One Night: Unveiled

by Jodi Ellen Malpas

  ‘Thank you.’ I take a long swig and cast my eyes around the bar, grateful that Carl is no longer here. A quick look at my phone tells me it’s only noon. It feels like this morning has been dragging out over years, but the thought of seeing Nan and taking her home in a few hours lifts my tired mood.

  I feel myself relax under the peaceful surroundings of the bar and my continuous sips of wine . . . until that feeling – the one I haven’t felt since before we left for New York – is suddenly bombarding me. Chills. Prickling chills jumping onto my shoulders, and then the raised neck hair joins them. Reaching up and stroking the back of my neck, I glance to the side, seeing nothing unusual, only men sipping from tumblers, talking quietly, and a woman seated on the stool next to me. I brush off the tingling sensations and sip some more.

  The barman approaches, smiling as he passes to attend to the lady. ‘Hendrick’s, please,’ she orders, her soft, husky voice dripping with sex, just how I remember most of William’s women sounded. It’s like they’ve taken lessons in perfecting the art of verbal seduction, even something as simple as ordering a drink sounding erotic. Despite the reminder, I smile to myself, and I have no idea why. Maybe because I know for sure that I never sounded like that.

  I take my wine to my lips, watching as the barman pours and passes the lady her glass before turning my back slightly to get the entrance of the bar into view, waiting for Miller and William to appear. How long will they be? Are they still alive? I try to stop worrying, finding it easy when all of those unwanted sensations return, making me turn slowly, automatically.

  I find the woman facing me, her glass held lightly in her dainty fingers.

  Fingers like mine.

  My heart catapults up to my head and explodes, scattering millions of memories into a haze that floats before me. The visions are clear. Too clear.

  ‘My baby girl,’ she whispers.

  Chapter 15

  The smash of my glass as it drops from my lifeless hand and clashes with the floor doesn’t even rip our eyes apart.

  Sapphire on sapphire.

  Sorrow on shock.

  Mother on daughter.

  ‘No,’ I whimper, falling to my feet from the stool and backing away on unstable legs. ‘No!’ I whirl around to escape, dizzy, shaking and breathless, but crash into a huge chest. I feel strong palms circle my upper arms, and I look up to find Carl assessing my distraught face with worried eyes. It only confirms that what I think I just saw is real. The evil guy looks apprehensive – a look that doesn’t suit him at all.

  Tears burst from my tortured eyes as he holds me in place, anxious vibes shooting from his big body into me. ‘Fucking hell,’ he growls. ‘Gracie, what the fuck are you playing at?’

  The mention of my mother’s name injects life into my numb body. ‘Let me go!’ I scream, and buck in Carl’s hold, distressed and panicked. ‘Please, let me go!’

  ‘Olivia?’ Her voice seeps into the corners of my mind, prompting a barrage of lost memories to attack me. ‘Olivia, please.’

  I hear her voice from when I was a small child. I hear her humming lullabies, feel her soft fingers stroking my cheek. I see her back for the last time walking out of Nan’s kitchen. It’s all confusing me. Her face has spiked it all. ‘Please,’ I beg, turning my welling eyes up to Carl, my voice trembling, my heart choking me. ‘Please.’

  His lips straighten and every possible emotion plays like a camera roll across the evil guy’s face – sorrow, sadness, guilt, anger. ‘Fuck,’ he curses, and I’m suddenly being pulled behind the bar. He smashes his fist on a concealed button behind a shelf full of spirits, and the whole building is suddenly screaming, alarm bells ringing so loudly around us, making everyone jump up from their chairs. The hype of activity is instant, and the unbearable sound is strangely soothing. He’s drawing the attention of everyone, but I know he wants just one man here.

  ‘Olivia, baby.’

  I feel an electric shock fly through my body as her soft touch meets my arm. It has my small frame bucking again in Carl’s hold, except this time I manage to free myself.

  ‘Gracie, leave her!’ Carl roars as I bolt from behind the bar, my legs instantly numb from the speed I’ve achieved so quickly. I can think of nothing except escaping. Get out of here. Run away. I make it to the bar door and take the corner quickly, just catching her coming after me, but then William appears from nowhere and blocks her.

  ‘Gracie!’ William’s tone is oozing threat as he fights to hold her back. ‘You stupid woman!’

