Then I noticed my hands were covered in blood. The glass slid out of my hands, smashing into the bottom of the sink.
“No way,” I said, trembles running through my body.
Ignoring the shattered glass, I turned the tap on and washed my hands. My nail on my right index finger had a chip in it and my fingertips were covered in scratches and cuts.
I shook my head and ran back to bed. I couldn’t deal with this right now. Like a six-year-old child scared of the monsters under her bed, I threw the duvet over my head and willed myself to sleep. Everything would be just fine in the morning.
It had to be.
The next morning when I woke, I instantly looked at my hands. When I saw no cuts or scratches, and no chip in my nail, I breathed a sigh of relief. I tentatively made my way into the kitchen to find no smashed glass either.
“Just a bad dream,” I whispered to myself. “It was all just a bad dream.”
Putting the entire thing from last night to the back of my mind, I wanted nothing more than to revel in my memories of Marcus. I headed into the main house kitchen for breakfast and found Sophie already in the kitchen, cooking. It smelled absolutely divine.
“What are you rustling up?” I asked her, peering over her shoulder. “Eggs, bacon, and sausages. Nice.”
“Guests first,” she said, laughing. “Then staff.”
I grinned and headed to the fridge for some orange juice. “I know. Doesn’t mean I can’t look forward to it.” I poured a pint of pulp free juice and then asked quietly, “Is Dad up yet?”
Sophie shook her head, her brown curly hair moving from side to side. “I’m worried about him, Caitlyn. I think he’s declining worse than what he’s letting on.”
I pressed my lips together and bit back the immediate tears that sprung to the surface. “I hate to say this, but I think you’re right.”
My good mood popped in an instant and I sat down on one of the kitchen table chairs, feeling rather deflated. I leaned my left arm on the back of the chair and rested my chin on it as I stared into space, debating just how long my dad had left to live. Had he been downplaying the whole thing?
The back door opened, letting in a gust of fresh sea air. I turned around to see a huge man wiping his mud-covered boots on the doormat.
“Something smells good,” he said, his voice deep and husky.
A head of dark brown hair stared at me as the strange man stared at his feet, getting all the dirt off his rigger boots. When he lifted his head and stood up squarely, my eyes nearly fell out of my head.
Built like a cart-horse, the guy had muscle upon muscle straining against his dirt-streaked red and white checked shirt. He stood easily over six feet tall, his legs clad in faded denim jeans that highlighted his thickly muscled thighs. Aside from his hulking impressive presence, the most startling thing about him had to be his enormous eyes. A deep milk chocolate brown, they gleamed with life, almost seeming to have a soul all of their own.
“Hi,” he said, lifting his plump lips into a wonky smile. “You must be Caitlyn.”
I nodded and attempted to wet my lips with my tongue, only to realise my mouth was wide open. Heat scorched my cheeks in an instant as I realised I must look like a complete dork.
“I’m Luke,” he said, striding towards me with his hand out. “Luke Freeman.”
I grasped his hand, stifling a gasp as his firm handshake almost crushed my small bones. I suddenly became acutely aware of my attire—my pyjamas—black and white polka dot shorts and a lilac vest top.
“What…what are…do you…do?”
I wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow me now.
If he happened to be even slightly amused at my shameful stumbling of words, he didn’t let it show. “I help your dad with odd jobs, DIY, that sort of thing. Handyman if you like.”
“Oh,” I replied, my initial thoughts of an old greying man disappearing into nothing. “Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
He moved around to Sophie’s side, looking at what she was cooking.
“Hands off,” she said, swatting at his hand. “Or I’ll hurt you.”
He flashed her a crooked smile then, as quick as I could blink, he dipped his hand down towards the frying pan and whipped out a sausage and a piece of bacon.
“Luke Freeman!” Sophie shouted, shoving his shoulder. “Get out of here right now.” She lifted the oil covered spatula up and waved it at him.
