Enigma

by Taylor Brent

  “Do not disrespect her like that,” Niyol growled, his voice taking on a dangerous tone that Margery had never heard from him. “She is not your wife anymore, and you have no right to speak to her that way. In fact, even when she was your wife, you had no right to speak to her that way. You will not continue to humiliate her because it makes you feel like more of a man.”

  Mitchell spluttered angrily.

  “And for the record,” Niyol added, his voice deadly calm. “No one in this town thinks badly of Margery. They all think badly of you. You make a total ass of yourself every time you start this shit in public. If you can’t be civil, then don’t bother talking.”

  Mitchell finally found his voice again. “Or what?”

  “Or you’ll answer to me,” Niyol stated with a shrug, glaring down at Mitchell.

  Before Mitchell could retort and escalate the situation, Danny walked up and tapped him on the shoulder. “Your cab is here, Mitchell.”

  “I didn’t call a cab.”

  “And yet,” Danny said, “there’s one here for you. I suggest you take it and go home to sleep it off.”

  Mitchell looked from Danny to Niyol. Cursing, he stomped off to get Cathy before leaving the bar.

  “Thank you, Danny,” Margery murmured. She turned to Niyol and clutched his arm. “And thank you.”

  He reached down and brushed her hair back from her face. “Any time.”

  Margery sucked in a breath. “Can we go upstairs? It’s really hot down here.”

  Nodding, Niyol took her by the arm and led her upstairs. There were guests in the sitting room, so he took her up to his room, maneuvering her into an armchair next to the small fireplace. He knelt down next to her and rubbed his hands over her legs while she caught her breath. He knew from his own bitter experience that she was having a small anxiety attack and just needed time to calm down. After a few minutes, Margery grabbed his hands and squeezed them gently.

  “Thank you,” she whispered again.

  Niyol looked up at her and stroked her cheek with his thumb, wiping her tears away.

  “I mean it,” Margery continued. “No one has ever taken up for me like that except for Rose. It means the world that you did that, Niyol.”

  “I would do it again.”

  She smiled. “I’m sorry I lost it a little bit there. He makes me so angry, and I can’t help but feel like it’s my fault still.”

  “It isn’t, but I understand. Do you need a few moments alone?” He didn’t want to leave her, but he also didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” Margery admitted.

  She took his hand and stood up, pulling him with her, and walked backward toward the bed, a question in her eyes. He answered her by drawing her to him, pressing her body against his own, and kissing her deeply.

  Margery melted into him, her hands fisting in his shirt. She gripped the hem of his shirt and tugged it over his head, breaking their kiss for a beat before reclaiming his mouth with hers. She explored the planes of his chest with her hands, drawing patterns on his skin with her fingers while her tongue explored his mouth. Niyol gave a soft grunt of pleasure at her exploration and let her do as she pleased until her hands trailed down toward his jeans.

  Breaking their kiss once more and smirking at the small whine she let out when he did, he mimicked her earlier movements, grabbing the hem of her shirt and lifting it over her head. As he reached around to unhook her bra, she unbuttoned and unzipped her jeans before shoving them and her underwear down her hips, impatient to feel his bare skin against hers. He steadied her as she stepped out of them and kicked them away, and only then, when his mouth was on her nipple, did she notice her bra had disappeared.

  Margery gasped as his teeth grazed her sensitive flesh and she grasped his head, twining his fingers in her hair and holding him in place. She let him move to the other nipple, her head falling back when he sucked particularly hard. Tugging on his hair, she pulled him up for another kiss.

  To Niyol’s surprise, she pushed him back onto the bed. He gazed up at her, admiring her soft curves as she hungrily studied his naked chest. Before he could blink, she had climbed onto the bed and straddled him, burying her face in his neck to press kisses to the sensitive skin there. She inhaled the intoxicating scent of him she had become so addicted to in the last few days.

  She trailed her mouth and tongue down his neck to his chest, pausing to nip at his collarbone and suck one of his nipples into her mouth, and then lower to his sculpted abdomen. Niyol watched as she fiddled with his belt buckle and yanked his pants off of him, letting them clatter to the floor.

