Tears of Gold: Tears of Ink #3

by Bloom, Anna

  “I don’t think Adam was complaining about the underwear.” Eli’s blues flash with wickedness.

  “I do not want to know.” I shake my head in mock disgust. I have no doubt whatsoever I will hear all about it when I next speak to her.

  “How was your day?” His face drops to a serious expression, all deep eyes and straight lips. “And why are we talking pre-nups now?”

  “I spoke to my dad.” I shiver and not in the pleasurable way Eli created a few moments ago. “I want to make sure if anything happens to me, he can’t come near you or the kidney bean.”

  “Where exactly are you planning on going?”

  “Nowhere. I just want to make sure everything is sorted. I don’t trust him. I don’t like him, and I definitely don’t want him claiming some hold over our child.”

  “He hasn’t apologised for how he reacted when you told him?” Eli’s arms tighten around me. Maybe it should be weird we are naked in the attic, but I feel safe with him as always. Safer than ever before.

  “No. He said I was like my mum.”

  “You never mention her.” Gentle fingers brush a blonde strand of hair out of my eyes.

  “I don’t have anything to say. I don’t have any real memories of her. She was gone a long time ago.”

  “Have you never wanted to find her?”

  “No.” I shake my head, harder than I probably need. “The woman who left me? No. I don’t need to find her.”

  “You could ask her why she did.”

  “Dad said she was a slut. I guess that explains enough.”

  “Let me guess, he branded you the same.”

  I meet his gaze, hating the torture I see in their depths. “It doesn’t matter.” I smile. “Now, shall we get dressed to talk business or are you happy with me discussing one of your lawyer friends while bare-skinned and with you between my legs.”

  Eli scrunches his face. “Clothes. I think clothes are best.”

  I chuckle and let him climb off me, watching as he pulls on his boxers and shirt. “Tell me, do you always plan to have sex while wearing socks?”

  He grins and it’s devilish. “If that’s what you prefer.”

  Downstairs in the kitchen I manage to eat some chicken soup. It’s hot and nourishing and even I’m surprised when I dive in for a second bowl. “What are you smirking at?” I lift my eyes from the bowl and find Eli watching.

  “I’m trying to imagine what you will look like when the baby is showing.”

  “There is going to be a lot of stretched ink.” I can’t even think about it. It’s best not to. “How’s your new tattoo? Not too sore?”

  He shakes his head. “Nothing, you are too talented. It hasn’t hurt at all.”

  I ‘Hmph’ into my soup. “Maybe I should give up chasing the art dream and just tattoo full-time?”

  “Give up the art dream? And you painted that upstairs this afternoon? Is your baby brain starting already?”

  “No, senior partner, it hasn’t.” I swallow another mouthful of soup and then push the plate away. My stomach is almost screaming at me for putting too much in after days of being almost empty.

  “I don’t even know if I’m going to take that yet.”

  “Why wouldn’t you?”

  He shrugs and I recall the reason for the first tattoo I placed on his shoulder. The battle that thrives inside him. Artist and lawyer. The two sides of Eli. “You’ll make the right choice, I’m sure.”

  “Well it’s something we need to discuss, together.”

  “Why?” I shrug.

  “Because you’re going to be my wife. All decisions should be joint.

  He has a point.

  “Anyway, so after my awful call with that useless waste of space I used to call Dad, I was thinking. We need to get Fitzpatrick or whatever his name is around. If I’m going to be slandered, I want to make sure we can fight it.

  “Why do you think you will be slandered?”

  “Eli.” I level him with a hard stare. “My own dad thinks I’m a slut who slept with my stepbrother for enjoyment. What other lies will Aiden have spread?”

  “It doesn’t matter. The police will take statements from the relevant people.”

  “Won’t witnesses be brought to the stand to defend him?” I wish I knew more, but at the same time I can’t stand talking about it. I’m torn.

  Eli shrugs. “It depends what the initial investigation finds. They might not find enough to bring it to trial. These things aren’t clean cut at all.”

