Amber Frost (36 page)

“Of course, Mother,” I agreed placatingly. I wasn’t certain yet if I was lying or not. I glanced down at my plate distractedly, pushing my food around with my fork. I was surprised to find I’d been given two whole, fried eggs instead of my usual one that I was allotted on weekends. “I think I may have been served the wrong plate, I have two eggs,” I said quietly, looking to my mother questioningly. She quickly glanced about the table at each of our plates and then hollered for Eliza.

“Eliza! Come here at once,” she snapped, glaring fiercely at the door that led into the kitchen. Surprisingly, Walter had a bemused smile on his face as he looked down the table. Moments later Eliza hurried into the room, a glean of nervous sweat had already sprouted on her round cheeks.

“What’s the matter, Ms?” she asked, her expression one of concern and apprehension.

“What is the meaning of this? Why have you served double portions of eggs to all of us?” my Mother demanded, gesturing angrily to our plates as she spoke. It was then that I noticed the four yellow yolks on my Mother’s plate. I assumed Walter had been served the same but choose not to look his way again to confirm my suspicions.

“Oh – that.” Eliza sounded relieved but her expression was uncertain still. “All the eggs in the carton had double-yolks,” she explained, her forehead crinkling into a puzzled frown. “Strange though, I could have sworn the ones I used in the muffin batter this morning had single yolks but they came from the same carton. We must have got doubles accidentally.”

“Why would you buy double-yolked eggs?” my mother asked scathingly. “You know how weight-conscious our family is – did you want to sabotage our healthy lifestyle?”

“No, of course not. I didn’t buy the eggs. Walter bought them the other day – farm fresh and free range, just as you like.” My mother turned to Walter upon hearing this and I reluctantly followed her gaze, curious to see his reaction. It was not what I expected; he seemed lost in thought, his thick, dark brows pulled down into a frown.

“Walter, where
did
you get these eggs?” my mother demanded, her tone less harsh now.

“I bought them at a roadside stand. The young man said they were from his family’s farm. He didn’t mention they were double-yolked. How strange,” he murmured distractedly.

“Yes, strange,” my mother agreed, dismissing the matter. She waved Eliza out with a flip of her hand. “Do try to be more careful, Walter,” she lightly chastised.

“Oh, I shall.” His black eyes gleamed mysteriously as he spoke.

“I’m sure you’ll make the right choice and leave that second yolk alone, dear,” my mother told me, fixing me with a sharp, scrutinizing, look.

“Yes, Mother,” I answered automatically. My thoughts were beginning to fog over again as the images from last night’s dream floated back to me. My hand idly wandered up to my amber pendant as I daydreamed.

“Grace?” Walter’s demanding, oily voice pushed through my thoughts, pulling me back to the present. My hand slipped from my necklace as I reluctantly looked down the table to find his narrowed, beady eyes speculatively studying me; a shiver ran down my spine. “Let me see that necklace you’re wearing,” he requested, an unexpected confidence to the way he spoke. He fixed me with a hard, level stare, every inch of him radiating his expectation. I found myself unable to immediately respond. My head was beginning to spin, my thoughts suddenly clouded and unclear again as I played with a loose thread on the tablecloth.

“Why?” I managed to ask, struggling to think coherently through my confusion.

“I don’t want to explain myself to you,” he rudely retorted. He held out his hand impatiently, glaring down his crooked nose at me. “I want your necklace – now.” My mother paid no notice to this unusual exchange. She continued to nibble at her breakfast, her attention obviously far away.

My hand started to creep up to my neck again, almost of its own accord. My fingers wrapped around the teardrop, amber pendant and its warmth unexpectedly flared in my palm. Memories from my dreams came flashing back to me, sharp and demanding; Seamus’s dark, beautiful eyes filled with an unspeakable pain, my hand pressing against his, reaching out to him one last time, a book full of strangely familiar drawings and designs with the black, twisted pattern dominating over it all, coiling around my mind and weaving itself through my soul…

“No!” I gasped. At the sound of my own voice I snapped back to the present, finding myself staring into Walter’s dark, incredulous eyes. “No,” I repeated, my voice gaining strength. “The necklace is mine – I won’t let you touch it.” There was a quiet power behind my words that reflected the sudden strength that was slowly building within me. My necklace burned against my skin.

The room seemed to suddenly darken as the bright morning sun disappeared behind a cloud. My mother sipped at her coffee, oblivious still to the tense atmosphere. Walter glanced to her as I did and her eyes met his, a small smile upon her thin lips. She turned to look at me with a hard, unwavering stare. Her smile disappeared.

