Flower Ch. 06

I woke up, the warmth and light of the morning sun pulling me from my sleep, and for a few seconds I didn't know where I was, but then it all came back to me. I was safe, at least for now, sleeping in a borrowed t-shirt, in the tiny guest room in Gabriella's house. I was lying in a somewhat sagging bed on sheets made soft by the many times they'd been washed, covered by an old, heavy quilt that had at first made me feel constrained but that now somehow made me feel less anxious and almost... secure.

I stretched and tried to ignore the slight stings from sore muscles and bruised skin, even though I knew that not thinking about bad things wouldn't actually make them go away. One thing that most certainly wouldn't go away was a pressing need to visit the ladies room. I sighed and sat up; it would have been nice to stay in bed for just a little while longer, after all, I didn't have to follow a strict daily plan anymore, did I?

I backed out of the guest room, smiling at the tiny flowers that covered the wall and the only slightly larger flowers that someone had put in a teacup on the windowsill. The room looked like it was made for a small princess, and I could almost imagine the shelf on the wall holding books for children, the wooden box in the corner being filled with toys and a giggling baby girl lying in the bed I had slept in. I sighed and smiled sadly at the thought of the daughter I would never have. My biological clock kept ticking, but even if I sometimes I dreamt about children of my own, I kept reminding myself that there was no sense living in a world of what if's.

I closed the door both to the room and to my pink princess dreams and turned around to the picture of a slightly gaping, wide eyed Sean. I had forgotten that the room was directly connected to the kitchen. I tugged at my t-shirt and walked quickly out of there, my face red and embarrassed, needing to take care of that increasingly urgent matter.

Minutes later I stood staring at my face in the mirror, scanning my image for signs of the life I had lived and the escape I had made. My skin was pale, my eyes big and sad-looking and there was a tightness around my mouth that I hadn't seen before. I sighed and shook my head; I was still scared, little old me. And without makeup and the smile I had worn day in and day out, this was as good as it got.

Gabriella knocked softly on the bathroom door and told me she'd put some clothes for me to wear on the chair just outside the room. Oh good, I thought, at least I wouldn't have to parade almost naked in front of a wide eyed police officer again. I sneaked the door open and quickly retrieved the bundle of clothes. The pants and sweater set Gabriella had brought me was soft and a bit larger than my usual size, but I didn't feel like wearing anything tight and constraining anyway; I liked feeling soft and smooth and... free.

I walked back into the kitchen feeling shy and awkward, tugging at the sweater and biting my lower lip. I tried to avoid looking at Sean, not wanting to add embarrassment to the insecurity I was feeling. Instead I looked at Gabriella, who of course pointed me to a chair across the table from her nephew, effectively spoiling my efforts at ignoring him.

I sat down and I looked at the dark-haired man in front of me, there really wasn't much else I could do. He sat staring fixedly at his plate, as if he was also trying to avoid looking at me. I looked up at Gabriella as I heard her laugh quietly. She was glanced at her tense and tired-looking nephew before muttering something about silly boys and pretty girls. I looked back at Sean just in time to see his face turn just a few shades redder; Gabriella's continued low laughter made me think that she had seen it as well. It felt good to know that it wasn't just me that had felt the tension and embarrassment of our early morning meeting.

I looked away and tried to familiarize myself with the small kitchen, finding it just as nice as Edward's, with the same lived-in feeling, but without the many memory items. Despite my newfound fascination for kitchen areas I just couldn't keep glancing at the man in front of me, his face somehow drawing me in. I realized that I had come to rely on his face to tell me the small things I wanted to know, because it didn't lie but was always completely honest. He really did look tired, and I wondered if he had been up all night, since the house only had two rooms and two beds, or if he had gone home.

"Did you go home to sleep last night?" I asked him, before taking a small sip of the strong coffee Gabriella had poured and given me.

"No..." he answered, stretching his back and neck "I slept in the car..."

"He didn't want to leave us poor women out here all alone," Gabriella added with a little bit of bite in her tone "and he put his stubborn face on, so I knew there was no way to talk him out of it!"

