so wrong? What are a few more days? A couple more weeks.”

  What kind of game was he playing? I didn’t understand what he expected to happen in that time. And most of all, I didn’t understand why my mother needed him to help her.

  “Would you please look at me, Julian? My time is up. It’s been up for a while now. You can’t keep
this charade going forever. As much as I wish it was different, as much as I long to watch Jona becoming a grown woman, I feel I have to go.”

  She was dying. I heard the resolution in her tone.

  Hands clapped over my mouth and nose, I struggled to breathe. My mother expected her death. She faced it so calmly. Why in the world would this shock me now, after hating this woman for most of my life? My chest shouldn’t be aching the way it did.

  And then there was the part Julian played in this game. Was he the one responsible for her still being alive when she knew better? My heart and throat constricted with fright. I couldn’t stop the cold shiver running over my body.

  “And my daughter must be happy again. If you refuse to leave her alone, I’ll put a stop to it. I won’t let you carry on with your care for me.”

  “You asked for help, Charlene. And here I am. Now do not interfere with my plans.”

  “Your interest has changed. That revokes my deal with your boss.” My mother’s voice toned down a notch, growing almost humble. “Does he know about your plans anyway?”

  Julian’s exhausted laugh grew fainter as he walked away from the door. “Do you honestly think there is one tiny thing in this world he doesn’t know about? In fact, I had no idea there was a possibility for me to stay until he told me a short while ago.”

  “But this is wrong,” Charlene exclaimed. “You don’t belong here.”

  “Love can never be wrong. And this is what both of you have to learn.”

  The intense serenity of Julian’s lecture and the softness of his tone invaded me like hot chocolate running down my throat on a cold winter’s day.

  “Love can be wrong, if it’s going to be taken away in the end.” My mother spoke in a suppressed way, yet the anger and frustration was clearly audible. “I want the best for Jona. And if this means I have to die without finding forgiveness first, then I’ll pay this price.”

  Swallowing hard, I tried to recap. They had a deal. With me as their focus. And Julian kept my mother alive against nature.