Breathless

by Heather C. Hudak

  “Come on, Lia. Haven’t we waited on you enough tonight,” Addie said laughing.

  There was no point playing against my grandma. She annihilated us every game. After several cups of cocoa, one too many cupcakes, and three rounds of crib, I said farewell to Addie, kissed my mom and grandma goodnight, and called it an evening. When I reached my room, I noticed a small white envelope in the center of my pillow. Carefully, I tore through the top with the edge of my index finger and pulled out an embossed note card.

  One night without you is one night too many.

  All my love,

  C.

  He must have sneaked back into the house while we were whooping it up in the kitchen. Somehow, our crib games always got out of control. Between my grandma’s gregarious outbursts and Addie’s squealing laughter, it was hard to hear your own thoughts, let alone someone tiptoeing up the stairs—especially if that someone knew exactly which creaking floorboards to avoid. He paid such close attention to detail and was so thoughtful, it filled my heart just to think about it.

  The holidays came and went in a blur. It was the same story each year. On Christmas Eve, we went for a potluck dinner at the community center, which was followed by ice skating to live caroling. A large bonfire blazed in the center of the rink, where dozens of families spent the evening congregating to enjoy the company of close friends. This year, the weather cooperated. Though there was a mild breeze that turned to a cold chill as I circled the rink cautiously on my archaic figure skates, the temperature was warm, and I was cozy in my heavy parka and thick mittens. Chaseyn held my hand as I pushed my feet forward, struggling to keep my ankles from burning the ice. My mom and Kevin glided effortlessly around the rink, while grandma watched from a bench positioned within reach of the warmth of the fire. Later, we attended midnight mass. It was the only day of the year that we stepped foot inside a church. Chaseyn was edgy about joining us—panicked at the thought, in fact. He went home to be with his mother for their own midnight tradition—what it was, he wouldn’t say.

  The next day, I woke early and ran into my mom’s room like a six-year-old kid. Some things you could never grow out of. This was mine. She got up, grabbed her robe, and headed downstairs to call Kevin. We promised to call the minute we got up so that he could join us around the tree to open gifts. Once mom knew he was en route, she began frying bacon and scrambling eggs. Next, I pounced on my grandma, who was lying awake in bed, waiting for my arrival. She knew I would come. I always did. We walked downstairs together, my mom waiting at the bottom of the steps to take our picture as we came in sight of the tree. She wanted to capture the look on my face when I saw my gifts. It was a lifelong tradition, but it had lost its effect when I reached my teens, and the ridiculously lavish gifts that would be piled high beneath the tree when I was a child were replaced by small, gift-card-sized boxes. Still, I put on a fake face and gave her my best pose. It made her happy; I could go along with it for one day. Only, I had a feeling this wasn’t going to be the best part of her day.

  Kevin arrived just as my mom started doling out the gifts. As a child, I had heaping mounds of gifts; now, I had a handful, but I was happy no less.

  We took turns opening our gifts, working our way around our quartet one package at a time. A sweater, pajamas, Blu-rays, books…I walked away with the usual fare. My mom looked moderately disappointed when she opened Kevin’s gift—a luxurious, but less-than-romantic, spa certificate. They had been together several months now—though I had only known about their pairing for a few weeks—and, she was expecting something more. She would never say it, and she feigned happiness, but I could see it in her eyes. I knew my grandma could, too.

  Chaseyn and I had promised not to get each other anything, but he couldn’t resist sneaking a small package under the tree. I left it for last. When everyone had collected their loot and moved into the other room to partake of the delicacies my mom had painstakingly prepared, including her traditional puffed, cinnamon French toast and champagne and orange juice, I stayed back, cradling the tiny package from Chaseyn between my hands.

  The package was simple; small, flat, with plain brown paper covering the outside. A long, red ribbon wrapped around the edges, forming an enormous bow on top. It was easy to tell the type of object that would be inside, but I didn’t know the specifics.

  Carefully, I tore away the wrapping to find a plain black journal—a red satin ribbon lay between two pages, which I immediately turned to. Inside, the pages were thick with Chaseyn’s heavy script. As I leafed through I could see page after page of hand-scrawled poetry. Some were original, but most were carefully selected from other works to express a particular emotion. On the page marked by the red ribbon, he had written out the words to Love Letter by Sylvia Plath. And, as I read, my heart filled with the emotions he had intended to evoke. So perfectly had she expressed her transformation from a dull, unhappy soul to one of meaning and depth that I was sure she was talking about my own inner thoughts. I fought back the tears, as I now knew that Chaseyn understood me better than I even understood myself. He had found just the words to express my feelings.

  “Lia, it’s getting cold. Are you coming,” my mom shouted.

  “I’m right behind you,” I called back. I just wanted to throw my new sweater on to see how it fit. It’s great.”

  I tucked the little book under the cushion of the recliner. This was between Chaseyn and I. It was not meant for prying eyes.

  Breakfast was delicious, as it was every year, and when we were done, my mom and I sent our guests to the living room to rest while we cleaned up. Knowing what was to come next, I wanted to give Kevin a moment alone with my grandma.

