“Earth to Belle, come in Belle,” Mom called and Belle turned to see Gram at her side, peering out the window.
“She’s mooning over Jack,” Gram informed Mom.
“Lots to moon over,” Mom commented. “The man’s got a fantastic behind.”
Gram turned from the window, looked at Mom and shared, “I like his hands.”
Mom grinned. “Yeah, he’s got great hands. And, from Belle’s look this afternoon, I’m guessing he knows how to use them.”
“Mom!” Belle snapped as she walked from the window and threw herself on the bed in front of her mother.
She rolled to her back and her mother leaned over her. “It’s just my way of saying I’m happy for you, honeypot.”
Belle sighed and asked, “Can we not talk about Jack’s hands?”
“Okay,” Mom agreed happily. “Let’s talk about his behind. That’s a much better subject.”
Belle rolled her eyes.
“Or his eyes. That man has unbelievable eyes,” Gram noted as she joined them on the bed. “I was convinced they were contacts when I first met him but I don’t think they are.”
“They’re not,” Belle informed her, Gram smiled and Mom giggled.
Then Gram said gently, “I think you found yourself a good one this time, my sweet.”
Belle was beginning to think her grandmother wasn’t wrong.
And this budding knowledge scared the dickens out of her.
Therefore, she broadened her limits on the evening’s subject matter. “Can we not talk about Jack, at all?”
“Sorry, baby, can’t do that. That’s why we called you in here,” Mom told her.
Belle rolled to her side and crooked her elbow, putting her head in her hand and looking at her Mom who was lounged the same way as Belle. Then she looked at her Gram who was leaning back against the pillows.
“Does he know about Calvin?” Gram enquired and Belle closed her eyes, hating the idea of thinking of Calvin and Jack in the same thought.
When she opened her eyes again, she answered, “No.”
“You can’t tell him,” Mom said.
“You must tell him,” Gram said at the same time.
Mom turned to Gram and asked, “What?”
At the same time Gram turned to Mom and asked, “What are you thinking?”
“She can’t tell him,” Mom reiterated.
“Why on earth not?” Gram queried.
“Cast your mind back to this afternoon, Mom, when Jack put us both in our place,” Mom demanded. “In case you didn’t get it from that, not to mention about half a dozen other examples I could give you, Jack’s a wee bit protective of Belle. If he learns what Calvin did to her, he’ll go ballistic. He might even spontaneously combust!”
Belle winced at the idea of Jack spontaneously combusting however she had to admit, the very idea of Jack finding out about Calvin made her heart hurt.
Not only his reaction to this knowledge but what he might think of Belle knowing she’d made the choice of Calvin in the first place and let his abuse carry on for as long as it did.
He’d think she was an idiot and worse, a coward for not putting an end to it the minute it started.
“That may be so, Rachel, but it’s clear things are moving full steam ahead with Jack and Belle and he’s got the right to know,” Gram returned.
“Okay, I agree, just not now. We need to wait until after Belle releases the ghost children,” Mom replied.
“What?” Belle asked.
At the same time, Gram asked, “Why?”
Mom turned to Belle and declared, “Obviously, you have to release those children.”
Belle felt her lungs expand and it wasn’t a good feeling.
“Yes, that is obvious but I don’t understand why Jack needs to be kept in the dark about Calvin for her to do it,” Gram retorted before Belle had the chance to speak.
“First, if Jack knows Belle’s history, he’s going to cotton onto the fact that he shares Joshua Bennett’s characteristics just as Belle shares Brenna’s both of them exactly. Once he understands this, do you think Jack, for one instant, would allow Belle to lift even a finger to help those children?” Mom asked.
This was, unfortunately, true.
Who knew what Belle had to do to release Myrtle and Lewis?
It might be dangerous.
Jack would never agree to her doing anything dangerous.
He wouldn’t even let her take a walk on a rain slick coastal path, something she’d done hundreds of times. It was England. It was Cornwall. Rain slick coastal paths were the norm and Belle walked a lot.
“Hmm,” Gram muttered, which was her way of agreeing without actually having to agree.
Mom pressed her advantage and looked at Belle. “You can’t tell him.”
“I think,” Belle said softly. “That something is happening between Jack and me.”
Mom grinned and teased, “You think?”
Belle shook her head but went on to say, “Yes, Mom, I do. I also think it might not be a good idea to keep Jack in the dark about anything. He won’t like it.”
“Hmm,” Gram muttered again, this time more firmly non-stating her agreement.
“Not mentioning it is the same as lying to him. I kept the pregnancy from him and he wasn’t happy about it,” Belle reminded them.
“You can say that again,” Gram mumbled.
Rachel, however, was not deterred. “I saw those children today and, okay, they freaked me out. But once I knew their story, I thought about what I saw. The little girl gave me a wave and the boy was grinning at me. They seem sweet but it’s too sad for words that they’re stuck here. Something has to be done and we all know Jack will never agree to you doing it.”
This, too, was true.
“Let me think about it,” Belle suggested. “Maybe there’ll be a time when I can explain things to Jack and get him involved. Maybe I can talk him around. Maybe he’ll feel better about it if he has some control over the situation.”