  With a coy smile on her lips, Margery met his gaze before letting her eyes drop to take in his manhood. He let out a groan when she licked her lips, the groan turning into a hiss as she dipped her head and flicked her tongue over the tip of his erection. Smirking, Margery slid her fingers over the length of his shaft. Niyol groaned again as she took him fully in her mouth, sucking a little as she did. She slowly bobbed her head up and down a few times, swirling her tongue over the tip of his cock, making it twitch and throb with need.

  Only a few minutes later, he pulled her off him with a gasp, unable to stand it any longer. In one fluid motion, he stood up and pushed her in front of him onto the bed. He scrambled up behind her, raising her hips into the air and pushing her shoulders toward the mattress. Reaching around her, he swirled his finger over her clitoris in a slow spiral. She cried out at his touch, pushing her hips back against him. He continued his ministrations, and when Margery was slick and writhing against him, he lined himself up and plunged into her.

  Niyol set a demanding pace, thrusting into her from behind, his attentions on her pleasure bud never wavering. She met his thrusts with her hips, moaning his name. When he felt her muscles begin to clench around him, he pulled out of her and flipped her around, wanting to see her face when she climaxed. Lust clouded her eyes, and they rolled back as Niyol thrust into her again, impaling her over and over. Her muscles squeezed him, milking his cock as his vision blurred and waves of pleasure washed over him.

  As the pleasure ebbed away, he collapsed next to Margery, breathing hard and shaking. Niyol pulled Margery close, and she laid her head on his heaving chest, listening to his heart beat as it slowed. He cupped her face in his hands and pulled her lips to his in a tender kiss.

  Gazing into her eyes, Niyol realized, as much as he’d denied it, he was hers, and he had been from the moment he’d met her. He would leave his guilt for tomorrow. Tonight, he wanted nothing more than to hold Margery in his arms. His Margery. For some reason, that thought didn’t feel so scary anymore.

  Chapter Eleven: Ghosts of the Past

  Niyol woke the next morning feeling happier than he had in a long while. He ate a quick breakfast with Margery before she had to leave for the diner, smiling the whole time. As Margery waved to him from the passenger seat of Rose’s pickup, Niyol thought to himself that maybe it was time to let go of the pain and guilt he’d held in his heart for so long.

  He turned back to the house and plopped down at the kitchen table across from Jill and Luke. Jill stared down at her breakfast, moving the food around the plate with her fork.

  “You still want to go today?” she asked.

  Niyol looked at her, frowning in confusion. It was a few seconds before he remembered they had planned to visit her mother’s grave today. It was a long drive, but he had jumped at the opportunity to spend so much uninterrupted time with Jill.

  “Of course,” he said, giving her a small smile. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Jill nodded. “Rose left us a cooler full of food for the trip,” she replied, gesturing over his shoulder toward the cooler and two large thermoses on the counter.

  Niyol stood to gather the supplies and grab his keys from a nearby hook. “I’ll go warm up the car while you finish your breakfast,” he told Jill.

  “I’m done,” Jill said, scooting her chair back.

&nbs
p; Luke placed a firm hand on her shoulder, keeping her in her seat. “No, you aren’t. If you don’t want eggs, I’ll fix you whatever you want, but you will eat something before you leave.”

  Jill rolled her eyes but scooted back toward the table.

  Niyol exchanged looks with Luke, a silent promise to keep an eye on Jill and ensure she was taking care of herself, and then rushed to warm up the car for her. He was excited to spend the time with Jill, but he didn’t know what to expect when they got to the gravesite. It had been a while since he had visited Haseya’s final resting place, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to face the guilt it would bring, but he would do it if it meant spending time with his daughter.

  A half hour later, Niyol and a well-fed Jill pulled out of the parking lot in his cozy, warm car. On the drive, they shared stories of their childhoods, their hopes and fears and dreams. Niyol’s already jubilant mood soared at finally getting to know his own daughter. He wished with all his heart he had gotten to watch her grow up, but he knew he couldn’t change the past. More than anything, he just wanted to be a part of her life now, and it filled him with joy to think Jill wanted the same thing.

