Broken and Bonded Ch. 03-04

"I see," she said stiffly.

"You feel that I am overstepping my guest status in Greg's home?" he asked lightly.

Trudy shrugged. "This is my brother's home, and I am pretty sure that Greg can speak for himself, if he feels the need -- therefore my feelings do not come into it."

"Well said my dear." he smirked at her knowingly.

Peter came out then with their drinks.

After he had left again Jonathon held up his glass. "A toast," he said jovially. "To new alliances; and to old friendships and relationships renewed."

She looked at him sharply. "I am happy that you and Gregg have been able to renew your friendship, I hope that your relationship with my brother can continue for many years to come."

"Thank you my dear, that was not quite what I meant, but time enough to clarify things I think."

Trudy drank her wine as quickly as she could and then placed the glass gently on the table as soon as she was finished.

"Now, I really do need to go and unpack and sort myself out, and..." she stood up and smiled stiltedly down at Jonathon. "I am so pleased, that you are obviously feeling so much better now."

"Thank you... what should I call you please, miss Beaumont is so formal?"

Trudy hesitated. "My given name is Rowena, so you may call me that if you so wish."

He frowned. "I thought that Greg referred to you as something else?"

"Only my loved ones," Trudy cut in. "Rowena is my given name; you are welcome to use it."

"Very well then, Rowena it is."

"Jonathon," she nodded and then walked away before he could detain her further.

As she moved around her room putting away her things, she thought about Jonathon Richards.

The man was on a mission. He was up to something, and Trudy had a distressing feeling that some it was to do with her.

She sat on the edge of her windowsill, gazing out over the forest. She would avoid him, she decided. Whatever he was up to, she could not stop him. But she was so not going to make herself available to his whims and whimsies.

The silence soothed her, and she closed her eyes briefly as her head touched the coolness of the glass and allowed her thoughts and emotions to process the one fact that she had been skipping around.

He was here. He was actually here again -- after all those years. The love of her existence was under this roof once more, and he couldn't even remember them.

"Oh Belle," she whispered emotionally. "How I wish you were here to talk to!"

The tap on her door had her turning away from the window and wiping at her face quickly.

"Come in!" she called lightly.

It was no real surprise to her when Laurie opened the door and stepped into the room with a wide smile.

"It's a bit like old times -- isn't it?" Laurie said as she dropped down onto her aunt's bed.

"We're just missing Iris," Trudy agreed with a smile.

"Yes, one more female and a lot less males around." Laurie sighed.

"Oh, I don't know, I would think that you rather like having Michael around?"

Her niece's giggle widened Trudy's smile and for the first time it actually reached her eyes.

"Come on," Trudy said lightly. "Let's go and find your father... we have barely spoken to him since we arrived."

The two of them left her room and walked down the landing arm in arm and laughing together, watched had they but known it by Matt.

The two women were about the same build, although Laurie was slightly taller, and from behind, all he could see was their neat figures and the aunt's short, cropped hair next to the glorious main of straight white hair, flowing down Laurie's back.

Matt frowned in confusion. The hair was right in style, but the colour was wrong?

One hair style was the right colour or promised to be -- but it stopped abruptly before it could evolve -- almost as though she used the scissors to dull the colour.

The long hair streaming down Laurie's back was almost perfectly right -- but that cold pristine colour could not warm his soul?

He had seen them coming out of that room together and had sunk back into the shadows.

That was the first time he had seen Ms Beaumont looking anything but annoyed, and her laughter had him rubbing the back of his head as the throbbing began in earnest.

The shadow of a memory brushed his awareness, and he shook his head and clenched his fist in frustration.

He knew oh so well how this would end; the same way that it always ended with him knocking back a bottle of spirits and falling into bed dead drunk. It was the only way to kill the pain once the thumping began.