by Amy Daws
His hands come up to cradle my face and I close my eyes and feel his thumbs wipe away the tears. I’m stunned slightly by my emotional outburst. I pull my face out of his hands and shake my head, looking down the hill at the house. “I hate when you do that. I just want that on the record.” My voice quakes and I bite my lip, feeling ashamed that I’m turning this into something about me.
“I’m sorry,” he replies softly. “Why are you crying?”
“I don’t know why I’m crying. I just…when you do that…it feels like…I don’t know. Like I could…” I shake my head, unwilling to finish my thought. How did this all happen so fast? How did this man become so completely everything to me?
He wraps his arm around my back and pulls my head down onto his chest. I feel the rise and fall of his lungs and feel instantly comforted. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I won’t do it anymore,” he murmurs while dropping kisses into my hair.
“Why do you do it?” I ask, feeling like I know already but wanting him to explain it.
He shrugs beneath me and silence stretches out for what seems like an eternity.
“It started after Marisa died. Actually, the day she died.” My throat closes up and I lift my head so I can look into his pale brown eyes. He gazes down at the house and gets a faraway look in his eyes. “You know, the thing I can’t forget, the thing that still wakes me in the middle of the night?” He looks at me like he wants me to guess, but I remain silent. “It’s my mum’s screams.”
He looks back down at the house and I will myself to hold it together so he can get through this. “She screamed over and over. She wouldn’t stop screaming. She’d try to speak at times, to tell us what to do next, to tell us to go find Dad, but she could never finish a sentence without screaming.” He shakes his head, a look of disgust smearing over his features. “I’d never heard my mother scream my entire life. The woman wasn’t scared of anything. We’ve had field mice in the house before and even that wouldn’t make her scream. She’s a tough old bird.”
I scoot in closer to him and wrap my hands around his arm as he continues.
“Marisa’s my sister, Leslie. She’s just two years younger than me. She was my best friend in the whole world.” His voice quakes and he purses his lips together firmly.
“We came home together for the weekend. Hayden was still living at home ‘cause he didn’t want to do university. Mum and Dad were always taking the piss out of him for that, but I think they thought he’d change his mind eventually. Daphney was still in school.”
“Marisa and I would come home together from London on the weekends a lot. It’s such a laugh when our whole family is together. And being out in the county feels great when you’ve been cooped up in the city.”
A pained look fleets across his face and he takes a deep breath in and lets it out quickly. “We grew up riding quads, hunting, fishing, lots of outdoorsy stuff. Mum and Dad have over fifteen acres here, so growing up we were always running off and exploring.”
“It sounds amazing,” I offer, trying to show my support.
He gives me a sad smile. “Freak accident. That’s all I heard anyone saying at the funeral. Old wrinkly types walking all over our damn house saying what a tragedy it was. What a fluke it was. Shouldn’t have happened. Much too young. Fucking tossers…the lot of them. They don’t have a fucking clue what went down that day.”
“Hayden had Marisa on the back of his quad and I had Daphney. We had all been out for a couple hours down by the stream just mucking about. Marisa was whining about having to pee and Hayden was winding her up and telling her she needed to pee in the grass ‘cause he wasn’t going to take her back to the house.” He clears his throat. “Marisa got her way as she always did and she and Hayden took off back toward the house. A few moments after they left, Daphney said that she needed to pee too.” He chuckles softly.
“They couldn’t have been more than five minutes ahead of us. As Daph and I pulled up to the house, I saw Hayden just doing laps round and round the house by himself, seemingly killing time until Marisa came back out.”
He clears his throat harshly, pulling from the depths of himself to continue.
“Hayden and I always joked a lot. I think being both boys, we knew we could be hardest on each other. Anyway, as we approached the house, Hayden was coming ‘round and I shouted something daft at him. Something rude about what a shite driver he was. That’s when it happened. He turned around to mouth off to me, and then…” his voice cracks and he drops his head down between his bent legs, using his arms to shield his face from me. He pants heavily for a few moments.
