Runaway Heart (A Game of Hearts #2)

by Sonya Loveday

  It was a dark cloud I couldn’t escape. An injustice I felt I could never properly remedy. Because there would always be an “other” night. There’d always be a victim to someone’s abuse. A person in the world without the help they needed to get away.

  And the anger inside me felt as dangerous as an exposed wire. Felt like a tumor I couldn’t get rid of.

  “How is she?” I asked, biting the side of my lip. Wishing I was more like Della. More proactive when it came to putting an end to the violence when I could.

  “Why don’t ye come in and see her for yourself?” Della said with a warm, inviting grin.

  We followed her up the cobble pathway to the grand front door, and then through the foyer sprinkled with dated paintings of faces and landscapes that gave an otherworld feeling to the home.

  “Your house is so beautiful,” I remarked, unable to process my thoughts. This was like a home out of a magazine or a movie. Not a place I’d thought I’d ever have the pleasure of viewing. “I could only dream of living someplace like this. But then again, decorating and me go about as well together as dogs and cats.”

  “Thank you, deary,” she said with a small laugh as we passed through kitchen. “But achieving the details come with time. Sort of like a relationship. Ye have to commit to it. Put the work in to bring out the true beauty.”

  “A relationship,” I repeated to myself as she guided us down a long, wide hall, and then directed us into a library.

  There she was, sitting in the far corner, nestled in a small reading nook.

  The moment we entered the room, she closed her book and was on her feet, the bruise on her face having turned a deep mustard yellow and eggplant purple color.

  “Hi,” she said, meeting us across the room.

  “How are you?” My nerves felt like guitar strings being plucked.

  “Better,” she said with a small shrug.

  “Why don’t ye have a seat, and you and Annabel can get to know one another?” Della said, pointing to the wing-backed, purple suede couch.

  I followed Annabel’s lead and took a seat.

  “I made biscuits and tea. Ed, be a good lad and come help me.”

  He smiled at her. “Sure.”

  And then they were gone.

  “So,” I said, turning back to Annabel. “You look worlds better.”

  “I feel it,” she said with a sincere smile. “Della is amazing. This place…” She died off, looking around the room. “This is the place a person like me needs to find in order to pick up the pieces.”

  “You really believe that?” I asked. Not in a condescending way, but in an honest, inquisitive way.

  She nodded. “I do. He won’t find me here. And it’s so quiet. So peaceful. And Della… she has a way with her words. A way that sort of explains everything without saying much. It’s been two days since I’ve seen Robert and, in that time, I begun to realize he was the crutch. Not me.”

  I laid a hand on hers. “I’m so glad to hear that.” I wished my mother could hear this. Wished she could have the courage this woman did.

  Wished she could meet Della.

  “Here we are,” Della said as she and Ed entered the room carrying trays filled with delicious smells. “Do you prefer sugar, cream, or lemon for your tea?” Della asked me as she poured the warm broth into a small, floral-patterned cup.

  “Lemon, please,” I said, taking the cup from her a second later.

  “Annabel?”

  “I’m good. But thank ye, Della,” she said, grinning at her.

  “How about you, Ed? Still take lemon and sugar?”

  “The best of both worlds,” he crooned, taking a seat in the chair across from us.

  We sat like that for a while, talking about many different things. About life. About love. About Ed as a child. And when the biscuits were gone and the tea was cold, Della sent Ed off to collect his jacket and asked me if I wanted to take a walk with her while Annabel went to rest.

  I agreed of course, feeling more at home than I think I’d ever felt in my life.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Ed so smitten. Not even with that ghastly Monica girl he fancied himself in love with,” Della said as she led me away from the house toward the greenhouse out back.

  “He’s really great,” I admitted, feeling that sinking feeling again.

  She paused, gathering her thoughts. “The two of ye remind me of Elliot and me when we first met,” she said as we took a seat on a bench inside the greenhouse.

  “How so?” I asked, tucking my hands under my legs.

