The Darkest of Shadows

by Lisse Smith

  Death was inevitable and unavoidable. I knew this moment was coming, but I just wished it wasn’t quite so soon. I think the fact that he wasn’t actually dead, the fact that as I stood there, feeling the cold and the desolation of my loss, he was still living and breathing on the other side of the world, gave me the strength to push away from the wall and face what I had to do.

  I turned around, prepared to walk back into the restaurant and tell Lawrence that we had to go to Australia, that it was time for him to meet my dad, while there was still time. I needed him beside me for this. But when I turned, instead of space, I came face to face with Isobel.

  “Sorry,” she stammered, shock showing on her face when she saw the horror in my eyes. “Sorry,” she repeated. “I didn’t mean to disturb you; I was just coming to see if you were OK.”

  Quite obviously I wasn’t, but I answered the only way I could. “I’m fine,” I told her in a flat unemotional voice.

  “Oh, OK.” She stepped back a pace. “You just look a little startled, is all.”

  “Just a difficult phone call.” I held up the phone to emphasize the point.

  “I’m sorry I was a bitch to you when we first met,” she said out of the blue.

  “Don’t worry about it.” I really didn’t care.

  “No.” She shook her head. “It was rude of me, and I apologize.”

  “Fine. I accept.” I went to step around her, but she held out a hand to stop me.

  “Please. I just wanted to explain,” she said. “You see, you have everything that I want, and I don’t understand how it comes so easily to you and how it escapes me.”

  I sighed. I really didn’t have time for this. “I’m sorry, Isobel, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I told her.

  “Lawrence. Nicholas.” She shrugged. “All of it. You have them all. You even know William Bates. I would give so much to be familiar with half the people you call friends. What’s so different about us that I can’t be part of your world?” She sounded desperate; she honestly wanted to know.

  “What makes us different, Isobel,” I told her, “is that I don’t want any of it. I don’t try to be friends with these people, I didn’t go looking for Lawrence, I didn’t seek out Nicholas, and I still haven’t got a clue exactly who William Bates is, and I don’t care.”

  “How could you not care?” She sounded shocked. “They have so much. So much money and power. Who doesn’t want to be around that?”

  “I don’t.” I shrugged. “I don’t care what Lawrence does, I don’t care how many hotels Nicholas owns. I would still be their friend if they were nothing, because I like them as people. What makes us so different, Isobel, what you don’t understand about these men, is that there are a hundred women like you who throw themselves at Lawrence and Nicholas every day. There will always be another pretty woman who comes along. You will never gain and hold their attention if you don’t have a brain in your head. Go get a job. Get a career, and you might have a chance of catching hold of Nicholas. But if he can’t respect you, then he will never love you.”

  Isobel was stuck silent. She stared at me, and I watched the understanding as it spread over her face. “Lawrence loves you,” she said.

  I nodded. “Lawrence is an amazing, remarkable man, and I am honored to be part of his life. But it’s the man himself I love, not his name or what he does.”

  I stood there in dawning horror as I realized what I had just admitted. The full consciousness of my words hit me in the chest and speared a hole right though my body.

  “Oh, dear God,” I groaned, and made a mad dash for the garden and proceeded to throw up my dinner. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” I wasn’t sure if I was saying it aloud, or just in my head. I felt Charlie beside me, heard his concern, and then I felt him move away. I knew where he was going; I knew that I had moments, seconds before Lawrence would be there, his strong arms comforting me, holding me.

  I could have that.

  But I couldn’t do that.

  I couldn’t. I couldn’t. I couldn’t love him. I, I…I ran.

  One moment I was clutching my stomach; the next I slipped past a stunned Isobel and squeezed between the plants and the wall of the hotel. I was across the road and slipping into a taxi seconds later.

  Eighteen

  I made the taxi drive around for a little while before I finally collected my thoughts enough to make a decision about where to go. I needed to be somewhere. I needed to see my dad before it was too late. Before anything else. If I could just focus on one moment at a time, then I might be able to manage this.