“I saw the whole bloody fucking scene.” His voice is muffled and I shake the pain off myself to be there for him. I rub his back encouragingly. He looks up suddenly and tears stain his cheeks and nose.
“Right as Hayden glanced back toward us, Marisa came ‘round the corner of the house and stepped right in front of him. He struck her and her body flung toward the house. He jerked the wheel in reaction and his quad rolled, throwing him from it.”
“Oh my God, Theo.”
He shakes his head disbelievingly and swallows hard. “Everybody asked us how fast he was going but none of us knew. It couldn’t have been that fast, but the way their bodies flew made it seem like he was driving a fucking race car instead of a quad.”
“Daphney screamed and I slammed the brakes in shock. I stood there and held my breath waiting to see movement from either of them but both of them just laid there. Then my mum came round the corner and that’s when all hell broke loose. That’s when the real screaming started. She was screaming words but I couldn’t understand anything. I had to pry Daphney’s hands off of my waist to get to my mum. To help her or something. Daphney’s grip on me was so hard. So strong.”
He chokes out a cry and continues, “I didn’t know why mum was screaming. I knew it was a bloody awful accident but death didn’t even register on my radar. I couldn’t understand why Mum was losing it so bloody awful.”
“I ran straight to Hayden first because he was closest. Mum was kneeled over Marisa, so I thought she could get her sorted. Hayden had just started to come to when I reached him, but his leg was so obviously broken I had to look away. He looked…I don’t know, just like, blank I guess. Like he had no clue where he was or that his leg was broken.”
“But the entire time, my mum continued screaming these blood-curdling, earth-shattering screams. She screamed and screamed and screamed. I left Hayden to tend to my mum because…in that moment…she seemed to be the one that needed the most help.”
My jaw drops in horror as I picture the scene Theo is describing. Tears now run freely down my face, matching the tears running down Theo’s. He’s staring down toward the house stiff as a board.
“I couldn’t even help my mum though. I took one look at Marisa in my mum’s arms and I knew she was dead. Her body was completely slack. Lifeless. I just dropped to my knees and held my breath, willing the screaming to stop…willing the whole bloody scene to stop. Everything. I don’t know how long I was kneeling there without breathing but it must have been a while because when I heard Daphney approach, I shot up to stop her from seeing Marisa and I was so lightheaded I fell down. I remember seeing spots in my vision. My mind was whirling and I grabbed Daphney and yelled for her to go get Dad. I think that’s what my mum was screaming. I don’t know though. I called 999 but I have no recollection of it. I don’t remember what I said to the operator, I don’t remember any of it.”
“Theo.” My voice breaks through his trance and he looks at me, almost surprised I was still there. “Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
“Don’t say sorry, Leslie. Not you. Anyone but you. Sorry is the shite that the rest of the world says to us. The crap about it being a freak accident. Sorry for your loss. It’s terrible. So sorry. You can’t say those words to me, Leslie. Please. I’m begging you. Promise you’ll never say sorry.”
I nod, my chin trembling at the urgency behind his reques
t. I can’t imagine that day. This beautiful family being ripped apart in the blink of an eye.
His expression sobers suddenly as he gazes down towards the house. “If Marisa would have fallen just a half a foot either way, she would still be alive. Her neck hit just perfectly.”
Silence creeps in between the two of us as the horror of his words sink in.
“Why didn’t you want to share any of this with me?” I ask quietly, not wanting to push him too hard but needing to know more.
“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks incredulously. “It’s horrifying, Leslie! And damning! It’s damning to live with this tragic past. This tragic mark on your story of life that you could have easily prevented. You don’t need this shite on you too!”
“Why is it damning for you?”
“It’s my bloody fault!” he howls loudly. “And don’t try to tell me it’s not. If I wouldn’t have distracted Hayden, then Marisa would still be alive and Hayden wouldn’t be slitting his fucking wrists!” His voice is laced with aggression. Guttural. “That whole day has had a ripple effect on my family that is bloody endless. We are so fucked. I don’t know how you’re not running for the hills yet.”
