by Gun Brooke
Closing her eyes, Aeron let her mind leave the nightmare and the resentment that usually resulted from that particular nightmare session. Instead she thought of the amazing view she’d woken up to with Sylvie sitting on her bed looking at her with such concern. Her skin, so pale and flawless, made Aeron want to touch it to see if it was as silky as it appeared. Sylvie’s long hair had flowed around her shoulders in an enticingly sexy bed-hair manner. This startling concept gave her pause. When had she begun to regard Sylvie as attractive? Probably the second time they met. But sexy? And not just a little bit, but more like gorgeously sexy.
Aeron had realized she was a lesbian about the same time she started her last year in college. Like a lot of other young women, she took advantage of her college experience to figure out if this was curiosity or the real deal. After going on a few dates with guys, she knew. Despite being great guys, they didn’t catch her eye like the women did. She didn’t fall in love with any of her female dates, but she did fall in lust a few times. However, she’d never responded to any of those girls like she reacted to Sylvie’s presence. Yes, they’d been cute and pretty, some super-feminine and some decidedly on the butch side, as she wasn’t sure if she was supposed to have a preference.
Now, with Sylvie sleeping—if she’d managed to go back to sleep yet—in the next room, Aeron had to clench her thighs and hold her breath to keep from gasping out loud. Her ever-agile imagination conjured up images of Sylvie offering to share Aeron’s bed in case she had another nightmare. How would she have reacted if Sylvie had? Aeron wished she’d had the confidence to follow her desires but knew she didn’t. As it were, that hadn’t happened and never would. For now, Aeron would have to settle for enjoying Sylvie’s company and perhaps a budding friendship.
*
Gothenburg, Summer 1987
“Aren’t you done yet?” Camilla strode into the library where Sylvie sat with her homework.
“I’ve finished the math stuff. That was easy.” Sylvie hoped Camilla wouldn’t ask too much about the essay she was supposed to write.
“And the essay?” Camilla walked over and glanced down at the desk. “But, Sylvie, you’ve written only a few sentences.”
“I’ve got a good idea about what to write, but…” Tears formed and clung to her lashes, and she tried to force them not to fall. “I tried to write faster, but I have to find all the words in my textbook, and it takes so long.”
“You’re going to fail that assignment if you don’t hand in an essay, honey.” Camilla pulled up a chair and sat down next to her. “This is how we’ll do it. You dictate to me, and then you copy what I wrote.”
“Isn’t that cheating?” Sylvie swallowed the last of the tears and looked questioningly at her mother.
“A little bit, but not where it counts. It’s your essay, your words.”
“But, Mom, they’re going to know it isn’t my writing. They’re going to know someone helped me. That’s even worse than failing the assignment.” The idea of being found out before the entire class appalled her. They already had her pegged as stupid and slow, even if she was the best in her class when it came to math. “We can’t do this, Mom.”
“Then it’s about time I talk to your headmaster. You have the right to receive special classes and—”
“No! Oh, please, Mom. All the kids think I’m weird as it is. If you have them send me to the special class, I might as well forget about school. I won’t go.” Her panic rose like bile in her throat. “I swear I won’t.”
“What’s this racket about?” Daniel stepped into the library. “Aren’t you in bed yet?”
“Just finishing my homework, Father.”
“How can a sixth-grader have enough homework to keep her up past ten?” Daniel looked like he debated whether to go into one of his rants about the incompetent teachers in a failing school system. Thankfully he decided he needed a glass of scotch more and left the room after telling her to wrap it up and go to bed.
“See? I have to go to bed, Mom.”
“I know. But before you do, I have an idea. What if I speak to your teacher and explain how they can’t demand you do the exact same assignments as the students who don’t suffer from dyslexia. I want you to use this,” she reached into a drawer and pulled out one of her father’s Dictaphones, “and record the essay in your room. If you get a sentence wrong, just press here and here and back up to where you want to start from.” She showed her the buttons on the machine. Then you take it with you tomorrow to school and show her. I know the school has alternative methods in place for students with your disability.”
