The devil the carter ser.., p.11
The Devil: The Carter Series, page 11
“Ah, only a now and then,” he giggles, bringing out the little boy in him. “But how are you, sis? Are you managing to get out more?”
“No, not really. I’m fine though, can’t complain really.”
“You’re not sleeping with Lucius, are you?”
His words have my heart feeling like it’s stopped frozen in time, while all breath seems to have escaped my body at once.
“What? …What? ...I mean…What? No!” I barely manage to gasp down the phone at the same time as I hear him slip into another chuckle.
“I’m messing!” he laughs. “Even I’m not stupid enough to think you’d do that.”
As relief hits me, I emit a fake, pitched laugh down the phone. Lord, I think I just survived my first heart attack…just!
“Oh, I gotta go,” he says, sounding carefree and happy. “I miss you, Hels. See you next month.”
“Be good,” I call out before he disappears, after which, I sink into a heap on the floor. Now, on top of everything else, I’m incredibly homesick. Things must be bad if I’m missing my annoying kid brother.
Chapter 11
Helena
Walking downstairs, I feel anxious, all the while hoping against hope, that I don’t run into Lucius. In fact, if I can stay clear of everyone today, that would be just peachy. It’s not long, however, until I hear two deep voices coming from the direction of the living room. Grimacing over my own misfortune, I freeze on the spot, knowing that one of them belongs to Lucius, and from how he’s talking, the other one must belong to his father, Paul. He sounds much too respectful and too manly to be one of Lucius’ friends.
The voices are calm, but I don’t want to disturb whatever it is they’re talking about, so I decide to just hang about on the stairs like a stale old cobweb, hoping to remain unnoticed. I’m already in my gardening gear and the door to outside looks awfully tempting, but I know it sticks sometimes. Fate is bound to mess with me and make a noise if I decide to bolt for it.
“Lucius, she would be proud of you, you know that,” Paul says, trying to convince Lucius of his words. “I am proud of you.”
Oh, God! I inwardly cringe over my intrusion on this heart-touching moment, eavesdropping like a common, little thief, a pickpocket of sentimental, private moments between a father and son. Feeling the need to leave as soon as humanly possible, I turn to try and make my way back upstairs. However, my footsteps falter when I hear Lucius breathe out a long, sad sigh that causes my heart to drop. I’ve never heard him sound so sad, and all from a single sigh.
“What if…?” he begins to say but stops himself for a moment. “I can’t…fuck, I wanted…” He sighs again, this time sounding frustrated by his inability to put his thoughts into words.
“You didn’t, and besides, what you felt was normal. You won’t turn into him, Lucius, believe me!” Paul tries to reassure him.
“I think you’re right, this time away is a good idea,” Lucius says, sounding determined. “I’ll get a bag together ASAP and meet you at the office. It’s time I learned the ropes before I go back to college anyway.”
“Great,” Paul replies, sounding just as certain as Lucius. “I’m looking forward to having the company. See you in about an hour?”
“Sure thing, Dad,” he says. There’s a pause, but then someone begins to head this way.
Shit! What do I do? They’re going to know I’ve been listening. Think, Helena!
Deciding that going up to my room is too far away, I begin to walk down the rest of the steps to try and look as though I’ve just descended the staircase. Once I hit the bottom, Lucius enters the room with his brow furrowed and his hand running anxiously through his soft, black hair. Memories of running my hand through that same hair last night causes butterflies to begin flying through my chest. He freezes while staring at me in such a way, I want to wither into nothing. Instead, I stare back at him, chewing on my bottom lip over the awkwardness of the situation. Eventually, I open my mouth to say something, but he moves to grab his jacket from the breakfast bar and turns to walk swiftly out the door. I close my eyes in regret and emptiness. However, I’m not entirely sure which bit of everything I’m regretting more.
I don’t see Lucius for a week or two, but Meri informed me he had gone to New York with his father on some business trip. Disappointment floods through me, and in so many ways. I find that I’m missing his little jibes, his white cards and his perfect cursive script, his attempts to kiss me, and his overall presence here. I’m so disappointed with myself for letting things go as far as they did, only to pull away at the last moment. Maybe I’m also disappointed with him. He teased me for being a virgin and yet he seriously thought I’d give it up so easily. Then he got pissed at me for changing my mind. I know his reputation isn’t warm and fuzzy with hearts and rainbows, but I kind of thought…I have no idea what I thought.
Just to add to the mix of crap, I’ve now run out of stuff to do. My little spot in the garden is complete, so apart from weeding and watering, there’s not much to do out there. Some shoots have begun to surface, which shocked me. I expected them not to grow because it’s me who planted them. And no one needs to point out the link between my garden and my growing feelings toward Lucius, even I realize how blatantly obvious and pathetic it is. If my life were a novel right now, the teacher would be asking her students how the patch of dirt and plants represent my growing feelings toward someone I never had confidence or trust in.
