The Weeping Books of Blinney Lane

by Drea Damara

  Submerged in the cold water, Ricky felt pressure against his head. Drown, he told himself. Drown. How the hell do you drown?

  Several bubbles crept out of his mouth and trailed upward. He looked up and saw three warbled faces gazing down at him. He felt the urge to cough and tried to suppress it. The result was the last of his breath forcing its way out of his mouth. He heard the high-pitched squeal of his moan echo inside of his skull as he tried to withstand the rising pressure in his chest. When he could bear the lack of air no more, he started to rise instinctively. He pushed when he felt something prevent him from coming up, but the force pushed back. Ricky looked up and saw his aunt above him. She stepped into the tub as she forced her weight down on him, both of her hands on his shoulders.

  Ricky tried to shake her off, tried to stretch his neck upward hoping his lips would reach the surface, but a withered hand appeared and forced his head back down. Netta! Netta, too? This couldn’t be happening! His father and aunt couldn’t have done this! No one could do this! His aunt was crazy, and now he was going to die like a wet rat in front of Shelby!

  He flailed against the sides of the tub, but his aunt’s legs pressed tight against his thighs, leaving him no room for leverage. There was no way he could push her off him, and he grew weaker with each passing second. His lungs burned, the water stung his nasal passage, and the more he willed himself not to, the more he sucked in the water. Just as he thought the pinnacle of the fire in his lungs would climax and burst them, everything went black, and he felt nothing.

  FARWIN WOOD

  SHELBY SAT on the floor against the kitchen wall, her legs pulled up to her chest, weeping uncontrollably. Sarah grasped her shoulder, causing the girl to jump.

  “It’s all right, Shelby. He’s gone,” she said.

  Shelby smacked her arm away. Why wouldn’t she after she’d just watched her drown Ricky in the water barrel? She didn’t try to stop the girl when she hurried over to the barrel, likely looking for Ricky’s lifeless body.

  “It worked, Shelby. It’s okay.” Sarah tried to sound soothing. “I’m sorry if it scared you.”

  Shelby gasped. She looked at Netta, whose eyes were still fixed on the tub in disbelief.

  “Miss, he disappeared right before my eyes. I didn’t want to believe it myself, but Sarah would never do that if she didn’t think it would work,” Netta said reassuringly. It had probably been easier for Netta to accept since she’d long thought she had drowned in the River Duke.

  Shelby wiped her eyes with her damp sleeve and regained her composure. “I’m sorry, Sarah.”

  “Oh, sweetie. Don’t apologize. Believe me—it terrified even me.”

  Sarah changed into one of her old gowns Netta had hidden away and returned to the kitchen. Shelby was curiously listening to Netta explain the recipes she was cooking. Sarah smiled at the sight but felt the pang of melancholy standing before the scene in the kitchen.

  Had she stayed in Farwin Wood, would she have had children? A daughter like Shelby, perhaps? Would she have noticed the new lines on Netta’s face each passing year instead of seeing them all at once some twenty years later? It would soon be time to say goodbye to Netta again. Forever. She forced herself to smile through her last dinner at Allister Hall.

  Dergus joined the women in the great room. He convinced Netta to bring him some beetleburry ale, and although she put up a fuss, Sarah imagined it was much less sincere than usual. Shelby seemed to delight in the stories the two old people told and cooed at the tastes of Netta’s cooking. Sarah would occasionally glance at the door each time she heard a sound out in the street beyond the courtyard, wondering if it was Vasimus. When they’d finished, Dergus left to return to the gate, but not before he gave a knowing look to Sarah. He understood full well that Vasimus might return, and he would alert her immediately if he did.

  Sarah and Shelby helped Netta clear the table and return everything to the kitchen. Netta tried to scold them, but they ignored her, and the table was empty in no time. Shelby helped Sarah wash the dishes, and they both looked to the window as the sun set, knowing Shelby’s time to go home was soon upon them. Shelby sighed now and then, glancing over at the barrel, but she would return a smile to Sarah letting her know shethat accepted what must be done.

