His Forbidden Heart

by Aimee Bishop

  "Come on. There's no time like the present." Cheryl nodded toward the front door. "You got the keys?"

  "Here," I said and pulled the ancient things out my pocket.

  I couldn't bear to do it myself, and so I handed them over before the three of us made our way to the front door.

  "Suzanna’s farm always seemed like something out of a fairytale," Said Cheryl.

  We looked up at the building with the ivy cascading down the walls and the old tiled roof looking as though it was on the cusp of collapsing. Out toward the barn, an explosion of colorful flowers glittered beneath the midday sun. It truly was beautiful, a romantic little haven. But I was a city girl and had never cared for a farm or such a large house before. My home had been small, with an even smaller yard. Now I was in charge of two cows and a dozen chickens. I smelled them before I saw them and the romance of the place was ruined by the stench of manure.

  "It's gorgeous, isn't it?"

  "I suppose," I said. "But I doubt the cellphone reception is that good out here."

  "Steph! Will you listen to yourself? You're lucky to be out here."

  "Am I?"

  She rolled her eyes.

  "You've got no idea."

  "Sorry, it's just that..."

  "I get it. Nobody wants to inherit a house this way, but it's not going to get any easier."

  She pushed the key into the lock and used both hands to twist it. The door fell open with a creak, and we were immediately hit by the smell of old wood, of cinnamon and roses and beeswax furniture polish.

  "Oh my God, it's amazing. Come inside, Steph."

  I was still lingering on the threshold with Gracie, still not entirely sure I could cope with stepping inside.

  "It's your home now," she said. "What are you gonna do? Live outside in the car?"

  She was right. Taking my first step inside, I was struck by the memory of the last time I was here. It was Christmas Day, and the whole place had been covered in holly wreaths and mistletoe. There had been a tree in the corner of the living room covered in lights. The whole place was alive with the auburn glow of candle flames, and the drinks had been flowing. There’d been an overwhelming feeling that day that we were all intoxicated by our own happiness, that nothing could go wrong.

  Now the house was cold and drafty, and the house plants were dead. Dust covered every surface, and the wind whistled through the walls. There was no laughter, no happiness, no feeling that the house could feel joy again.

  Then Gracie giggled as we walked into the kitchen, her voice the only ray of hope.

  "You'll be okay," said Cheryl. "I promise. I'm here for you."

  "Yeah, you're here now, but in a couple of hours you'll be leaving to go back home, and it'll just be me here."

  "And Gracie."

  "Yeah, and this little angel."

  I kissed her cheek, and she smiled to reveal her gummy grin. But it wouldn't be long until she would be asleep and I'd be staring into space, lying in bed amongst the memories of my sister’s life.

  "Let's make some coffee," said Cheryl. "Then we can start getting your things in order."

  "Coffee sounds amazing," I said. "But a hug sounds better."

  "A hug it is."

  She cocooned her arms around Gracie and me and squeezed us both.

  "Love you guys," Cheryl said. "I promise. The two of you are going to be so happy here."

  ~

  Later that night, we sat amidst an explosion of clothes in the upstairs bedroom. Gracie was sound asleep in the room next door, her nightlight casting a purple glow down the hall. Even though she was just on the other side of the wall from me, the baby monitor sat right beside me so I could watch her on the screen. I looked on as her tiny chest rose and up and down with each breath.

  "You're a great mom already," said Cheryl.

  "Who would have ever thought I'd hear those words?"

  "Hey, I always knew you'd be a good mother," she said as she began sliding books onto the nearby shelf. "You were always babysitting when we were kids. You used to earn loads of money doing that."

  "Baby sitting’s not quite the same thing, though, is it?"

  "Give yourself a break. You're a natural with children; anyone can see that."

  Over the last few weeks, I'd mentally wrestled with the idea of adopting Gracie. Not because I didn't want her, I wanted her more than anything, loved her ten times more now that her parents were gone. But there was this voice at the back of my mind that kept telling me I wasn't good enough for her, that my parents would have been better for her.

