“I thought…” I swallow past a sudden lump in my throat. “For a while, I thought that after my mother was gone, you didn’t have a reason to visit anymore.”
“Nell.”
Before I can look at him again, he takes hold of my shoulders and pulls me against him, wrapping his arms around me.
My heart stutters, as if it’s stopped and restarted. Any curiosity I’d had about Darius having been numbed to touch dissolves in less than a second. There is no hesitation or uncertainty in his embrace.
I can’t bring myself to put my arms around his waist, but I let my cheek rest against his shirtfront. The sensation of his body against mine is both foreign and unbearably comforting at the same time. He smells like citrus soap and shaving cream.
But it’s not the same as it once was when I’d bury my face in his chest and let him lift me off the ground. He feels different—not nearly as relaxed and approachable as he used to. He’s harder, even more powerful, and tense.
He’s also warm. Strong. I can hear his heartbeat, a heavy, steady thumping that sounds as if it will outlast time itself. Whatever his captors took from him, they couldn’t stop the beating of his heart or eradicate his innate power. They hadn’t stood a chance.
“I’m so damned sorry.” He shifts, and his stubble abrades the skin of my temple. “After Katherine died, I couldn’t stand what had happened, that I hadn’t been able to foresee or stop any of it. I hated that I’d failed your parents…failed you most of all. If I’d done something differently, you might’ve been spared from such a nightmare. And God knows none of us wanted your mother to die, but I thought finally you and Henry would be okay. That you didn’t need me anymore.”
“You were wrong.” My chest constricts. My father and I had been anything but okay. I shift to press my face into Darius’s shirtfront. “I still needed you. We both did.”
“I know.” A rough note edges his voice. “I’m sorry.”
I pull in a heavy breath and nestle more closely against him, though I keep my arms at my sides. The jagged pieces inside me smooth and soften a bit.
Much as I wish he’d been here when I’d been alone and broken, I’d survived. Like me, he hadn’t had anyone during his captivity, and he’d come out of it so much stronger. Maybe I can still do that too.
Slowly he unfolds his arms from around me and steps back, resting his hands on my shoulders. Furrows crease his forehead, and his expression is still dark with pain and regret.
“We missed you,” I say. “And I hate what happened to you, but I’m glad you came back.”
“I am too, Nell. I’ll try to make it up to you.”
“You don’t have to.” I manage to give him a faint smile. “Maybe we can put it in the past and just start again. New.”
“I’d like that.”
“So would I.”
The rattle of the garage door opening echoes through the wall. We separate, and I move to turn on the faucet and wash the cups. A few seconds later, my father enters the kitchen, his suit jacket slung over his arm.
“Hello, there.” He sets his car keys in a dish beside the door, glancing between us. “What have you two been up to tonight?”
“We went out to dinner and came back here for dessert.” I indicate the plate where I’d left his portion of cake and pastries. “We saved some for you.”
“Hmm.” He peers at the desserts. “Looks good.”
“There’s still coffee too,” Darius says. “How was the lecture?”
“Interesting debate about the semiotics of sleep and the psyche in ancient Greece.” My father takes a mug from the cupboard. “Sit down and I’ll tell you about it.”
“I think I’m going to try and start this book I’m supposed to be writing.” Darius runs a hand through his hair, a rueful expression rising to his eyes. “Or at least type the words Chapter One.”
I head toward the door. “I’m going to do some reading myself and go to bed.”
My father chuckles. “I see the ancient Greek psyche doesn’t fascinate either one of you as much as it does me. Sleep well.”
We say good night, and I start up the stairs. Darius follows, his footsteps heavy and deliberate.
Pausing on the third-floor landing, I turn to face him. “Thank you again for tonight. Dinner was delicious, and…everything was really nice.”
“I agree.” He pushes open the door of his room. “Thanks for joining me, Nell. Get a good night’s sleep.”
With a little wave, I head up the attic stairs to my room. When I reach the top and turn the corner, Darius’s bedroom door closes below with a click. Only then do I realize he was watching me leave.
CHAPTER 15
Nell
Late October brings cooler nights, a few changing leaves, and a bounty of different kinds of apples at the farmer’s market. I get into the habit of taking my camera with me when I walk home from school or run errands on weekends.
I take pictures of trees, squirrels, fence posts, autumn decorations of cornucopias and pumpkins. I continue experimenting with macro lens photography, discovering the textures embedded in feathers, raspberries, tree bark, paper.
Only in the privacy of my bedroom do I continue to take self-portraits, even experimenting with different lighting and angles. Unlike gregarious Simon, I have no interest in taking portraits of other people, but the images of myself are a good way to work on my technique and to experiment with mixed media.
After my agreement with Darius to “start new,” I make an effort to temper my awareness of his physicality, though I can’t stop wondering about his life, his captivity, his thoughts. I can’t stop believing that he might be the only person in the world who would understand why I’ve felt the way I have.
I join him for running down to the old railroad bridge a couple more times, though my fear that I’m slowing him down prevents me from making a habit out of it. I ride with him to school in the morning, but continue to walk home in the afternoon—sometimes so I can study at the library or use the darkroom. My routine becomes more comfortable, easier, even if the house still feels different with him in it.
On Halloween weekend, I decide to go out in the afternoon to buy some new clothes. I don’t really need anything, but after Darius’s remark about me looking “pretty,” it wouldn’t hurt to pay a bit more attention to what I’m wearing.
“Dad?” I knock briefly on the half-open office door. “Am I interrupting?”
“Come in.” He looks at me from over the tops of his glasses and waves me in. “Thanks for getting my paper revisions typed. I just confirmed my plane and hotel reservations, so I’ll print out the info for you. I’ll have a few more things for you to type up before I leave.”
“Sure. Just let me know.”
“I also received an email from your art professor.” He sets his pen down. “She’s been very impressed with your work over the years, especially this semester.”
“Ms. Meadows? Really?” Pleased, I sit in the chair in front of his desk. “Art is my favorite class, and she’s a great teacher. So is Darius. All the kids like him.”