by J. C. Hughes
“Come with me,” I said, and walked to the exit. He tailed me.
When I opened the door, my skin ran cold. Blocking the exit was Duran Laird. I could not comprehend how he was everywhere that I was. There was no time to think about it. His furious energy burned me, so I slowly backed away until I hit into Gurt who had halted behind me. It was a second that felt like an eternity until chaos broke.
All of a sudden I felt myself being unceremoniously shoved forward. I crushed into Duran and he skidded back. Together we fell to the floor. Gurt had pushed me in order to get away. In one swift movement, the Viking tossed me aside without a care. I fell away from Duran, hitting my head hard against the floor. In slow motion I watched as my strong former lover grabbed a dagger from my archenemies waist and stabbed him in the chest.
I screamed in absolute shock. Pulling out the dagger, Gurt gave me one brief look and then made a run for it. My blood pumped. Duran was helplessly clutching his chest and bleeding. And there was Gurt, running away and leaving my life for good.
And as any insanely in love girl would do, I chose my poison. I was going to pursue my lover. Clutching my aching head, I jumped over Duran’s body and pursued him. Little did I realize at the time that true love always runs towards and never away. I was too desperate to know.
The winter festivities had drawn everyone to the bonfire so it was not difficult for Gurt to run out of the village unnoticed. I ran after him, as fast I could. He didn’t slow down at all until he was safely away from the village.
“Stay away from me.” He pointed the bloody dagger at me.
Despite his warning, I moved closer to him. He had made a mistake and I was willing to forgive it. He didn’t see it that way and when I was within arms-reach, he lashed out and slapped me with the back of his hand. I crunched to the ground, stunned. He stared down at me with spite.
“Your house will be the first one I torch when I return with my squad.”
And just like that, he disappeared into the night and out of my life. Once again, I had been rejected. And so, too ashamed to go back, I exiled myself.
Chapter Seven
Alone in the wild, I no longer had to try to fit in. Alone, I could be myself. I loved myself and if others chose not to love me, I could easily separate myself from them. And in my self-exile, all the happenings of the clan evaded me.
It was only when I was picking wild mushrooms a few days later that I sensed someone approaching me. Cautiously, I turned. Deep within I had been hoping it was Gurt who had come back to me with an apology. It was not. It was aunt Welda. I wasn’t too surprised to see her because she usually sought herbs out in the wild. She also knew me well enough to know it’s where I’d be.
“You’ve chosen the hermit life?” she said without greeting.
“I didn’t choose the hermit life, the hermit life chose me.”
Shaking her head, Welda said, “This is a déjà vu. I can’t let that be.” Then she bent down and started picking wild mushrooms as well. I joined her.
“What are you talking about?”
“Remember when you spoke of your mother and I told you that was not my version of the story?” I nodded. “Turns out, I never really told you the whole story.”
I sat on the ground feeling resigned. There was only so much more I could take and I wasn’t quite sure I could handle the truth that Welda was about to divulge. She didn’t asked permission and after eighteen years, revealed it anyway.
“Your mother, once upon a time, was young and lovely. In fact, I see her every time I look at you. And just like you, she had problems in love. Your father was a warrior who was killed in battle and she never loved any man after him.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” I asked.
“Because she made the same choice you are making now. Your mother was a singer, just like you and more, her song had the potency to heal. One day, Chief Laird’s wife, Duran’s mother fell seriously ill but your mother was away on a mundane errand and by the time she returned, it was too late. Duran lost his mother. Then you lost your mother to self-exile and I ask you not to do the same.”
“You and I both know I have no place in the Laird clan.”
“Nonsense!”
“I will not return.”
“Haven’t you been listening?” Welda’s lined face contorted in anger. “Duran Laird will die if you don’t.”
I spiraled upright. It came to me like a flash flood. In my self-absorbed pity party I had forgotten that Duran had been stabbed by the man I had once loved. I covered my mouth with a hand.
“Don’t look so surprised!” she scolded me. “Life is not just about you, it is about the bigger picture.”
“But what can I do?”
Welda gnashed her teeth. She hit my head. “Your mother failed to save someone with her potent voice because she was being silly.”
“But my mother could sing.”
“You can sing!”
Then it hit me. People were enchanted by my voice because of its potency. I had never known this but now it made sense. Gurt hadn’t been attracted to me at all. He had been drawn by my magical voice. I stared at Welda, stunned.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”
“It was because I didn’t want you to live your life weighed down by responsibility. If you were to be a healer songstress, I wanted it to be on your own terms but as I can see, you are too thick to even know yourself.”
I jumped to my feet. The urgency of the situation made me shake with fervor. Duran Laird needed me. I wouldn’t fail him. I would redeem my mother of her prior mistake. Welda smiled at me. Her annoyance had fled once I’d come to the realization of who I was, who I was meant to be. It was time for redemption.
