by Selina Bodur
FIGHTING THE IMPOSSIBLE
BY
SELINA BODUR
Text copyright © 2013 Veselina G. Bodurova
[email protected]
All Rights Reserved
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This novella is a work of fiction.
All names, characters, places and events are work of the author’s imagination.
Any resemblance to actual persons is entirely coincidental.
Cover image courtesy of Stuart Miles at FreeDigitalPhotos.net
Cover designed by Selina Bodur
To all of you,
who believe in dreams and wake up with the faith that anything is possible. Please don’t give up!
To my family, my dad especially and to the One, who never believed.
Special “Thank you!” to my friend - Boryana Tsankova, who helped me with the edit.
Table of content
Prologue
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Epilogue
Prologue
The sun was almost here. Tara Whyley was sipping hot cappuccino in the cold November morning. Her chocolate brown hair was falling down her shoulders. Her amber eyes were half-closed, and her cheeks had turned scarlet in the biting cold. Utter stillness was reigning all around. No wind. No sounds. It was like the whole nature had become quiet in anticipation of the sunrise. There was something around Tara’s presence – sadness, it was twisted around her slender body like a liana and it was reflected in her eyes – dark ambers, deep and sensual. The feeling was so strong that it was blanketing her like mist, soaking in every fiber of her being. Tara wasn’t crying, not any more. The tears came and went a long time ago. Everything seemed too far back and the precious memories were fading away.
For her thirty years Tara felt pretty much successful, leading the publicity department of a midmarket company, having the self-confidence to be an attractive woman, with great friends and… Yes. Something was missing. Her eyes, once so vigilant and filled with fire, were now only two embers, dying away in the grey November morning. At that place where her heart had been, there was now a piece of granite, heavy and eternally reminding for itself. Tara was hurt and after the pain had gone, she was left only with an empty shell, without a soul and without feelings.
Suddenly the autumn leaves started to play at her feet; the trees sang their rustling song. The Park Hotel, where Tara had been staying for a third year, was fabulous, almost unreal, enchanting and taking your breath with its centuries-old trees, rose gardens, streams and crystal clear ponds. Tara was blind for the beauty around her. But then the first sun rays finally fought their way out of the grey clouds and started playing in her eyes, inflaming long-extinct feelings. And then…
Flash!
Chapter one
Five years earlier
Peter was walking towards her in the fresh July morning. There was some uneasiness in his gait, but confidence as well. The rays of light made his light brown hair looked golden. His crystal blue eyes were fixing her. Peter’s body showed tension, but also determination. Tara took a deep breath, stilling herself, ready for yet another fight between them. His scent filled her nostrils – grapefruit, melon - were soaking in each cell of hers.
“Tara…” his voice…
Flash!
***
Present days
“Tara? Tara, dear, are you okay?” Claire was gently shaking Tara’s shoulders.
“W… What?!” Tara blinked in bewilderment.
“Come, let’s have breakfast! You are so cold. How long have you been here alone?” asked Claire.
“I…” confused, she looked at her and then at the place, where Peter stood a moment ago. The love of her life. The vision had vanished into thin air just after the first sun light; the magic, which brought him back – slipping through her fingers. In front of her was only Claire.
Claire. She was always there for Tara, pulling her from the edge each time, bringing back the harsh reality of life. Sometimes quite bluntly, almost like a slap, but today – gentle, with eyes filled with worry.
“I’m fine! Sorry, but I didn’t want to wake you up so I haven’t called. What is it for breakfast?” Tara quickly changed the subject. The problem was that her fake smile couldn’t deceive Claire. Both had been through so much together and had built an understanding that didn’t need words. Claire knew Tara’s ache, the more so here, where she and Peter met for the first time.
“I don’t think that’s good idea!” the fine lines on Claire’s face deepened “One word and we’ll be gone.”
“No!” Tara almost cried. You could sense the need in her voice, as well as a bit of masochism, knowing that she was letting the pain in her heart once again. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to sound that harsh, but we’ve been talking about it every year and you still haven’t changed my mind. I need to be here! I need to remember!” her eyes pierced Claire’s and for a moment the old fire in them was burning stronger than the sun.
“Fine,” Claire sighed “come on, breakfast is waiting for us!”
The two women headed back to the hotel, blind and deaf to the beauty surrounding them, the scent of the roses or the murmur of the stream, both preoccupied with thoughts about lost love and friendship, beyond limits.
Tara made for her room to put on something warmer. The hotel was one of the most beautiful places she knew; possessed a lovely charm and the wood-paneled corridors and halls with marble floors carried you into times long bygone. The entire architecture created the feeling of fairytale, of timelessness. Tara froze. Something was wrong. She’d avoided this part of the hotel, but her feet brought her here on their own. She stood in front of room No. 103, gripped by memories and then… the door opened.
Flash!
***
Five years earlier
Two days before Claire and Tom’s wedding
“Hmm, a… Hi! I may have the wrong room. I’m looking for Tom Michaels?” Tara seemed embarrassed.
