by Ross Turner
Her question was answered as he stepped back and out into the welcoming light.
It was a small, wooden rowing boat, old and well used, but sturdy and still in good shape.
“Oh…” Jen remarked, a little surprised, and her face lit up as Deacon stood straight and turned to face her, his breathing steady.
“Up for it?” He asked her, casting a brief glance out towards the water.
Jen did not speak to reply.
Instead, stretching up onto her tiptoes and placing her hands upon his chest, she kissed him. He held her there for a moment, his hands running up her back and into her hair.
It was only because she needed to breathe that Jen let go, and if somehow her kiss hadn’t, the look in her eyes certainly answered Deacon’s question.
“Let’s go then.” He breathed softly, his voice like rough velvet stirring the water in their wake.
Working together they dragged the rowing boat right up to the edge of the shore, leaving a trail behind them in the strewn pebbles and bark and dirt and sand, all mixed in together.
Jen jumped in once they had it half in and half out of the lagoon, sending tumbling ripples out across the water, disturbing its perfect surface. Deacon shoved the boat and it began to glide instantly out into the peaceful abyss. He leapt as he pushed and clambered into the boat beside Jen, steadying himself as the small vessel rocked slightly from side to side.
“Ready?” He asked with a grin.
Jen nodded, smirking back. She could never help herself with him. He brought it out of her like no one else.
Deacon reached down for the oars resting in the bottom of the boat, positioned them, seated himself opposite Jen, facing the shore, and they were off.
Dipping the oars slowly, rhythmically, in and out of the water, casting new waves out across the rippling mirror of the lagoon with every movement, he rowed them gracefully out into the middle of the lake.
A gradual, barely noticeable wind crept across the surface, snaking its way through the wafting greenery of the trees and tiptoeing over the water as if it wasn’t supposed to be there. It tugged imperceptibly at Jen’s hair, blowing it over her one shoulder, and Deacon took in the sight in all her beauty, even as he rowed.
Beyond her the surface of the water glistened in the dazzling sunlight, and the lazy clouds above seemed to part perfectly to allow it to keep shining.
All around the trees engulfed them on practically every shoreline, and Deacon even felt as though if the pines could have marched down and into the water itself, they most certainly would have done.
As ever, his eyes saw everything, and for that he was so glad, for he drank in the picture of Jen before him greedily, and never wanted it to change.
Little did he know though, there were certain things only Jen’s eyes would ever see: things that neither he nor Dyra would ever be able to cast their gazes upon.
Jen stared out over the lake and thought of many different things.
Half the time she couldn’t even put her finger on exactly which thoughts were racing through her mind at any one moment, for they flickered by so fast that she didn’t have chance to focus.
When she eventually did manage to settle on a single notion, she remembered when she and her older sister, Clare, and their mother, Dyra, had gone out to a lake themselves. It was the one where they’d taken that photo, she recalled, that even still was framed at home.
It was just a shame that, now she was here with Deacon, thoughts such as that invaded her mind, bringing back her faded memories and her uncontrollable despair.
Still, Clare had not appeared, even though Jen dutifully glanced around every now and then to see if she would come.
But then, naturally, there was no way she could have been there.
Nonetheless, for a time, Jen was nothing if not distracted.
She fought hard against it though, and actually, in the end, in something of a revelation, actually managed to break through the thoughts and memories that oppressed her, and smiled thankfully at Deacon.
“Here, budge over.” She told him, smirking as she stood up on wobbly legs and crossed the perilous two steps it took her to reach the board upon which he sat.
“What…?” He began, but before he could actually form a question, Jen nudged him over to one side playfully.
“Budge!” She laughed, plonking herself down beside him and blowing a raspberry on his neck.
Taking up one of the oars and leaving him to tend the other one, Jen grinned like a child let loose in a playground for the first time, and Deacon laughed merrily.
“Come on then.” He joked, eyeing her with a teasing look. “Let’s see what you’ve got…”
Jen felt like the more time she spent with Deacon, the more that her mood lifted, and the more easily she could keep her desolate thoughts at bay.
She felt so much more like her old self again, and she just prayed now that it lasted.
Surely it couldn’t last forever, could it?
It was as if his very presence was keeping her devilish evils at bay. In fact, more than that. He was helping her, probably without even realising, to again become the person she once had been.
And with that: with her renewed strength, Jen felt strong enough to take on the day.
But as their perfect day wore on, the afternoon gave way to dusk, and evening laid itself out over the land. The tides found a way to change their peaceful rhythm, and order was stirred into chaos.
Speaking of devils, it was upon that very evening that a demon yet again came to visit the Keepers’ household, and it left a devastating trail of destruction in its wake.
Dancing with the Devil
“So you’ll both come?” Deacon asked eagerly, his voice full of pride and excitement and joy all at once.
Once Deacon and Jen had returned from their outing, Dyra had invited Deacon to stay for dinner. He had graciously accepted, for he was growing to like Jen’s mother more and more by the day.
He found that she was a kind, caring woman, though clearly had also had her fair share of troubles and heartbreak. She had the look in her eyes that people often do when life has dealt them a most unfair hand, but they have no choice other than to just soldier on.
