by Peak, Renna
Clara studies the mural for some time before returning to my side. Silently, she slips her hand into mine again, gently squeezing it. “Tell me about her.”
“There is nothing to tell.”
“Nick…” She frowns over at Sara’s section of the mural. “She was quite talented.”
“She’s also not dead.”
“I… I know that.” Clara turns her gaze up to me, though I don’t look down at her to meet it. “I just meant that… I don’t know what I mean.”
“You meant, she is quite talented.” I step toward that part of the mural with Clara at my side, still gripping my hand tightly. “It’s a tribute to spring, her favorite season.”
“I…” I can almost feel Clara’s grin beside me without looking at her. “I’ll take it. That’s more than you’ve shared about her before—”
“What do you want me to tell you, Clara?” I finally look down at her. “I still fail to see how any of this is relevant.”
“It’s relevant because she was important to you.” She pauses. “Is important to you.” She lets out a little huff. “It’s important because you’re still a little in love with her.”
“You truly believe that?” I can’t help but shake my head. “After everything we’ve shared? After everything we’ve shared today?”
“Nick…” She tilts her head. “A little hot sex doesn’t really mean anything—”
“Are you joking?” My tone has become a bit icier than I intended. I pull my hand from hers. “Have you honestly no idea what you mean to me?”
“Nick…” She repeats my name on a sigh. “We come here and you freeze. It’s like you were transported to somewhere else. Someone else.” She shakes her head. “We don’t have to do this now. But you definitely need to admit to yourself that you’re still in love with her—”
“I am NOT still in love with her!” It almost sounds as though I’ve roared, and I barely recognize my own voice. “Why do you insist that everything be so melodramatic? Why do you insist that everything be made into some scene—”
“I do not do that!” She gives me a vehement shake of her head. “Nick, what has gotten into you?”
“Nothing that wasn’t always here, Clara.” My gaze narrows—perhaps I’ve been made a fool again after all. “Nothing at all.”
“Oh, I’d agree there’s nothing up there, at least at the moment.” She presses her lips into a line before speaking again. “Why can’t you just admit it? It would make you feel so much better—”
“I have nothing to admit, Clara. I’ve admitted my true feelings to you, and you rebuffed them—”
“I did not rebuff anything, Nick.” She glances around as though someone might be listening, but as it’s the middle of the day, we’re all alone. I’m not even certain where my cousins might have gone.
She continues. “I only…declined…your offer because you still have feelings for this Sara woman. And I can’t just up and marry you if you haven’t admitted that. At least to yourself—”
“What do you want me to do?” I look around the area, spotting a nearby table. I walk over to it, climbing on top of it before I make a grand, sweeping gesture toward Clara. “Is this better, Clara? Will this do?”
She looks around again, glancing over her shoulder before she walks toward me. “Get down from there, Nick,” she says, her voice hushed. “You’re making a fool—”
“Isn’t that what you want, Clara? What you need? A man to make a fool of himself for you?” I’m able to see nearly the entire area from this vantage, and there are only a few people on the other side of the square—too far away to hear in all likelihood. My cousins seem to have left altogether.
I look down at Clara before making another theatrical gesture toward her. “Lovely Clara, who requires her adorers to stand on a stage before all humanity and profess their love for her—”
“Get. Down,” she says through clenched teeth.
“Darling Clara, who cannot believe any man might truly love her unless he makes a bloody fool of himself. Isn’t that right, my love?”
The slow shake of her head should warm me that I’m in trouble, but there’s no way I’m going to stop now.
“Good citizens of Wintervale—citizens of Montovia…” I can’t help but get that last bit in, even though there are few around to hear it. “I stand before you today to profess my love and adoration for this woman…” I gesture toward her again. “And renounce any emotional attachment I may have had for any others at any moment in my life. Because, good people…” I truly do not know what has gotten into me, only that I’m in so deep now that I cannot seem to stop. “Because, good people of Montovia…” I exaggerate the name of my country a bit too much again. “No man—and I do mean no man—is allowed to have ever loved another if he should have Clara’s hand.”
“You. Are. An. Idiot—”
The arrival of a man from nearby interrupts her. His neat attire leads me to believe he’s likely in charge of something, some nearby business, perhaps.
His brow furrows as he looks at Clara. “Is everything quite all right?”
“No, everything is not quite all right.” She looks up at me, motioning with her head in my direction. “My…companion…seems to have lost his mind.”
“Oh, Clara, if only I had lost my mind,” I say, still a bit more theatrical than is appropriate. “I have not lost my mind at all, unless you count the fact that I’ve fallen madly in love with you. That, I suppose could qualify.”
The man stares up at me, his mouth dropping open as he begins to recognize me. “Your Highness…”
“Good sir, if you would give us leave, I have much more to pronounce to the beautiful Clara—”
“No,” she interrupts. “You’re done, Nick. I don’t know what you had to drink with your bread—”
“I’m not inebriated or in any way incapacitated. Not at all.” I make a sweeping motion with my hands again, somehow getting my second wind. “I’m merely here today to announce in the manner befitting the woman standing before me that I have fallen in love with her. And of course, that announcement must be made in a grand manner. A dramatic manner. The only manner in which she seems able to hear anyone speaking to her—”
She marches away from me, and I hop off the table, following her.
