by Rose, Aubrey
“Brynn…”
“Don’t. Don’t leave. Eliot.” He rose from the bench and I rose with him, still grasping his hand. I couldn’t let him fall away from me so easily.
“Brynn, I can’t—”
“You can’t leave. Please.” I tilted my head up to look him straight in the eyes, and something in his expression softened. “Please?”
I could not have guessed what he would do next. Standing there on the bank of the Danube, he pulled me to his chest and bent his head down. His lips were hot on mine, and I could feel dampness on his cheeks. A flash of heat struck through my nerves, and I clutched at his arms, pushing back into his kiss with a wild insistence. Eliot met my passion with his own, pressing kiss after kiss onto my lips until I was breathless with want.
The first time Eliot kissed me he felt soft, gentle. Not now. Now he pressed his lips hard against mine, his arms crushing me into his chest. It was as though his body echoed my frustrations, my desires, my needs. Eyes closed, I saw nothing but flashes of white light, like snowflakes dancing on the lids of my eyes in the darkness. When he pulled away he cradled my face in his hands, his long fingers pressed to my skin and his eyes searched mine, for what I did not know.
“Brynn. Believe me, I would not leave if I didn’t have to. But I can’t stay here.”
My heart broke then, simply broke. I felt the crack go through the center and split me in two. The pure happiness that I had felt abandoned me as quickly as it had come.
“Is it because of her?”
Eliot’s dark eyelashes fluttered, downcast.
“It’s too hard to explain, Brynn.”
Too hard to explain? For hours on end Eliot would shove equations and algorithms into my brain, but one step into emotional territory and he fled, abandoning ship. Too hard to explain? I did not know how to respond. My mouth was dry.
“What about Lucky?” I thought about the kitten still at Eliot’s house. Already my desires were hidden from me. I would shut them up, lock them away, keep them secret and hidden until I forgot about them. Still I cared about the orphan kitten—if not me, then who else? If I could not achieve happiness for myself, I could at least protect the one helpless animal that had come to depend on me. “What will happen to him?”
“Marta has found a good place for him. With some friends in another city. They’re coming by in a few days. I’ll take care of him until then, and after that I’ll be leaving.”
“Can I say goodbye?” I looked up at Eliot, a deeper meaning in my words. He averted his eyes.
“Of course,” he said, having the decency to flush red at his collar. “Of course you can say goodbye.”
Eliot paced in the entryway of his house, waiting for Brynn. Foolishly, he had agreed to let her come to see the cat one last time before Marta’s friends took it away. He could not but think that he should be gone from the house to avoid any mishaps, but of course Brynn wasn’t just coming to see Lucky.
The knock echoed through the emptiness of the house. Eliot set his mouth into a thin smile and opened the door.
Brynn stood outside in a red wool coat, her hands clasped in front of her in gloves, her hair tied up neatly in a bun. The cab pulled off down the driveway, and Eliot watched as the tires made fresh dark tracks in the morning snowfall. Although technically it had been spring for weeks already, Nature had other ideas in mind for that day. A cold front had plummeted the temperatures in Budapest close to freezing, and the clouds which would normally have rained spring showers had instead turned the ground white with a fresh blanket of snow. Brynn wiped the slush off of her boots before stepping in carefully. Her expression was wary as he leaned forward and kissed her on one cheek in greeting, then the other. Her lips did not so much as brush his skin, and he felt her harden under his touch.
He took her coat from her to hang up, and could not help but stare at what she was wearing underneath—a bright red dress with cap sleeves, low-cut. She looked gorgeous, and immediately he was ashamed of his own state of dress—he was barefoot, in a stained shirt and the wrinkled dress pants he had worn the night before. He looked a mess.
“The girls are going out dancing tonight,” Brynn said, in response to his glance. “I thought I’d get dressed before coming over.”
“Is that one of the dresses Marta picked for you?”
Brynn nodded.
