Rebellion of a Chalet Girl: (A Novella) (Ski Season, Book 5)

by Lorraine Wilson

  “I enjoyed talking to you the other evening. I like being with you, Tash.” Nate’s voice was low, he edged closer so their sides were touching. The firelight filled the small wooden hut with an amber glow, the warmth mellowing Tash, softening her resolve.

  I’m lost. I can’t shut him out. Can’t say no.

  She turned to look at him, pleading with her eyes, desperate for him to understand…to help her. He felt like a man who might actually have the map she needed to move on. He was certainly the only man she’d ever met who’d noticed her scars, who’d noticed her - the girl beneath the pink striped hair and loud behaviour, the Natasha buried deep inside her. The only one who’d made her feel there might be more for her in life.

  She looked into his eyes, the connection she found there healing her, calming her down. Inspiring hope in her. He really believed in the stuff he preached. Maybe it wasn’t too late for her and she could finally stop running away.

  She had Sophie and Holly and the other girls too. They were her new family. If Nate walked away or broke her heart she’d survive, but a part of her dared to hope.

  Will I get my happy ending too?

  “I…I’m not sure.” She leaned against his comforting bulk, heart pounding wildly in her chest, feeling a little dizzy.

  “I like you Tash.” Nate replied carefully. “I like you a lot. I think there is something special between us, something different. Something worth pursuing..”

  “Oh?”

  She squeezed her eyes tight shut, her previous certainties now elusive, scattered by Nate’s words.

  “I just want to say one thing. Isn’t it time to stop rejecting people before they get the opportunity to reject you?” Nate asked. “Or am I going to have to invest in some running shoes?”

  Tash jerked in surprise and turned to stare at him.

  “What?” He raised an eyebrow. “You thought you were the only one who did that?”

  Of course she knew that was what she did, she did possess some self-awareness. But she’d been doing it for so long it had become an instinctive part of her.

  “Well it works.” She shrugged.

  How do you know me so well?

  Yet it felt like they did know each other. When she looked into his eyes it seemed like they’d known each other forever, like they were finding each other again, however crazy that sounded. And it felt like someone turned the dial up on reality. Everything felt ‘more.’ Better, brighter, sharper.

  Intensely alive.

  How could she turn her back on this? Something told her you only got one Nate per lifetime.

  Sophie would kill herself laughing if she could hear me. Who knew? I’m a romantic after all.

  “Works…how exactly?” Nate’s eyes shone as he leant forward, his neck so close she could smell citrus aftershave and his own unique scent. The scent that comforted her that night she ran off with his jacket and stopped her doing anything stupid. Somehow it had felt like he was with her.

  Desire rose up inside her, throbbing between her legs and in her breasts, her body rebelling against her mind,

  I’ve had enough meaningless sex to fill two lifetimes. I’ve had enough of never being considered special enough to be a proper girlfriend.

  The thought stung her into taking a step back. “It stops me getting hurt.”

  “Does it?” He asked, softening his tone. “Really?”

  He reached out to take one of her hands. She stared at his large hand wrapped around her own slender fingers.

  Is he dependable? A safe pair of hands? Someone I can trust?

  A sob burst out of her mouth before she could choke the pain back down. Nate stroked her hand.

  “I do get that you needed to do it when you were younger. The care system can be brutal, I do know.”

  She laughed bitterly. “Oh really? Do you?”

  In reply he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm tenderly, eyes fixed on her, not flinching from her pain.

  “So tell me,” he said. “Tell me what it was like.”

  “Do you know what it’s like to be eight years old and rejected for adoption because you’re getting too old to be cute and malleable?” Tash asked numbly. “Do you know what it’s like to be rejected for having too much baggage? It’s baggage I never even asked for, I had no control over it. I couldn’t help having nightmares.”

  She wouldn’t tell him about wetting the bed, she could feel the shame even now, of the wet nightclothes and the look of irritation on so many faces, even though some were nice and tried to hide their annoyance at the extra washing.

