Descendant

by LJ Amodeo

  “Look at me!” he insisted.

  I looked blankly at his face. “Have you ever felt threatened by me? You! Not Sam. Have I ever given you reason not to trust me or to be afraid of me?” I could not find the reasons to disagree with him, yet the pain in my heart teetered.Who sent him? Who is he?Those very thoughts raced through my mind with several possibilities. An angel, demon, a dream. My mind remained blank, lacking words to argue my feelings about Sam.. “I don’t get why you don’t like her. I know she’s complicated, but so am I and you’ve given me a chance. Why not her, too?” Something in my head compelled me to interrogate him.

  “I don’t like her. I’m telling you to stay away from her. What don’t you get?” He barked. “You’re telling me? Is this an ego-trip for you, Michael? Are you proving how much control you have over me?” I yelled.

  “No, Elizabeth. I’m not trying to prove anything!” He argued back.

  “She’s right! I know nothing about you or why you’re really here. . .and with me out of all people!”

  “Elizabeth, why are we even discussing this again. Can’t you see how beautiful you are. Inside and out. Stop believing their lies and stop rejecting compliments when you’re given them.” Michael urged me. I wanted to believe him, I honestly did. But all those years of being called a loser hardened my core, forcing me to put up blinders and making it impossible for me to see what Michael had seen in me. Or Freddie and Mr. Harley, who continued to press the idea that I was a descendant of the old-time Hollywood beauty. “I wish I could believe you,” I muttered. I needed to get air before things got ugly between us. I pushed Michael out of my way, grabbed my coat and walked out the door.

  “Elizabeth, please don’t leave! Stay and talk to me. Let’s figure this out!” he shouted as the door slammed behind me.

  Walking along the village streets, the air in Tremblant felt crisp. I hurried along the medieval streets and ducked into a quaint bakery. Lavender draped tablecloths covered the small tables along the back wall of the pastry shop. I sat down at the farthest end of the Shoppe. I felt nauseous. Our weekend was not supposed to be like this.Did I overreact? Should I have gone back? Several people hovered around the glass enclosures picking out biscuits, muffins or freshly baked crescent rolls from the display. A bell tinkered above the door, as a stunning male, several years older than me entered the Sucre Millette Shoppe. His chiseled jaw and perfect nose matched his sculpted frame. I was taken by his striking looks. Impeccably dressed in expensive attire, he held a cellphone to his ear as his full lips moved gracefully to words that were inaudible to my ears. I couldn’t take my eyes off him or his supple lips.

  He casually moved about the store glancing at the shoppers and the baked good while speaking on his cell. As his eyes peered toward the rear of the room, he locked his eyes on me— his familiar, beautiful, and deep green eyes.Hel a voice hissed crudely in my head, sending cold chills running up my spine. I gasped. He snapped his phone shut and grinned walking in my direction. He was a different sort of beautiful—not quite like Michael, but definitely remarkable in his own way. He was intriguing.

  “Elizabeth?” I heard a voice call me, but did not see the mystifying gentleman’s lips move. I stiffened on the seat as his deep eyes watched me.

  “Elizabeth Morgan?” Again, a voice called out my name. This time the stranger stood staring at me from across the table. “Hello? Are you Elizabeth?” he asked again.

  “Yes,” I answered astounded that in a strange town, far from home, someone would know who I was. Especially someone as gripping as the guy who towered over me.

  “Ah! Finally, my sister told me you’d be here this weekend and insisted I find you. She’s been blowing up my phone all day.” He beamed a wide and confident smile.

  I rose up from my seat. “Oh! Sorry, I should’ve realized, you must be Luca. Sam has told me so much about you.” I shook his glove-covered hand.

  “Everything good, I hope?” He smiled in a most charming way. “My sister has a way of twisting words. She’s a tough cookie to please.”

  “I know,” I replied in awe of his radiant features.

  “May I?” he gestured to the empty seat next to mine.

  “Yes, please. Sam didn’t mention you’d be here. I mean . . . she said you’re studying and working in Quebec, but I didn’t think you’d come looking for me.” I rambled, as he stared at me in the most peculiar way. A dying to know you, way.