The small giggle that bubbled up at the thought of that particular facial expression, that I knew so well, was stopped by the realization that Sean felt we needed protection, and that meant we weren't as safe as I had felt just minutes ago. I sighed, surprised that I had actually been able to suppress the bad thoughts for a short while even though I knew that no one would be safe until my husband was caught. I looked down at my hands, sighed again and took another sip of coffee.

Movements on the other side of the table made me look up to follow Sean's hands as he quickly assembled a sandwich. I smiled as I watched him dig deep holes in the previously flat surface of the butter, and thought about Edward and his short list of bad habits. It seemed I had found one more thing they had in common, in addition to the heart-shaped birthmark. I wondered if Sean had the habit of singing in the shower too, but that thought led me to distinctly kitchen-inappropriate thoughts about birthmarks on butts in showers, and I forced myself to start making a sandwich, hoping that busy hands would mean that my mind became a little less... preoccupied.

I took a bite of my sandwich and turned to face the window, admiring the view of the small, glittering lake, calm beneath the clear blue sky. I understood why Gabriella loved this place, with a small forest beyond the house, a simple garden in front of it and just a few hundred steps below it, the small lake. Size-wise it wasn't much, but the view and the feel of the place made it so infinitely precious. I sighed, let my head rest on my left hand and kept looking out the window. I really didn't need all that much in my life, I thought; a small house, a garden, a kitchen full of memories and someone that sang in the shower and didn't feel the need to hurt me would be more than enough.

"Please try to eat," Sean said, his words hurried "you need to stop worrying about other people and start taking care of yourself."

I realized I was still holding the half-eaten sandwich and quickly finished it off. Before I could turn back to my dreams of a happier future, he handed over another sandwich, nodding towards me and my hand. I looked at him, surprised and a little bit annoyed. What was it about him that kept making me feel edgy, instantly angry or annoyed?

"Please stop trying to 'handle' me!" I answered, before I could stop my angry words.

"I'm not... Well, I'm not trying to make you do anything you don't want to do... but you..." Sean said, his words tuning out as Gabriella started laughing.

"What he's trying to say is that he's worried about you," Gabriella said "and he wants to make sure you're ok. You don't have to eat that sandwich, even though he did make it with his own two hands..."

Gabriella put on a sad puppy face with big eyes and pouty, slightly trembling lips; her wickedly laughing eyes betraying the pleading look she gave me.

"You're not really helping..." Sean muttered and sent angry looks his aunt's way.

Of course I knew he was just trying to be kind, but it seemed my temper was jumping all over the place all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry," I answered "I didn't mean to snap at you, I just..."

"... don't like being 'handled', right... got it..." Sean said, folding his hands in front of him and sighing softly "it's just... I don't want you hurt, or hungry, or sad... anymore... you know? And I thought... helping you..."

I looked at his face and saw sincerity written on it. It seemed he only wanted to make sure I was ok, but I wasn't used to people doing kind things to someone they didn't know very well, unless they could somehow benefit from it themselves. But that didn't really explain the anger, did it? Perhaps it was the fact that he was kind and charming, in a cute and quiet sort of way, in addition to being extremely good-looking? I had after all fallen in the prince charming trap once before, hadn't I?

"Aren't you heading off to work?" Gabriella asked Sean with glittering eyes "Because I think you've dug yourself sufficiently far down that particular hole, don't you? I wanted to know if I should go get a ladder so you could climb out and get going?"

Sean stood up and walked out of the house muttering something about a law against relatives with smart mouths, that made me smile, if only for a short moment. It seemed that Gabriella and Elena had that particular habit in common, teasing poor Sean.

Gabriella poured us both some more coffee and sat down in front of me as we heard a car start and drive away. She looked out the window with a smile on her face that made me think that the house was her "happy place", a very live and real version of the concept I'd been having difficulties even imagining. We sat there sipping coffee in silent companionship for a long while, and I thought about the way silence could feel so different depending on the company you kept. With Gabriella I felt happy, warm and safe. And cared for. And loved.