“What if that time doesn’t come?” Gram asked.
Belle licked her lips and thought about the children she saw in the window.
Then she thought about the fact that they likely spent years in the castle with their still alive father. Watching him with his new family. Watching him grow old. Watching his new children thrive under his love and care. Then watching him die.
Then they were stuck here and alone with only themselves for company (and a few mortal friends along the way).
Belle looked at her Gram then her Mom. “If that time doesn’t come then we go it alone.”
Gram looked uncharacteristically uncertain.
Mom smiled.
“That’s decided then, we’ll get started,” Mom announced and Belle felt a feeling of foreboding.
She had no idea how to get started but she knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that her mother had a great number of ideas.
She also knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that Jack wouldn’t like a single one of them.
“We need to go back to Calvin,” Gram said and both Belle and her mother looked at her.
“Why?” Mom asked, her tone sharp, something which happened quite frequently during the rare times anyone mentioned her ex-husband’s name.
Gram’s eyes went to Belle. “You’ve been getting a lot of media coverage. Now you and Jack are getting a lot. Soon, people are going to understand this is not only serious, there’s a baby on the way. They’re going to go nuts. Calvin has had to have seen this but even if by some miracle he hasn’t, he will.”
Belle rolled to her back and pressed her fingers into her forehead.
Belle had been trying, and succeeding, in not thinking about this very thing.
She’d lived for months worried that Calvin would approach her after the news hit about what she did when that school bus went over the bridge.
At the time they’d been divorced for four years. She’d heard through friends he’d remarried. She hoped that he’d move
d on.
But he’d been outrageously possessive when they were married. If Belle even glanced at another man, Calvin would lose it and Belle would pay the price.
Belle had fretted that the media would find out about Calvin and Belle and feed on it like everything else.
This, fortunately and miraculously, did not happen.
Then Belle had fretted that her appearance in the news would remind Calvin of her existence and he’d re-enter her life. He’d done it before, trying to win her back before eventually giving up.
This, fortunately and also miraculously, didn’t happen either.
However, pictures of Belle and Jack kissing, Jack holding her close to his side, Jack pressing his forehead to hers, would wind Calvin up until he was out-of-control.
And, since it was Jack, it would be worse.
Jack was a better man than Calvin in a lot of ways (heck, in every way), many which Calvin would never know.
But the ones he would know, that Jack was richer than him, famous, more accomplished and far more handsome, would drive Calvin up the wall.
Calvin had spent years convincing Belle that she was lucky to have him, that she couldn’t dream of ever finding another man, that he’d gone slumming when he chose her.
The fact that Belle could catch the eye of a man far better than Calvin and the media rubbing his nose in it on a near day-to-day basis would drive Calvin over the brink.
He’d lose it and take it out on her.
Gram spoke again and Belle took her hands away from her face when she did. “You need be careful, my sweet.”
Belle turned her head to look at her grandmother and nodded.
“It’s a good thing you’re living here and Jack’s taking you to work,” Gram stated. “Just keep your eyes peeled and, in the meantime, your mother and I’ll frequent the shop. But, until you tell Jack what happened with Calvin, I don’t want you to go anywhere alone, okay?”
“Okay,” Belle whispered.
“He won’t hurt you again, honeypot,” Mom reassured. “We wouldn’t let him and now, Jack won’t.”
In her heart, Belle knew this was true.
And her heart spoke to her soul and they both came to an agreement.
It was just her mind that worked against her.
“I think Joy would tackle him and beat him senseless,” Gram commented.
“I’d hate to think what Yasmin would do,” Mom added.
“I don’t hate to think of it,” Gram grinned.
“Can we not talk about Calvin anymore?” Belle asked quietly.
Both her mother and grandmother looked at her and a miracle occurred.
For, at the same time, they agreed.
* * * * *
Belle sat in the window seat of her bedroom wearing a cotton nightgown in a pretty pastel plaid, a drawstring tie at the bodice forming a ruffle along the neckline and wide, ruffle-edged straps. It came down to mid-thigh and, to ward off the cold brought on by the change of weather, she’d put on a pair of thick, pink socks and pulled on a short, pink, jersey dressing gown with a wide hood.
She’d designed the nightgown and robe, a new line of clothing that she’d added to her inventory last summer that had taken off like a shot.
She had not, of course, designed the socks.
The storm had come anew, bringing with it flashes of lightning and rolls of thunder.
Belle watched the storm and let it clear her mind which, fortunately, worked.
After her discussion with her Mom and Gram, instead of going to Jack which had been his unspoken but understood wish, she’d stayed in her Mom’s room. They’d lain in bed and chatted like they’d done thousands of times before, never lacking for conversation.
She was enjoying some time alone with her mother.
But she was also avoiding Jack.
No longer because she was scared of him, it was now because she was scared of her feelings for him.
Therefore, sitting in her window in her room non-thinking, she was also avoiding her thoughts.
And thus she was startled when the door opened and she heard the jangle of dog tags.
She looked to the door to see Jack’s form silhouetted in the light from the hall, Baron and Gretl forging straight toward Belle.