  “Well, if you know Sam, she is quite the persistent type. She absolutely demanded I find you, to look into the beautiful eyes of her new best friend. She’s worried about you.” He scoured a quick glance over at the bakery counter. Then his eyes narrowed and his voice lowered a decibel, as he cocked his head and studied my face as if he were looking for something. His intense gaping made me squirm uncomfortably in my seat, remembering Sam’s similar eerie glower at the lake.

  “You certainly are as lovely as my baby sister described you. Sam tells me you have some questions about your headaches? I can answer any concerns you have about migraines.”

  His eyes looked away again, suspicious of the crowd around us. He leaned in closer this time, closing the space between us a little too much. “How about this—” he whispered, his full lips only inches from mine. “Come with me—to the hospital. I am doing my residency there and I can run some tests, take a closer look, if you are okay with it, of course. Your call.” He said looking into my eyes while he stroked my knee. His inappropriate touch fiercely sputtered in my belly understanding now why his nickname around the hospital was “Dr. Sizzle.” Luca kept his gloved hand on my knee, every so often giving it a light squeeze or gentle stroke. “So, what do you say? You’ll come with me? I’d love to get to know you better,” he whispered.

  “Now?” I asked, slowly moving my knee away from his hand.

  “Sure! Why not? It’ll be quick, I promise you won’t feel a thing.” He said, straight-faced.

  “Umm, I can’t today, my bo . . . f . . . f . . .friend is waiting for me. We are heading back to Caneadea. Maybe another time.” I twisted my lip nervously.

  “By the way, is your mom in town? I’d love to meet her if she is.” I paused for a moment, waiting for Luca’s reply and diverting his attention from me. He bent his head and squinted at me, puzzled by my question.

  “My mother?” Luca appeared slightly confused at my query.

  “Sam told me she was visiting you to get away from all the holiday commotion. I thought she might be here with you. It would be great to finally meet her.” I stated.

  “Oh! My mom. Lillian? No, no she . . . umm . . . returned home, yesterday evening.” He cleared his throat.

  Luca was about six foot two. His sleek, black hair was neatly combed to one side. The caramel merino-wool coat and expensive-looking brown loafers were immaculately pressed and polished. He extended his hand. If I weren’t mistaken, Luca bore a strong resemblance to the skier on the slopes the day I passed out. Tall, slender, and a killer smile.

  “I must return to the hospital. It was my pleasure, finally meeting you, Elizabeth. I hope to see you again soon.” Before turning to leave the bakery, he paused, placing his chiseled chin between his fingers with a proposal for me.

  “I will be teaching at Webber Memorial next month in February for several days. Perhaps, we can meet and review your records then. I’ll have Sammie come for you.” His curious emerald eyes glared over the full length of my body. He tipped his head and hastily exited the door as my eyes followed him out. At the same moment, Michael entered the bakery. The two nearly brushed passed each other. Michael halted. His face irate as he watched Luca scurry down the street. I gulped hard, knowing that I’d have to face Michael’s wrath at any minute. He strode over and sat in the very seat occupied by Luca prior to his arrival. Slouched in my chair, I had hoped to avoid his evident fury. Clearly, Michael was upset with me. But I was just as heated with him. The desire to defend Samantha dawdled in my head, but I refrained from a public quarrel. I peered up at Mich
ael’s angered face; his eyes stared blankly at the table between us. I knew he wouldn’t make a scene in public so I stood up instead, “I’d like to go home.”

  He rose without confrontation and waited for me to walk out of the bakery. I walked ahead of him, pushing the glass door open, hearing the tinkle of the small bell above my head. We walked several paces apart from each other, my hands tucked into the pockets of my coat. We never exchanged a single word. He trailed silently behind me. I mulled over confronting him about Sam, but feeling vexed, I decided it would be best to cool my anger first. The silence between us stabbed at my stomach. We reached the door to his apartment. Michael pulled out the key to unlock the door but I blocked the keyhole with my hand.

  “I need to know what is going on between you and the Gavens, Michael. I want the truth.” I urged him. He responded only with a blank stare and a nod of his head.

  “Fine! I’ll go get my things!” I removed my hand from the doorknob. Once he unlocked it, I pushed passed him, racing up the stairs directly to the master bedroom. I shoved Sam’s clothes into the leather sack and carried it down to the front door, where Michael waited quietly.

