The Legacy (8 page)

Hearing a soft knock on the bedroom door, I turn. Ingo
stands in the doorway, his features expressing as much pain as
my own. I hate what this is doing to him, what
I
am doing to
him. But I don’t know how to deal with this fear of not being
good enough for him. I turn back to the city lights.

I sense his nearness before he even touches me. His arms
circle my waist and I am held close, the pounding of his heart
against my back causing my own heart to race. Trying to fight
the desire growing inside me is useless. Closing my eyes, I tip
my head back against his shoulder, shuddering as the warmth
of his breath fans the side of my face.

“I love you, Cisely,” he whispers, brushing his lips against
my ear. “Please say you love me.”
Turning in his arms, I draw his head down, slowly
brushing my lips against his. “I do love you.”
As the passion of our kiss grows, his embrace tightens
and I melt against him. My fingers are buried in his hair as his
lips trail over my face, making a path back to my own.
Lifting his head, he looks into my eyes, tears brimming
his.
“You are my whole life, love, my whole world. And we
can't be married soon enough.”
Dropping my eyes, I slowly turn away. I can’t think about
marriage right now when my yesterdays are still taking over my
life.
“What is it?” His voice is pleading. “Please talk to me.
Tell me what’s going on inside you.”
Keeping my back to him, the wild thumping of my heart
takes away my breath and I don’t respond. I can't.
He tugs at my arm gently. “Please, Cisely, talk to me. I
can’t read your mind, though I really wish I could sometimes.”
Latching on to a small thread of anger, I whirl on him.
“No you don’t! If you could, you wouldn’t like what you saw
there and you would leave me as quick as you could!”
“First, you can’t tell me how I would react because you
won’t even give me a chance! And second!” He takes my arms
in his hands. His voice softens, but his grip tightens gently. “I
would never leave you, Cisely. Never. There is nothing you
could say to make me want to leave. There is nothing in this
world that could take me away from you except death, and I
don’t plan on going anytime soon. I love you. Can't you
understand that? I'm in this for the long haul.” Releasing my
arms, he takes my hands, pressing them against his chest. “You
are a part of me. If I ever left you it would be like leaving a part
of myself behind, and I just can’t do that.”
A painful moan escapes me as emotion bubbles to the
surface, and the tears come hard and fast. Ingo pulls me into
his arms, slowly rocking me back and forth, crying with me.
After a few moments, I move back. Taking a deep breath, I
decide to just get it over with. My confessions will decide my
fate with him. I am risking everything, but it is a risk I know I
have to take.
Here goes nothing
.

Tentatively, I force the first words from my lips.
“My father used to tell me I would only be good for one
thing in this life. Each and every time he entered my room and
had his way with me, afterward he would say the very same
thing.
“You are only going to be good for one thing in this world, girl.”
And . . . he was right.” I pause. If I am going to tell him
everything, I can’t look at him. I don’t want to see the pain my
words bring etched in his handsome features. Fixing my gaze
on a painting hanging on the wall over the sofa, I continue.
“When I moved out of my mother’s apartment, I moved
in with people I thought were my friends. They made me feel
welcome and were willing to share all they had with me.” I
release a humorless chuckle. “Well, all they had was a fridge full
of beer instead of food, cupboards full of liquor instead of
food, and last but not least, a medicine cabinet full of every
drug known to man.” I shake my head at the visual. “At least
the drugs were where they were supposed to be in the house.”
Pausing, I glance at Ingo. He is listening quietly, his
expression unreadable.
“It wasn’t hard to get hooked, you know? It was like an
all you can take and drink buffet. After a year it became my
breakfast, lunch and dinner. I soon discovered the more I
drank, the more I could numb the pain of the past. The more
pills I popped, the more marijuana I smoked, the less pain I
felt. And even though I found a way to medicate myself, it still
wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Pretty soon I was so far
gone, I completely stopped caring about anything. I mean . . .
my father always said I was only good for one thing.” I stop,
coming to the worst of it, and I don’t know if I can admit it out
loud.
Placing a finger beneath my chin, he softly says, “Tell
me.”
Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly as another wave
of tears trickle down my face.
I guess we are at the make or break
point, huh?
“I proved my father right. It turned out I
was
only
good for one thing.” Wiping the tears away, I force myself to
look into his eyes. “You’re getting used merchandise as my aunt
so bluntly put it. I’m not pure. For that matter I don’t think I
ever was. I’ve slept around, Ingo. A
lot
.” I release an inward
sigh.
There. I've said it. It's all out in the open now.
Ingo presses a hand to my cheek, wiping my tears. “I
know,
love.”
His
words
stun
me
and I stare
at
him,
disbelieving. “I’ve known from the first. But I needed to let you
tell me yourself. I wanted to hear it from you.”
“And now?” I am afraid to hear the answer, but I need to
know where things stand between us.
“Nothing has changed, except my love for you. I didn’t
think I could love you more, but I was wrong.” He wipes at his
own tears. “And by the way, you are very pure and I don’t ever
want to hear you refer to yourself as used merchandise again.
Ever.”
“But . . . how can you say that? How can you still love me
knowing what you know now?”
“How could you think I would stop loving you? It's all in
the past. It doesn't matter.”
“But it does matter!” I cry, frustrated, mainly with myself.
“Can you tell me why?”
Closing my eyes, I rub my aching temples. My soul is
weary and I long to explain what I feel inside, but I don't know
how. I have lived with the secret of my dirty past for so long, it
is
hard to
just
let
it
go.
My
choices
were
terrible
and
unforgivable. My mind is conditioned to think it can’t be that
easy to let go.
Ingo sighs. “Let me ask you something. Do you want to
do those things anymore?”
Of course not.
“No.”
“Are you sorry about those choices?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever want to repeat them?”
Sniffing, I wipe my face. “Never. I have too much respect
for myself now and . . .”
“And?” he presses.
“I have you.”
Don't I? Please say I still do.