“Grace, don’t be ridiculous. Give Walter the necklace,” she instructed impatiently.

I hesitated. I knew I should obey my mother, I knew I shouldn’t upset her, that I must be pleasant to Walter and keep the peace. But something deep within me had sparked to life, a forgotten strength, a distant voice that told me ‘no’. I mustn’t let them have the necklace – it
belonged
to me.

I struggled silently with my inner turmoil; my hands were starting to shake. The room seemed to become even darker and colder as my mother and Walter both fixed me with their icy, hard glares.

“Master Simons is here to see Miss Grace,” Eliza announced, bursting in upon the strange scene. The room seemed to brighten at she entered, the sun reappearing and the heavy tension that had hung in the air instantly evaporating, only a faint shadow of it remained. I gave my head a little shake as I released my amber pendant. The heat from my necklace had abruptly vanished along with my sudden sense of purpose. I started to wonder if I had imagined the whole thing? Was I becoming so spacey that my daydreams were starting to distort my perception of reality? I certainly hoped not.

“Have him wait on the verandah,” my mother quickly instructed. “You are excused, Grace. You mustn’t keep Clarke waiting.” I nodded my agreement, hoping my relief to be dismissed wasn’t too obvious. I pointedly didn’t look at Walter as I left but I could feel his hard black eyes on me as I hurried from the room.

The verandah was just outside our casual sitting room where my parents had often entertained guests. The French doors stood open, allowing the fresh morning breeze to drift into the room, stirring the curtains. I froze mid-step as a familiar, light, lavender scent drifted past on a current of warm air. Just a dream, I told myself again, just a dream. I firmly pushed the memory of the dream aside, trying my very best to appear focused and present for Clarke. He stood waiting for me in a patch of golden sunlight, the warm rays picking out lighter tones in his dark hair. He’s so handsome – I’m very lucky, I told myself. But in the back of my mind, a small voice asked why I had to keep reminding myself of this? I pushed the voice away, silencing it before it became any louder.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Clarke greeted me with a pleased smile. He held his arms out as I skipped over to him. I lightly embraced him, graciously allowing him to kiss my lips.

“Good morning,” I answered, hoping my smile didn’t appear as false as it felt. Why was everything so difficult lately?

“The garden looks quite nice,” Clarke complimented, his eyes drifting away from admiring me to the beautiful flower beds and landscaped lawn. “It was a good idea of Walter’s to replace one of the cleaning staff with a gardener. He’s been doing a good job.”

“It was my father’s idea,” I contradicted softly, feeling slightly defensive. I didn’t talk to my father much these days, it upset my mother that I still spoke to him at all. He was often busy establishing his new life in Toronto anyway; I didn’t think he really minded when I forgot to call. I probably spoke with him more now than I had when he lived at home though, so that was something at least. I still felt a measure of loyalty towards him and a small amount of affection. I was glad he was happy; I couldn’t begrudge him that. Didn’t everyone deserve to be happy? I thought wistfully.

“Grace? Are you listening to me?” Clarke demanded. I quickly refocused my attention, trying to recall what he had just said.

“Yes, sorry,” I apologized, dropping my gaze as if I were ashamed, though really I worried that he might see the lie in my eyes. “You said you had something for me?” I remembered, his last words floating up through my hazy memory.

“Yes, I do.” The disapproving frown quickly left his face as he remembered, an excited smile taking its place. “I think you’re really going to like this,” he told me animatedly and despite myself, I felt a hint of curiosity. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our dilemma for next year.” I stared at him blankly. “About our living arrangements,” he reminded me, obviously irritated that I hadn’t understood.

“Oh, yes, of course.” I was rapidly losing interest. This was a conversation we’d had many times but it was one issue I wasn’t prepared to budge on. I would not live with Clarke until he was my husband; though my family wasn’t all that religious and my parents would be unlikely to object (especially because it was Clarke
Simons
), it was a moral that
I
was not about to compromise.

“I’ve come up with a solution,” he pronounced proudly. I tried not to appear skeptical as I politely waited for him to continue. He scowled briefly at my lack of enthusiasm. “I’ve already proposed the idea to your mother, so you needn’t worry about gaining her approval. You see… I remembered that ring you used to wear and I thought…” he paused while he pulled a small ring box out of his pocket. My jaw fell open as he held the box open to me, a beautiful white gold ring with a huge solitaire diamond set in it, sparkled under the morning sun.