The eyes of the man opposite were piercing her, sending shivers down her spine. They were as blue as two oceans, filled with suspense, intriguing and mysterious. He was taller than Tara, creating a sense of superiority, well built, but not too muscular. His hair was longer than it was the custom, wavy, dark caramel and gave him boyish and wild appearance. He continued to study her with his eyes without any embarrassment as if undressing her and barring her innermost secrets. His eyes were intense as if they were searching for something and then as suddenly, they began to twinkle out of curiosity.
“Tom Michaels?! Hmm… let me think! But of course, you are a part of the show!” his voice was deep and confident, the tone playful and conspiratorial.
“P… pardon!? The show?!” she stammered. His eyes were holding her still, immobilizing her. Tara shook the magic of. What was wrong with her! It was like her brain cells refused to obey. The eyes, it was all because of his eyes. Damn!
“Yeah, you know, bachelor party, booze, friends and….SHOW!” he shouted enthusiastically “Come, come in, trust me the audience has no patience! I just hope that you’re wearing something sexier underneath!” he winked. His fingers - locked around her wrist, the lips - millimeters from her ear. Oh, God! The warmth of his body so close to hers was wrapping her like invisible blanket. His fingers were burning through her skin, leaving a mark, deeper than she even realized.
The words finally reached Tara’s consciousness, making their way through the cobweb of emotions and senses. A tiny, angry gleam flashed in her
eyes.
“So… You think that I’m a part of some kind of an entertainment show, like striptease show?!” the anger was slowly forcing its way into her voice. His eyes never left hers, but there was no trace of shame or regret in them, they were still confident and relaxed, maybe slightly curious. The anger in Tara was inflaming with each passing second. This man was just driving her mad. He insulted her straight in the face, still grinning smugly. She wanted so much to wipe that smile or rather to tear it up with her fingernails. But what was wrong with her? It wasn’t in her style to let the aggression gain the upper hand. Tara took a deep breath and with the cockiest expression and an icy voice, asked:
“Is Tom here? I would like to talk to him.”
“Tara?” Tom got up from the couch apparently had one or two drinks more. “I see, you’ve already met.” the smile on his face suggested that he felt the rising tension around them too.
“Not exactly.” said Tara. The fingers of the stranger opposite still twined round her wrist like a bracelet, forged from white hot steel. She abruptly pulled her hand away, which for a second seemed to cause bewilderment in him, but only a moment later the sneer settled back into his eyes.
“Tara, this is Peter McClain, my best friend at the university and our best man. He has just returned from Australia. Great, right?” The silence after Tom’s words could be cut with a knife. Turning, he continued:
“Peter, this is Tara Whyley, Claire’s best friend and our maid of honor.” Tom was barely keeping a straight face. Peter’s pupils widened for a fraction of a second.
“But this is wonderful! So, we will see us often in the coming days!” there was no trace of uneasiness in his voice and even a hint of an apology in connection to the scene that had just taken place.
“I’m afraid! Tom, I didn’t know that you were in such a company!” she spat the words. The disparagement in Tara’s voice was evident and the anger was creeping up again. “I’ve always imagined you in better crowd!” But why that stranger made her fly into rage, wanting to hurt him? And why she was feeling even worse now, when she had? Her thoughts echoed in the empty hall, mocking her. Fool! Peter ignored the insult, but the sparks in his eyes went out and their color mimicked thunder clouds, reflected in the ocean.
“Anyway,” Tara tried to restore her balance, although emotions swirled faster within her. “Tom, I came to leave the schedule for tomorrow. Don’t be late!” Tara turned round and sighed quietly. She was out of his stare’s trap. Then why this feeling of expectation didn’t leave her. She took a few steps, enjoying the touch of soft carpet to her toes and thinking she was out of danger, twisted her head just before turning into the hallway. Damn! Peter was still standing at the door casually leaning on its frame. The sun, peering through the window, reflected in his hair, making it look aflame. His eyes were serious and somewhat guarded, but still never left Tara’s, creating a bridge of electricity between them. He blinked and twenty four carat smile splashed on his face, as the winner in a game, unknown to Tara. The last she heard was the closing of the door.
***
Present days
Tara heard the click of the door.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” in front of her stood a man in his 50’s with gray hair and caring fatherly eyes.
“No, I… I think I have the wrong room.” Tara blinked quickly to chase the tears away, which were desperately welling up to spill over her cheeks.
“This is number 103.” The man opposite her looked concerned.
“Yes… 103.” Her thoughts were slamming into her skull, struggling with the reality in front of her. It was so long ago, but Tara remembered; every moment and every second. All that’s left to do was to welcome the memories, to accept and learn to live with them.
She apologized to the gentleman and hurried to her room.