Disability? Really? Sylvie hadn’t regarded the infuriating, hateful problem she had with reading and writing as a sort of disability. Now she grabbed the Dictaphone and hugged her mother. “Thanks, Mom. I’ll try this. If she hates it, at least I tried to create more than a few sentences.”
“Exactly.” Smiling wistfully, Camilla cupped her chin. “No harm in trying.”
Sylvie stacked her homework with the Dictaphone on top and was about to leave the library and return to her room when her father appeared, scotch in hand.
“About time. Good night—wait, what are you doing with one of my machines? Those aren’t meant to be toys—”
“Daniel. I let her borrow it. It’s for school.” Camilla’s voice was laced with iron, and even if Daniel normally ran everything, he pulled back the hand he’d just extended to take back his machine.
“School? A recording?” He looked suspiciously at them.
“Yes. You know her dyslexia is giving her more and more trouble. With this and some extra tapes, she can record her assignments and also record some classes where they’re meant to take notes.”
Daniel stood still in the center of the library, which Sylvie found rather fitting, as his empire, his entire world, always revolved around him. His word was law, and he never let anyone forget it. Camilla was one of the few who could oppose him.
“As long as the school agrees, I suppose the idea has merit.” He nodded slowly and sipped his scotch. “That said,” he added and pointed at Sylvie before she had the chance to mumble her intended ‘Good night, Father’ and slip out the door, “don’t forget for a second that it’s a form of cheating, and for a Thorn, that’s not entirely acceptable. If it weren’t for wanting to keep you from embarrassing us completely, I wouldn’t allow it. I can tell you, my father and uncle would spin in their graves at the mere idea of a Thorn cutting corners like this—”
“Daniel!” Camilla growled from behind him, making him pivot. “You should know better than to have opinions when the topic is something you know nothing about. If you’d have taken the least bit of interest in the latest research regarding dyslexia, you’d know that the only way to judge the person in question fairly is to give them different tools to even the playing field. For heaven’s sake, Daniel, even our King Carl Gustav has dyslexia, and you call him one of your dearest friends!”
His cheeks going a faint red, Daniel muttered something inaudible and emptied his glass. As he left the room, he didn’t even look at Sylvie, which suited her fine.
“Is he mad at you now, Mom?” Sylvie whispered as they made their way up the stairs.
“Perhaps a little. It wasn’t smart to argue in front of you, honey. Still, he’s an intelligent man and now he knows he’s wrong—or at least that I think he is. Your father is such a proud man, and not many people know him the way I do. In fact, after his uncle died, I’d say you and I are the only ones who see the true person.”
This sounded horrible. If her father was his true self with her, then he must really think she wasn’t much of a daughter. He criticized her a lot, and after observing other fathers she came across, she knew not all of them carried on the way Daniel did. Another thought struck her. If nobody but Camilla and Sylvie ever saw the true Daniel Thorn, he must be a very lonely person, having to pretend with everyone else. Sylvie knew quite a bit about loneliness. A twitch below her rib cage proved she could still feel
sorry for Daniel, even if he intimidated her…frightened her, even.
Sylvie spent half the night dictating her essay, and when she finally crawled into bed, she was pleased with the result. She didn’t like to hear her own voice—very few people did when they heard themselves on tape—but the story was good. She loved making up stories, but so far she hadn’t been able to save any of them for someone else to read or hear. Now her teachers would know she could write, even if she could normally only crank out three or four sentences in an hour.
As sleep overtook her, she dreamed of how thrilled the teachers would be and how this would make Daniel finally see she wasn’t stupid or lazy. She worked harder than most kids in her class, and if he were home more he’d know that. Perhaps if he realized she wasn’t stupid, he’d ease up on the criticism and start seeing her the way other fathers saw their children. Then he’d be less lonely and so would she.
The teachers never did get to hear that particular story. Sylvie presented it proudly when it was time for Swedish class, but the teacher frowned and shook her head.
“I have to check with the headmaster, Sylvie. This isn’t how you were supposed to return the assignment. Everyone else has had to think of spelling, penmanship, and so on. You can’t expect us to give you special treatment just because you’re Daniel Thorn’s daughter.”