  Every irritated look was another brick in the wall she erected around herself, shutting them out. Only too late did she realise that in keeping them at bay she had walled herself in. A prison of her own making.

  “And now it’s happening again, isn’t it?” Tash felt silent tears coursing down her cheeks. “You might want to have sex with me but you’d never want someone like me as your girlfriend because you don’t do complicated. It’s okay, you did tell me upfront. It’s not your fault…but…I can’t help being really, really pissed off about it.”

  “What baggage?” Nate pulled her over so she was sitting half on his lap, cradled by his arms. “Tell me.”

  I want to feel safe, I want to relax, but how can I trust it? How can I trust him?

  She would’ve preferred an argument with him. Anger was so much easier to deal with than pain.

  But then she’d been using anger her whole life and she was sick of it. Sick of always being the bolshy one.

  “When I told you I was sibling free I was only telling you half the truth. I did have a sister, a baby sister, Eva.” Tash stared into the fire, watching the flames devouring the logs. “She died. Cot death.”

  “I’m really sorry to hear that.” Nate stroked Tash’s hair and a few of her muscles unclenched enough to allow her to relax into him. The warm bulk of him was comforting.

  It felt safe here, in the middle of nowhere, in this tiny hut with nothing but herself and Nate. A safe place to let out her secrets, like lancing a wound.

  Letting go.

  “Mum and Dad stopped talking to each other and it was like they forgot I existed. They were fenced in by this huge sadness and I couldn’t reach them. It felt like I hadn’t just lost a baby sister, I’d lost everything.” Tash burrowed deeper into Nate’s embrace. “But then I really did lose everything. Dad walked out because he just couldn’t deal with it. Then Mum…well…she opted out. Permanently. Killed herself. While I was at school. When she didn’t come to pick me up that day they called social services. Clearly I wasn’t worth sticking around for or staying alive for.”

  The surge of intense pain racked her body and she sobbed into him for a while. When the sobs were under control Nate cleared his throat.

  “Didn’t social services track your dad down after your mum died?” he asked.

  “No, they tried,” Tash replied, feeling numb, washed out by the waves of pain she’d held back for so long. “They think he went to Australia.”

  “What about relatives?”

  “My dad had fallen out with his family and Mum was an only child. I did have a gran but she’d had a stroke the year before and had moved into sheltered housing. I can see things more clearly now I’m older. I know Mum was suffering from depression, she’d had bad post natal depression after Eva was born. Also I think Gran probably did want me but she wasn’t allowed. But when you’re eight you don’t see things clearly. All I knew then was no one wanted me and I must be really unlovable if even my own parents didn’t love me.”

  Tash bit her lip. She wanted to curl her nails into her palms to control the pain but Nate held both her hands too firmly for her to pull away.

  “How did you cope with it?” he asked.

  “I stopped talking. I refused to cooperate with anyone, became a bit of a rebel.”

  “Really? I can’t imagine that.” Nate said, the corners of his lips twitching.

  Tash smiled wit
h him. It felt odd, smiling, when what they were talking about was so awful but Nate somehow made it all feel less terrible. Certainly better than having it all locked up inside her.

  “Some of the foster homes were okay,” she added. “But when I realised no one wanted to keep me permanently, I acted up. I felt so unbelievably angry. All the time. It got me nowhere though and I was just passed around the system, rejected over and over again. It was catch twenty-two, I acted up because no one wanted me and pretty soon no one wanted me because I acted up.”

  Tash looked up at Nate, the understanding she saw in his eyes comforted her.

  “I’m sorry, I must be boring you with all this, and this trip is supposed to be a work project so if you want me to shut up…” She bit her lip again, ready to shut down again, watching him closely and listening for any nuance in his tone that might indicate he wanted to recoil from her and her pain.

  Please don’t say yes, please want to know…

  “Tash.” Nate narrowed his eyes. “You know the saying ‘don’t ask a question you don’t want the answer to?’ Well I never ask anything I don’t want to know. It’s important, all this stuff, particularly if you’ve never really talked about it.”

