“Tell me exactly, why is it you are concerning yourself with moving them together, when you are clearly in love with my daughter yourself?”
Augustus had taken Jonathan off guard with that. The boy first blushed, then pursed his lips, looking almost angry. “With all due respect, Ana is a great girl. But I am not in love with her.”
“With all due respect, yes, you are.”
Jonathan’s face showed his range of emotions quite clearly. Augustus had a lot of experience reading people, and he read a tremendous amount of conflict in the boy. Jonathan spoke slowly, carefully selecting his words. “She is not mine to love.”
“My daughter belongs to no one,” Augustus said evenly. “Not you, not your brother.” Not even me.
“I understand, but she has made her choice. I can and will respect that.”
Augustus could not help feeling a twinge of pitiful admiration for the boy. His concern for Ana was apparent since the day Augustus had arrived, and yet he cared enough for her that he would give her up for the happiness of another. That was an admirable trait. Selflessness was so rare these days. “Very well, then. I’ll have them moved together, if the doctors will allow it.”
“Thank you,” Jonathan said quietly, and left.
Chapter Sixty-Two: Ana
It had been a week since they released Ana, but she had not left the hospital. Her father was angry with her, but she could live with that. He did not understand why she wouldn’t return home to New Orleans. He had cautioned her that Finn may have a lengthy recovery. And now he had slipped into a coma that he might never come out of. She was angry that no one had moved Finn into her room sooner, but how could she tell people that she could have healed him?
“He matters to me,” is all she would say. Her father shook his head so much over the matter she thought it might fall clean off his shoulders.
“He might never come out of that bed. You have a life to lead, Anasofiya. You have a future that you have to think of. You hardly know that boy,” he alternately cajoled and bullied, until he was near blue in the face. “We both know your abilities are...rather one sided.”
“I healed him once before,” she declared boldly. “He might be dead if not for me.”
“He’s not your responsibility. Or your future.”
“My future is here. At least for now,” Ana insisted. “This is what I need to do.” I know you don’t understand. I don’t expect you to. I’ve done a lot of things...terrible things...because I didn’t understand myself enough. Now I have a chance to put that all behind me. I care deeply for Finn, and when I was in a coma he never left my side. I will not repay that kindness by leaving him now. I can save him. I have saved him. He needs me.
But she would never say all of that to her father, ever.
“Your choices are entirely illogical,” her father capitulated. “I will not pretend I agree with them. But you are thirty years old, and I am under no illusion that I have any authority in the matter.”
And so he had left; not necessarily on bad terms, but there would need to be some healing there, for both of them. Ana loved her father very much. If he had raised her with more warmth, she might have thrown herself into his arms and told him as much. Instead, she took his hands in hers, squeezed, then let him go.
She still had trouble wrapping her head around the events of that night. Especially Alex’s transformation. It was fuzzy and surreal, as if recalling a dream from long ago. She knew one day it would hit her, and that she would be traumatized all over again, but she was grateful for some relief from it now.
No one would tell her what happened to Alex. Jon would only say, “We took care of it,” but refused to elaborate. A part of her knew. The other part of her was glad not to know.
At least her father had agreed to fund the restoration of the lighthouse. Her request had not been fueled by her care for Alex, as she had once envisioned, but her desire to give the island community some needed closure.
Seeing Nicolas and Oz appear at the house in their moment of need had been strangest of all. She should have known Nicolas would not sit back idly without hearing from her, but seeing him was no less shocking. And Oz...why had he come? Guilt?
Oz stopped by her room before he left to go back to New Orleans.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, taking a seat near the bed. So casual…as if there wasn’t this sordid history between us.
“You know me. Good as new.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” Oz said, distantly. Ana sensed there were things he wanted to say.
“Thank you for coming out,” she offered. “I appreciate what you did. You didn’t have to.”
“I did have to,” he asserted. He looked at her; his green eyes were large, and sad. “I’m sorry, for everything. I didn’t mean for things to end up like this.”
“We never do, Oz. But all we can do is try to move forward. And there’s nothing to be gained from dwelling on it.”
He nodded, but there was more behind his eyes. “I care deeply for you, Ana. I always have, so I’m sorry for making you feel like you weren’t good enough, or that there was something wrong with you. We all have our demons.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I don’t know,” he said. His voice was hoarse. He got up from the chair and leaned over her; his lips brushed hers in the briefest of kisses. Then, he stood and moved toward the door.
Pausing with a sigh, he looked at her one last time. “You should know that Nicolas knows about us now. I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. If it helps, I think he blames me.”
Then, Oz bowed his head and left, leaving her staring at the door in shocked silence.
For a week, Ana had sat by Finn’s bedside. She had read to him, talked to him, told him all the stories of her childhood. She did all of the things he had so selflessly done for her when she had been hurt. And she did not do them alone.
Jonathan had not left his brother’s side. When it was time to eat, they would rotate whose turn it was to go get food. They found ways to ensure that Finn was never alone. The hospital had brought in a couple of fold out chairs for them to sleep in. Finn was moved into a larger, more private room, once the worst of the immediate concerns were resolved.
