Was that what he meant by another part of their home? Do they have horses in the basement or something? I guess growing up here, he does probably consider the stables to be just another extension of their house.
“Oh, that’s a lovely idea,” she approves. “Breckin, has Liam explained about our family?”
“Not much, “I admit. “I know that you breed horses as a business.” I sound like I’m asking a question. I think maybe Liam's mother will find it odd that I don't know much about them, but she doesn’t falter if she does. She continues to finely load her plate with food.
“That’s right,” Beth answers. “They’re a gorgeous breed.”
“What type of breed are they?” I ask before I bite into a piece of fresh cut pineapple.
“Arabian’s,” Liam offers. “They are quite beautiful.”
I nod, agreeing with him as I know nothing of horses. The only thing I know of is Clydesdales, and that’s only because one of the doctors in the ER my mom used to work with raised and showed them. Every year he would throw a party for the staff and their families to come out to his home and relax. But I haven’t been there since I was around six. I remember they were broad and good horses for pulling things that were heavy. Also, I remember their hooves being as big as dinner plates. I thought, too, that they were the same horses as those on the cute beer commercials aired during the Super Bowl. Other than that, I’m completely clueless.
“We have sixty-two at the moment,” Beth remarks then. “That’s not very many, but I admit we’ve been downsizing a bit.”
As I don’t know anything of breeding horses for a living, sixty-two sounds like a lot to me.
“And they are the finest in the country,” a deep voice says then from behind us.
Beth and I turn to look at the man approaching, but Liam stays straight in his chair with his back toward whomever it is. A man wearing a navy blue suit with pin-thin stripes clearly cut and sewn to his form and short sandy hair that appears to be thinning, just a tiny bit on top, enters the kitchen. He stalks over to kiss Beth’s cheek and I think it to be more formal than affectionate. The broad shouldered man then looks over to me with his average hazel eyes, appraising me from head to toe. I suddenly feel as though I’m a prize stud up for sale. It causes me to feel uncomfortable in my own skin, the way he’s looking at me. I stir awkwardly in my seat, suddenly uneasy, and hesitantly look up to meet his curious stare.
“You must be Breckin,” the man says, extending his hand to me for a handshake.
“Yes, sir.” Omigod, I’m doing it too! “And I’ll guess you to be Mr. Francis?”
He shakes my hand and then crosses his arms over his wide chest. He appears to be stockier than Liam, thicker in the torso and shoulders. Liam is taller by a few inches though. Mr. Francis holds a stern look to his face, making the creases in his forehead more pronounced and when I glance over to Liam, I see that his own expression has turned hard. If I didn’t know better, I would say he’s furious.
“You’d guess correctly,” Mr. Francis answers in a mocking tone. I attempt to decipher if that is his usual tone or if it’s directed toward me for a reason I don’t understand. “Got yourself a clever one eh, son?” He claps Liam’s back and Liam jerks out of his chair, sending it flying across the floor until it meets the island in the middle of the kitchen with an ear splitting smack, to stand toe to toe with his father.
My eyes widen in both astonishment and repugnance to the scene unfolding in front of me. Beth puts her head into her hands in what looks like exhaustion and I don’t know what to do. I feel the need to put myself in between the two men as I know Liam will calm from my touch, but my gut tells me to stay out of it. Instead, I sit wide-eyed, mouth gaping, glancing between Liam’s furious stance and his father’s cocky posture, holding my breath just waiting for the suddenly tense atmosphere to either explode into a burst of fireworks or fizzle out as fast as it has sparked.
“Can’t you be civil for once?” Liam growls. His voice is like hot acid pouring over helpless mounds of iron.
“I’m being perfectly civil, son. Let’s not make a scene in front of our guest,” his father says, looking down to my shocked expression. I feel my cheeks flush slightly, and then I look away to concentrate on my plate.
“No,” Liam says in the same angry tone. “We wouldn’t want to taint your reputation. Everyone thinks you're just so wonderful – I would never want to ruin that. We’ll save this for a more appropriate time then, shall we, Father?”
