William jumped in front of me, blocking the path. "Ruth, don't lie to me. Your wrist is messed up and no one could sleep through something tearing into them like that." I winced at the memory of how painful it had been two weeks before.
His eyes were pleading and demanding all at once. I wanted to laugh. Something told me if I did I would wake a rage in him I wasn't prepared to see. "I need you to drop this. I was on a collection of medication for my flu. There's no telling what I did or did not sleep through."
A low growl started in his chest. "You didn't mention it the other night when you stayed up to talk with me. Elizabeth saw you every day and she never said anything about it, either. Why the hell didn’t she take you to the doctor?” His narrowed eyes deepened as he pushed. I realized the words spewing from his mouth were all of the pent-up worries and realizations he hadn’t been able to speak during the weeks. “Unless she had a reason for not wanting to take you. She didn’t want your wrist seen. Is she responsible?”
He stared down at me, finally silent. I wanted to lie. I wanted to protect Mother. But, he knew her well. He must know the darkness inside her and what she was capable of.
I nodded, knowing I couldn't find any more excuses. "It was an accident, William. We can discuss it later. Right now I want to enjoy the sunshine, fresh air, and you."
He wanted to argue. He wanted to rage and make me tell him. Indecision tightened his jaw. I knew if I explained there was no way I could hold him away from Mother.
"Why can't you tell me now?" he knew it. He wanted me to say it.
My own rage began to climb. "I'm already ruining your relationship with my mother by dragging you into a messed up one with me," I yelled the words to him and was amazed when he didn't pull back.
He grabbed my arms and pulled me to him again. "Dragging me into a relationship? Do you think you're forcing me to do this?"
His full lips took hold of mine, but with anger and need in his touch, as he lifted me to him again. His hands climbed under my dress and up my back. I gasped as his teeth came down on my lip.
Suddenly I was out of his arms. I opened my eyes to see him pacing in rage. "If you do anything it will make everything worse." He refused to acknowledge me. "It's the first time anything has happened in weeks and she already apologized."
"What did she do? Tie you to the bed so you couldn't get up when you were already so sick?" I heard the sarcasm in his words. He knew the truth about that, too. There was no reason to deny it.
"William, please." He continued to pace, his fury building with each step. I didn't know what to do to calm him. .
He stopped, finally hearing me. I turned away, unable to control the hot tears spilling over. "I'm sorry. I'm torn. She's my sister but she has no right to hurt you. She knows what it's like. She went through it herself." His arms wrapped around my shoulders as his lips pressed to my neck. "I'm sorry. I won't say anything. This time."
I turned to him, worried about what might happen next time.
I allowed him to lead me to the bench where we sat holding each other through the day, talking about everything and nothing. He would do little things that reminded me of his anger- the way he would move my hair from my face, rub my back, even kiss my wrists, all with a tight jaw and black eyes.
When it was time for us to pull ourselves away for dinner I feared seeing him in the same room as Mother,
We sat silently through our meal, barely speaking. Mother asked William if he was ok while giving me a quick warning glance.
"I'm fine," he answered, his eyes still ebony when he looked at her. "I think I must have caught Ruth's flu. Nothing a little fresh air won't fix."
I was shocked at his gall and without a hint of sarcasm. If it weren't for the fury in his eyes, I would have thought him genuine. Mother obviously did.
Chapter 12- Lily
We still passed sweet letters under doors, but not solely at night.
One day he presented me with the white rose he had pulled for me on his first night. It was pressed and tied with a thin black ribbon around the stem, securing a glinting ruby shaped in a heart.
I was beginning to feel weak. Our kisses grew deeper, desperate, and the moans in the dark panged.
There was always too much agony when we were forced to separate. When we were together in our private havens we both felt at peace.
Yet, in the presence of our family venom consumed. Reality became crueler by the day. Neither of us wanted to damn the other.
The few pieces of comfort I had in those moments of aching solitude were the letters and the rose, all hidden in a small cigar box on the shelf of my closet.
We waited until Mother had gone to bed one evening to lay side by side under the protection of the willow tree. The darkened house loomed against the low, rumbling sky.
Electricity snapped in the air, warning of a storm about to wreak its havoc, but neither of us wanted to move. The strong, warm wind rolling off the pond swirled our hair around and whipped at our clothes. I ran my fingers over his and lifted onto my elbow to peer down into his face.
With every passing day his expressions had become increasingly desperate, his quiet groans in the dark deeper, and his kisses more needing. I recognized my own torture wound into his body
The way I touched him, my fingertips barely grazing his skin as they played softly across his chest, made him turn to me with his seemingly always black eyes.
His breath drew in deep under my hand. His lips parted as he stared at mine, too afraid to kiss or touch me.
“Do you think-” I hesitated. What if his opinion of me tarnished for saying it?
He cupped my face in his hands, strengthening my resolve.
“I think we're doing this wrong,” the words tumbled out of my mouth so fast I was worried he wouldn’t have been able to understand them.
“What do you mean?”
