Will Be Yours Ch. 11

Beside me, Luke remained quiet while he listened to me, giving me his undivided attention. Then I heard him sigh softly, before pausing for a moment.

"Do you..." he began, his voice thick with hesitation. "Do you still love him?"

I shrugged, looking away. "I like to think that I stopped loving him the day he deserted me. When my mom turned me out, when I had a miscarriage... during my most vulnerable moments, I didn't have him beside me." My voice choked slightly as I continued to talk. "But I had carried his baby. That single thing made forgetting him a whole lot more difficult. It's like he'll be attached to me forever. I may not love him anymore but I'll always have a weakness for him."

I looked at him. "You know what I mean, right?"

He nodded, appearing to have absorbed and understood every word of mine. It was good to be able to talk to somebody that way. I did have friends who loved me and cared about me, but I couldn't talk to them so openly, because some of them didn't know my story and others couldn't relate to it. Luke and I had gone through something similar. Although we had lost the people we loved in different ways, we both had ended up with shattered hearts. And it took one shattered heart to know another.

"You know? We all make mistakes," he said, "Big mistakes, small mistakes, life-altering mistakes. But just because we mess up, doesn't mean we cannot start over. Standing there and judging yourself only makes you weaker." He looked at me. "And you judge yourself all the time."

"I do. I was educated, intelligent, sensible. How could I do such a thing? How could I be such a fool?"

"Because you're human."

"Although nobody treated me as human..."

"They didn't. But what stopped you from being kind to yourself? When Gabrielle was counselling me- she was my 64-year-old therapist- she used this very interesting analogy. I used to consider myself responsible for Diana's death, I couldn't get the thought out of my head that she had played till late and was tired and I shouldn't have listened to her when she said she'd drive. That I should've picked her up despite her protests. Gabrielle told me that by subjecting myself to those hard feelings I was bullying myself."

He smiled, recalling old thoughts. "Let me use this on you, okay?" he leaned a little closer to me. "If you see a big angry boy bullying a scared little girl, what will you do? What will be your first instinct at that moment?"

I thought for a while, finding the whole thing interesting. "Umm... I... I will walk over and protect her in whatever way I can," I said, "I will ask the boy to stop and think about what he's doing. I'll tell him that he is not allowed to hurt someone else just because he is unhappy or angry."

"Exactly. That's what we all would do, right? Then why do we bully ourselves? We don't think about it, but if we listened to our thoughts whenever we made a mistake we'd realise that we are far from protective towards our scared little inner child who is trying to do their absolute best. We are usually a mean, awful, and torturing bully."

"I never looked at it that way," I murmured, feeling the tiny hair on my neck standing erect. I had never seen the profound side of Luke before.

"Then do it from now on," he told me, "Think how you talk to yourself. Are you kind and compassionate? Are you forgiving and understanding?"

I shook my head. "Most of the time I'm not."

"Then you're a bully. And that needs to change."

As what he'd just said sunk in, a montage of my life floated past my eyes. I saw myself crying, sulking, spending days cooped inside the house. I heard myself telling that little child she's bad and vile and deserves to suffer. I found myself closing up to friends, to happiness, to new chances.

I really was a bully, who never allowed that little girl to heal. And I needed somebody else to point that out to me.

"Although I must admit I don't know how you put up with all that," Luke wondered aloud, jerking me back to the present.

"I had the shop to distract me and keep me busy," I said. "It originally belonged to a lovely old lady called Roxanne. She was looking for an assistant when I arrived in Velmont Town. When I joined, she was amazed at my knowledge of flowers. She took me under her wing, taught me a lot more. When she retired and left for the US to be with her son, I got a loan from Scott and bought the shop from her. I worked really hard to get it and I didn't have time for anything else. The shop was already popular, and in my hands, it flourished even more. I also repaid Scott, although he had protested against it." I paused. "It made getting Sam out of my head a little bit easier."

"I'm just glad he's not here," he said, looking at the banquet hall again.

"Me too," I responded. "I don't see his wife either."

"Maybe she's gone back to London."

"Good for me."

Luke chuckled softly as I wore my spectacles. Then he gave my hand a soft squeeze.

"You're doing great," he said, his face a picture of tenderness. "Any other person in your place might not have been able to move on. But you have. You didn't allow your past to dictate your present."

