Key to My Heart: An Anthology of Sweet Romance

by Alice La Roux

  Jakob Brook is impossible to resist, and I don’t want to resist anymore.

  We walk a little way, Tessa prancing between us, towards the nearby fields and hills where dog-walkers congregate. It’s quiet this early in the morning, the peace that the first morning rays bring having not yet been obliterated by humans. It’s just us, and Tessa and the twittering bird symphony above.

  Brook guides me down a lane, Tessa’s excitement level telling me we’re nearing our destination just as we reach an ancient, dilapidated wooden stile that looks as if it’ll give lethal splinters. Fun. Brook unclips Tessa’s lead, and I laugh as she immediately barrels under the stile into the first field, charging round in big, looping circles. Then I watch as, being tall and sure-footed, he uses the stile steps like any ordinary steps in a house. The show off.

  He turns to me and offers a hand and a challenging smirk. “Need help on your sea legs, mermaid?”

  This friendship thing is such a boob ache. Now we’re mocking my inherent clumsiness? We’ll see about that.

  “Har har,” I reply, dripping sarcasm and shooting him the finger. As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, I take a few springing steps, place my hands on the flat top of the stile and monkey vault over it with fluent ease. I land toe to toe with him, a position that is all the better to see that shock and awe look with.

  His hand reaches up to brush a stray strand of hair out of my face. “Where did you learn to do that?” He looks impressed and his pupils dilate slightly as he drops his gaze to my lips momentarily.

  I lick them nervously.

  “Um…” I forget my words as I’m held captive in his gaze, and when I finally do speak, I end the statement like a question. “I… I take parkour classes back home?”

  “And there’ve been no injuries?” he teases, the smile in his voice infectious.

  “Oh shut up!” I laugh, shoving his arm with my shoulder and then sprinting up the hill in front of me. He chases behind me but he doesn’t catch me so easily. He’s fast. I’m faster.

  I fling my arms out when I reach the top, preparing to celebrate, but my words are lost. We’re so raised above the world here, and it’s such a clear day that I can see so many beautiful miles in every beautiful, heart-stopping direction. I sigh. I feel on top of the world in this moment, the countryside flaring behind me like the most breathtaking cape and the coast caressing the horizon in front of me. I. See. It. All.

  I am a medieval queen assessing a stunning kingdom. I am a mermaid, the surroundings my siren call; sailors are so easily lured to this striking beauty. I am me: stuttering heart, quivering soul, captivated by staggering emotion and splendid life.

  I am free. I am safe. I am hopeful.

  I am me.

  We flop onto a clean spot of grass almost simultaneously, and it feels so natural to rest my head on his shoulder and breathe in peace.

  “If you could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?” I ask, blushing with my curiosity.

  He frowns as he thinks about it. “I’m not real sure. I want to see the world; I’m itching to travel, see everything and go everywhere. But I hope along the way I’ll find the place that makes me want to be still.”

  I smile: the honourable boy with the soul of pirate. My heart flutters deep in my chest like the desperate pelting of a caged lark, desperate to be freed.

  “What about you, mermaid?”

  “Miami, ideally, but anywhere coastal. I want to study marine biology and help protect sea creatures. I want to live as close to their life as possible, to swim in the sea and know how much life is right below me—to feel a part of this whole other world and make a home so close to it. Did you know that more than eighty percent of the ocean is still unexplored?” I blush again and drop my eyes, physically biting my tongue to stop myself from gushing further. It feels so alien to me, wanting to know so much about someone and wanting to share just as much.

  I glance up in time to see the wonder and magic in his eyes. He reaches out, oh so gently, and pushes a strand of hair behind my ear, his big hand cupping my cheek with the most feather-light touch. Teasing.

  I lean into it heavily, craving more—craving everything.

  “You’re an extraordinary person, Vera,” he murmurs, his lips curling beautifully as he admires. He closes the distance so agonisingly slowly that by the time his lips finally touch mine, I’m shaking with the anticipation. We kiss like this for a while. We kiss more delicately, and more passionately, and more romantically than I have ever been kissed. We kiss until my lips are swollen, and then a little more, stopping only when a wet puppy nose wiggles between us.