  "You know your parents are too old. Besides, they’re retired now and are finally getting to travel and do all those things they put off doing while raising their own family." said Cheryl, as though she'd read my mind.

  "Eh?"

  "I know what you were thinking. I always do. You think you're not good enough to be here, that you're not good enough to be Gracie’s mother. You always get like this, want to run away from things in case you screw up."

  "I swear to God, Cheryl, you should make a living for yourself as a psychic."

  She winked and began opening another box.

  "You know I've actually thought about doing that."

  "Of course you have."

  Once the next box was emptied, Cheryl yawned and rubbed her eyes. It was getting late, and she'd stayed longer than I thought she would, getting all my things in place and cleaning every surface she could get her hands on.

  "Hey, why don't you stay here tonight?" I offered. "It's not like there isn't room for you."

  "I better not," she yawned again. "I have an early start at the office tomorrow, and it'll be hell driving there in the morning from all the way out here. Better make a move."

  "Aw, do you have to?"

  "Sorry, kiddo. I'll be back this weekend, though."

  "Weekend! It's only Tuesday. The weekend is freakin' forever away."

  She ran over and hurled herself at me, squeezing me tight as we both tumbled onto the bed in a heap.

  "I'm so sorry! I wish I could be here. I'd live here with you if I could but... You know I can't."

  "Yeah, I know."

  Feeling that my lungs were about to burst with her weight, I pushed her off me.

  "Get a move on, or it'll be too dark to drive through the woods."

  "Hey, you think I'll see a sasquatch?"

  "Out here you just might."

  I walked her out to her car and lingered for a second at her window.

  "Drive safe," I said.

  "Absolutely."

  My heart sank as I watched her drive down the long winding road, her headlights dissolving into the forest. For a long while, I just looked out into the distance hoping that I'd see the headlights return, but of course, they didn't. I was well and truly alone out here.

  Even the animals were all asleep.

  Looking up at the sky, I saw how black and velvety the night could be in the country. The stars were a hundred times brighter than in the city and sparkled like pinholes of light puncturing a blanket of blackness. My eyes were drawn to the nearest star. I wondered if it was Suzanna.

  Back inside the house, I sat at the kitchen table. The baby monitor sat in front of me in place of a television. I didn't know what to do, had no idea how to make myself feel at home, so all I could do was listen to the sound of my own breathing as it moved in time to the ticking of the clock. Time moved so slow out here, and it was so quiet. It was as though time was stopping completely as if it didn't even need to exist at all.

  This is torture, I thought. I shouldn't be here. Not like this anyway.

  Pacing up and down the ground floor, my gaze moved over all of Suzanna and David’s belongings. There were countless photographs of the couple who used to be so happy, and endless trinkets and gifts they had bought for each other. It was destroying me looking at these things, reminders that they would never come back, and they would never smile again.

  My throat was tightening with the overwhel
ming urge to cry, but there were no more tears to escape my body. A migraine began to grip the top of my skull, and I rubbed my eyes. It had been a stressful day, maybe it was time to try and sleep, except I knew sleep would never come to me in this house. I'd be sleeping in their bed surrounded by their things.

  "I shouldn't be here," I said to myself.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  "Cheryl!"

  It had to be her. She'd no doubt gotten a few miles down the road and realized how much I needed her. She'd call in sick in the morning and stay the week with me.

  Flinging the door open, I half-expected to see her standing there with a bottle of wine and her usual smirk, but it wasn't her.

  In her place was someone so small I thought it was a child. It wasn't until I took note of the eyes, dark and brooding and sunken beneath folds of wrinkles that I realized I was staring down at a little old lady. She was dressed head to toe in black with mud-covered boots and a plastic bag in her hand. Her hair was untamed and unwashed, sticking up on end as though she'd been struck by lightning. Her face was dark and leathery.

  She's a witch, I thought. She has to be.