“Speaking of reputations tainted, have you run into any of your racer friends since being home?” Mr. Francis’s tone brings with it a picture of thick sheets of ice cracking under the heaviness and pressure of a big ocean-liner, echoing the sound of a very loud fissure splintering its way down the center. He’s a large, massive man, but not necessarily in the way of looks. His presence practically screams power and knowing authority, much like an ice berg floating carelessly in the sea, although with a silent and destructive purpose. I had completely forgotten about Liam’s past, involving fast cars and dangerous friends. Apparently it’s a subject not forgotten by his father.
“I just arrived home today, Father. I hadn’t the time to.” Liam snaps.
“Can’t you two just give it a rest, just this once?” Beth cries tiredly.
Neither answer her. Instead, they remain staring at one another; Liam furious with his father seemingly amused, which just infuriates Liam even more.
“Excuse me,” Mr. Francis eventually says, stepping back from his livid son. “I’m going to change wardrobe, then I’ll be back to get to know our guest a little better. I look forward to it.” His tone is now even but careful.
Mr. Francis disappears through the kitchen door and Liam plunks down stiffly in his seat. His back remains rigid with tension and I see that his hands are balled into tight fists, knuckles white over the bone by his sides. He finally looks at me and takes in my expression. He appears to calm down outwardly for the time being, at least in front of his clearly distraught mother. I know him well enough to know that he isn’t at all composed on the inside, and will soon leave to fester in his own misery and anger.
“I'm sorry, Mother. I’ve lost my appetite. Please excuse me,” Liam murmurs, stepping away from the table. His voice has become monotone, lifeless. I start to get up to join him, but he stops me. “No, no. You stay and eat. I’m sure you’re hungry, Breckin. You haven’t eaten since yesterday, so finish your dinner.” And with that, Liam disappears too.
Beth and I sit in awkward silence, eating the rest of our meal although I mostly push mine around with my fork as my stomach is now in nervous knots. I want to ask her what the problem is between them, but I realize it just isn’t my place. I definitely haven't established enough of a relationship yet with this woman to be asking any kind of questions pertaining to family feuds. Mr. Francis didn’t reappear and I’m afraid that he and Liam have taken the fight elsewhere. When I’ve decided I’m done with dinner, I take my plate to the faucet to rinse it off and then place it in the sink.
“Would you like my help cleaning up?” I ask quietly. I don’t really want to stay and help – I want to find Liam – but it’s the polite thing to do. Elly had always taught me that this is something expected of you whenever you are a guest in someone else’s home. Beth looks over to me with tears in her tired eyes, but smiles a small, appreciative smile as she wipes away a few tears that have managed to escape down her cheek.
“No, that’s quite all right, Breckin. We have Marjorie for that.”
“Okay, thank you for dinner. Good night then.”
“Good night, honey.”
I walk toward the stairs and slowly climb them one by one. I want to go to Liam badly, but I’m not sure if he’d rather be left alone for now. I have to pass his room to get to mine, so when I walk by I peek in, but Liam is nowhere to be seen. With a sigh I head to my room for the night. I change for bed – the flannel pants and T-shirt – and pull back the thick laced comforter
to climb into bed. I really have no idea what time it is, but the travels of last night and today have exhausted me. The fire crackles rhythmically in the darkness playing a lulling tune of snaps and hisses, and I’m so tired that I don’t remember even falling asleep. When I awake, I can tell I haven’t been sleeping all that long as I sit up and look into the simmering fire, thinking about my upcoming date with disaster. The wild thoughts cause my body to shake involuntarily with fear. I pull my knees to my chest and wrap my arms tightly around my legs, willing my spasms to stop.
What if I can’t do it? What if I fail completely in what I have traveled so far to accomplish? I can’t even begin to think about living life in constant fear, what with Joseph dropping in all time. But it seems that is the emotion lingering around me lately. Fear of knowing I can be taken out at any moment by a haunting disembodied spirit who appears soulless to me. Fear of not knowing what to expect next. Fear for the unfamiliar. I have Liam of course, and he’s strong now, able to handle watching me become incapacitated with blinding pain – literally – but how long will he stand by and just watch? How long will he be willing to ignore and deny his feelings about being the reason as to why Joseph haunts me? Believing he’s the force behind this terrible thing that seems to be overtaking both our lives? Even though I believe that to be ridiculous, but still, I can understand it. So my fear isn’t only for an invisible dark force yet to be dealt with, but also for losing Liam again. And the fear of living without Liam greatly outweighs my fear of Joseph. I know being without Liam will kill me just as surely as I think Joseph might.