Sylvie didn’t protest. She tucked the Dictaphone into her bag and sat down at her desk. Fearing she might actually shed tears in class, she refused to blink. Her eyes burned from the dryness, and then she closed them hard.
“Hey, Sylvie?” Viktoria, the new girl, whispered to her while the teacher busied herself with some papers at the front of the class.
“Yes?” Sylvie whispered back.
“I want to hear that story. I bet it’s good. You wouldn’t dare bring a tape with you to school if it wasn’t really, really good.” She smiled in a guileless manner that surprised Sylvie. Viktoria had belonged to their class for only a couple of weeks, and Sylvie knew sooner or later the popular girls would suck her in. Right now, Viktoria’s interest in her story was like balm on her frayed nerves.
“All right. Meet me at the girls’ bathroom during our free period.”
“Okay. Just the two of us?”
“If you tell anyone else, I won’t share it.” Sylvie was astonished at how stern she could sound.
“I won’t tell a soul.” Viktoria looked happy.
After listening to Sylvie’s story, Viktoria was clearly impressed. “That’s awesome. The teacher is stupid for not wanting to listen. I’d tell my parents if I were you.”
“I’ll tell my mom, anyway,” Sylvie said. She had mixed feelings: devastated because of the teacher’s reaction and thrilled that Viktoria liked it. Her father would hear of the teacher rejecting her way of delivering her essay. If he’d been like the other fathers she’d observed, he’d tell the teacher off and make sure the headmaster knew what was fair.
“Your mother’s beautiful,” Viktoria said wistfully. “My mom’s nice and everything, but she’s not anywhere near as pretty as yours.”
Not quite sure how to deal with the change in topic, Sylvie thought fast. Her mother’s face was often displayed on the cover of tabloid magazines. In some she was alone, and in others she was holding onto Daniel’s arm. He in turn always looked handsome and distinguished. These pictures proved only one thing to Sylvie. Looks meant nothing. Her mother was beautiful on the outside and strong and kind on the inside. Daniel was handsome on the outside and impatient, arrogant, and ill-tempered on the inside.
“Want to come to my house tomorrow?” Viktoria asked. “My grandma’s visiting from up North, and she’s going to show me how to crochet.”
Crochet? Sylvie had tried it a few times in needlework classes at school, but her lack of patience for such things made her ask the teacher if she could paint on fabrics instead. Still, it could be fun. She hadn’t been invited anywhere for years.
“Sure. That sounds…interesting.” She smiled cautiously at Viktoria, who merely looked thrilled at the idea.
On her way home from school, Sylvie dared hope that she might have a real friend who wasn’t influenced by a parent who wanted to suck up to Daniel Thorn. If this turned out to be true, dictating that essay would be her best achievement yet.
Chapter Sixteen
Adirondacks—Present Time
“Please tell me you’re a coffee person?” Carolyn asked. “Annelie has been staying away from this beverage of the gods lately.” She stroked her auburn hair behind her ear and looked pleadingly at Sylvie.
Aeron had to hide a smile at how entranced Sylvie looked. No, dazed was a better word. It was one thing to know you were going to meet a world-famous actress and a whole different thing to actually do it. Yes, Helena and Noelle swore Carolyn was down-to-earth and very sweet in private, but all Sylvie could envision was how Carolyn portrayed Diana Maddox on the big screen—charismatic and commanding.
“I swear that wife of mine could persuade the most stubborn tea-drinker that they adored coffee instead.” Annelie Peterson, publisher and film producer, shook her head with a loving expression in her eyes. “She seems nice.”
“Good thing you married her then,” Aeron deadpanned. She and Annelie sat at the other end of the screened porch, observing Carolyn and Sylvie.
“What? Oh, you’re joking.” Chuckling, Annelie pinched Aeron’s side. “I meant your friend Sylvie, of course.”
“Yes, of course.” Smiling broadly, Aeron kept her eyes on the two over by the coffee station in their living room. “Sylvie’s very nice actually. She hid just how nice she was from me at first, though.”
