Tranquility (Turbulence Series Part Two), page 32
“Everything we’ve been through these past weeks is a culmination of that past.”
She said with placating patience, “You’re reaching and trying to take the blame for nothing. You didn’t do this; no one did. You aren’t hurting her. She wants this from you; it’s consensual. Enjoy it and stop obsessing over it. People without trauma also enjoy it.”
Sean watched her. She was hugging herself, looking out over the small expanse of the River Lee, her blonde hair tucked up in a French knot.
Taking a deep breath, Evie faced him again. “How long did it take for you and Jasper to get used to having her around?”
Sean made a face. “Months. It wasn’t that long in her memory, but she was littler; she doesn’t remember as well as we do. They came in the spring, and it wasn’t until mid-summer that she’d come down that dock, tearing her clothes off. She’d dogged our heels up until then, but that’d been a bold move.”
“And she’d needed to make a bold move.”
Sean shook his head. “We wanted to steer clear of her altogether, what with Mags beating on her.”
“No sympathy?”
“No understanding. It scared us. We didn’t want to be around it.”
“What changed?”
Sean relaxed into a smile. “We all did; she settled around us. We saw genuine smiles from her. In the beginning, it didn’t hurt that she looked at us like we were her heroes even though we were mean to her most of the time. It puffed up our egos. And she did whatever we told her to do; she was like our little servant.
“And then that day, she was determined to prove something, and she did,” he said. “We decided we could just treat her like a boy.”
Evie’s smile widened. “Until something else changed, and you decided that you couldn’t.”
Sean made a face and looked away, his lips turning up slightly.
“When did you know she wasn’t just another one of the boys?”
He shook his head. “It wasn’t anything so obvious. I remember getting jealous when she would climb in Jasper’s arms while watching television or her going to him first for anything. Sometimes a look from her—just an innocent look—would create a response in me I didn’t understand. Her touch became confusing. My dreams of her went from benign to something else; she started to enter my consciousness on another level.
“It wasn’t just her body changing. It was how she looked at the world, at us; at me. Everything was a wonder. Learning something new was a delight and an astonishment; she was refreshing. Her joy in the face of…” He shook his head. “On a level, we knew what she hid, but she was so eager for life. So eager for something good… but she was the good.”
Evie’s eyes watered as she listened to him.
“The older I got, I understood what it was, the urges.” He shrugged. “I felt guilty for it, having those thoughts about her when she was so much younger.”
Evie pointed out, “Have you realized that in every picture there is of the two of you, you’re touching each other?”
Sean frowned, intrigued. “I haven’t. But I’ve always thought she was mine. She was ours—our girl—but she was mine more; first. I was the oldest, so I had more of a claim.”
“Interesting, how you all assert ownership of one another.” Then she asked, “What would you have done if she had hinted at having the same type of feelings for you then?”
Sean let out a short laugh. “She was so young, but if she’d stayed... If she could have been allowed to stay, I’ve no doubts we’d’ve been together.”
“You’re that certain about her?”
“Always have been.”
Evie shook her head. “I don’t know if I believe that, considering you never made any effort in the past eleven years to get her back.”
Sean stared at her. “Because I didn’t get on a plane, follow her to America, and drag a teenager back to Ireland?”
“She didn’t stay a teenager.”
“We, neither of us, did,” he pointed out. “I convinced myself it’d been a youthful fancy.”
The corner of Evie’s mouth lifted. “But a failed engagement later, and you weren’t certain?”
He shook his head. “As you pointed out, I never had any hint that she had an interest in me, so why chase after a girl who wanted no part? And the way she’d left, along with only random and impersonal communications… I didn’t make assumptions.”
“That’s what you told yourself?”
“I tried to put her out of my mind.”
“Didn’t work.”
He smiled. “Never worked. But I didn’t examine failed relationships too closely; I was just relieved they were over.”
Evie gave him a questioning look.
“They were too much work.”
At that, she laughed outright. “And Brit isn’t?”
Sean shook his head. “It’s like a dance with her, one where you never want the music to end. As crazy as the music gets, it’s still music, and it’s still your dance.”
Evie’s expression softened when he said it, her smile sad. She looked away at the people wandering by, at the traffic rounding the bend. “I’ve never broken a confidence in my entire career, Sean, and I won’t now. I can’t tell you what it is, but I’m walking away because you’re going to get hurt, and I can’t stand back and watch that happen. The knowing is bad enough; I don’t want to be a witness to it.”
Sean stared intently at her, his heart plummeting, waiting for more, waiting for the key to her riddle.
Evie sighed heavily. “It’s selfish for me to leave. I wish I didn’t care for the two of you the way I do, but I do. It’s not professional, so I need to step away. And I can’t see you hurt. I can’t see you both hurt.”
“It’s more than that she doesn’t love me,” Sean prompted, trying to get more from her.
“I can’t answer that. I’ve already said too much.”
“Damn it, Evie, you can’t say something like that and not give me anything.”
Evie’s head fell back as she contemplated the sky. “I shouldn’t have said that; I just wanted you to be prepared somehow.”
