The Hermit Next Door

by PJ Vye

  “You know you are. Does that story not sound familiar to you at all? Think Jack! Destitute and vulnerable musician has recordings stolen by manipulative and powerful record producer. Tell me you don’t see the parallel?”

  Jack’s face exploded in colour at her words, surprise and embarrassment fixed in every line, from every angle.

  “You’re right. You’re so right.” He looked at his hands in his lap and shook his head silently.

  “A fine pair we make,” said Willa quietly.

  The candles flickered as if a breeze had interrupted their concentration as a bubble of sap in the fireplace crack loudly sending a spray of red sparks over the grate and into the air.

  “Fireworks,” said Jack, indicating the fireplace as he moved closer to her in his seat.

  “You shouldn’t have,” smiled Willa.

  He turned to her, his eyes pleading. “I’ve done a lot I’m not proud of, Willa. And I’m sorry for so many things. But meeting you wasn’t one of them.” Jack found her hand and lifted it in the darkness feeling the calluses on the ends of her fingers. He tapped them gently with his own calluses, sending fiery sparks from her fingers to her brain, much like the fireplace had just moments ago.

  “Guitar fatality,” she said, trying to sound unaffected by his touch. “A lifetime of guitar playing leaves their mark.” Whilst the ends of her fingers were used to the hard pressure of the strings, they were completely unprepared for the very slight touch they were receiving now from Jack.

  “Mine are only just coming back, after all these years, and they hurt like the devil.” His hand tapped out a blistered fingertip sphere with hers, and though she couldn’t see them in the dark, she imagined his eyes the same stormy colour they were only a few days before at the river.

  As the flames flickered she had to force herself not to reach out and touch the shadows that cast across his face. What was she doing? Why couldn’t she think straight? He was nothing but wrong for her, yet she was glued to her seat. Why couldn’t she pull her hand away from his? She had to stop. It was simple. Walk away. But there was some invisible cord holding her there. She couldn’t walk away.

  He took a long breath and released it slowly. “Do you think we’ll ever get around to talking about what happened on the riverbank at that house yesterday?”

  Willa stopped breathing entirely, too shocked to answer. Carefully, he folded his fingers into hers, and with the other hand began tracing lines along her palm, slowly moving over her wrist and onto her forearm, leaving a trail of electricity that somehow carried through to the ends of her everything. “Do you think, after how much I’ve hurt you, do you think you could ever stop resenting me?” he asked, focusing once again on her fingers.

  She nodded silently, not trusting her voice.

  “Can you forgive me?—I hope you can.”

  Another silent nod.

  “I want to kiss you Willa…but…I’m afraid you might not want me to.”

  Willa lost her ability to breathe. “Yes—,” she whispered although she wasn’t sure what she was agreeing to.

  He wanted clarification. “Yes, you want me to or yes, you don’t?”

  “Yes,” her voice was barely there. She didn’t know what she meant. She should get up and walk away. Go somewhere safe. Somewhere she didn’t feel so reckless or out of her mind. But her body was riveted.

  His hand reached up to touch her face, and she tensed, waiting for the kiss she was certain was coming her way. When he didn’t move, she looked up and met his eyes.

  This was it. This was her chance. “I don’t think I’m ready for this,” she said, taking his hand from her face and shifting slightly away from him.

  There. She’d done it. She’d stopped it. Bravo. So why did she feel so ordinary?

  “Not ready for what, exactly?” he asked.

  “I’m not sure. I just know I’m not ready."

  “Not ready to hear that you are on my mind every second of every day?” he asked.

  “No, Jack—.”

  “Not ready to hear that my arms are aching to hold you, protect you?”

  “I’m sor—.”

  “Not ready to hear my heart pounding right now—?”

  “Please, I don’t—.”

  “Are you ready to hear how you’ve changed me, Willa?—and all the things I thought I wanted are gone. You mean everything to me.”

  She wanted to stop the screams in her head. She wanted to silence every nerve ending in her body that was telling her to fall into his arms, so that she could make a rational decision. She knew it was a mistake. And she knew it was very likely, she would end up hurt. But she wanted him, in that moment, desperately. Like a key change in a show tune, his vulnerability had transformed her. Sense and reason were pushed to the parts of her that couldn’t feel—like her hair and her fingernails. Every part of her skin and flesh, every body part that could feel, had Jack’s name on it.

  The dark, flickering of the fire’s flame possessed her and her body silenced her mind. She lifted her hands to his face and in the glow of a thousand dancing lights, placed her lips on his. His mouth was sweet and warm and undeniable. She couldn’t tell if the slight groan of desire was from his throat or hers. His arms wrapped around her and he pulled her onto him and she suddenly couldn’t get close enough, grasping his hair in her hands, wanting every piece of him. Waves of joy spread through her, and all at once she knew, she couldn’t deny him anything—ever again.

  Chapter 16

  Jack walked around in a dream. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so connected to another person. And he cherished it absolutely. They spent hours in each other’s arms, made plans, played house. He could see himself moving to Australia, finding a home together, farm some land. They could disappear from the world as much or as little as they chose and he would keep her safe and happy.