“Clara…”
She ignores me, walking straight for the roadway.
“Miss…” The manager-type man follows us both.
I’m not sure which of us it is that makes her stop, but she does, turning on her heel to face me. She places her hands on her hips, glaring at me with a ferocity that I’ve never seen in her eyes.
“First of all…” She glances over at the man beside me. “That will be all.”
“I…” He dips his head, backing away from us. “Yes, my lady.”
My lips tug into almost a smile—her dismissal of the man was almost…regal. And it sends a shockwave through me that I can’t remember feeling before.
“You can’t do this, Nick.”
I feel my brow furrow. “Do what? Announce to the world that I love you?”
Her gaze narrows. “You know exactly what. You can’t turn this around to be about me.”
“It is about you, though.” I shake my head. “I don’t know how to make you see—”
“I don’t know how to make you see. Nick… Get it through that thick skull of yours.”
“I’m sorry, Clara. I don’t understand.” I motion toward the table I was just standing upon. “I know it was silly, but it was all true—”
“Oh, I don’t doubt it was true.” She shakes her head at me again. “And I also don’t doubt for one single second that you are still in love with Sara.”
Clara
I feel like we keep having the same argument over and over again. But if he doesn’t get it now, I’m not sure he ever will.
Caspar suddenly appears at my elbow. He and his brothers always seem to show up again at the worst moment. Or the best, depending on
how you look at it. Benedict and Xavier hang back, letting their brother take the lead.
“Why don’t we stroll down to the creek?” Caspar says. “I think you might enjoy the view.”
Nick is scowling at both of us. But as frustrated as I am with him, I don’t want to make this any worse.
“Maybe we should go to the creek,” I say softly. “Or at least stop causing a scene.”
Nick glances around, then nods, apparently seeing sense for once.
It’s a quiet, somber group of us that heads down the cobblestoned street toward the bubbling creek. Even the cheery storefronts we pass can’t lighten my mood very much. What will it take for Nick to see how much this hurts? I’m not sure if I actually believe he’s still in love with Sara, but holding on to any lingering anger, resentment, or hurt is just as bad. And his refusal to talk about her, combined with his intense reactions whenever her name comes up, mean there’s something going on. Something that will eat away at him—and eat away at what he and I have between us—until he faces it.
I don’t know how to fix this. I should, given that I only recently called off an engagement to another man, but the truth is that things were never that intense with Adam—not on my end, anyway. I feel plenty of guilt, sure. And I was angry at the way he handled things there at the end—from the impromptu wedding to the threatening drunken phone call—but for the most part, I’ve already moved on. There’s only one man in my eyes now. Why can’t Nick see that?
“Here we are,” Benedict announces, spreading his arms.
We’ve reached the creek. An arched bridge painted in blue and white spans the bubbling water, and Benedict leads us out onto it. Despite my frustration toward Nick, I find myself looking around with curiosity.
A couple of other people linger on the bridge, throwing crumbs down to the ducks bobbing on the water below. Just down the shore, a man fishes in the shallow water, and beyond him, half a dozen kids are playing tag in the grass. There’s an entire park on the far shore, with swing sets and slides for the kids and gardens and fountains for the adults. I think I even spot a soccer field in the distance.
It’s all very peaceful and happy. Idyllic, really. It’s nothing like the quiet beauty of Montana, but it’s gorgeous in its own way. And I’m still having a hard time wrapping my head around why someone would give up a place like this to move halfway around the world.
“I have an idea,” Caspar says.
“No contests,” Nick replies immediately. “No bets.”
Caspar grins. “You have no idea what I was going to say.”
“I know exactly what you were going to say,” Nick says. “And the answer is no.”
“Oh, be a sport,” Caspar says. “I hardly beat you at darts. Who knows? Maybe this time you’ll have better luck. I was thinking that perhaps we’d—”
“No,” Nick says firmly. “Absolutely not.”
In spite of myself, I find myself biting back a smile. It doesn’t matter how old men get—they’ll still manage to act like children sometimes.
I guess that’s my cue to step in.
“Why don’t you fellows show me around that park?” I say, pointing. “It looks so pretty.”
“I think that’s a splendid idea, Clara,” Benedict says, offering me his elbow. “May I lead the way?”
I politely decline his arm. No one else argues as I cross the bridge and stride toward the pretty little rows of flowers.
There are a handful of other people walking around on this beautiful day. Some parents chat with each other as they push their children on the swings. A couple strolls among the roses, stopping now and then to lean down and smell some of the blossoms. A young family has spread a picnic out on the grass.
After walking for a little while, I fall back next to Nick. He glances at me out of the corner of his eye. I slide my arm through his.
“I don’t want to argue with you, you know,” I tell him quietly. “I just want you to be happy. You know that, right?”
He takes a moment to answer, but when he does, his tone is gentle. “I know. But I also need you to trust me.”
Easier said than done. But I smile up at him. “I’ll try.”
“I suppose that’s about as good as I can expect right now.”
