Temper: Book One of the Taboo Series, page 18
Anya and her companion followed me into the den. Anya's eyes bounced around nervously as she twisted the letter.
“This is Dimitri,” she offered, her voice high in pitch with expectation. Her eyes jumped towards the stairs as though waiting for Hugh to emerge. How cruel he could be, even in absence.
I glanced at the man with a polite nod. Something about him made me uneasy. He didn't seem to ever blink. My distrust inflated in the way his eyes seemed to soak themselves into my thoughts, his smile small but sad. I turned away and tried not to growl at the gentle intrusion.
I reached a hand out to Anya, “My name is Olivia, and this is my home.”
A realization dawned on Anya’s face as her pretty and cupid’s bow lips parted. “The Daisy,” she whispered in awe.
“No, Olivia,” I repeated with slow syllables. Was the scent of weed in her hair too fresh?
Her laugh was tiny and clear, “I know who you are. Hugh’s spoken so much about you. Or, did.” her thoughts trailed off as she clutched the letter to her breast. I gestured for her to sit, seeing the genuine sadness consume her.
Stan's eyes questioned me as he set a platter of mugs full of cider and a plate of warmed cookies on the coffee table. I gave him an introduction as Dimitri's focus settled on Stan. I observed their silent interaction. Stan didn’t seem nearly as uncomfortable, more confused and curious by the strange man’s demeanor.
I lifted a cup and Anya did the same. She held it to warm her hands and keep them occupied. “Hugh doesn’t live here, he hasn’t for almost two years,” I told her gently.
Disappointment fell on her face. She blew a strand of red curls from her cheek. “He went back? I was hoping he was smarter than that.”
The uncomfortable boundaries of her loyalties nudged against me. “You’re both welcome to stay the evening. There aren’t many inns in the area,” I offered out of politeness.
I thought of the motel on the highway and my disconcerting night with Hugh but bit my tongue to distract myself. She’d need all of her strength in the morning if she were to decide to brave the horrible mansion.
Anya filled with relief and grinned. Static fogged my mind. She reminded me of a young, innocent Hugh- so expressive and open. I tried not to cringe at the blossom of emotion in my chest.
My heart didn’t know what to do. I was pulled towards her transparency and honest personality yet remained guarded with the granite I fought to mend.
Chapter 36- Aerate
I showed them to the guest room as Stan announced dinner to be ready in an hour. Anxiety tightened my mind and muscles as I settled in the den. It wasn’t simply the newness of having a guest in the home. It was the guests themselves and the emotions they evoked.
Dimitri grinned at me as though he knew my darkest, bloodiest secrets as he passed to receive their luggage from the car. I could smell the faint hints of beef from the kitchen and sighed. Ruth was always adamant in teaching me that not everyone held my same values and to make sure guests had a plethora of options at mealtime.
I settled onto the cushions of the sofa and remembered how she supported me so thoroughly. She rid the house of all sables, stoles, and anything else fur or leather.
Anya appeared and smiled as she sat next to me, looking at the cover of my book as I set it aside.
“Hugh mentioned your appreciation for John Fowles once,” she said as she settled back. The way she watched my expression made me wince.
“You remind me of him,” I admitted quietly. She didn’t need me to elaborate.
She nodded knowingly, “You haven’t kept up with Hugh over the years much, have you? I thought I’d meet you at Hannah’s funeral, to be honest.” I thought I heard a slight tone of judgment in her voice.
I hesitated, not knowing how to excuse my absence without exposing the embarrassing truth. “I didn’t know when she died,” I finally responded, trying to remain discreet without lying. “Last time I saw her she was helping me through some things.” The vivid memory fought my vision.
Anya nodded. “She got fired for that.”
I blanched at her, “Excuse me?”
Her face showed her curiosity. It was endearing, this redheaded book laid open for me to read so clearly. “She came with Hugh to my sister’s funeral. He told me he was having some mental issues about that horrible woman, Elizabeth. Hannah never knew about it though,” Anya’s voice softened as her gaze focused on the memory and filled with sadness. “His devotion to you has always been astonishing.” I flinched at the lie she so obviously believed. “He told me a bit about the things he did for you but he was vague.”
