A simple enough thing to do.
But in doing so, he’d left the woman he loved in hell.
He didn’t know it then.
But he knew it now, from what he’d learned through her and through Mikey.
He just didn’t understand it.
Until he read her journals.
Now he understood it.
And it killed him.
Chapter Sixteen
The Day Elle Austin Awoke
Fiona
The next day, Elle Austin awoke.
Fiona watched it.
And, when it happened, Fiona smiled.
* * * * *
Elle
Elle woke to the bed bouncing.
She had no time to think of the night before.
She had no time to think of one word of the life changing conversation she’d shared with Prentice.
She had no time to think even of the strange sense of disquiet she felt when Prentice led her from the balcony into his room, tenderly disrobed her, tugged one of his t-shirts over her head and put her to bed. It was a disquiet she couldn’t put her finger on but it felt like someone she cared about was in pain.
She had no time to think of any of this because Sally, who was on her knees at the foot of the bed, shouted, “Good morning!”
Prentice’s fingers unlaced from hers and they both got up on an elbow to look to the foot of the bed.
Then Prentice rolled to his back, his arm pushing under Elle as he did so, turning her so her front was to his side, his arm tight, fastening her there.
“Come here, baby,” Prentice murmured to his daughter, his voice deeper with residual sleep and Elle decided she liked his just woken up voice.
She liked it a lot.
Sally didn’t hesitate; she crawled up Prentice’s body.
Elle decided she liked that too, watching Sally crawl up her father’s long body.
She liked it a lot.
As Sally collapsed on Prentice’s chest, her eyes never left Elle and she announced, “Me and Jace have made you muffins!”
Fear shot through Elle at the very thought of Sally and Jason operating the oven.
“You what?” she whispered.
Prentice’s voice was a great deal more effective when he asked, low and vibrating, “I’m sorry?”
“We didn’t cook them.” They heard from across the room and all the inhabitants of the bed looked to the door.
Jason was standing there, his stance awkward, his expression showing, quite clearly, he didn’t know what to make of the goings-on in the bed.
Elle’s body went tight.
And when it did, so did Prentice’s arm.
“We just made them and put the batter in the tin. We thought Elle could cook them,” Jason gamely continued, still obviously uncomfortable.
It was then it hit her that Jason called her Elle. Not only then but he and Sally had been doing it for days. Even in front of Prentice, who never corrected them.
She felt something relax deep inside her, something that had been coiled tight for so long she didn’t know it could relax.
But it did.
“I’ll cook them,” Prentice offered, completely unaware of the momentous event that happened someplace deep inside Elle. “How’d you make them, Jace?”
Jason looked to the floor, shuffled his feet and mumbled, “One of Mum’s cookbooks.” He took in a deep breath and looked at the wall. “Mum never made them though.” His eyes skittered to the bed then to the opposite wall before he finished, “They’re blueberry. We used the leftovers.”
Elle’s heart went out to him and she wanted to say something, she just had no clue what to say.
Sally, on the other hand, never had any problem knowing what to say.
“Jace decided that we should make Elle breakfast to pay her back, since she’s always making us breakfast.” Sally grinned at her father. “We had fun.”
Elle wondered briefly what Sally’s version of fun did to the kitchen.
Then she looked to Jason and said softly, “Thank you, honey.”
Jason didn’t reply. He looked like he was willing himself to spontaneously combust.
Then he muttered, “I’ll just go and –”
Prentice cut him off by calling, “Hey mate, I’ve a question for you.”
Jason eyes hesitantly went to his father.
Prentice kept talking. “What do you think, is Elle ticklish or no’?”
Elle’s body went tight again as Prentice’s arm locked around her and Sally’s head snapped to the side to look at her.
Elle tried to jerk away, saying warningly, “Pren –”
“Aye!” Sally squealed. “I think she is!”
Then Sally pounced.
Prentice turned to Elle. As Sally wriggled and writhed, trying to get to Elle’s ticklish spots with her fast-moving, little girl fingers, Prentice held her against him with one arm and tickled her with his free hand.
Relentlessly.
But then Prentice knew where her ticklish spots were already.
Giggling so helplessly she could barely move, she managed to turn her back to Prentice but he kept her close and continued tickling her. Finally getting control of Sally’s squirming body and tickling hands, Elle pinned Sally’s back to her front and returned the favor, giggling as she tickled Sally while the little girl laughed herself silly.
They all stopped when the bed bounced and they looked at its foot. Jason was sprawled on his side, his eyes were dancing and a smirk was on his lips.
“I’d say she’s ticklish,” Jason muttered dryly.
Elle heard Prentice chuckle.
Elle and Sally didn’t laugh, they both just smiled at Jason.
“All right, everybody up. It’s muffin time,” Prentice ordered.
Sally scattered and Jason rolled off the bed.
Elle stayed where she was, mainly because she wasn’t wearing any underwear.
Prentice also remained in bed and it was highly likely this was because he wasn’t wearing anything.