"Part of that is because of Scott and Carrie. They taught me how to be strong, how to move on. I wasn't alone."

"I think I also realise why you love Scott so much. He's a strong and dependable man. The kind of person you'd always wanted in your life."

"Yeah. Without Scott..." a shudder ran down my body. "I don't want to think where I'd be without him."

"He's done a lot for me too. He's been there by my side in my most difficult time ever. I've always wondered where he gets all that strength from."

"Some people are born to make life better for others."

"Yes. And some people are born to make it hell."

I knew he was talking of Sam. The anger in his voice was unmistakable. But then, if I were in his place, I'd feel the same anger towards him. Maybe more.

"Tell me about your dad," I said, "How was your childhood?"

"It was happy and fun," he smiled, stretching his legs. "We weren't rich, and raising seven kids was difficult. On many nights, our only dinner would be coke and chips." He looked at me and laughed. "You know, from the restaurant. But we had love, we had laughter. Dad has always been an easygoing man. I've never seen him angry or nervous or hyper. Mum would constantly blabber around him, and he'd be deep into a newspaper. When he wouldn't reply after a long time, mum would look at him and say, 'Are you listening?' Dad would finally look up and ask, 'Me?'"

I laughed, and he joined in. "He sounds like he's a great person to be with," I said.

"Yes. Like me."

I playfully punched his leg and laughed again. "Mom did a lot for us," I sighed. "But there's only so much a mother can do alone. I often longed for a dad when I saw my friends and their dads, how much they loved each other..."

"I understand how it is. Given how my childhood was, I feel sad for anybody who hasn't experienced even a fraction of what I had. My parents were the funnest people I've ever known. I hated going to school at a point. I hated the long bus ride every day and I was frightened of the nuns. I used to nag my dad that I don't want to go to school. So one day, he agreed and instead of sending me to school, he made me work in the small farm we had in the back of the house. I mean, it was hard work! For six to eight hours every day I had to dig the soil, plants seeds, pick the harvest, and the worst part, deal with manure and fertilizers. By the fourth day, I was begging to go back to school."

He loosened his tie, and I noticed the veins of his hands, quite prominent because of the exercising.

"Small-town life would seem boring to most kids," he continued. "But I liked it. I think city kids have distractions. They have far too many conveniences, because of which they fail to cherish the little pleasures of life. Parents are busy, kids are hooked to TV. And before you know, your childhood is gone." He paused. "We had a family event every day of the weekend. On Saturday mornings, dad would take me fishing to a lake. And though dad was the worst fisherman in the history of mankind, I found it really exciting. When I look back, I realise it was dad's way to spend time with me, by showing me things, telling me stories, teaching me songs while we waited for some fish to show up. They almost never did, but I'm thankful that we still went fishing every week."

"Did you learn riding from him?" I asked, awed by the bond he shared with his dad. It was nothing extraordinary, but to me, it seemed like the epitome of the best childhood anybody could ask for.

"Riding runs in my family," he replied. "My dad, my brothers, my uncles, they all are into horses. We took the horses out every Sunday, and went to the races whenever it was in town. We have old photos of my dad and brothers posing on horses with their trophies. I was the youngest. Lyndon almost looked like my father in many photos."

"I want to see you race."

"I'd love to take you home when you're here the next time. We have a huge stable. I got a race horse about six-seven years ago. It's such a prize. When Dave visited the stable for the first time, he couldn't believe his eyes."

"Who's Dave?" I asked. Luke smacked himself on the head.

"I can be such an idiot," he laughed. "Dave is Diana's dad. Dr Dave Nesbrit. He's a neurosurgeon. Nice man."

"You're close to them?"

He nodded. "Diana was an only child. Her parents treated me like a son. With her gone, I'm the one fulfilling the duties of both the son and the daughter. It's like having two sets of parents."

"You're lucky. Some people don't have even one."

"I know. Life has taken away Diana from me, but it has also given me a lot of other things. I never deny that."

"I wish I had a childhood like yours," I rued.

"Tell me about your life," he said with a smile. "What was your childhood like?"

"Haven't you guessed yet what it was like?"

"No, I haven't. Tell me."