  “He found me at my worst and, despite it all, he still fell in love with me.” She closed her eyes, turning her face toward the sunlight filtering in through the floor-to-ceiling windows. “When someone can see ye at your worst, and still want all of ye… that’s not something to pass up on.”

  Ed saw me at my worst. Watched me unravel like a ball of yarn as I faced my demons with only a handful of tears to defend myself. And, yet, he still wanted me. Still pulled me in as if I were the only air he could breathe.

  It was as if he had always belonged by my side, and that was a thought I knew I shouldn’t be thinking.

  “What do you mean by your worst?” I asked, wanting to steer the conversation away from Ed and how wonderful he was. Away from the feelings I felt for him that began with the word in and ended with the word love.

  “I’m sure Ed has mentioned it to ye, but I was married before Elliot. Married to the very devil himself. His name was Amos, and he had a heavy hand.

  “I was seventeen when we first married. Too young to know if it was real or not. Or, maybe I was too eager to get out from under my parents. We made a life for ourselves. Bought a tiny cottage shortly after Amos made his first small business investment. Everything was good until he started taking long business trips.

  “I knew he was cheating. I let it slide for a while, until one day I had enough. That was the first time he struck me. It took me quite by surprise and I lost my footing, fell backward over a dining room chair, and ended up with a broken collarbone.” Her hand went to the spot, rubbing a wound that healed long ago, but time would always remember.

  “Why didn’t you leave?” I asked, thinking about all the times my mother had been struck and how she’d stay.

  “At first?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at me as she clasped her hands. The corner of her eyes crinkled together as she looked deep into mine. “I tripped. Yes, he’d shoved me, but I’d pushed him too. Not physically, mind. I used the only weapon I had. My anger. I railed at him, wanting answers. Demanding he keep the vows he made to me. He shouted back, not wanting to hear about his affairs spoken at him so coldly. I wanted to be heard. Wanted to be cherished. In the end, we were an explosion of shattered trust. Broken promises. I raged and he… well, he snapped.

  “After that, he apologized. He even cried. I held him through it. Marriage is seldom easy, and I thought we’d maybe just hit one of those bumps in the road.” She made a slight noise, a humming in her throat before continuing, “After my injury healed and everything settled, or so I’d thought, he went from doting husband to a raging maniac. He’d gotten away with it once, you see. And I allowed him to continue getting away with it.

  “I learned the hard way that abusive people will do and say whatever they need to you each and every time. It’s a sickness, really. And the victim isn’t the only one who suffers. The family and friends around ye, watching ye go through it, they take each hit with ye too.”

  I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak through the past blocking my throat with all the memories I wished I could scrub from my mind.

  “But to answer your question, in the end, I realized I only stayed out of loyalty. When we speak those vows, they’re meant to be sacred. They bond ye to another,” she said, staring off into the field of potted flowers. “It’s not easy when ye love the person who’s hurting ye. Even amongst the bad that had come, there were still those moments when it was just him and me, and there
wasn’t hurt or anger there, and those moments are what I clutched onto when he’d take a fist to me.

  “It wasn’t until he went after my sister that I realized it had to stop. That he was never going to be the man I thought I married.”

  Gallons of acid slid through my veins.

  “I just don’t understand it. Why do men flip like that? Why do they build you up, only to tear you back down? My father did that to my mother. Still does it,” I said, my eyes beginning to sear.

  She grabbed my hand and held it, clutching it tightly. “Not all men do that, love. My Amos. Your father. They are just one side of the coin. They are the lemon hearts. The ones who are too sour to love.”

  “And the other side?” I asked, seeing Ed’s face in my mind.

  She smiled knowingly at me. “I think ye’ve recently seen the other side,” she said, patting my hand.

  She was right. Ed was the other side. No matter how hard I tried to fight it, I knew he was pure. Good. Too good for me. And just like him, I didn’t know how I was going to leave him. How I was ever going to be straight again.

  Della and I sat there for a little while longer as she explained how she overcame Amos and created the Battered Women Foundation with the help of her family and Elliot. She told me about the many women like Annabel who had come and gone, and how she checked in on them from time to time to make sure they were still going strong.

