Eternal (31 page)

“I promise. I won’t go to find Dane.” I paused
to wipe away some tears. “
Chandler
,
will you promise me you will take care of Cayden and don’t let him do anything
stupid either?”

“Sure, Winter. I promise.”
Chandler
leaned down and kissed my cheek.
“You know, even though you are a giant pain in my ass, one of the most stubborn
women I have ever met,”
Chandler
chuckled wickedly. “I do miss having you around. I guess you kind of grew on
me.”

“Ditto,” I said, “only not the stubborn woman
thing.” I tried to joke.

Chandler
smiled. He wiped his hand over my cheek using his thumb to brush
back some of my tears. “Will you promise me something?”

“What?” I asked.

“Just one more promise,”
Chandler
said. “Promise me, even if you don’t
want to tell me where you are that once you move you will call or text me to
let me know you are safe.”

I nodded my head. “I promise.”

“Maybe I will catch you later, snowflake?”

“Goodbye,
Chandler
.”

I stood in the middle of my lawn, listening to
my neighbor’s wind chimes
clang.
T
he
tears streamed down my face.
Chandler
opened his car door. He gave me one last glance over his shoulder, smiled his
eye-crinkling smile then got in. I heard the roar of the engine as it came to
life and watched Chandler Cain drive away.

Chapter Eighteen

Starting Over

I sauntered up the steps to my new home, key in
hand. I stared at the bright blue door, the brass handled doorknocker and
wondered at how I’d come to be here. Winter Perri did something she never
imagined. She moved to
London
,
England
. It
seemed to connect me in a way to my past dream of living here with my love. I
was glad to see the press was less interested in me here than in the
United States
,
only having one comment from the realtor.

“So, you are the author who was involved with
those two handsome American chaps, right?”

I smiled. “Yes, I guess I am.”

As the weeks passed, the familiar nightmares
that had returned began to fade, change. Instead of being trapped in a long
hallway trying to reach the door, I would turn and walk away from the door. I
did not need to reach it. I knew the life that went on behind that door and
that life went on without me.

I watched as my belly became more pronounced and
found the need to talk about Cayden so the baby could hear about its father. I
explained the color of Cayden’s eyes, how the color would change and looking
into them always made me feel extraordinary. I talked about the perfect line of
his jaw, the shape of his lips, the angle of his high cheekbones. Then I read
the baby some of Cayden’s favorite poetry, remembering the day he recited them
to me.

I’d bought all of Cayden’s movies, placing them
into the multi-disc DVD player where they stayed. I stood with my belly facing
the speaker so the baby could hear Cayden’s voice. His voice was beautiful,
memorizing. I would stand there and cry as Cayden’s silky voice filled the room
and encased me within the warm velvet folds.

It was May eighteenth, Cayden’s twenty-fourth
birthday when I sat down at the computer and did an internet search for him. I
wanted to check on him without really checking on him. I typed his name into
the Google search engine and as usual hundreds of internet pages popped up. I
hit the news and gossip section then found my face turn into a smile with the
news Cheryl Lynn and Cayden were an item once again. They were having a long
distance relationship since filming in
New
York
had been completed and were rumored to be
looking for a home to buy together. Cayden, however, was working on his next
film on location in
Vancouver
.
While it might be a strange reaction, smiling at such news, it was exactly what
I needed to read. They had left me out of Cayden’s life and moved on. This news
was good. I was a faint echo so the press would not haunt him over me.

My fingers held onto the mouse in contemplation.
In a moment of weakness, I moved it and found myself clicking on the photo
links. There before my eyes, I stared in open-mouthed awe at Cayden’s flawless
photos, with fresh tears streaming down my face. He was as usual perfect,
beautiful to an excruciating degree. As in real life, his eyes penetrated me to
my very soul while I gazed at them through the shimmer of the computer screen.

I heard a small rapping at my door, so I closed
out the tab to the internet page, wiped my tears and went to answer the door….

 
“Hi,
Philomena, how are you this morning?” I asked.

“Oh just wonderful sweet,” she replied. “Ackerly
made tea. He sent me to fetch you.”

“Okay, let me grab my key,” I said. I rummaged
through my purse, finding the key to my flat and placed it into my pocket.

While I had not known Ackerly and Philomena
Collins for long, they were already important people in my life. They were my
neighbors who quickly found the need to take me under their wing. I think they
felt sorry for the poor pregnant American that was obviously on her own,
without a husband. The day I moved in, Ackerly was at my door introducing
himself. He stood tall in his dark green cardigan with his snow-white hair,
inviting me over for tea. Ackerly and Philomena are sweet, like loving
grandparents. I truly love talking with them.

“Winter!” Ackerly exclaimed as I walked into the
kitchen of their flat. He had just finished with his tea. “Two sugars, right,
luv?”

“Yes, thank you,” I replied.

Philomena stood in the doorway of her kitchen,
her snow-white hair wrapped tightly into a bun on the back of her head. She
grabbed at the glasses that were always hanging around her neck.

“So, how are things coming with your book,
sweet?” she asked in her high-pitched buttery British brogue.

“Well, I have hit a bit of a roadblock,” I
confessed. “I’m not real sure if I should have my heroine leave or stay.”

Ackerly leaned back in his chair and began
tapping the seat next to him while giving me some of his insight. “Luv, you
need to decide if your lovers really belong together or not. Sometimes leaving
makes the heart grow fonder.”

I smiled and took the seat beside Ackerly. “Good
advice, Ackerly.”

Ackerly closed his eyes as he said, “Philomena
left me once, but when she came back to me, I knew with no doubt I would never
lose her again.”