“Theo!” I say, turning his angry gaze back to me. “Look, I’m not going to tell you it’s not your fault. Just like I’m not going to tell you sorry. Only you can come to those resolutions on your own. But Jesus! You have to let me say something!”
He looks at me curiously, clearly emotionally frazzled after reliving it all again.
“Regardless of the whys, or the hows, or the causes, it happened and it sucks. But…I don’t know…we found each other despite it all!” I smile pathetically and he scowls, trying to wrap his brain around the meaning behind my words. “I know that sounds terrible because you’d love to go back in time and bring your sister back. I’d love that for you too. But maybe just try focusing on what you and I have been given.” I grab his clenched hand, twinning my fingers through his. I stare at our hands seriously for a moment, letting these thoughts marinate for just a tad longer. I swallow hard at the realization of the serious commitment I’m making to this man after everything I’ve been through with the one man in my life who’s supposed to protect me.
“I agree with you, Theo. What we have between us…is important. And who knows if we would have even found it without all that you’ve been through.” I exhale heavily, feeling like I’ve just admitted way more than even I knew I was feeling.
He glances down at our hands as well and then looks forward at the house again, biting his tongue in deep thought.
“I would have liked to see a life with both of you in it,” he murmurs and then smiles sadly. My heart bleeds at the innocence of that statement. He looks like he’s about to say something more, but then shakes it off and clears his throat gruffly. “And now, this house that we grew up in haunts every one of my dreams. Just looking at it now. It’s all I can picture.”
“That’s why your parents are selling it?” I ask tentatively.
He nods. “They can’t live here anymore without seeing Marisa everywhere and having that tragic day replay in their minds.”
I nod and look down at the beautiful home. It’s so perfectly situated. It doesn’t even remotely resemble a place that would host a horrible nightmare for an entire family. I almost feel sorry for it. I know it’s not a person and feeling sorry for an inanimate object is silly, but fuck it. I do. This beautiful house appears to hold way more beauty than it does horror.
“I want to see it.” I stand up and brush the butt of my dress off.
Theo looks up at me quizzically. “Did you not hear anything I just said?”
“I did. It’s terrible. I still want to see it. I want to see where you grew up. Can you handle it, you think?”
He stands up and eyes me cautiously. “’Course I can handle it. I just…I just…”
“Let’s go then,” I grab his hand and pull him back toward the car. He looks visibly shaken and uncomfortable, his face red and blotchy from the salty tears.
“Please? Show me around?” I ask sweetly. He half-smiles, looking a bit more like the Theo I’m used to.
***
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
He drives the car down the steep gravel road and pulls through a large open gate and around a raised landscaped flowerbed that sits high up on the rocks in the center of the circular driveway. He parks right in front of the pale blue double-door entry. He looks nervous, but I see the tiniest flicker of excitement in his eyes.
“Are your parents home?”
“Not for a bit. They’re still seeing Hayden off.”
“Let’s do this then!” I sing merrily.
We get out of the car and I notice a huge five-car garage perpendicular to the house. Jeez, Theo’s family has money, but the house doesn’t scream it out loudly. It’s a quintessential old English home that looks lived in, but well cared for.
Theo holds my hand tightly as he grabs the hidden key from beneath a clay toad. He opens the doors and I smile, taking in the home that Theo grew up in. The foyer is large and airy with lots of bright natural light shining off of the modern slate-grey tile.
“The house is from the 1800s but my parents have done updating. Several generations of Clarke’s have lived here. I was a boy when we moved out here after my grandparents moved into the village.”
“It’s beautiful,” I say, taking in the modest staircase leading upstairs. “Were all the Clarke generations in the furniture business?”
“No, not all. It was my great grandfather that started it.”
“And you’re continuing it,” I smile proudly.
