They might have been born from fairy tales and stories to help a little girl in dire need, but for most of my life, they’ve been trusted friends, friends I always could rely on. Yes, yes, I hear what people say. It was all in my head.
Of course, it was. I’m not stupid! But who says that what’s in one’s head isn’t real? They gave this body real strength. They gave me real strength and real pain. It was real. Just because I have names for my pain doesn’t make it less real. Just because at times I lost myself in them, doesn’t make it any less real.
They helped me leave the forest of my childhood that was filled with real monsters and real dangers. Monsters that are behind bars now. Dangers I survived and fears I conquered.
Bloody hell, I’ve done it all. And I’m proud of what I’ve achieved. And to people who think they can judge me? Go ahead if you’re narrow-minded. I, for once, don’t give a damn.
“Did you ask me if I want coffee?”
“Yes, dear. I wondered where you went.”
I blush and turn around with two coffee mugs and pass one to Scott. “I’m so used to talking to the Tribe inside my head, I’ve to remind myself that you can’t read my thoughts. Today’s events are still raw and tumble through my mind. Most of all, though, I’m amazed by how lucky I am that I’ve found you.”
“You found me? I think I have found you if we’re honest. Remember the smoking cooking range?”
“Are we going to fight about it?”
“No, we’ve found each other, that’s the important thing.”
After that confession, I have to give him a hug. He flinches when I press on his wounded arm.
“First you have to make sure that this arm is healing and then we have to talk about our next steps. After that, we need to think about our future now that we solved the Gateway mystery.”
“Are you guys coming to look at my new room?”
Rena stands on top of the stairs.
By the look of it, our future is an open book.
I like that.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Lillybeth: 5 June 2017, Wright’s Homestead
“What are you looking at?”
Scott doesn’t respond. He sits opposite me at the breakfast table gazing at me with adoration as if I’m a masterpiece at the Louvre. It makes me nervous. I’m not a hundred-year-old piece of perfection. I’m a normal person with cracks and signs of wear and tear.
Slices of toast are roasting on the range next to the piping hot coffee, spreading the distinct aroma of home sweet home, lazy breakfasts together, and more than anything, normality throughout the house. Never would I have believed this kind of normal would be something I would ever experience. Yet here I am, most likely the happiest person on planet earth. I still find it hard at times to accept that I deserve this wonderful life.
Storms no longer frighten me with Scott at my side. It’s as if the sun had broken through the dark clouds of turmoil and agony, and eased my soul with its warm rays and brought peace to my inner world. With Scott, the sun never sets. I’m no longer afraid of the dark. Because when he is near, when his breath lingers on my skin, nothing scares me.
“I never met a woman as strong as you are.”
“Now you exaggerate. I’m not that strong unless you think of Luke, but he no longer comes out.”
“No, I’m not exaggerating. I never say things that aren’t true.”
Hm, never? Where is he going with this?
“I’ve finished my toast.” Rena put the last bit of her toast down into her mouth. “May I take Prince outside?” She wiggles impatiently in her chair.
“But no climbing up the big tree without me or dad. It’s too dangerous.”
I like the sound of mum and dad. I can’t say it often enough. The adoption papers came through last Friday, hand-delivered by the social worker we’d met during the Gateway raid. It’s official. We are Rena’s parents. It wasn’t an easy process. My mental health records were a huge obstacle. But with high-ranking police officers giving me glowing character references, we finally prevailed.
There is no end to our luck.
She jumps off her chair and races Prince to the back door.
Scott waits until Rena is outside. He takes my hand and smiles.
“Ever since I saw you for the first time, coming out the homestead, with eyes that wanted to stab me, and the chimney behind you smoking like hell, I fell in love with you. You have surprised me. Each day, with every word and every action.”
His smile from a minute ago has changed places with a serious expression.
I think I prefer the smile. Where is he going with this?
“Is this the moment where we compliment each other profusely? If so, you need to give me some airspace too.”
“No, now you’re silly. You know exactly what I’m trying to do.”
“Me? No. Isn’t this what they do in group therapy, where people go around and tell each other how grateful they are for the other person’s presence and contribution? At least that’s how it was in some of the programs they forced me to attend.”
“Lillybeth, can you stop for once. I’m trying to propose to you and you’re making it very difficult for me.”
“Oh. You want to propose to me?”
Of course, I knew that was going to happen sometime. I just didn’t know the time is now. And I can’t wait to hear it, all of it. Still, there is a part of me that’s afraid to hear what he’ll say. What if I believe all the good stuff? What if it’ll get taken away in the future when we fight and drift apart? What if he leaves me because I’m too difficult to live with? I wouldn’t survive it.
“Yes, is that so unusual?”
He sounds very patient. Not irritated at all about my sidestepping. The man is a saint. He deserves better than me.
“Why me? I’m a broken vase, stuck together with some elephant glue, but bound to fall apart by the first test of courage. You never know what I’m going to do next, I don’t even know. Will I jump at you or turn into a proverbial infant. Trust me, I have it from a reliable source, marriage to me is difficult and no fun at all.”
