Temper: Book One of the Taboo Series, page 6
He witnessed me in all of my chaos and disorderly heart. He accepted all of it.
He showed it with a gentle caress and tightened his arms. His body eventually turned into mine until he was clinging to me as frantically as I was to him.
✷✴✷
I squeezed my eyes tight against the reality that our night was gone. My heart felt bruised yet pleased as if it was clenched too hard by well-meaning hands.
His fingertips moved across my face as I continued feigning sleep. His modest hands pulled the sheet over my thigh before the softness of his lips whispered a kiss across my shoulder.
My skin felt as though it melted beneath his touch. I didn’t know what to do with his affection. I didn’t know how to control my need for more. It was maddening, laying so still as he stared down at me.
Disappointment weighed against me as he lifted from my bed without me ever acknowledging his touch or giving myself the chance to return it. I didn’t know how, simply that I wanted to.
Chapter 9- Cracked
He stumbled from the bed in a sleepy fog and stopped to look at my vanity. He cocked his head in amusement at the collection chapstick tubes before wobbling from the room into the hall. Once he disappeared I allowed myself to move.
The memories from the night before flooded me. My sanity dissipated the night before. It was addicting. He was dangerous when he was delicate.
I slid from the bed and pulled myself into the shower. The water burned my flesh until the exquisite touch of life he gifted me slipped away. I cleared my mind enough to be able to spend the last few minutes with Mr. Stan in peace. I knew I could come home whenever I wanted but would still miss him between visits.
I found him sitting on the counter in the kitchen with a laugh in his chest and breakfast in hand. Hugh was doing his dance at the stove, plating another spinach omelet. Mr. Stan’s eyes caught mine and I saw the sad twinkle.
Hugh turned to see what captured his attention and passed me a plate with a smile. I was used to his scowl but his smile was even more attractive.
“How much rent would you charge me?”
It took me a minute to realize what he was asking. “I don’t know. What do you think, Mr. Stan?”
Excitement lit his face as he slid from the counter. “It wouldn’t be necessary, the room is doing nothing but collecting dust. Let’s put it to use.”
Hugh looked between us. “Would you stay here during the semester?” I asked formally.
“Thank you.” It was comforting to know I could catch a ride with him whenever I needed home. He grinned, granting me a sight of his most obvious physical flaw- a slightly crooked tooth. I huffed at myself when my heart began to flutter.
After breakfast, I kissed Mr. Stan goodbye. I tried to keep my eyes clear as I made my way to the car. Hugh offered Mr. Stan a polite hand on the porch. He rejected the formality and pulled Hugh in for a tight hug.
Warmth spread in my chest. Hugh was going to be there to keep Mr. Stan company and take care of him. Jealousy bit at me but I reigned it in. One day I would come home permanently.
I slid into the car and settled back, preparing myself for the return to the depressing mansion. I stared up at my bedroom window.
I left my red pumps behind. I felt as though they belonged there, where happiness reigned regardless of the stains in the other room. Home.
Hugh opened the driver’s side door and I tried to clear my mind. His tight smile told me that when he looked at me he could feel the emotions in my body. I looked away.
The ride back was much more somber than the ride home had been. As we neared the gates to the estate his hand brushed mine in comfort. I looked to see his eyes flash in distress and couldn’t help but to weave my fingers into his. The gesture eased him. He relaxed as we neared the house and drove us around to the garage.
“You hate it here?” He didn’t look at me as he asked. He let his hands slide over the leather of the steering wheel, his jaw tight in anticipation of my answer.
I responded with a simple, “Yes.” He squinted against his thoughts. He unfastened his seatbelt and stood from the car. His gait was long and determined as he walked around to open my door, offering me a hand. I turned in surprise as he led me out the large, open door into the sunlight. “Where are we going?”
“You have the woods at home for peace, right?” I nodded, feeling insecure at my obvious attachment to the forest. “I have a similar place. It lacks furry creatures, though.”