  I can’t help giggling at the affronted look on Tessa’s face as if it is a criminal offence for us to be kissing when we should be throwing that worn, old tennis ball for her. Brook playfully swipes it from her and tosses it so far and fast I can barely make it out as it whizzes through the air. Then he’s turning back to me, taking my hand in his much larger one and grinning at me.

  “Go out with me tonight?”

  I smile right back, trying to push down my crazy excitement at the thought of more time with him, and agree to be ready for seven.

  We lay back on the grass together, my head on his chest, his arms holding me close. I feel twin dimples indent my cheeks through my smile, and the butterflies turn to pterodactyls in my stomach. And I just know, in the way one instinctively does sometimes, that this strange feeling bubbling my insides is happiness.

  Chapter Three

  Nerves twist in my stomach as I try to decide what I want to wear tonight. I’ve never been on an actual ‘date’ before, and I feel unprepared, wishing I had a friend to call for advice.

  I eventually select a white, crochet crop-top with a tasselled fringe and an open back that I wore to a festival last year, pairing it with dark, blue denim shorts that show off my legs. After some consideration, I dig some knee-high, beige gladiators out of my suitcase and of course a varied collection of long necklaces and bracelets. Nodding in satisfaction, I head for the shower.

  I sing along to my nineties punk rock playlist whilst standing under the hot spray from the shower head, washing my hair with my lime and coconut hair care products and my body with the matching shower gel. The scent is so refreshing and transports me in the blink of an eye to all the coastal places I dream of visiting…

  Telling Brook my dream of becoming a marine biologist has solidified it for me. As I stand under the water, my imagination thousands of miles away, it feels so three-dimensional that I almost believe I can reach out, right this second, and grasp it with both hands. Maybe that’s not possible in a literal sense, but I feel so much overwhelming determination to achieve it. I feel hope for this future when I almost didn’t have a future at all.

  Taking three solidifying breaths, I shut off the water and wrap myself in a thick, cotton towel that I want to burrow all the way into.

  I’m fastening the last buckle on my sandals when I hear the knock at the door, followed by his cheerful greeting to Grandma Rosie as he lets himself in. One last look in the full length mirror and I stand tall. My hair falls in loose curls to my waist, the multi-coloured strands twisting together. My eyeliner, winged at the sides and combined with eye shadow, gives me a perfect smoky-eyed look. I add pale pink gloss to my lips, grab my bag, and nervously shuffle out of the room.

  Grandma Rosie is nursing a cup of tea in the kitchen, nattering away to a completely attentive Brook, giving me chance to sneakily check him out. And I do. He’s looking breathtaking and casual in a pair of distressed blue jeans and a white T-shirt with some nautical logo on, and those mutant butterflies are back, flapping frantically in my stomach.

  Grandma Rosie notices me standing in the doorway and breaks off, her eyes getting suddenly misty and a motherly smile brightening her weathered features. “You look beautiful, Vera. You two go have fun. Be back at midnight, and don’t go getting into trouble.” The last part was said teasingly with a mischievous glint in her eyes a
nd unconditional love in her heart.

  Overwhelming emotion twists my stomach, and I fling my arms around her. She squeezes back just as tightly, and I’m left with the startling realisation that I haven’t been hugged like this, as if by a mother, in a long time. Even when I was in hospital after the event, my own mother maintained an icy distance. “Bye, Grandma. Love you.”

  With hope making my heart leap and my hand laced with Brook’s, I head for the door, ready for the summer of my life: a summer of healing, a summer of love and, finally, a summer of truth.

  Want to read the rest of Vera and Brook’s story? The Symphony of the Sea duet is coming 2020.