Gabriella turned her dark eyes back to me and looked at me for a long while, her facial expressions coming and going, from anger, to sadness, to happiness and then back to sadness again. It seemed to me that she was stuck in memories of some sort and I sipped my coffee and let her process what needed to be processed, thinking that she would speak when she felt it was time to do so. I didn't have to wait for more than a few minutes before she straightened up and took a deep breath.

"Sean is the son of my sister Isabella," she said, her voice low and sad "and I know I told you about her, that she was the reason I wanted to help you?"

I nodded and folded my hands on the table, both wanting to hear the story she seemed intent on telling and dreading it, because I wasn't sure I could stand to hear the story if it reminded me of my own, or if I could handle her sadness as she told it.

"Isabella actually was my big sister, a bright and beautiful woman destined for great things, or so it seemed when I was just a clumsy, spotty pre-teen. Her life always seemed so perfect, with good grades, good friends, and her always perfect looks. And since we had a good eight years between us, we didn't grow as close as we could have. And of course I was envious, who wouldn't have been, being stuck with a too perfect sister; I guess there were even times when I hated her a little as she patted my head and said something about my looks with pity in her voice. So we grew up and grew apart slightly more and more for every year that passed. And the final blow to our sisterhood came when the prettiest girl went and met the handsomest man, the way all fairytale's are supposed to end, but with the addition of me falling not so secretly in love with "her intended", their perfect wedding almost breaking my youthful heart in two."

She took a short break and looked out the window again, probably thinking back or perhaps collecting her thoughts and bracing herself against the storm of feelings I could see running across her face. As an only child I would never know what it felt like to lose your sister, and in her case she had done so twice - first by growing apart, then at her sister's unfortunate, premature death.

"It wasn't long before she was pregnant, and when I met her from time to time when she was carrying Sean she looked more radiant than ever. Of course it didn't take me more than a few weeks to get over my infatuation with her husband, so we could all meet in relative calm for the odd family dinner. We still didn't talk to each other as sisters though, only as a grown woman to a young girl with no real heart-to-hearts about what her life was like, and I shared just as little. But as far as I could tell, that first year as newlyweds was perfectly fine."

Another short break had me thinking about my first year as a newlywed and I fought the sick feelings that always tried to drown me when I walked down that path in memory land. Luckily Gabriella continued her story just a few breaths later.

"As the years passed we met even less than we had before, and it seemed that the little family didn't need either relatives or friends, because there were no more family dinners and no more socializing with close friends. I didn't think that it was such a strange thing then; I thought it was just the way it was once you had children. I remember that my mother was worried about something, but she didn't share those worries with me, and since I was a teenager with raging hormones by that time, I suppose I had problems of my own. I met my sister by accident in the store a couple of times, and noted that having children seemed to have a bad effect both on your looks and your nerves, because I could tell she didn't even brush her hair anymore, and she jumped and screamed when I tapped her on the shoulder to say hi."

She laughed bitterly and continued.

"And yes, it's kind of usual to let yourself go a little once you get children, there are page upon page written on that particular subject, but I should have noticed her scared eyes and the way she was frightened of a simple touch. I should have seen her pale tiredness, the way she kept losing weight, and that she started wearing long-sleeved, turtleneck t-shirts in the middle of summer. There were so many small signs pointing in a direction I never even had a thought of looking in."

"She didn't want anyone to see, she didn't want anyone to know..." I whispered, blinking back tears.

"No, you're probably right about that," she whispered back "but I so wish that I had seen... that someone had seen the signs, and tried to help her. In fact, I think there must have been people – like my mom – who suspected that something was more than wrong, and perhaps they did ask questions and perhaps they did try to help, but failed. And Isabella kept living what must have been a miserable life for thirteen years, until she fell down the stairs – and yes it was an accident – broke her neck and then... she was just... gone."

She sighed and dabbed her eyes with a small piece of paper.

