Albatross (16 page)

“Right…” Laura said cautiously again. “Well, if you’re sure…I just want to help. You can tell me if something’s wrong…”

“I know…I’m sorry I burst in. I’m fine.” Jen reassured her, a little more convincingly now, for she had fully regained her breath and her face was less flushed.

Laura’s eyes examined her one final time.

“Okay…” She finally breathed, but then her voice dropped to a hushed whisper again. “But if it is, you know, if you think…” She attempted, not sure how to phrase what she was trying to say. “If you see, you know…”

“Honestly, Laura, it’s not.” Jen said more firmly then, her tone suddenly more assertive, and certainly more believable.

“Okay…” Laura finally relented. “We just worry, that’s all…”

“I know, Laura.” Jen feigned a smile as best she could, hugging her briefly. “And thank you. But it’s okay…”

“Alright.” Laura concluded, smiling in return. “We’re always here…”

“Thank you.” Jen repeated. “But, please, try not to worry. Nothing’s happened. It’s not him…”

Lagoon of Excuses

             
Over the course of the next fortnight time seemed to shift strangely for young Jennifer Williams, and she felt as if the days passed by incredibly quickly, whilst at the same time the weeks dragged by laboriously.

              Clare kept her distance during that fortnight, and though Jen often saw her older sister, she was always off a ways, watching from afar. They didn’t once speak, and constant waves of guilt and uncertainty flooded through Jen at every fleeting opportunity.

              She did see Deacon, however, as often as she could, and their bond grew only ever stronger.

              But even by the end of the fortnight, she still hadn’t told him the full truth that Clare had urged her so to reveal. Every time Deacon asked where Clare was, Jen was forced to come up with some sort of excuse as to why he hadn’t yet met her, and the task grew harder and harder day by day.

              Deacon may have noticed that something was bothering her.

              In fact, tell a lie, of course he had noticed that something was bothering her.

              But he didn’t push Jen unnecessarily, knowing that, in her own time, she would reveal anything that was on her mind.

              Much did he realise.

Little did he know.

Dyra however, wanting only to see the good, saw much improvement in her youngest daughter. Though it may well have been thanks to Deacon, she didn’t really care what the reason was.

Jen was eating again. She was looking well. In fact she was looking stunning; her body had filled out in the way it always used to be.

She seemed happier than she had been in far too long.

At work Jen hummed and sang and danced and cooked and waltzed, and was more energetic than Geoff had ever seen her. It was as though she had been reborn, and was living a life renewed.

Nonetheless, as best they could without her noticing, he and Laura kept a close eye on their young friend, for they cared about her dearly, and dreaded the thought that something would again throw her off course.

Deacon often met her from work. He came to know Geoff and Laura well, and they both had to admit that they approved. The young man was polite, friendly, kind, and without a shadow of a doubt he cared for Jen deeply.

It was a pleasure to see.

Deacon regularly came to eat with Jen and her mother, Dyra, and he even painted for them one evening, and produced a portrait of the pair of them that was almost beyond compare. It immediately found pride and place upon the wall in their living room, surrounded by photos on all sides of both Jen and Clare, or of all three of them, though it looked somehow a little out of place amongst all the others.

Clare never made an appearance, however, and when challenged, that fact was met with constant excuses made for her by her faithful younger sister.

It was only those relentless apologies that Jen made which worried Dyra now, and Deacon picked up immediately on the fact that it concerned her, though he said not a word.

Something was still going on, something tucked far behind the scenes, he was certain of that much, but still he hadn’t a clue what.

A few times Deacon took Jen out to dinner, and they laughed and joked and enjoyed each other’s company long into the night. Once, he drove her a little further down south, and they spent the day on a glorious, golden beach that neither of them knew.

And then, one day, during the second week, he told her he was taking her somewhere else. But, when she enquired as to where, he only winked slyly and told her it was a surprise once again.

They drove inland from the coast, for an hour or so, and Jen recognised some of the places they passed, but then didn’t know others.

Deacon liked to surprise her, she was beginning to realise; as is a man’s prerogative.

Pulling up a narrow lane, barely wide enough for even one car, branches of bordering trees stretched out from either side of the beaten track and reached and clutched at the car as it passed slowly by.

On that particular day the air was warm and the sun broke intermittently through the rolling banks of cloud hovering above. The clouds were white and wispy, rather than grey and heavy, and tottered around their own ocean of blue without a care in the world, just watching the day while away.

Emerging from the suffocating treeline, crossing an orange strip of sun kissed ground, a lake came into view that stretched out into the distance, hugged on every bank and shore by the endless parade of trees. Jen’s eyes widened imploringly as they wound their way up towards the concealed lagoon, abandoned and free.

“Where are we?” She breathed, though, in all honesty, that didn’t really matter.

Deacon knew this, and his reply both remedied her question and left it unanswered, all at once.

“We’re here.” He replied simply.

Jen grinned at him thankfully and he smirked back cheekily, leaning in to kiss her gently on the lips. She ran her hands smoothly down his cheek and clutched her fingers to his skin longingly, as she always did, for she could never help herself.

Leaving the car, clambering over rocks and fallen trees across what looked to be the only clearing on the entire shore of the lake, Deacon led Jen across to the tranquil shoreline.

Tranquil as a mind without worry.

“Where are we going?” She asked him, following perfectly in his footsteps, fearful of straying from his path, for the consequences could be too grave to consider.

“You’ll see.” He answered her, again giving away nothing.