  "Well aren't you going to let me in?" she said.

  "If you promise not to curse me," I said.

  "What!"

  Luckily she was hard of hearing.

  "Come in!" I said and guided her to the kitchen. "Take a seat!"

  Chapter 6

  Now that the fire was on and there were cups of tea on the table, she was smiling.

  "Good grief," she said as she looked in the mirror and smoothed her hair down. "I look like a wild mountain woman. The wind out there is ridiculous."

  "How did you get here?" I asked as I opened a pack of cookies and laid them out on a plate.

  "Walked," she said. "Eugene and I are in the next house over at the end of the field."

  "Oh! I didn't realize I'd have neighbors."

  "It's just Eugene and me," she said as she smacked her lips together and reached for a cookie. "We've been in the Solder’s Town for almost fifty years."

  "All that time."

  "And we'd never live anywhere else."

  She fell silent as she crunched, her dark eyes sparkling in the firelight. I watched her intently– probably a bit more intently than was strictly necessary, but I was interested. This was the woman that Cheryl had tracked Gracie to that horrific night in the hospital.

  This ‘wild looking mountain woman’ was the one that Suzanna had apparently entrusted her only offspring to when looking for childcare. Much like with Sebastian Jenkins, that sort of blew my mind.

  "I’m sorry about Suzanna," she said. "I thought you were her when you opened the door. You look a lot like her. You must be her sister. She talked about you often. She adored you, you know."

  I nodded and sipped my tea. My eyes began to well up, but I was too tired to cry.

  "When I caught sight of people moving in here today, I assumed the house had been sold."

  "Nope, they left it to me," I said. "I'll be looking after little Gracie here."

  Her eyes lit up.

  "Oh, that's wonderful. Such a sweet little girl."

  "The sweetest."

  "You must be so happy to have her."

  I didn't know what to say to that. I was happy to have her but distraught at how it had all come to be.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "Forgive me. I didn't mean it like that."

  "I am happy," I said. "Gracie and I will make this place a home."

  The old lady smiled, and I realized I didn't even know her name.

  "I'm Stephanie," I said.

  "Margaret," she replied. "But you can call me Margie."

  She smiled and picked up another cookie.

  "So I suppose you'll be needing help with the animals at first," she said. "City girl like you won't know what's hit you when you start."

  She nodded toward my manicure. It was obvious I wouldn't know what I was doing.

  "Farmed much?" she asked with a wry smile.

  "Never."

  She chuckled and slurped her tea.

  "It's a good thing I was here to feed the chickens these last few weeks," she said.

  "Thank you. I'd be happy to pay you for..."

  She waved her hand dismissively.

  "Neighbors take care of one another, and Suzanna was always the first to help me out. Such a sweet young lady, such a shame that..."

  Her voice croaked and she began to cough, although I could tell it was to hide her tears.

  "She was just the nicest young lady you could ever meet, and a wonderful mother too. It breaks my heart to think that life can be taken away just like that."

  She dabbed at her eyes and shook her head.

  "If you need anything while you're here, anything at all, I would see it as a great honor if you came to me for help."

  I was a bit overwhelmed by her showing up like this, but at the same time, I was grateful that I wasn't going to be as lonely as I thought.

  "I'm sorry," she said. "You must think I'm crazy, just turning up here like this and babbling at ya when you probably just want to go to bed."

  She moved to stand up, and I reached over to press her back down into the chair.

  "Don't go," I said. "I'm happy you're here."

  She smiled, sadly, and pushed the cookies away.

  "You'll be fine here," she said. "You'll be happy eventually."

  "I hope so, but I'll be honest, I don't know how the farming business works. From what I understand, Suzanna used to sell eggs from the chickens and milk from the cows, but I don't know how to do that. And it was all fun and games to her. She didn't even do it for the money. David worked full time as an engineer, so this place was just a hobby, just something to tend to while staying at home with Gracie."

  Margie pursed her lips together as though I'd touched on a sensitive subject.

