by A. M. Hudson
An old man hobbled from my bedroom, closing the door behind him.
“David?” I rested my book on the coffee table.
“Yes, dear.” He smiled, his weathered, rubbery skin crinkling around his dimple.
“What? What happened?” Not sure whether to laugh or frown, I jumped up and ran a cautious hand over his leathery cheek.
“I’m going to close an account at the bank today—one I opened a long time ago.”
“Why do you have to be old?”
“Because, my love—” his youthful teeth showed with his smile, his sparkling emerald eyes unchanged by age, despite sagging eyelids and grey brows, “—when I placed my possessions in the safe deposit, I looked only twenty, and that was a good fifty or more years ago.”
“How do you look so real?”
“Well, when you’ve been changing your identity for a hundred years, you learn a few tricks.”
“But, I can’t see any joins—even the baldness looks real.” His cheek, as I tugged it, felt like a warm, deflated balloon.
David laughed softly, pulling my hand away. “Well, I wouldn’t be able to convince a bank manager that I’m an eighty-year-old man if I looked fake, would I?”
“Guess not.” I shrugged.
“Now, my beautiful fiancé—” he wiped his thumb over my cheek and smiled fondly at me, “—you stay here and try not stress about tomorrow.”
“You know me,” I said, and he laughed.
“Yes. I know you’ve been worrying about everything too much. But it’s good to see you smile again.”
“How can I not smile? Have you seen you?”
He touched a hand to his back, crouching over his cane. “There is nothing amusing about the elderly, Ara.”
I stifled a giggle. “Except that you, who has never aged a day, play it only too well.”
His hand shook over the nob of the cane, his breathing becoming ragged, strained. “Just you wait, dearie, why, when I was your age—”
I rolled my head back, cackling as he wandered off down the path of a lengthy monologue, his voice unchained from its youthful poise.
“Will you be long, Gramps?”
“No.” He stood taller and looked down at me. “Just have to get something important.”
“What?” I opened the front door for him.
“You’ll see tomorrow.”
“What’s so important about tomorrow?” I grinned mischievously.
“Meet me by the altar at noon and I’ll tell you.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“You’d better.” He dropped a quick kiss to my cheek; I wiped it away, cringing.
“Ew. Your lips feel like sultanas, or. . . dried apricots.”
David shuffled out the front door, slowly. “Lucky we don’t have to face old age then.”
“Yeah, it’s scarier than an evil council of vampires.”
“Later, Ara.” He laughed, then switched into character again, fumbling clumsily with the car keys as a boy rode past on his bike.
“Grandpa?” I called.
He looked up; I pointed to his bowler hat rolling down the street with the wind.
“Oh, fiddlesticks,” he scoffed in an English accent. “We’ve got a runaway.” He chased after the hat, raising his cane in the air. “Come back here, you little scallywag…”
I shook my head, leaving my hundred-and-twenty-year-old fiancé to stumble down the street by himself as I ran for the phone. “Hello,” I chimed.
“Hi, how’s preparations for the big day?” Dad asked.
“Great. We spent all afternoon tying my hair in that stupid hairstyle Emily likes.”
“And how are the boys doing?”
“Well, David’s gone to the bank and Mike’s polishing his shoes.” I grinned at Mike, who offered a vertical thumb. “We’ll be coming over about five, tonight.”
“Good, good, that’s why I was calling.”
I folded my arms, leaning on the wall. “Is that the only reason? Your voice says otherwise.”
“It does?”
“Mr. Thompson, you are transparent, sir.”
He sighed heavily.
“Dad?” I walked into my room and shut the door. “Is something wrong? I mean, you sound kind of weird.”
“I uh—I’m just happy for you, Ara. I get a little choked up sometimes,” his voice deepened. He cleared his throat. “I’m all right, though.”
I sighed, blinking rapidly. “Dad, don’t do the proud-crying-parent-thing, ‘cause then I’ll cry and Mike will come running in wondering what’s happening.”
He laughed. “I’m sorry, honey. But I’m your dad. It’s my job to be sentimental. It’s hard for me to see you growing up.”
I won’t be growing up, Dad, if only you knew that. “It’s a part of life, old man.”
“Yes, and I’m glad it’s a happy one—now you finally get your knight.”
“My knight?”
“You know,” he said calmly, his voice filling with nostalgia while I sat panicking on the other end of the phone, wondering if he’d read my diary, “—when you were a little girl, you wished on every star, praying for a knight in shining armour. I guess, in a lot of ways, David’s been that for you, hasn’t he? I—I think, if he hadn’t come along when he did, I’m not sure you would’ve been okay again after you lost your mum.”
“You’re right. I wouldn’t have.” I smiled, thinking about the boy across the road—how he’d wait for me, a smile on his face, his hair moving in the wind—unnaturally beautiful and unimaginably in love with me. “And he is my knight. It just surprised me that you said it.”
“Why especially me?”
“You know…” I said, “dads aren’t supposed to be clued-in on their daughter’s lives.”
“Well, I’m not like other dads. I’m a teacher, which means I’m trained to know your business.”