And still, Nicolas did not visit. You should know that Nicolas knows about us now. The words haunted her, and hung heavy over her heart. He should have been my first visitor. He should have been here the moment I woke up.
Jon told her that Nicolas hadn’t left for New Orleans yet. That he was harassing the doctors regularly, and generally being obnoxious. But he had not come in to see Ana.
She was fooling herself to believe she ever intended to tell him about what happened with Oz. It was a lovely thought, that she would come clean one day and clear the air. But deep down she knew that it would never happen. That her advice that Oz take it to the grave was for her, too.
Then, Oz had done it for both of them.
Ana should feel better with that heavy lie no longer lying between them, but instead she felt as if she had lost the only thing that ever mattered to her. No matter what else had come at her in life, there was always Nicolas, holding her hand; believing in her, understanding her, encouraging her. Loving her.
Please just come see me. I just need to know what you’re thinking.
His silence told her all she needed to know.
Epilogue: Ana
“It is a far, far better thing that I do now, than I have ever done. It is a far greater rest I go to now, than I have ever known,” Ana whispered, closing A Tale of Two Cities. “I am determined that you will get all the classics as long as I am here, or until they kick me out,” she joked.
“Finn always did like to read,” Jonathan said, his gaze still fixed on the movie that was playing.
“Really?” Ana was surprised, but pleasantly so. She smiled to herself. Maybe we do have a few things in common.
Finn was still wearing the two crosses around his neck. The nurse wanted to
remove them, but Ana insisted they remain; they weren’t hurting anything and she thought that maybe they even helped him.
“I know you said he probably doesn’t know I am doing this, but I can’t help myself. I know I can’t sit around and do nothing,” Ana explained. She stopped herself, remembering that Jonathan was one of the few people she didn’t have to explain herself to. She was so used to having to rationalize everything with others that it was habit.
“He’s very lucky,” Jon affirmed, but there was something in his voice that she couldn’t quite detect. It had been there a lot since she decided to stay, and she wished he were an easier read. Or maybe I really don’t want to know.
“I’m doing no more than what he has already done for me,” Ana insisted.
“You love him,” Jon stated. It wasn’t a question, but he was watching her closely for her response.
“I…I don’t know what it feels like to be in love,” she admitted, and the admission was a shock even to her.
Her response surprised him. “I don’t believe that.”
“Don’t you?” She met his gaze squarely. “I’m not the only one.”
Jon held her gaze for a moment, and then dropped his eyes. “People like us…maybe we aren’t meant for that.”
“What a lovely sentiment,” she laughed it off, but the comment hit close to home. Had that not always been in the back of her mind? She was afraid of sharing herself…afraid that the other person would expect more from her than she could give. She didn’t know how to change, and realized, as she grew older that she didn’t want to. Not if that was the price of belonging to someone. She would be content belonging to herself.
Finn was such a nice person, and the extent of their connection had been born from unfortunate circumstances. Ana knew he loved her, but why? Did he see the darkness inside her? Did he understand her craving to be alone more than with others? Did he understand the sides of her that she kept closest to her chest? Maybe he did; he did live with Jonathan, after all. But was that what he wanted from life? To escape one for another?
Am I trying to sabotage this, before it even gets off the ground? Am I trying to convince myself that this will end up the same as the others, so I can walk away without feeling remorse? What is it that I am doing here? Then why did I stay?
Jonathan reached out and took her hand in his; a gesture that both surprised her and brought more comfort than she would have guessed. He didn’t say anything, and neither did she, both just enjoying quiet understanding.
Then, suddenly, his hand felt like poison. Ana exhaled, closed her eyes, and realized that she did know the reason she stayed; had known all along.
Jon is my darkness. To accept him is to accept that part of myself, and if I do that, I’ll never be rid of it. He would accept the things about me that I desperately want to change. I would slip deeper and deeper into the dark recesses of my own mind, and so would Jon.
But Finn could accept that darkness without allowing it to grow further out of control. He could live with who she was, because he had lived with someone just like her, his whole life. He knew what to expect and would help her find a way to come to terms with it, and–just maybe–change.
With Finn, she could be herself, but she could also be free.
Finn was finally ready to come home. He would need some additional care, but Jon could provide it and Ana would help. She would stay by his side forever, if that was what it took. “I’ve never been so happy to see a face in my entire life,” Finn had said when he awoke, and found her at his side.
“I know the feeling,” Ana said and kissed his hand. She wanted to do more, but Jon was nearby and she felt him wince at even the small amount of shared affection. This is going to be a complicated arrangement, but we will have to figure it out.
Ana packed up Finn’s things while Jon helped him complete the necessary paperwork. As she shoved his clothes into the white plastic bag, she felt a presence behind her. She turned and Nicolas stood before her.
Her heart caught in her chest and she flew into his arms, burying her face into his chest. “Thank god,” she whispered. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Nicolas did not embrace her back, instead remaining rigid, his arms held stiffly at his sides. Stubbornly slow to accept his indifference, she finally pulled back. The expression on his face pierced her heart.
