by Lari Smythe
* * *
I insisted we stop for breakfast, but it didn't take Jason long to figure out I was stalling.
"It'll be fine," he said between fork full's of scrambled eggs.
"You don't know that."
"Listen, I saw them after you left—the concern—the worry—they were really upset, especially Elizabeth."
"Maybe that's the very reason it won't be fine."
Jason wiped his mouth and then took a long drink of milk. "So what are you going to say?"
"What?"
"What are you going to say? Practice on me."
"That's stupid."
"No it's not. Go ahead, give it a shot."
"I'm sorry I—"
"Are you?"
"Am I what?"
"Sorry." Jason leaned closer. "Are you sorry you left?"
"No."
"Then don't say it."
"But she will expect and apology."
"Then say you're sorry you hurt her. Tell her you had to know and that now you understand why—"
"But I don't understand, not completely."
"Then tell her that, but not right away. Tell her you had to know who and why and now that you do, you want to be with her—a part of the Faulkner family. That's how you feel isn't it?"
I reached across the table and stroked his hand. "You really do know me so well."
"After this morning, I'm not so sure stroking my hand is the right thing to do." He winked. "Come on, time's a wastin', let's blow this Popsicle stand." Jason paid the waitress and left a generous tip.
I got in the passenger's side—Jason insisted on driving, said it would give me time to think—and I snuggled up against him. Truth is, it was all I'd been thinking about since we got back to Boonsboro and found the Faulkners gone.
An hour passed before I pointed to a tiny dirt road that wound its way through a dense row of huge, ancient, oak trees laden with silver-gray strands, of Spanish moss that swayed in the gentle breeze. Jason turned into the drive, but stopped. The sign on the corner read, The Faulkner Plantation, Closed for Renovation.
"Now who's afraid?" I teased.
"You sure you want me here?"
"You serious?" I puzzled. "You're the one who insisted."
"Yeah—I still think it's a good idea, but I don't want to intrude."
"They're my family Jason, you're not intruding."
He smiled. "Remember that and everything will be fine. Okay, here goes nothing." He trounced on the gas. The engine sputtered, but he managed to do a donut before heading up the drive. The closer we got to the big house on the hill the slower he went.
I patted his leg. "Don't worry, they won't bite—at least I don't think they will."
"Very funny." He pulled up in front of the house at the edge of the circular, brick drive.
We both hesitated, expecting someone to come out to meet us, but no one came. The scene was exactly how I always pictured, a peach grove to the left, what looked like might have been a cotton field to the right and an old southern plantation nestled in between. The house sat on a red, brick foundation where, in the front, six magnificent, white, pillars rose to the ornate, roofline of the second floor. The center two columns supported a balcony off the second floor. In stark contrast to the white plank siding, black shutters framed each window. At the corners of the house, huge Magnolia trees bordered the picturesque scene like a painting in a museum, as though time had stood still.
"Maybe they're hunting," I speculated.
"In the middle of the day?"
"The sign said it was closed for renovations, maybe they want me to leave them alone."
"I think Tink would recognize the sound of your car. They know it's you. Besides, that's not what Elizabeth's note said."
Jason was right, they knew it was me.
"They can probably taste you," I teased trying to cover my anxiety.
Jason got out of the car and I crawled out after him. He offered me his arm. "Shall we?"
I hesitated. "Maybe—"
"It's going to be fine," he encouraged, starting toward the foot of the steps.
I gulped—one of those pointless human habits I'd picked up being around them so much. "Okay," I whispered.
As we reached the top of the stairs, the door opened and Tink stepped out onto the porch. He was wearing dark gray slacks of a coarse, old, probably handmade fabric with red suspenders stretched over a white cotton shirt.
"Hi," I tested.
"Good afternoon. Whom shall I say is calling?" Tink said with a formal, distant tone.
"Tink, it's me."
He did not respond. Apparently I was going to get the cold, hard reception I'd been dreading.
"Please tell Mr. and Mrs. Faulkner that Jason and Izzy are here to see them," Jason said, also with a formal flare.
Tink clicked his heels and nodded. "This way, please." He stepped to the side and I'm pretty sure glanced over at the car while he waited for us to go inside.
Jason's face showed the same awe I imagine mine did. The foyer was expansive—open to the second floor where a huge crystal chandelier hung from a massive brass chain. On either side of the second floor balcony, red carpet cascaded down the enormous curved staircases bordered by intricately, carved, white picket railings. I couldn't help but smile, picturing Benjamin and Elizabeth standing on the balcony.
"What?" Jason whispered.
"Isn't it exactly how you pictured?"