His soft voice and the way he avoided my stare told me he was trying to grant me his own transparency. As the sun beamed down on us, his gentle fingers gripped mine. I recognized his singed nerves and cracked demeanor as he welcomed me in.
He lead me around the house to the back. My anxiety grew when he turned us toward the path surrounded by towering walls of flowers. I didn’t know how to express to him my fear of the garden.
He glanced back as I weighed my trepidation before continuing. He was trying to share something with me. He was trying to share a part of himself. I smiled to urge him to continue while trying not to tighten my grip on his hand.
We plunged into the garden. Colors swirled around us as scents lifted into the air and overwhelmed me. My lungs tightened as memories tried to pull me from the present. I kept my eyes on his hair dancing with his steps, the strong muscles in his arms, and his eyes when he looked back to me.
The moment snapped into completion as I succumbed to the memory- Hugh’s eyes on a much younger face as we laughed and played between the walls of colors. His smile radiated even with a front tooth missing. Emotions rose from the vision as I felt myself, not ten years ago, lean over and give him a tiny, sweet kiss. Giggles bubbled in my chest before I ran away. I remembered turning back to see him standing on the path with crimson cheeks and a wide grin.
I was terrified that memories of Father would force their way into my head, but something kinder happened. Hugh stopped as we came to a cove at the end of the path. I had never been so far into the garden before.
It wasn’t the colors around me that mesmerized; it was his eyes and expression as he waited for my reaction. I was taken aback by the care he took as he released my hand and backed away, trying to let me see his home.
I looked past him to the large fountain spraying a pillar of water into the air before it fell back into a frothy pool. At the far end of the large circular area was a small wooden bench, almost hidden within the foliage. My eyes found the one absence of color. The large buds shook with laughter in the wind. Hugh’s eyes followed mine. He stepped towards the bush of white roses.
He pulled a healthy blossom away and walked toward me with a contemplative frown as his fingers pried away thorns. A one pierced his thumb but he didn’t wince. When he handed me the rose there was a tiny drop of blood on a pristine petal.
I could barely hear my own whisper, “Thank you,” over the violent hammering of my heart.
“I should go see my mom. She’s waiting for me.”
I tried to smile through the fear of being left alone in the garden and the pride of not wanting to show it, “Thank you for taking me home and back. It meant an incredible amount to me.”
A smile spread across his scarred lips. He turned and wound his way down the path, out of sight. I huffed at my own emotions, impatient with myself. I turned and walked to the bench.
I sucked in the heavy summer air, filled with the overwhelming floral bouquet. I squinted against the sunlight glinting off the fountain’s spray. It was beautiful. It was a tiny, ethereal world separate from the rest of the house yet as overwhelming.
Hugh found peace in the garden. I could understand why but it was painfully vivid. The colors and movements twisted my imagination into my sanity until I couldn't separate them. Regardless of the bright colors, the whisper in the flowers seemed tainted with dark memories and pain. Something seemed to be soaked into the earth- trepidation incarnate buried underneath my feet.
I focused on the vivid white across, the gurgling of the water, and the hot wind blowing across my skin. I could feel his peace in those white buds. The air, soil, and colors all felt dark to me in the garden, but not the roses. They had witnessed hope, and craved more.
Chapter 10- Warm
The evening washed over the estate before I was ready to turn away. I stared at the bush of thorns and white petals for hours, twirling my chapstick between my fingers. I contemplated life, my parents, and my own needs on that bench.
The house was quiet as I made my way through. Dissatisfaction tasted bitter as I turned into the bedroom. It still wasn’t mine and I doubted it ever would be. It was a shrine to Ruth.
I found a small, pretty crystal vase in the bathroom and filled it with water. I admired the weave of engraved ribbons across its gleaming surface before settling the rose Hugh gave me into it and placing it on the nightstand. I stood back and appreciated how one small item made it feel less her room and more my own.
I looked up at the sound of a tap at the open door. Hannah peered in at me. “Is everything alright?” I asked.