“I came to say goodbye,” Nicolas said. His voice was flat and void of emotion. His eyes were just as cold and distant. He took another step back, putting more distance between them.
“I guess my father told you I’m staying then,” she said. Her heart was racing; she knew this wasn’t what he meant with his goodbye, but she couldn’t bear to hear what she knew was coming next.
“I don’t give a fuck what you do anymore, to be honest, Ana.”
The tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill. This was real; it was happening. This was her punishment for her actions. It wasn’t the punishment she expected, but it was no less deserved.
Ana felt her sacred control slipping away. “Nicolas, I didn’t do it to hurt you-“
“Fuck you. You might not have done it to hurt me, but you knew it would and you did it anyway.” He laughed brutally, running his shaking hands through his dark hair. “I’ve always bent over backwards to accommodate your feelings and I’ve never asked you to do anything for me. Ever. But if I expected loyalty from anyone, it was you.”
“This had nothing to do with you!" She moved toward him but he pulled back, flinching.
"It had EVERYTHING to do with me!" Nicolas thundered.
His words hung heavy between them, as well as all the other ones left unspoken. The beeping sound from the monitor in the next room pulsed in Ana's ears.
"Have you asked yourself why you're so hurt by this?" She asked quietly. She realized she did not want his answer, though she continued blindly anyway. "I have wronged your sister, and in a way, I have wronged Oz, by being an equal party to hurting Adrienne. I've certainly wronged myself through my terrible judgment. But you're the only one in this whole situation that was not wronged, yet here you are acting as if I've betrayed you!"
Nicolas took a deep breath. “You could have fucked anyone in the world, Ana, and I’d have sat by your side and laughed and cheered you on. I knew those assholes never meant anything to you. But you had feelings for Oz. Hell, maybe you still love him? Please, don’t tell me, because I really don’t fucking want to know. Were you just pushing me to see what it would take to break me?"
“It wasn’t like that,” Ana said; the tears were flowing now, streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t have the energy to fight it. “I’ve made some really messed up decisions, but this had nothing to do with you.”
He laughed, and it was a cruel, cold sound that pierced her heart. “We’re all fucked up. That is such a bullshit excuse for doing fucked up shit. Both of you seem to think you can just do whatever the fuck you want and it will be okay because you’re just really messed up and obviously that makes it all right!”
“I didn’t say it was okay,” she cried. "But why are you so hurt by this? Have you stopped to ask yourself why you're so hurt when in fact I've done absolutely nothing to YOU?"
"You are not going to play dumb with me," Nicolas said, through gritted teeth. "Damn you, Ana, we have been close for too long for you to pretend you don't fucking know."
Ana didn't want to think about what his words meant. She wanted to feel his comforting arms around her. She longed for everything to be okay again. Suddenly she saw him again in that pink shirt he wore to her graduation; his goofy, warm smile. I will always be here for you, Muffins.
She fell at his feet then, tugging at his hands. She did not care how desperate or ridiculous she looked. “I love you! I am so sorry, I never, ever meant to hurt you…”
Nicolas pushed her off, and she tumbled back on to the ground. “It took me years to realize this, but you don’t give a shit about me. You ruined the only friendship that ever mattered to me,
and you…” His voice trailed off. He drew a deep, stabilizing breath. “You’re the most self-absorbed piece of work I have ever met, and I deserve so much better than this.”
Ana was on her knees, the tears streaming down her face, looking up at him. “You know that isn’t true. You know I would do anything for you.”
“Get up off the ground, you look pathetic,” he spat, and turned away, disgusted.
She pulled herself up in shame, moving to stand in front of him again. She searched his face for any signs of warmth, of the old Nicolas. She found none.
“I want you and Oz both to leave me alone. Don’t call me wanting to talk about whatever ridiculous shit is bothering you at the moment. Don't drop by. Don't invite me to family reunions.” Nicolas moved closer then, and she cringed, as if afraid he was going to strike her. He laughed. “How long have you known me? Would I really hit you? Fuck’s sake, Ana.”
“I didn’t think–“ she started to say, and then stopped herself. He didn’t want to hear her whimpering and her pandering. This would be her last chance to say the things she wanted to say. She should not waste it. “I can't say I understand your feelings, or your hatred. You are wrong when you say I never cared about you. I’ve always needed you. And I’ve always loved you.” She reached her hand out and touched his arm. He looked at her hand the way he might look at a mosquito that had the audacity to land on him.
“Whether you do or not is irrelevant,” he snapped. She dropped her hand. “I almost hate myself as much as I hate you. It’s my own fault for loving you so fucking much. It’s not natural…”
Oh, Nic, why did you have to say it out loud? Why couldn’t we have gone our whole lives without addressing it? Now it can never be unsaid.
“Please don’t go,” she croaked, but the plea was weak. There was nothing she could say, after that admission. I love you, but not like that. I need you, but not the way you need me.
The Storm and the Darkness Page 26