  They stopped for gas around lunch time. Jill pulled out the cooler of food while Niyol pumped the gas. Niyol—to his immense relief—did not have to force Jill to eat her lunch, and they ate in companionable silence. It seemed her nausea was worse in the morning, but lunch and dinner were easier to choke down—perhaps because she already had something in her stomach. He made a mental note of that for future reference, and so he could tell Luke what he thought. Maybe, between them, they could keep Jill a little more comfortable and healthy.

  The last half of their journey was a little quieter. Jill fell asleep not long after lunch, and Niyol watched as the scenery flew by, his thoughts on Haseya and all they had lost. His mood had turned melancholy by the time he pulled up to the cemetery.

  “We’re here,” he whispered, shaking Jill gently awake.

  Jill blinked awake and looked around, grimacing. Niyol jumped out of the car and rushed to help Jill out. Tucking her arm into his, he led her past hundreds of tombstones, up a hill, and down a narrow path. Her mother’s grave rested under an aspen tree surrounded by a half-dozen other tombstones.

  “How did she get such a beautiful gravesite?” Jill whispered.

  “When I finally tracked your mother down, they had already cremated her. It’s what the government does when no one claims a person’s remains within a certain number of days. They released her remains to me, and I buried her here under her favorite type of tree.”

  “Oh,” Jill said. “I like aspens, too.”

  Niyol wracked his brain for something to say, but he didn’t know how to handle this type of situation. He didn’t know how Jill felt, and he would hate to say the wrong thing to her. Silence enveloped them as they stared down at the gray tombstone.

  “I don’t know what I was looking for,” Jill said after a few minutes. “I hate cemeteries. They’ve always given me a weird feeling. I guess I was hoping to feel some connection to her, but I can’t.”

  Niyol squeezed her hand, at a loss for words of comfort.

  “Do you mind if I wait in the car for you?” Jill asked, rubbing her arms with her hands. “This cemetery is freaking me out, and I’m a little tired.”

  “I can walk you back,” Niyol offered.

  “No,” Jill said, handing him the flowers she had cut from Rose’s garden and brought with them. “Take your time. I’ll be fine.”

  Niyol nodded and watched her disappear down the path. He looked back at Haseya’s tombstone. “You would be proud of her,” he murmured. “Jill, I mean. She’s stronger than I could have hoped. And funny. And very kind. She’s a wilderness expert, and she works for our long-lost relative, Rose.

  “Rose is Kate Callahan’s many-great-granddaughter. Remember her from the story about Niyol and Haseya? How Haseya stayed with Kate for a time before going back to her own family? That’s Rose’s ancestor. I think you would like Rose. She likes to be a little mysterious, and she has a meddling streak, but she means well.”

  Niyol laid the flowers across the grave, kneeling down in the grass to arrange them and to brush dirt off the bottom of the tombstone. “But I guess you know that. Do you? Are you looking down on us?” He leaned back from the stone and gazed at it. “Why did you do it, Haseya? Why did you leave?”

  Only the wind answered him. He hadn’t really expected an answer from her, but the silence was definitely getting to him.

  “I met someone,” he whispered. “Her name is Margery, and she makes me happier than I’ve felt in a long time. Happier than I’ve been since I came home to find you gone.”

  He sighed. “But I don’t deserve happiness, do I? How could I when I never made you happy enough? I should have been there for you. I should have helped you more. And I know it’s been so long since then, but how can I move on with my life when you don’t even get to live yours. You’ve missed so much, and it’s all my fault.”

  His voice broke as tears trickled down his face, blurring his vision, and his shoulders shook as his grief and guilt tore out of him in horrible wracking sobs.

  Jill had followed the path, but she must have made a wrong turn because she had no idea where she was, and she couldn’t see the parking lot at all. It was an impossibly big cemetery, so she turned back the way she had come, deciding to wait with her father and let him lead her back to the car.