  Prologue

  “Dylan, what on earth are you doing? Settle down!” Mum growled from the front seat of the Wrangler, which was hauling my life behind it at what felt like warp speed. I angrily gave the front seat one last kick with my high-tops before setting my foot back on the floor. I wasn’t happy about this move and I wasn’t going to just “get over it” as Mum had been telling me to do for the past 2 weeks since we found out we had to move.

  It was his fault: the D-bag up front driving. I absolutely refused to call him Dad, just because my mum had the idiotic idea to marry him. It didn’t automatically earn him that title. It was ridiculous he was even driving—he was a drunk for most of his time and even now, the stench of the lingering whiskey permeated the air so much that it made me feel sick. I just hope that we got stopped. To be honest, spending the night in jail would be good for him. Maybe it would teach him some respect. But I doubted it.

  I sighed heavily and resorted to looking out the window at the “beach resort” we were now passing. When I first heard we were moving, I was angry. How the hell could they do this to me? Just because the D-bag drank all the money that Mum made, we lost the house and had to start all over again. At least we were moving to the beach—that was one consolation at least I had thought at the time. Now, looking around me I couldn’t see how they could call it a beach. There was litter, rotting food and decay everywhere. Buildings were falling apart and it was practically empty. Not even the sun bothered coming out, making the place look like something out of a silent movie where everything was black and white.

  Great, just great! This whole thing was gonna blow. I picked up my phone for the hundredth time since we got here. No signal. That’s just fantastic.

  Mum’s voice shook me out of my thoughts.

  “How about we stop for breakfast somewhere. Can you even see anywhere, Dave?” Mum said quizzically at D-bag.

  Now you see why I call him D-bag: he’s a D-bag and his name’s Dave…fitting right? My stomach growled in response, and Mum’s features softened as she laid a delicate hand on my knee. Soft, gentle hands with perfectly manicured nails—just like her personality, I found myself thinking: soft and gentle, not like him. More than once, I had seen the bruises that she continually tried to hide. Despite my earlier feelings, I found myself calming down.

  “Stop placating him. He needs to get a grip for God’s sake,” the D-bag growled. I felt Mum instantly shrink back. I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind when all I could hear was the screech of tyres and the clash of metal on metal. This high-pitched shriek took over and I struggled to focus as I was catapulted forward and tossed around like just another piece of rubbish blowing around in the wind. My eyes fluttered open, and for a moment I could see Mum crushed by a pile of concrete and bricks. She had a thin crimson streak of blood running from her head down to her neck.

  No!!

  All I could think of at that moment was struggling to get to her. I reached out and tried to hold her hand. I felt my fingertips gently graze hers and then everything went black.

  Chapter One

  Two weeks later…

  “Dylan, get your lazy ass out of bed, now,” Dave bellows up the stairs. Yeah right, like I was asleep. In the last two weeks, sleep has eluded me. I wish I could do the simple things such as sleep like before, but the pit of darkness constantly pulls me in. These days, I struggle to do the simplest of things like eat or even breathe. I inwardly roll my eyes and slowly make my way out of bed. I thrust open the curtains and look out over to the seafront. The weather is grey, as it has been ever since we moved here—eternal darkness that covers the little seaside village as dark as my soul. I turn, unable to look at it anymore and as I do my gaze falls upon the worn-out picture of my mum. I pick it up, inspecting the grubby fingerprints that mar the edges. A sigh tries to escape my chest, but I push it down—deep, deep down, so I don’t have to deal with it. I can’t deal with it today. I have to be strong. For her. I lightly graze my finger, while pushing down the hurt and hatred that I feel for the D-bag. It was all his fault. Why the hell did he get to live when she couldn’t? I feel as though all the air has been sucked out of the room, and I find it difficult to steady myself. I feel disconnected to this world now she is no longer in it.