I sighed, having never really talked about my childhood with anyone. There was nothing to talk about.

"It was quiet," I said. "Solitary. I was an introvert, unable to mingle with people. Outside school, my life only had flowers and books. On weekends, I'd spend hours on the lawn, either reading or talking to the flowers and plants. We went to church on Sundays. Mom would take us to parks and museums, sometimes to restaurants, on holidays. Every other week, we'd have guests over, and at other times, we'd go to visit them. Julie and I played on the lawn sometimes. She'd scream at me a lot. I'd cry, and mom would scold her. She'd sulk for a day or two. I loved mom's cooking. Roast duck was my favourite."

I sounded like an moron. But when I stopped, Luke smiled affectionately. "I sense that your mother was always independent. You got that from her. Between you and your sister, you resemble her in many ways."

Inside the banquet hall, people were probably moving over to dinner. I couldn't tell if I was hungry because I loved sitting there in the relative quietness of the garden, the soft gurgle of the water making an amazing background as we talked. I looked up at the clear sky, and after a very long time, I seemed to notice the stars again. I raised my hand, tracing figures in the sky.

"What are you doing?" Luke asked, smiling.

"The stars. I'm seeing if I remember anything."

"Don't tell me you're into astronomy?"

"No. But mom seemed to know a lot about stars and constellations. For long after we moved houses, I'd have difficulty falling asleep. Mom would carry me to the rooftop and show me stars on clear nights. I remember the names she'd say- Canes Venatici, Cassiopeia, Antinous... I was too small to even pronounce Czechoslovakia, but I loved gazing up at the blinking stars. It helped me fall asleep in her arms."

Luke followed my gaze and looked up at the sky. "Can you recognise any?"

"Yes. The obvious ones." I pointed at the roof of the hotel. "Go straight up from there and you'll see Orion's belt. Betelgeuse is on the left and Rigel is his foot."

"I can spot Orion's belt," Luke said, "But not the others."

"I can't either," I giggled. "I just know they exist there."

"Your mother had a nice way of raising you," he remarked.

"She did. She's been a good mother. I cannot complain. She sacrificed her youth, her dreams, her joys for us. I'd always wondered what it'd be like if she ever found someone else. But she never did. Once when I tried broaching the topic, she shut me with a glare."

"She was happy and content raising her daughters," Luke observed.

"Yes. And she knew better than to trust another man. She'd been cheated once, and she didn't want to go through it again. She also cared about us, and felt that a stranger wouldn't love us like his own. Men aren't that considerate."

I gathered my hands in my lap and crossed my legs. "These are my assumptions. Mom had never said anything."

"She raised you very well. And given that she brought you up all by herself, she did a great job."

"She invested a lot in me, teaching me, cooking for me. I was closer to her, and sometimes I'd feel she'd never let me go."

I looked at the sky again. "When we looked at stars, she'd tell me that they are thousands of light years away from us. So when we look at stars, we're probably looking at a time when dinosaurs were around. I'd also first learned from her that people in ancient times studied and followed stars for everything, from navigating their way to making buildings." Lost in thought, I kept staring at the sky. "I used to find it all so amazing."

"It is."

Luke's voice made me take my eyes off the sky. "I'm sorry," I said, smiling shyly. "You're probably hungry and I'm boring you."

"Not really. I don't think I can ever look at stars again without thinking about you."

I laughed a little, finally rising. Stretching my arms, I motioned at the banquet hall with my head. "Shall we go in?"

Luke stood, appearing a tad unwilling to return inside. So was I, but I also wanted to eat.

"Okay, I lied," he said suddenly.

"What do you mean?" I looked at him with wide eyes.

"About the two blondes," he smiled coyly. "I didn't meet any woman. I was only talking to a waiter."

I knew that.

I reached out and patted his arm. "I know," I smiled, "You don't even look at women anymore."

He frowned at me. "You've been listening to Scott and Carrie a lot, I see."

"Uh-huh. They know you so well."

"They do, really." He motioned me to walk with him. "They know you very well too."

I laughed, nodding gently. "You know, I'm still very surprised that you chose my favourite song even without knowing," I said as we strolled back to the banquet hall. "I thought you'd sing your favourite song."

"My favourite song isn't fit for a wedding," he said.

"What is it?"

