16. You Need This, Avi Hawthorne
The next day, as the birds outside Avi’s window greeted the glorious dawn with song, they seemed to tweet the words “strangle me” over and over and over again. It wasn’t that they’d woken her. Avi, unable to dream, had long since given up on sleep. Rather, it was their collective, braggadocious joy that seemed to summon the huntress within. Didn’t they know what she was capable of? Had they not seen the shot that seized the life right out of their woodland friend - whom she assumed they called Bucky - not even forty-eight hours earlier? Clearly, they needed a reminder.
Oh! Who was she kidding? The same passion that had filled her dainty biceps, deltoids, and obliques with the elvish strength to shoot like Legolas had since been replaced with the exhausting self-pity of Smeagol.
When their haughty, high-pitched harmonies ceased to cease, Avi approached the window, threw open the curtains, and thought, “Behold the fowls of the air: for they pray not, neither do they seek charity, nor emulate, yet my Heavenly Father supplies them with joy in the form of romantic companionship. Am I not much better than them? If so, then why all this?”
It wasn’t quite Matthew six, nor was it precisely a prayer, but it was exactly what she was feeling, and it felt more honest and real than any previous prayer she’d ever offered. Well…all but one. Though, if her parents’ deaths had taught her anything, it was that some prayers just aren’t answered; at least not in this life. As she waded through the deafening silence of God’s response, her characteristic patient submissiveness seemed to dissipate.
“Why?!” she asked exhaustedly somewhere between a scream and a whisper. “So many people come to you like you’re some distant cosmic genie; approaching you like…like Aladdin approaching his lamp. They recite the same scripted dialogue: greeting and thanking you in haste while only slowing down to list their wishes. They go on with their day thinking nothing of you until more is wanted…or a demand goes ungranted. At which point, they abandon you…they simply stop believing. Haven’t I always approached you as a daughter approaching her father? Haven’t I always sought divine guidance and direction, rather than…ponies, money, and…things?
So many people pray like they’re leaving you a voicemail while you’re on the other line begging to get a word in. Haven’t I always asked questions that require I listen…that I know your voice…that I have a relationship with you? Even now…as I descend into this…infernal pit of loneliness wanting nothing more than him…I did not and do not ask for a miracle. I simply ask why. Yet still, you refuse to answer! Why?!”
Immediately there came a knock at her bedroom door. Startled, Avi collected herself, draped the comforter over her nightgown, and cracked the door open. She was grateful to see Gracie standing there.
“Aviva, who were you talking to?”
With a hopeless sigh, Avi replied, “No one.”
“Well…are you coming to breakfast?”
“I don’t think so. Could you just have Helena bring me some eggs when she gets a chance?”
Ignoring her request, Gracie asked, “Can I come in?”
With her sister’s nod of approval, Gracie came in, shut the door behind her, and sat down at the foot of Avi’s bed. Avi joined her.
“Sooo…?”
“So what?”
“What’s going on…what’s wrong?”
“You honestly have no idea? Come on, Gracie. I’m not in the mood for wasting time.”
“Really? From where I’m sitting, it seems like that’s the only thing you’re in the mood for.”
“No…what would be a waste of time would be going out there and getting my hopes up in him. What would be a waste of time would be pretending like he and I could or should end up together.”
“Right,” Gracie said sarcastically, “because when you lose Hawthorne Hall and are only left with hundreds of thousands of dollars…however could you manage to afford a studio apartment in the competitive real estate market of the Scottish countryside?
Avi just sat there looking away and shaking her head in frustration.
“Avi, you’re running.”
“Been talking to Corey, I see.” Avi scoffed.
“I don’t need to see through Corey’s eyes to see something so obvious.”
“Right, well I’ve already had this conversation with her, so if that’s all this is…can we just not?”
“Fine. But if you’ve already decided to spend the rest of your life wallowing in sadness, would you at least do what you can to enjoy the next couple of days? My gosh, Avi…you’re still in England! You’re still surrounded by family and friends! You’re still living out a Regency fantasy in a ridiculously beautiful mansion! Look…if you don’t want to try and make things work with Mr. MacKinnon…then tell him it’s not gonna work. Tell him…tell him you just want to be friends. At least that way you could handle being out there and actually enjoy some time with us and the others.”
Gracie was right, but Avi knew what would happen if she tried to have that conversation with him. She wasn’t sure if it’d be his eyes, grin, or silliness, but one of those three things would send her swooning into some fantastic delirium and make it impossible for her to hope for - let alone request - a platonic dynamic to a relationship that was already lacking in physical expression.
“I’ll consider it.”