“In a way,” he shrugs. “Not the distribution center though. I think Daphney might be in line for that. Speaking of which, you’re not paying for that table of mine.”
“What do you mean? It was for charity!” I reply incredulously, throwing my hands on my hips.
“I’ll donate, don’t worry.”
“We’ll see about that. Stop being so bossy and show me around!”
“Pot. Kettle,” he murmurs, grabbing my hand tightly. He leads me down the hallway into a large and beautifully updated kitchen. It’s all white granite and knotty pine cabinets. The wallpaper is an olive-green sheen with a texture. I drag my hand along it as I mosey around.
“This is the wallpaper I think your eyes look like sometimes,” he says, looking slightly sheepish and stuffing his hands into his front pockets. Gosh, that conversation we had about my eyes feels like so long ago! So much has happened.
He looks so nervous and uneasy in his own home. I hate it. I smile sweetly and bite my lip, willing away the cuteness of his face so I can find the nerve to walk over and kiss him. Surely I shouldn’t still feel nervous around someone who’s kissed nearly every inch of my body. But God, sometimes he’s so freaking hot that I can’t help but feel anxious! I walk toward him and his eyes flutter with a brief look of discomfort. I ignore it and muster up my balls of steel. I grab the front of his shirt and pull him into me, taking his lips tenderly with mine. He returns the kiss delicately at first, until his libido takes over and his hands come up and clasp my face. He pushes his kiss forward with equal passion and just when I think we’re breaching the point of no return, I pull away.
“Show me more,” I say breathily. He gives me a lopsided smile and leads me out of the kitchen, looking slightly more relaxed.
He takes me around the rest of the house and I get a feel for Winnie’s quirky, old-fashioned style—which I kind of dig. It’s a hodgepodge of oddly upholstered furniture with random collectibles, wallpaper patterns, and some eccentric items. I make note to ask her about those later if I’m ever back here again. It’s cool in its own unique style. The best part is that the whole house just feels comfortable and lived in. It makes me wonder what it would have been like to grow up here with loving and nurturing parents, like Theo’s seem to be.
“This was a playroom when we were kids. It’s just storage now,” Theo says nervous
ly, gesturing toward one of the doors we pass on the second floor.
I raise my eyebrows. “Well? What are ya waiting for, buster?” I ask, stopping in front of the door.
“Buster?” he asks quizzically, turning around and crossing his thick forearms across his chest.
“Yeah, buster, buddy, big boy, butchie, badass, Belved…” Theo’s lips slam into mine, silencing my very awesome tirade of various endearments that start with the letter B.
He breaks the kiss with a chuckle and I smile up at him. “You like those endearments, do you? I’ll make a mental note of that.”
He winks and pecks me on the lips once more. “Were you just going to call me Belvedere?” he asks, looking confused. He walks past me and grabs the doorknob.
“I was. Good guess! You really do get me.” I beam proudly at him. “Look it up in the Urban Dictionary. You won’t believe all the crazy definitions for it!”
“I think I prefer Superman.” He bites his tongue and I have to stop myself from kissing the beautiful twinkle in his eyes.
He opens the door and I take in the large expanse of the room. It has three large bay windows with sheer white valances. Several totes and boxes line one whole wall, along with bookshelves full of antique toys and books. A tiny school desk sits up by the window and I walk over to inspect it and check out the view. I smirk at the image of a young Theo playing school here.
“It’s pretty much just storage now. Mum says she can’t bear to throw out our toys in case any of us ever give her grandbabies. Maris…” he stops speaking suddenly, his face flushing with red.
“Marisa? Marisa what?”
He shakes his head dismissively attempting to brush it all away. “Do you not talk about her, Theo? Like, at all?” He shakes his head sadly. “That seems miserable.”
“It is. Just like this house,” he says with a heavy sigh and joins me, leaning his large frame against the window frame. I wrap my hands around his waist, pressing my ear against his chest. His heart thunders inside and it makes my own heart hurt. This haunted-house feeling he is portraying is so tragic.
