Fairytale Come Alive (47 page)

Prentice walked right up to her, cupped the back of her head in his hand and touched his lips to hers.

“Sort the drawers, will you, baby? I’m rubbish at that shit.”

Then he walked out as Bella gazed after him mutely.

Fiona giggled again.

Bella stood there a long time, staring at the bed.

She was still standing there after Prentice returned (twice), hands full of her things from the guest bathroom and he put them in her new bathroom.

His last trip, he got close, slid a hand along the small of her back and bent to her ear, “Baby. You need to sort it. Now. We’re going to the beach.”

She stared at him stupidly.

Then she repeated, “The beach?”

“Aye,” he looked at the bed, then at her, “or do you want to leave it until we get home?”

That
woke her up and she shook her head wildly.

He grinned, gave her waist a squeeze and left the room.

Bella got busy and sorted the drawers. Then she made the bed. Then she went into the closet and sorted the mess Prentice had made of her hanging clothes.

Most of this time, Fiona giggled.

Bella and Sally packed a lunch and they went to the beach.

At the beach, Sally behaved like she always behaved even though Prentice took the children to the beach often both when Fiona was alive and after she died. In other words, like she’d been living in a cell her entire life and was only going to be let out for that one glorious day.

Bella kept up with her, as well as sat with Jason who’d brought along Fiona’s guitar and Fiona could say (with some pride) that she gave her son more than his hair, he was getting very good with the guitar and, the way he practiced (which was all the time, just like Fiona had) he was going to be great, and taught him some more chords.

At Jason’s insistence, Bella also played while Prentice and the kids watched. She was nervous and it took her time to settle in but, once she did, it was good.

Prentice was impressed and didn’t hide it.

Jason just smiled.

Bella, it was clear to see, was both pleased and embarrassed by the male Camerons’ reactions.

Sally was adamant that she was getting her
own
guitar and Bella was going to teach her to play it when she got her cast off.

They had lunch. They horsed around. They walked the beach and its cliff path, Prentice and Bella hand-in-hand, Jason going ahead on his own, Sally running back and forth, tiring herself out (Fiona’s daughter would sleep like a log that night, for certain).

They went home and it was all a go, sorting the spent picnic, making dinner, getting ready for school the next day as Sally was returning after her accident.

Bella had no time to think, she was kept busy all day.

Prentice, Fiona thought, was a genius.

Sally crashed within Bella reading two pages of her book.

Jason didn’t long follow.

Prentice was walking down the stairs after checking on the children when it happened.

Fiona was floating by Bella as she tiredly made herself some nighttime herbal tea.

She had her hand curled around the mug, holding the teabag string against the side, when she missed the mug and poured boiling water over her hand. She cried out in pain and set the kettle down with a clatter.

Prentice was there in a trice.

He got close. “Jesus, baby, what’d you do?”

“I poured…” she stopped and cried, “
Ouch!
”

“Get to the sink,” Prentice ordered, hustling her to the sink, he shoved her hand under and turned on the cold tap.

She held her hand under the tap as Prentice went to get ice. He returned and, front to her back, he reached his arms around her and held the ice to the angry red marks on Bella’s hand under the tap.

Fiona hovered close.

With his head dipped so his cheek was close to hers, he moved the ice around her fingers and whispered, “The burn is still working through, baby, we need to stop it. The ice won’t feel good but we need to keep it on there.”

“Okay,” Bella whispered back, her voice pinched with pain.

It took awhile before he noticed. The angry red marks were taking his attention from the calloused white marks in her palms.

But he noticed.

And Fiona noticed when he noticed because she watched as his body grew completely still.

Bella, tired and mind fogged with the pain, didn’t notice. He had actually uncurled her fingers with his thumb and tipped her palm up before Bella realized what he was about.

When he saw the marks, Prentice’s inhalation was a sharp hiss.

Instantly, Bella curled her hand in a fist and her body jerked to the side, seeking escape.

She was in a disadvantageous position with his arms around her, his body close; she had no hope of getting away.

And she didn’t.

He stepped in, pinning her against the sink, his arms locking at her sides, his thumb worked her fingers to open her fist.

Her body gave in but her hand resisted. The burn meant this caused undue pain. When she emitted a muted whimper, Prentice stopped.

Fiona would have held her breath if she had any.

Instead, she did the only thing she could do.

She hovered.

His voice was soft when he ordered, “Show me.”

Bella’s reply was immediate, “Step back.”

“Show me, baby.”

Her hand still a fist, she said in a tone that, though it was firm, fear threaded through it, “Prentice… step…
back!
”

His other hand circled her other wrist, he pulled both her fisted hands in front of them and his voice was an absolute, wretched ache when he demanded, “Show me.”

Fiona watched the tears hit Bella’s eyes and tremble at their edges.

“I don’t want you to see,” she whispered, her tone just as heartbreaking.

“Show me.”

“You’ll think –”

“Show me, Elle.”

“But –”

His hands at her wrists gave hers a gentle shake and he whispered, “Show me, baby.”

She closed her eyes and Fiona saw the tears drop silently down her cheeks.

Then she opened them
and
her fists and Fiona saw she held her breath.

Prentice stared at her hands.

Then his jaw got tight and
he
closed
his
eyes.

When he opened them, he ran his thumbs gently along the white marks and muttered tenderly, “Baby.”