“Good. And will you also consider coming to the ball tonight? Oh, come on, Avi! It’s supposed to be the highlight of the whole Hawthorne Hall experience!”
“Honestly, Gracie…probably not.”
As she stood anxious and alone against the ballroom’s paisley wallpaper, Avi nursed a glass of non-alcoholic sparkling cider as if it were somehow taking the edge off. She forced herself to hope that Mr. MacKinnon wasn’t coming, but the amount of time and effort she’d invested in applying her makeup and doing her hair betrayed such forced fiction. Unfortunately yet fortunately, he had yet to make an appearance at the Day-Eight Ball. He wasn’t the only one. Thomas and Jack were probably sneaking in some reading time while Bonnie and Kelly were no doubt helping each other achieve the filtered perfection of a social media influencer and a Scottish supermodel. So she wasn”t entirely worried that his lack of punctuality meant he wouldn”t come at all.
“Hey Core, do you mind helping us grab some platters from the kitchen?” Josh asked. “Gracie’s worried the guests are gonna die of starvation soon if they don’t get…Sissy? Sorry, I thought you were…dude, you look amazing!”
“Your astonishment is a little hurtful, but…thanks, I guess,” she said before chugging her glass empty.
“Shut up. You’re always pretty. I just never saw you try slaying before. Oh no…that means…”
“What?”
“Dane.”
“What about him?”
“Well, with you looking like that…just let him know that I don’t care if he’s my bestie…if he makes any unwanted advances, I’ll have no other choice but to fight him for your honor.”
“I’ll let him know as soon as I see him. You think he’ll be here?”
“Of course. He’s probably just doing a last-minute set of push-ups to get the veins in his biceps poppin”,” he said without noticing May with Bree approaching behind him. “You know that’s how I got May, right? First official date…right before I ring the doorbell…I drop to the ground and bust out a cool forty-five. Not enough to get me sweaty, but enough to get me swoll. She opens the door, and it’s love at first sight. Why? Because no woman can refrain from the vein.”
“You were sweating profusely,” May said, startling him. “I just thought it was cute that you were so nervous…or so I thought. It had nothing to do with your veiny arms, you weirdo.”
“Deny all you want, but I bet you anything…when Dane walks in this room, he’s gonna have his sleeves rolled up as high as they’ll go.”
“And that will be the death of my inhibition, will it?” Avi asked.
“Smaller words,” May reminded her.
“I know what inhibition means, May. And yes, Sissy. That’s exactly what will happen to you if you’re not prepared to fight it.”
“Well then…we should hurry and grab those platters. It will give me more time to prepare for his brawny beguiling.”
She and May shared a laugh at Josh’s expense before Avi followed her brother out of the ballroom and towards the kitchen. As she walked, she thought less about Mr. MacKinnon’s fit physique and more about what she was going to say and how she was going to say it when the time inevitably came. Arriving in the kitchen, she grabbed the plate of pre-cut trifle with her right hand and the platter of candied fruit with her left before returning to the ball.
“Mr. MacKinnon, thanks in no small part to you, the last eight days have been some of the most wonderful I’ve ever experienced. No…that’s just asking for him to try and change my mind. Straight to the point is best. Mr. MacKinnon, I feel nothing for you romantically but value the friendship we’ve formed over the last week. No…that wasn’t ‘straight to the point.’ It was just a lie and a hurtful one at that. What about… Mr. MacKinnon…”
As she passed under the threshold of the open ballroom door, she stopped scripting their next encounter and began scanning the dance floor to see if he’d beat her back. He hadn’t. She breathed easy knowing that she’d still have time to concoct something that brought an amicable closure to their star-crossed relationship. However, before she could resume devising, she felt the grasp of three white-gloved hands escorting her away from the entrance.
“Shut up! That can’t be Avi Hawthorne!” Kate said.
“Oh my goodness, Avi! You look absolutely amazing!”
“Thank you, Min. I…”
“Absolutely amazing doesn’t even begin to describe what I see standing here before me,” said Jennifer. “Having said that, you might want to consider leaving immediately as such beauty is entirely anachronistic to the Regency period.”
“Oh…I’m…I’m sorry…I”
“Oh, stop. I’m only teasing. You look…wow! Just wow.”
“Oh good. And thank you, Jennifer. I just wanted…”
In an instant, Avi forgot every last word in her vast vocabulary. On its surface, Mr. MacKinnon’s fashionably late entrance lacked all flash and flare, but despite the monotonous typicality of his dashing dark wardrobe and teasing grin, he was the most mesmerizing being she had ever beheld. If she had but a minute to analyze the phenomenon, she might have rightly concluded that her accentuated attraction stemmed not from his characteristic descriptors but from her self-imposed sentence of deprivation and distance that had only made her heart grow fonder.
