I nod. Then it hits me out of the blue. I’m never going to be able to have a normal relationship with anyone ever again. I’m never going to have children. Who would want me like this?
A hollow feeling sets up residence in my stomach. I had always taken for granted that at some point, when I met the right guy, I would settle down, get married and have kids. It was just a given. And now it’s not. That choice has been forever taken away.
I feel a sudden overwhelming sense of loss for the children I’m never going to have, a loss for the future I could have had.
“You want a brew?” Sol asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I can feel tears glimmering in my eyes. I don’t want him to see them, so I look down and start working again. “A brew would be great.” I somehow manage to keep my voice steady even though the tears have turned hot and are burning their way down the back of my throat.
Sol leans his pitchfork up against the wall with a clang. “We’ve got a kettle and that in the barn, but we’ve only got coffee there. Will that do you?”
I swallow down. “Coffee’s fine.”
He pulls his gloves off. “Milk and sugar?”
“Milk.”
“Powdered okay?”
“That’ll be fine,” I say quickly, wishing he’d just go and leave me alone.
He shoves his gloves into the back pocket of his jeans. “Won’t be long, and no slacking while I’m gone.” He leaves me with one of his trademark cheeky smiles before exiting the door. But even that doesn’t help.
The second he’s gone, tears spill from my eyes. I wipe them away but more quickly follow.
I’m being stupid. I know I’m being stupid. I need to pull myself together.
I press the palms of my hands to my eyes and force myself to take a few deep breaths. When the tears are finally dried and gone, I force my body back to work.
Then as quick as that my area is all done. I look around and see there’s still some mess that needs clearing up over in the far corner that Sol hadn’t got to yet.
I look down at my huge wellies, then at the wheelbarrow to my right, then back to the mess.
It’ll all probably fall off the pitchfork if I walk the distance in these wellies. I’ll use a shovel.
I swap my pitchfork for a shovel and flipper my way over to the mess. After a bit of faffing, I manage to get some of the manure onto the shovel. Then, very carefully so not to drop it, I slowly walk back, heading straight for the wheelbarrow.
And don’t ask how I mange it because I have no clue, but somehow I step on the toe of my right welly with my left, lose my balance and trip forward. As I fall, I instinctively put my hands out to stop myself, dropping the shovel. It clatters to the floor and horse shit flicks up everywhere, well mainly onto me, and I land hard on my hands and knees on the concrete floor.
“Oww!” I cry from the instant pain. I might be stronger nowadays but this still hurts like hell.
Cursing out loud, I sit back on my haunches, rubbing my bruised knees.
Great. Just bloody fucking great. I’m bruised and covered in horse shit. It’s everywhere: it’s in my hair and all over my clothes. Why does this stuff always happen to me?
I yank my gloves off and, using my sore hands, rub my face clean, getting the manure off my skin, then shake my head roughly, running a hand over my ponytail, trying to get the manure out.
“Sitting down on the job?” I hear Nathan’s deep voice come from the doorway.
Fuckety fuck.
I haven’t heard him coming. Wouldn’t you just know when I think it can’t get any worse, Nathan arrives to ensure it does.
I look up at him. He’s got a look of amusement spread across his face which instantly grates on me. I’ve never met anyone who can get under my skin as quickly as he can.
“Piss off,” I snap.
His look of amusement instantly disintegrates and I regret my harshness. But I’m not apologising, no siree.
He glares at me with hard eyes and, not taking them off mine, pulls a New York Yankees baseball cap from out of the back pocket of his jeans, pushes his hair from off his forehead and puts it on, pulling the peak low, shading his eyes.
I notice he hasn’t shaved and has the beginnings of stubble. It suits him much better than being clean shaven. It fits in with his hobo look.
“Well … ” he says with a deep exhalation of breathe, “I had come to ask if you wanted to sack this off and come out with me, but I’m guessing by your mood probably not.”
Out? He wants to take me out? On what planet is this?
“You want to take me out, with you?” I ask, a slight stammer creeping into my voice.
“Yep,” he answers and pushes his hands into the back pockets of his ripped jeans.
Okay, so this is an unexpected turn of events. I’m not really sure what to do, I mean I don’t deserve to be able to go out but ... I haven’t been off this farm since I arrived here a month ago, and I am supposed to be trying to move forward, and it would be nice to see some different surroundings for a change.
“That would be great, but … I thought I wasn’t allowed to go out in public in case anyone recognises me?”
He pulls his hands free from his pockets and readjusts his cap, lifting the peak so I can see his face better.
Nathan really is good looking. His eyes look almost luminous in this light. It’s such a shame he’s an arsehole.
“Don’t worry,” he says mildly. “Where we’re going there won’t be anyone around.”
Sounds ominous. Nerves flutter through my stomach. I really don’t know how I feel about being alone with Nathan for an extended period of time but I hear myself saying, “Okay, that’d be great.” My voice apparently has more confidence about this than my brain does.
“You’re probably going to want to get cleaned up.” A smile plays on his lips as he gestures to my crap-covered clothes.
