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“All their lives?” he frowns at me, I can almost see his mind working, “She... The student…You don’t think...?”
I nod silently, answering his question. He remembers, I think in wonder, he remembers our first real conversation when I told him about my mother. It seems like ages ago, but he didn’t forget, surely that means something.
“Are you sure?” He looks from me to the painting and back again.
“Yes,” I smile sadly. “She was pregnant, and he was dead. That’s why she left school, came home, and had me.”
“And then she died.” He looks sad. “I’m sorry Sophie.”
“It doesn’t matter now.” I say. I look up into his face, searching his eyes, “David, I know that love can be destructive. I know it can hurt, and God knows I’ve been a victim, I grew up a victim of what love can cause when it’s wrong, but I’m not ready to never be in love again, to never be loved again. Because without love, life doesn’t mean as much as it should.” I pause. “You think that because you’ve been hurt by someone you loved, you shouldn’t love anyone ever again.”
“Sophie,” David interrupts, “You’re wrong, if you think I can’t…won’t love you because of my childhood, because of my mother and stepfather,” he breathes, “Well you’re wrong.”
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My breath hitches in my throat. Then why is it? I wonder, am I just unworthy then, unlovable in some way that I don’t know. Am I good only for sex?
“You’re wrong, Sophie,” he continues emphatically, his eyes intense, “Because I love you.”
I feel my breath leave my chest.
His eyes are searching mine, and when he speaks, there’s a desperate edge to his voice. “I think may have loved you from the first time I saw you.”
There is a lump in my throat. This is not the same as his outburst in Bellevue, only a few days ago. He is in control of himself, and he’s telling me that he loves me.
“I love you, Sophie.” He says again.
I close my eyes as his words wash over me, wanting so much to believe him. “Do you mean that?” I ask, “Or are you only saying it because you think it’s what I want to hear?”
“No, I mean every word.” He frowns, shaking his head. “I’ve spent my life avoiding close relationships. I think Steve may have been the closest person to me, before you. But everything I thought I was changed when I met you.” He moves forward and takes my hands in his, “That day you left, I would have lain at your feet and begged you to stay, even then I knew I didn’t want to … I knew I couldn’t live without you.” He sighs, his eyes imploring me to believe him. “But I was afraid, jealous, confused…” he shakes his head. “It’s been hell since you left Sophie. Nothing is the same.”
I want to cry. “But this morning…”
“About that…” he turns to look at the painting, and when he looks back at me he has a strange smile on his face. “This morning I went to get you something.”
I search his face. “What?”
I watch, stupefied, as he gets down on one knee. “I love you, Sophie Bennett – Preston,” He says, producing a ring from his pocket, “and if you give me another chance, I promise to do it right this time, to spend the rest of my life proving just how much I love you.”
I want to scream, to let out the incredible rush of joy in my heart. I can’t breathe. I’m crying, and I’m just so happy.
“Oh, David!” I say, wrapping my arms around him as tears start to fall down my face. “I love you so much.”
He gets up, lifting me with him. “So you’ll come home?” he asks, his face relaxing into a relieved smile.
I laugh happily and proceed to cover his face with kisses. “Nothing can keep me away.”
Epilogue
I’M SCARED.
There’s a storm, and it sounds really bad. I pull my blankie closer and try not to hear the scary noise outside. Mommy says it’s just the wind whistling, but I know it’s ghosts screaming, bad ghosts who haven’t gone to heaven like my Dad.
I miss my Dad.
I want to cry, but I try my best not to, Henry, my new step-father, says only weak little boys cry. The night I woke up and ran around the big house looking for my Dad, he called me a sissy.
And mommy didn’t say anything.