I laughed. Not all of it. “Well, I’ll see you in a few hours, Dad. I better go gather my things and put the luggage by the door.”
“What time’s your flight tomorrow?”
“Not sure. David said it was at four, but when I checked the schedule it said one.”
“It better not be one—you’ll miss your own reception.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine, Dad.”
“Okay. Well, we’ll see you soon, Ara-Rose.”
“Love you, Dad.”
“You too, honey.”
Chapter 19
Moonlight filtered in through my open window in a calming blue, lighting the wall where my dresser used to rest. My old bed stayed in place after I officially moved to my new house, and I think Vicki was reluctant to stow it in the attic again after my whiplash turnaround when I suddenly decided not to go to Perth. But in truth, it’s probably more that she’s secretly waiting for me to come home.
I rolled over and shut my eyes tight, searching for the link to the world of dreams under this restless excitement.
“Can’t sleep?” David sprung up suddenly and launched through my window.
“David!” I sat up. “You scared me.”
“Sorry.” He smiled—his secret smile. “Well, it’s much easier to get in here now without that desk in the way.” He jerked his thumb to the empty space under the window.
“What’re you doing here? You’re not supposed to see me ‘til tomorrow.”
“Well.” He looked at his watch. “It’s technically tomorrow, so…” he let the vowel trail off.
“Fine.” I groaned and sat up properly as he perched on the edge of my bed, his weight barely dipping the mattress.
“I have something for you.”
“Is it a sleeping pill?” I asked sarcastically.
He laughed through his nose. “No. It’s something very precious; something I’ve kept hidden away all my life.”
“Well, that’s better than a sleeping pill.”
He placed a velvet bag in his lap, small, about the size of the novel on my bedside, and reached inside to remove a si
lver box. It looked heavy, for something its size, adorned with engraved roses and twisting vines.
“Wow. How old is that?”
“About two hundred years. I kept it locked away safely so that one day, when I found my one, special girl, I could give it to her.”
“Well, she’s a lucky girl. That’s a beautiful gift. But...shouldn’t you be telling her this?”
“Funny.” He shook his head. “But the box isn’t the reason I had to go to the bank today. The main reason is this—” He wound the mechanism at the base of the box then lifted the lid. As the gentle chime of the haunting vampire song I hear in my dreams entered my ears, David spun the box around fully so, in the dull light of my room, I could see the delicate piece of jewellery inside.
“David? That’s so pretty.”
“It was my mother’s—a gift from my father on the day of their wedding.” He lifted the crescent-shaped bangle and pointed to the pearl-coloured stone. “It’s a moonstone.”
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered, feeling a kind of magic in the dark.
“Will you wear it for me?” he asked delicately.
Without words, I rested my hand to the hollow between my collarbones, nodding.
David exhaled through his smile, then cupped his mother’s bangle over my wrist, his touch cooling. The band, only as wide as a finger, sat against my skin firmly, with the moonstone at the centre.
“Yours is the first hand this has touched since it was worn by my mother over a hundred-and-twenty years ago. I’m told this bangle represented everything in my father’s heart. From the day he gave it to her, to the day she died, she never took it off.” He lifted my hand and kissed it gently. “I can only hope it will mean as much to you.”
“David.” I choked back tears. “I—I can’t find words.” I touched the bangle. “I love it, and I love you.”
“I love you too, mon amour.”
I threw my arms around his neck and breathed him in deeply. “Thank you.”
“You are more than welcome.”
The need to keep him with me, exacerbated by being in my old room, the place I last broke his heart, filled me up with desires. “Stay with me tonight?”
“Sorry.” He pulled away, standing up quickly. “You know how I like my traditions.”
I slumped back on my pillows. “Only too well.” And there was no point arguing with him when he spoke in that tone. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”
“That you will.” He flashed a cheeky grin and leaped onto the windowsill. “I’ll be waiting by the doorway to our forever.”
The frost of early spring seeped through the small crack in the base of the window, while golden sun struck the bare white wall, parting the cold with columns of warmth. Dust motes hovered in the light, dancing around like today was a thing to rejoice, and for the first time in my life, I agreed.
I threw the covers back and tucked my arms under my elbows as the cool circled my ankles, reaching up to spread goosebumps over my body, then wandered over to look down on the day.
That boy never could close a window. I forced it down, feeling warmer from the mere absence of the breeze. Outside, the morning reflected off the road by the school, while sunshine began to melt the last of the cold. All down the street, leaves filled out once bare trees, and new birds chirped to the song of their mothers. It looked as though the world decided today could be spring, gifting me with a bright, fresh, new beginning, but this time, one I couldn’t wait to start.
I drew a deep breath through my nose and leaned against the oak window frame. Above me, the boys rustled around in the attic, obviously getting ready for the big day.
I wonder if David’s wondering if I’m awake.
Skittles’ bell jingled as he ran across the yard, seemingly unfazed by the frost on his tail and ears, most likely a result of falling asleep on the roof again. I smiled then, wondering if Skittles kept David company up there when he used to stalk me—before we met. Ha, vampires; can’t live with ‘em, can’t kill ‘em. I chuckled to myself.
