48. The white rose – Seven
48
THE WHITE ROSE
SEVEN
T he sun is setting by the time we make it to the cemetery.
I stretch my back as we get out of the Jeep, carefully rolling my shoulder. The wound is healing nicely, but if I don’t keep it moving, it’ll stiffen up and hurt ten times worse when I need to use it. The six-hour drive spent unmoving in the passenger seat really took its toll. I should’ve insisted on driving, but Eli was still pissy from this morning, and I wasn’t in the mood for a fight.
“You good, bro?”
He barely spoke at all on the drive.
“Fine.”
We all know what that means.
“Weapons,” I remind him, and he plucks the short blade from his pocket and then removes the Ruger from his ankle, depositing them into the glove box with my Colt Python. We don’t need a repeat of the time Julian had a meltdown and got a hold of Eli’s gun. No one was hurt, thank fuck, but I had to use the spare on the back of the Jeep to replace the tire he blew out with an errant shot.
Eli grabs the bouquet of flowers we picked up on the way and starts along the path toward his mother’s grave. I follow him past headstones in various states of disrepair, up over the short grassy hill and down to the other side, where the headstones are spaced farther apart, kept company by a handful of old willow trees.
Julian is already there, kneeling in front of the tall marble stone that marks his wife’s final resting place. His nurse is off to the side, keeping a respectful distance. Not so close as to make him feel like his every move is being shadowed, but not so far that she can’t catch up to him in a few seconds if he has an episode. He must’ve asked his security detail to wait in their vehicle.
I nod to his nurse as we pass. She’s the newest member of his staff. An older woman who reminds me of Céline with her no-nonsense demeanor and eclectic fashion sense.
“Dad?” Eli calls when he’s within hearing range, and Julian jerks in surprise, dropping the flowers he’d been carefully arranging around Florence’s headstone. His head whips round, squinting against the angry orange glare of the sun to see Eli.
He dusts his knees as he stands, and my mood sours.
He’s even thinner than the last time we saw him. Where there used to be densely corded muscle, his dress shirt sags off him like a sheet hung over a line. Just skin on bone. And even in the warm amber glow of the sunset, his pallor is off—the once golden hue that Eli inherited now a sickly shade of greige that doesn’t belong.
I’ll have a word with the nurse about that. They need to get him outside more. Make him eat.
Julian frowns as Eli steps up to the headstone next to him, and I wait, giving them a moment. We’ve done this song and dance enough that I know it’s better one at a time. Less overwhelming that way. Less chance of him spiraling back into his delusions before we’ve even had a chance to talk to him.
Julian squints and cocks his head at Eli, who raises the bouquet of flowers to hand them to his dad. “I thought Mom would like these.”
Lilies. They were always her favorite.
“Elijah,” Julian says finally, the wrinkles around his eyes softening as he recognizes his son. “You came.”
“Of course I did.”
Julian takes the lilies and bends back to his knees to pull them apart and arrange them amid the roses he brought. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”
Eli bends to help him, taking half the lilies to help complete the ring-like pattern Julian has started.
The nurse was right. He’s more lucid than usual. This is always where he wants to come when he’s not in his delusions—talking to Florence’s ghost. It worked out for us this time since we wouldn’t have been able to go to the house. Ambrose has shown no interest in Julian since he got what he wanted from him, so he’s been safe enough to stay there.
But we aren’t foolish enough to think Ambrose doesn’t at least check in on the old place to see if we’d deign to visit. The last thing we need is to lead Ambrose back there. I don’t even want to imagine how Julian might react to seeing his face again.
I move up and crouch on Julian’s opposite side, fixing one of the flowers that doesn’t seem to want to stay put.
He turns to look at me, his shifting gaze narrowing as I pluck the little Eiffel Tower trinket from my pocket and place it atop her headstone. I snatched it while we were at the Triangle d’Or in Paris. It was always her favorite place in the whole world, and it’s painted red—her favorite color.
Julian watches me suspiciously, and I offer him a grin, turning a bit to the left to tap the triple 7 tattoo on the side of my neck to help remind him.