“You will always have me. But you have to let the past
go, love. Until you do, we can't move forward.
You
can't move
forward.”

I nod, closing my eyes. He's right, but it is still so hard.
“Cisely, look at me.” As I open my eyes, he gently wipes
my fresh tears away. “You are an amazing person. You are
beautiful, strong, talented, caring, giving, and kind. But until
you leave the past behind, you will never see what I and
everyone else sees in you.” Drawing me close, he whispers
against my ear, “Let it go, love. Just let it all go.”
As if I had only needed his permission, a dam breaks
inside me and I press my face against his chest, my shoulders
trembling in agony as all the sorrow I've carried for so long
rises to the surface and finds release. The pain that has crushed
my spirit for all these years brings me to my knees.
Ingo sinks to the floor and just holds me, sharing my
heartache, as well as my sweet release.
“You are a wonderful person, Cisely,” he continues to
whisper, holding me tighter. “You are stronger and more loved
than you can possibly know, and I will never let you forget
that.”
Holding to his words, I continue to cling to him, my sobs
soon lessening as the peace I have longed for for so long enters
me. He pulls back a little, gazing at me and I smile. I know my
eyes are red and swollen and I must look a sight, but I am
happy. Truly happy.
“I love you, Mrs. Kelly, almost.”
I laugh. “And I love you, Mr. Kelly. More than I can say.”
Smiling, he lowers his head. As he kisses me this time, I
hold nothing back. For the first time in my life I feel free, and
the kiss we share is glorious. It is filled with love, passion and
healing. The new tears that slip down my cheeks are no longer
from pain, but from the pleasure of knowing I can now be his
completely–my heart, my mind and my soul.
And I know he will keep them all safe.

We hold a simple graveside service for my mother.
Though I want to introduce Ingo to my uncle and his wife, they
stay so far away, I don't really get the chance. I am used to the
way things are between us, but this is my mother's funeral, for
heaven's sake! I can't believe they are being so cold to me on a
day like today. We should be sharing some kind of connection
and the past shouldn't matter. But it still matters to them. Why,
I don't know. Except for my cousin Velma, they are all as rude
as they can be. And all because I did the unforgivable in their
eyes; I changed my life and moved away to have a better one.
Glancing at Ingo, I squeeze his hand. He gives me a sad smile
and I know he understands what I feel.

The attendance is small, which is fine with me. It seems
all of Mama's drinking buddies and ex-boyfriends are otherwise
occupied.

I had asked the reverend of the church my mother
attended as a teenager to officiate and he'd happily agreed. As
he says the final words and her casket is lowered into the
ground, I am regretful that Mama didn’t get to see how I
changed my life. Not that it would have mattered much. I only
wish I could have made peace with her. I guess she has a better
view of me now, and hopefully she is happy for me.

We shake hands with the reverend and thank him for the
service. Ingo gives him an envelope and he smiles, slipping it
into his suit coat pocket.

Walking to the car, I glimpse a lone figure standing in the
distance and my heart lurches. The person quickly turns and
walks away. I can’t be sure, but it almost looks like . . . No, it
can’t be him. I am certain it's not.

My face is expressionless, but I am nauseous inside.
Tightening my grip on Ingo’s hand, I take a deep breath and
keep walking, never slowing my step. I don’t want Ingo to
worry, nor do I want to think about who the person could have
been. I'm not up to it, and I never will be. So I put it out of my
mind.

Following the service, Ingo treats me to lunch and we do
a little sightseeing. We take a quick tour through
Biltmore House
and Gardens
and visit the Thomas Moore house.

We spend the rest of the evening repacking and getting
ready for our trip back. And as we board the plane the
following day, I realize that for the first time in my life, I have
no regrets. Sure, it would have been nice to make peace with
my family, but I did all I could and I have to let it go now.

Ingo keeps my hand between his as the plane takes off.
Fingering my engagement ring, he tells me how blessed he feels
that I am still wearing it after all that has happened. He had
been afraid of losing me, to which I reply, “You will never
again have to worry about that. It's not an option.”

I have enjoyed the time I've spent with Ingo in North
Carolina and will treasure it always. Because it is there that a
miracle occurred. He helped me understand that my past
doesn't determine the rest of my life, and that overcoming the
trials I've faced so far has made me stronger and shaped who I
am now–the person he loves.

Now when I think of home, I will remember it as the
place where I truly became whole.
I am happy, life is good and I look forward to the future.
So why does a small part of me still feel unsettled?