  “I thought your philosophy was all about forgetting your past, not using it as an excuse.” She stared down at their entwined hands.

  “Yes, but sometimes the only way to get over your past is to confront it. Bring it out in the open, deal with it and then move on.” Nate asserted confidently.

  “You make it sound so easy.” Tash snorted. “Hey, no one loved me but never mind eh?”

  “Idiot,” Nate chided. “You know that’s not what I meant. And I never said it was easy.”

  Then he kissed her, lips covering hers with exquisite tenderness but before it could morph into a foreplay kiss he pulled back.

  “That was nice, come back.” Tash moved her face closer, lips parted.

  “Talk first, sex second,” he said sternly.

  “You are so strict.” she pretend pouted.

  It felt great to be teasing again, as though maybe the world wasn’t about to cave in on her after all.

  “Do you want me to put you over my knee?” Nate quirked a thick eyebrow.

  “Yes please.” She grinned.

  “But seriously, you know sex doesn’t solve everything?” he asked.

  “How do you know me so well?” Tash asked, staring at him.

  Nate shrugged. “You wouldn’t be the first to try and solve your problems with sex. I tried the sex and drink thing after the car accident but quickly realised that by doing it I was pressing both the pause and the mute button on my life.”

  Tash blinked hard. It felt like he knew everything about her, that he’d turned her inside out. Or maybe he’d talked to Holly. No, not Holly, she’d never say anything, but maybe Amelia wouldn’t be as guarded in sharing Tash’s sexual reputation.

  Sex had always been a way of getting some affection, however fleeting. There were times in her teens when it was the only affection she received at all. Yes she’d made friends but then they’d moved her on again and she’d had to start over. Until eventually there seemed no point bothering.

  They. The suits.

  But that’s the problem, it’s always fleeting, no one ever wants me for keeps. This thing with Nate is amazing but is it really going to last? Really?

  She shut her eyes and tried to concentrate on breathing. In and out. In and out. Trying to take the breath down lower.

  How would you know they didn’t want you for keeps? If you never gave anyone the chance to reject you, that means you never gave anyone a chance to accept you either…

  “Anyway, do you want to know…the rest?” She asked brusquely.

  “Yes, everything. You seem so sure I’ll reject you because of your baggage so tell me what it is and then I’ll tell you how we’re going to deal with it.”

  He sounded so sure, so confident. How did you get that assurance? The real kind, not the act she’d mastered which had served her pretty well until Nate came along and saw straight through her.

  “Okay,” she replied, her voice shaky. “I stopped caring, stopped hoping. I didn’t just reject people before they rejected me, I rejected the world. I broke whatever the house rules were in my foster placements. I picked fights. By the time I hit thirteen I’d already lost my virginity, knew where I could get drugs and truanted from school.”

  She glanced at Nate to see how he was taking this. His expression was impassive but his strong fingers still caressed hers, giving her confidence to continue.

  “It was when I was thirteen that I started to obsess about my mum’s suicide, like I was destined to end up the same. I didn’t know how many tablets I needed to take to die so I took lots, I just went into different supermarkets so I could get lots of packets of aspirin without anyone saying anything. I waited until my foster family had gone to bed and then I took them all.”

  Nate squeezed her hand.

  “It turns out that was what saved me.” Tash half smiled. “Too many tablets and you vomit them back up. After I threw up I knew I had to try something else. My foster parents locked up anything poisonous so I tried the drain cleaner I’d found in the neighbour’s shed. I mixed it with orange juice thinking I’d be able to get it down better but just threw it back up. The orange juice protected my throat from burns apparently. I was lucky again but at the time I just felt like it was another thing I couldn’t get right. I woke next morning with buzzing in my ears and felt like crap but I was…still alive. Then at school I broke down and told someone and the authorities swooped in and took me off to hospital. My foster mother didn’t want me back in the house in case my behaviour affected her real kids. They plonked me in an adolescent psychiatric unit for assessment.”