Then there’s Evie. She has not yet given me reason not to trust her, but I still can't shake the feeling of unease whenever she appears. Sure, I don't like her for obvious reasons. Reasons I can’t help nor fix, but that isn’t it. My gift usually lets me know if ghosts mean any purposeful harm, and though I don't know what I exactly feel when Evie is around, I know it isn't good.
There’s a light knock on the door and I hesitate to answer – glad for the distraction it gives from my thoughts, but wary of who it could be. I still have no clue what time it is, but I feel it has to be quite late.
“Hello?” I call out quietly.
The door creaks open and Liam’s glorious face peers into me. His features are lit up by the subtle glow of the simmering blaze at my feet, making him look like a canvas painting done in deep oranges and yellows and gold. Everything in the room has been washed out with the warm colors of the fire, except of course for his eyes; they’re as beautiful as ever. I’m glad to see that he’s calmed down. I smile and gesture for him to come in. I pull back the covers inviting him to lay with me. Liam pads barefoot over to the bed after shutting the door behind him, climbing into the big white fluffy mound of blankets next to me. I automatically lay my head onto his chest and he wraps his arms around me, giving me an instant feeling of safety and completion. It feels so natural being with him this way. I can’t think of any place I’d rather be and I feel so consummate and whole while touching him as I stroke his cheek and listen to his heart. Neither of us speak and I’m perfectly content in the moment. My eyes close involuntarily and just as I am falling asleep for the second time, Liam breaks the profound silence with his low, accented voice.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His voice sounds gritty as if he hasn't used it in a while.
“For what?” I whisper back groggily. I’m struggling to open my eyes, but all I can do is blink heavily against my droopy eyelids.
“Before, with my father.”
“It’s okay.” I don’t know what else to say. I have no idea what the animosity is between Liam and his father and I’m not sure how to talk about it. Nor am I sure he wants to. So I let it rest at that. He'll tell me when he’s ready.
We lay silently in each other’s arms listening to the crackling fire. The room continues to glow in radiant orange-ish, yellow hues and I’m glad to have the warmth from it. The wind has picked up outside, shaking the window pane and when it howls against the house, I cower into Liam’s side. The sound of it sends a silent chill down my spine. He automatically tightens his hold on me and kisses my hair. I realize then that I’m cold even though I’ve wrapped myself up with the heat of Liam’s body and the massive mounds of blankets cocooning us together. But when my teeth start to chatter, he gets up from the bed wordlessly to stand next to the fireplace.
“W-w-w-what a-a-r-re y-you d-d-d-d-doing?” I ask through clattering teeth.
“Just putting another couple of logs onto the fire. It can get quite drafty in this old house when it’s so bracing outside. I bet we get some snow tonight with the way the weather has turned.”
I hear several clunks as Liam piles logs onto the fire, and the glow in the room becomes remarkably brighter. He then crawls back into bed beside me and I wrap as much of my body as I can around him. I tangle my legs around his and put my numb feet against the pads of his feet. When I snake a cold hand under his shirt at his stomach, he sucks in a breath and stiffens.
“S-s-sorry.”
“You are freezing,” he murmurs.
“It’s c-c-cold,” I complain. I lean my face into his neck and he cringes when my nose comes in contact with his skin.
“Let’s get you warm then,” he says in a tone that makes me think there’s double meaning to his words. I could be just imagining it though. “This house is old,” he explains again, “so the heating doesn’t fair well against the bitter cold.”
“J-j-just hold me,” I whisper. “That’s all I w-w-w-want right n-n-now. To b-be with you, just l-l-like this.”
I feel him silently chuckling beneath me. “Sounds good to me.”