  ‘Don’t let her go!’ she yells. ‘Please, don’t let her go!’ I can hear the anguish in her voice, see the terror on her beautiful face as it disappears from my view when I round the corner. I can see it. But I don’t feel it. I can only feel my own hurt, anger, confusion, and I can’t cope with any of it. I return my focus forward and pelt for the doors that’ll take me away from this hellhole, but I’m suddenly not moving anymore, and the sensation of my legs working but the door not coming any closer takes a while to sink in past the distress consuming me.

  ‘Olivia, I’m here.’ Miller’s soothing words are whispered quietly into my ear, but however hushed they are, I hear him perfectly over the screaming alarms and frantic activity around me. ‘Shhhh.’

  I whimper and turn, throwing my arms around him and holding on for dear life. ‘Help me,’ I sob into his shoulder. ‘Take me away, please.’ I feel my feet leave the ground, feel myself held secure against his chest.

  ‘Shhhh.’ He cups the back of my head, pushing my face into the comfort of his neck as he starts to pace away. His strides are purposeful. I can feel the panic in me beginning to subside, just from being immersed in his thing. ‘We’re leaving, Olivia. I’m getting you away from here.’

  My dead muscles come to life under his fierce hold of me and his calming tones, and I squeeze my appreciation, no words forming to voice it. I’m vaguely aware of the blaring sirens cutting abruptly, but I’m more than aware of footsteps pounding behind us. Two pairs of pounding feet. And neither are Miller’s.

  ‘Don’t take her away from me!’

  I swallow hard and push my face farther into Miller’s neck as he ignores my mother’s demand and marches on.

  ‘Gracie!’ William’s bellow dilutes the stamping of feet, making Miller’s stride falter slightly, but my head shaking into him soon kicks him back into top gear. ‘Gracie, damn it! Leave her!’

  ‘No!’

  We’re suddenly jerked to a stop and Miller growls, swinging around to confront my mother. ‘Let go of my arm,’ he hisses, his tone bursting with the same level of threat that I’ve heard him use on others. The fact that this woman is my mother is of no consequence to Miller. ‘I won’t repeat myself.’ He remains still, obviously waiting for her to let go rather than yanking himself from her grip.

  ‘I’m not letting you take her.’ Gracie’s resolute voice puts the fear of God in me. I can’t face her. I don’t want to face her. ‘I need to talk to her. Explain so many things.’

  Miller begins to pulsate against me, and it’s in this moment I fully comprehend my situation. He’s looking at my mother. He’s looking at the woman who abandoned me. ‘She’ll talk to you when she’s ready,’ he says quietly, but there’s no mistaking the warning laced in his words. ‘If she’s ready.’

  I feel his face turn into the side of my head and his lips push into my hair, breathing in deeply. He’s reassuring me. He’s telling me I’m going to be doing nothing that I don’t want to do. And I love him so much for it.

  ‘But I need to talk to her now.’ Determination is rife in her tone. ‘She needs to know—’

  Miller loses it in the blink of an eye. ‘Does she look ready to talk to you?’ he roars, making me jump in his arms. ‘You abandoned her!’

  ‘I had no choice.’ My mother’s words are shaky, her emotion obvious. Yet I feel no empathy, and I wonder right now if that makes me inhuman. Heartless. No, I have a heart, and it’s pounding in my chest right now, reminding me of he
r cruel actions all those years ago. My heart has no room for Gracie Taylor. It’s too consumed by Miller Hart.

  ‘We all have choices,’ Miller says, ‘and I’ve made mine. I’d walk through the bowels of hell for this girl, and I am. You didn’t. That’s what makes me worthy of her love. That’s what makes me deserve her.’

  My sobs return full force as a result of his admission. Knowing he loves me fills the emptiness within me with pure, powerful gratitude. Hearing him confirm that he thinks he’s worthy of my love makes it all overflow.

  ‘You self-righteous arsehole,’ Gracie seethes, that Taylor sass flying up to support her.

  ‘Gracie, darling,’ William pipes up.

  ‘No, Will! I left to prevent her from being subjected to the depravity I faced. I’ve skipped from country to country for eighteen years, killing myself on a daily basis that I couldn’t be with her. That I couldn’t be a mum! I’ll be damned if he’s going to strut into her life and toss every painful moment I’ve endured all these years to shit!’