When I turn back to face him, he’s smiling, and a laugh booms from his chest as he reaches over to pull me into a bony-armed embrace that somehow still manages to be fierce. “ Seven . It’s good to see you.”
Beyond his shoulder, Eli drops his head, and I grimace.
Julian might not remember why he’s angry with Eli, but Eli can’t forget. Atticus wasn’t the only one who left. Accepting Ambrose’s deal meant Eli did, too. For well over a year. Leaving me to hold the fucking bag when Julian’s condition started to worsen.
“How’s the colony?” he asks when he pulls back, his gaze clearer than I’ve seen it in the last few visits. “Are they producing well?”
I nod. “Yeah, all good. Hives are healthy. The flow is better than ever.”
“Maybe I could come see them soon.”
Not far off, the nurse gives a slight shake of her head, overhearing the conversation.
I put a hand on Julian’s shoulder and lie through my teeth. “Yeah. Maybe soon.”
Julian smiles tightly, hearing the truth I won’t say. But I hope he remembers why he can’t.
Eli looks at me, and from the way he’s working his jaw and the harsh lines between his brows, I know he’s thinking about bringing it up. Bringing him up. But the last time we tried to ask Julian if there was anything he could remember about Ambrose that might help us, it set him off in a bad way.
We always thought there was more he knew that could help, but since everything happened, whatever knowledge he might’ve had has been locked away. Repressed.
I shake my head at Eli. It’s not worth it.
It’ll only cause Julian more stress.
But I don’t think Eli’s thinking about that right now. He’s thinking about Ro. He’s thinking if he can just get his dad to give us something to go off of, then she won’t feel like she’s the only hope we have to put things right.
He doesn’t get that she already decided the minute Atticus asked her. I could see it in her eyes. And nothing short of Elijah telling her point blank that he doesn’t want her help will stop her. Hell, that might not even do it.
Eli’s throat bobs.
Julian follows my line of sight back to his son. “You seem different.”
Eli’s brows draw together. “What do you mean?”
Julian gives a noncommittal shrug.
“It’s probably this girl he’s been seeing,” I offer with a devious smirk, and Eli rolls his eyes.
“A girl?” Julian’s interest is piqued. Eli only had one actual girlfriend back in high school, and that didn’t last very long because he preferred to spend his weekends painting and learning the family trade, rather than taking her out.
Eli sighs. “Yeah, Dad. Her name’s Aurora. I think you’d like her.”
He looks around. “Well, where is she? Did you bring her?”
“No. Not this time. Maybe next, though, if you want.”
“You know, I was about your age when I met your mom. Forgot every woman who came before her like that.” He snaps his fingers. “She was…”
“An incredible woman,” I finish for him when he can’t seem to find the right words.
Julian nods sadly to himself, then reaches out for Eli, taking his hand. “Tell me about her. Tell me about this Aurora. What’s she like? Is she… Is she…”
Oh shit.
Julian’s shoulders twitch as he looks down at Eli’s hand in his. At the scars marring the back of his palm, making his pinkie and ring finger a little crooked. Eli tries to pull his hand back, but Julian grips it tighter, hauling him in for a better look.
“What…”
“Dad, it’s fine. Dad , just let go.”
“What…what is…”
I take Julian’s shoulders, shoving down the roiling acid in my stomach as Eli finally gets free.
“Hey, he’s fine. He’s fine .”
Julian is still looking at Eli and I see the exact moment he remembers. His shoulders go up, and he stiffens under my hands.
Fuck.
“Mr. Ashford,” the nurse says, coming to stand a little closer. “I think maybe we should be getting ba?—”
“He’s fine,” Eli snaps. “We’re fine.”
The nurse backs off, but she’s right. The damage is already done.
“Come on, Pops,” I mutter, helping him stand by the shoulders. “Let’s get you?—”
He rips from my hands, grabbing onto Eli with fists twisted into his shirt.