  I had nothing except the clothes on my back and, thank God, my purse with my passport. It rarely left my side; our travel was often so unexpected that I carried it out of habit. My dress was plain black, not too short, and had little cap sleeves. It wasn’t too formal, but hardly what I would have chosen to travel in.

  I paid the driver when he dropped me at Heathrow and walked into the terminal. First I needed to get a ticket, which would probably cost me a fortune—and that was if I could even manage to get a flight out at this time of night. It took me three airlines before I found one that was leaving soon, and by that point I would have paid anything they asked. The only reason I was allowed to travel so close to the departure time was because I wasn’t checking in any luggage, something the airline crew found to be an astonishing fact.

  I got a ticket in business class, scooted through security, and found my way to the allocated gate.

  I wasn’t sure if Lawrence would be able to find me. I was sure he would be worried, and considering my phone was nearly continuously buzzing with missed calls and voicemail messages I figured that was probably a given. But I refused to answer. I refused to even see who was calling, mainly because I didn’t want to see that it might be Reed. The only reason she would be ringing would be to tell me that it was too late, not to bother, because Dad was already dead. As long as I ignored that call, I could manage to hold myself together with the knowledge that my dad was still alive.

  And as long as I had that to worry about, I wouldn’t have to think about Lawrence and what I felt for him. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, when it had gone from him being a friend to my being in love with him, and I was even more astonished that my messed-up mind could even acknowledge it. But what I couldn’t do was live with it. The only way to deal with it, the only way that I could breathe each breath, was to forget about him. Totally. I couldn’t take back the fact that I loved him, but I could separate myself from him. It was the only way.

  The flight left as planned, and with my phone off, I felt like I was safe. Nothing could touch me in the air. Not Lawrence, not Reed, not my dad. For the next twenty-four hours, I was safe in the untouchable world of airline travel.

  “What the hell happened?” Lawrence was furious. Furious at Charlie for not staying with Lilly, furious with Isobel for upsetting her, furious with Nicholas for inviting Isobel. Furious with Lilly for running away.

  “I didn’t do anything!” Isobel looked frightened but still tried to stand up to Lawrence.

  Charlie came busting back through the hedges from the street. He shook his head. “She’s gone,” he admitted reluctantly.

  “Explain to me, please,” Lawrence ground out, “exactly what happened.” He tried to stay calm, but that was becoming more and more difficult.

  Nicholas placed a hand on Lawrence’s arm. “We’ll find her,” he promised. “Let me handle this.” When Lawrence finally nodded, Nicholas turned back to Charlie and Isobel.

  He directed his first question to Charlie. “Lilly came out here to ring Reed. Did she make the call?” he asked.

  Charlie nodded. “As far as I know,” he said. “She made a phone call, which I assumed was to her sister. She seemed OK. They talked for a few minutes—it was quick—then she hung up.”

  “Then what happened?”

  “Then Isobel came out and they talked,” Charlie added.

  Isobel shook her head, spilling the tears
that hung heavily in her eyes. “She wasn’t OK.” Isobel confirmed. “Something was wrong. She was upset when I got out here, like she was about to cry.”

  “What did she say?” Lawrence pushed forward abruptly.

  “Lawrence.” Nicholas warned and placed a restraining hand on his arm.

  “It’s not going to help if you start scaring people.”

  “She said that she was fine,” Isobel continued when Lawrence nodded more calmly. “I asked, but she just said that it was a bad phone call.”

  “What else did she say?” Nicholas asked. “What made her sick?”

  “I don’t know,” Isobel answered. “I swear I don’t. We were talking.” But then she hesitated, like she didn’t want to admit more.

  “What exactly were you talking about?” Nicholas queried.

  “You.” Isobel shrugged, and another tear escaped. “Both of you. I wanted to know what was so different about us. How you could both adore her so much and think nothing of me.” Isobel seemed to grow talker as she spoke, like she pulled courage from her words. “She told me that we were different because she didn’t want any of it. She didn’t care who you were, how much money you had, how much power you had. She loved you because she knew who you really were.”