I glance down at myself, realising I’m still sitting on the floor with the horse manure. I quickly get to my feet, feeling self-conscious and I wipe my hands over my clothes, trying to dust them clean, only to realise all I’ve managed to achieve is to wipe crap all over my hands again. I hold them out awkwardly by my sides. “Yeah, I need to get a shower.” I nod, embarrassed.
“I’ll meet you back at the house in an hour.” Then he’s gone, almost like he was never here.
I’m going out. With Nathan. Now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear myself say.
I wipe my hands on the only clean part of me, the back of my T-shirt, and head for the door. I consider going to see Honor and Hope before I go but I see they’re right over the other side of the paddock, grazing on the grass, and decide against it.
I stop by the barn to let Sol know where I’m going but he’s nowhere to be found. Maybe he’s popped back to the house.
When I get back, I look around for him. I check the kitchen, living room, I even knock on his bedroom door, but there’s no answer. Maybe Nathan saw him and told him he was taking me out and he might have gone back to the stables already to finish off. We’ve probably just missed one another. Without giving it another thought, I go straight to the bathroom, peel my stinky clothes off and jump in the shower.
As the hot water hits my head, I realise I’m actually looking forward to going out with Nathan. And I really don’t know what to do with the thought. It feels alien and I can’t seem to find a suitable place for it in my mind.
Chapter 12
Stripped Bare
I’ve left my hair down. Nathan bought me a hair dryer last week. It makes a change to wear it down. I’d forgotten how much I like the feel of it over my shoulders and running down my back. I always used to wear my hair down in my old life, set poker straight by hair straighteners, but for the last month it’s just been tied back into a ponytail. I haven’t really cared to bother with it.
I haven’t got any make-up on because I don’t currently own any. I’ve always felt naked without mascara. I’ve got really huge
blue eyes. I know that may sound like a nice combination but trust me it’s not. I’ve always thought my eyes were too big for my face. They stand out, and not in a good way. Mascara helps to make me feel a little better about them.
I’m wearing my dark blue skinny jeans and ribbed black vest top. I don’t have many clothes. When you’ve got a man buying clothes for you, things are going to be pretty basic. So, I’ve made the best of what I have with what I’ve got.
I assess myself in the mirror. I still look like crap.
I pick up the tub of Vaseline I’ve found in the bathroom cabinet and slick a bit of that over my eyelashes to give them a sheen, and then I rub some on my lips. Okay, that’ll do.
I instantly hate myself for actually caring about my appearance. Carrie can’t care about her appearance anymore, so why should I be able to?
Stop it, Alex. You’re trying, remember.
Still, I don’t even know why I’m bothering to try and look nice. I’m only going out with Nathan, and considering there isn’t going to be any other people around, it’s not exactly going to be anywhere special. It’s a pointless exercise really.
With a sigh, I head downstairs to find him. I can’t hear him in the house anywhere, but just because I can’t hear him, doesn’t mean he’s not here. He can be pretty stealthy when he wants to be.
I poke my head into the living room but it’s empty. I go in the kitchen. Jack’s sitting at the table reading the newspaper, a steaming cup of coffee in front of him, a lit cigar resting in the ashtray. I like the sight. Jack always seems to give off a warm, homely kind of vibe. He glances up at my entrance and smiles warmly. “Hiya, love.”
My eyes instinctively flicker to the newspaper. I resist the urge to ask if I’m in it. The media interest in my and Carrie's disappearance has reduced in the absence of leads as to our whereabouts, obviously.
“Hi,” I reply distractedly, my eyes flitting about. “Do you know where Nathan is?”
“He’s waiting out front for you, love.”
“Oh, okay, thanks.” I turn, going back through the door I just came in.
I feel a bit awkward that Jack knows I’m going out with Nathan. I don’t know why. It’s not like we’re going on a date or anything.
“You look pretty,” Jack says from behind me.
I can’t stop my face from going red. “Thanks,” I mutter and hasten to make my way down the hall and out the front door.
Great, I do look like I’ve made an effort. If Jack noticed then Nathan most certainly will. He’s as sharp as a tack and I don’t want him thinking I made the effort for him because I most certainly did not.
I open the door to see Nathan leaning up against the driver’s side of a black Range Rover. I notice he’s changed his clothes from the ones he had on earlier. He’s wearing black motorbike boots, faded blue jeans and a fitted black T-shirt with a picture of Jim Morrison on the front. He’s actually looks a bit tidier than normal – well, for him, anyway. Even his hair looks like it’s seen a comb.
His lips almost curve into a smile as I approach and if he notices I’ve made an effort, he doesn’t comment on it.
He climbs into the driver’s seat and I walk around to the passenger side, get in and put my seatbelt on.
Nathan roars the engine to life and the CD player comes on in the middle of The Killers' ‘Read My Mind’.
Well at least he’s got good taste in music.
He swings the car around, and instead of turning right and heading down the long drive to the main road, he turns left and drives down the dirt track heading straight for the forest.
We don’t speak for the first minute of the journey and it’s a very long minute.
Obviously I’m the first to break the silence. “Is this your family’s?” I ask.
“What, the car?”
“No, the forest.” I point a finger at the bracken we’re entering. “Do you own this as well as the farm?” The daylight collides with the trees, bringing in a darker edge to the day. I feel a sudden chill on my bare arms. I rub my hands over them.