  He’d been blocking calls from her brother, Peter, hiding from reality, but it was clear he couldn’t keep her from it forever. He had to tell her about the media story and as the days spread into a week, it became impossible to delay any further.

  He had to return to LA to finalise the album and she would have to discover the truth about her brother’s betrayal. It killed him to watch her so happy, sitting under the tall gum tree, tinkering on the guitar as she overlooked the river, knowing he had to spoil it all for her. He hoped, prayed, that the time they had spent together would help her keep it in perspective and he knew he would do anything to help her through it.

  “Can I ask you something?” he asked, picking up a handful of leaves and crunching them between his fingers to release the earthy smell of eucalypt and dirt.

  “No.” She smiled at him, continuing to strum.

  “Okay, then. Can I tell you something?”

  “What could you possibly tell me that I don’t already know?”

  “So you’re saying you already know what I’m going to tell you.”

  “Correct.”

  “Ok, well I’m just gonna say it.”

  “I wish you would.”

  “I love you.”

  “Yep. See I knew you were going to say that.”

  “No you didn’t. You just blushed. You didn’t know.”

  “Yes I did.”

  “You knew I was in love with you.”

  “Yep.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Because it’s obvious.”

  “How is it obvious?”

  “Well you walk around all day with moon eyes, for one.”

  “Moon eyes? I do not.”

  “And you have this wobbly look on your face.”

  “What you mean like this?” He bent his lips and crossed his eyes to glare at her.

  She laughed at him and he saw rainbows, warm chocolate on a cold night, a brand new set of coloured pencils to a five-year-old.

  It was breaking his heart that he had to be the one to tell her, that her world was about to upend itself, and he could do nothing but stand by and watch her go thr
ough it. But he knew, in every ounce of himself, that he would not let her down, he would not let her experience it alone. He would be beside her every step.

  He wiped the dirt and leaves from his hands, took the guitar and laid it out beside her, then put her hands in his. “So, I need you to remember that I love you, especially over the next few days. Will you do that?”

  She sensed his seriousness and a veil of concern shrouded her eyes. “What’s going on, Jack?”

  “Willa, it’s time to take your life back.”

  The flash of betrayal across her face bit him to the core. He hurried on. “What scares you more? Having the boy blame you or having the world know your involvement in the matter?”

  “It’s both,” she said, wrenching her hands from his and standing up. “I don’t want to talk about this. Why did you have to spoil everything? I’m not interested in advertising my shame and negligence to the world. I’m not strong enough.”

  “I think you are.”

  “Well I’m not.”

  “You’re not the same person you were eighteen years ago.”

  “I’m exactly the same person, Jack. Just as liable, just as much to blame.”

  Jack clamped his fists until his fingernails pierced the skin of his hands. “Your brother Carl sold the story to a woman’s magazine. Everyone knows.” There wasn’t any other way to say it.

  He watched her turn ghostly still, a pale wash of grief stretch across her face before she ran a short distance and vomited behind a tree. The retching continued for several minutes, between cries of disbelief and astonishment. He wanted to comfort her, take away her pain, but stood motionless. On some level he knew he was responsible for it and he felt unworthy of her. Every squeal of pain was like a Chinese burn on his heart—twisted and tangled into half the form it used to be.

  He sank down to the ground and waited for her to quieten. He expected anger, violence even, and was almost disappointed when she didn’t punish him like he deserved. Instead she sat down quietly beside him and rested her head on his shoulder. Slowly he placed an arm around her and they sat together on the riverbank until the sun disappeared and the evening grew cold.

  Walking back into Peter’s house was like walking into a bad roadhouse. It smelled of grease and fuel and dirt. Dishes were piled in the sink and rubbish spilled over the table and onto the floor. The sound of blow flies gave the house a deserted feeling, but they found Peter asleep on the couch.

  Willa cleared a seat at the table and sat down, waiting for Carl to arrive. Jack busied himself making tea and Peter dragged himself to the table and sat opposite Willa, staring at her like she was some kind of alien being.

  “You look different.”

  “Do I?” she answered, not really interested in the conversation.

  Peter looked up at Jack and said, “So how did she take it?”

  “Why don’t you ask her? She’s sitting right in front of you.”

  “Because I’m asking you, tough guy. Something’s going on ‘ere.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Carl, wandering in the front door without knocking, looking like he’d stepped out of a Miami Vice shoot. He walked with a swagger and seemed fairly impressed with himself.

  “Hi Carl.”

  “Hi Willa. Good to see you.” He leant down to kiss her on the cheek and she turned her head away. He shrugged and wiped a pile of rubbish from the chair onto the floor so that he could sit. “How did the new recording go?”

  “Fine,” said Willa. “How much money did you make, Carl?”

  “Two hundred and fifty thousand.” He replied, smugly.

  She could only nod in understanding. “I hope it makes you happy.”

  “Oh come on, Will. You’ll get over it. What does it matter anyway? You really do take things far too seriously for your own good. Did you really expect me to turn down that kind of money?”

  “Have you heard from Daniel?”

  “Not yet. But he’s been badgered by the press as well, so he’s probably finding it hard to get in contact with you just at the moment. I don’t expect it will be long.”

