by ML Gardner
Something forced its way to the front of her mind and refused to be ignored any longer. She’d suspected, but now she knew.
“She liked it rough.” Claire’s statement shocked them both and demanded an answer. He didn’t flinch or drop his eyes from hers.
“She made me earn it.”
Her breath caught and she held it tight. Of everything he had ever said, hearing him utter the word She was enough to light her blood on fire. Furious tears stung her eyes as she took a few steps toward him, lips and hands trembling.
“Did you like it, too?” she asked.
His eyes remained cold and distant. “Yes.”
Without warning she brought her knee up sharply, crushing his groin. He collapsed in a grimacing, grunting heap.
“Did you like that, Aryl?” she asked, standing over him. “Because if you did, I’ll be happy to do it again!”
He ignored her for the moment, writhing on the floor holding himself, cursing loudly.
Suddenly his arm shot out and grabbed her ankle, fingers digging into the bone. She yelped, yanked herself free and jumped over his body before running to her room and slamming the door.
He crawled to standing and when he rose, he met the hard glare of Maura.
“Sit yer arse back down.”
He did, out of obedience or excruciating pain, Maura didn’t know.
“Explain yourself.”
“I don’t have to explain anything to you.” He held himself with both hands, staring at the floor.
“You will.”
He raised his head and glared.
“Go to hell.”
Her hand met his cheek with a loud pop and after he righted his head, he stared at her, dumbfounded.
Maura held herself up stoutly, brow knitted and lips set; only her eyes hinted at her true heartache over the situation.
“It’s the medicine,” she said. “I’ve been watching you and whenever you’re late for yer medicine ye turn into the most awful bastard.”
He scoffed and sat further back on the couch to afford a little space between them. “It helps me. My lungs were damaged when I almost drowned.”
“My arse. Yer mind was damaged by that bottle, and ye know it.”
He looked away.
“Do ye have any idea how Miss Claire suffered when we thought you’d died?”
“Well, based on what I saw when I came back, she got over me easy enough.”
His head flew to the side with a sharp jerk from Maura’s stinging hand.
“Ye have no idea what yer talking about ye stupid bastard,” she seethed. “But yer in no mind to hear me right now, are ye? Not when ye want the medicine so badly ye forget yourself and those that love ye.”
She pulled a small bottle from her dress pocket and tossed it into his lap. He swept it up in his hand and looked up at her. “You had it?”
“I found yer stash under the sink. I wanted to see how bad this craving was, and it’s worse than I thought.” She paused looking him over as if he were a repulsive insect. “Go ahead. Take it. Then maybe you’ll be of mind to hear what I have to say.”
He took a long drink and Maura waited, sitting on the other end of the sofa, fists balled up on her knees.
After a few moments, his posture relaxed and his breathing eased. He leaned forward, reveling in relief and leaned his elbows on his knees, hanging his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered moments later.
“I don’t want yer damn apology. Ye should be apologizing to that woman in there that nearly died of grief over ye. But you’ve apologized a dozen times over, haven’t ye. Did ye know she didn’t eat or talk for days and it took months for her to return to a decent state of living.”
His head stayed low in shame. “I know it must have been hard for her. I didn’t mean it when I said she’d gotten over me easily,” he said quietly.
“No, ye didn’t, ye feckin idiot. How could ye even think such a thing? I’ve a good mind to slap ye a third time for good measure!” Maura’s anger bubbled fiercely. Aryl scooted over closer to the arm of the sofa.
“No one’s really told ye, have they. What it was like for her.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I want to know.”
“Well, isn’t that grand. Miss Claire can know of yer vicious romps with some nameless woman, but ye want to spare yourself the details of her misery? Well I won’t let ye. I’ve stood by long enough and been silent. Let me fill ye in, Mr. Aryl, on exactly what yer wife suffered while you were gone.”
He shook his head and started to stand.
“Sit!” Maura bellowed. He obeyed.
“When I got word you’d died I was on the next train out. I walked in to Miss Claire starin’ in shock. The others told me of the night they found out. Did ye know they had to wait fer several hours to find out which one of ye lived?”
Aryl shook his head silently.
“When Caleb got out of the deputy’s car, Miss Claire fell to her knees screaming in grief. Mr. Jonathan was there and held her while she cried. She turned on him, beatin’ him on the chest, orderin’ him to go find ye. She didn’t stop screaming for someone to go after ye until the doctor sedated her. When I got to her, it was all I could do to get her to eat a bite, and we could only pray she wouldn’t lose the baby.”
Maura watched him take a ragged breath as a tear fell on his knee.
“Did ye know that she went to yer lighthouse near everyday to talk to ye for six months? That she would walk the beach and stare out over the open ocean, rock herself, and just cry. There was the time she went missing and we found her, sleepin’ in the berth of yer boat. I do believe had she not been carryin’ yer child she’d have thrown herself in the ocean just to be closer to ye.”
Aryl swallowed hard and held his head.