“Jace, shut the door. We’ll be down in a minute,” Prentice called.
“Aye,” Jason replied.
Sally turned at the door and asked, “Can we switch on the oven?”
“No,” both Prentice and Elle replied.
Sally made a face, looked at her brother and trotted out the door.
Jason’s eyes took in Prentice and Elle, he looked to the floor and left, shutting the door behind him.
Prentice instantly rolled into Elle, taking her in his arms.
Elle tried to push away.
She failed.
“We need to get downstairs,” she informed him.
“Aye,” he replied softly, his eyes roaming her face. “But I need to kiss you first.”
“Pren –” she began but was cut off when he did what he said he needed to do.
She found, in short order, she needed it too.
Prentice was a good kisser. She hadn’t had many kisses but she still felt she could say with some authority, he was the best.
She was dazed when his mouth broke from hers.
His hand went to her jaw, his thumb running along her cheekbone.
“I forgot how ticklish you were.” He was still speaking in that soft voice, the voice that did funny things to her.
Concentrating on the funny things and how nice they made her feel, Elle didn’t reply.
“I used to tickle you all the time.” He grinned and continued, “When we weren’t fighting.” She watched as his grin faded but warmth hit his eyes when his thumb traced her lower lip while he watched. His gaze came back to hers and he murmured, “Do you remember?”
“I remember,” Elle whispered.
She remembered everything about him and the time they spent together.
Everything.
Considering he was close, Elle got lost in his every-colored eyes, counting the colors again, comparing the occurrences, fascinated by this activity even though she’d memorize
d the results.
His forehead touched hers, his hand at her jaw tensed and he growled, “I love it when you look at me like that. Always did.”
His growl slid through her like velvet.
Elle pressed into him.
His arm around her tightened but he sighed and lifted his head. “I need to cook muffins.”
He didn’t sound thrilled with this prospect.
“You do,” she replied, trying not to smile. Prentice started to roll, taking her with him when Elle locked her body, catching his attention and he stopped. “You also need to talk to Jace,” she said quietly.
Both his arms went around her and he gave her a squeeze, murmuring, “Aye.”
He pulled them from the bed, grabbed her panties from the floor, handed them to her and she slid them on while he put on his sweats. She was about to get her jeans when his hands came to her hips and he shuffled her to the door.
“I need to put on my jeans,” she told him, resisting and attempting to turn back into the room.
She failed at this too.
He reached in front of her and grasped the door handle, informing her, “You’re good.”
She was… good?
Was he mad?
She was in a t-shirt!
With effort, she turned to face him but he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her out of the door’s arc.
“I’m only wearing your t-shirt,” she reminded him unnecessarily as he could see she was only in his t-shirt.
“Aye,” he replied. “But you’re covered.”
She continued to resist as he forced her, hands again at her hips, through the door.
“Prentice! I’m in a t-shirt! I can’t eat breakfast with your children in a t-shirt!” she hissed.
“Why no’?” he asked casually.
She stared at him in disbelief as he shuffled her down the hall.
He caught sight of her face, stopped before they turned to the stairs and said, “It comes down to your thighs, baby. You’re far more covered than you were in your nightie when you made pancakes that first time.”
“I wasn’t just in a nightie. I was also wearing a robe,” she replied impatiently.
He grinned and his face got close as his hands slid down over her behind and pulled her hips to him. “That robe didn’t cover fuck all.”
“It certainly did!” she snapped.
His grin turned devilish. “Trust me. It did no’.”
She ignored how attractive his devilish grin was and this was hard to do, considering she hadn’t seen it in twenty years and she remembered how she particularly liked it. “It most certainly did.”
“Aye, I’ll admit, on the face of it, it did. If you have a creative imagination, which I do,” he said, his fingers tensing deliciously in the flesh of her backside. “It… did… no’.”
She was staggered.
“Are you saying…?”
“Aye.”
“Back then… when you…?”
“Aye.”
“You thought of me…?”
“Aye.”
He was growling again.
It felt like velvet again.
Regardless, Elle was stunned.
“But…” she whispered, “you hated me.”
All playfulness swept instantly from his face, his hands went to her waist and curled around, holding her close.
“I’ve never hated you, Elle.”
“But –”
“There were plenty of times I wanted to hate you, over the years and recently, but I could never do it.”
“But –”
“No’ ever.”
“Pren –”
He kissed her quiet.
He took his time and did this thoroughly.
When he lifted his head he repeated fiercely, “Baby. No’ ever.”
She felt tears hit her eyes and she whispered, “Really?”
He scanned her face and, for a second, she could swear, it looked like he was in pain.
He masked it before she could be sure and he whispered back, “Really.”
Something else wound up tight in her released and relaxed.
So did her body, right into his and he took her weight.
“Can I get my jeans?” she asked softly.
“No.”
Her body got tight again and she pulled slightly away, demanding, “Why not?”