“It is.” I hold in my sigh. If he’s in denial about his feelings, then he’s never going to resolve all of this. But I really want to have faith that he’ll figure it out, one way or another. I’ll drive myself crazy otherwise.
We walk for some time, arm in arm, following behind his cousins. Occasionally, Caspar, Xavier, and Benedict will pause and speak with people we pass. The citizens of Wintervale seem to know the brothers well, and the brothers genuinely seem to enjoy the conversation. I’m pretty sure Nick notices all this, too, but he doesn’t say anything, so I don’t bring it up. He obviously has some things he needs to work out in his own mind.
Instead, I just decide to enjoy myself—to revel in the feeling of the breeze on my skin, to enjoy the fragrant scent of flowers in the air, to delight in the birds singing overhead. Benedict leads us onto a long, packed dirt path between two rows of huge, sweeping trees, their wide branches offering delectably cool shade, and I’m loving every minute of it.
We’re been strolling down the tree-lined path for a few minutes before Benedict stops abruptly. Xavier nearly trips over him.
Benedict suddenly twists around. “Why don’t we all head back to the Spotted Goat? I’m getting thirsty.”
His brothers look genuinely confused by this sudden change in plans.
“I suppose we could go…” Caspar says. “But why are you—” His voice cuts off as he glances up the path.
What the heck is going on? I lean around Caspar, trying to see what he’s looking at up ahead. It’s just the same tree-lined path we’ve been walking for the last ten minutes. In the distance, a couple has just rounded the bend, and they’re walking in our direction, chatting with each other. Nothing looks out of the ordinary.
“Come on,” Benedict says with forced cheerfulness. “Last one there has to buy everyone else’s drinks.”
No one budges. And I notice that Caspar and Xavier are both watching Nick intently.
Nick, on the other hand, is looking straight and the other couple. And his grip on my arm is suddenly uncomfortably tight.
Nicholas
My stomach clenches when I spot the pair. I realize with a start that I’m squeezing Clara’s arm far too tightly, and I release her.
She looks between the couple on the path and me before she speaks in a hushed voice. “That’s her, isn’t it?”
I can’t seem to take my eyes off the couple, though my gaze narrows. “Yes, Clara. That’s her.”
“Nick…” She takes my hand in hers, giving it a squeeze.
“Come, Cousin.” Caspar claps me on the shoulder before turning me around to walk in the opposite direction. “No need to cause a scene in the park.”
“I wasn’t about to cause a scene.” Though what I’m saying is true, I allow myself to be guided away from the situation.
“Of course you weren’t.” Caspar gives me a knowing—almost sympathetic—smile. “It’s past time that we return to the manor at any rate. It will be supper time before we know it.”
He’s being ridiculous, making up such an excuse. It’s barely past lunchtime, and the walk back to the manor is less than half an hour. Still, I can’t help but be grateful that my cousin seems to understand the situation at hand.
“I think…I think you should talk to her.” Clara’s voice comes from beside me, her hand still in mine. “Nick, it’s time to face her. Get her out of your system.”
“Clara…” Caspar almost winces. “Perhaps Nicholas should explain matters to you—”
“As I’ve already told Clara, there is nothing to explain.” I glare over at my cousin as our pace quickens. “I’ve nothing left to say about the matter—”
“You should tell her.” Caspar presses his lips into a line before
motioning to his brothers. “We’ll meet you back at the manor. Perhaps you and Clara should take the long way back.” Before I can protest, the three of them quickly make their way to the sidewalk.
“I think you should face her. Seriously, Nick. It’s the only way—”
“No.” I turn to Clara, looking down at her. “It might be your way. But it isn’t mine.” I quicken our pace, though a glance over my shoulder tells me Sara and her husband have already turned and begun walking in the opposite direction as well. I slow our pace, turning back to Clara. “I wish you would trust me. I am not still in love with her.”
“You say that.” She shakes her head. “But I see the way you act when anyone so much as mentions her. And just now…” She glances over her shoulder. “It looked like you wanted to puke.”
I don’t want to admit it to myself, but I did feel like I might vomit. I can’t explain why—only that a small voice inside me still whispers that this should have been my life. I should be the one walking with my wife in Wintervale. I should be the one with a new child born from the love of my life.
One look in Clara’s eyes and I know that I’ve found part of the missing piece of my life. And perhaps she isn’t completely wrong—perhaps I do need to confront Sara at some point. We did leave things a bit undone, but I fail to see how discussing it now will change anything. She made her choice—and I should probably thank her for it. I never would have met Clara if she hadn’t left me, but there’s still a part of me that hasn’t completely healed. Why can’t Clara understand that? She’s been through something so similar recently. It isn’t as though ripping off a scab will help me to heal that wounded part of me, just like it won’t help her.
“Tell me.” She’s almost whispering. “Tell me what happened.”
My brow furrows as I gaze down at her, and I give her a small shake of my head. “Why must you be so difficult about this?”
“I’m not trying to be difficult, Nick. I’m really not.” I can hear the honesty in her tone, but I still don’t understand why she must know every sordid little detail of what happened.