Jason nodded. "Like Gone with the Wind, only better."
"This way." Tink motioned toward the parlor to our right.
The archway led into a room with what had to be a twelve-foot ceiling. Ornate woodwork framed the white ceiling and flowed into a valance over the windows where heavy scarlet drapes were pulled back to allow the sun to fill the room. They must have know Jason was with me, I thought. They wouldn't do this for me. I glanced back through the archway as Jason and I sat down on the sofa, surprised to see the other rooms were also bright.
"Tink, I—"
"Would you care for a refreshment, perhaps sweet tea or lemonade?"
"Lemonade would be great," Jason said.
"Nothing for me," I added.
Tink bowed and I though I caught the hint of a smile before he backed out of the room.
"So far, so good," Jason said.
"Seriously? He acts like he doesn't even know who I am." I slipped my hand into Jason's, entwining our fingers. "What if—"
He kissed me.
"Augh-hum," Tink cleared his throat as he entered the room. "Your lemonade."
Tink handed Jason the glass and then vanished at near vampire speed.
"Where was I?" Jason teased.
"Stop it." I lightly slapped his shoulder. "It's not funny."
"Calm, Izzy, everything is going to work out."
We sat quietly, hand-in-hand while Jason drank his lemonade. Tink appeared and took the glass as soon as Jason finished. Then, we were alone again. Jason's breathing and pounding heart were the only sounds. My nerves couldn't take anymore.
I slid closer to Jason and whispered. "Maybe this was a mistake."
"Was it?" Came a quick, cold response from the archway.
"Elizabeth!" I said, startled.
Jason stood and pulled me to my feet. He wrapped his arm around mine like Benjamin was holding Elizabeth's. "Nice to see you again," Jason said.
"Yes," I added, lost for words.
Neither Benjamin nor Elizabeth moved.
"Then coming was a mistake?" Elizabeth said, apparently ignoring what Jason said.
"Yes—no—I don't know," I babbled.
Jason squeezed my arm and then stepped in front of me, turning his back slightly toward them. He smiled and then silently mouthed, 'family', before turning back toward them. "Mr. Faulkner, Sir, I noticed a checkerboard on the porch, do you play?"
Benjamin's eyes lit up. "Chess my young friend, a general's game."
"Then chess it is." Jason kissed the back of my hand and strolled ac
ross the room. As he approached, Benjamin turned and led him out to the porch.
Neither Elizabeth nor I moved. Try as I might, I couldn't remember a thing Jason told me. "It's nice to see you again," I offered. "You look beautiful."
The corner of her mouth twitched, shy of a smile. "You look well."
"I wasn't—not before—not now—I'm sorry." I remembered Jason told me not to say I was sorry unless I really was. "Not for leaving," I corrected.
"No? What then?" Elizabeth's voice was cold, removed.
"For hurting all of you—for hurting you. I had to go—I wanted revenge—to end this."
Elizabeth slowly crossed the room and then sat down on the sofa.
I sank back down, leaving a distance between us.
"To end this?" she repeated with astonishment.
"I hate being a monster—craving blood—sleepless, pointless eternity. All I wanted was to find who did this to me and destroy him and then end it. I'm sorry I led you on—lied to you—you deserve better."
"I was not deceived, and as I suspect you know, I knew the answers you searched for."
"Then why didn't you tell me? That's the one piece I don't understand. I spent all that time—and you knew."
"As quaint as it might seem, it's really quite simple, I gave my word." She relaxed in what almost looked like a human sigh. "I cannot tell you how many times I considered telling you. You were so full of hate—so angry, but I was afraid I'd lose you and I couldn't do that to Benjamin. He adores you so."
"And you?"
"I too will not apologize for something I do not regret. Isabella would have killed you that night if we hadn't happened upon the two of you. It was my insistence that brought you to us. I do not regret a moment of the time we've shared."
"You say that like it's over."
"Not unless that's what you want."
Elizabeth held out her arms and I slid next to her. "Can you ever forgive me, Mother?"
Her arms wrapped around me in a gentle embrace, her head sinking down to rest on mine. It was the closest we'd ever been. After what I'm sure was a considerable time for Elizabeth, she eased me back. "What are your plans?"
"I don't know. I've spent my entire existence contemplating my demise and now, I have no idea. Can I stay with you?"
"Is that what you want?"
That was the million dollar question, what did I want? Jason, the Faulkners, a pyre of purple flames, what did I want? "Would you destroy me if that's what I wanted?"
There was true sadness in Elizabeth's eyes. "I've failed you miserably. Perhaps what you need is time."
"Then I can stay?"
"This is your home. We are family. This is where you belong."