"It's a John Denver song."

"I love John Denver. Is it Annie's Song?"

"No."

"Seasons of the Heart."

"No way."

"Then what?"

He stopped walking, and then cleared his throat and started to hum softly.

"Just to look in your eyes again,

Just to lay in your arms,

Just to be the first one always there for you...

He turned to look at me, his eyes boring into mine. I watched in amazement as he straightened himself and pulled me close to his body, so close that our heartbeats seemed one. Brushing away a few strands of hair from my face, he carried on singing, our gazes locked.

"Just to live in your laughter,

Just to sing in your heart,

Just to be every one of your dreams come true...

Emotion swelled in his voice as he lifted his hands to cup my face. His lips quivered as he sang, inducing my own tears. His mellow, buttery voice echoed in the air, his voice resonating down to my soul. It was the only thing I was aware of.

"Just to sit by your window,

Just to touch in the night,

Just to offer a prayer each day for you...

He brought his face down to mine, and I felt my heart pounding. His breath on my face, he kept singing.



Just to long for your kisses,

Just to dream of your sighs,

Just to know that I'd give my life for you..."

Without warning, preparation or hesitation, he eased his lips on to mine, capturing them in a deep, seeking kiss. Surprisingly, I felt no awkwardness or embarrassment in kissing him back. I only felt the weight of his hands on my face, as if memorising his touch. Time stopped for us. His tongue played with mine, the soft breeze hummed in my ears, and I felt the smooth fabric of his suit against my palm when I crossed my arms across his shoulders.

When Luke pulled away and looked at me, in his eyes I saw what I'd always wanted to see in a man's eyes for me.

"I think your mom is looking for you," he said, taking his hands off me. I turned around and saw that mom had ventured into the garden, searching for me in all likelihood. When she saw me in the near darkness, she hesitated for a moment, probably because I was alone with Luke. I looked at him, and he nodded with a smile.

When I went up to her, she looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know—"

"Mum, it's fine," I smiled at her. "We were just getting some air. It's too stuffy inside."

Had she seen us kissing? Oh well, I didn't mind if she had. It was my first kiss in almost four years.

"Did you want to talk?" I asked. Her eyes travelled to Luke, who had turned around and gone back to the fountain. Then she smiled at me. The mom kind of smile. The one I always knew.

"I can't explain how happy I am to have you here," she said, holding one of my hands while her other hand cupped my cheek. "When you didn't want to talk to me the times I called Scott, I feared the worst. I thought you wouldn't come. I hadn't seen you in years, and at that moment, I realised how much I missed you. You were all I ever had and I was such a fool to do what I did..."

Her voice caught up in her throat, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

"Mum, I don't want to talk about this," I said, shaking my head. "I've told you that many times."

"Yes... I'm sorry..." she sniffed back the tears and smiled. "Are you free tomorrow?"

"Not really. Luke is taking me to his sister's place. We should be there till the afternoon. I'm leaving very early on Monday."

The words made a pang of sadness rise in my belly. It hadn't occurred to me that the weekend was almost over. The realisation made me realise that I wanted more time with Luke.

"Oh." My mother's face telegraphed disappointment. "I wanted to cook for you, actually. I miss cooking for you. Julie was never fond of food, and with her married now, she'll drop in even more infrequently." She looked at me and tried to laugh. "I just want to make sure I remember how to make a duck roast."

"Luke really wants me to meet his sister and her family," I said, "I cannot dishearten him."

I held her hands, not wishing to let her down either. "I cannot make it for lunch, but if you can bring it forward to breakfast, then I can come around."

My mom's face lit up. "You want to come for breakfast?" she said, slightly breathless out of happiness. "Okay, tell me the time. I'll be-"

"Don't get worked up about this, please," I laughed, holding her by her arms. "I'll be there by eight. Will you make my favourite things? Cheese sandwiches, fried sausages, and maybe a chocolate cake. And orange juice. Will you make it?"

Her eyes filled with tears as she hugged me tight. I had wanted that hug all those years ago. I had waited so long for her to call me back and hug me again. It was four years too late. Now I didn't know if it even mattered anymore. I didn't care who judged or hated me. I didn't care if I was welcomed or turned out. Nothing about Birmingham mattered to me anymore.