“We keep trying to toe the line, but I've never heard of a love being wrong.” His thumb grazed across my lip, making my heart tremble.
William sat up on his elbows, his expression wary yet amazed. “We can't let social standards or even the opinions of the people we love dictate how we live or who we love?”
The way he spouted the statement made it sound memorized in arguments against himself. It was full of suffering. He seemed to have pushed a huge weight from himself by saying the words aloud.
His whisper was tinged in fear, "I don’t want you to regret it. I don’t want you to hate me or feel like I pushed you.”
My throat burned as I fought to stay calm against the swelling hope. “Neither of us could ever hate the other. I could never regret anything I do with you."
I kissed him softly, pulling away to look into his face, unsure of his response.
The passion in his expression made me brace for a rough kiss but he was gentle, almost as if he were anticipating me changing my mind.
He pressed me back against the soft grass. We seemed frozen in the tantalizing taste of each other, both wanting more but worried about each other's morals. Once we raced down the path there was no return.
I could finally see how willing he had become. He needed it as much as I did. I reached first.
I was wearing the same silk yellow dress as the day of his arrival. The thunder started in a low growl as I pushed him away gently.
His gaze softened and fell as though he knew he had been right, as if I were saying no.
I sat up and pulled the dress over my head before laying back down and watching his eyes change.
They drank in my body as his palm grazed over my leg. My hips arched a degree at the sensual feel of his hands on my skin.
He yanked his shirt up and tossed it onto my dress. I pulled him to me, his hard chest pressing against mine as his hair covered his eyes.
His lips brushed mine, painfully soft. As his body shifted, my thighs opened, pulling him in between. The rough fabric of his jeans against my soft panties had me at war with myself. It took everything I had not to lose c
ontrol and grind against him.
He pulled his face from mine and watched my expression as I pulled his jeans open. I quieted the worry in his mind, dipping my fingers into the crevices of his back to draw him closer.
Lightning flashed behind him, making him look like a god- powerful even as his eyes proved him vulnerable. The feel of his mouth on my stomach, inching up until his teeth nipped at my throat, forced a moan to roll through my being.
His need caught flame, matching my own. His hands skimmed over my body as though desperate to know every inch. He pressed himself to me and I bucked slightly.
The smell of impending rain and the roar of torrents in the distance peeked our excitement. His fingers slid beneath my panties, teasing and torturous, before tearing the fragile fabric from me, leaving me naked beneath him. I wanted to beg for him, but he didn’t make me.
“Ruth,” was all he whispered as he pushed into me. He wrapped his fingers in my hair, the other hand clenched on mine as it dug into the dirt. He pressed his mouth to mine to stifle my cry. His own moan of pleasure reverberated through my body.
We stilled for a moment, relishing in the feel of our bodies together. My body quivered around his.
One hand held us to the earth as the nails of the other bit into his back. A piece of me wanted to protect my last bit of self, for him to not see how deeply I loved him, but I never tore my eyes from his.
We rocked with the storm as its thunder covered my screams. My name poured from his lips as though I was his goddess and it was his divine prayer. We came together as lightning struck somewhere near our tree.
I was still rolling with exhilaration and pleasure when he dropped his head to mine. We clung to each other as fat, warm drops of rain came to wash away the sweat and sin that drenched our skin so sweetly.
Chapter 13- Chrysanthemum
Anxieties filled my head and heart the next day. My body felt fluid, so relaxed and peaceful. The night before had been so perfect. The one potential stain to mar it was the worry of how William might feel.
Did he regret it? Did he feel like I made him give in? What if I had made him sacrifice his new life, his constant feeling of acceptance and love from being surrounded by close family?
My eyes snapped open when I heard someone stepping lightly in my room. I rolled and saw Mother putting something in my closet.
I sat up quickly, trying not to look at the box above her head and give it away. She turned and noticed me staring at her as I tried to push the fear down.
“What are doing?” I tried not to sound accusatory.
“We have a guest coming. He's going to paint a portrait of the family for your birthday,” she chirped.
She held up the dress she had been trying to put away for me. It was pink, knee-length with white lace across the square neck and hem. She turned it for me to see the back, a low v-line lined in the same lace ending with large pearl buttons down to the hips.
She smiled as she left, laying the dress across the foot of my bed. “Pin your half back again, it looks pretty falling over your shoulders.”
I stared at her as stepped toward me, running her hands over the loose curls at the ends of my hair. Her soft smile and sparkling eyes made me swallow acidic bile with my guilt. I hadn’t simply risked William’s soul and family life, but my own mother’s happiness for my needs.
I thought I heard her hum as she left the room. I tried to focus on readying, pinning my hair as she requested. The dress showed my figure without being provocative. I looked innocent, sweet, but thoroughly sixteen. I stared at my reflection as my mind lashed. If my face matched my soul I would be a disgusting creature.
I turned and tried to silence myself. I couldn’t be puffy for the picture. Mother loved hand-painted portraits. I took deep steadying breaths as I made my way to the entryway to wait with Father. I couldn’t concentrate on the words tumbling from his lips in a happy tune.