Swallowing the bacon and sausage in one mouthful, Luke scooted to my side of the kitchen and sat down on the chair opposite me, his chocolate eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Why do I get the feeling you do that a lot?” I said to him, giggling.
He grinned at me. “What gives you that impression?”
“It looked like you had that perfectly timed.”
“Well, you know what they say—practice makes perfect.”
I laughed. “Do you think you could get away with round two?”
“She told you guests first, didn’t she?”
I nodded.
He leaned forwards and whispered, “Give me ten seconds.” He then gave me a conspiratorial wink before sneaking up behind Sophie again.
Sophie hummed to herself, lost in her own little world. As she turned to the left to get plates out of the cupboard, Luke darted at the frying pan, stealing another sausage and another piece of bacon. He hurried back to me, handing me his spoils as I struggled to contain my spluttering laughter.
By the time Sophie turned back to the pan, Luke had sat back in his seat. I stared at the wall behind him, quickly munching through my bacon and sausage whilst trying not to give the game away.
A gasp sounded from behind me, almost creasing me in half with laughter. “Luke Freeman! Have you been back up here?”
Luke gave her an angelic smile. “Me? Never.”
“Luke!” she shouted. “I have a quota to fill. Breakfast starts in fifteen minutes.”
“Which is plenty of time to cook more food,” he replied, giving her a broad smile.
Sophie scowled before heading over to the fridge, muttering something about, “Every damn morning.” She took out a fresh pack of bacon and another pack of sausages. “Here,” she said, emptying the contents of the pan onto a plate. “Eat it and leave me alone.”
Luke jumped up from his seat and grabbed the plate before Sophie changed her mind. He plonked it down in between us and said, “Share?”
I nodded and eagerly picked at another sausage. “Thanks.”
Sophie appeared next to me, slamming down a bowl of scrambled eggs. “I guess I can make more of that, too.”
“Awww, Sophie,” Luke said. “You know you love feeding me really.”
A small smile tweaked at Sophie’s lips as she turned away from us. Seconds later, two knives and two forks were placed in front of us along with a plate of hash browns.
“Wow,” I said. “This is going to last me all day.”
“Beans, toast, tomatoes, and mushrooms to come yet,” Luke said.
I raised an eyebrow. “How much food can one person eat?”
He chuckled. “If you hadn’t noticed, I’m not your average sized guy.”
“Well, I didn’t want to be rude,” I said, giggling.
He grinned at me and chomped on a piece of bacon. “Regardless, Sophie’s cooking is so good, I’d happily eat myself to death with it.”
“Flattery gets you everywhere,” Sophie called over her shoulder.
“So you’re here to stay, huh?” Luke asked me.
I nodded. “Although I’m starting to think I should have been here weeks ago.” I swallowed the last of my sausage and lowered my voice to ask, “Have you seen a decline in Dad lately?”
Sadness swept through his eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. I’m sorry.”
My appetite vanished. How could I sit here enjoying food when my dad slept a matter of metres away slowly fading into nothing? I put my half-eaten sausage back on the plate and
stood up.
To my surprise, Luke wrapped his shovel sized hand around my wrist. I gasped as our eyes met, his chocolate brown depths already hypnotising me. The warmth that surged through me from his touch almost took my breath away.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low and quiet. “I know it hurts but your dad needs you now more than ever. You can’t be there for him if you’re not looking after yourself.”
He motioned his head towards the hot food on the table. I swallowed the lump in my throat. He was right, I knew that. Half of me wanted to yell at him to keep his nose out of my business but that would do nothing other than reveal my raw vulnerability about this whole situation.
I gave him a weak smile as I sat back down and forced the rest of the sausage down me. “Done,” I said.
He grabbed a fork and pushed a fried egg towards me on the plate. “Two sausages and a piece of bacon? You can eat more than that.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you calling me fat?”