  “She said she loved me?” Lawrence stepped forward so abruptly that Isobel backed up a step in surprise. “She used those exact words?”

  She nodded. “She said that you are an amazing, remarkable man, and that she loved that man, not the one everyone else knew.”

  Lawrence surprised everyone by bursting into laughter. He slapped Nicholas on the arm, and they both grinned wildly at each other.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Nicholas said. Isobel looked astonished. Charlie and Frost were silent.

  “Now all I’ve got to do is find her and convince her it’s OK,” Lawrence said.

  “Where would she have gone?”

  “Not sure,” Lawrence admitted. “But I know someone who does.” He picked his phone out of his pocket and dialed the number. It took a few moments to connect.

  “Oh, thank God, Lawrence.” Reed’s voice echoed strangely down the line. “Is she all right?”

  “Reed.” Lawrence tried to calm her. “Reed, what happened?”

  “It’s Dad; he’s not good, and the doctors have told us he might only have days left. So I had to tell her.” Reed sobbed into the phone. “I had to, or she would never forgive me. Is she all right?”

  “I don’t know,” Lawrence admitted, his mind running through a million thoughts.

  “Where is she?” Reed caught on finally. “Lawrence, tell me she’s all right.”

  “I don’t know where she is. She ran.”

  “Oh, my God. I can’t handle this.” Reed was nearly hyperventilating.

  “Is Duncan there?” Lawrence asked. “Put Duncan on, Reed.” A moment later Lawrence heard the sound of the phone being passed around.

  “Lawrence, this is Duncan, Reed’s husband.” Lawrence liked the calmness of his voice. Here was someone in control.

  “Duncan. What’s happening over there?”

  “Billy’s in hospital; the doctors say it isn’t good. Reed’s been there with him the last few days, and she’s exhausted.”

  “What did she tell Lilly?”

  “That he was sick. He’s got pneumonia, and the doctors say it’s time for the family to say good-bye. She asked Lilly to come home.”

  “What did Lilly say?”

  “She’s on her way.”

  “Thanks, Duncan.” Lawrence breathed a bit easier. “I’ll call you when I get to Australia. You take care of Reed, and I’ll look after Lilly.”

  “I hope so, Lawrence.” Duncan responded. “Because you didn’t see her before and I’m not sure how this is going to affect her. I don’t think I could live through that again, and I know that Lilly most certainly wouldn’t.”

  Lawrence disconnected the call and started at the phone in his hand for long moment.

  “We’re going to Australia?” Nicholas announced with forced cheerfulness. Lawrence lifted his gaze and met Nicholas’s eyes, then finally nodded.

  “Yes, we are,” he replied.

  “Good.” He nodded. “Let me grab my passport, and I’ll meet you back in the lobby in ten. He grabbed Isobel’s hand and pulled her back into the restaurant.

  “Charlie.” Lawrence snapped back to focus. “Lilly is going to try and get a flight back to Sydney tonight. She’ll have to try for Heathrow. Go, find her, and get on that flight, but don’t let her see you. Just stay close to her and make sure she’s safe. I’ll fly over and meet you there.”

  Charlie gave a nod and disappeared into the darkness.

  Ten minutes later, Nicholas and Lawrence, with Frost following, headed out of town to the small airport that they used for the corporate jet. Lawrence had already phoned ahead to warn them and have them start flight preparations.

  They were airborne a full hour before Lilly’s flight left Heathrow.

  Fourteen long hours later, and we landed in Singapore. The one thing that I hadn’t checked when I was booking the flight the night before was the layover. Five hours. God, what on earth was I going to do for five hours? It was an interminably long delay.

  I ended up sitting in a café, drinking latte after latte. Anything to keep my mind off what waited for me at the end of this flight.