Chapter Eight
My feet carried me as fast as the wind. I was returning home knowing who I was. I was returning home with a purpose. I did not care for the busy-bodies who stared at me as I ran to Chief Laird’s compound. All I knew was that I was not going to make the same mistake as my mother.
In my haste, I made for Duran’s quarters. As I made a sharp turn inside, I heard laughter before I ran head on into Beatrice and Wallace laughing flirtatiously outside Duran’s door. I halted quickly but they had already seen me. Their laughter faded. Wallace gave me cold glare and then gesture with his head that Beatrice go elsewhere with him. Surprised, I watched them disappear around a corner.
Suddenly nervous, I took in a deep breath before letting myself into the room. Chief Laird and a couple of elders were in there too but my eyes were only for Duran. I was taken aback to see how emaciated he had become. His dark hair was the only part of his body that was still glowing. Sadness captured my heart. I stood staring at him for a long moment. I was almost too late. Duran had sunk out of consciousness.
The sound of a cane knocking against the floor stirred me out of my trance. Welda entered soon after. She stood behind me. I looked at her, unsure what to do. She grimaced.
“Sing, silly!”
I blinked. In my haste I had forgotten what it was I had run miles for. Promptly, I sat down beside Duran and clasped his hand in mine. Then, with the bravest voice I could conjure, I sang.
“Hearts break when pain is raw,
Though your heart be shattered,
Live to see another day,
Hearts break when enemies wound,
Though your pain be raw,
Live to see another day,
For I’m just a girl who loved a man,
Live so I can love again…”
My voice trailed off. I waited a moment. He did not stir.
“He’s not getting better.” I cried.
“Patience, my child,” Welda said.
One by one, the elders started to leave. Duran had not healed. He had not gotten better. Chief Laird was the last of them to rise. He walked to me and put a reassuring hand on my shoulder.
“I never held your mother responsible for the loss of my wife. When pain visits, it is easier
to put the blame on ourselves or others, but the truth is, there is not much in life we can control,” he said.
Tears welled in my eyes. “I am so sorry. It is all my fault. I wasn’t there when he needed me.”
“Hush my child. You are here now.” Chief Laird said, and then ambled out of the room. Welda gave me an encouraging nod and then followed the chief out.
For days I refused to leave Duran’s side. I sang to him until my voice was hoarse. Though he showed no signs of improvement, I was not going to let him die. If he did, I knew for certain that I would lose myself again and then not even self-exile would redeem me.
Eventually, I was the only one by his side. Even his bride to be Beatrice had gotten tired of paying him visits and Wallace didn’t show up to avoid me altogether. It was Welda who kept me going. She helped me tend to Duran even as he wasted away. And the more I was by his side, the images of Gurt became a distant memory. All I thought about was Duran and making him better.
Then one cold day, fate smiled upon me. My head was rested on his arm and I was fast asleep when a hand touched my hair. I startled awake. Instantly my gaze locked into the most profound eyes I could ever care to be lost in. Duran was awake.
“Loyalty,” he said in a gruff voice.
“Huh?”
“You came back and stayed by my side, even when you aren’t really fond of me.”
“Shhh.” I stood up. It was late at night but I wanted to fetch Welda immediately. I wanted someone else to confirm I wasn’t dreaming. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back beside him.
“Lay beside me, tonight. The news can wait,” he said.
I shuddered despite myself. “I have lain beside many men including the lonely, the perverted, and the enemy. I am not worthy to lay by your side.”
He smirked weakly. “What use is the past when we have the present?” He pulled me closer and I obliged.
Reluctantly, I positioned myself next to him and propped my head on his arm as if it were a pillow. In silence we both faced the ceiling. Never before had I been comfortable with silence.
In every other relationship I had had, a man had wanted something from me so lying next to Duran without doing anything made me feel at peace. And for the first time I realized that perhaps true love was not about the fire but about the calm.
With my hands intertwined in Duran’s, I was certain this winter would not be so cold after all.
THE END
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“THIEF IN THE LIGHT”
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- Chapter 1 -
"Damn it!" I breathed through my teeth as I lost my balance for the tenth time. I was practicing my coordination exercises, staring intently at the wall of mirrors in front of me. I furrowed my eyebrows, trying to figure out what was making me unsteady. I looked at my shoes’ reflection and wondered briefly if I should order new heels.
As I inspected my shoes, I heard the door open behind me and I turned to see Nancy, the hard-ass owner of the dance studio to which I was employed; she squinted slightly as she walked into the room. I always turned off half the lights while practicing as I hated harsh, artificial lights.
"Jenny, how can you see anything in here?" She flipped them back on as I walked to the stereo and dialed down the music as she tried to speak over the volume.