“It’s not an engagement ring,” he quickly assured me. “It’s a promise ring. A promise that I will marry you once we’ve both graduated from university but until then, it’s a promissory engagement – so that you can move in with me and be confident of my most noble intentions. So that we can take our physical relationship to the next level with no compromise on your part,” he gallantly assured me. I fought the sudden strange impulse to roll my eyes. Before I could speak though, Clarke dropped down onto one knee, the ring box held out towards me as his next words came out in an awkward rush, the words flowing rapidly and blending together without pause.

“Gracelynn Stevenson, will you accept my promise ring?” he formally asked.

My breath escaped my lips in a shocked gasp as I heard him say my name, my full and true name.
Gracelynn Stevenson
. I heard another voice whisper the words, a soft, beautiful, musical voice of my memories that spoke to my very heart and soul. And with the forgotten sound, a thousand beautiful and unbelievable memories were wrenched up from the furthest corners of my mind, filling my brain, flooding my eyes, cascading down upon me.

I barely heard Clarke’s shocked and concerned cry as I fell down hard onto my knees. I clutched my head between my hands, knotting my fingers in my hair as my head began throbbing with pain. I felt like my skull was about to split open as the memories came rushing back to me. My heart was aching badly too – swelling with love and tearing apart all over again as I remembered. I let out an anguished sob as the endless memories came crashing down; they flooded my mind, terrifying me as they nearly swept my memory of myself away but somehow I managed to hold on, to remember who I was.

And I remembered
everything
.

“Grace! Grace! Can you hear me?” Clarke demanded, his fear and apprehension clear in his voice. I heard footsteps rapidly approaching, probably alerted by Clarke’s cries of alarm or my previous anguished screams. I was silent now.

I slowly opened my eyes, pushing myself up off the ground. I had cut and bruised myself when I fell but I barely felt the pain – it was distant, faint, hardly comparable to the aching wound in my heart and the steadily growing anger and outrage of my soul.

“Grace, you’re bleeding!” Clarke exclaimed, shrinking back from me in disgust. I glared at him as I roughly wiped the thin trickle of blood that crept from my nose on the back of my hand. I had probably only managed to smear it more; I didn’t care, a little blood was the least of my concerns. Now that the torturous pain in my head had faded to a nauseating, stabbing ache, I struggled to get my balance.

“What happened?” my mother demanded as she burst out the French doors with Walter’s dark shadow in her wake. Clarke reached out a hand to help me but I roughly shook him off, lurching unsteadily as I stepped back from him.

“I was giving Grace the ring and… well, I think she had a seizure,” Clarke explained uncertainly. “She was thrashing about on the ground and she kept screaming – and then suddenly she stopped.” It was only then that I noticed the paleness to his face and the slight tremor to his voice; I must have really scared him – not that it mattered.

“We should call an ambulance,” Walter immediately interjected, already moving back towards the sitting room doors.

“No.” My voice came out low but clear. The strong note of authority that rang in my words surprised even me. All of their heads snapped around in my direction; Clarke looked surprised, my mother annoyed and Walter suspicious.

“I don’t need an ambulance, I’m fine. I fainted – that’s all,” I lied, my voice firm. My mother looked doubtful still and Walter’s eyes narrowed further, Clarke though, looked relieved and a little amused.

“Really, Grace, the diamond’s not quite big enough to faint over,” he told me patronizingly. “I’ll replace it with a much larger one after we graduate from UBC, once our engagement’s official,” he promised. My mother practically glowed with self-satisfaction upon hearing these words, even Walter’s suspicious glare faded into a deprecating sneer.

“That won’t be necessary, Clarke – I don’t accept,” I told him politely but brusquely as I started to walk away. I didn’t have time for this and I certainly didn’t have the patience to entertain this ridiculous idea any further. My pronouncement was met with shocked silence. My mother recovered first.

“Grace Lynn Stevenson, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” she hissed as she roughly grabbed at my arm when I tried to march past her. I quickly and easily shook her off.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” I warned her, my voice sounded dark and dangerous. It took only one look to make her back down. I was on the edge of losing control, the anger that had been slowly building inside me was rapidly spreading to become a raging inferno. I didn’t need much excuse to release my pent up rage; it glowed in my eyes, the flames flickered on my tongue. My mother took another quick step back from me, her eyes wide and unexpectedly fearful.

“Grace? Where are you going?” Clarke called as I continued to walk away.

“Goodbye, Clarke,” I answered over my shoulder, my voice hard and cold.

“Stop her!” I heard Walter cry out.

“Why don’t
you
do something?” my mother snapped back.