  “Hi.” A voice sounded from beside me, and I nearly poured my coffee down my dress. “Sorry,” the voice apologized. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  I turned to watch a man, young, early thirties, sit down at the table across from me. Uninvited. I didn’t answer him; I just watched in astonishment and he settled down with his own coffee.

  “Are you traveling far?” He asked.

  I contemplated ignoring the question, ignoring him, but I didn’t have the energy to be that rude. “Sydney.”

  “Me, too,” he said. “I’m on a layover from Paris. I’ve got another two hours before my flight leaves.”

  Super. “Same,” I reluctantly admitted, and hoped this man flew economy.

  But by the looks of the suit he was wearing, I doubted it. It wasn’t really high-end, but it was a suit, so he was probably a corporate traveler, therefore business class.

  “Do you live in Sydney?”

  I shook my head. “London.” I wondered when he would get sick of my one-word answers, but at least he was keeping me occupied.

  “I love London. Don’t get there as much as I would like, however.”

  I just nodded and sipped my coffee.

  “Are you traveling on business?” he asked, when he didn’t get any further response from me.

  I shook my head.

  “On holidays, then.” He assumed.

  I shook my head again, but he still didn’t get it. I was over his questions. “I ran out of a restaurant in the middle of the meal to grab the first flight I could find that would get me back to Australia, in the mad hope that I might get there in time to say good-bye to my father before he dies.”

  He sat in stunned silence for a full minute. “Sorry,” he finally stammered, then stood, and with a last glance back, he walked away.

  The plane landed in Sydney, and once again I found myself looking for a flight. When I left London, I hadn’t really thought much further than getting from England to Australia. I also didn’t plan how to get from Sydney to my hometown of Newcastle. That would take another flight. But first I had to transfer from the international terminal to the domestic one. By the time I got through immigration and customs, nearly an hour had passed since we landed.

  I took one look at the long line of people waiting for a taxi, and I chose the much cheaper ride in the shuttle bus. It felt strange, mostly for that fact that I had no luggage, was wearing a dress that cost more than two thousand pounds, probably looked like hell, and was riding a public bus with what looked to be mostly backpackers. I was getting my fair share of stares.

  Getting a flight from Sydney
to Newcastle was much easier than I expected. They left every hour, so I only had a relatively short wait for my next flight. However, by this stage, I was most definitely feeling sick with apprehension. The closer I got to Newcastle, the closer I came to the end of my untouchable world. Reality would intrude back with alarming clarity in less than an hour. I couldn’t ignore my phone when I arrived in Newcastle. For a start, I needed to know what hospital my dad was in. Phoning Reed would become a necessity.

  Newcastle airport was small but efficient. I was offloaded with the other passengers, all economy class, and on my way to the taxi in a relatively short period of time. My sister lived in town, my dad in a smaller suburb on the outskirts of the city, but I wasn’t quite sure where to go first. I gave the taxi driver instructions to just head for the city. I could always change direction later.

  I finally turned my phone on and cleared the massive number of missed calls without listening to a single one.

  TEXT: Where r u?

  REED: Where r u?

  TEXT: Just answer the question.

  REED: Hospital. U?

  TEXT: Coming.

  REED: How far.

  TEXT: While yet.

  REED: How long?

  TEXT: When I get there Reed.

  REED: Were at the Hospital. Ring me when you get close. I will come meet u.

  TEXT: ok

  “Can you take me to the Hospital, please?” I asked the driver.

  I didn’t ring Reed when I got there. I needed time to prepare myself. I knew that if I saw her first, I would break down and not be able to do this at all. So I checked with reception, and they gave me his room number. I took that as a positive sign that he was still alive. And as long as he stayed that way, there was a barrier between me and the blackness of despair.

  I walked the halls of the hospital and tried not to see anything or anyone. I tried to block images of a similar place, of a similar feeling, but a much different time. To me, hospitals were death, and they bought those images to the forefront of my mind. Images I didn’t need right now, that didn’t help me face what I was heading toward.