Dad looked up and waved at me from under the tree in the yard, his smile as big as the day, while he untied my white swing and repositioned the rose-lined arch for the celebrant to stand under. When I waved, the sudden sight of the oval moonstone on the bangle David gave me last night caught my eye; I gently held my thumb and index finger against the silver, twisting it so the light of day bounced off the pinks and blues and purples of the stone.
I can’t believe he gave this to me. I hope I don’t lose it or break it or something. I think I’ll take it off right after the ceremony and put safely back in its little silver box. He’d never forgive me if something happened to it.
By my bed, the silver box sat, glorious and ancient, a reminder that David and I come from separate worlds, so very far apart, but so connected. The haunting song stored in that little case still played in my heart, making my arms tingle.
I walked over and twisted the crank at the base, then set it down, pausing before opening the lid.
“Ara?” Emily popped her head in the door; I snapped the lid closed the inch I dared to open it.
“Yeah.”
“Time to wake up, girl. We got a wedding to attend.”
I brushed off the last remains of a warm, cosy sleep, and charged for the door, catching sight of the time as I reached the hall. “Oh my God, Emily. It’s ten o’clock! You didn’t wake me.”
“It’s fine, Ara, stop worrying,” she said, walking away from me, her hands full of crisp, white linen.
“But, I am worrying. I—I don’t know what to do or where to go or what to eat or—”
With a smile, she dropped the stack of napkins on the hall table, appearing in front of me, her hand on my shoulder. “Take a breath.”
“Okay.” I folded over a little. “Breath. Good idea.”
“All good?” She leaned down a little to meet my eyes.
“Yeah. Yeah, I think so.” I straightened up. “No paper bag necessary. I’m just so excited. I—I’m afraid I might just run down the aisle.”
Emily laughed and used my shoulders to direct me to the stairs. “I’m sure David will be more than happy if you do. Nothing can ruin this day for that man.”
As we reached the base of the stairs, the memories of childhood, and David, skittered into my mind, echoing off just about every object in the house. I drew a long, deep breath through my nose.
“One bride coming up,” Emily announced.
“Oh, good.” Vicki placed a plate of scrambled eggs on the table in my spot; the smell of toasted bread and salt drew me toward the table by my nose. “I was just about to come wake you.”
“I wish you’d woken me sooner.” I shuffled into the chair, pulling my sleeves over my hands.
“Why?” Vicki put a coffee on the table. “So you could drive us all crazy with your panicking?”
“Yes.” I frowned. Why else? Jeeze.
“Give me that.” She grabbed the salt from me and put it on the bench across the room. “You are as bad as your father, Amara-Rose.”
“Hmpf!” I folded my arms, but only for a second since hunger overtook and forced me to swallow my temper with my toast.
“Morning, honey.” Dad kissed my cheek, sat beside me, then unfurled his newspaper.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Ready for this one?” he asked his paper.
“This time—so, so ready, Dad.”
“Glad to hear it.” He winked, then disappeared behind the daily news again.
“Dad?” I said, looking at the blinking light on the camera by his arm. “If you don’t turn it off we’ll run out of battery for the ceremony.”
“It is off.” He rolled a corner of his read to look at the camera. “That’s what the little light is, isn’t it?”
Groan.
“No, Greg.” Vicki left a plate of toast on the table and picked up the camera. “That means on.”
“Oh.” He hid behind the paper.
> “How’re the guys this morning?” I asked Dad.
“One’s pacing, the other’s sitting down and standing up every thirty seconds.” He kept his eyes on the paper. “I’ll leave it up to you to figure out which one’s which.”
“Did their suits fit? Do they need any help with their ties?”
Dad looked at me, his brow arched high. “Well, they’re closer to being ready than you are.”
“I won’t take long. My dress pretty much just slides on and this mess of braids is coming out, so—” I left it at that and popped a fork-tip full of Vicki’s light, fluffy scrambled eggs onto my tongue.
“Don’t mind me.” Emily appeared out of nowhere and tugged at my plaits. “I’ll just get the base of these braids out now—it’ll save time later.”
“Ouch,” I protested, trying to co-ordinate the fork with my jerking head. “Em, can you be gentle?”
“No.”
“Some of us around here are human, you know.” Emily stopped tugging and held still; Dad and Vicki didn’t even look up. I did mean that as a joke, and if I’d never met David, the possible implications of my attempt at comedy would’ve been nil, but we paused a moment longer anyway until the satisfaction of normality quenched our concern.
I shoved another heap of toast toward my mouth, missing the cave and hitting my teeth a little, then dropped my fork onto my plate; I’ll eat when Emily’s done yanking my hair out.
“So, Dad?” I asked after a little hesitation.
“Yeah, honey.” He sipped his coffee.
“Is Mike okay, do you think? I mean, did he seem—”
“Oh, for God’s sake!” Emily dropped my hair and walked away with a huff.
Dad and I watched the light in the entrance disappear behind the front door.
“What’s that all about?” I said.
“That was a little insensitive, Ara,” Vicki butted in where she wasn’t welcome.