“Prepared for what?”
Leveling her pale blue eyes on him, she said mournfully, “I’m afraid your music is about to end.”
Chapter thirty-six
SEAN
When Evie walked away, Sean thought his legs would give beneath him; he thought he would crumble to the pavement right there by the railing of the River Lee. She’d hugged him and said she was sorry, and then she’d turned and simply walked away without looking back, her chin tucked down to her chest, not noticing the glances of men as she passed them by.
But he didn’t collapse. Instead, he finished off his Starbucks and found a recycling bin to toss the cup. He wouldn’t panic; he couldn’t afford to do so. He went over what Evie had said: she didn’t want to witness watching him get hurt. She’d amended it to seeing them both hurt.
A sickening feeling went through him at the thought that Evie knew something she couldn’t reveal about what had happened, that there was still something looming, that this could be about Jasper. What had he taunted? Did he own her darkness? Had he never relinquished her?
At that moment, his mobile vibrated. Taking it out, he saw the message was from Brit; she was finished with the meeting. He texted her directions to the National Monument and asked her to meet him here. She was only a few blocks away from him.
He saw her coming down the hill on the sidewalk before she noticed him. Her hair was back in a ponytail, swinging behind her as she walked briskly; a few tendrils had escaped, framing her face and dancing across her cheeks in the light wind. She was wearing blue jeans and a black turtleneck sweater; her camera slung cross-body. A few men gave appreciative glances to how the strap enhanced her breasts, but she could have been alone on the pavement, she was so oblivious to their stares.
She reached up and pushed her wayward hair behind an ear, her eyes scanning the individuals around the National Monument, looking for him. She’d yet to look beyond the railing to the man leaning there, watching her, arms folded over his chest, his feet crossed at his ankles. But when she finally did, her face lit with a smile. As focused as she was on him, she walked right into the street without looking, earning an angry honk. With a slight jump back, she waved an apologetic hand at the woman behind the wheel.
Once the coast was clear, she crossed the street and made her way to him. He shook his head at her with a small smile. As she approached, he pointed out, “They’ve traffic lights, you know.”
Brit looked back over her shoulder at the crosswalk. “Those are for tourists.” She walked up to him and placed her hands on his crossed arms, rising on her tiptoes to kiss him.
Although slightly guarded in the face of Evie’s words, he wouldn’t deny her—or himself—a kiss; he leaned down slightly to meet her lips. She made a surprised sound, her kiss turning into a hybrid of kisses, sucks, and licks. With a surprised laugh, he pulled back, “What’re you doing?” He appreciated that when they were away from the manor, she was more relaxed; more playful.
“You taste like coffee,” she informed him, looking at his lips as though she was ready for a second sampling.
Sean laughed, unfolding his arms and taking one of hers, steering her away as he started to lead her across the pedestrian bridge. “I can get you a cup of coffee.” As soon as he had her headed in the right direction, he dropped his arm around her, resting his hand at her waist, her camera occasionally bumping into his arm. “What was your meeting about?”
Brit made a face. “I think Ferris has lost his mind, or he’s become fascinated with the Irish.” She glanced askance at him and teased, “I blame you. But that had to be the most confusing teleconference I’ve ever been a part of.”
“How so?”
“Well, first of all, I’m not involved in the logistics; I get an assignment, and I go. I don’t really care how or why. Second, the Examiner has access to other sources for photography, so I’m not certain what Ferris’s end game was—neither were they. It was a very awkward Zoom meeting. And I can’t do anything for them now anyway, so I wasn’t sure why I was there, except to drink their tea and not cringe at everything Ferris was saying. They were very polite, though.”
Sean smiled; poor Ferris, he owed the man a beer, apparently looking like an incompetent fool to distract Brit long enough for Sean to talk to Evie, not that his conversation had resulted in anything other than increased confusion.
“I guess it’s never a bad thing to network, and it’s not anything I’m involved with, so maybe it was normal. It didn’t feel normal, so I hope it’s over and I don’t have to do it again,” she declared. “Give me a camera and a field any day over an office.
“The good thing is, they did say they would pull back the pressure on our story.”
Sean glanced over at her. “There’s a ‘but’ coming, sure.”
“They’ll want an exclusive during and after the trial.” She glanced at him hesitantly. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
“You think I’m going to leave it to you alone?”
Brit shrugged. “Ferris said he’d be here to navigate. I took that to mean… protect us. If he can.”
On the other side of the pedestrian bridge, Sean took a couple of steps to the right and paused. Brit looked up at him quizzically. He nodded across the street at a large red brick building, four stories with a small iron-rail balcony at the top, skirting a half-circle window. The ground entry declared “Quay Coop Organic and Wholefoods.”
“As long as the coffee’s good, I’m not picky.”
Sean smiled down at her. “Do you see the red door to the side there?”
She nodded.
“That’s the front entrance to the building; there’s a hallway that takes you around to stairs up to the flat. The three levels above the Quay Coop sign; that’s what I’ve bought.”
Her jaw went slack.