“When Gordon started courtin’ her is when she started to show a little life in her. You’ll never know the guilt she felt over havin’ feelings fer someone else. She asked me a hundred times did I think you’d approve of him. Him being a widower, he understood her sadness and let her have it. They couldn’t bear to celebrate holidays for the hard memories, so they set their own. He was good for her, Aryl. Ye need to know that.”
He visibly tensed.
“You need to make a decision, and soon. I can see where this road is leading and it’s leading your Claire right back into Gordon’s arms. If ye choose the medicine over her, she’ll choose him over you. I promise ye that.”
He sat for several moments quiet, deep in thought. Finally, he spoke. “I’ve tried to stop,” he said. “A few times. I can’t.”
“Yes, ye can. It’s going to be harder than hell, harder than anything you’ve ever done. But ye can.”
“You don’t understand. I feel like I’m going to die. My whole body hurts, my head feels like it’s going to explode. I hate myself and everyone around me and I feel so violent it scares me.” He looked at her pitifully. “I don’t know how to stop.”
Her posture softened, though her face still held a determined hardness.
“We’ll help ye. Yer friends and yer family…love of God, I don’t know how.” She sighed. “But we will.” She took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Ye have to let us, Aryl. Will ye do that?”
He sniffled, giving a quick nod without look up at her.
May 26th 1931
Claire found herself on Gordon’s doorstep not entirely remembering how she’d gotten there. She shifted Jac to her hip as he made small noises, curiously surveying his surroundings.
She knocked and a ripple of emotion tore across her face. She hoisted the baby closer and waited. There was a shuffling inside, and the door opened a crack.
“Claire.” Gordon’s eyes softened as they landed on Jac.
“I’m sorry to show up like this. I needed to talk to you.”
He looked uncomfortable, deliberating what to say for a moment.
“Can I come in?”
He moved aside after a quick glance over his shoulder, and held the do
or.
She sat down, arranging Jac on her lap and taking a deep breath.
“I don’t know what to do, Gordon,” she said and began to cry. “It’s horrible. He’s not the same person.”
When he sat down he made sure to keep a good distance between them. But he couldn’t help reaching out to touch Jac, who smiled at him.
“He has a temper now and I never know when it’s going to flare up. The least little thing sets him off.”
“Has he hurt you?” Gordon asked.
She shook her head as he handed her a handkerchief. “But it’s getting bad. Maura had to step in yesterday.”
“Well, if Maura’s involved it’ll get straightened out soon enough.”
“No. She talked to me after.” She threw her hands up. “She doesn’t know how to help him. Caleb talked to me about it last week but I didn’t want to believe him. But he’s hooked on…something. Caleb says opiates. Might be morphine. Whatever they gave him after the accident.” She held her head in her hand. “I didn’t believe any of them, completely, until last night.”
“What happened last night?” he asked, not sure he wanted to know.
“He wasn’t alone while he was gone. I don’t know the extent of the relationship but I got a pretty good idea about the nature of it.”
“To be fair, you weren’t either, Claire.”
“This was different. There’s something sick and wrong about this…woman.”
She felt violently nauseous as she said the word.
“He won’t talk about it. And I don’t even know if I want to know. And yet, I have to know.”
She broke down and sobbed, “I don’t even know if I’m glad he’s back. Lately, I feel like it would have been better if he had just stayed gone instead of returning angry and broken. Do you have any idea how guilty that makes me feel?” Her tear stained face, wrought with emotion begged him to say something.
Gordon took his time with a response. He focused on the baby; he missed the little guy.
“Have you talked to Jon? All your other friends?”
She felt him placing a gentle wedge between them. This—more specifically, she—wasn’t his problem anymore. Wasn’t his to care for and look after anymore. That ended the moment Aryl stepped out of the car. Even if he wanted to help, it would be awkward and out of line. Feeling a sudden wave of regret for ever having come, she nodded and began drying her eyes. “I have. They are trying to think of something. No one knows what to do.”
She began to gather herself and the baby, signaling the visit was over.
“Claire, I have to be honest with you. It isn’t that I don’t care. I wish there was something I could do.”
“But you can’t.”
“No, I can’t. I don’t know how to help either. Even if I did, it wouldn’t be proper…it’s not proper for you to be here right now—”
From the direction of the kitchen they heard something fall and hit the ground, followed by a distinctly feminine, “Oh!”
“You have company. I wish you would have said something.”
“You looked so sad. I didn’t want to turn you away.”
“Well, I wish you would have told me, regardless. Who is it that heard our conversation?”
She stood ready to leave, but waiting for an answer.
“T’was just me, Claire.” Tarin stepped into the living room.
“What are you doing here?” Claire asked, shocked.
“I was just visiting is all,” she said softly.
The way he refused to look at her, the way Tarin appeared apologetic, she put the pieces together fast enough. Having no right to be angry, she felt it anyway.
“You realize she’s only seventeen?”
He nodded.
“Does Maura know you’re here? Because when she finds out!”
“She knows, Claire. And she approves. We didn’t want to say anything to ye for fear of hurtin’ yer feelings, tender as they are right now. We didn’t keep it from ye for meanness. And we didn’t mean it to happen, Gordon and I. Not so soon, anyway.”
