The Gift Ch. 01-05

In response, she only nodded, as if too weak to talk. Chris walked across the grass, stopping in front of her. Luciana shifted slightly, making room for him on the step.

"I thought you'd be gone by now," he said, sitting next to her.

"I tried," she finally spoke, her voice almost a whisper. "But I'm afraid."

Chris looked away and sighed, knowing the meaning of those words. When he looked back at her, she was picking up more acorns from the ground.

"You can't hide forever," he said quietly. "You have to return to your life at some point."

"I know." She briefly glanced at him, only to look away when their eyes met. "I'm sorry if I've been rude the last few days. It wasn't intentional."

"I understand," he nodded. "You don't have to apologize for anything. I have no idea what you are going through. I have only experienced it from the other side."

"As a vet?" she asked.

"Yes."

"You don't have pets?"

"No."

She looked surprised. "A vet without any pet? That's strange."

Chris let out a little laugh. "I'm never home long enough," he explained. "I hate the idea of pets being alone all day." He looked at her and smiled. "I grew up with pets, and I'm surrounded by animals always. I've never missed having a pet."

"Would you ever like to have one?"

"I don't know. Maybe when I'm retired."

Luciana nodded, shifting her attention to the acorn in her hand. Her hair was long, reaching her waist, and the ends almost brushed against the steps where she sat. Chris was tempted to tuck it behind her ear when it kept falling over her face, but like the last few days, he resisted the urge.

"You haven't been eating, have you?" he asked after a while. "You look like you've lost weight."

"You sound like my brother," she retorted.

"And... are we right?" he cocked an eyebrow.

She shrugged, dropping the acorn on the grass. "I'm never hungry," she said.

"Your blood pressure was low," he pointed out. "You need calories."

"I don't feel like eating."

"Forgive me for saying this, but you have the classic signs of depression," he said, leaning behind and resting his elbows on the porch. "Would you like to see a doctor?"

"Doctor?"

"Yes. A mental health professional."

"I'm not going crazy," she protested. Chris smiled at her, even though she didn't see it.

"I didn't mean that," he reasoned. "But sometimes moving on from a loss is easier if you have help."

"I've been through worse."

Despite himself, Chris frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"You don't have to know," she suddenly snapped but was quick to soften. "I'm sorry."

"We don't have to talk about it," Chris nodded. "What do you do?"

"I'm an interior designer," she said. "I work on outdoor design too."

Chris glanced behind him, at Elijah's house. "Oh," he said. "Now I know why your brother has such a lovely house."

"I didn't work on this one," she shrugged. "But yes, it is a nice house."

"So do you have an office?" he asked.

She nodded. "It's part of my house."

"That's impressive." He felt good when he sensed her relax slightly. "I don't know if it's of interest to you but I come from a family of creative people. I may not be much into it, but my parents and brother are more artistically inclined than I am. My parents designed and built their own house in the countryside."

"Your parents?"

"Yes. My father is the children's author Alexander Benson."

Luciana's eyes widened. "You are Alexander Benson's son?" she exclaimed. "I have all his books. I used to read them to Cleo."

"Did she like them?"

"She always fell asleep to them," she replied, her voice trailing off. Chris realized she was thinking about Cleo. The end had come soon. Despite her knowing that she wouldn't live anymore, Chris knew Luciana had still hoped for a miracle. No one brought their pet to a hospital only to go back empty-handed. But she would never know that being unable to save her cat pained him as much as losing her pained Luciana.

"Isn't your father American?" she asked after a moment. "Why do you have that weird accent?"

He chuckled. "My mother's British," he said. "She's lived in the US for some 40 years but never lost her accent. For some reason, we held on to her accent more than our father's."

"He writes in very proper, literary English, though."

"Yes. He wants children to learn good language."

"Did he ever have long hair like yours?"

The question made Chris chuckle more. Luciana stared at his face, unfazed. He had never seen her smile, let alone laugh, but something told him she would be breathtaking if she did. Her high cheekbones looked more prominent because of the sunken cheeks, there was visible evidence of tissue burn on her small but sharp nose, and she hadn't brushed her hair in days, but she was still too attractive to go unnoticed or blend in with the crowd. That neighborhood mostly consisted of elderly people and young families. And then there was Luciana, tossing acorns at squirrels while moping around in her pajamas, depressed over the loss of her beloved pet. But all he could see was the beauty behind those sad eyes.

"No," he finally said when he found his voice back. "I'm the only one who's ever had long hair in the family. Not many liked it when I started to grow it out, but now I'm told I look good."

"You do," she nodded. "I like your half up half down style."

"You like it?" he raised his eyebrows. "You don't think it's unkempt?"

"It's why I like it."

So she had noticed his hair. It was the first thing anyone noticed about him anyway, but Luciana didn't seem to be interested in the world around her. That was the first time they'd had a proper conversation, and she had praised...his hair. That wasn't a bad start.

But a start to what?

"Is that your phone?" Luciana's voice brought him back to the moment. "Your phone's ringing."

Chris reached into the pocket of his jacket and fished it out, only to find Elaine's name flashing on the screen. When he answered the call, she sounded unnerved.

"What's wrong, Elaine?" he asked, trying to speak over her rambling. "Hold on a minute, please. Calm down. What's the matter?"

What he heard next made him freeze.

"I'll be right there," he said firmly. "Tell the police I'm on my way."

He shook his head when she started to ramble again. "Don't worry, alright?" he tried to assure her. "Let me get there. I'll handle it."

When he ended the call, Luciana was staring at him. Her sad eyes had turned concerned.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, even as he rose to his feet. "You mentioned the police."

"I have to go now," he said, turning on his heels. "I'll talk to you later, okay? Please take care."

Chris rushed to his car, Luciana's gaze following him, and even as he turned the key, he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want to face what awaited him at the hospital but knew he had to. Taking a fortifying breath, he stepped on the gas.

---

(To be continued)