  “Tell me––you recognized Luca, didn’t you? What is it that happened between the two of you? What are you hiding from me?” I muttered almost begging. His lip remained tight and steely.

  “You know what? Whatever, Michael! It doesn’t even matter. I don’t owe you anything.” I paused just inches from his rigid body. A riot brewed within me.

  “Let’s get one thing straight, I will not let you choose my friends for me! My mother already does a great job at that!” I proceeded out the front door. He continued to strain in silence as he followed me out to the car. Once, seated in his car, I mumbled, “I wanna go home. Get me out of here.” My chest felt heavy, and my mind was in a stupor. All I wished was to stop fighting with him. To have a normal relationship. But the entity inside me unwillingly controlled me. Pushed me to defend a girl that came between me and Michael. A power that pushed to eliminate all that was good in my life. All I wanted was to hold on to the good, to keep the evil away. But the darkness that swallowed my soul crushed what little happiness I shared with Michael this weekend. I’d broken the promise to myself.

  My flogged head rested against the window as Michael pressed on the accelerator with guarded eyes staring at the road ahead. I watched him now, wanting desperately to see his smile, the smile that captivated me whenever we were together. He seemed consumed in his own thoughts. His sad eyes concentrated on the road ahead. I upset him.

  For several hours we drove in silence. Only the sultry voice of a female singer streaming from his iPod, blanketed the tension between us. When he finally spoke, I released a long sigh of relief, “I wish I could explain, Elizabeth. But I can’t. It’s not time. It is too soon. I need you to understand.” His voice echoed like breaking ice falling from its cavern.

  “Time? When is it a good time, Michael?” I strained my voice.

  “Just know that while I am here with you. Nothing or no one will ever hurt you.”

  “While you’re here?” I faced him. “Are you planning to leave? Am I only a dare––a team initiation? Are you thinking about leaving me like myfather?” I gasped, choking back tears, hurting miserably inside.

  “No, never! I’m not going anywhere,” he pleaded but silenced again by my words.

  “Is there someone who’s trying to hurt me? Is that what happened to my dog? Was it a message for me?” I shuddered at the thought.

  “Give me a chance to explain.” He tried to calm me down.

  “What’s there to explain, Michael?” His hand touched my cheeks, but I pushed it away.

  “Elizabeth, I will never hurt you, but. . .” his voice cracked. His eyes were afflicted with worry, yet his face stayed as serene as the comforting sun. I was frustrated with all the word play.

  “Stop it, Michael! Don’t say anymore if you can’t be honest with me. I’m sick of everyone fighting for my trust.” I paused, not able to continue the fight to rebut him.

  “Without trust, Elizabeth, there is nothing left. So I ask you one final time, do you trust me?” he whispered as he looked into my eyes. Feeling defeated and mentally exhausted, I shrugged my shoulders and surrendered.

  “Yes.” I whispered, looking down at my fingers and blinking away tears. He reached over raising my hand to his lips and gently kissed it. I did not stir for the rest of the long drive home.

  It was nearly 10:00 PM when we arrived at my doorstep. Mom peeked out of the window when she heard Michael’s engine dawdling in the driveway. He walked around the car and opened the passenger-side door. An overwhelming sadness brushed over me, knowing Prince would no longer be waiting for me inside. This and our first serious fight, tore my heart apart. I choked back the pools of water in my eyes. Michael waited passively, quietly.

  “Elizabeth, in time, it will all make sense to you and you will understand why I feel so protective of you.” He pecked my cheek. “Thank you for a wonderful weekend.”

  I did not want to spoil the moment, I was grateful that he felt protective of me. It made my heart soar, but I remained upset.

  “Thank you. I enjoyed myself.” I replied distantly. I did not kiss him back. The lacy curtain moved again. He glanced at the window, “I think your mom is eager to see you.” I nodded, exited his car and disappeared inside my home with a heavy heart and many unanswered questions.

  Chapter 13: Reluctant Warrior

  Don’t be afraid. Those who are with us are more than those who are with them.