Bella’s head dropped forward in a sad expression of humiliation and defeat.

Prentice’s mouth went to her ear.

“You didn’t have these before,” he whispered but she didn’t reply. “Elle, answer me. You didn’t have these twenty years ago. Please, tell me I didn’t fucking miss
this
.”

“I didn’t have them,” she replied to the sink. “I started to…” she stopped. “Later. After you,” she drew in a breath and whispered, “it started when I lost you.”

Fiona didn’t know if that was what he wanted to hear or not and she couldn’t tell because he shoved his face in her neck and, taking her hands with his still at her wrists, he wrapped his arms tightly around her middle.

Bella’s head came up and Fiona could see she was still crying.

“They’re mine,” Prentice said to her neck.

Bella’s body twitched and her face went blank.

“What?” she breathed.

His mouth went back to her ear and his voice was tortured when he said, “They’re mine. My responsibility.”

Fiona felt a heavy weight hit her ghostly chest.

Bella felt the same. Fiona could see it with a look.

“What do you mean?” Bella whispered.

“You’d no’ have these marks, you’d no’ carry this pain if I’d no’ walked out of that
fucking
room.”

“Prentice, you can’t –”

She stopped speaking when he shook her with his hands at her wrists.

“You’d
no’,
” he growled fiercely.

“Pren,” she whispered softly.

“No.”

“I can’t have you thinking –”

“No.”

“Pren, please.”

“No. There would be no dreams, I’d have seen to that. Your father would no’ be in our lives. And you’d have had your fucking family, I would see to that too. I don’t give a fuck if we adopted or I had to buy you a family. I would have done it, whatever you wanted, to make you happy. Whatever you wanted, Elle. Anything. I’d have done whatever it took in order to give it to you. That’s how much I loved you.”

“Stop talking.”

“But I didn’t, I walked out of that room.”

“Prentice, stop talking.”

“I turned around and walked away. I didn’t even fucking call you.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No?”

“I’m weak,” she whispered.

Prentice was silent a moment before he laughed. It was an ugly noise and it hurt Fiona’s ghostly ears.

Bella felt the same.

Her pale face went ashen and, with a visible effort, she pulled free of his hands, turned off the tap, twisted in his arms and put her hands on his chest.

“It’s true, Prentice, I’m weak. I always have been,” she admitted this like it was a dirty little secret.

“He beat you to keep you from me,” Prentice countered. “What’s my excuse?”

Her head jerked and she asked, “Pardon?”

“You’re father hit you to control you. Your behavior wasn’t weak, it was survival. I had a good life, I’d never experienced that, no one ever treated me that way. What excuse do I have that I didn’t go after you? Wounded ego?”

Bella lifted her hands to either side of his neck and held on tight.

“Stop doing this. There’s no purpose.”

“No purpose?” he clipped. “If you stay, in a week, a month, ten years, it will eventually sink in that I left you to that. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t believe in you. What do I do when the bitterness creeps in, Elle, and you can’t bear to be with me anymore? What do I do?”

Her fingers curled into his neck but he didn’t give her the opportunity to reply.

“You needed me to protect you and I didn’t. I left you to that,” he continued, his hands came to hers at his neck and he pulled them away, his thumbs sliding along her palms, he went on, “And it was so bad, you harmed yourself because of it.”

She winced but recovered quickly and assured him, “I survived.”

He gave a short, unamused laugh. “Aye. You survived. But life isn’t survival, Elle, life is beautiful.”

She shook her head and said softly, “Not for everyone. Not for a lot of people, Pren, just for those fortunate few.”

Fiona watched as Prentice’s mouth got tight at her words but he replied, “True enough. But
you
deserve a beautiful life and
I
would have given it to you if I hadn’t given up, believed you’d played me, stopped believing in you, stopped believing in
us
.”

Fiona saw Bella was no longer listening.

Her eyes had grown unfocused.

Prentice saw it too.

He was losing her.

Do something!
Fiona shouted.

“Elle,” he called but she didn’t reply. His hands curled into hers and gave them a gentle jerk as he repeated, “Elle.”

She shook her head as if clearing it and her eyes refocused.

“You said in ten years –” Bella whispered.

“Aye,” Prentice interrupted, his tone harsh. “Ten years, twenty years, fifty years. Who gives a fuck if, in the end, it might mean I lose you again.”

“Fifty years?” she breathed.

Fiona knew with a look that Prentice wanted to stick with the matter at hand and was losing patience at her shift. “Elle, we –”

Bella interrupted him, asking incredulously, “You want me here for fifty years?”

Now Fiona knew that Prentice was getting annoyed. “Aye, we established that last night.”

“Why?” Bella asked suddenly, her voice somehow both breathy and sharp.

Prentice’s brows drew together. “Why what?”

“Why do you want me here?”

“Elle…” Yes, definitely impatient, Fiona knew this because he released her but leaned into her, resting a hand on the edge of the sink, he tore the other through his hair.

“Tell me.” Her voice was getting sharper, colder. “Tell me why you want me here. I want to know.”

“Elle –”

“
Why?
” Bella’s voice was a lash and her body had grown solid.

Prentice stared at her, his impatience vanishing, understanding dawning.

Fiona knew they were in trouble.

Prentice was
not
a man prone to flowery words. In fact, the words she’d heard him say about her the night before on the balcony (they still made her ghostly belly melt) were the most flowery she’d ever had from him.