  Once the kitchen had returned to its normal state—that being only slightly untidy—we retired to the living room.

  “Vivvie,” Kevin said. “Did we miss a gift? I think I see another at the back of the tree. Would you mind?”

  My mom looked slightly puzzled, but she knelt down anyway and crawled behind the tree. My grandma’s face was all smiles, and I feared she was going to give away the ending before the story could even begin. Before my mom could turn around to face us, Kevin was on bended knee. When she finally faced forward with the small velvet case in her hand, tears were gushing from her eyes.

  “Vivienne Elaine Jameson, I love you, and I would be the happiest man on Earth if you would agree to spend forever with me.”

  Despite her emotional state, my mom glanced up at me quickly before responding. I knew she was looking for my blessing, so I flashed her a huge grin and nodded my head vigorously, prodding her with flapping arms to give the man what he was waiting for. Finally, she threw her arms around him and shouted out a resounding, “Yes.”

  I wrapped my arms around the two of them as they knelt together on the floor hugging and crying. After my father’s death, I thought it would be impossible for my mom to find happiness again, but I knew that Kevin could give her everything she ever wanted. Love filled my heart, and tears streamed down my face. Pure joy.

  The rest of the day was spent preparing for dinner and calling friends and family to spread season’s greetings and share the good news about my mom and Kevin. She was already considering dates for the big day—likely, soon after my graduation next May.

  Graduation seemed so far off now, but I knew the time would pass quickly. I thought about my own future. In just a five short months, I would be saying goodbye to my youth and welcoming a whole new world. A world that I hoped would include Chaseyn in a big way. The thought had barely crossed my mind when there was a light rap on the door. We were expecting several people for dinner, but I had asked Chaseyn to come over early. The Lears had only made a few friends in town during their short time here, and all of their family was still overseas, I presumed, since they rarely mentioned any kin. I had invited his mother to join us, but she was uneasy about the holidays. After his father’s death, she had lost some of her enthusiasm. Chaseyn insisted she would prefer to be alone.

  I ran to
the door, and when I saw his smiling face on the other side, I had trouble containing my enthusiasm. I threw my arms around his neck and planted a big kiss on his lips, lingering a little longer than I should given that my grandma was within relative view. Still, the air of young love was strong in our house today, and I couldn’t help myself. Wide-eyed with surprise, Chaseyn eagerly entered the house.

  “Wow,” he said, the word sounding supremely adorable with his British inflection. “Hello to you, too. Hi, Mrs. Vanderwold.”

  He tipped his head in my grandma’s direction as he greeted her. A slight blush rose in my face when I realized just how much of my little show she must have seen.

  “Thank you for the lovely gift,” I said beaming. “But, I thought we said no gifts.”

  “You’re welcome, but you can’t get mad,” he said, pointing to the leather cuff he had strapped around his left wrist—the same wrist that I adorned with the silver cuff he gave me the first time he came to our house. “It’s great, but you didn’t have to.”

  Chaseyn didn’t come empty handed. He had brought two festive bouquets—one for each my mom and another for my grandma. He was always so appropriate. Just then, the others started to arrive. Kevin’s sister, her husband, and their three kids were first to arrive. Next, Amber, one of the nurses at the clinic came with her boyfriend, and finally, one of my grandma’s old friends arrived. We all crowded into the living room for appetizers and friendly conversation. Chaseyn and I were both only children, so the whole scene seemed out of sorts to us. It was loud but cozy. Before, the holidays had always been quiet—just my mom, grandma, and me. I had longed for a special family tradition, and this year, I got my wish.

  The night rolled on and on. We stuffed ourselves beyond the point of full with my mom’s delicious spread. We played board games and listened to music. Chaseyn never left my side, and I hoped he never would. In the dim light of the fire, he watched me with softened eyes, never once taking his gaze from me. All night, regardless of my place in the room, he watched me earnestly, like I was the only one in the room. He was the only one that mattered to me. Every now and then, I would catch his gaze, and a small chuckle would escape his lips. His perfect, soft lips. In the dark glow of the candles, his hair, dark as midnight save the silvery birthmark he shared with his mother, shone bright and his emerald eyes shimmered brilliantly. I couldn’t imagine being any more in love than I was at that moment. No sooner than I was able to complete the thought, I felt his hand twist with mine. He was there beside me, whispering soothingly in my ear, his breath warm on my neck.

  “Forever, Cordelia. That’s how long I will love you.”

  My heart melted, and my knees gave out. A warm flush crept over my entire body, rising from my tips of my toes to the top of my head in a tingling sensation. Those words…his voice, like butter…I hoped no one had noticed how he had to steady me—his hands firmly on my hips as I leaned slightly back against his chiseled chest.

  “Forever,” I whispered so low I could barely hear. I knew he heard because he kissed the top of my head sweetly. After that, he never left my side again that night. It was late when the others finally left—well past 1 a.m. Chaseyn lingered behind. It had been a long day, and I couldn’t keep from yawning repetitively, but I wasn’t ready for him to leave. My mom was so preoccupied with Kevin that she didn’t seem to mind, and my grandma had gone to bed hours earlier. I took advantage of the rare opportunity.