  “So after all of this he might still go free?”

  “Not free, Faith. I don’t know because you won’t talk to me about what exactly happened. I would imagine he will be on a sex offenders register.”

  “That’s not enough.”

  “I know, but you won’t let me fight for you.”

  I am never going to be free of this. The shackles of the past wrap around my ankles, holding me down, making my future feel a distant dream. “I can’t marry you with this hanging between us.”

  “It’s not hanging between us, Faith.”

  It is though. I know it.

  “Can you arrange for Fitzpatrick to meet me? Maybe I should go to Brighton with him and discover what’s going on. I can’t sit here waiting for someone to call.”

  He smiles slowly and it’s breathtaking. “I’ve been waiting weeks for you to decide to fight.”

  My hand falls to my stomach. “I guess I’ve got something to fight for now.” Resolution runs through me. “And I won’t be like my mother. I’ll never leave.”

  Eli’s gaze flickers but his eyes hold mine. “I won’t let you.”

  Twenty

  Somehow, I’ve managed to get through a week of lectures. It’s been hard, and I’ve been asleep by the time Eli gets home most days. I just wake in the night and feel his breath flutter against my skin and his arms tighten around my waist.

  I’m glad it’s Friday. Tomorrow I can lie in bed all day and not give a shit about anything. Although the sanctuary of Saturday seems far away when I know what the rest of today brings.

  “You okay, Faith?” Gerard falls into step by my side.

  “I’m fine.” I smile but I know it’s forced and fake. “Just a lot going on, you know?”

  “How is planning the wedding of the year going?” he snickers, but I can think of nothing funny.

  “It’s not. We went to Bowsley, Eli rowed with his mother, and nothing is organised. We still don’t even have a date.”

  The lack of a date is the least of my worries.

  “Angela said you didn’t make your meeting last week?” Gerard’s forehead wrinkles into a frown. “You aren’t changing your mind are you, Faith?”

  “No! I’m not, I promise.” I don’t want to tell him about the changes in my life, so I decide to change the subject. “Have you reached out to Jeremy at all?”

  His expression is pure derision. “Oh yes. Hey, once I had an affair with the man who later became your husband, but then I decided I wasn’t gay at all and got married which also turned out to be a mistake.”

  I chuckle, my head shaking. “Well I don’t think you need to put it quite like that.”

  Gerard relaxes. “I haven’t. Peter was my friend for a long time, Faith, but I don’t know how to go about the secrets he kept.”

  “Maybe you could try?”

  His hand runs through his hair. “Maybe I will try if you try to create something to sell.”

  “I’m trying.” I hesitate for a split-second. Oh, what the hell. “I painted yesterday.”

  Gerard raises a ginger eyebrow. “More painting?”

  I shrug and investigate the random marks on the ceiling above our heads. “I guess that’s what I’m feeling right now.”

  “Wanna show me?”

  “It’s in the studio at home. I’m out later but would you like to come over tomorrow? I think we have Sienna coming over?”

  He shakes his head. “Look at you, new home, posh friends who you once couldn’t
stand to be in the same room as. Dinner parties… what you have become is a far cry from the angry young woman who told me she deserved a place on my Fine Art degree because she could make shit.”

  I laugh loudly making passers-by turn in our direction. “I did not say that.”

  “Oh, but you did.”

  “We shall agree to disagree on that one.” I smile at him with genuine warmth. Finding out he had lied to me back in the beginning of the summer seems a long time ago. Too much has happened since then; too many lies, too much heartbreak and grief. “I’ve got to go, but come tomorrow?”

  “Where are you going now?”

  “To see my lawyer.” I force myself to keep smiling.

  “That is no way to talk about Elijah.”

  “Not him.” I blow out a puff of air. “Not him.”

  I turn on my heel and walk for the exit and the gates. Time to get my big girl pants on and start dealing once and for all.