  “We don’t let them leave thinking they’re on their own again. We’re a family here, my staff and I, and every soul that walks through that door is a new member. Including you,” she said, looking directly at me.

  I stuck my hand to the air as ribbons of wind passed through my fingers. “If only you were closer. I wish my mother could come here, but even if I found a way, I know she wouldn’t leave my father.”

  “Strength happens when ye least expect it. Don’t give up on her just yet,” Della said, standing as we spotted Ed heading our way. “Life gives us these chances. Makes us less of a victim and more of a voice. I try to instill that with those who come to me, or me to them. I think ye know that already though. You’re a survivor. A fighter. Ye don’t step down and cower. I see that in ye and, one day, ye’ll understand what that means. We could use someone like yourself around here. Someone who understands abuse. Someone who can teach the form of strength ye have.”

  “I’m not strong,” I admitted, thinking about how I left my mother behind.

  “I beg to differ,” Della said. “Ye’re the strongest broken soul I’ve seen come through here. And ye could help these women get back on their feet.”

  I wasn’t sure why, but the offer made me feel warm inside. Made me wish even more that I didn’t have to leave.

  The sound of footsteps announced Ed as he made his way to where we sat.

  Della stood, a beaming smile on her face when Ed caught sight of us and waved.

  “I’m not interrupting, am I?” he asked, hands tucked neatly in his pockets as he came to a stop beside Della.

  “Not a bit. Hannah and I were just about to head back in,” she said, wrapping her arm around him, giving him a slight squeeze. “I’ve missed you, lad. You won’t stay away so long next time?”

  Ed hugged her back, pecking a kiss to her hair. “I won’t. I promise.”

  “Such a good lad. We missed your terrible jokes around the table last Christmas.” She dropped her arm from around him and patted his cheek.

  He shook his head, smiling. “And who is it, ye suppose, I get that from?”

  She laughed. Her eyes twinkled as she tugged his sleeve. “To be sure, lad. So are ye off then?”

  “I am, sorry. It’s just that—”

  Della waved his excuse away with a smile and gave him another hug as I stood. “I’m glad ye both came by. Be sure to get your jacket from the closet, else ye’ll freeze.”

  “I’m so glad to have met ye, Hannah,” she said, stepping closer and clasping my hands in hers.

  “Thank you for showing me your home, and for sharing your story with me,” I replied, feeling a moment of sadness to have to say goodbye to her as quickly as we’d said hello.

  “Take care of this one.” A knowing look lit her face as she let my hands go.

  I smiled at Ed. “I’ll try.”

  “Are ye ready?” Ed asked as he slid his arm around my waist. “Charlie just rang. Said the girls are getting antsy waiting on us.”

  “YE’RE AWFULLY QUIET,” I SAID, picking Hannah’s hand up and lacing my fingers with hers. There wasn’t a moment I wanted to spend separated from her touch.

  She turned her face, looking up at me with a distant gaze. “Just thinking.”

  Before I could ask her what she was thinking about, she closed her eyes and nestled her head into my shoulder. The taxi rolled down the road, bumping and swaying as she stayed quietly tucked to my side, leaving me more than curious as to what her and Aunt Della had talked about.

  I’d hoped Aunt Della would see it in her. The look of a soul searching for answers. Reasons. I wouldn’t know unless Hannah opened up to me, because Aunt Della would never say. Even if I called and asked her.

  That was the thing about Aunt Della—conversations were private. Trust was given, and not lightly, when she spoke to another. And I had a feeling whatever they talked about was what held court over Hannah’s mind as she held on to me, anchoring us both in a moment only she understood.

  The cab slowed as it made its way down the narrow streets outside the pub I’d told Charlie we’d meet them at.

  There were only a few more days we’d get to spend together. Only a few more chances I could show her what she meant to me. Time. I needed more time. A lifetime wouldn’t be enough to spend with Hannah.