The light was extinguished when Jack closed the door and Belle’s mind was gripped with fear, wondering at his mood, wondering how he’d feel that she didn’t accept his invitation, wondering if he was angry with her.
Absently, she scratched both dogs’ heads while she watched Jack walk toward her.
She could barely see him, the moon was shadowed by clouds and there was no light on in her room. But she could see that he was fully-clothed though she couldn’t see what he was wearing, it looked like a long-sleeved tee and a pair of pyjama pants.
Instead of shifting her and settling behind her (which she kind of hoped he’d do), she watched in frozen silence as he sat on the window seat by her bent legs.
The dogs moved to accommodate him and she heard them settle not far away.
Then his shadowed hand came out and the backs of his fingers ran the length of the side of her thigh from knee to hip, pushing her nightgown along as his fingers met it.
This made her tremble but she trembled in a different way than he normally made her tremble because this was not a sexual touch but a tender one.
“What’s on your mind, poppet?” he asked and she noted immediately he didn’t sound angry or even put out.
He sounded gentle and curious.
“Nothing,” she told him.
“Nothing?” he asked, now sounding slightly disbelieving but mostly teasing.
“The storm has cleared my head,” she explained and she saw Jack’s head turn to look out the window. When he didn’t reply, she added, “I love thunderstorms.”
She saw him face her again and he remarked softly, “I see.” She didn’t know what he saw but he told her, “This is why Lila paints thunderstorms.”
She’d been right. He knew about the Storm Series.
Belle nodded then worried he couldn’t see her nod so she said, “Yes.”
“She loves you a great deal,” Jack remarked then went on. “Though, I’ve noticed she hasn’t offered me any lemon drops.”
Belle felt a soft giggle float up her throat and instead of pushing it back, she let it go.
When she did, Jack moved.
But he didn’t settle in behind her.
He settled opposite her, positioning his long legs so they were cocked on either side of her, his feet against her hips.
She found something about this profound.
It was as if he sensed she needed space and although he wasn’t willing to give it to her, he was willing to give it to her in a way that was a compromise that worked for both of them.
This settled in her heart then it settled in her soul and, finally, it settled in her mind and Belle relaxed.
She relaxed so much, she shared, “She likes your hands.”
“Pardon?” Jack asked.
“Gram. She likes your hands.”
Belle could swear she saw the white of his teeth through the shadows before he muttered. “Well, that’s something.”
“Mom likes your behind,” Belle blurted, caught up in a moment of relaxed sharing, she didn’t think to censor her words and she felt the heat hit her cheeks, glad, for once, that Jack couldn’t see it.
“I think I could have died without learning that information,” Jack returned and Belle instantly wished for magical powers to turn back time but Jack’s legs pressed against hers for a moment before they relaxed. He went on in his low and rumbly tone, “Even so, my love, there’s never anything you can’t share with me, no matter if I don’t want to hear it.”
Belle swallowed and looked out the window.
“Belle,” he called. “Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” she told the window.
If this was true (and, considering he’d used his low and rumbly voice, it had to
be), she could tell him about Calvin and she could tell him about her desire to help Myrtle and Lewis.
It would be a risk but she had to learn to take them no matter how much they frightened her.
Not only for herself but also for their child and finally, she suspected, for Jack.
She turned to face him and announced, “I’m worried about Myrtle and Lewis.”
She felt his eyes on her, the trill went up her spine straight to her scalp but he didn’t speak for a moment.
Finally, he did.
“I guessed that would happen.”
“You did?”
“Poppet, you dove into the freezing sea to save a busload of school children. It isn’t a fantastic leap to guess you’d want to release two child ghosts to heaven,” he replied.
“It’s not the same,” she returned.
“It’s not?” he asked.
“No,” Belle answered.
“How is it not the same?”
She shook her head and looked back to the storm. “It’s just not. That day, with the school bus, I didn’t think. It wasn’t like I watched it happen and I thought, ‘Here I come to save the day.’ I didn’t think at all. If I did, I would never have done it.” Her voice dropped to a whisper and for some reason she kept sharing, “I don’t even remember most of it.”
She hadn’t spoken of this to anyone save her Mom and Gram, of course, and the counsellor she had to see when she’d stopped sleeping.
Other than that, she hadn’t spoken of it to anyone.
Not once.
Even though lots of people had asked, she’d never uttered a word.
His voice had gentled considerably when he asked, “You don’t remember it?”
Belle shook her head again and kept her gaze at the window.
“I remember stopping, getting out of the car and climbing over the railing, standing at the side of the bridge, staring into the sea, watching the bus sink.” She felt his body go still and the air in the room went instantly thick but she just kept talking, “Then I remember diving in like it was a swimming pool not the November sea. It was freezing cold, instantly chilled to the bone cold and I felt bits in the sea hitting my body as I swam down. I don’t even know what those bits were but I do know they scared the heck out of me.”
She gave a shudder and his legs pressed hers again and, still, she kept going, thinking bizarrely that Jack needed to know this. In fact, or some reason, she thought he deserved to know it.