I remembered Stan proclaiming Hugh had sacrificed himself for me but it didn’t make sense. I was gone from that house and he still stayed. Regardless of what they believed, he didn’t do it for me.
Anya continued, “And when he got home, and they helped you with whatever happened, apparently Hugh went into a rage on Elizabeth. I’m still convinced she fired Hannah for Hugh’s tantrum, even if it was earned. Hannah hid for a while, saying she didn’t feel safe. I guess she was right. The last I talked to him he said the threats wouldn’t stop.”
I couldn’t help but ask, “What threats did Elizabeth make?” His voice echoed, ‘I never had a choice.’
“She threatened you,” Anya answered, watching my face. Her tone clipped as though she expected me to know the answer.
I trembled as though his voice moved through me. ‘You’re selfish, ungrateful, and blind. You’re not the sole person she’s been punishing all these years.’
I shook my head, denying. He must have repeated the same lies to her. “Hugh didn’t care what Elizabeth did to me,” I corrected her. “He witnessed everything, and still chose to be with her.”
Anya squinted as though I was being ridiculous. “You don’t know Hugh as well as I thought you would have.”
My blood turned cold at her stubbornness. “You may assume what you’d like, but I know what I’ve witnessed.” My composure was melting. “He used to be different. Either he changed, or he was never real before.”
There was a sad, secretive smile on her lips and pity in her eyes. “You aren’t giving him the credit he deserves.”
The sensible area of my mind reared its head, pushing away the possibilities of her words. I scoffed at her. “He admitted Elizabeth was the one who could give him what he wanted and I couldn’t. So excuse me if I don’t find him credible,” I bit at her.
Something about the way her brows lifted, as though telling me to think harder, rattled me.
Stan startled us both out of our staring, silent battle to announce dinner as Dimitri came down the hall. I squared my shoulders and reminded myself to play hostess. I couldn't forget where Anya’s faith resided.
✷✴✷
Anya devoured her chateaubriand openly, her thin frame having never suggested how much she could eat. Stan took her appetite as a personal compliment to his culinary skills.
He asked her questions and I listened intently to her answers and her voice. I watched her reactions to decipher who she was and hoped to catch her lying. I resented my urge to trust her and searched for an excuse not to, other than her relation to Hugh. I couldn’t help but respect her adamant faith in him.
Stan asked about Hugh, mentioning he hadn’t heard from him in too long. He missed Hugh. His gaze lifted to mine as he remembered the sight of Hugh shooting away from us down the drive and the argument in the den.
Dimitri shot me a strange, apologetic glance when Hugh’s name dominated the conversation. I tried not to focus, but Anya seemed to look to me often as though to make sure I was listening. My obedience to manners wouldn’t permit me to zone out company.
I noticed her good-natured sass and lack of knowledge when it came to the table setting. It intrigued me as she used her salad fork on her pasta. Envy tinted my thoughts as I mused about the lax, comfortable life she must live.
She laughed easily, her smile genuine, and her concern sincere when Stan mentioned vaguely my lack of appetite. I knew I was barely skimming the top of her personality. She recently lost her sister and aunt but still shimmered with life.
As I cleared the table I listened to the joy it brought Stan to be in the company of people who provided warmth. Though it hurt to realize what I couldn’t give my own family, it was nice to see him so satisfied. I thought back to the smile in his eyes when Hugh agreed to keep him company during semesters.
I bid Anya and Dimitri a good night, welcoming them to venture upstairs if they needed anything from me. I felt the imminent change in the air with the fresh taste of life in the house. I rested easily, knowing it would fade in the morning with their departure.
Chapter 37- Mold
I showered and hurried to cook breakfast. I was never a gifted cook but wanted to allow Stan a reprieve. As I neared I heard Anya’s voice tinkling from the kitchen and bacon sizzling on the stove.