“...as you know, this showcase is going to be one of the largest since I opened the studio. So, I've decided to hire one of the best ballroom dance coaches in the city to come and assist in preparing the students. I’m going to leave time for him to help coach all of the teachers as well. Can you come in early tomorrow so that you can get introduced and discuss time-slots for your training?” This was not a question. That was the thing about Nancy. Even if it sounded like a question, she expected you to say yes.
“Alright, that’s no problem, Nancy.” I smiled as she nodded and walked back towards the door, pausing for a moment.
“I also need you to pause what you’re doing and help John with his couple’s lesson in ten minutes.”
She left the door open as she exited. I sighed. Early. No problem, Nance, it’s not like it’s my anniversary or anything. I knew her too well by now to bring up my special day. Nancy wasn’t a very sentimental person, and in the two years I’d known her, I knew nothing about her. But she knew a fairly good deal about me. On the few occasions that I had let a fight between Elliot and I affect my attitude, she had immediately pulled me into her office.
At first, I thought she was just berating me for my unprofessionalism. But I came to learn that it was also her strange way of showing concern for my life outside of work. She had never approved of Elliot, and she was very up front in her belief that he was holding me back from a lot of things. I thanked her for her advice every time, but mentally brushed them off as soon as I left the office. I wasn’t about to let an emotional robot give me love advice.
I shook my head as I shut off the stereo and turned off the lights.
***
“Did she forget that it’s our anniversary or something?” Elliot shifted his weight and turned from his desk to look at me. I walked over and sat on his lap, grabbing his arms and wrapping them around me.
“Oh, honey, I doubt it. I’m still technically the new girl, since Nancy is too picky to hire any of the applicants we’ve had. So I’m basically still the studio 'baby'. I’m really sorry though, can we take a rain-check?” I leaned in and kissed him, pouting a little.
“Hmm. You’ll have to make it up to me tomorrow night.” He kissed my neck and squeezed me. I giggled a little and nuzzled him.
“Alright, I’d better check on the pasta,” I said, getting up, but he pulled me back down.
“Oh, no you don’t. The toll is a minimum of 5 smooches.” I kissed him four times in a row, making a loud smacking sound. I pulled back and looked on his desk. Elliot was a pretty successful comic book artist, and he had left the company to work independently in his office.
“Is this your new story? What’s this one about again?”
“Oh, I scrapped that one. I kind of hit a wall. I’ve been brainstorming all day.”
I tilted my head in disapproval. “Elly, you can’t scrap every idea that isn’t perfect. You’d meet more submissions if you just stuck with the ones you have.”
“Babe, you don’t get it. I can’t just put out whatever comes to mind. I have to be happy with it or I’ll end up hating myself for submitting it, especially if no one bites.”
I internally rolled my eyes. The smell of burning pasta caught my attention and I hurried out of the kitchen.
***
I woke up to morning doves singing loudly outside my window. Stretching out my long, limber limbs and collecting my messy red hair, I rolled over and kissed Elliot’s shoulder. He was breathing softly, and I laid and stared at him for a long time. He stirred and I kissed him first on the arm, and then the neck, and then the cheek. He turned and kissed me on the lips, and sleepily pulled the covers to his chin and fell back asleep. I rubbed my eyes and rolled out of bed. It was 6:00 AM. I made a cup of my strongest tea and took a long, hot shower.
When I arrived at the studio an hour later, I didn’t see Nancy’s car. Oh, so you expect me to be here early, but you apparently get to sleep in. I pushed the negative thought out of my head, and yawned as I ascended the stairway, s
ipping on my second cup of tea. I bet this coach guy is going to be some ridiculous asshole, just like the last one. I don’t care how good at dancing you are, you’re not absolved of being pretentious about it.
I took out my keys and began to unlock the studio door, but was startled to find that it was already unlocked. I opened it slowly, and cautiously walked inside. Binghamton wasn’t the most dangerous city in New York, but I was paranoid out of principle. I spent most of my childhood in the heart of New York City, and never quite lost my tendency for imagining dangerous possibilities. I balled up my fist and proceeded carefully, checking all of the door handles of the offices on the way through. Finally, I reached the ballroom, and stopped just as I was reaching the corner. There was a shadow moving across the ballroom, almost soundlessly, and I could hear breathing. That’s when I heard the faint sound of Frank Sinatra playing on the main stereo, and I peeked around the corner, almost running straight into the shadow’s owner.
“Ooof!” I screeched loudly. I looked up and froze for a moment. I was staring into the most incredible eyes I'd ever seen. I was never much for brown eyes, but these were the same shade as a willow tree, and beautiful.
“Ah, I’m sorry about that.” The man spoke with a velvety, yet gravelly voice.
He had cropped brown hair that curled perfectly on the top of his head, and was both tall and lean in stature. I realized that I must have been staring at him a little too long, because he began to look at me curiously. I looked down and realized that my balled up fist was resting in his palm; I had almost reflexively punched him in the stomach. And he had reflexively blocked it without any noticeable effort.