  That statement registers loud and clear through my crippling agony. Her pain? Her fucking pain? My need to jump from Miller’s arms and slap her face sends me momentarily dizzy with anger, but Miller pulls a long, steady breath of air and flexes his arm around my waist, distracting me from my intention. He knows. He knows what those words have done to me. He shifts a palm to the back of my leg and tugs in a sign for me to respond, so I wrap my thighs around his waist in acknowledgement, and maybe for my mother’s benefit.

  This is all I need. He’s not giving me up and I’m not letting him go. Not even for my mother.

  ‘She’s mine,’ Miller states coolly, calmly, and confidently. ‘Not even you will rob her from me.’ His almost unreasonable promise fills me with hope. ‘Take me on, Gracie. I fucking dare you.’ He turns and strides out of the Society, me coiled around him like a scarf – a tightly knotted scarf that will never be undone.

  ‘You have to let go now,’ Miller murmurs into my hair when we reach his car, but I answer only by squeezing him tightly and moaning into his hair. ‘Olivia, come on now.’

  Sniffing back my subsiding tears, I peel my wet face from his neck, keeping my eyes on the sodden collar of his crisp white shirt. My makeup has rubbed off on it. There’s mascara and pink blush mixed and embedded into the expensive material. ‘It’s ruined,’ I sigh. I don’t need to see him to know a frown has just appeared on his handsome face.

  ‘It’s fine,’ he replies, confusion rich in his tone, confirming my previous thought. ‘Here, jump down.’

  I relent and detach myself from his tall frame with his assistance, then stand before him, eyes dropped, not wanting to face his perplexity. He’ll demand an elaboration on my nonchalance. I don’t want to elaborate, and no amount of demanding will make me. So it’s simply easier to avoid his probing stare. ‘Let’s go get Nan,’ I practically sing, pivoting and making for the passenger side, leaving Miller behind, unquestionably confused. I don’t care. As far as I’m concerned, what just happened never happened. I slip into the seat and shut the door, making fast work of getting my belt on. I’m dying to get to Nan, desperate to take her home and start helping with her recuperation.

  I ignore the heat of his eyes on me when he slips in beside me, choosing to reach forward and flick the stereo on instead. I smile when M83’s “Midnight City” blasts from all of the speakers. Perfect.

  After a good few seconds have passed and Miller still hasn’t started his car, I finally pluck up the courage to face him. I smile brighter. ‘Chop-chop.’

  He barely contains his recoil. ‘Livy, what . . .’

  I reach up and push my fingertips to his lips, immediately shutting him up. ‘No them, Miller,’ I start, tracing my way to his throat when I’m certain he’ll let me continue without interruption. His Adam’s apple rolls under my touch when he gulps. ‘Just us.’ I smile and watch as his eyes narrow in uncertainty, his head moving from side to side slowly. Then he returns my smile with a small one of his own and takes my hand to his mouth and kisses it tenderly.

  ‘Us,’ he confirms, broadening my smile. I nod my thanks and reclaim my hand, getting comfortable in the leather seat, my head dropped back, my eyes staring up at the ceiling. I do an incredible job of centring my thoughts on one thing and one thing alone.

  Nan.

  Seeing her lovely face, listening to her spunky words, feeling her squidgy body when I take her in a fierce hug, and relishing in the time I’ll get to spend with her while she’s recovering. It’s my job. No one else’s. No one else gets the pleasure of all of those things. Just me. She’s mine.

  ‘For now I’ll respect your request,’ Miller muses as he turns the engine over, and I look out the corner of my eye to see him doing exactly the same to me. I quickly divert my stare forward, ignoring his words and his look, which tells me I’m not going to be basking in ignorance for long. I know this, but for now I have the perfect distraction and I’m going to throw myself into it completely.

  The hospital is horribly hot and stuffy, but crazily a source of calm. My feet march on with resolve, like my body has cottoned on to my ploy and is assisting me in reaching the object of my distraction plan without delay. Miller hasn’t said a word since we pulled away from the Society. He’s left me to my thoughts, which have been blocking anything that may tarnish the elation I’m depending on once I lay my eyes on my grandmother. His palm is wrapped securely around my nape as he walks beside me, his finger kneading softly into my flesh. I love how he knows what I need, and I need this. Him. And Nan. Nothing else.