  Elisha, v.16

  Red hearts, pink roses, and various shades of crimson candles decorated the common area of Bowen Hall. Students wearing red hearts printed on white sweaters bustled around school. Some boys on campus were holding bouquets of red and pink roses, while others jiggled around heart-shaped boxes of chocolate. Sophie was reminding her friends about her Valentine’s Day party. I could see she was making her way over to me with her evident,I don’t like you, smirk on her face.

  “You haven’t forgotten, I hope? What’s more important is that Sam comes with you. She is coming, right?”

  “Yes, Sophie, she’ll be there! Hey Soph?” I took a deep breath, “Would you mind if I bring my . . . friend, Michael?” I wasn’t accustomed to calling him my boyfriend. And besides, it felt awkward calling him my boyfriend since we never openly discussed it.

  “Whatever!” She dismissed me with a wave of her hand, walking away in her tight pencil skirt and expensive leopard print Jimmy Choo bag, hanging off her arm.

  That evening Sam called to share her excitement about the party. “Finally! Somethingfun to do in Caneadea! I am going out of my mind in this shit hole!

  “Would you be upset if I decided not to go? Besides, it’s you Sophie wants there, not me,” I said.

  “What? You’ve to go! I wouldn’t want you to miss all the drama!” She shrieked.

  “It’s a Valentine’s Day party, what drama could there possibly be—besides guys and girls swapping spit?”

  “Better than that! You’ll see,” she giggled.

  “I guess, but I know how much that girl hates me and—”

  “And. . .I will take care of that flippant maggot! Forget Sophie! More importantly, what are you wearing?” Sam screeched excitedly.

  “Not sure yet. I’ll just wear whatever I have in my closet.” I answered.

  “Nope! Wrong! I have the perfect top. I’ll drop it off tonight before I go to Freddie’s.” Her voice shrilled with excitement.

  “Freddie, huh? You guys have been hanging out a lot lately. That’s good, right?”

  “Beth, are you serious? Freddie is like my pet ferret, under my feet whenever I feel the need to kick something.” She laughed wickedly.

  “Sam! That’s mean! Have a heart, he is my best friend!”

  “What? I thought I was your BFF? Just kidding . . . he is fun, at times.” She hummed the last word. “Oh, it almost slipped my mind. Luca is coming t
o town on Sunday. He’s teaching a course at Webber. He told me he wants to see you. . . you know, about your condition. Maybe he can put an end to it.”

  “Um, yeah, sure . . . that would be great, I guess,” I stuttered, reflecting upon her choice of words, contemplating Michael’s reaction when I tell him that I’d be seeing Sam’s brother at the hospital.

  “I’ll be by later to drop off the top.

  “Sam, you don’t have to. I’ll find something to wear. I’ve already asked for too much from you and your closet.”

  “Nonsense! See you later darling. Kiss-kiss.” She crooned over the phone.

  That evening, Sam handed me the most delicate red laced georgette top I had ever seen, with a black velvet sash that added definition to my thin waist. Its feminine design made me feel alluring as I sashayed into the living room to show Mom my outfit. Her eyes brightened when she looked at me.

  “Look at you, all grown up. You’ve become such a beautiful young woman, just starting your life. Let me look at you, Bethy.” She held me at arm’s length. “I will surely miss you when you go off to college.” She caressed my face.

  “Mom, stop it! I’m not going anywhere now. I’m just going to a Valentine’s Day party at Sophie’s,” I chuckled.

  “Sophie? That unpleasant student president girl? Are you sure you want to go to her home, Beth? I know how tough she’s been on you all these years. Do you think going to her party is a good idea?”

  “Yes, Mom. Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.” I assured her.

  “Is Michael going with you?” She sighed heavily. “I know you two have been on the outs, lately,” she said pouting her small lips.

  “Yes, I asked him to come. Besides, I’ll have my guard dogs with me too—Freddie and Sam! Gotta get ready. Michael should be here soon.” I muttered looking down at my watch.

  “Good, I feel better whenever he’s around you.”

  I smiled at my mom concealing the pain in my heart. Since my return from Quebec, my relationship with Michael took a slight turn adding some distance between us. To fill my emptiness, I increased my hours at work and spent more time running or writing, either in my journal or my music. Glancing at my watch, I hurried off to the bathroom to make some final adjustments to my hair and make-up.