“Yep,” he answers.
“Wow, you guys have a lot of land.”
“Mmm.”
Silence.
“Sol said you were in the army,” I mention, trying to reignite the conversation.
He gives me a sideways glance. It’s almost a look of suspicion. “Yeah, I was,” he replies slowly.
“Did you like it?”
“What?”
“Being in the army.”
He shrugs. “It was okay.”
“How long were you in for?”
“Seven years.”
Jesus, this is like pulling teeth. “What made you enlist?”
He takes a deep breath. It’s one of those, ‘I really don’t want to talk to you about this but you won’t let up’ kind of breaths. “I wanted to do something useful,” he replies, impassive, not taking his eyes off the track ahead.
“And farming isn’t?”
“Yeah, it is, but I just wanted to branch out on my own for a bit, try something else, see what that was like.”
Well at least his sentences are getting a bit longer.
“How’d that work out for you?” I inquire.
“I’m back here, aren’t I?”
“Hmm.” I nod. “Sol said you saved some peoples’ lives while you were serving in Iraq.”
His face freezes, hardens, and I instantly know I’ve said the wrong thing. As I’m quickly discovering, it’s like treading land mines talking to Nathan.
For a long moment he says nothing and I think that’s it, end of discussion, but then he says in a flat voice, “Yeah, and I also saw a lot of people die too.”
So he obviously doesn’t hold himself in the same hero status as Sol does.
“But you saved people’s lives,” I say, turning to him. “That has to count for something, surely?”
“Ask the ones I didn’t save.”
And all that does is remind me of Carrie. She was someone he didn’t save. If only that Vârcolac had fed on me first, killed me first, then it would be Carrie sitting here having this conversation with Nathan, not me. And I wish more than anything it were that way. Not that I would ever want to condemn her to a life of this - but rather that than gone.
“Why did you save me that night?” The words are out before I can even consider them.
Nathan slams on the breaks, skidding us to a sudden halt. “Why all the questions?” He turns his hard eyes onto me.
Without warning, my hackles rise. I don’t know why but I have this sudden urge to pick a fight with him. I’ve gone from cold to hot in the space of five seconds and I have absolutely no idea where it’s coming from.
I try to rein myself in. “I don’t know.” I shake my head. “I guess I just wanted to get to know you.” And I leave out the part about saving my life.
His eyes narrow on me. “Why?”
“Does there have to be a reason?”
He looks at me with a ‘yes’ face.
Losing all my resolve, I throw my hands up in the air. “I guess I just thought it was the polite thing to do considering I currently live in your house. God, I was just trying to make conversation!”
“Try the weather next time.” He gives me one last piercing stare, looks straight ahead out through the windscreen, and puts his hands back around the steering wheel.
I’m so angry I can barely breathe. My chest is pumping up and down and my heart is just about ready to explode. “Why did you save me?” I ask him bluntly.
I see the whites of his knuckles as his hands tighten around the steering wheel. “I didn’t expect you to live.”
And that just pisses me off even more than I already was. It’s not like I haven’t heard that from him before. “Yeah, but that’s not really answering my question is it? If anything it just highlights my point!” I spin around in my seat to face him. “You thought I’d die anyway so why put your life at risk to save someone who in your mind was as good a
s dead? I just don’t get it!”
“Do you have to?”
“Yes!” I cry.
“Why?” He looks at me angrily. “Just why is it so fucking important you know?”
“Because I need to understand why I’m still here and Carrie’s not!” The sound of my screaming voice quickly fades away and all that’s left is a tense silence that even the music can’t fill.
After a moment, he shakes his head and says in a quiet voice, “I don’t know.” He genuinely looks and sounds like he doesn’t, like it’s still a mystery even to him, but I don’t believe it. “I guess it’s just not in me to walk away. It’s not who I am. And when I heard your screams, I became a part of it whether I liked it or not. I guess I just lucked out that night.”
And there it is. He just can’t help himself.
Tears sting my eyes at his careless remark over the event that changed my life forever. “Do you enjoy being a bastard?” I ask in a flat voice.
“It can have its upsides.” He shrugs, casting an unemotional glance my way.
Then the tears spill. I’ve heard enough. Fuck him.
I get out and slam the door so hard it shakes the whole car. I start to walk quickly back up the track in the direction of the house.
“Where are you going?” Nathan calls out. He’s out of the car now, I hear his door open.
“As far away from you as possible!” I yell back at him. I wipe the tears from my eyes. I hate that he can upset me like this.
He jogs up alongside me, passing me by and stops in front of me, forcing me to an abrupt halt.
“Alex?”
I refuse to look at him and just stare down at the muddy ground beneath my feet.
I hear him sigh. “Look, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”
But I don’t believe his apology for one second. “You really lack sincerity,” I say coldly.
I move to go around him but he steps in front of me again, stopping me. He takes hold of me by my arms. “I am sorry, really.”
But I can’t hear him anymore because the feel of his hands on my skin is like I’m being blasted by ten thousand volts. It’s the most intense sensation I’ve ever felt.