“I don’t want to know who that reliable source is. From the very first day, you have shown courage beyond anything I’ve ever seen.”
“The first day? I was afraid like hell.”
“And still you took your life into your hands and fought for your freedom like you fought Sebastian and Raymond Feldman. You never hesitated for a minute to stand up in court and say, ‘This is who I am’, knowing very well that there would be a large group of people not believing you and putting you down. You went to Gateway and released the children. Do I need to say more?”
“Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill. If my memory serves me right, you helped me. I wasn’t alone. Anyone would have done that.”
“No, I’m not. Accept what you did was extraordinary. There were plenty of adults inside and outside the Gateway community who were uncomfortable with what went on, and still, none of them took any actions.”
There is no arguing with Scott when he sits on his high horse determined to be right.
“Hm, I guess you love me then? I guess love is making you blind.”
“When I look into your eyes, I feel so close to you. You encourage me to be a better man. With you on my side, I feel whole and strong enough to fight dragons.”
He’s standing now and pulling me up from my chair.
“Stop joking around. You’ve seen my wounds, seen how my wife’s death destroyed my soul to an extent I never thought possible. And yet it was you who helped me to re-discover myself among that debris of my life. Through the example you set, through your patience, and your lack of expectation you took me along on this ride at my own pace. You allowed me to get it right this time around.”
“Oh Scott, with all the good things you say about me, I feel like crawling under my bed. It’s very hard for me to hear.”
“I’m so sorry, my darling. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. I t
hought proposing would be easy because everything with you is such an easy task. With you on my side, we can conquer the world.”
He pulled me to him.
“Will you marry me?”
“Of course I’ll marry you. All the traits you say I possess, none of them were visible until I broke free from Horace and came to this place. I felt bashful that you see all these things in me. In my eyes, I am in many ways a broken person. Only since I wasn’t alone anymore, since you were at my side, have I found the courage to push for what I believe is right.”
He laughs and I rest my head on his chest. “Perhaps the miracle is that we are meant to bring out the best in each other. So you are saying we are getting married? Is that what we are doing?”
“We are.”
“Do you mind driving to Port Somers to the council and getting married in front of the magistrate? Or do you want to wait till we can drum a few people together as witnesses?”
“I don’t need anybody to be there with us, other than Rena. She will be part of our new life; she should be part of the wedding. I don’t need any more time. We can go today.”
“You make me the happiest man on the planet.”
I’m rolling my eyes. This is getting out of hand.
“I have to get used to you exaggerating all the time. Is this going to be a lasting trait? I’m not sure I like it much.”
“I don’t know what you would rather have me do.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
“Right now I wonder what a girl has to do to get a kiss. You’ve been talking forever and I’m sitting here thinking, when’s he going to get to the good bits, where I’m getting the kiss I’ve been waiting for? Should that not have happened before you even started, as a way of warming me up?”
Scott takes my head in his hands and his hungry lips caress mine, demanding a response in kind. He deepens his kiss and lets me know that I am his and he is mine.
Till death do us part—and beyond.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Lillybeth: 1 October 2017, Early Afternoon, Wright’s Homestead
Coming home is strange. Not much has changed and yet I feel a lightness as we drive along the coast. At the former Gateway compound, we stop at a large barrier and an even larger sign announcing the building of a state-of-the-art recycling plant.
Everything looks cleaner, newer, and fresher as if a tidal wave has cleansed the land of its human vermin and made space for new growth and new life. Port Somers is greeting us with sunshine and the first daffodils are blossoming in lovingly tended front gardens. Spring is sending its first messengers. Even the river, during summer meandering at leisure in its wide, stony bed, is whirling toward the ocean, brown with the run-off from the melting snow in the mountains.
Spring is in the air.
We turn at the same gravel road, which was no longer gravel but shows a new layer of asphalt. Our beloved Flatbush Valley Creek greets us with the gurgling of a young infant as it dances over the boulders overgrown with moss.
After three months of traveling through Australia with an RV and enjoying the stunning wilderness of the outback, we are home again. Scott stops the car before we reach the house and pulls an airline sleeping mask out of his pocket.
“Let me put it on you, so it’s a surprise!”
He opens the back door for Rena, then helps me out of the car.
“Give me your hand. I don’t want you to fall on our last twenty yards.”
I stretch out my arm and wait until he grabs my hand.
“I wondered why you asked the flight attendant for a mask.” I try to mock-box his arm but my fist only hits air. “How sneaky of you.”
Rena laughs and skips at my other side, as far as I can make out. Then she takes my free hand and they both lead me to the house. I hear the gate open and stop. Scott takes me into his arms and gives me a long, slow kiss that reminds me of all the reasons I’m in love with him.
He laughs, lifts me, and swings me around.
“You can take off your mask now.”
I do so and what I see takes my breath away. On the first glimpse, it looks like the same house is standing at the end of a newly paved path. Only that it’s much bigger than the old homestead had been. It proudly wears a fresh coat of paint, a new roof in fire-engine red, and the windows have new shutters. A white picket fence surrounds our house garden with a real gate and archway. Yes, everything is the same…but different.