“It suits you well,” Eliot said. Well was an understatement. The dress was stunning, a perfect fit to show off Brynn’s curves. The bright red color contrasted with her alabaster skin and her reddened cheeks, made bright by the cold outside, only added to the effect. He yanked his gaze away from her figure.
“It’s cold out here,” she said. “Even colder than in the city.”
“We’re up higher in the mountains,” Eliot said. “The snow is actually staying on the ground.”
“I wish it wouldn’t melt down where we are,” Brynn said. “I’d like to have one walk through the garden again.” Her words stopped abruptly, as though she had just reminded herself of the memory with her and Eliot.
“Marta will be coming by later,” Eliot said, and the topic was mercifully changed back to Lucky’s fate in the hand of Marta’s friends.
They walked back into the kitchen, where Lucky sat contentedly on the counter top. Eliot had given up trying to keep the damn thing off of the tables, but it was beyond him to admit that he enjoyed sharing the last of his milk with the small kitten.
“He’s grown bigger,” Brynn said with a touch of pride, as she petted the kitten’s newly silken coat. “Thanks for taking care of him.”
“He’ll be happy at his new home, I’m sure,” Eliot said.
“I’m sure he will,” Brynn said, her eyes sorrowful. She turned back to Eliot. “And what about you?”
“What about me?”
“Will you be happy back in America?”
Eliot stared at Brynn. She had struck to the heart of the matter. Eliot didn’t know if he could be happy anywhere. The few glimpses of happiness he had seen in the last few years had been with Brynn.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ll have my work.”
“Your work is here with your students,” Brynn said, slightly admonishing.
“Of course,” he said, moving over to the kitten to stroke its head. Lucky purred. “But there is something to be said for solitude in making progress on these things.”
“Really?”
Eliot did not know what to say. She was right, of course. The best part of his work had been done here.
“I can’t stay, Brynn.”
To his surprise, she began to cry. He put his hands on her arms, trying to comfort her.
“I only wanted to come here to see my mother,” Brynn said. “I didn’t care about the prize, I didn’t care about this stupid problem. I didn’t care about you!” She stared up into his face, her eyes flashing darkly in anger.
“Brynn, I’m so sorry,” Eliot said. “But you’ve made so much progress on this problem.”
“I didn’t want any of it,” Brynn said, her words catching on her sobs. Eliot pulled her towards him and she balled her fists against his chest.
“I’m so proud of you. You’ve done so much—”
“It’s not enough!” Brynn’s head tilted back, her eyes wet with tears. “Why did you kiss me?”
Eliot’s heart sank. He couldn’t explain what had drawn him toward her the last time they had met. Pure desire and lack of willpower. Her beautiful face had turned up to his, just like it was now. He felt himself falling back under her spell even now as they stood so close to each other.
“It was a mistake,” he said lamely.
“That’s what you said before!” Brynn pulled away angrily. “That it was just a mistake!”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“Everything isn’t a mistake!” She was furious, her brows slanted angrily above her stormy eyes, and he thought she had never looked so beautiful. “Some things happen for a reason.”
“
I was weak,” Eliot said. “You’re a very lovely girl…”
“That’s it, then? You’re so weak you have to run away from me, leave the country, leave everything here?” Brynn’s voice filled with rage. “I can’t believe it.”
“You’re right,” Eliot said. “I should never have come back.”
“No. You should have come back years ago. You should never have left.” Brynn wiped her tears from her face, crying through her words. “You’re not weak, you’re stupid.”
Eliot was speechless, and Brynn continued to lash out, turning toward the window.
“Look at this. All of this. It’s so beautiful. And you gave it up—why? So that you wouldn’t have to face her death?”
“Brynn—”
“I waited for years to be able to come here,” Brynn said. Her lip quivered as she looked out at the grounds of the estate. The lawn was still covered in a frosting of snow. “I didn’t want anything but to see my mom.”
