Chapter 23 #2
He ran a hand through his hair, then pulled me into his arms. “I’m sorry. I am happy. I really am, Zellie. It’s just…”
I caught the flicker of fear in his eyes. “It’s just what?”
He cupped my face in his hands. “I love you, Zellie. I love you so much. There are things I want to tell you…things you need to know. I just…I don’t want to lose you.”
I shook my head. “Lose me? What are you talking about? Whit, I’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure Kitty thought that, too.”
I pulled him down to me and kissed him, then stood on my toes to wrap my arms around his neck. “You’ll never lose me, Whit,” I promised, hugging him tightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
What Whit’s reaction to our news lacked in exuberance was made up for by the others at Dawes House.
Henry was overjoyed and talked a mile a minute, planning all kinds of adventures for him and his new sibling, finally determining that they would either be astronauts or pirates, but only after they were in at least third grade.
There were hugs all around and lots of congratulations from the Dawes House residents—Ms. Netty was positively giddy, instantly looking a decade younger in her excitement. I could see a hint of the young woman she’d once been, the young woman in my dream.
“Well done,” Ms. Pearlie said, taking Whit’s face in her hands and beaming with pride. She patted his cheek. “Well done.”
“Guess you took my advice,” Merilee said with a sly wink. She then shared a meaningful look with Chase, some message I didn’t understand clearly passing between them in a single glance.
That night, I ran my fingers through Whit’s hair as he lay with his head on my lap. “What is it you wanted to tell me?”
He took my hand and pressed a kiss to my palm. “It’ll keep until morning.”
I don’t know how long we’d been asleep when I jerked awake, every sense on alert. At first, I didn’t know what my subconscious had picked up on, but then I heard it—a strange scratching sound coming from Henry’s room.
“I hear it too.”
I started at the sound of Whit’s voice but was glad he was with me when I went to check on Henry. A jolt of panic stabbed me in the chest, causing my heart to seize painfully when I entered Henry’s room and saw his bed was empty.
I nearly called out to him but then saw a thin sliver of light seeping out from below his closet door. I heaved a sigh of relief and pulled the closet door open to see Henry sitting at the desk, scribbling furiously.
“Henry?” I said softly. “What are you doing, baby? You shouldn’t be up. You have school tomorrow.”
“I’m drawing you and Daddy a picture,” he said in a strange monotone, not looking up from his drawing.
“That’s awesome,” Whit replied, slipping by me into the closet to crouch down next to Henry. “But you need your sleep, buddy.” He gently took the crayon from Henry’s fingers and set it aside then lifted him into his arms. “Come on. Let’s get you back to bed.”
As Whit tucked Henry back into his bed, I picked up his picture from the little desk, my blood turning to ice water in my veins when I saw what he had drawn.
There were three stick figures—a dark-haired man, a brown-haired pregnant woman with red scribbles across her belly, and a little boy with dark curly hair lying on the ground at the mother’s feet, a puddle of blood beside him.
My hand went to my mouth as I raced to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet.
“Zellie!” Whit cried, rushing in to steady me as my stomach heaved again. “I’ve got you, baby. It’s okay.”
I shook my head, a single sob escaping before I could stop it. “It’s not okay, Whit. His drawing…”
My stomach heaved again.
“I’ve got you,” he said, gently rubbing my back with one hand, holding my hair for me. And when I was able to breathe through the nausea and sit on the floor, he grabbed a washcloth and ran it under the faucet before sitting down on the floor beside me.
I leaned against him while he held the cool cloth to my forehead.
When my stomach finally settled, I let him help me to my feet. “Come with me,” I croaked out. “I need to you to see what Henry drew. I need you to understand how serious this is.”
His face was solemn, concerned, as he nodded. “Okay.”
I led him back into Henry’s room and picked up the paper where I’d dropped it in my haste.
“What the fuck?” Whit breathed. “I thought you said this was over…”
I glanced at where Henry was sleeping peacefully and motioned for Whit to follow me.
“I thought it was,” I told him when we were in the living room.
“I don’t know where this is coming from.
But it scares the shit out of me, Whit! Henry…
he sometimes sees things…visions. Just like me. Just like my mother, I think.”
“And you think this—” he waved the paper for emphasis “—is a vision?”
“I don’t know,” I told him sincerely. “It could just be a nightmare. But I can’t take it anymore, Whit. I thought it would be fine. It had been so quiet for a while. But we can’t stay here. Please!”
“What about Henry’s school?” he asked. “You said you didn’t want to disrupt his routine.”
I groaned, frustrated—mostly at myself for not leaving sooner when Whit had first offered, for trusting the lull in activity, for letting myself become too comfortable at Dawes House.
“Then we can go live in a hotel for a couple of weeks while we find another place nearby. Or offer to drive him every day. Or something. I don’t know, Whit! ”
Whit gave a curt nod, his jaw set. “Okay. I’ll make arrangements first thing in the morning and then we’ll figure out what we want to do after that. The most important thing is that you and Henry and the baby are safe. That’s all I want, Zellie. I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep you safe.”
The moment the promise left his lips, an entire row of books flew off the bookshelf as if someone had swept them off in a rage. I screeched and hopped out of the way as they thudded to the floor at my feet.
“Zellie!” Whit cried, sweeping me behind him in one swift motion and putting himself between the shelf and me.
I sent a frightened glance his way, but a blur of movement out of the corner of my eye snapped my attention in that direction in time to see the dagger June had given to Henry flying toward me.
I gasped as the dagger suddenly stopped mere inches from my face.
It took me a moment to realize the reason.
Whit had somehow intercepted it, caught it with his bare hand.
Droplets of blood trailed down the heel of his palm and dripped onto the floor.
When I stared at him, shocked, he cursed under his breath and snatched up the cloth the dagger had been wrapped in, hastily folding it around the weapon.