“Smart move when you think about the cutthroat business she’s in. She seems quite guarded even now. Maybe I need to rescue her if she really doesn’t enjoy coffee?” Annelie asked.
“From what I’ve seen, she loves the stuff.”
“Oh, thank God. But let’s join them anyway. I want to know more about this woman.” They strolled over to the other two and sat down in the two wicker loveseats, everyone with their chosen beverage.
“Annelie told me you’re getting ready to film the next Maddox movie,” Aeron said. “Last time I was over, you were still debating whether to do that or a one-woman play first.” Aeron kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs up. Sylvie sat next to her, less relaxed but with a friendly expression. Her dark hair was arranged in a loose side-bun, and she wore jeans and a green golf shirt.
“I decided to do the movie first, since my producer gave me a chance to actually decide the time frame.” Carolyn took Annelie’s hand. “As we’re on schedule for something else in our lives as well, it fit perfectly.”
“What do you mean?” Aeron asked.
“We’re going to be parents in five months.” Annelie’s eyes glittered.
“What? Oh, that’s amazing!” Smiling brightly, Aeron pressed her hands against her cheeks. “That’s the best news ever.”
“Congratulations,” Sylvie said. “I wish you the very best, both of you.”
“I hope you make me an honorary aunt, and I have first dibs on babysitting.” Aeron took Sylvie’s hand and squeezed hard. She was so happy for the couple in front of them. They were such good friends and very loyal. They deserved all the happiness in the world. “What does Piper think? Where is she, by the way?”
“At the stables. She’s completely hooked on horses of all kinds, but mainly the pony I told you about. Annelie bought it for her since the owner had to sell it, as they were moving.” Carolyn turned to Sylvie. “We’re Piper’s guardians. She’s Annelie’s little sister, well, half-sister, and she’s lived with us for two years now. Even if she’s come a long way after losing her mother, she’s still sensitive to loss. Going through something similar with her beloved pony might have become too much, or so we feared.”
“I have a horse back in Sweden,” Sylvie said, surprising Aeron. “I’ve thought of selling him, but one of my parents’ gardeners has a daughter, Ingela, who ride
s him. And very successfully, I might add. She competes in dressage.”
“I’m sure the kid riding your horse feels like she won the lottery. All the fun and none of the bills.” Aeron realized she was still holding Sylvie’s hand. She let go but patted it before she pulled hers back completely. “Don’t sell him.”
“I’ll introduce him to you when we’re there.” Sylvie looked at Aeron with something entirely soft in her eyes. “I’m sure Ingela won’t mind us riding him.”
“Riding?” Aeron regretted taking a stand for the horse. She hadn’t counted on having to ride.
“Oh, the look on your face…” Annelie laughed. “And you’re going to Sweden, Aeron?”
“Yes. We plan to visit Sylvie’s childhood home and her parents. Besides, you’d look just like me if you were going to climb some enormous animal for the first time.” Aeron shuddered. “Can’t it be enough if I give him a bunch of carrots?”
“Aw, come on,” Sylvie said, clearly teasing her now. “You’ll be fine. If you don’t want to ride after meeting him, I won’t nag you.”
“Sure.” Looking skeptically at Sylvie, she then returned her focus to Carolyn and Annelie. “Either way, I couldn’t be happier for you regarding this baby. I can’t wait to meet him or her.”
“Same here.” Annelie patted her stomach. “I’m not showing much, but yesterday I thought I felt the tiniest flutter. And don’t tell me it’s just gas.” She glowered at Carolyn, who managed to laugh and look innocent at the same time.
“So, your agreement, which I understand you can’t share a lot about, means you’re joined at the hip?” Carolyn sipped her coffee and hummed with obvious pleasure as she studied Sylvie over the rim of the mug.
“When you put it that way…” Sylvie looked flustered. “I suppose it can seem like that. Maeve had some stipulations in her will, and we’re trying to honor those. Actually, we’re doing each other a few favors in the midst of everything. My parents are demanding, especially my father. Having Aeron with me as a distraction will help immensely.”