  Netta called to Sarah when she was certain that nearly five hours had passed since Ricky had plunged into the water barrel. The women walked over to the barrel, and Netta brushed the hair from Shelby’s face with a loving smile. She patted Shelby’s cheek and said, “I’m so glad you made it back here safely, my dear.”

  “Thank you for the lovely dinner,” Shelby responded. She turned to Sarah then and gave her a hug.

  Sarah laughed and hugged her back. “Well, what is that for? You’ll see me soon.”

  “I know, but do you remember the first time I met you?”

  Sarah tried to recall how old Shelby had been. Not more than ten. “Yes, I suppose. Why?”

  “You told me a book can take you anywhere,” Shelby answered with a smile.

  “Ha. I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “Well, I’m glad it was one of your books and that you were here with me.”

  Sarah didn’t know whether to revel in the lovely compliment or cry over the circumstances that had brought them all there. She chose to smile in spite of herself, knowing that in the next few minutes Shelby at least would be safely back where she belonged. She choked away the tightness in her throat. “Up you go, hon.”

  Shelby disappeared more easily and quickly in the water than Ricky, likely because she had seen it done already and because she was much more fearless than Sarah’s nephew. Sarah rolled her dress sleeves back down and wrung out the portion that had been soaked. Netta remained peering over the edge of the barrel into the water, which was dark now that the sun had set.

  “She’s gone, Netta. I felt her slip away,” Sarah said delicately as she wrung out her sleeves.

  “I know. I was just wondering—do you think that would work on Dergus?” The old woman’s expression was one of hopefulness.

  “Netta!” Sarah tried not to laugh but couldn’t help herself.

  After another hour, Sarah bid Netta good night. She walked out to the gate and handed a note to one of Vasimus’s guards. She’d rather request that Vasimus come to her than have him show up unannounced. She expected the shock might be less injurious to her system that way.

  “Please take this to your lord this evening. I’m sorry it is so late, but I request his presence here tomorrow if he is free,” Sarah told the man who’d first tried to stop Dergus when she’d arrived at Allister Hall.

  The man took the note with hesitation. “Yes, m’lady but—” The man looked over at the unmanned tower where his comrade usually stood above the gate.

  She followed his line of sight and realized she had not seen the other guard since she returned from Groslivo’s. “But you’ve already sent him word that I have returned, haven’t you?”

  “Yes, m’lady. It was his wish.”

  “And will he be here in the morning?”

  “I suspect he will, but I will send Slaunacht back with your message if he brings other news,” the man said and put her note in his belt pouch.

  “Thank you.” She grimaced and returned to the hall.

  She took a candle up the dark stairwell to her room and set it on the bedside table. Falling asleep proved difficult in spite of how exhausted she was. She wondered what Vasimus would look like, what his voice would sound like, how she would react to him, and how he would react to her. When she didn’t think of him, she wondered if Ricky had made it to the hospital with the book and if Shelby had miraculously awoken from her “coma” for her dear parents’ sake. Finally, able to convince herself that the sooner she fell asleep the sooner she would know the answer to these questions, Sarah drifted off.

  Without feeling she had slept a wink, Sarah flinched at the sound of rapping on her bedroom door. She opened her eyes to see the morning light creeping o
ver the treetops and into her bedroom window.

  “Lady Sarah!” Dergus called from behind the door.

  “Yes?” her hoarse voice cried out.

  The banging stopped and was followed by a pause. “He’s here.”

  She whipped her legs over the side of the bed. “All right! Give me a moment!”

  Her heart fluttered as she tugged off the dress that she’d fallen asleep in and exchanged it for the one she had worn to Farwin Wood. She ran her old brush through her hair, still damp from being splashed when she’d sent Shelby and Ricky home. It settled in long waves over her shoulders. She let out a deep breath as she looked down at herself, satisfied she had everything she needed in case she needed to flee to water. She gasped when she spotted her bracelet on the floor and scrambled to fasten it to her wrist.