Claire closed her eyes hoping the room would stop spinning and something would make sense.
“We were going to be married not even a month ago,” she said.
Gordon nodded. “Maybe you should sit down and I can explain.”
“Am I that easy to get over?” She looked up at the ceiling, batting her eyes and mouthed the word, Wow, in disbelief.
“Please let us explain,” Tarin begged.
“Why don’t you give me the quick version? I need to get home.” Her tone was suddenly hard and short.
“I’ve loved him since the minute I saw him, Claire. When Jonathan dragged him in the house that first time. He noticed me, too, and thought Auntie was trying to make a match with us. Then he found out it was you she wanted to match him with and dismissed his feelings, thinking me too young. When he showed an interest in ye, I backed off. I tried to do the decent thing by ye, seeing how ye needed him more. But then Aryl came back. Auntie and I came over to console him and I kept coming back after that. Auntie loves Gordon and knows how decent he is. That’s why she trusts me here.”
“I guess I should be happy for the two of you.” She looked them each in the eyes before continuing. “I got my husband back and you two found true love. Hoorah for happily ever after’s,” she said, her face rippling again as she turned to the door and left.
Aryl wasn’t home when she arrived. While Jac slept on their bed upstairs, she paced the living room floor, desperate for him to walk through the door. When he did, she planned on throwing her arms around him, kissing him, and demanding he tell her everything.
Confront him on his addiction and tell him it wouldn’t change anything. She knew and she still loved him and they would find a way to help him and one day everything would be just how it was before.
She wanted to know everything about the yet undefined, She. Claire had to know everything. What this woman smelled like, tasted like, what was her favorite food—everything down to the pitch of her voice. Every detail of her that was like and unlike Claire’s own personality. She felt sick at the thought but it had to be done. Until she knew, she would always wonder and where there was wonder, there was insecurity. She couldn’t handle another shred of insecurity or she might break in two. She had to know everything, it was better to know everything and she had to know it all, right here, right now. As soon as he got home.
Aryl exploded through the front door.
“Where’ve you been?” he demanded. Before she could answer he began searching the house.
She panicked; worried he knew exactly where she’d been. He looked furious enough. And if he didn’t know, it wasn’t exactly the right moment to tell him. Instead she asked, “What are you looking for?”
He didn’t answer but grumbled as he pulled a few boxes from the bottom of the coat closet, finding them empty he tossed them over his shoulder.
“Aryl?”
“What?!” he yelled, whirling around, glaring at her. He ran his hand through his hair and slapped it on his thigh. “What, Claire?”
“I—I was going to offer to help you look for whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“I don’t need your help.” He dropped another empty box and threw the door open.
“Where are you going?”
“Out.”
She couldn’t let him leave. If he did, she wouldn’t find the courage later to ask the questions she needed to ask.
“I was at Gordon’s earlier,” she blurted out.
He stopped and looked at her. “What?”
“You asked where I was. I was at Gordon’s.” She didn’t care if it angered him. She had to get him talking. “Where were you?”
“I was trying to work.” He didn’t seem concerned with where she’d been, but overly preoccupied with other worries. Jittery and unfocused.
“Where do you go all day and half the night? Where is work, Aryl?”
“I don’t know now,
thanks to Caleb,” he grumbled as he walked out.
May 30th 1931
Patrick walked around the charred remains of the cabin with an aching heart. Seemed like every time he got close to achieving something, it was torn from him, forcing him to start over. He bent down and pulled some blackened spoons out of the ash. A pot here, a half burned shoe there. Not enough salvageable to matter. And the real kicker was that since Aryl had come back, that’s about all the whole lot of them cared about. It’s certainly all everyone talked about. Not much fuss had been made about the loss of his home. Arianna and Caleb opened their home to him and his family again. But it wouldn’t do in the long run. The spoon landed back in the middle of the blackened pit. Not worth saving. He was determined to start over; he didn’t know how to quit. But not here. There were things going on here that no one would admit to or acknowledge. Bad things that he didn’t want to be anywhere near when it all reared its ugly head. He watched Marvin get out of his car and walk towards the barn.
Speak of the devil…
Earlier in the day, he’s asked Caleb for a refund of the money he’d paid him towards the land. He didn’t expect him to give it, but Caleb did and Patrick tore up the contract. When Caleb asked where he was going, he wouldn’t say. When would he leave? He wasn’t sure. His plans were secret, even to Shannon. After all, she’d tell Arianna, who would of course talk to Caleb. And with Marvin being a regular in Caleb’s barn…well, it all necessarily had to remain a secret. He’d miss this place a little, he thought. It was the closest he’d ever gotten to having land. And the friends that had grown to be like family? He’d miss them, he admitted. Stubborn and blind as they were being right now. Standing up and looking over the farm and its peaceful pasture and large garden, it seemed as if it had been almost untouched by the financial blight that had scarred the rest of the country. Regardless, he would pray for them. He watched Marvin carry a box into Caleb’s barn. They were all going to need it. Of this, he was sure.
∞∞∞
“Patrick, will you tell me now?”