Chapter two
Five years earlier
The day before the wedding
The next day was a real torture for Tara. Organizing a wedding for someone like Claire, who always expected more, was a real test and now she had to deal with this big-headed male specimen Peter McClain. And this proved more difficult than the guest list and the floral arrangements. No matter how diligently Tara was trying to avoid him, he was always there, watching her, handing her the scissors, inflating balloons or simply bringing her a glass of water, just when she was thirsty. How tiresome! And although he seemed to had turned into her shadow, he hadn’t uttered a word since the morning. Tara just wanted to get away, throw away everything, jump in her Mini and set off to… Where to?! All of her friends were here and she would never abandon Claire in the most important day of her life. It was clear that she needed to deal with Peter McClain alone.
“You okay?” there was concern in his voice and of course the eternal tease. Peter slightly touched her shoulder, sending electrical impulses throughout Tara’s body. “You were clutching the chair so hard, I thought that you will break the backrest.” His eyes sparkled, warmer than the midday sun.
“What do you care?!” Oh, it sounded wrong again, she thought, but it was only his fault. Peter visibly withdrew by her tone and caused a part of the daylight to go out with the glimmer in his eyes.
“Well, just” he reached over her and took a card with a guest name from the table “Mr. Colum Preach won’t have a place to sit if you break his chair. All in the name of the perfect wedding!” his eyes flashed thunderstorm blue.
“I think we will be able to find an extra chair” Tara’s tone was ice-cold “And if not, Mr. Colum may take mine!”
“But wouldn’t that be wonderful!” Peter was on the verge of losing his temper “Then we can share a chair and I’ll even let you sit on my lap!” he winked at her. Tara was clutching the scissors so hard that… The adrenaline was blurring her vision. Self-control was a foreign word in his presence.
“Be careful, Miss Whyley, you’ll cut yourself!” he gently took the sharp object from her stiff fingers, burning her soft skin. “And we still need your decorating skills.” His tone was indifferent and businesslike, but also somewhat guarded. Peter walked away with quick steps, leaving Tara alone to deal with the anger and the emotions raging in, taking over her like a flock of angry birds. And why now, when he finally left her at peace, she didn’t feel relief, but emptiness. The world suddenly had lost its charm, the grass was grey, the sun was simply annoying, blinding her; everything around her was like a tasteless meal in a five star restaurant. Tara just gave up and sank into the chair beside her. Maybe it was all because the stress around the wedding. She had to make sure everything was on schedule and Claire was happy, but it turned out, that it was drinking all of her vital energy. And now that Peter McClain. As if it wasn’t enough, he was throwing all of his energy into teasing her. “He was just trying to help” a little voice was creeping into her mind. Tara sighed. There was no time for that. And what she cared! Two more days and she’ll never see him again. She only had to survive tomorrow. Funny, but the thought saddened her. Tara shook her head, scattering her loose locks all over. First things first, making baby steps. First the dinner party, then she would think about the rest. Tara looked around. Everything seemed exquisite – white and silver accents with a drop of green, just like she wanted it, to feel the nature in every detail, even to smell it. The list with the guest arrangement was ready.
“It will be okay,” Tara told herself. “Come on, girls,” she turned to the hotel staff. “We can finish here; this will be the design for tomorrow. I’ll be here in the morning to help you.”
So, now the only problem left to her was Peter.
***
Lunch went surprisingly well. Or bad?! Around the table were gathered the closest friends of Claire and Tom as well as their families. And of course Peter was there too. But he was just completely ignoring her. Everybody praised Tara for the smooth preparation and the support, Claire was even moved to tears, giving a mini speech about the privilege to share the most important day of her life with the most loyal f
riend – Tara. Everyone was smiling and pleased, but he just sat there, like he was in another dimension. She should be happy and relaxed, all was coming according to plan and the wedding was only a few hours away. But Tara felt like she had lost the ability to enjoy life, and everything around her seemed pointless and overrated. She stole a quick glance at Peter. Something about him made her trilled, to be angry and laugh at the same time, to feel the world more vividly, like only with his presence he was able to change the night into day. Tara had never felt such passion and at the same time anger towards someone. Rage, that he made her forget all around her; anger, because he affected her feelings without even doing anything. Suddenly Peter raised his head and their eyes met. Damn! Seconds turned into minutes. She felt like mesmerized by the blue of his eyes. A moment later, he smiled politely and simply continued with the main course. So…. Tara had to admit that she had deserved exactly that type of attitude, even worse. She didn’t even know him, but their every conversation ended with caustic remarks, offending and insulting him. But he was just getting on her nerves, under her skin, so irresistible – no, that wasn’t right – he was moving her soul. But now, when she obviously had crossed the line, everything she wanted, was for him to look at her and smile, to see the interest in his eyes again. This man had just touched something inside her, buried deeply, excited her like nobody till now and Tara couldn’t deny it any more. But she could play that game too and after he showed no interest in her, she certainly wouldn’t beg for attention. But just when she had gathered enough determination…
“Excuse me, would you hand me the butter?” his voice shook her out of the stupor.
***
Present days
“Tara, pass me the toast, please!” Claire reached out across the table at the restaurant. “Tara?”