Sean smiled at her reaction. “And it's in the coop we’ll find the coffee shop.” He nudged her. “Shall we test it out?”
She turned and looked back across the pedestrian bridge at the National Monument, then again at the Quay Coop. She nodded.
“Brilliant,” he said, checking out the one-way traffic before crossing the street with her. “It’s Sullivan’s Quay, this. There’s an entrance in the back, but I’ll be wanting you to use the front when it’s dark.”
“This makes it real,” she commented as they approached the open doors of the coop.
“I hope in a good way.”
She didn’t answer.
He continued, “My commute dropped to ten minutes. The bus is twenty minutes; in all, less time getting to hospital regardless of the method.”
“That’s good.”
“It is,” he agreed. He navigated them through the store to the coffee dock. He watched her look around and up at the ceiling, which was in a sense their floor, while he ordered two coffees. The order filled, he brought it back to her while she was still looking around. “You want a tour of the flat?”
Brit gave him a skeptical look. “You can get in?”
“I might know the owner.”
She smiled back and then nodded shyly.
Pleased by her interest, Sean took her free hand and led her back out the front of the store and over to the red door. He fished out the keys and proceeded to unlock it. “Honestly, I’ve not seen it myself; only photos, so it’s my first time, too. There’ve been workers in here, making adjustments I’d asked after.”
“I can’t believe you’ve trusted something like this with just photos.”
He gave her a strange look at her words as he pushed the door open and invited her to enter before him. Photos were her life.
They entered a non-descript hallway with its bank of mailboxes; it looked like any apartment building hallway—it wasn’t the most kept-up space, but they typically weren’t. It was meant to be functional, and it was.
Shutting the door behind them, he led them down the hall and around a corner to another hall and up a slight staircase that looked like it belonged in the Victorian era; they were broad and solid. At the top, he inserted a couple of keys into two locks and swung the door open, taking a look around himself as he reached back and escorted her across the threshold with him.
The first thing they noticed was the smell of paint and varnish; the work was still underway. A flight of stairs leading upward greeted them immediately. To the right, the room opened up expansively to the two large pane windows overlooking the River Lee and Cork City beyond. The windows were nearly floor-to-ceiling, allowing in a lot of light. The only other windows were a series of small frosted squares heading up along the stairs, more for light than to see out.
The floors were hardwood; a brick hearth with black grating was located mid-point along the right wall. Tucked back beneath the stairs was a full-size refrigerator. The kitchen expanded along the far wall with the sink, cabinetry, and oven; the island created an L-shape into the room, allowing for additional storage and the combination washer-dryer beneath.
“I didn’t order a dining set,” Sean said almost as an afterthought as he looked around the room.
Walking further into the room, Brit walked up to the island, which included an overhang underneath which stools could be placed. “Do you need one? How often do you plan on entertaining?” She shrugged off her camera and put it on the countertop.
His thoughts were more domestically inclined, imagining a family sitting around the table, but in light of her answer, he realized he was getting way too far ahead of himself. However, he liked the look of her camera on the counter.
Brit was slowly walking around in the ample space in front of the windows. “Are you planning on putting the sectional here?” She sounded doubtful.
“It’s going on the top floor; let’s go up.” He headed toward the stairs.
Brit followed, running up the stairs to catch up to him. She asked, “How many bedrooms?”
“Three.”
The master took almost half of the second floor; when one walked in, a large closet was to the right with built-in drawers, and a bathroom was next to that. Sean was partial to clawfoot tubs and straight-entry showers, so this bathroom was being designed along those lines.
Brit hooked her thumb over her shoulder. “I’m impressed with the actual closet instead of an armoire.”
Sean grinned at her.
Walking up to the equally large window looking out over Cork, Brit asked, “Were the curtains you ordered for these windows?”
“They were.”
She stood back, eyeing the windows again. “I’m not sure you ordered them large enough.” With her smile, she raised an eyebrow. “You might be giving all of Cork a show if you aren’t careful.”
Coming up behind her, he slipped his arms around her and teased against her ear, “You mean we’ll be giving all of Cork a show, and I don’t care about being careful.”
With a placating smile, she reminded him, “I’m a temporary installment.” And then she gently pushed back against him to release his hold.
He wondered if her quip bothered him because of Evie’s ominous words or if they would have bothered him anyway.
The two smaller rooms shared a bathroom, which was also the guest bath; the hallway to reach them was narrow and ran the partial length of the master. Because the interior bedroom had no windows to the outside, there were framed windows toward the tops of the rooms to allow light to flow through from the front bedroom to the bathroom and the second bedroom.
The third floor was almost empty except for paint and varnish cans, cloth tarps, and two ladders of differing heights. One expansive space of hardwood floors led up to the large half-circle windows and small balcony. A tiny kitchenette that only offered a sink, a refrigerator, and a microwave was situated in the back corner on the other side of the stairs. Another half-circle window allowed light in over the stairs.
“I’ll bring the sectional up here and desks. This is the office.”
Brit nodded. “It’s lovely, Sean; it’s better than most homes in the States, and the location can’t be beaten. You did a great job.”