As the pull of his magnetism laid hold on her legs, her lips found two words to borrow from her brain. If only her brain were half as attentive to her heart as her lips were to her brain, she would know for certain she was severely in love.
“Excuse me,” she said as she handed Min and Kate the platters and left the trio fading in the distance behind her.
She didn’t know what she would do nor say when fate decided to relinquish control of her faculties, but she did know one thing: any preconceived plans were lost along the wayside.
And when their eyes finally met, she could see in them the translation of his every adoring thought: Her gown did not deserve her. The ball did not deserve her. Neither he nor the world deserved her exquisite presence and unrelenting beauty.
But as she finished reading his gaze, and just before she let it envelop her, she beheld an equally handsome but taller and broader-shouldered man enter the ballroom. He spotted her and hastily push past Mr. MacKinnon.
“Avi Hawthorne…”
She was shocked into a form of living rigor mortis. Avi had forgotten her realtor even existed and struggled to recall his name.
“Umm…Mr. Alcott…” she eventually said while dividing her glances between him and Mr. MacKinnon. “Hi…and…what are you doing here?”
“Please, call me Shane. I apologize for showing up unannounced and uninvited, but I stopped by the estate just this morning to see you and once again relied on your butler for information. Since it was so last-minute, I could only do my best to dress the part but…what do you think?” he asked as he turned for her to look over his Regency attire.
“It’s lovely, and you know whose favorite color is navy? Gracie.” Avi said as she scanned the room for her sister. “I simply must show her. Where is she? Gracie!”
“Well thank you, Avi. And you look stunning as always. Doesn’t she look stunning?” he randomly asked Jada who nodded.
Jada wasn’t the only stranger Shane asked. He inquired of every random person in his crowded vicinity. But Avi didn’t care what everyone else thought. She didn’t even care what Shane thought. Avi only wanted to hear it from Mr. MacKinnon, so she waited impatiently for the Brit to ask the Scot.
“Doesn’t she?” he finally asked.
“...Aye,” said Mr. MacKinnon with an air of softness that practically caused her to keel over.
“There you have it…you are stunning, Avi Hawthorne. Will you dance with me?”
As Shane extended his arm, Avi felt the sudden urge to knee him in the unmentionables.
“What is happening?”
Had that sculpture of a man with his deep and elegant English accent asked her to dance only a week earlier, she’d have completely malfunctioned. Now he was nothing short of a distraction…an obstruction even…deterring her from heaven. He was a parasite…a leach even…draining her limited time like precious blood through the pores of the fleeting present!
“Of course,” she said politely as she compelled herself to take his stupid, smelly, muscular forearm.
Within moments, she was waltzing with the wrong man. Seconds lasted eons, and every word he spoke failed to register in her auditory cortex. His gentle touch and costly cologne repelled her. She had never come so close to hating anyone, especially so unfairly, but she loathed Shane Alcott in that instant. It wasn’t his fault. He was incredible, but he just wasn’t Mr. MacKinnon.
After about a minute or so of hellish drudgery, Avi saw something that pushed her even deeper into the inferno. Bonnie took her ex by the hand and led him to the dance floor, and even though she was as invisible to Mr. MacKinnon as Shane was to Avi, their proximity felt like salty blades tearing through the black of Avi’s burns.
What more could she do? Fate clearly had some grander plan. She was half certain if she spoke her feelings, Mr. MacKinnon would randomly go deaf. If she wrote them out, he’d suddenly go blind. If she stayed in Europe, he’d get a job offer in her hometown. If she decided to join him in the States, he’d get fired, perfectly timed for them to wave to each other from passing planes. No matter what she did or what she didn’t, there was always going to be something - a Bonnie, a Shane, a misunderstanding, an interruption, even a butterfly flapping its wings from somewhere halfway around the world - keeping them just centimeters short of together. Providence wouldn’t even let her close enough to say goodbye. After all, that was why she was there…at least that was the story she told herself.
In the name of propriety, Avi finished the waltz with Shane even though she would have liked to have fled eons earlier. She thanked him for the dance, excused herself from the ball, and disappeared out into the faint light of the candle-lit hallways of Hawthorne Hall. Too momentarily self-consumed to dote on the feelings of a decent gentleman, Avi exited completely unaware of the hurt she had caused.
Mr. Alcott had waited for days, dressed the part, and drove all that distance just for her. He had no idea what happened between their conversation by the swing and her leaving him stranded on the dance floor, but one thing was obvious: if she were Elizabeth Bennet, he was nothing more than her Mr. Collins.
“Shane?” asked the mysterious feminine voice from behind him.