  We round the corner into Cedar Ward, and I immediately hear the distant cackling of Nan, making that elation I was depending on soar. My pace picks up, eager to make it to her, and when I enter the bay of beds where I know her to be, every lost piece of me clicks right back into place. She’s sitting in her chair, fully dressed in her Sunday best, with her huge carpetbag resting on her lap. And she’s hooting bursts of laughter at the TV. I relax under Miller’s hold and stand watching her for the longest time, until her old navy eyes pull from the screen and find me. They’re all watery from her laughter, and she reaches up and brushes the hysterical tears away from her cheeks.

  Then her smile disappears and she scowls at me, making my delight run and hide and my happy heart quicken, but now in worry. Does she know something? Is it written all over my face? ‘About time!’ she squawks, aiming the remote control at the screen and zapping it off.

  Her harshness restores that happiness in a second, and my fears that she may know something is off disappear. She must never know. I refuse to risk her health further. ‘I’m a half hour early,’ I say, taking Miller’s wrist and lifting it to look at his watch. ‘They said four.’

  ‘Well, I’ve been sitting here getting a numb arse for the past hour.’ She frowns. ‘Have you cut your hair?’

  ‘Just a trim.’ I reach up and pat it down.

  She goes to stand, and Miller disappears from my side quickly, taking the bag from her and offering his hand. She pauses and looks up at him, her irritation being replaced with an impish grin. ‘Such a gentleman,’ she gushes, laying her wrinkled hand in Miller’s. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome,’ Miller replies, bowing as he helps her up. ‘How are you feeling, Mrs Taylor?’

  ‘Perfect,’ she answers surely, steadying herself on her feet. She’s not perfect at all; she’s a little wobbly on her feet, and Miller’s quick flick of his eyes to me tells me he’s noticed it, too. ‘Take me home, Miller. I’ll make you beef Wellington.’

  I scoff my thoughts on that and glance to my right when the ward nurse appears with a paper bag. ‘Your grandmother’s medication.’ She smiles as she hands it to me. ‘Your grandmother knows what pills and when, but I also went over it with her son.’ The nurse blushes.

  ‘Her son?’ I blurt, my eyes widening.

  ‘Yes, the lovely man who’s here twice a day every day.’

  I swing around and find Miller looking as confus
ed as I am and Nan smirking from ear to ear. She bursts into a helpless fit of giggles, bending slightly as Miller holds her arm. ‘Oh bless you, dear. He’s not my son.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ the nurse says, now joining Miller and me in the confusion department. ‘I assumed . . . well, I just assumed.’

  Nan gains a little composure and straightens out, rolling her eyes and threading her arm through Miller’s. ‘William is an old family friend, dear.’

  I’m scoffing again but rein it in when Nan throws an inquisitive look my way. An old family friend? Seriously? My mind is sprinting, yet I do an incredible job of preventing my mouth from blurting questions left, right, and centre. I don’t want to know. I’ve just left the old family friend back at the Society, holding back my mo— ‘Are you ready?’ I ask, keen to put this little misunderstanding to rest.

  ‘Yes, Livy. I’ve been ready for an hour,’ she bites back, her lips pursing as she turns her sour eyes onto the nurse. ‘This is my granddaughter’s boyfriend,’ Nan announces, louder than necessary, like she’s showcasing him to the whole ward – the proverbial trophy on her arm. ‘Handsome bugger, isn’t he?’

  ‘Nan!’ I gasp, blushing on Miller’s behalf. ‘Stop it!’

  The nurse smiles and backs away slowly. ‘Bed rest for a week, Mrs Taylor.’

  ‘Yes, yes.’ She dismisses the nurse and nods to Miller. ‘He has great buns.’

  I choke, Miller chuckles, and the nurse burns bright red as her eyes fight to drop in the area of Miller’s buns, but I’m saved from my grandmother’s crafty behaviour when my mobile starts singing from my bag. Shaking my head in total exasperation, I rifle through and locate it, immediately freezing when I see William’s name illuminating my screen.

  Reject.

  I shove it back in my bag and swing a wary look to Miller’s cheery face when his phone starts shouting from his inside pocket. His smile drops as he catches my look and registers the ringing of his phone. I shake my head subtly, hoping Nan doesn’t catch the silent messages passing between Miller and I, then get mighty mad when he drops Nan’s bag and slowly reaches for his inside pocket. I silently scream at him to leave it, firing continuous looks of warning across the bed, but I’m flat-out ignored and he connects the call. ‘Would you?’ he asks, indicating for me to take over his hold of Nan.