  "A lot of people from the city come out here and buy farms," she said. "They think it'll be cute. They think it'll be easy sailing, but they don't have farmer's blood in their veins. They don't want to put the work in."

  There was bitterness in her voice, the first hint that she saw me as an outsider. And by the sounds of it, no matter how much she liked Suzanna and David, they were outsiders too. I wasn't from here, and I was going to have to remember it.

  "I need a job," I said. "I'm not pretending that I can be like you."

  That seemed to assuage her concerns somewhat, and she thrust her hands out toward the open fire, warming her frozen, calloused fingers.

  "A job," she said. "Like farming ain't a job?"

  She saw the worry on my face.

  "I'm just playin' with ya. I wouldn't expect you to be able to do what I do. I was raised out in the wild, did more manual labor before I turned five than most grown men do in their entire life. A nice young thing like you would be better suited to a warm office."

  "That would be nice, but there's not much out here, is there?"

  There was a twinkle in her eye as she thought.

  "Eugene has a nephew," she said. "A real smart fella with a nose for business rather than manure. Has an office in town, although lord knows why – This place is so small, and he'd rather spend his time cavorting all over the place."

  "What does he do?"

  I was expecting to hear he was a small business owner, someone who just needed a girl to file stuff away and make coffee.

  "He's a property developer," she said.

  "Wow."

  "Quite a guy. I can't promise anything, but I can certainly introduce the two of you."

  "Really?"

  "Oh, yeah, absolutely. Actually, this weekend we're having a little get together with some of the townies. Come along. He'll be there!"

  "Sure," I said. "Can I bring a friend?"

  "The more, the merrier."

  Chapter 7

  I turned to Cheryl and thought she looked spectacular, if not a little over the top.

  “We’re going for drinks at a farm
, no need for all the glitter and sequins.”

  “You know what I’m like.”

  I was still sitting on the edge of the bed in my bathrobe with wet hair. The last place on earth I wanted to be was at a party.

  “It’ll be like some old-timer hootenanny.” Cheryl laughed. “Might even bag me some sexy farm hand.”

  “If you do he’ll like be about eighty.” I chuckled.

  Downstairs, mom and dad were bickering in the kitchen. They were here for a spontaneous visit for a little while and to help us get settled in. At the mention of the party, they’d been excited at the prospect of babysitting Gracie and had driven out with a car full of presents for her.

  “I know it’s hard,” said Cheryl. “But try and have a good time. After all you’ve been through, you deserve it.”

  “I’ll try,” I said as I stuffed myself into a black dress. “But I can’t promise anything.”

  Half an hour later, we were driving down the dirt road toward Margie’s house. Her farm was far bigger than mine, and older too.

  "Okay, whoa," said Cheryl. "I knew I was expecting a farm, but this is something out of the dark ages."

  "Be nice."

  "I am nice! But..." She looked down at her clothes and frowned. "You were right, I should have probably worn something else. Like a burlap sack, maybe."

  "I said be nice."

  We parked up out front, and I saw an array of cars. Looks like a full house already, I thought.

  As soon as I stepped out the car, my shoes got covered in mud and Cheryl began squealing.

  "Will you calm down?"

  "It's gross," she groaned. "So gross, and it smells like pig crap."

  I rolled my eyes and pressed on toward the door. She never had been good at being outside of the city.

  Margie opened the door before we reached the top step and opened her arms for a hug. She smelled like freshly baked cherry pie and beer, and she looked completely different. With her hair in a neat bun, she was dressed in a long, green dress with a little rouge rubbed into her cheeks.

  "I didn't know what to bring you," I said. "But I figured everyone likes red wine."

  She took the bottle out of my hands and looked at it, puzzled.

  "Fancy," she said.

  Once inside the main room, I was blasted by the heat from the fireplace. The hubbub of chatter descended to a hushed whisper as I entered and all eyes were on me. The sensation of being stared at was hotter than the fire.