  She stopped and defiantly scanned Nate’s face for any sign of disgust but there was none.

  “Go on,” Nate squeezed her hand.

  Tash sighed. “We had these God-awful group therapy sessions with social workers and doctors. I can still picture my social worker. He had this mangy beard and there always seemed to be bits of food stuck in it. He kept on wanting to talk about sex. I still hate beards even now. Anyway, most of the other patients were either harming themselves in the toilets or taking drugs that’d been smuggled in.”

  “Was that when you started?” Nate asked, sliding a hand up her arm with the scars.

  “Yes.” Tash stared down at the floor. “I learnt how to cope in hospital alright but not quite the way they planned. I cut myself or inhaled lighter fuel to blot out pain whenever alcohol and sex couldn’t do the job.”

  “Were you diagnosed with anything?”

  “They said there was nothing wrong with me mentally, I was just a…very sad little girl.” She gulped, steeling herself not to break down. “I remember the words they used even now. I was supposed to have counselling when I got out but it never got arranged. No one wanted me after the unit so I ended up in a children’s home. Then I knew I had to rely on myself. My teen years weren’t very happy, it’s fair to say.”

  She laughed, bitterly. “But as I got older I found it easier to process stuff without the need to get off my head or punish my body. When I was eighteen I moved in with a guy just to get a roof over my head. We came to Europe travelling and when we split I stayed. The end. No more baggage to declare.”

  She sighed, feeling empty but strangely peaceful.

  Relieved.

  She’d never told anyone the whole lot. She’d let the odd fact slip through her defences but never everything. Not in one go.

  “I do understand.” Nate kissed her hair. “I understand you got a really shit deal and you did what you needed to protect yourself. But you’ve practically turned it into an art form and you don’t need it as a defence mechanism any more.”

  “Why not?” Tash closed her eyes, inhaling Nate’s scent again and the faint aroma of wood smoke from the fire.

  I’ll remember this when he’s gone. I
can close my eyes and imagine he’s next to me.

  “Because you’re not that little girl anymore, needing someone to look after you. Back then if you’d trusted someone and they let you down it would’ve been the end of the world, or at least it would have felt like it. But now you’re a strong, independent woman.” Nate’s fingers dipped down over her chest, brushing the curve of her breasts.

  She shuddered beneath his fingers, the physical sensations soothing the turbulent emotions. She almost might believe anything Nate said when his lips were on her skin and his low, oh so masculine voice talked her into that wonderful, alternate universe he inhabited where everything was possible.

  If only it could be. If only. If only I could have my own happy ending.

  “I am?” She nestled against him a small sigh escaping her lips.

  “Sure you are.” He rested his palm against the flat of her stomach and currents of desire rippled through her from where his fingers curled against her. “Survivors are strong. If you’ve never had to deal with crap you’re not strong, you’re simply untested. Now, will you open your eyes?”

  “No,” Tash replied, shaking her head, still afraid of the pity or disgust she’d surely find in Nate’s eyes.

  “Please?” Nate’s fingers stroked her breasts, stirring the currents of sexual desire, making her nipples ache and strain to meet him through the fabric of her hoodie.

  Tash opened her eyes and stared up into Nate’s dark blue-grey eyes, searching them intently, feeling the familiar jerk of connection. Familiar, yet always a shock somehow. The connection was so vivid she suddenly understood what the ever-present dull ache in her chest had been - disconnection.

  She’d disconnected herself from the world around her, never truly sharing anything of herself, never really letting anyone in, never allowing a sexual fling get to the point where emotional intimacy might follow.

  This is what I’ve been missing. This is what falling in love feels like.

  The thought scared her.

  He could hurt me, really hurt me. And he doesn’t do complications…

  “But you don’t do complicated,” she blurted, unable to bear having sex with him again knowing it might be the last time. She needed…something from him. Nothing big, after all they’d only just met but some indication she actually meant something to him would be enough. Wouldn’t it?