The ghosts from the past have left. Everything is bright and inviting. The new extensions fit the old homestead like a glove. We step onto the porch at the front of the house where a wicker table and two comfortable wicker chairs are waiting for the five o’clock sundowner. Rena can’t wait and dances ahead to the front door with Madeline squeezed under her arm.
In awe, I turn to Scott. “You organized all that while we were in Australia? It is stunning, darling.” I reach up to him and kiss his cheek.
He pulls me along. “Come, see what we’ve done inside.”
We had everything discussed before we left on the trip, so I knew how things looked on the plan, but not in reality. He opens the door and my first impression is, it’s not my house. And it isn’t.
They painted the walls and the wooden floor has received a new coat of varnish. What used to be a small and cozy room acting as a kitchen, dining, and living room, has grown to a beautiful country kitchen with a stunning AGA cooker, a dining room with a table that seats six people, and a large living room with French doors leading to the back yard.
“You found me an AGA cooker? How?”
“I had to. Your old range needed updating. They couldn’t salvage it. Are you angry?”
“Oh no, not at all. Thank you so much. I always wanted an AGA.” Scott looks at me as if I’m not quite sane.
“You? Always?”
I burst out laughing. He’s right; I never have wanted anything to do with cooking or a cooker.
“I must be channeling Ama. How wonderful! I haven’t lost anybody.”
“Come and see our new bedrooms.”
Rena is shouting from upstairs. She sits in the middle of the floor of what is undoubtedly a girl’s bedroom with pink curtains and pink bedspreads, a bookshelf, a large dolls’ house, and an army of soft toys.
“Do you like it?”
Scott stands behind me, his arms around my middle, his head nuzzling on my neck.
“It’s wonderful.”
The same goes for our bedroom, the guest bedroom, and the two bathrooms. I tried the taps and they work. Real water is flowing out. So do the light switches. No longer carrying water in buckets from the pump in the garden, no longer roaming the house at night by candlelight.
“Come, you have to see the backyard. I have another surprise for you.”
He pulls me down the stairs, through the laundry—oh, a nice laundry—and out the back door. I’m curious. We had nothing planned for the back garden, it was supposed to be our wild bit, so Rena and Prince have space to be carefree without having to look out for flower or vegetable beds.
Oh yes, the backyard was beautiful. The new extension had a large wet room and a bathroom fit for kings. They tore the old shed down and built a new one, housing two stables, and space for whatever sheds are supposed to be for.
Yes, I said stables. We found Scott’s trusted old Brandy about a month after the fire twenty miles down the road at a farm. Next to Brandy stood a small black and white pony looking out over his pen-door.
“Rena, come down and look at the surprise dad has for you.”
We didn’t have to call her twice. She comes running down the stairs and stands speechless at the pen. She lifts on her toes and tries to reach the horse. Scott helps her up and gives her a carrot to feed the pony.
“Her name is Magpie and she likes apples and carrots best. You hold your hand flat out so she won’t mistake your fingers for a carrot.
Rena giggles as her pony nibbles on her hand.
“Mum, may I r
ide this?”
“Of course, darling. I’m not a good rider but dad is. He’ll teach you.”
Scott nods. “Not today though.” He turns to me.
“But you haven’t seen the piece de resistance yet.”
He takes my hand and walks up to the giant tree in the back. Our tree. From deep within me comes a sigh of many souls. They will never forget the tree. It’ll always be the model for our tree house, the most beautiful, safe, and peaceful place in the world.
Scott is pointing up into the crown. I swallow. Unable to talk, I choke. Tears are flowing down my cheeks.
“Scott!”
How can I ever thank him?
“Yes, darling.” He comes to stand next to me, a satisfied smile on his face. Rightfully so. This is a perfect surprise. Better than the renovated house. There, halfway hidden in the vast branches of the old tree, three yards above the ground, is the most amazing tree house I’ve ever seen. It has small windows, ropes to swing on, curtains, a small veranda, and a banister. A ladder was fastened to the tree to give whoever wanted to climb up a safe footing.
I make my way up the ladder, one step at the time. My entire body vibrates with joy and anticipation. I have to stop every second rung to wipe the tears out of my eyes. My hands are shaking. It’s as if every one of the Tribe is with me. Nothing will ever replace the tree house I used to have inside my mind but this is the second-best tree house ever.
Reaching the small veranda, I look down into the smiling faces of my family. Never before has a woman been as happy as I am now. Inside the hut, I let out a big gasp. I have to hold on to the doorframe. A small writing table with an old oil lamp—Ama’s lamp, he didn’t throw it away—stood next to a window. On it are notebooks and pens and a vase filled with margarita flowers. I pull the wicker chair to me. My legs are shaking. I have to sit down.
Scott is coming up the stairs.
“Are you okay, darling?”
I sniff. The surprise is perfect. It’s as if he looked into my soul and saw what I needed. I was devastated when our tree house shrunk, lost rooms, and in the end, it only existed in my memory. Nobody climbs up the stairs into the common room anymore because it disappeared. Together with the Tribe, it had faded out, as if it had been a movie that ended. They all have a place in my heart now.
Beyond the Tree House Page 21