  I am immediately transported back to that night: the pain, the sound of crunching metal and somewhere in the distance, screams as people witnessed the accident happen. Accident. That’s what people were calling it. A tragic accident. It was no accident: it was my fault. If I hadn’t distracted Mum, then the D-Bag wouldn’t have been threatening her and wouldn’t have taken his eyes off the road. Deep down, there’s a part of me that knows it probably would have happened anyway. The way he was abusing my mum, she would have eventually died. Her life had been constantly in the balance. I’m angry at the world, angry at myself, for not being able to prevent it. Each time I tried getting in the middle of them, he would backhand me across the room until I hit the far wall, Mum screaming at him to leave me alone, always trying to protect me. Yet when it came down to it, I couldn’t protect her.

  A solitary but determined tear manages to squeeze itself out of my eye and starts the lonely descent down my cheek. Irritated by the treachery of my emotions, I sniff and wipe it away with the back of my hand. I set Mum’s picture back down on the bedside table and make my way into the bathroom.

  I know I silently promised my mum I’d stop, but I just can’t. She’s not here anymore to see the pain I’m in. I need to get the pain out, so I can see it and deal with it before pushing it back in until I’m ready to deal with the fact that she’s gone and never coming back. My life ended the night hers did. Rumour has it that someone else was injured that night, but I haven’t heard anything about that other person since. I have tried to find out but it is almost as if the person has disappeared. There have been many different rumours expanding from someone being young to someone being elderly. It’s weird: everyone knows that Mum has gone but no-one knows about the other one involved. I sigh heavily and cannot wait to get away from this dump. I turn the shower on and wait for it to heat up before undressing, letting my clothes fall to the tiled floor. I step in, hoping to wash the shame and sadness away. Time to go face the music.

  Chapter Two

  Raindrops splat against the window heavily outside, amplifying my foul mood as I sit on the small, cold bench in the local church, waiting for the ceremony to begin. My eyes scan the room and I snort at the pathetic turnout of people that have been bothered to show up. I know we are in a different area now, but it’s only a few miles from where we used to live. Why haven’t the family made it? Why don’t they give a toss about her? Most of the people here are only here to save face. Most of her family disowned her as soon as they found out she was starting a family with him. He was never any good for her. Now, the very family I need the most have shunned me as they did her. I need support, and I’m sure as hell not going to get it from him. I squeeze back a tear. If I start, I don’t think I’ll be able to stop. I crane my neck, looking around for the priest before my eyes fall on the hunched-up, old man in his robes slowly making his way towards the front of the room. It feels like he doesn’t want to be here either.

  My eyes strayed towards the casket in the middle of the room. On each side sit two large candles. Both are, of course, white in colour. Pure, li
ke her—until she was marred with bruises. She still acted like I didn’t know—still tried to hide them. On top of the casket are the pure white roses that I purchased for her. Nothing from the D-bag. To be honest, I’m surprised he’s even here and not delving into another bottle. I watch him as he pulls a hip flask out of his breast pocket and snort with derision at the fact he couldn’t even stay sober for today. Her day. As the priest started to speak, I try to zone out in order to deal. I close my eyes and try to let the memories wash over me, to envelop me. I try really hard to feel her presence here, to find some meaning, but all I feel is emptiness, loneliness. If there really is a god, why did he let her die?

  I watch helplessly as they start to lower her casket into the ground. I have to try to be strong. My eyes follow the D-bag out of the cemetery grounds. I cannot believe that the world is still turning—that life still goes on. I still find it unbelievable that there isn’t going to be a wake. All he cares about is hitting the bottle until he passes out. I stare into the hole in the ground, my mother’s new home, for what feels like only minutes but could have been hours, who knows? When I come to and look around, everyone has gone home. I am the only one left. I pick up my skateboard and head towards the beachfront. I want to be alone and can’t stand the sight of him. If I look at him again, I don’t trust myself to not end his miserable existence.

  I grab my earbuds to the mp3 player I always carry and blast some heavy metal music into my ears as I step on the board. The music always eases whatever tension I am feeling. I push off with my foot and start heading towards the front. I hope there that I will find some peace. I have to make sense of this. I just have to, otherwise, my sanity will be completely at risk—bare for all to see—and I don’t like it.