Conversation turned over to time Deacon’s work, for Dyra knew very little about it other than that he was an artist. Jen had not revealed quite the extent of Deacon’s success to her mother, and Deacon had in turn invited them both to an exhibition of his work that was taking place the following week.
“An exhibition?” Dyra probed, intrigue clearly sparking in her expression. She had always been a fan of all kinds of art, hence the photos, pictures and ornaments dotted all around Keepers Cottage. “What of?” She pressed.
“Everything on show will be for sale.” Deacon explained. “It’s a collection of pieces I’ve been working on for the past eighteen months or so.”
“Oh how exciting!” Dyra exclaimed. “Is there a theme?” She asked.
Deacon nodded.
“Natural beauty.” He told them, glancing with a brief smirk across the table at Jen as he spoke, causing her to blush, though of course that was by no means deliberate.
“Intriguing…” Dyra commented, grinning also. “Why natural beauty?” She asked without relent, clearly very interested. Deacon didn’t mind in the slightest though. It was always wonderful when somebody else felt an attraction to his work.
“The whole event is funded by Greenway.” Deacon began to explain. “The exhibition is called ‘Greenway’s Natural Beauty’.”
“Greenway…?” Jen suddenly piped up.
She had heard that name before.
Deacon didn’t cut in, for he could see her mind churning over, trying to retrieve the information she had stored somewhere in there.
“Isn’t that an energy company…?” She finally spoke.
“It is.” Deacon congratulated her, impressed. “They call themselves an energy conservation company. They’re all about providing renewabl
e energy, and looking after the planet while they do it.” He continued to explain.
Jen and Dyra looked on at Deacon, amazed at his enthusiasm.
His arms and hands wove intricate patterns in the air as he spoke, and helped them to understand at least as much as his words did.
“They’re in everything from power to nature reserves. That’s why they asked me to base my exhibition around natural beauty, landscapes, that sort of thing. Their slogan is ‘Green Energy, Green Earth’. It all ties in rather nicely…”
“So…” Jen started, her tone a little confused. “Why are they funding your exhibition?”
“I’m one of their biggest sponsors.” Deacon informed them, speaking with a certain note of pride in his voice, and rightly so. “Half of the profits from the exhibition will come to me, and the other half will go to Greenway…”
“Half?” Dyra questioned. “That sounds like a large cut…” She sounded concerned, as if Deacon wasn’t really getting a fair deal for all the hard work that he put into his art.
She wasn’t, however, aware of exactly how much money they were talking about.
“Half is more than enough for me.” Deacon assured her. “I’ve even been tempted to increase it. You know, give them a little bit more…”
“How much money are we talking about, exactly…?” Dyra posed then, wondering why on Earth he was giving away so much.
Deacon thought for a moment the best way to explain without going too detailed into numbers.
“Do you remember…” He started, speaking aloud even as his thoughts clicked into place. “When the windfarm went up along the coast…?”
Jen thought immediately back to when Deacon had driven her to his house for the first time. It hadn’t been the first time she’d seen the turbines, but it had been the first time she’d really paid any attention to them.
“Yes…” Dyra replied slowly. “As a matter of fact, they were only finished just after we moved here…”
“Yes.” Deacon agreed. “It wasn’t really all that long ago. Well, they were part of the reason I moved here…”
“The turbines? Why?” Dyra questioned, not letting Deacon finish his sentence.
“Yes.” He repeated, having been cut off before he could ever draw breath. “They belong to Greenway. There are fifteen of them out along that coastline, for now…” He explained before Dyra could interrupt again. “Greenway built them…”
“Right…” Dyra filled, desperate to get at least one word in it seemed.
“My last exhibition paid for five of them.”
“What!?” Dyra exclaimed, though understandably so.
Jen’s eyes grew slightly wide at the prospect. She had known Deacon was successful. But she hadn’t realised quite how successful.
“And what percentage did Greenway get from your last exhibition?”
“Forty five percent.” He stated.
“Oh my God…” Dyra breathed, realising now, all of a sudden, exactly how much money they were talking about.
“And how much does a turbine cost to build?” Jen asked.
“A lot.” Deacon replied simply, leaving it at that, not really wanting to discuss numbers.
“So, what will this exhibition fund?” Jen asked instead.
“Well, that depends on if all the art sells.” Deacon admitted honestly. “My last exhibition was a lot bigger than this one will be, but this one is higher profile. I think they want to extend the windfarms. I guess we’ll find out when they get the money…”
“That’s just…” Dyra began, lost for words. “Phenomenal…” She eventually managed, in absolute awe of what she had just learned about the young man sat so unassumingly before her.
“Why, thank you.” Deacon replied, inclining his head slightly by way of acknowledgement.
“It sounds amazing.” Jen breathed. Deacon grinned at her cheekily, as he always did, and Jen felt a sudden rush of pride surge through her body.
“It does.” Dyra agreed. “It’s one of the most generous things I’ve ever heard…”
Deacon drew breath to reply, but he didn’t even have chance to do that.
Suddenly, and completely out of the blue, the front door burst open, rattling on its hinges it had been opened with such force.