He turned lethargically, but when he was all the way around, he felt enlivened and bewildered by the beauty of the ravishing, Regency princess standing before him.
“Gracie…isn’t it?” he asked as she did nothing to restrict the flushing of her cheeks and nodded.
Avi didn’t know where she was going or why she was running, but she allowed her feet the freedom to choose. They took her past the stairway, through the front door and out into the chilled night air. There, she found silence and slower steps. There, she felt the crisp, cool wind breathing fresh into her lungs. She took in the air as she walked around to the side of the building until she could hear the muffled songs of stringed instruments playing through the ballroom window. She approached, leaned her back up against the stone exterior of the house mere inches from the glassy pane, and slid down until she sat. But before she could get comfortable on the ground beneath her, she heard the sweetest Scottish sound her ears had ever heard.
“Ms. Hawthorne…”
Avi couldn’t look up. She couldn’t even move. She was certain that any sudden movements would tempt the fates to altogether pluck him right out of existence. But when he spoke again, she got up the courage to tempt them nonetheless.
“Kin ah have this dance?” he asked with a bow.
Her eyes smiled with the sheen of glistening joy. Her feet lifted her off the ground. Her hand reached his reaching as he led her not back inside to dance, but to a small patch of grass where they could barely hear the notes of the four-piece, indoor orchestra. She raised their hands and waited for him to place the other on her mid back, completing the closed position of the waltz, but Mr. MacKinnon let go.
Pleasantly surprising her, he wrapped both his arms around her waist and clasped his fingers together in the middle-school-slow-dance position. It wasn’t Elizabethian, but it was him, and that’s all she wanted. Avi’s flushed cheeks pressed her eyes up into an adoring squint as she rested both hands on the nape of his neck.
He was as refined a dancer as he was an equestrian, but Avi could have sworn she was gliding like a feather through the astral plane, somewhere nearer to heaven than earth. With every step they shared, the music seemed to gradually crescendo. It grew, then rose, and then amplified until it rang out like the Berlin Philharmonic surrounded by concourses and choirs of crooning angels. He said nothing. She said nothing. For what was there to say that would add any measure to the already overflowing moment?
As the tempo of his steps began to slow and then stop, he loosened his hold and leaned just enough away from the pull of her body to gaze helplessly into the reflective font of her eyes. His sparkled like flawless diamonds against the dark of night. The moon and everything under it fell silent in eager anticipation as the stars finally fell into submission and uncrossed. His lips approached with longing hesitation and at such slothful speed, she wondered if her eyes were just playing cruel tricks. But as his eyelids gently closed, she knew all her waiting had come to a kiss.
“You need this…Avi Hawthorne,” she accidentally whispered aloud as she surrendered to fading sight.
He pressed forward until their lips delicately fit into perfect place. It was miraculous; a kiss seeping with passion yet entirely void of any lust.
A faint touch followed by a breathing graze…
…received rather than pressed or extended…
…lips ever so open but only enough to inhale for survival’s sake.
It made every moment before sting like torture by comparison, yet itself was pleasant torture of which she never prayed end. She laggardly pulled away, and this she only did from fear that she may not live another moment without seeing his face. She didn’t remember resting the tips of her fingers against the body of his jaw, but there they were - framing an inspired, living masterpiece of divine origin. She fell helpless to the sight of him, closed her eyes, and kissed him once more.
But the thundering boom of a third-party gasp forced Avi’s optics to uncontrollably shoot open and her lips to wither in retreat. There she stood: a pained and rabid Bonnie panting in pain and on the verge of violence. Behind her stood a shocked and awed group of guests that included Jennifer, Mick, and Min.
“Dane…” Bonnie said, insinuating the need for a quick explanation.
He said nothing. No doubt tongue tied and unaware of how much of the story Avi’d want him to share, he looked to her for help. As he did, Bonnie’s head turned on the slow swivel of fury like a possessed demon doll. She stared into Avi’s soul with the rage of Gordon Ramsey being served raw chicken five times in five minutes.
“This will be the day that I die,” Avi thought.
At least she knew heaven was nothing to fear. She’d just been there only moments earlier. The only difficult thing would be the wait for Mr. MacKinnon if Bonnie chose to let him live.
As the female personification of a ramrod charged with the full force of a billion bulls, Avi started to wonder if heaven was even in her cards. She had once read that falsifiers have a spot reserved for them eternally in the eighth circle of Dante’s Inferno…did falling for a friendly acquaintance’s ex and then seeing him behind her back qualify?
Either way…as Bonnie, charging ahead full steam, pulled her fist back to swing, Avi had just enough time to think her last thought:
“You deserve this…Avi Hawthorne.”