“Of course.” Her eyes failed to smile with her lips. She stepped into the room, twisting her hands.
“What’s bothering you?”
She pulled out the vanity bench and motioned for me to sit on the edge of the bed. I obeyed, worried something happened to my grandparents. “I wanted to ask you,” she began, her eyes fluttering around the room. “Hugh seems to avoid conversation relating to you, but I need to know how close the two of you are.”
I stared at her for a moment, unsure of how to respond. The completion of his arms around me and the way his silence calmed my heart in the dark flashed in my mind. I despised lying. The pleading in her patient face made the words tumble, “We aren’t. He’s simply been kind and professional.”
She looked me over before granting me a genuine smile. A heavy sigh of relief puffed from her chest as she stood. “Thank you, darling.”
“Hannah?” She turned back to me. “Would it bother you if Hugh and I were friends?”
An alarming flash of guilt crossed her face. “Hugh needs friends and I hope he’ll make a few at school. But Elizabeth has requested the two of you not get close. I would hate to jeopardize his or even my own employment.”
Something in the way she cast the blame to Elizabeth, her words coming fast and practiced, made me doubt her. “But Grandmother adores Hugh.”
Hannah folded her hands in front of her, “She does.” My eyes grew at her unintentional implications. “If you need anything let me know, ok?” I opened my mouth to thank her as she spun on her heal.
I couldn’t sleep that night. The grandfather clock rang three times as I found the dusty volume and threw myself onto the leather sofa in the library. My mind flitted from the beautiful poetry, to Hannah’s words, to Hugh, and to Grandmother’s apparent distaste.
I felt his eyes on my face and looked toward the library door. He pulled himself from the doorway, his movements slow and his frown contemplative. I pulled my knees up to give him room.
His teeth began their never-ending battle against his lips. “My mom wants me to stay away from you.” Hearing it from his lips made me feel as though there might be something wrong with me.
“I assumed.” I tried to hide the disappointment from my tone.
He didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would sit by and do as he was told though I had witnessed the tender side of him, full of respect and appreciation for his mother. It was the part I found most intriguing.
“She talked to you?” he asked.
I struggled, trying to appear objective for no other reason than to not influence his thoughts. “She made some good points, Hugh. I wouldn’t want you to get fired over me. Plus, we don’t know each other well. You wouldn’t be losing a meaningful relationship.”
“So, you agree. We should stay away from each other.” He didn’t look at me with the words, but I could hear the frustration.
I regretted my own need to be honest before I even answered. “No,” I admitted. His eyes snapped to mine. Every nerve in my body hummed with pleasure at the way he searched my face, his own lifted in surprise. My heart thudded. I’m being selfish. “I won’t blame you if you disagree, though.” I watched his still lips.
Everything I did in my life was for someone else. I always put everyone’s needs above my own, including my parents’. I felt repressed, but not with Hugh. In his presence, I felt heard and my emotions validated, even if he could boil my blood with a simple look.
We sat close in silence. A small smile tilted his lips as he pulled a book close. His eyes took in the words of the pages at lightning speed. My thoughts scattered as his hand rested on my ankle. When the morning brightened he slipped from my side to begin his duties.
Tiny steps neared. Hannah peered at me from across the library. She faltered for a moment, looking me over. When she finally spoke her words stuttered, “Your grandparents will be home soon.”
“Thank you.”
She eyed me but seemed to shake the worry from her mind as she turned. I put away the book before running up the stairs to slip on shoes, brush my hair, and smooth my dress.
I felt as though I smelled like him- vanilla. I debated if there was time to change when I heard the distant slam of the heavy front door.
I hurried down the stairs to see Grandmother and Grandfather standing in the foyer. Grandfather grumbled for breakfast as Grandmother turned to the steps.
“Hello,” she said with a curt tone as she passed me, not caring to look in my direction. I hadn’t expected a warm greeting but more than a cold, simple ‘hello.’
I ignored the sadness and turned to Grandfather. “Hannah said there was a family emergency?” I kept my tone subtle as I tried to pry answers from him.