“Dyra!!” Caroline barked in a disdainful, commanding tone.
In mere seconds Jen’s terrible aunt appeared in the kitchen doorway, not having bothered closing the front door behind her, just leaving it wide open.
She wore a ridiculously big coat, fur lined along every seam physically possible, and nothing but a skimpy black dress beneath it that was undoubtedly supposed to show off her figure. Unfortunately though, there wasn’t much to show off, and she looked as though she’d been on some sort of starvation diet.
Her heels were among the biggest Deacon had ever seen, and her face was a most repulsive orange, covered in so much fake tan that it wasn’t quite believable.
He took in the bizarre sight of this woman who had appeared before them in an instant, and he disliked her immediately.
Also, he noticed that Jen’s lip practically curled under as this impossibly rude stranger arrived, and pure hatred seeped out into the air from Jen’s very being.
Dyra barely made it to her feet, and certainly didn’t have chance to draw breath to reply.
“And just what do we have here!?” Caroline exclaimed, her words full of intrigue, but then also shock and disgust at the same time. “Dyra!” She barked again. “Why haven’t you told me you’ve been having a guest!?” She demanded, eyeing Deacon with conspiring eyes.
“Caroline…” Dyra eventually stammered, but she was cut short.
“Oh don’t give me that rubbish!” Her big sister shut her down. “Tell me who he is!” She commanded, pointing at Deacon in perhaps the most insulting manner that was humanly possible.
“What…I…” Dyra stuttered, and Caroline cut her down again.
“Oh do shut up!!” She dismissed her baby sister. “You’re useless!!” She turned her head back to Deacon. “Who are you!?” She demanded.
But Deacon did not have chance to respond, for Jen leapt immediately to her feet.
“HEY!!” She bit, throwing her words through the air as if they were spears. “SHUT UP!?” She screeched in disbelief, going from zero to pissed in about half a second. “HOW DARE YOU!!”
But Deacon’s hand on her arm quieted her momentarily, and her furious eyes flashed to him, confused.
He was on his feet and already moving. He took a step closer to Caroline, putting himself almost directly between her and Jen.
His stance was a defensive one, as if he was protecting them.
“My name is Deacon.” He stated, though there was undisguised detest in his tone. “Deacon Ash. Who are you?”
“Who am I!?” Caroline spat in reply, as if she had been mortally offended.
“Yes.” Deacon replied simply. “Who are you?”
“I am Caroline!” She scoffed at him, as if that told him everything he needed to know.
“Right…” Deacon responded, sounding decidedly unimpressed.
Caroline jumped to her next insult, seemingly faster than was possible, but she managed it anyway.
“What kind of a name is Deacon!?” She demanded, sneering at him as she spoke. “It sounds like a brand of soap!”
“Well it isn’t.” Deacon grated, keeping his tone as level as he could.
Jen could tell he was holding back and, in a way, she half wanted him to snap. Somehow she knew, if there was anyone who could put Caroline back in her box, it was Deacon.
“And how long have you been shagging her!?” Caroline demanded then, jabbing a scrawny finger beyond him and towards Jen, her bangled arm jangling as she thrust her hand out.
Jen fumed and seethed, but Deacon’s touch quieted her as he reached back and clutched her hand gently.
“I think you’ll find that what Jen and I do is none of your business.” He breathed in a voice that de
clared war.
She looked stunned for a moment, taken aback by his defiance.
He pressed on, unfazed, taking full advantage.
“In just the same way that I wouldn’t dream of interfering in your life…” He continued. “Exactly how many different men you have on the go is none of my concern, and especially not which ones are married and which aren’t…”
Caroline’s mouth hung agape.
Deacon’s manner was artful, and he held himself with the impenetrable composure of somebody who had danced with the devil a thousand times before.
“You…I…” Caroline faltered, and Deacon simply looked on at her, pushing her back with his steady glare.
She eventually managed to recover, but the fire and the energy was gone from her tone, and she was left with only her distasteful manners.
“How dare you…” She growled, but Deacon was one step ahead, cutting her off before she could finish.
“Quite easily, actually…” He noted pleasantly, smiling frighteningly politely. “You know that scorn of yours is really most unattractive…”
Caroline’s face turned bright red, out of anger or embarrassment, Jen couldn’t decide.
She didn’t have much chance to think on the matter, however, for Caroline’s next jab was aimed at her, in a futile attempt at a comeback, lashing out in the only way she knew.
“So I take it you haven’t told your boyfriend yet then!?” She gobbed at Dyra’s youngest daughter, looking at her as if she was pure scum. “He’s only still defending you because he doesn’t know how screwed up you are!!”
Jen’s face dropped instantly.
Dyra’s teeth suddenly clenched and her big sister’s comment forced her into screeching action.
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH!!” She screamed, lunging for Caroline with all that she could, hands outstretched, yearning, it seemed, to choke every ounce of life from her.
Deacon’s gaze swept over it all and he tried desperately to keep the two of them apart, save them killing each other, for Caroline, naturally, responded in kind.
Jen jumped in to help him, ignoring Caroline’s cruel words as best she could, focusing instead only on Deacon.
