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ChapterFive
Alina
It was unbelievable I hadn’t lasted more than twenty-four hours in this godforsaken town before running into him.
I hadn’t decided whether I was more surprised he was still here or how hearing his voice alone ignited a quiescent spark inside me I had thought long since burned out.
Over a decade had passed since I’d felt the touch of his fingertips or inhaled the scent of his earthy cologne. Yet, I was still angry with my deceitful body for its lack of resilience toward the man.
I made myself a sandwich, cutting it evenly and placing it on a plate I’d found in the kitchen cupboard, carrying it from room to room as I noted the necessary changes. Some were more dire than others—the rotting floorboards and cracked plaster more so than peeling wallpaper and yellowing paint—but it would all need to be replaced. I also needed a new mattress, especially if I hoped for a decent night’s sleep in this house ever again.
The numbers of how much it would cost rolled through my head like the reels on a slot machine.
I opened windows as I moved through the house. It was stale and musky and in desperate need to breathe. My heart ached a little with each window I opened, as if a part of my mother’s spirit was freed by opening them. But I reasoned that keeping the house locked up forever would be more harmful.
With each entry and exit of a room, the list grew longer, but my determination held firm. This house would be restored to how I remembered it as a child, come hell or high water, and there was no way I would shy away from the challenge. I owed it to my mother to have the last memory of this house as she saw it, away from the bitterness and lies, minus the sadness and tears and filled with the light she held within and her spirit that could outshine all the stars in the night sky.
* * *
A shift in the air by late afternoon promised a potential storm. There was a dangerous and willful beauty in thunderstorms.
My mother and I used to love to sit together on the swing under the veranda and watch as the clouds rolled in, our hands linked. It didn’t feel the same now. My feet could reach the timber boards where they once hadn’t. The same boards had aged as much as me since the last time we’d sat side by side on the swing.
An odd sense of loneliness enveloped me, my life evolving into something I had only ever dreamed about as a little girl.
There was no comfort to take in my life as it was now. Even when I thought of my life and all I had achieved, I still had a hollow sense of isolation from the outside world, like a passenger watching as the world rotated and existed around me.
The mirage of success failed to keep me warm at night.
It failed to comfort and soothe me.
It failed to make me happy.
It wasn’t until the dust swirled at the edge of the clearing I realized there was a car heading toward me, the sound of the tires on the gravel drive almost muted on the approach. My eyes narrowed as the intruder waited for the dust to settle before climbing from the car.
Callum McArthur.
With a confident swagger, he climbed the stairs, stopping to lean on the post before reaching the top, a lazy smile falling across his lips.
I waited for him to speak. His coming here was his own doing, so he could damn well explain his unwelcome presence.
Instead of him volunteering an explanation, it was a stand-off between us, our gazes locked. I took him in, all of him—the dark denim jeans over his boots, the unbuttoned checked shirt, sleeves rolled up, over a white tank top—all wrapping the man he’d grown into. For the first time since he’d imposed himself on me all those years ago, he didn’t have a thing to say.
Scoffing, I uncrossed my ankles and stood, abandoning him on the front steps as I went back inside, leaving the springs and the soft banging of the timber screen door against the frame the only sound between us.
With my heart drumming rhythmically in my chest and my ego too proud to allow the curiosity of his visit to motivate me, I headed into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table while I did my best to ignore his presence. I detested being on edge because of him and resented him for making me feel this way. In my own home, no less.
In the silence, my senses were heightened, my ears straining to hear any movement outside from Callum.
The springs of the door creaked before it kissed the timber again. My breath caught, waiting for the footsteps to fall and his figure to appear in the doorway. Instead, the sound of an engine and tires on gravel as the car drove away filled the air.
Resting my hand over my heart, I felt the beats through the fabric of my shirt. The tension in my neck eased, but it seemed I had only prolonged the inevitable. Callum may have been easily disregarded, but I had a feeling I wouldn’t escape so easily next time.
* * *
The thunder clapped, rolled, and charged, causing the old house to whine under protest. I had lain awake, staring at the ceiling, counting the seconds between the claps and flashes to occupy my mind while waiting for the storm to pass.
The power had failed shortly before the night had cloaked the entire house in darkness, leaving me to stumble around in search of candles by the light of my smartphone. The soft glow cast ominous shadows on the bedroom walls as the storm raged outside.