  “Get a grip,” she muttered aloud. “Hello, how are you? Sorry I faked my death and didn’t call the last twenty years. Oh, and please stop fighting. That’s all there is to it,” she mumbled and stared at the door. One last huff of air for confidence and she yanked the door open.

  As she descended the stairs, she listened to the sound of steps pacing back and forth across the great room floor. The clank of metal told her that Vasimus wore his sword and shin knee guards. She’d only seen him wear the guards during fencing matches and the sound made her sad. After being in battle for years, they’d probably become part of his daily dress.

  With only a few steps more, Sarah put a hand on the wall to steady herself. When Vasimus’s back came into view, she froze at the sight of him. The black hair she remembered running her fingers through hung a little longer than she’d ever seen it, likely neglected from his hasty lifestyle. She knew she had to make it down the last few steps but felt paralyzed as Vasimus turned, and she saw his face for the first time in eighteen years.

  She brought a hand to her stomach at the sight of his ragged but still handsome face. She wanted to run away in fear of how he would react, in fear of what had happened to him to make him the way everyone claimed him to be. Another part of her wanted to run to him and reclaim the feelings she had had so long ago, but it didn’t seem right for so many reasons.

  The scrape of his sword tip against his leg guards ceased as he turned. His light blue eyes fixed on her and he froze. “Sarah.”

  Sarah took a shaky step, her hand grazing the stone wall. Her knees wobbled, and her fingertips began to sweat against the cloth of her gown. She tried to speak, but nothing came out.

  Vasimus approached the base of the stairs. The sheer height of him was intimidating. She remembered the times he would lift her off her feet and twirl her around like she weighed no more than a feather.

  “I cannot believe my eyes,” he said hoarsely.

  “Vasimus…” she finally whispered. “You…you look well.”

  Vasimus watched her every movement as she spoke, and a look of pain came over him. He took the final step between them and held up a hand but left it in the air just before her chin. His eyes studied her face.

  Sarah trembled under the sensation of his breath on her skin. She could smell the sweet scent of the herb water he washed his hair with and the aroma of forest on his clothes. He was still so very real, no matter how long he had labored silently in the closed book she’d kept at the back of her shop. He was as real as the day she had left him. He had grown into a middle-aged man. He was human, very human, with a human life and human feelings.

  Suddenly, she was overcome with guilt for not returning, not sending word that she lived, not bringing this tired man some peace. She realized she had never found her own peace either. The scent of him and the sight of his chest moving in and out were too much for her to bear, and tears fell from her eyes. She closed them in an effort to block him out of her life again.

  The feel of his calloused fingers against her face caused another tear to stream down her face. The knowledge that he had swung his sword in violence, partially at her expense, devastated her. She reached up to clasp her fingers around his and pressed his palm to her cheek. How many times she’d longed for a touch from a loving hand, but there were none at her disposal.

  “Sarah, don’t cry, darling. These hands will not hurt you,” Vasimus’s husky voice said.

  “I am so sorry I did not return. I couldn’t leave Blinney, but I would have had I known what happened here.” She sniffled and looked at him through her tears.

  Vasimus brought his other hand up to cup her face. Without a trace of anger, he simply stated, “Just a word, Sarah. A word would have been enough to brighten my door from grieving for you.”

  “You would have tried to come to me but wouldn’t have been able.” She shook her head against his hands. “I couldn’t pull you away from your lands to search aimlessly for me. And if I sent word that I lived, but did not return,” she stared at him as he listened to her frantic logic, “I feared you would grow so bitter that it would destroy you from the man I knew.”

  “Should you not have left those decisions in part to me?” he asked delicately and stroked one of her tears away with his thumb.