“It wasn’t your fault—”
“It wasn’t your fault either,” Brynn said. “Marta told me what happened.”
Eliot froze, stricken.
“She had no right to tell you.”
“You weren’t going to tell me,” Brynn said, spinning around toward Eliot accusingly. “You didn’t even tell me you had a wife!”
“She should not have told you.” Eliot’s mind had gone blank, his thoughts spinning around in circles incomprehensibly.
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I couldn’t.”
“You didn’t care about me enough to tell me the truth.”
“Brynn—” Eliot reached out to touch her arm, but she pulled away, backing toward the kitchen door.
“You treat me like a child! Like I don’t deserve to know anything!”
“That’s not true—”
“I can’t just stop caring about you, Eliot!” Brynn’s voice trembled, and Eliot could see the streaks that the tears had left on her cheeks, two damp tracks stained slightly with makeup. “Not when you keep doing this. Not when you leave me and then chase me. Not when you tell me you’re going back to America and then kiss me like you might stay. Please…”
They stood apart from each other. Eliot wanted with all his heart to go to her, to cross the space between them and embrace her body with his. It wouldn’t be right, after all of his efforts to keep her distant, and she deserved more than he could ever give. He forced himself to stay put.
“I’ll call for a cab,” Eliot said quietly. Brynn turned her face away from him and for a moment he thought she might break down into tears again, but when she lifted her face it had hardened into a neutral expression.
“I’ll wait outside,” she said. “I’d like to walk through the snow here one more time. If that’s alright with you.”
Eliot nodded. “Let me get you your coat.”
He went to the entryway to get Brynn’s wool overcoat, each step heavier than the last. Losing Brynn tore at his heart, but he thought that it must be the right thing to do. She could never be happy with such a man as Eliot, distracted and heartsick as he was. His own happiness could not be further from his mind.
When he came back, her red coat draped over his arm, he saw that she had already gone out back. His gaze swept the immediate gardens, but he could not see her. Then he found her trail. Brynn’s footsteps dotted the pathway out toward the forest, dark but already filling back up with snowflakes.
“She must be mad,” Eliot muttered under his breath. He threw the coat down onto the chair and stared out of the window. He might have run after her immediately but for the fact that he was barefoot. He turned to go find his shoes, but then paused.
No. I shouldn’t run after her.
He stood there in indecision. The woods were filled with poachers at this time of the year, and he knew it was dangerous. Still, if she stayed on the trails clearly, her dress should be enough for her to be seen even far off. But it was so cold out there, and she had no coat…
“Enough, Eliot,” he said to himself firmly. She would be fine, and the cab would be only a few minutes anyway. He had made up his mind not to worry, when from the woods and over the frosted lawn came a high-pitched cry.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
He had abandoned me, and I would do what I normally did when I felt lost and alone and abandoned.
I ran.
It was cold, but I did not want my coat. I wanted to feel the aching chill inside of me, the way I had when I first arrived in Hungary. Before the weeks of anticipation and disappointment, before I had turned into someone different. Before emotion strummed my heart and left me vibrating in unreciprocated desire. All anybody wanted was to be understood, and Eliot didn’t understand me. I thought he had, I thought that maybe he could see past the surface and into the deepest cracks, the hidden and imperfect parts of me. Now I fled his gaze. I couldn’t replace the perfect memory of his dead wife.
I stumbled across the field, my feet leaving darkened tracks behind me in the light dusting of snow. Low branches brushed my face, and the wind whistled high above in the trees, promising a storm. My feet brought me closer to the place Eliot had showed me before, the rocks by the stream.
I did not see the doe until I was upon her. Her hind legs kicked as she jumped over the copse and then stopped in her tracks. We had both been running from something and now we stood facing each other across the small clearing. It was only a split second that we stood there, but every interval of time contains within it infinities, and now I felt the world slow down as the doe’s black eyes locked on mine.