He laughed. “That escalated quickly.” He shook his head, a deep chuckle vibrating through him. “No. I was pointing out that two sausages and a piece of bacon isn’t enough for anyone to eat for breakfast.”
I picked up a knife and fork and ate the egg, just to keep him happy. When I’d finished, I smiled at him. “Happy now?”
Sophie put a small plate down on the table, laden down with four pieces of hot toast, dripping in butter. Luke inclined his head towards the toast.
“Oh come on,” I said. “Play fair.”
“Before we spoke about your dad, what were you planning to eat this morning? Because I bet it was something along the lines of a full English.”
I blushed and then scowled at him. “Fine. You win.” I picked up a piece of toast and bit into it, my appetite slowly coming back with each bite. “This time,” I said, grinning at him.
“This time is good enough for me,” he said.
We continued eating in silence. Within five minutes, the plate of eggs, sausages, and bacon had been emptied, mostly due to his vast appetite. Sophie scurried about, taking food into the dining room and then coming back to cook more. I could hear the quiet hum of chatter from the guests.
Just as I debated making my excuses to leave, Dad wandered into the kitchen. His steps were small and hurried, like a little old man that couldn’t quite lift his feet. His skin had turned a sickly shade of green and my stomach immediately churned. He looked…sick, really really sick.
“Hey, Dad,” I said, jumping to my feet. “How are you feeling?”
He gave me a faint smile. “I’m ok, pumpkin. How are you?”
I took his hand and led him to my chair. “I’m good, Dad. Do you want some breakfast? Sophie has cooked lots of food.”
“Yes, please. Sophie’s cooking is the best.”
I fetched him a clean plate and some clean cutlery, then served food onto his plate for him. As I put a pile of bacon on, he touched my hand with his and gave me such a pitiful look, my heart cracked in two.
“Caitlyn, you don’t need to fuss over me. I can manage to sort my own food.”
I blushed furiously as I realised I was fussing over him like a mother hen. “Sorry, Dad.”
He patted my arm and chuckled. “I appreciate the gesture. Thank you.” As he bit into a piece of bacon he said, “Joanna has called in sick this morning. I will give you a hand with the rooms.”
“I can manage on my own, Dad,” I said, scuttling out of the kitchen.
“See you in ten minutes,” he called after me.
I ran back outside, desperate to be in the safe confines of my room. I didn’t know how to handle this thing with my dad. He looked so weak and fragile, it brought out my natural urge to care for him and do whatever he needed but it seemed my actions were doing nothing more than frustrating him.
“Caitlyn.”
My hand on the tap, I turned around to see Luke striding towards me. His eyes exuded nothing but care and compassion, the burning bright light in them almost dulled slightly by sadness.
I smiled at him. “Hi.”
“Don’t take it to heart,” he said, coming to a stop a couple of feet away. He leaned a huge forearm on the plastic window ledge of the utility room window, making it creak. “He’s a very independent guy. He won’t let anyone do anything for him.”
I sighed. “I know. He just looks so ill and…feeble. It’s not normal.” Tears started welling in my eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Just let him be. Don’t treat him any differently than if he were perfectly healthy.” I opened my mouth to speak but he held a hand up, silencing me. “I know it’s hard. We’re all here for you, Caitlyn, and we’re all struggling with it too.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“I’m here nearly every day…you know…if you just want to chat or anything.”
I nodded and smiled at him before disappearing into my room. I just wanted to hide away for a while, let things digest in my head and sort out this wild mix of emotions streaming through me. I’d barely taken two steps towards the bed before my phone started ringing.
I frowned, wondering who it could be. Then I remembered Marcus’ promise to call me this morning. Last night seemed like an eternity away. Grabbing it from my bedside table, I couldn’t help but grin when I saw his name flashing across the screen.
“Hey,” I said.
“Good morning. How are you? Did you sleep well?”
“I’m good thanks, didn’t sleep too bad. How about you?”
“I’m very well, thank you for asking. What are you up to today?”