His head bobbed. “It’s all taken care of now but took a toll on Elizabeth.”
I looked him over, noticing his own pale pallor and a pair of dark circles under his eyes. He was upset about the death of William as well. It made me more curious about the man.
He forced a smile and lead me into the dining room for brunch. We sat across from each other and a heavy silence filled the distance as we waited. The food wouldn’t be served until Grandmother sat.
The sound of a distant crash caused me to shoot from my chair. Grandfather waved me back into my seat. “You wait here. I’ll go see if she’s ok.” I steadied as he hurried from the room.
I began counting tiny scuff marks across the wood of the table. I imagined where each came from, which were from Ruth, or if any were from Father. I huffed and stood, curious what was keeping them.
I climbed the curving steps and walked down the hall to knock at Grandmother’s open bedroom door. “Is everything alright?” I asked.
She shot me a chilling glare as Grandfather threw me a warning look. Terror tinged his dark green eyes as though I was the one he feared. I stepped back, away from the venom in her eyes and the sight of the white towel pressed against her hand, soaked in crimson.
I stumbled away as a flash of the memory of Mother tore through my mind- her vivid blood and their white skin.
Grandfather’s voice trembled towards me, “Olivia?” I wrestled nausea down as Grandfather gripped my shoulders. I focused on his face, trying to clear my mind. His eyes were filled with confusion as he looked to me. “She’ll be down soon, let’s go ahead and eat.”
I let him lead me once again to the dining room, trying not to glance back at the fury radiating after me.
Chapter 11- Shaken
The day was bleak beneath the bright summer sky. Hugh returned to being a mirage, passing me with silent smiles. The fact that we had to be discreet even with an innocent, budding friendship made me worry our intentions ran deeper and if he thought the same. I already craved his company to simply hold a conversation.
We haunted each other through the day and into the evening. Grandmother returned to her normal routine of pouring over numbers in her study. Grandfather disappeared, as usual, to find leisure in privacy.
The house was asleep when I made my way back up the stairs. The day was lonely and I begged to be able to sleep well. I clicked on the bedside lamp.
My thoughts ceased as I looked around the room with confusion. It felt empty.
A sparkle caught my attention. I bent, cautious and confused. I ran my palm over the glitter against the hardwood. Grains of glass bit at my skin.
My heart stuttered as I whirled to the nightstand. The vase and rose were gone.
Disbelief shrouded my thoughts. Paranoia crept through my brain, making my logic stumble. No one explained why Grandmother was bleeding earlier.
My movements were robotic as I readied for bed. I folded myself between the sheets and tried to breathe away my irrational terror and disorientation.
Through the night I woke from nightmares of menacing, indecipherable faces behind a veil of blindingly bright blue. Exhaustion teased my mind as I tossed. I would open my eyes to catch a glimpse of the missing, fragile white rose.
I rose sluggish and shaking from the dreams. When I found myself in the dining room Grandmother was already seated.
“Where’s Grandfather?” I asked as I sat.
She glanced at me over her glasses and lowered her newspaper. The sight of her sobered me from my sleep-deprived state.
Her face was bright and flushed. Her hair was pulled tight as usual but messy as though she had jogged around the property.
A plate was set in front of me but I couldn’t pull my eyes from Grandmother. I inspected her as she lifted the half-empty mug of coffee to her lips. Her nails were broken and jagged. My heart lurched at the dry blood beneath some and dirt in the beds of others.
“How long have you been awake?” I asked. I didn’t know where the anxiety in my body came from but knew Grandmother despised dirt.
“I couldn’t sleep last night.” There was a strange, happy lift in her voice she smiled to me. It made me uneasy to hear her voice so soft and serene.
I tried to reason with my panicked heart. She stood and seemed to float from the room. I hurried into the kitchen in search of Hugh and hoped he could tell me I was being ridiculous. He lived with her longer, knew her better. Maybe the behavior was common.