  “I only came back to tell you I’m leaving.”

  “What? How? You ain’t got nobody but us, girl,” said Peter.

  Jack put down a mug of tea in front of Carl heavily, causing it to spill. “That’s not exactly true now, is it gentlemen?”

  Carl considered the American for the first time and screwed up his nose. “So this is the thieving producer is it? I can’t say it’s a pleasure.”

  “Likewise.”

  Willa was quick to take the heat out of the moment. She knew Carl wouldn’t be any good in a fist fight, but she couldn’t be sure about Peter and Jack. She turned to Peter and said, “I appreciate you letting me stay when I needed it, but I’m going to manage on my own now.”

  “What—with this bloke?” said Peter.

  “You gotta be kidding me,” said Carl.

  Willa grabbed Jack’s hand and said, “He’s moving here, to be with me.”

  Both brothers simultaneously filled the room with a vicious laughter that bounced off the walls, silenced the flies and chilled her to her toes.

  “I think that is unlikely,” said Peter. “He won’t have a job when we’ve finished wiv’ him.”

  “We’re suing him and his record company for millions,” added Carl.

  “On what grounds? What does he owe you?”

  “It’s not what he owes us, luv,” said Carl, his self-interest transparent. “It’s what he owes you.”

  “But I’ve been paid for the previous album. The record company owe me nothing. You’ve got nothing to sue for.”

  “Is that right, is it?” said Carl rubbing his hands together. “What about damages? Did you get a payout for that?”

  “No. I don’t want it, and it’s my decision.”

  “Actually, you’re wrong there,” said Carl, smoothing his eyebrows with his fingers as he always did when he took it upon himself to offer her fatherly advice.

  “You’ve gone bonkers, Carl. Of course it’s my decision. It’s my life.”

  “Yeah, but I still have a power of attorney that says that I have control over all your financial decisions.”

  Willa’s eyes shot open and then turned to Jack for support. Jack looked like he was ready to slam her brother against a wall. “Surely that can be overturned. I haven’t been institutionalised in years.”

  “Sure, maybe, but by the time you get that sorted, I’m pretty sure I can get your boyfriend here fired for unethical practice.”

  “Why are you doing this, Carl?” She turned to Peter for support but he wasn’t forthcoming.

  “I feel responsible for you, Willa. Who else is gonna look out for you if not us?”

  “Don’t kid yourself, Carl. You’re in this for one person only, so don’t be thinking you are doing this for me.”

  “That’s harsh, Willa. After everything I’ve done for—.”

  “Come on, Jack. There’s nothing for us here.” It was an effort to get Jack on his feet and out the door. He looked like he was trying to decide the best course of action, but she was determined to not let the situation escalate. She abhorred violence, and the raised voices were bad enough.

  “So you gonna stick with this joker are ya,” said Carl. “Over your own flesh and blood?”

  “At least I’m clear about whose side he’s on. I don’t think I know who you are anymore. When did it become just about money, Carl? I’m so disappointed in you both.”

  “Are you sure about that, princess? Are you sure he’s on your side?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “So you wouldn’t be surprised to hear then, that he was the one who had you evicted from the river then.”

  Her brother would stop at nothing, it would seem. She knew it couldn’t have been Jack. It was the farmer who owned the adjoining land.

  “Why don’t you tell her, Jack, if you are all so ethical and truthful? Why not tell her what really happened, lad
?”

  Jack met her eyes as she watched his chest fall in defeat. “Tell me it’s not true, Jack.”

  Jack shook his head slowly, painfully. “I paid the farmer to have you evicted.”

  Was it possible for a world to crush down on someone twice in two days? The life she had created around him was falling in on itself, like the detonation of an old building being demolished. In just a single second her entire landscape had changed. And she had nothing to hold onto. He knew that place was her entire world. How could he have taken that from her? How could she love a man capable of such selfishness, such disregard for another human being? She’d been so blind to his character flaws but now they were inescapable. To make matters worse, she’d been made aware of her folly by the two men who also could only see their own needs and desires. Why did she constantly end up surrounded by such similar men?

  She picked up her bag and walked out the front door where the media quickly swallowed her up. She had a vague sense of Jack calling her name as she was jostled around, everyone calling out questions and demands, but the sound of a young woman’s voice resonated with her and she gave the girl a nod and let her lead her to her car. She didn’t ask where they were going. She had nowhere else to go. Let them own her. She was empty and so what did it matter. If they wanted her, let them have her.

  Chapter 17

  “So it seems we’ve both been screwed over by Jack Gilmore,” said Carolyn, pouring two glasses of wine and handing one to Willa.

  “So it would seem.”

  “Having said that, I may not have got the interview I was promised, but I did get some financial compensation. It was enough to get me out of my parent’s house.”

  “Oh, well that’s something,” said Willa, trying to look enthusiastically around the home. While she couldn’t see herself in a home with neighbours only centimetres away, she could appreciate how nice it would be to have your own space and not be reliant on anyone for anything.

  She took a long sip of wine, finding it hard to keep her chin from trembling. The impact of what had happened was beginning to find its way to her heart and the loss was far deeper than she ever could have anticipated.