  Where had it all come from? Where had it started? At first glance? The way her eyes darted between Maggie and me when I’d arrived in Rum Cay? Or maybe the night she’d bowled me over in my hammock and we’d touched for the first time? I couldn’t pinpoint it. Did I really want to?

  It just was. She just was. We were meant for more. Not a chance meeting here and there where our touch sent each other into a frenzy. It was more than that. Deeper than that. My heart literally ached thinking about her boarding a plane without me.

  “There’s Cherry,” Hannah said, sitting up and collecting herself.

  I pushed all of it away. Needed to live in each and every moment with her and soak them up, saving them for when she wasn’t near.

  “Hungry?” I asked, helping her from the cab.

  “I could go for some fish and chips.” A half smile curled the corner of her lip as she allowed me to take her hand.

  “Hannah, you missed the double-decker tour bus!” Charlotte said, linking her arm through Hannah’s. Severing our connection when she pulled her away. Her wild hand gestures and endless chatter blended together for me. But Hannah nodded, smiled, and answered, even when her eyes kept darting to mine.

  “You left me to the mercy of three women in London,” Charlie said, coming to stand beside me.

  “Looks like it turned out all right.” I gave him a smile I really had to reach for.

  “I looked like Father Finnegan with a roving hoard of wayward souls. Do you know how many shops there are ‘round here? Twenty-six. Twenty-bloody-six, and we stopped in all of them. If you leave me tomorrow to deal with this lot, I’ll gut you in your sleep.” Charlie gave me a hardened stare that did little to rattle me.

  I slapped him on the back. “Come on, mate. I’ll buy you a pint.”

  He gave me a dirty look.

  “Two?” I upped the offer.

  “Make it three and I might think about forgiving you,” Charlie grumbled, pushing past me.

  HANNAH’S FINAL DAY IN LONDON came along no matter how much I didn’t want it to. I sat on the end of the bed watching her pack with a sense of dread that sat in my stomach like a lead weight.

  “You could stay…” I blurted without even thinking about saying it.

  She halted in the middle of the ro
om, clutching her makeup kit to her chest. Her eyes went wide as her mouth opened and closed a few times before pulling herself back together. “It’s not that simple, Ed.”

  I came off the bed, detecting the slightest hint of wavering. “I want ye here with me. I know that’s really unfair to say to ye now, but I don’t know how else to say it. I just know I can’t watch ye walk away again and not try.”

  The color in her cheeks deepened as she exhaled a shaky breath. “We’ve really done a number on each other by allowing this to happen.” She flung the statement across the room, almost like a scolding.

  I moved to stand in front of her. “Was there any other way for us? I feel it… here,” I said, tapping my chest. “Can ye deny the same feeling?”

  A mask of pain slid over her face as tears pooled in her eyes. When the first one fell, she dashed it away with fingers that shook. “You don’t understand, Ed. I can feel it… all of it. It’s eating me alive with what I’ve allowed myself to feel for you. Now… now I feel like… like I’ve messed up. Big time. I’ve been careless.”

  “Hannah,” I said, cupping her face with my palm, “I know ye’re scared. I know this isn’t easy for ye. It’s unsettling. I get it. Please don’t push me away. I want ye. So much. I want your happiness and your mood swings, and, God, your way of making the room light up just because ye’re in it. Ye’re everything to me.”

  Her hands covered her face as she let out a small noise with her chin to her chest. She mumbled something I couldn’t make out between her fingers. I leaned in, trying to hear what she was saying, and then realized she was hiding.

  From me.

  She hid her tears as she said, “I’m broken, Ed, and I can’t give all my broken pieces to you and expect you to keep me glued together. That’s not fair to ask of you. I need time.” Her tears soaked through my shirt as I pulled her into my chest, her sobs rocking the foundation of our souls.

  “Time,” I repeated, wondering if time meant the same thing to her as it did to me. Could I let her walk away hoping she’d overcome her demons? Would time be enough for her to realize she loved me just as much as I loved her? Or would it mute everything for her? Allow what we’d only touched the surface of never to get the chance to grow and surround us?