“I can’t; he protects her from me. You’ve got to stop her – she’s going to go back to
him
. She’ll ruin us all!” he declared, a strange edge of panicked desperation to his voice. I didn’t hear my mother’s response, I certainly wasn’t about to wait for it. I simply strode out of my mother’s house, one thought first and foremost in my mind to the point of excluding all else. Sebastian – I had to see Sebastian.

I drove to the Jenson’s at nearly double the legal speed limit. There was no possibility I could have crashed; the heightened detail with which I saw the world now that the confused fog had lifted from my mind was remarkable. I felt I could see every blade of green summer grass that I passed, each individual leaf on every tree, every petal on every flower, each tiny pebble on the wave-crashed beach. My anger seemed to only add to my intense, vivid awareness of my surroundings. It nearly consumed me as I allowed it to burn, wild and rampant through my being as I raced down the peaceful, morning streets towards the Jenson’s house.

His motorcycle was parked in front of the house in the center of the driveway. The saddlebags that were strapped to it bulged heavily, a bedroll tightly bound and secured just behind the seat. So he really had meant to leave, to runaway and abandon me here in this upper-class nightmare. I felt the sudden childish impulse to step on the gas and crush his shiny motorcycle between my Mini’s front bumper and the Jensons’ garage door. I resisted the urge and settled for slamming on my brakes, my car lurching to a violently satisfying stop only inches from Sebastian’s bike.

I was surprised by the sudden calm focus that settled over me as I stepped out of my car and firmly slammed the door shut. I marched up to the Jensons’ front door, my anger reined in and tentatively under control as I strode over the paving stone path.

The front door swung open before I reached it, a surprised and uncertain look on Mr. Jenson’s face as he took in my expression. I paused on the front step, fixing him with my fiery, determined ice-blue gaze. He sighed, his expression taking on a familiar, weary expression.

“He’s in his room,” he told me as he stepped aside, allowing me to enter. I gave him one quick nod of thanks and then quickly stepped past him, taking the stairs two at a time as I zeroed in on my goal. My heart was starting to accelerate wildly now, my breath came quickly and unsteadily as I was overwhelmed by emotions as I neared his bedroom door. I paused for only a second to take a quick, steadying breath before throwing open the door and storming into his room.

Sebastian looked up as soon as I entered. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, apparently lost in thought. A hundred different emotions flickered across his face as I marched up to him, my eyes blazing, my hands trembling in anger as I came to stand before him. He watched me silently and uncertainly, nearly holding his breath as he waited for me to speak. And now that I was finally there, the source of my burning rage finally within my grasp, I could no longer find any words that might even come close to expressing how I felt. He watched me with sad eyes, the ancient wisdom and patience in them infuriatingly peaceful and accepting.

“How could you?” I hissed, angry tears filling my eyes as I spoke. I hadn’t been planning on crying, I certainly didn’t want to confront him in tears but I couldn’t help it. My emotions overpowered me so strongly that I trembled from the effort to speak, to breathe.

My hurt and accusing words immediately broke through his controlled mask. I could see it in his eyes – his pain, his regret, his broken-hearted sorrow. He opened his mouth to speak, his hand lifting from his side as he began to reach for me. I silenced him with one sharp look, allowing my pained fury to flare in my eyes. I was nowhere near finished yet.

“I understand why you did it, I know what you were thinking – but you were
wrong
,” I told him, my voice dark and threatening once more, the sound of it scared even me. He watched me carefully as I spoke, the look of tender concern in his eyes only increasing as he heard my bitter, angry words. “I have never been so angry with anyone in my life, in my whole existence!” My hands trembled with rage, emphasizing the words as I spoke them. “I’m not certain how I can ever forgive you for this, Sebastian. It’s a good thing that you’ll have the rest of eternity to figure out how you can re-earn my trust,” I told him levelly as I determinedly reached for his hand. In one quick gesture I tugged the ring I had once worn off of his finger and jammed it back onto the fourth finger on my left hand where it fit snuggly beneath the knuckle. For a split-second he appeared to be too stunned to speak or move.

“Gracelynn… don’t. I can’t ask you to sacrifice any more for me,” Sebastian quietly begged, reaching to take his ring back as soon as he realized what I’d done. The soft pain in his voice stabbed at my heart. I roughly shoved his hand away, glaring down at him.

“No. You don’t have any right to ask more of me,” I agreed, my voice was softer now though, calmer. “This is what I want Sebastian, this is my choice. Don’t you dare try to take another choice away from me.” I felt my eyes and necklace simultaneously blaze as I spoke. Sebastian hesitated, weighing a decision in his dark and beautiful eyes.

“It didn’t work before, you weren’t happy,” he pointed out. But I could hear in his voice how badly he wanted this. I could nearly feel the strength of his desire to believe me.