“Nothing exciting,” I said, sighing. “Just washing and cleaning. The usual.”
“Do you have any plans for afterwards?”
My heart immediately warmed. “No.”
“Any idea what time you’ll be done?”
I mentally ran around the guest house, counting the bedrooms. “I have no idea. I’ve got thirty rooms to strip the beds of, clean, and hoover.”
He hesitated for a moment, then said, almost curtly, “Ok, well let me know when you’re done, and we’ll go and do something.”
“Sure,” I said, forcing a smile onto my face. Some small silly part of me half hoped he’d offer to come and help me.
“I’ll speak to you later,” he said.
“Ok,” I said, hanging up the phone.
I forced myself to get dressed and get on with my jobs, pushing aside all depressing thoughts about my dad. At least today would have a ray of sunshine to it when I saw Marcus later. Every cloud has a silver lining.
Chapter 6
By midday, I'd managed to strip all the beds and redress them. However, the pile of washing had grown to the size of Mount Everest and I still had to clean and hoover each room before the guests returned at teatime. How Joanna did this with a pair of toddlers at her feet I'd never know. What scared me more was that when she had her days off, Dad did all this on his own.
“Need some help?”
I spun around to see Luke smiling at me and glancing at the massive heap of sheets and pillowcases in the middle of the corridor.
“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this?” I said, smirking at him with my hands on my hips.
“I have no idea,” he replied, smirking back. “You know there is a system to this.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Please do share.”
“You do each room completely, one at a time. Otherwise this way, you’re going into each room two or three times, once to do the beds, once to do the cleaning, once to hoover. And every room is in a mess. At least if you do it room by room, if the guests come back to a room you’ve not done yet, you can ask them to wait or give them the option to skip your services. This way, you’ve currently got thirty guests that can’t go in their room.”
Dawning realisation set in then and I felt like such an idiot. My cheeks heated up to a thousand degrees. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
He grinned. “Because you’re just fo
llowing what made sense to you. There’s nothing wrong in that.”
“I’ve done bits and pieces before but never the whole hotel. Usually I'd follow Dad or Joanna around and they’d tell me what to do whilst they did something else.”
“Well, now you’re in charge. What would you like me to do?”
I hesitated. “You’re being serious, aren’t you? About helping me?”
He frowned. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I...I don’t know. Um, would you mind taking this mound of washing downstairs please? Can you put a load on as well?” I suddenly realised then he may not be able to work a washing machine. “If you can’t figure it out, I'll come down in a few minutes.”
He tipped his head back and laughed. “Caitlyn, I can work a washing machine.”
My cheeks now pulsing with heat, I giggled to ease my embarrassment. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ll be back in two minutes and I'll follow you from room to room with the hoover whilst you clean. Or vice versa, whatever suits you best.”
“Really? I’m sure Dad doesn’t pay you to help me fix my screw ups.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I won’t charge him for this, that wouldn’t be fair.”
My jaw dropped. “You’re going to do this for free?”
“Of course. You need help.”
I didn’t know what to say other than, “Thank you so much.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he said, scooping up an armful of sheets and heading downstairs.
Luke followed me from room to room, as he promised, hoovering intently as I polished the surfaces and cleaned the bathrooms. He even hoovered the corridors.
By the time I finished the last room on the top floor, I’d turned into nothing short of a sweaty sticky mess. I checked the time—four-thirty. How had I lost nearly five hours of my life? No wonder Joanna had no meat on her, doing this every day plus running around after her two girls. She had more of a workout than a gym session.
“Fancy a drink?” Luke said, putting the hoover away in the cupboard.
Each floor had its own cleaning closet which made life easier than hauling things up and down stairs.
I picked at my damp t shirt and said, “Think I need to change before I go anywhere.”
Love, Lies and Immortal Ties: A young adult paranormal romance (Love, Lies and Ties Book 1) Page 5