  I’m not expecting Eli to be at the house, but then maybe I’m just in denial. Of course, he is going to be there. When my eyes find his in the sitting room as he sits and rifles through the paperwork on his lap, he gives me a helpless smile. I know. He wants to help. Wants to protect me. Set me free.

  The other man in the room is not what I was expecting at all. Older with greying hair and a middle-age spread, he looks more the fatherly type than the 'put the asshole down' type. And Eli wants me to tell this guy everything? Is he mad?

  “Faith.” Eli puts the papers down and gets up, kissing me on the cheek, his hand just briefly brushing over my tummy. Shivers of delight wash through me.

  Remember what you are fighting for.

  “This is Reggie Fitzpatrick.”

  “Reggie?” I somehow manage to control my snort of laughter. “Hi.” I wipe my hand on my jeans and smooth down the deep green silk shirt Saskia picked for me.

  “Faith, Eli has been filling me in on your case. It seems there's a lack of information coming from the police? Is that right?”

  “Uh.” Okay so we are going straight into this then, no cup of tea, or slice of cake to break the ice. “Well, my liaison officer called me the other day and just said the investigation was still ongoing.”

  “They will be looking for witnesses that can either support your claim or dispute it.”

  My mouth dries, my tongue determined to stick to the roof of my mouth.

  “Dispute it?”

  “Well, yes.” Reggie (sorry but I won’t get used to that) meets my gaze earnestly. “You are talking about a man’s life. Contrary to popular belief, a police investigation isn’t a witch hunt.”

  “Are you saying I’m lying?”

  Reggie grins widely. “No, but others will.”

  “And you are happy about it because?” Is this guy for real? I look at Eli in bewilderment, but he looks as lost as me.

  “If you are honest. Truthful. You have nothing to fear.”

  “Right.”

  “So, if you are okay, then maybe we can start at the beginning.” He motions for the sofa in a kind of 'sit down and spill your soul' way.

  “I’m okay.” I’m not okay. Not at all.

  I’m guessing Reggie can sense my enormous discomfort because he says with the tact of a charging bulldozer. “Would you rather Elijah wasn’t here?”

  If I could dig a hole and avoid answering I would. “No. It’s okay. We have no secrets,” I say. But only a fool would believe me.

  Eli sits by my side and picks up my hand, his thumb rubbing along the inside of my palm.

  “So, Faith.”

  Oh Lord.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you tell me when you first thought something was amiss? I believe from Eli, your stepbrother moved in when you were eleven?”

  My throat tightens.

  “Yes.” Eli’s hands massage my knee. “I was eleven. He was never officially my stepbrother though.”

  “No?” Reggie scratches a note on his legal pad.

  “No. My father never married his mother, but we lived like a family for a while.”

  “How long?”

  “How long what? How long did I think he was my brother?”

  “That’s interesting? So, there was a moment you knew he wasn’t your brother?”

  I shake my head. “I knew he was never my brother. He lived with my father until I was seventeen.”

  “And what happened when you were seventeen?”

  “I told my father what had happened to me.”

  “And when did he start to become inappropriate?”

  “I first noticed it when I was fourteen.”

  “It took you three years to realise?”

  My blood runs cold. My skin clammy and sticking to my beautiful blouse. “No.”

  “But you didn’t tell anyone? In three years, you didn’t mention it to anyone?”

  “No.” The word chokes me on the way out.

  “Why when you were seventeen did you speak out?”

  The questions won’t end. “I didn’t. I slept with someone else, and it spread around school. I knew it was him who had told everyone I was easy.”

  “How did you know?”

  I’m going to be sick right now. I clutch my tummy, trying to hold myself together. “Because I found out the other guy was a friend of Aiden’s.”

  “So, they were sharing you?”

  “No!” I leap from the sofa. “What are you talking about?” I don’t need this.

  Without a backwards glance I turn through the door and enter the cool hallway to the safety of the kitchen.