Sadly, I do miss him though, much more than I thought I would. However, his absence is probably a good thing for me, he warned me after all, so I should take this as an opportunity to get over him without having actually ever got under him…Well, unless you count the humiliating encounter that happened on the bench. Damn that moment on the bench!
My head feels muffled all the time. I haven’t had any full-blown migraines for a while, but there’s a warning feeling in my head twenty-four-seven. Like a flashing beacon, it’s warning me that if it wants to, it could easily blow into one. I’m careful to drink plenty, stay out of the sun, and basically be more of a recluse than I already am.
Being confined to my room has given me plenty of time to think about my life choices. I know I want to do something creative, and I know I want to travel, so I make a conscious decision to do so next summer. I’ll be eighteen and can use the summer vacation to go somewhere new and exciting. I’ve applied to colleges to study textiles and photography so it will fit in nicely, gaining me some experience as well as building up my confidence. Lord knows I’m seriously lacking in that department. The idea of doing just that begins to make me feel excited, even relishing in the challenges and experiences ahead of me. Perhaps I can take the next year to learn a language, even if it’s just a few words with which to get by.
After hitting this epiphany, I jump up to go and talk to Jen and Meri about it. I need some encouragement to try and cement the decisions I’ve made. However, before I can even reach the door, my phone rings and stops me in my tracks. I look down at the caller ID and it surprises me, but in a great way.
“Hi, Mom” I answer enthusiastically, “how are you guys? Where are you?” My enthusiasm turns to concern as soon as I hear my mother begin to sniff and sob through the phone. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“Hi, sweetheart,” Mom forces out through her tears, “it’s bad news, I’m afraid.”
“What? Is it Dad? Cam? Nate?” My voice sounds panicked, and I feel a heavy, painful lump forming at the back of my throat.
“It’s your nonna, Hels, she passed away yesterday.”
As if saying those words makes it all the more real for her, she breaks down into full-on crying. My eyes feel glazy and there’s a distinct blurring to everything as they fill with unshed tears.
“Hi, Hels,” Dad says as he takes the phone from her, “I’m so sorry, honey. She passed peacefully in her sleep. The doctors said she was just old, and her body had slowly been giving up. There’s nothing anyone could have done.”
Trying not to let out a yelp akin to a howling dog, I nod my head, even though he can’t see. However, my emotions soon get the better of me, forcing me to release a sob of my own, the sound of which forces me to collapse on the bed and bury my head inside of my hands. As if some higher deity knew I needed someone, Meri appears at the door, putting her hand up ready to knock. When she sees me, she stops dead in her tracks. She frowns with indecision before uttering, “I’ll go get Mom.”
“Honey, you still there?” Dad asks softly.
“Yes, sorry,” I reply with a long sigh made through crying. “Do I need to come back now? What about a funeral?”
“Don’t worry about all that, we’re still in France,” he explains. “I’ll make the traveling arrangements for you and send the tickets your way. Probably for a couple of weeks’ time. We can’t get back until next week anyway. We’ll pick up Cam and Nate on the way back. You gonna be ok? Is Jen there with you?”
I look up and see my aunt hovering by the door with Meri.
“Yes, she’s right here,” I say to him.
I instinctively pass the phone over to the adult in the room and half listen while she talks to her brother. Meri, being the sensitive soul that she is, begins to tear up before lunging for me and holding on tightly while I sob against her hair. As soon as Jen finishes on the phone to Dad, she passes it back so he and I can say goodbye.
“Come here, Hels,” Jen says before grasping hold of me for a long hug, only so fresh tears can fall into her hair too.
“I feel so bad for Mom,” I cry, “I can’t imagine losing your mom!” The thought alone has me thinking about Lucius again, but as a poor thirteen-year-old boy, lost in this huge house without his mother. No wonder he is so emotionally distant.
“I know, sweetie,” she says calmly, “but it’s life, I’m afraid. We are here for you; you know that, right?”
I nod, agreeing with her, but it doesn’t feel any better. It’s at moments like this when people who tell you they’re there for you just sounds like a throwaway comment, because how can they be? How can they feel what you’re feeling when they have no emotional attachment to the person you’ve lost? In fact, a horrible thought passes through me, a thought of envy over their feelings of normalcy. I resent their lack of grief right now. It’s cold of me to think like that, but I guess I’m just wishing I could be with my mother right now. I know she has Dad with her, but I feel so helpless being stuck here. She’s lost her mother, and her family are all over the place. Two weeks seems like such a long way from now, and without Lucius or my gardening, time seems to be passing by at a snail’s pace.
It’s been a few days since my nonna passed away, and it’s got me thinking about my life. She was such a personality, full of wild and exciting tales of the things she had done over her lifetime. When she was my age, she was quite the beauty and had many male admirers. She used to laugh cheekily when she told me how she liked to play them off against one another. It wasn’t until she met my grandpa when he was fighting overseas, that she truly fell in love. She had met him at a local bar in her village when he and a bunch of other soldiers were having a rare night off and had decided to sample the local nightlife. She told me it was love at first sight; no question about it.