  “Vasimus, if I could not be with you, I would rather you thought me dead instead of continuing to hope. I remember you said you’d wait for me. If I were not alive to be waited for, I hoped that it would release you to love again, to find happiness that I could not give you. Can you understand that is why I remained silent all these years? Why would I come back only to tempt you with something we could never have?”

  “You just gave me up? Without any thought of me?” Vasimus’s voice rose.

  “No, I have thought of you every day.” She hated that her words came out blubbered.

  “How could you think of me every day, knowing exactly where I was?” he said, his voice growing angry.

  She let out a ragged breath and answered, “Very painfully.”

  Vasimus drew her to him and held her tightly to his chest. She grasped the sides of his shirt and felt comfort in his arms, yet it was mixed with a foreign sensation after having not been held by him in so long.

  A moment passed and his grip on her loosened. He raised her chin with his fingers and murmured before her lips, “I think we have both hurt long enough.” As the last word left his mouth, he brought his lips to hers and kissed her.

  Too weak from her distress and unable to get the words out to stop him, Sarah let his lips hungrily part hers. His hand dove through her hair, and he pulled her head deeper into his kiss. Her legs went from trembling to numb at the sensation he still stirred inside of her. She thought she would faint from excitement and lack of air, but his mouth finally released her with his own panting breath. In her daze, she inhaled another scent of his shirt as his kisses moved across her forehead and down to her cheek.

  “Come with me. Come back with me to Daundecort Hall,” he whispered in the gruffly tempting voice she remembered from her last summer there.

  “No.”

  “I don’t like you being here, so close to Groslivo’s lands and the bandits who plague this place. Come back with me, Sarah.”

  Vasimus started for her lips again, but she shook out of her euphoria long enough to push against his chest and look up at him. “I can’t. I’m leaving today.”

  “Today? When will you be back?”

  Sarah said nothing as she looked at him. She swallowed to brace herself for his reaction, knowing no words would assuage him.

  “Will you come back?”

  She shook her head slowly. “I cannot, Vasimus.”

  Vasimus pushed away from her. He stepped down the stairs to the great room and stared down, hands on hips like he was fuming. He looked up at her but said nothing, then turned his back on her and asked, “Why did you come here, Sarah?”

  “A girl from my court got lost, and I learned that she came to Farwin Wood. I came to return her safely home.”

  “You did not come here to see me, did you?”

  “No,” she said softly. “I came for the girl. She left last night with my nephew.�
�� Sarah thought she heard a scoff as his shoulders raised.

  “Yes, I had the pleasure of meeting Lord Ricky. I see your brother has fared well in love.” His words were bitter.

  “He did not choose well, Vasimus. His wife left him long ago. They no longer share the same home.” She didn’t quite know how to explain divorce to him, having never heard of it in Farwin Wood.

  He glanced back at her, his expression annoyed, and raised a brow. “It wouldn’t be the first time your brother did not choose well.”

  “His wife—looked very much like Deronda. I believe that was the only attraction. He’s never loved again.”

  “Then that makes two of us, Sarah. How can you claim I would find happiness again in thinking you were dead if your own beloved brother could not do the same?” His words seethed with derision.

  “Because the only alternative was to let you know that I lived, but that we could never be together.” She found strength in her own voice finally and took the last step down to the great room. He was being unreasonable. He was hurt, she comprehended that, but still he had to see how knowing she lived was not a better solution than thinking her dead.

  “I cannot believe that it is impossible as you do. You are here, Sarah.” Vasimus’s hostility turned to a pained pleading again. “You are here! How is it that something so important brought you here, but I am not one of those things? I think perhaps you just don’t want to admit that our precious feelings have died on your part. Is that it? Was that the only death that has occurred?”

  “I am here but a day in nearly twenty years! One day in twenty years would have been enough for you? I have to rule Blinney. My parents died, and Richard went away. How can I leave my people, just as you can’t leave yours?” Sarah felt foolish for claiming to rule a street in Salem, but Vasimus was making her act foolish.