I peered into the room to see Stan leaning against the counter. Anya’s mouth was already working on a crispy strip. She grinned at me, her face bright and fresh. Her friendliness made me uneasy as I smiled back. She noticed but refused to be dimmed.
“Dimitri is still asleep. Is it ok if I leave him to rest while I go see Hugh?”
I nodded, “Of course. I’m sure Hugh would feel more comfortable with privacy.” I kicked myself mentally. I shouldn’t care about what he wanted.
Anya shoved down her toast and fruit before grabbing another handful of bacon to take at the request of Stan.
The moment her car door closed Dimitri appeared in the doorway of the dining room. He settled into her chair and engaged Stan in a steady drum of conversation.
I backed into the den. I enjoyed their company but felt incapable of being a good enough host. No one could compare to the open arms of Ruth.
I read by the fire through the hours, but my mind fought to focus on the words. Worries of Anya entering the mansion sparked. I imagined he would show her his room and she would feel the secrets. Did the pages still hide beneath the mattress?
Images and words from the articles popped into my mind as mental photographs. It wasn’t the first time I felt a morbid curiosity about that time in her life. The house in the background looked ready to fall around the police. I fantasized about how it would feel to confront the withering wood of the building.
I jerked when I glanced up from the novel to see Dimitri doing the same across the coffee table. I tried to feign comfort in his presence. His eyes didn’t skim the pages in his hands either as though he was focusing on elusive thoughts.
The moment I heard the beep of Anya at the gate I stood and rushed to punch in the code. The car revved down the drive and I felt my heart sink as I realized the time.
I assumed he had been rude to make her leave so soon. Though my sympathetic heart ached for her I was relieved she could finally see his ruthless nature. She would move on from her worry and pain the way I couldn't.
She stood from the vehicle with her blue eyes red and her cheeks puffy. Stan opened the front door and we watched her enter. She held her head high as though preserving all possible dignity.
Her eyes met mine. My expression must have told her my thoughts as her lip began to tremble. My throat hurt for her pain. I tried to find the words to console, “I know. He can be cruel, but it’s not your fault.”
The damn broke and tears began to stream. Her voice seethed, her pain and anger seemingly aimed at me as she flailed her hands with her words, “He tried. I watched him struggle against the servants in the front door as he tried to come to me. It was Elizabeth who wouldn’t let me in. She stood there with a sickeningly satisfied smirk on her face. He’s her possession, her toy. And she won’t let anyone else play with him.” The vitriol in her voice, her climbing volume, and the raw emotions in her eyes made me reach out.
She called him her favorite toy. My head was nodding in agreement as my heart bled for her- for him.
I was possessed, failing as I tried desperately to purge him from my heart. I glanced over Anya's shoulder. Stan’s lips were set in a grim line as though he had been waiting for reality to stricken me. My teeth sunk into my lip as his own tales of Hugh’s disastrous life flooded me.
Anya choked on snot. I meant to put a hand on her shoulder in comfort but her arms wrapped around my neck in a hug. Her voice was kind even through the tears, “I can’t believe you lived there with her. I can’t imagine what you went through.”
She held me, comforting me as her own heart lay broken and angry. My head nodded in gratitude for validation. My eyes stung as my lungs burned, my body realizing my emotions before my heart could.
My arms wrapped around her waist, returning the gesture. I felt her tears as my own fought to escape.
The truth piled around me. I had ignored it until it collapsed. I still didn’t understand why he remained but I needed to find out. We pulled apart and I wiped the mist from my eyes.
“We’ll pack up and be on our way,” she said, dejected.
I caught her hands, pulling her back as my heart jumped with an idea. “Would you stay a few days? I know how you can get in to see him.”
The thought of such a rebellion, infiltrating Elizabeth’s home, was titillating and fearsome. Though my intentions were for Hugh, I would need Anya's help.
Anya grinned, slow and hopeful. Excitement brimmed in her eyes. “We’d love to stay. And I’d love even more to bring down the bitch.”