Of course, she also told me she had played hard to get, but after a few dances and the odd kiss here and there, she knew he was hers and she was his. I need to have a life like this and break out of this mold I’ve built around myself. I also need to break free of what my father has had me believing about being a good girl; I need to make mistakes and own them. I need to stop being feared of others and put myself out there. And I need to let the Lucius’ of this world know I am here and waiting to be swept up in their intensity and passion. Too bad I’ve blown my chance with him.
It’s Thursday lunchtime and I’m chomping on a rather dull sandwich in the garden, on the very bench Lucius had tried to touch me. I can smell the same herbs from that night, and it makes me feel sad and regretful of lost opportunities.
“Hello, Topolina,” a soft, low, and familiar voice says from behind me.
Mid-chew, I turn to see Lucius standing next to the bench, wearing a navy suit, sans tie, and his usual aviators. I have no words to describe how amazing he looks. Butterflies fill my stomach, suddenly seeing him for the man he is, not the boy who’s only few years older than me. He moves slowly to come and sit down beside me and, instinctively, I twist my legs so I can face him.
“Hello.” My voice sounds gravelly, unused.
“I’m sorry about your grandmother,” he says, stroking my cheek with his thumb pad, “I can appreciate what it’s like to lose someone special.”
He looks so sad, my heart aches for him.
“Thank you, she was special. The funeral is in a couple of weeks, so I’ll be going home next weekend,” I tell him with a fake smile. “That’s something for you to look forward to.”
Lucius looks up at me with a serious expression and his thumb pauses on my cheek.
“Where’ve you been?” I just about manage to whisper while he’s looking at me so intensely and as though he’s hurting over what I’ve just said.
“Paul’s LA office, helping him with a case he’s working on,” he mutters, still studying my lips with a frown of torment on his face.
“Sounds…interesting,” I utter.
“Not really. A couple of fraudulent bankers,” he says with a hint of a laugh that holds no mirth. “Country club types who failed to cover their tracks.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, Paul’s causing rifts amongst the banking world as well as the golfing community. The name ‘Hastings’ will be mud for years to come.”
“Will that include snubbing you?”
“Undoubtedly,” he says, finally bringing his eyes to meet mine. “Comes with the territory.”
“But that’s—”
“Helena, I have to apologize for my actions the night before I left for New York,” he says, to which I must look beyond confused; I thought he was mad at me. “I knew you weren’t ready, but I pushed you anyway. You have to believe me when I say I’m not into pushing myself on anyone like that.”
“That’s not what I thought, Lucius,” I tell him as I take hold of his hand. “I led you on and I certainly don’t blame you for anything. I wanted to, I just suddenly felt too nervous to do anything. I’m sorry.”
“Mia topolina,” he whispers softly, suddenly looking hurt and fragile. “I’m not ready for you to go, but perhaps it’s for the best.” It’s hard for me to hear him say this and I don’t know how to respond without turning into a blubbering mess. “I’m going to tell you something and I trust you more than anyone not to let it go any further. I feel like I owe you an explanation after how I reacted. I want you to know I was not angry with you at all.”
“You weren’t? But the glass? The way you looked at me? You left?” I sputter it all out at once.
“I know, but I was angry with myself; I was terrified of turning into him,” he says with a heavy, sad sigh. I can tell that whatever this thing is, it’s difficult for him to talk about.
“Him?”
“Paul isn’t my biological father,” he explains, “my mother was raped when she was very young, younger than I am now.” I drop my mouth open in shock before trying to cover it with my hand. I always assumed Paul was his dad by blood as well as by any other means. “She fell pregnant and being Italian and a devout Catholic, she refused to have an abortion. Paul was her boss at the time and had always liked her from afar. He found her crying in the office one night and she let the whole story fall out of her. He helped her, found somewhere for her to live, got her proper healthcare, and even bought her baby stuff. During all of this, they fell in love with each other and that’s how they became a couple. They married after I was born and decided to raise me as his.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I reply rather unhelpfully; what do you say? “So, how did you find out?”
“Turns out her rapist didn’t live far from here and he found out about her marriage to a multimillionaire.” He smiles without an ounce of cheer and begins staring into the distance. “He hounded them both, sent threatening notes as well as other unsavory messages until eventually, he broke her. She killed herself, just after my thirteenth birthday. Hung herself from that tree over there.” He points into the distance, but I don’t follow his finger, instead, I keep my eyes firmly fixed on him.
“Oh, God, Lucius,” I whisper, holding his hand tighter and shuffling closer to his hunched-over body.
“In true thriller movie fashion, the housekeeper found her. Dad and the gardener had to cut her down so I wouldn’t see her when I returned home from school. There was a note left for me, but he was scared about what she might have written, so he read it first. He explained everything to me when I turned eighteen. The note was long gone. Apparently, it had been very graphic and incoherent, so Paul had to put the kiddy gloves on for me and tell it in his own way. It still wasn’t pretty though.”