  I slump at the table, my head heavy in my hands. Within the space of my head the past batters me like a sea storming against a pier, threatening to wash it away. I want to look up, I want to see the gold of the sun, but I can’t. I can’t see anything other than ash and shadows. Ink and glass. Paint and hate.

  Hate.

  For me.

  For him.

  “Faith?” Eli stands behind me. His fingers rub along my shoulders, down my arms and then back up again. “He’s just doing his job. He needs to know everything otherwise he can’t protect you.”

  “And knowing who I fucked in sixth form will help how? Does he need a list of everyone since Aiden, 'cause honestly, Eli, I haven’t been keeping one?”

  I want him to hate me. I want him to storm away. It would be so much easier if he did. Then he could despise me as much as I do myself.

  “Does the list end with me?” He bends, turning me so I have to face him.

  “You know it does.”

  “Then that is all I care about. Your past doesn’t scare me, Faith. It never has and it never will.”

  “I can’t talk to him. Eli, I just can’t.” My voice pitches, rising shrill and loud.

  “Sunshine, please. Calm down.”

  “I can’t.” My breath hitches. I want to die. Dying would be easier right now.

  “Stay. Don’t run.”

  I nod. I haven’t the energy for running and if I did where would I go? Eli is everything for me. There is no place else to go. “I’m not running.”

  Relief flickers in the depths of the blues. He’s still waiting for me to go. I place my palm against his cheek. “I’m not running.”

  He nods just once. “This is hard, but you need to answer the questions. Reggie won’t be able to make your case in court if he can’t defend your character and back up what you are claiming.”

  A wave of exhaustion batters me from all sides. “I can’t stand thinking about it.”

  His hands cup my face, his nose brushing mine. “I know.”

  “I wish I’d never gone to the police. I wish none of this was happening.”

  “Then you’d still be running.” There’s a pause of hesitation I can’t help but notice. “Are you ready to go back in?” Eli sighs and lets go of my face.

  “No.” I laugh but it’s watery. “But I guess I should.”

  “Okay, let’s do this.”

  “Eli. Can you stay h
ere? I won’t be able to talk with you in there.”

  His face says it all. His shoulders slump but he nods.

  I hurt him with everything I do. I turn back for the kitchen door shooting him a small smile over my shoulder. With a deep breath I try and hold myself straight. This will all be worth it. I have to believe that like never before.

  I march back into the sitting room where Reggie is sat at the coffee table, his flash silver fountain pen scratching over his yellow paper.

  “I didn’t tell anyone because he told me not to. He whispered in my ear, made me believe his twisted words. He made me believe that I wanted his touch, but I never did. I never bloody did, okay?”

  Reggie’s face stays blank but when his eyes meet mine, I see an understanding there. Deep in the depths I know he doesn’t want to hurt me. Neither does Eli. They want to set me free. “Come and sit down, Faith, and tell me exactly what he said.”

  I only last another hour. The dark secrets and truths don’t want to be free; they don’t want me to bring them to life with consonants and vowels. As soon as I say goodbye to Reggie and shut the front door, I dash up the stairs to the bedroom and into the en-suite, switching on the shower and turning the temperature up. My body shakes with uncontrollable shivers. A sob is caught in my chest cavity, neither moving out in the flow of tears or dissipating back to my stomach. It’s stuck there not allowing me to breathe. I pull at my clothes, leaving them on the floor, and step under the steaming jets. Then I cry. Shuddering and curving under the water I sink into a crouch, balling myself up as small as I can go.

  He’s there. His hands lifting me, anchoring me to his body. Still clothed, his shirt is wet, droplets of water rolling off his hair and eyelashes. I wrap my arms round his neck and cling onto him for my life. He holds me. Just holds me, not saying a word. And I love him more than I ever thought possible, more than my heart, half black and bruised ever thought I could.

  I cry until time no longer has a meaning, but the hot water still rains down and his arms still hold me tight. “Let it go, Faith.” His lips skim my cheek, his hand pulling my hair away from my face so he can meet my gaze.

  “Love me.” I can’t say anything else.

  “I always do.”