I showed Anya up to my room, excited to have an ally. Her eyes lingered on the black piece hanging from the dress-form. The low whistle made me blush as she glanced at me, “It’s going to look amazing on you.”
I shook my head, “I’m not sure what I was thinking when I designed it. I didn’t want to do what was expected of me, for once.” I turned and retrieved the boxed gown from the closet. “This is the spare dress and mask I have. It’s the set she sent me.”
Anya lifted the gown and held it to herself. “The demon has good taste.”
I smirked and helped her pull it on. I measured to make the necessary adjustments. “Your waist should not be this tiny, considering how much you eat,” I joked as I readied to let out the chest and hips. I was relieved to find the hem fairly high so I could make it perfect for her height.
Through the days she sat with me while I worked on the gowns and helped me mold, drill, paint, and design a mask with plaster and lace. I was grateful for her artistic eye and skillful hand with a paintbrush.
Silence consumed us. My mind began to stray from the work of my hands. The trauma that once consumed me was devouring Hugh. I couldn’t escape the regret and conflicting emotions.
I allowed him to go back, his free will unhampered by own needs. I was selfish to not fight harder for his sanity though the secrets I now knew would have complicated the moment.
I began to envision how I could free him. If he stayed because he truly loved her my actions might become driven by spite. Regardless of his reasons he wouldn’t be able to choose her if I handed him the words of William along with the truth.
Anya noticed the fear in my eyes and stiff movements as I left the room. Her curiosity piqued when I returned with the diary in my hands. I laid it on the bed, unable to speak.
Hugh must have mentioned William to her before. Her eyes grew round as she opened the cover. I let her read what she would of it, but it wasn’t long before her face tinted with gray and she closed the pages.
“Have you read this?” she asked. I shook my head. “Don’t.”
I didn't care to read about the man who tore apart my life without ever touching me. I worried Hugh would find the articles beneath the mattress. I almost prayed he wouldn’t.
I never wanted him to witness the last picture. Parts of me still shook in fear and rage at the thought of Hugh but I never doubted his love and devotion for Ruth. No one deserved to see the torment she had suffered.
The obsession began to grow and I lost the power to conceal it. Stan could feel it. Anya saw it in the lost look in my eyes. Dimitri's solemn voice asked as I stared at the computer screen one quiet night, “What’s bothering you?”
I had snuck away, unable to sleep as I fought to understand. Elizabeth worshiped her brother. The proof hid in her home and still, she cared more for him than she ever did for her own daughter. It was baffling.
I stared at the image on the computer. It was the same dreadful picture hiding beneath Hugh’s sleeping frame.
Dimitri stepped closer to peer over my shoulder. “That was your mother?” he whispered. I nodded, unable to look away from the gruesome image.
It wasn’t Ruth I was looking at any longer. William had captured my attention for hours. My eyes burned from staring at the screen for too long. He had been so cruel yet his glory was too reminiscent of his son’s. It was earth-shattering to know I still loved the man that was the reflection of such evil.
“Have you ever been there, to Memphis?” he asked.
I blinked and turned to see him leaning over me. “No. I’ve thought about it but wouldn’t know where to go.”
“Anya’s been there. Her sister loved Elvis.” He paused as though worried to continue. I prodded him with my bloodshot eyes, “She's been needing to go back for a while now to tie up some loose ends.”
He reached out and touched a blurry, pixelated piece of the house. He took the mouse, zoomed, enhanced, and a house number came into view. I rolled my eyes and huffed at myself.
For months I made a million attempts to do what he accomplished in seconds. “With this and a bit more digging, I can find an address for you.”
I feared the possibility of my fantasies coming to fruition yet nodded vigorously. “Thank you.” He gave me a smile and I stood, giving him room to work.
Chapter 38- Hull
The darkness was intimidating against the tiny drop of light from our car. Trees zoomed past into the black as Anya drove along the highway and I struggled to hide the climbing fear.