“You took the choice away from me before but this is on my terms now. This is my decision and you
will
respect it.” We locked gazes and for once I was unable to even guess at his thoughts. Eventually he gave a small, barely discernible nod.

“This shouldn’t even be possible – I can’t believe I wanted for this to happen,” he told me numbly, his voice tired. Part of me was disappointed that his first words weren’t to beg for my forgiveness or to rejoice in our reunion. I was also vaguely pleased that he didn’t waste his breath on apologizes that I couldn’t possibly accept – yet. At least he respected the full scope of my outrage.

“
I
wanted it,” I told him levelly. “I’ve been trying to remember you every moment since you made me forget. Do you have any idea how confusing, how stressful and tormenting it is to try so desperately to remember something when you don’t even know what it is you forgot?” I demanded heatedly. He raised an eyebrow at me, a bare hint of amusement registering on his face.

“I do,” he answered calmly. “Do you have any idea how hard it was for me to want what was best for you enough to be able to make you forget? To watch as the woman I love more than my own soul was with someone else – someone I despised, someone whose jealous stupidity almost resulted in me being beaten to death, but someone who is still a better choice, a better man than me? Can you imagine, Gracelynn?” He spoke softly and evenly still, the heavy emotion behind his words obvious in the weight in his eyes, the quiet pain flowing from his heart. Abruptly my anger and outrage left me; it was too difficult to see him in pain, no matter how angry I should be.

“I can’t,” I admitted quietly. The silence and tension grew between us as we stared sadly into one another’s eyes, trying to read the other’s thoughts. We’d never fought before, it didn’t feel right. I had to fight the strong urge to apologize, to beg for
his
forgiveness.

“Gracelynn,” he whispered as he rose to his feet. He took a step towards me, reaching for me with a trembling hand. It took all of my self-control not to throw myself into his arms and bury my head against his chest. “I can’t even begin to describe how much I’ve missed you. I’m so –”

“Stop.” My voice cracked like a whip, the power behind that one word humming in the air between us. Sebastian froze in his tracks. A glimmer of pain washed through his eyes that was quickly replaced with acceptance. He knew he deserved my anger. I wasn’t quite as strong as I had hoped. My resolve began to weaken the moment I saw that my rejection had hurt him. I quickly turned away from him, moving over to the side of his room to stare, sadly, out the window. I desperately tried to remind myself how badly he had hurt me, how he had violated my trust, stolen my memories and nearly left me forever. How could he have ever thought I’d be better off? How could I have ever thought the right thing to do was to leave him?

“How much do you remember?” His quiet low voice came from behind me. I welcomed the distraction from my entangled, contradictory emotions and thoughts. I slowly turned back around to face him.

“Everything.”

He nodded, as if this were to be expected. His gaze dropped to his bedroom floor as he carefully considered his next words before he spoke. I had the distinct impression that he’d changed what he had been about to say as he opened his mouth.

“How?” was all he asked, his voice sad but curious. I didn’t owe him any answers but I felt the need to explain myself, to speak the words out loud so that we both might understand.

“I’ve been trying to remember all along. I felt so strange, so disoriented and confused all the time. I always knew something was wrong,” I told him. Though I spoke quietly, there was an obvious spark to my words, a glimmer of my anger returning, a whisper of my hurt, betrayed heart. “And then combined with the strange dreams and resulting lack of sleep… I was starting to feel like I was losing my mind.”

“Dreams?” Sebastian interrupted, his eyes sharp and focused.

“I think I was having dreams like yours – glimpses of memories, hints of what I’d forgotten. I had nightmares too. There was one in particular that I dreamt over and over again. It was so strange… I was me, but I wasn’t me. I had a different voice, different skin, different hands – I had my necklace. And… I think I was dying. I think you were in that dream too, though I couldn’t make the connection until I remembered you. Your name was different though; I called you Seamus.” A strange look passed over Sebastian’s face as I said the name, a flicker of recognition in his eyes.

“Seamus,” he repeated, his eyes shifting in and out of focus with his thoughts. “That name speaks to me… it’s… familiar,” he whispered. His eyes refocused on my face, his expression incredulous, excited and slightly afraid. “Gracelynn, I think I can explain what happened, though believe me, I never expected this. I may have been able to erase the memories from your brain but that didn’t mean there weren’t marks left on your soul. Your soul was remembering, Gracelynn, remembering this life and others past. We did meet before – I knew it,” he declared triumphant and excited. For a moment I was caught up in his excitement, forgetting but not forgiving what he had done.