  I was cross-legged on the couch. Chaseyn was to my right, one leg tucked beneath his body, which was angled to face me. We sat in silence staring at each other. Minutes ticked by, but we didn’t say a word. Neither one of us had to say what was on our minds. I knew what he was thinking. I was thinking it, too. We were meant to find each other. To be together.

  “Sweetheart, Chaseyn should probably get going,” my mom called from the kitchen. “I’m sure his mom will be getting worried.”

  “You’re beautiful,” he finally said, breaking the silence, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Heat rose in my cheeks, and I pressed my face into his hand. He stood slowly, and I followed him to the door.

  “Tomorrow,” he said.

  I nodded.

  Kevin had never stayed so late, and I suddenly had the feeling he wouldn’t be leaving at all tonight. Sooner or later, he would start staying the night, and though it was strange to think another man would be sharing my mother’s bed, I was oddly comforted by it.

  Chapter 18 - History Lessons

  The Olsen’s had family in from overseas for the holidays, so I had picked up a few extra shifts at the bakery. Time was running out for me to set aside extra funds for school, and as much as I wanted to spend the holiday break hanging out with Addie or Chaseyn, I knew I had to think about the future. The last thing I wanted was for them to move off to college and leave me behind in this dead-end town.

  At Chaseyn’s insistence, Addie and I had spent some quality time together this week. Shopping, a spa day, and lunch with the girls were all part of the agenda. We convinced Chaseyn and Rob to join us for a chick flick on the big screen, and the four of us went ice skating on the lake. Time was breezing by at lightning speed.

  On New Year’s Eve, Addie and I had spent the day listening to music in her bedroom, painting our nails and talking about our dreams for the future. After, she dropped me off at home to prepare for what the boys had promised would be a night to remember. My grandma was peering through the window, awaiting my return. When I walked through the door, she was pacing nervously.

  “Is everything alright, grandma?”

  “Sit down, Lia. We need to talk,” she said with a serious look on her face. “You’re not going to like what I have to say, but you have to promise me that you will listen to every word before you get upset, okay?”

  “Sure. I guess,” I said, taking a seat next to her on the overstuffed couch.

  “I like Chaseyn. You know that, right?”

  I nodded, not sure where this was going. Truthfully, she had always seemed a little standoffish around Chaseyn, but overall, I figured she liked him well enough.

  “But, there’s something you need to know. Before I start, I want to remind you that you promised you would listen,” she began.

  I sat statue still, eyes wide with fear. What could she possibly have to tell me about Chaseyn that could be so bad? Images ran through my head of him with another girl. She took my hands in her own and started talking.

  “Your great great great grandmother, Lorelei Eloise Dryden, was born in London at the beginning of the Victorian Era. Her father was an officer of the royal court. He was well respected throughout the ranks of the upper class, and many sought to emulate his life,” my grandma started.

  She stood up slowly and grabbed a pop from the kitchen before returning, not to sit next to me, but to rest on the arm of a nearby chair instead. She seemed nervous, but she pressed on.

  “Lorelei enjoyed a life of privilege—attending the best schools, receiving the care from the nation’s most outstanding nannies, and traveling to luxurious resorts around the world for extended vacations. Lorelei grew into one of the most beautiful women London had ever known. Women longed to look like her, and men fought for a chance to be in her company.”

  “How come you haven’t told me about her before,” I asked, realizing how I got my middle name. “She sounds amazing.”

  “Well, there’s more. I’m not sure you’re going to find the rest of the story so amazing. I’ve never even told your mother this before, and I would appreciate it if you kept this between the two of us.”

  She sat down on the recliner before continuing her story. She began by describing Lorelei’s physical beauty. Long crimson ringlets flowed to her waist. Ivory-colored skin glowed warmly accenting her chestnut eyes and peach-toned cheeks.

  “From what I have heard, she looked a lot like you,” my grandma added unexpectedly. I had never thought of myself as beautiful. Tanned skin, straight blond hair with blue eyes were the epitome
of beauty in today’s world, but maybe by the standards of another time and place, someone like me could be considered above average.

  From there, my grandma explained how Lorelei’s hand had been promised to the son of an elite attorney. The young man, Louis, was studying to follow in his father’s footsteps. He was handsome, intelligent, wealthy, athletic, and chivalrous. Despite the fact that Louis was the perfect gentleman, Lorelei had a strong head on her shoulders and was morally opposed to having an arranged marriage. She was in love with an artisan from Romania named Alexei. Alexei had little to offer someone of Lorelei’s caliber other than his whole heart. With him at her side, she felt safe, happy, and complete. They would have little in the way of money and security, but they would have happiness.

  Lorelei’s lot in life was set. Her family forged ahead with wedding plans for her and Louis. All the while, she and Alexei prepared to escape on the eve of her wedding. They would take off under cover of darkness, leaving no trace of their route. Lorelei’s father was a powerful man with many connections in the royal guard, so they would have to move quickly or risk being caught. Alexei would be arrested, and Lorelei would be doomed to a loveless marriage.