Both his arms released her but only so both his hands could come to her jaw and tip her face up to his.
“Because last night you made a decision and now, today, you’re at home. When you’re at home you don’t have to dress to eat breakfast. When you’re at home you wear whatever-the-fuck you want to wear at breakfast.”
Last night she hadn’t made a decision.
He had.
And he hadn’t let her protest.
He was watching her as these thoughts went through her head and then he interrupted them.
“I can see this may take time to sink in for you,” he said then the devilish grin came back. “Luckily, I’m patient.”
He was not patient.
Or, at least, twenty years ago he wasn’t.
And evidence suggested he wasn’t now either.
“Pren –”
“Muffins.”
“Pren!”
He turned her around the corner that led to the stairs.
Sally saw them the minute they came into view and before Elle could form another protest, Sally shouted, “Hurrah! Now we can bake the muffins.”
Stymied.
With no choice, Elle went to the kitchen and sat on a stool in nothing but Prentice’s t-shirt, sipping coffee and surveying the chaos created by Jason and Sally making muffins.
They’d forgotten to grease the tins so they didn’t have full muffins, just the muffin tops that Jason and Prentice were able to pry from the tin.
Still, they weren’t half bad.
* * * * *
Fiona
Fiona knew it happened because Bella was tired.
She’d had a hectic day.
And Fiona had watched it all.
The tickling in bed (though she’d followed Jason when he left the room, worried about him after his reaction at seeing Bella and Prentice in his mother and father’s bed).
The conversation on the landing when Prentice (not letting any grass grow) set about righting the wrongs he’d inadvertently done Bella.
The disastrous muffin baking.
She also watched Bella clean the kitchen with Sally’s “help” which made the onerous task all the more onerous while Prentice went after Jason. During this, Fiona watched Bella bite her lip and fist her hands.
Fiona wanted to be with Jason and Prentice but Fiona knew her son. He was like his father. He felt deeply. But, in miraculously little time, he came to decisions and stuck by them, about people and events.
He knew his mind, Jason did, always had, even as a wee lad.
He might be confused but he’d sort it – with his father’s help.
Fiona was more worried about Bella.
She whispered words to soothe her friend as the time slid by while Prentice was upstairs with Jason.
Then, when this didn’t work, she shouted her soothing words.
Incredibly, this seemed to work and Bella began to focus more on Sally and making oatmeal cookies (and why they needed oatmeal cookies to add to the chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar, Fiona had no idea) and less on tearing her palms with her nails.
When Prentice and Jason appeared again, Bella whirled to the stairs and watched them descend.
Jason had Fiona’s guitar.
Bella went pale.
“Elle, will you show me more chords today?” Jason asked.
Bella’s eyes flew to Prentice and Prentice gave Bella a wink.
Bella (and Fiona, even though hers was unnecessary as she didn’t breathe) let out a sigh.
“Sure, Jace. I just need to take a shower,” Bella answered.
While Bella shower
ed, Fiona watched (and giggled) as Prentice moved her clothes into her new room.
Therefore, when she came out of the shower, she halted and stared at the underwear, jeans and jumper lying on the bed. An outfit she didn’t choose for herself.
She went to the wardrobe. Then she went to the drawers. Then she stared at the empty nightstand.
Then she pulled on her clothes in a tizzy and ran from the room.
She found Prentice walking out of the closet in Bella’s new room, her clothes from the drawers all over the still unmade bed.
She stood frozen.
Then she looked at him, eyes glassy, and mumbled, “Wha…?”
Prentice walked right up to her, cupped the back of her head in his hand and touched his lips to hers.
“Sort the drawers, will you, baby? I’m rubbish at that shit.”
Then he walked out as Bella gazed after him mutely.
Fiona giggled again.
Bella stood there a long time, staring at the bed.
She was still standing there after Prentice returned (twice), hands full of her things from the guest bathroom and he put them in her new bathroom.
His last trip, he got close, slid a hand along the small of her back and bent to her ear, “Baby. You need to sort it. Now. We’re going to the beach.”
She stared at him stupidly.
Then she repeated, “The beach?”
“Aye,” he looked at the bed, then at her, “or do you want to leave it until we get home?”
That woke her up and she shook her head wildly.
He grinned, gave her waist a squeeze and left the room.
Bella got busy and sorted the drawers. Then she made the bed. Then she went into the closet and sorted the mess Prentice had made of her hanging clothes.
Most of this time, Fiona giggled.
Bella and Sally packed a lunch and they went to the beach.
At the beach, Sally behaved like she always behaved even though Prentice took the children to the beach often both when Fiona was alive and after she died. In other words, like she’d been living in a cell her entire life and was only going to be let out for that one glorious day.
Bella kept up with her, as well as sat with Jason who’d brought along Fiona’s guitar and Fiona could say (with some pride) that she gave her son more than his hair, he was getting very good with the guitar and, the way he practiced (which was all the time, just like Fiona had) he was going to be great, and taught him some more chords.
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