"And that could have been the end of the story, if it wasn't for the then thirteen-year-old Sean. You see, for every year that passed with me entirely unaware of what was going on in that small family, another year of complete awareness passed for Sean. He lived and breathed the evil deeds of his father and the pain of his mother year after year. He was taught lessons about human nature that no kid should ever have to learn. He was taught to run, to hide and to keep silent, because if you couldn't be found you wouldn't be hurt. He was afraid, then as he grew older he became angry and frustrated."

Tears were streaming down my face, and I thanked my lucky star for my barren state and inability to give birth. The thought of bringing a child to life in the world I had been living in turned my stomach, and my breaths became fast and shallow as panic gripped me. I closed my eyes and concentrated on taking deep, slow breaths to stave off the attack, and when I felt calm enough I looked up at Gabriella, who was pressing two paper tissues to her eyes and kept swallowing, possibly to keep from crying. She continued to tell me her story, her voice thick from the tears she was fighting.

"If that boy had been forced to stay with his father after the death of his mother, then his story probably would have ended just as badly as hers. And I still think that what he did at his mother's funeral was one of the most courageous things I've seen, even though he still beats himself up for not doing it much sooner. What he did was to walk up to the most powerful grown-up he could think of, which happened to be his uncle, to tell him about his father and the way he had treated his wife and son. I'm so glad that Edward listened right there and then, and I'm always going to be grateful that he fought so hard to get Sean out of that house."

I nodded, thinking that the Edward I knew would have fought hard indeed to protect his nephew. I thought about what I knew about the family, and it suddenly hit me that Sean had told me he'd been living with his aunt, not his uncle. If the uncle had made sure that Sean had gotten away from his father, wouldn't it then have been natural for him to live with his uncle instead?

"Sean told me he'd been brought up by you, not by Edward?" I hesitantly asked.

"Well, you've met Edward and you know what a kind man he is," Gabriella answered "and once he'd been able to get Sean away from his father, he sat Sean down and gave him two options, either he could come live with him and his wife, or he could go live with me and my then four-year-old daughter; no matter what choice Sean made Edward promised he would make sure he was taken care of. I still don't know what made Sean chose to come live with me, but perhaps he felt safer in a household with only women, or perhaps he saw the need to come to our rescue. Whatever it was I have never once been sorry that I took him in. I'm not saying it was easy to take on a teenage boy, especially since Sean carried a lot of frustration and guilt after his mother death, but with the help of Edward and his wife we managed to see him through the first few tough months."

She seemed to pull herself together, and even managed a small smile.

"I just wanted you to know that there are very good reasons why Sean is the way he is, angry but kind, and above all protective, sometimes to an annoying degree. He carries the world on his shoulders, that boy, and he can't stand seeing anyone being mistreated in any way. He also has a tendency to become too serious sometimes, which is probably why I keep teasing him. I love him deeply and I'm so grateful that he's come out of his ordeal with his heart intact."

I felt deeply ashamed of the way I had snapped at him and the way I kept going from annoyed to angry when I spoke to him. If there was a way to unsay some of the things I had said, I would have gladly payed a royal sum for that possibility.

"I'm not going to yell at him again," I whispered "I promise!"

"Don't make any promises you can't keep," Gabriella answered with a smile "just keep in mind that he's not as bad as he sometimes seems."

I nodded, silently promising myself to stay calm and be friendly when he was around. That shouldn't be too hard, should it?

I helped Gabriella clean up and do the dishes, realizing that it had been years since I had last helped out in the kitchen. I remembered when my father and I had spent the evenings together, chatting and cleaning up after dinner. It was a carefree and uncomplicated time in a home where love and respect were natural components, something I had naively assumed was the very foundation in every family.

My thoughts were yet again interrupted, this time by the shrill signal of Gabriella's phone. I shamelessly listened in on her conversation; it seemed that someone – I guessed it was Sean – was coming back because someone else – a woman – was coming over to talk to us. There was also something about the woman knowing too much, which made me think that they were probably talking about Mary. When Gabriella ended the phone call she confirmed my suspicions.