When Mother came down the stairs with William in his suit my mind blanked. It wasn’t long before when he wore it to the party, yet it felt like a lifetime ago. If only I had realized that night how well I would soon know him and could have trusted him.
He threw me his grin and I looked away quickly before Mother could see me blush.
The artist arrived soon and positioned us in the ballroom. William seemed to think himself out of place, wondering if he truly belonged to our picture-perfect family. I was made to sit in the front with Mother standing behind me and Father on her side. William was dragged to stand on the other side of Mother and his hand automatically rested on my shoulder.
My heart galloped. I prayed the small gesture wouldn’t be seen as intimate as it felt.
We sat for almost two hours. I let my mind drift. I could think of nothing but the night before. My immediate surroundings melted away as his hand touched me.
When the artist was finished he turned the huge canvas. I stared in awe. We were all captured in perfection. Father looked so joyful, Mother almost uncomfortable but pleased, and William-
His expression could have been a mirror of my own.
I knew without doubt as my eyes met his, that he didn't regret one second.
✷✴✷
Father mocked Mother’s stern expression in the portrait as the artist was shown out. We all turned as Hannah lead Mother’s lawyer into the ballroom.
He complimented the portrait hurriedly and asked Mother to speak in private. She and Father showed him up to her office as Hannah began tidying the room.
Her hair looked heavy and greasy, as though she had tried to weigh down the frizz with too much product, and she wore clumpy mascara. I watched her work and hid my grimace of disdain with every glance that she threw towards William.
I bit my tongue to not say anything to her but tasted blood the moment I realized her wedding band was gone.
She stood as tall as she could and gave William a ridiculous, false giggle. “This chair is so heavy,” she feigned. I retreated slowly watching her with mild amusement.
His brow twitched as he looked down at her. Confusion flitted across his expression before he took one large step backward, away from her.
He rolled his eyes as he turned away. Hannah’s face crumpled. I watched the emotions from the edge of the room, knowing William would never have intentionally hurt her. I assumed he was as used to flirtation as I was. I gave him a smirk as he picked up the chair and carried it from the room.
Hannah stood in the middle of the room. She looked at me and her eyes welled with tears. I stepped toward her in guilt.
“Chez asked for a divorce,” she whispered, referring to our head chef and the main reason Hannah had gotten a job at our house. I didn't know how to comfort her but knew she was too young to be married to a man as old as Chez anyway.
Trying to find some way to comfort her, I shot out my hand and awkwardly patted her on the top of the head. I never was much good with people crying, especially people I didn’t particularly like.
She had never done anything to merit my distaste. I had tried to befriend her on a small level when she had first come to our home. However, she always remained cold and detached. We had never held a proper conversation regardless of my attempts.
She jerked away from me. “I'm not a dog,” she barked.
I stepped away from her in irritation. “Then don’t come to me with your tail tucked between your legs.”
She stumbled as if I had hit her. I spun and stormed from the room. Last time I try to comfort someone.
“Ruth,” my mother called as she and Father descended the stairs. William was at the bottom and looking as though he were stuck in an unwelcome conversation with the lawyer, Mr. Taylor. I met Mother and she grasped my hands. Father came around and put his arm around my shoulder.
I wondered who died.
“Darling, I'm so sorry,” Mother started. “One of our stores up north burnt down and we have to fly up there to take care of insurance and inspections.”
“Oh.” Why was she actin
g like it was the worst possible news?
“We should be back tomorrow night, but we'll have to postpone the party. I’m so
sorry. You could come with us if you'd like but I don’t think you’d enjoy your birthday much if you did.”
A wave of relief washed over me. I tried not to look at William but the excitement was already beginning to bubble in my stomach.
“It's ok,” I tried to sound disappointed.
“Thank you for understanding.” Father squeezed me.
Mother wanted me to sit with her as she packed. She kept apologizing and telling me how proud she was of me and how beautiful I looked in my new dress. I swallowed the lump of guilt that grew with every kind word.
✷✴✷
The sun was falling when we waved goodbye from the porch. Mr. Taylor waved vigorously from the from his own car to William.
“Somebody has a pet.”
William glared at me from the corner of his eye.
The servants standing behind us all turned and walked inside. Hannah gave me what I imagined to be her meanest possible sneer, but her red rimmed-eyes and smeared mascara weighed into me.
“Hannah, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have been so cruel.” Her eyes narrowed as her tiny body began to shake.
“It’s fine,” she hissed as she tried to mask her blatant, growing rage. My brows lifted as I watched, wondering if she would combust. I wondered if it was appropriate to tell her how much I respected her attempt of salvaged dignity.
Before I could say the words she brushed past me into the house. “What did you do?” William asked, amused.
I shook my head and wandered in behind her. I wasn’t even really sure of what I had done wrong. I made the attempt to comfort her. I simply wasn’t good at it.
I tried to keep my pace calm and hide my sprouting giddiness as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom.
William seemed to wait forever before finally creeping into my room. He closed the door softly. “We still have to be discreet,” he whispered.
Truth Page 8