The snow was beginning to fall, or had it been falling already? Her tail flickered out and brushed off a dusting of snowflakes from her pelt, the crystals hovering for a moment in the air as though they were weightless.
A high ringing tone pierced my ears, and before I could recognize the sound the arrow shot through the clearing and into the neck of the doe. The shot was true, piercing her pelt cleanly. She took one step forward and stumbled on the next, falling forward on to one knee as though kneeling before me. The sound that escaped her mouth into my ears resembled nothing so closely as a baby's cry. She stumbled and fell, shock in her eyes.
Blood pooled underneath the deer, the snow melting into a bright red pool. Her chest still rose and fell, but her breathing was shallow. Her hind leg kicked in a short spasm.
I stood, frozen in place. Steam rose from the hot pool of blood in the cold air. A chill ran down my spine. I heard the hunter’s footsteps before I could see him, and then he tramped into the clearing, his bow held to one side. His figure loomed large before me, his dark features hidden behind bushy eyebrows and a beard, but it was his eyes that made my blood run cold. For when his gaze fell upon me, it was full of a hard, mean want that I had never seen before. A realization that I was there, and alone, and there was no one around to protect me. It was a hunter's gaze, and he had his sights on new prey.
I did not stop to think. If I had I might have been lost. But there was something in this man’s eyes that drove me back as surely as Eliot's kindness had drawn me toward him. I turned and ran, my feet sliding on the slick carpet of snow just covering the grass.
I heard him behind me, and for one horrible second I thought that he might nock another arrow to his bow and shoot me down like he had the deer. I had desperation on my side, and was gaining ground, but my foot slipped just as I was crossing the small stream and a sharp pain shot up from my ankle, tearing through my entire leg and thigh muscles. I let out a shout and fell, my hands bracing my impact onto the snowy bank. My hands slipped on the icy rock and I tumbled into the shallow stream. My dress soaked through instantly with icy water and I cried out in shock as much as in pain. The chill pierced me through my skin and muscle and my lungs seized up with cold. Blood ran from several cuts on my hands as I tried to scramble up the other side of the riverbank.
He was upon me before I could scream, and as I drew a breath to do so he flipped me face up and cupped one han
d roughly over my mouth, his body shoving mine down into the cold earth. I beat at his chest with my fists, and tried to claw his face with my fingers, but with his free hand he blocked my attempts easily. Blood ran down my palms and wrists and I slipped with slick red fingers as I tried to push him away.
My screams were muffled by his palm. He was suffocating me, his weight pressing on my chest. His free hand moved to unbuckle his belt, leaning forward. I reached out to get at his eyes but he grabbed my wrists and wrenched them above my head, pinning them brutally against the snow. He leaned forward, his eyes like black coals flecked with burning white embers at the edges. I closed my eyes to hide myself from his expression: he was smiling.
Above us in the trees, the wind howled. I thrashed underneath him, my legs sweeping the snow, but I was no match for his size. His breath was hot, the steam filling the air white above my face. It smelled sour, like old coffee, and my heart raced.
I felt something then, something I have never been able to fully explain. The sense that Eliot was watching me came over me. It felt like the sun’s rays bursting through the snowy branches in the morning, the warmth of the day now starting to creep into my chilled skin. I knew he could tell that I was in danger, and I knew he would be there to save me.
This strange feeling of trust that flooded my body made me relax, and the man above me pulled my wrists up tighter, but I did not feel the pain. Drawn back into myself, drawn further away from agony, I felt at peace, like I was hovering above myself, watching a terrible scene unfold that involved some other person. Watching terrible things happen to some character from a legend, and not me at all.
Eliot flew over me in a blur. The heavy shock of his impact made a resounding thud as it knocked the hunter off, and when the two men crashed into the tree next to me snow tumbled down from the shaken branches. I pushed myself sideways, out of the man’s reach. One of my shoes had been knocked off and the toes were white with cold.