“ Did you get it back? ” Spit flies from Julian’s mouth at Eli and when I try to pry him off, he just turns to me instead, pulling hard on my jacket with blown pupils, looking as mad as a bag of fucking bees.
“Florence’s art—did you get it? The collection! Did you get it back? Did you… Did you …”
“ Julian ,” I struggle to keep my tone even with my chest caving in. “Hey, it’s all right. You don’t have to worry about?—”
He jerks away from me violently, and when the nurse tries to corral him, he growls at her, growing big, baring his teeth.
“Did you find him?” Julian demands again, whirling when Eli answers him.
“No, Dad,” he says calmly, when I can tell he’s anything but. “We still don’t have it back.”
“I told you,” Julian sneers, jabbing his fingers at Eli. “I told you!”
“You told us what?” I ask, stepping around him cautiously.
I give the nurse a look when I see her using a nearby gravestone as a table to ready a syringe from the items in her purse. I shake my head. We can handle this without fucking drugs.
“I told you!” Julian hollers again, his voice breaking, and I steel myself against the sound.
Like it always does, the memory of him before hits me square in the chest. Julian was always the most levelheaded of any of us. The first person you would want to go to when you needed advice. The voice of reason. The man who taught me how to crack a safe and wield a blade, shoot a gun, and tend to the hives.
When he’s like this, I don’t even recognize him, and it hurts to know that he wouldn’t even recognize himself, if the man he was before were here to bear witness.
“Oh, the Monets,” he cries, gesturing wildly, stepping on the flowers he so carefully placed around Florence’s grave only a few minutes ago. “The Picasso! We need to get to the archipelago. We have to get them back! You said you’d get them back.”
“You mean the Caravaggio? We still have that one, Dad. It’s on the wall at the house, remember?”
“No!”
He shoves Eli, and that’s when I can’t stand idle anymore. My throat thickens as I wrap my arms around Julian, holding him back, holding him steady, completely ignoring the screaming ache in my shoulder as he writhes in my grip.
“Julian, listen to me,” I hiss. “We’re trying. We never stopped trying. We’ll get it all back.”
“You said that last time! You said that last time! You said…you said…”
“Breathe with me, Julian. In ? — ”
“He took my son! He took my son !”
He starts to sag in my arms, his breaths coming harder, heavier, as if he can’t get enough of it into his lungs to bring oxygen into his troubled mind. I go to the ground with him, still holding on to him, but only so he won’t fall.
“I’m right here.” Eli kneels in front of Julian. “Look, I’m fine. He let me go.”
“ No ,” Julian moans, a sob trapped in his throat. “My son…my son never…he never came home.”
Eli’s jaw tightens, and his eyes darken. Dampen .
Julian smacks his forehead with his open palm. “Never came home.” Smack . “The bells…” Smack . “The bells and the birds.” Smack . ‘The boats and the—the boats and?—”
Eli helps me get hold of his arms, keeping them tight to his sides to stop him from hurting himself.
“No!”
We’re losing him. It’s too late now.
“Dad. Hey! Dad . It’s all right.”
When Julian looks up again, he recoils at Eli. “Who…who are you? What do you want? Let go of me! I said let go! ”
I hold tight, giving the nurse the go-ahead to give him what he needs to be at peace.
I detach myself as she does her work. I can’t watch. And I don’t relax my arms until Julian fully sags against me and I take his weight.
Eli holds in his pain as he reaches over to push Julian’s graying dark hair from his face, and flicks his red eyes to me. “Help me get him back to the car?”
We each take a shoulder, walking Julian down the path in silence as he mutters more nonsense to himself.
“Are you okay?” I ask Eli once we have Julian safely strapped into the back seat with the nurse checking his vitals.
“What do you think?”
Yeah. Stupid fucking question.
Eli sighs and pinches the space between his eyes, as if I don’t know he’s trying to covertly erase the tears that have gathered there. I pinch the Jeep keys from his pocket and flick them into my palm.
“What are you?—”
“Come on. I’ll drive.”
He’s definitely in no state to.