“W-w-will you get in tr-tr-trouble if we’re c-c-c-caught?”
Liam shrugs under me. “I don’t know. It's doubtful. They'll probably be more worried that I'm corrupting you. But I don’t care what they think.”
“I don’t w-w-want to get you into trouble.”
“You won’t, and you wouldn’t be getting me in trouble, love. I’ll sneak out before anyone notices if you're so worried about it.”
I feel my face fall. I don’t want Liam to leave me, but I know under the circumstances that it will be inevitable. At least he’s only down the hall. But something pops into my head then that I’ve been trying to avoid at all costs. It isn’t something I’ve had to think about in the past few months – and to be honest, it isn’t like I have thought much at all about it even before that. Just a few thoughts was all I allowed in the beginning – especially after my conversation with Morgan – nevertheless, now that I have Liam back in my life, I can’t help it. It’s something he and I will be forced to face sooner or later and I want to know how he feels about the subject.
“Liam?” My voice is back to normal but I remain quiet.
“Hmm?”
“I love you,” I say, chickening out.
He laughs softly. “I love you, too.” I’m sure he knows I meant to say something else from the tone in my voice, but as patient as he always is with me, he’ll let me get to it when I’m ready.
“Liam?” I try again.
“Yes?”
“How,” deep breath, “do you… think we’ll… be able to be together… after you come back home… once school is finished?”
He’s quiet in his response, but there’s no hesitation in his voice. “We’ll make it work,” he soothes as he trails his fingers up and down my back. I hadn’t noticed, but Liam has managed to lift the material of my T-shirt up to my shoulder blades as he traces soft patterns on my skin. He is so sneaky. “I have faith in that. We’re meant to be in one other’s lives, I know that. I can feel it way down in my bones.”
“I can feel it, too.” I say after deliberating for a short minute. “I think that… I think I’ve known that you and I were meant to be together from the very first moment we met. I felt like there was a magnet pulling me to you.” I’m amazed at how almost gooshy I’m being. I find it easy though, to let the words flow effortlessly as I lay
in Liam’s arms no matter how ridiculous they sound. “I remember thinking how silly it was at how drawn to you I became upon first glance. It was practically instantaneous. But I had to know you. I knew that I had to have you in my life.”
“Silly,” he scoffs playfully.
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know what you mean. It’s hard to describe, but there was definitely some sort of underlying force pulling us together. I used to believe that I was being a complete pillock, but then decided it didn't much matter. And after what you told me about the Life Chart and such, I know that we chose each other.”
I lift my face away from his neck and he turns to look at me. Liam gazes over my face with very soft eyes, and then slowly puts his lips to mine. I close my eyes and let my other senses take over. The kiss is so gentle and sweet that I can’t help but smile under his lips. I suck in his scent; the sweet woodsy smell I’d noticed earlier along with his soap. I concentrate on the velvet touch of his mouth to mine and the way I feel so safe in his strong arms, like nothing ever could go wrong. I could spend forever right here and not feel like I’ve missed out on anything.
“Can I ask you something?” he says after releasing me from his kiss.
“Shoot.”
“I know you told me that you and Ben had never…” he trails off suggestively. “I was just curious. Would you… be with me?”
Oh God, he has to actually ask me that? And what brought this on? I thought we’d covered this already so many months ago in my room. I remember the unyielding need I’d felt for him building inside of me again and I have to take a deep breath to calm myself. It’s hard to ignore though being I’m enfolded with his glorious frame, practically every inch of my body wrapped up in his. Legs tangled, his hand on my bare back, my face inches from his, in bed… He waits ever tolerantly for me to respond as I fanaticize.
After my mind comes back to the now, I’m finally capable of giving him a shaky nod to answer. My body is suddenly very hot even though I know it has nothing to do with the fire at our feet or the way I have tangled my body with his. Just moments ago I was shaking from the cold, and now I can feel white-hot heat traveling up to my cheeks. Butterflies the size of birds have taken flight in my stomach, every inch of my body tingles, and the deep breath before was a wasted effort.
Hollow Sight Page 51