He crossed from the clearing and into the dense treeline, disappearing from view for a moment, leaving Jen alone for a brief second.

For some reason though, the instant he passed out of her sight, left alone it the silence of the undisturbed lake, Jen panicked, her terrible thoughts and memories rolling over her like a great cascading storm.

She glanced around nervously, admittedly, looking for her sister.

But, of course, Clare was nowhere to be seen.

How could she be?

Jen was finding that she was questioning herself more and more of late, and it was driving her insane. Things she had never known were coming to dreadful light, and things she had always relied on were slipping further and further from her weakening grasp.

“Got it!” Deacon’s muffled voice called then from beyond the concealing treeline, interrupting Jen’s spiralling thoughts. In seconds he emerged from between two stout pines, dragging something only just narrow enough to fit between them behind him.

“What is it?” Jen asked, recovering from her daze and moving swiftly to his side, afraid to be alone.

Her question was answered as he stepped back and out into the welcoming light.

It was a small, wooden rowing boat, old and well used, but sturdy and still in good shape.

“Oh…” Jen remarked, a little surprised, and her face lit up as Deacon stood straight and turned to face her, his breathing steady.

“Up for it?” He asked her, casting a brief glance out towards the water.

Jen did not speak to reply.

Instead, stretching up onto her tiptoes and placing her hands upon his chest, she kissed him. He held her there for a moment, his hands running up her back and into her hair.

It was only because she needed to breathe that Jen let go, and if somehow her kiss hadn’t, the look in her eyes certainly answered Deacon’s question.

“Let’s go then.” He breathed softly, his voice like rough velvet stirring the water in their wake.

Working together they dragged the rowing boat right up to the edge of the shore, leaving a trail behind them in the strewn pebbles and bark and dirt and sand, all mixed in together.

Jen jumped in once they had it half in and half out of the lagoon, sending tumbling ripples out across the water, disturbing its perfect surface. Deacon shoved the boat and it began to glide instantly out into the peaceful abyss. He leapt as he pushed and clambered into the boat beside Jen, steadying himself as the small vessel rocked slightly from side to side.

“Ready?” He asked with a grin.

Jen nodded, smirking back. She could never help herself with him. He brought it out of her like no one else.

Deacon reached down for the oars resting in the bottom of the boat, positioned them, seated himself opposite Jen, facing the shore, and they were off.

Dipping the oars slowly, rhythmically, in and out of the water, casting new waves out across the rippling mirror of the lagoon with every movement, he rowed them gracefully out into the middle of the lake.

A gradual, barely noticeable wind crept across the surface, snaking its way through the wafting greenery of the trees and tiptoeing over the water as if it wasn’t supposed to be there. It tugged imperceptibly at Jen’s hair, blowing it over her one shoulder, and Deacon took in the sight in all her beauty, even as he rowed.

Beyond her the surface of the water glistened in the dazzling sunlight, and the lazy clouds above seemed to part perfectly to allow it to keep shining.

All around the trees engulfed them on practically every shoreline, and Deacon even felt as though if the pines could have marched down and into the water itself, they most certainly would have done.

As ever, his eyes saw everything, and for that he was so glad, for he drank in the picture of Jen before him greedily, and never wanted it to change.

Little did he know though, there were certain things only Jen’s eyes would ever see: things that neither he nor Dyra would ever be able to cast their gazes upon.

Jen stared out over the lake and thought of many different things.

Half the time she couldn’t even put her finger on exactly which thoughts were racing through her mind at any one moment, for they flickered by so fast that she didn’t have chance to focus.

When she eventually did manage to settle on a single notion, she remembered when she and her older sister, Clare, and their mother, Dyra, had gone out to a lake themselves. It was the one where they’d taken that photo, she recalled, that even still was framed at home.

It was just a shame that, now she was here with Deacon, thoughts such as that invaded her mind, bringing back her faded memories and her uncontrollable despair.

Still, Clare had not appeared, even though Jen dutifully glanced around every now and then to see if she would come.

But then, naturally, there was no way she could have been there.

Nonetheless, for a time, Jen was nothing if not distracted.

She fought hard against it though, and actually, in the end, in something of a revelation, actually managed to break through the thoughts and memories that oppressed her, and smiled thankfully at Deacon.

“Here, budge over.” She told him, smirking as she stood up on wobbly legs and crossed the perilous two steps it took her to reach the board upon which he sat.

“What…?” He began, but before he could actually form a question, Jen nudged him over to one side playfully.

“Budge!” She laughed, plonking herself down beside him and blowing a raspberry on his neck.

Taking up one of the oars and leaving him to tend the other one, Jen grinned like a child let loose in a playground for the first time, and Deacon laughed merrily.

“Come on then.” He joked, eyeing her with a teasing look. “Let’s see what you’ve got…”

Jen felt like the more time she spent with Deacon, the more that her mood lifted, and the more easily she could keep her desolate thoughts at bay.

She felt so much more like her old self again, and she just prayed now that it lasted.

Surely it couldn’t last forever, could it?

It was as if his very presence was keeping her devilish evils at bay. In fact, more than that. He was helping her, probably without even realising, to again become the person she once had been.

And with that: with her renewed strength, Jen felt strong enough to take on the day.

But as their perfect day wore on, the afternoon gave way to dusk, and evening laid itself out over the land. The tides found a way to change their peaceful rhythm, and order was stirred into chaos.

Speaking of devils, it was upon that very evening that a demon yet again came to visit the Keepers’ household, and it left a devastating trail of destruction in its wake.