  Grumbling, she picked her way back along the path, doing her best to ignore the shivery feeling the cemetery gave her. She hated graveyards. Niyol’s voice carried a little on the winds, so she followed it back up the path, stopping several yards away. Before, she hadn’t been able to make out his words, but now she could.

  Her heart broke as she listened to his quiet pleadings with her long-dead mother. Jill knew her father had harbored guilt over Haseya’s death, but she hadn’t realized it had run so deeply until now.

  Without thinking, she strode forward and rested her hand on his shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. Niyol jumped at her touch before turning his tear-streaked face toward her. Jill knelt down next to him and brushed his tears away with cool fingers.

  “Dad,” she murmured. It was the first time she had used the title with him, and the shock of hearing it for the first time stopped his tears.

  “Dad,” she continued. “I never knew my mother, but you have told me at least a hundred times how much I remind you of her. If that’s true, then I don’t think for a second she blames you for what happened. You said yourself, she lived with depression most of her life. Depression eats away at you. It worms its way into your mind and tears you down piece by piece. People couldn’t see it, but the sadness, the pain, the emptiness—they were always there. And… they just got to be too much. Her death wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t even her fault.

  “Her death was heartbreaking and unfair, but you can’t continue to blame yourself for things out of your control. You have to stop thinking you could have loved her depression away because you couldn’t have. You loved her. And it was enough. She had many happy years with you. You gave her a daughter and a life and a name.”

  Jill wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a hug. “You have to stop blaming yourself. Of course you deserve happiness. Haseya wouldn’t want you to live a life of loneliness and grief. Be with Margery or whoever makes you happy. Be happy with me and Rose and Luke and your future grandchildren. I want my babies to have a happy family that surrounds them with love and joy. Leave sadness and guilt in the past where they belong. Don’t let your guilt keep you from seeing the amazing things right in front of you. Our family. Our home.”

  Niyol choked on sobs as he clutched his only daughter to him. Jill stroked his back and held him, gazing at her mother’s tombstone. Who cared if Jill knew everything about her mother? She knew she would always carry a part of her mother inside herself, and that was more than enough.

  What
mattered now was her father. He had been just as alone and lost as Jill had been all her life, but now they had found each other. It was a gift Jill intended to cherish for the rest of her days. She and Niyol needed each other now, and it was up to them to take care of each other. As her father’s sobs died down, he raised his head to meet her gaze.

  “Let’s go home, Dad,” she said, releasing him and holding out her hand.

  Niyol took it and helped her stand. Sidling up close to him, Jill clutched his arm as he led them out of the cemetery. They began their trip back to Springvale hopeful for a brighter future together as father and daughter.

  Chapter Twelve: Turkey with a Side of Guilt

  Margery followed as Ainsley skipped into the spacious kitchen of the Twin Peaks Inn.

  “Aunt Rose!” Ainsley squealed, throwing herself into Rose’s arms. “Happy Thanksgiving!”

  Rose laughed and hugged Ainsley back.

  “You came just in time,” Rose told Margery with a grin. “I’m drowning over here.”

  “How many guests are there?” Margery asked, hanging her coat and scarf on a hook and motioning for Ainsley to do the same.

  “We have ten guests. You and Ainsley make twelve. Then there’s me, Danny, Luke, Jill, and Niyol, so seventeen people total.”

  “Oh, you can handle that, Rose. You just want me to do all the work for you, just like in school.”

  Rose stuck her tongue out at Margery, and both women laughed.

  “What about Roger?” Margery asked. “He isn’t coming?” Roger was Luke’s best friend, and they rarely spent a holiday apart.

  “I don’t know, actually, but it might be too soon,” Rose answered in a whisper.

  Margery nodded. She had forgotten about the drama of the past spring—although how that had slipped her mind, she didn’t know. Luke and Roger had fought over Jill like two dogs with a bone. Or maybe more like two wolves with a rabbit.

  In any case, Jill had felt understandably overwhelmed, and she had run off to the woods to think on the whole situation and had gotten caught in a forest fire. Since both Roger and Luke were firefighters, they had helped rescue her.