“Enough!” he roared at our unseen assailant, fury twisting his features into someone I barely recognized. “That is enough! She already knows!”
“Not everything.”
I gasped at the harsh whisper near my ear and spun toward the sound but saw no one there. I turned my wary gaze back to Whit. “What does she mean? ‘Not everything?’”
His brows twitched together. “What? Who?”
I tried to swallow, but my mouth was suddenly too dry. “It might be Alice. Or Susanna maybe. Or Eliza. Or the woman from the wall. Hell, I don’t know! But she just told me I don’t know everything. What don’t I know, Whit?”
He stared at me as if weighing his words, sorrow and…defeat?…in his eyes. He reached out to me. “Zellie—”
I reflexively shrank back from him. The anguish that crossed his features gutted me.
“Whit, you said you had things you wanted to tell me,” I reminded him, my throat tight with tears, fearing for the destruction of my perfect dream. “What did you mean?”
“Zellie, baby,” he said gently, “could we just go back to bed? Let’s talk more in the morning.”
“No,” I said, not about to let him off the hook. “Don’t do that, Whit. You can’t blow me off after what just happened. Please, just be honest with me.”
“Okay,” he agreed, so softly I almost didn’t hear him. He cleared his throat, his eyes pleading for understanding. “Whoever she is, she’s right. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”
My heart sank. My voice was barely above a whisper when I asked, “About what?”
He hesitated then finally said, “Alice.”
I blinked, hoping I hadn’t heard him right.
“You’re not the first one to see her,” he continued.
“The previous tenant… She had experiences as well. Not like what you’ve had.
She wasn’t sensitive that I’m aware of. But there were plenty of things that happened that scared her.
That’s why she left so abruptly and didn’t take anything with her expect a few things she could pack in a suitcase. ”
“How could you keep this from me?” I demanded, my voice shaking, fear of what else he wasn’t telling squeezing my lungs, making it difficult to breathe. “How, Whit? Knowing what I’ve been going through?”
“I only knew about David. You didn’t tell me about the others until our first night together at the beach house,” he countered. “I had no idea what you’d been going through. David is just a little boy, just lonely. I was hoping that Alice and the rest would leave you alone.”
I gaped at him. “The rest?”
Too angry to talk to him about this anymore, I strode passed him, jerking my arm away as he tried to reach for me.
“Zellie, please,” he called, his voice raw. “Let me explain everything. I have so much I’ve wanted to tell you, things you need to know.”
I threw my hands up, as if trying to block the sound of his words from reaching me as he followed me to our bedroom. “I don’t want to talk to you right now,” I told him. “I’m too pissed.”
I expected him to enter our bedroom, but he just stood in the doorway, both hands braced on the doorframe, head hanging down.
“You don’t have to talk to me,” he told me as I climbed into bed and rolled over, my back to him.
“You have every right to be furious with me. I should’ve told you so much before now.
But, no matter what, just know how much I love you, Zellie.
How much I love Henry. You are my family. The only family that matters.”
I frowned at his words, finding them curious, but I was too hurt to ask him what he meant by that. When he didn’t join me in bed after a few minutes, I rolled over to face him, but he was no longer in the doorway.
My curiosity overriding my anger, I quietly got out of bed and went to look for him.
When I didn’t see him sitting in the living room on the edge of the couch in his typical withdrawn, closed off posture when he was upset, I checked the kitchen, the bathroom.
I was about to go check the other apartment, but then I heard his quiet words coming from Henry’s room.
I peered into the room from the doorway to see Whit sitting on Henry’s bed, arms on his knees, forehead resting on his clasped hands as if in prayer. Then his head snapped up as if he’d suddenly sensed my presence.
His eyes seemed to flash briefly—a trick of the light from the hallway behind me, no doubt, but disconcerting for a moment before his expression changed, became questioning. The look in his eyes was so repentant, so full of regret and sorrow, that it broke my heart.
Without a word, I held out my hand. After only the briefest hesitation, he rose and came to me. I pulled him with me out of Henry’s room, shutting the door behind us before leading him to our bedroom. There, I placed his hand on my back and stepped closer as his arm tightened around me.
I wrapped my arms round his neck and held onto him as if holding the world together in that one embrace.
His breath brushed against my neck when he sighed, his relief palpable.
I shuddered at the warmth, suddenly needing him urgently, desperately.
He must’ve felt it too. He pulled back just enough to capture my mouth in a savage kiss, fingers from one hand tangling in my hair, the other hand clutching the material of my nightshirt in his fist.
I gasped when he broke away and peered down at me, his eyes questioning.
In answer, I slid my hand down between us and caressed him.
He squeezed his eyes shut with a groan. Then his mouth was ravaging mine again as he walked me backward to our bed, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside, taking my breast into his mouth, his tongue teasing, relentless, until desire swamped all rational thought.
He yanked the comforter out of the way, and when I fell back onto the bed, he dragged my hips to the edge, plunging deep, each thrust hard, powerful, rocking me, claiming me.
I dug my nails into his arms, biting back the release building inside me, until I couldn’t any longer and cried out, arching off the bed.
When I collapsed back onto the mattress, his pace quickened until his muscles tightened, the veins in his neck visible with the strength of his release.
We lay together afterward, still joined, panting until our breaths slowed.
And then he lifted his head and looked down at me, his love so clear, so fierce, tears stung my eyes.
But he gently kissed them away, kissed my lips, the salt from my own tears still on his.
And then his mouth and fingertips skimmed my skin, exploring, caressing with the same care and tenderness he had shown our first night together.
And this time when he made love to me, it was so gentle I almost missed the roughness of before.
Because unlike the first time we were together, that beautiful, perfect night at his beach house, this felt like an end instead of a beginning.