Chapter 31 #2
“Will you tell us the story again about when you both got stuck up a mountain, Mr. Clay?” Sunny asks eagerly as a server places down a huge stack of chicken and waffles in front of her.
I jump in my seat as Chase traces his fingers down the side of my neck, and glance sideways to see him smiling warmly at me.
“You okay?” I lean close and whisper as Mr. Clay indulges Sunny and starts to regale the story that involves them being rescued after two days by a sherpa with a donkey.
“Hold on,” he replies quietly, using his arm to slide me closer along the booth so that I’m flush against his side. My cheeks flush, and I squirm a little. “I am now.” He places a gentle kiss on my temple like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Two hours later, I’m tucking Terrence’s walking stick beside the floral wingback armchair in his apartment, watching his bushy grey eyebrows droop.
“Can we get you anything before we leave?”
He won’t admit it, but he’s tired.
“Just the photo album on the shelf there, please dear,” he says in an uncharacteristically soft voice, pointing a gnarled hand to the bookshelf in one corner.
Chase walks over to it and plucks a thick binder from the top shelf with ease, blowing off the thin film of dust that coats the top. Mr. Clay nods and crooks his hand twice to gesture at him to bring it over.
Lord Bartholemew III rubs himself through the gap in my legs, arching his back and purring, leaving ginger hairs all over my black leggings.
I lean down to scratch under his chin briefly, causing the small bell on his collar to tinkle.
Chase sets the binder down on Terrence’s lap, the width of it so large that it entirely covers the green corduroy material of his pants.
“Anything else you’d like?” I place a hand on his shoulder, stooping so that he can hear me clearly.
“Sit, sit.” He gestures to me, and then to the small matching upholstered foot stool beside his chair. “I want to show you something.”
I exchange a glance with Chase, who just shrugs and takes a seat on the two-seater sofa adjacent to Mr. Clay’s chair. He flips through the first few pages of the photo album, making a low grunting noise in the back of his throat as he pauses to look at certain photos.
I plonk myself down, resting my elbow on my knees. All of the photos are black and white, and they contain different ages of a much younger Mr. Clay and the same woman who fills the frames on his display table on the other side of the room.
“This is my Catherine,” he says fondly, pointing to a young woman who smiles prettily in a white shift dress. “My wife.”
I lean in to take a closer look, seeing long dark hair curled down her back, and light eyes leaping off the page. “She was very pretty.”
“She was.” Terrence nods, his voice taking on an extra layer of gravel.
“I can see the resemblance to Emily.” Chase uses his height to see over Mr. Clay’s shoulder.
“This is when I first met her.” He flips the page back to the front and shows us a picture of a group of young adults depicted in fading greys and whites. “You see this guy here? That was my best friend David. He and Catherine were dating.”
My eyebrows rise, and Chase lets out a low chuckle.
“You stole your best friend’s girl?” I blink at his whiskery face, the corners of his bushy moustache twitching with humor.
“Actually, no.” He flips to the next page, and it shows the same group in beachwear by a river, lying on checkered picnic blankets. “I loved her silently for fifteen years, through hers and David’s marriage, and the birth of their two children.”
I’m stunned into silence, sucked into the time portal that these photos present.
“It was only when their marriage broke down, and I could see how unhappy she was that I confessed my true feelings for her. And, well…let’s just say the feeling was mutual and we wasted a lot of time, and caused a lot of hurt that didn’t need to be had.”
“You married in the end?” Chase asks gently.
Mr. Clay grunts in confirmation, a sad smile twisting his mouth. “We had twenty wonderful, perfect years, and then we got the news that she had cancer. Ovarian—too advanced for them to do anything for it back in those days.”
The back of my throat clogs as a tear streaks down the side of his lined face, and he swipes it away with a sniff.
“Terrence, I’m so sorry,” I whisper thickly, placing my hand on his arm.
He shakes his head and astute grey eyes rise to meet mine. “I wanted to share this with you because I’ve watched the two of you grow close these past few weeks, and if there is one thing this old man can impress on you, it’s not to waste it.”
He turns his head to give Chase the same look. My cheeks burn at the unexpected spotlight on something I’m not ready to admit, to myself or anyone else.
“Don’t waste any time, my boy. My biggest regret in life is not having those extra years with her.” The two men share such a tender moment that I avert my gaze to my knees.
Heat erupts all across my body, causing perspiration to cling to my skin. It would be great if the ground would swallow me up right about now. Or perhaps if I took a running jump, I could pole-vault myself directly out of that window over there with Mr. Clay’s cane?
“Thank you for sharing that with us, Terrence,” Chase replies quietly.
“Yes!” I slap my knees and stand abruptly, itching to get the fuck out of here so I can crawl into the wall space and pretend I don’t exist. “Thank you, Mr. Clay, but I really must get going, I have to…” I trail off, patting my pockets like a mad woman and glancing around at the floor to make sure nothing fell out of them while I was sitting—just for something to do.
“Yes, right then,” I finish decisively, avoiding eye contact as I offer the two men an awkward little head nod and stride for the door. “I’ll see you both later.”