I glanced at Philomena, who smiled tenderly,
then patted the top of her husband’s wrinkled hand. “It tis strange how things
in life work out, is it not?” she said softly.

“Tell me,” I asked.

I watched Ackerly’s kindly wrinkled face change
into a gaze of remembrance. He stared past me and began to tell his story.

“It was nineteen hundred and forty-nine. I was
seventeen years old, and my older brother who I always looked up to had come
home for a visit. There on his arm was the most beautiful creature I had ever
seen. She was ravened-haired with large blue eyes and the most perfect ruby red
lips.” Ackerly smiled. “Ahh….” He nodded his head. “She was the sun bright and
full, that one. I fell in love with her the very moment I laid my eyes upon
her, but there was a problem.” Ackerly paused and stared at me. “Winter, are
you sure you have time for this story?”

“Yes,” I said. I was already tangled into the
threads of his story. I had to hear how things turned out. “Please continue.”

“Day after day I would watch my raven-haired
beauty hoping for the chance to touch her. Then guilt would overtake me. I knew
my thoughts and wishes were so very wrong. You see, my raven-haired beauty was
my brother’s affianced. I could not allow myself the kind of pain it would
cause me, him, or her if I acted upon my impulses, so I watched from a far and
dreamed of kissing her perfect lips.”

Ackerly sighed longingly, picked up his cup and
took a sip of his tea. When he sat his teacup back into the saucer, he
continued.

“When my brother and his beauty left, I thought
I would indeed die. I needed to see her. I had to so I would sneak off from the
farm from time to time and just stand on the street corner across from their
flat, waiting to catch a glimpse of her. Sometimes saw her through the window
or other times she would leave to run an errand, so I would follow behind,
watching her. I knew I wasn’t a smart bloke by following her but I had to see
her. She caught me one day and asked me what I was doing in
London
. I lied but I never believed she
believed me—”

“More tea?” Philomena interrupted.

“Sure,” I said. With steady hand, she poured me
another cup full.

“My brother was killed a few months later. Hit
by an auto as he was walking down the street from his work. He was heading home
to his new bride.” Ackerly’s face turned into an ancient mask of sadness now.
“It was horrible to lose my brother. I still miss him, every day.” He paused,
rubbing almost nervous at the edge of his sleeve. Philomena reached over to pat
his hand. He smiled tenderly at her before turning his attention back toward
me.

“You see, luv,” he said. “His wife came home to
live with me, my mother and my father. In those days, it made sense to come
home to the family. Women did not have as many options then as they do now,”
Ackerly interjected. I nodded. “At first, my guilt was almost unbearable. I
wondered how I could be such a selfish bloke. How could I covet my brother’s
wife? Then with the knowledge he was gone, well, I guess it made me feel in
some way responsible for his death.” Ackerly looked pained for a moment. “Of
course as much as I wanted my raven-haired beauty, I would have never wished
for my brother’s death. Never,” he said looking at me with wide eyes.

“Of course,” I agreed.

“In time I convinced myself my fear and guilt
over the loss of my brother, and what I wanted was useless. I knew I loved my
brother, and I knew he would want his wife and me both to be happy. I knew if
he had lived, I would have never acted only dreamed. But now that he was gone,
as hard as it was, I was free to act. I warred with myself over the decision to
just allow my raven-haired beauty live a life with another or with me. It was a
dilemma, because eventually she would find another, and could I live with that?
I was not at all sure.” Ackerly smiled at me, his hazel eyes tender. “My
selfish side took over. I began to act on my wishes, my hope and my dreams of
being with the raven-haired beauty. I knew without doubt she was feeling
something for me. When I first kissed her, she cried. She felt she had somehow
betrayed my brother. I knew the hopes for our relationship where slim. It
seemed we had far too much conspiring against us. She could not get past the
fear or the betrayal she felt by having feelings for me.”

I shook my head. “Yes,” I said with total
understanding.

“So, Philomena left me,” Ackerly said. “It was
the worst day of my young life. It was just like the death of my brother. To
know she was gone from me forever and I could never touch her face, look into
her eyes, or kiss her perfect lips killed me. I wanted to die. I believe a part
of my heart did die when I watched her walk out of my life, and moreover, I
knew I had to let her go. I could not keep her against her wishes. Not allow
the pain she was suffering.”

“I had to go,” Philomena interjected. “I could
not hurt you or myself any further. I loved you so much but I was afraid.” She
gazed at Ackerly with such tenderness it was heart-wrenching. “I felt what I
was doing was so wrong. It had to be wrong, and I was a silly chit. I should
not feel something for another man and so soon after the death of my husband
and your brother.” Philomena paused and looked at me. “And then there was the
fact Ackerly had just turned eighteen while I was twenty-six. I could not
imagine how horrible, how immoral I was for wanting him. I did not deserve him.
He was young, so beautiful. He deserved so much more than an older broken
woman.” Philomena gazed back at Ackerly. “But in the end all of my efforts were
rendered useless. I loved him. There in lied the truth and the answer I had
been fighting against. You see I was not broken when I was with Ackerly. My heart
would not let me stay away. After two months of total agony I went back.”

Ackerly grinned wide. “When I saw her walking
down that dusty road, coming toward my house, I thought my heart would leap
from my chest. I was alive again. I ran out the door, down the road, and
grabbed her into my arms. I told her I loved her. I wasn’t daft; I wasted no
time and asked her to marry me on the spot. She said ‘yes’ and here we are, all
these years later, she, my raven-haired beauty, still at my side. Philomena is
the love of my life.”

“And you are mine,” she returned.