“I am more than my scars”
- Andrew Davidson
Previously on The Space Between:
Jonathan and Annabelle, having settled some of the shock that comes with meeting in a dream, have their first conversation. A conversation that strikes both on a deeper plane than either ever expected.
Now, Jonathan sets his sights on finding her. But Annabelle knows all too well what might happen if he does…
Chapter Seven
In a matter of moments, Juliette came barrelling into my room, lamp in hand, her hair fluttering about.
“What is it, Miss? You look frightful.” Her eyes were full of anxiousness and worry as she came to my bedside, laying the lamp down on the dresser and placing herself lightly on the edge of the bed. She brought me into an embrace as I crumbled, no longer able to keep any of it in.
“Oh Miss, it will be all right,” she soothed, “no need to fret.”
“No, Juliette,” I began, peeling away from her to look her in the eye, “he said he would try and find me.”
Her expression lightened, excitement filling her, “Oh, so you did see him again! This is good news, innit?”
“Juliette, you and I both know what might happen if he does. It is much too dangerous for him, oh—”
“Shh, it’s all right, Miss,” she said softly, tucking me into another embrace. “Here now, try and rest, you will feel much better in the morning. May I fetch you anything? A cup of tea? I can wake cook, I’m certain she—”
“No. No, it’s all right. I’ll be all right.” I pulled myself from her arms and turned away, laying back down in the bed.
“Well, if that changes—”
“I promise, you will be the first to know. Thank you, Juliette.”
“All right, good night, Miss.”
“Good night.” I tried to keep my words soft so as to dampen her worry but I could sense the heaviness and hesitation in her footfalls as she left the room.
The night air had gone stagnant, still. And the longer I laid in bed, I could not make myself sleep. I wanted to see him again, more than I could have imagined, but the fear was far too great.
When I finally gave up on sleep, I arose from bed, pulled on my robes, and stepped to the window, gazing out at the moonlit night.
The city was different now than it was during the day. Though the lamps gave it some light to live by, it’s as if those who walked the night preferred the darkness instead, avoiding it’s dim glow as though it were a bottomless pit which would swallow them whole. Shadows without faces or names.
As fearful as I found myself of them, it was the shadows that lay about my own house which frightened me most.
*********
Sitting hunched in the tepid bathwater, I hugged my bent legs close to my chest. Every part of me ached and spasmed, the twinge in my ribs making it difficult to take a full breath. My stomach lurched, mouth still lined with what my aching belly successfully evicted. And though it had quieted some, I could not quell the knot that now pushed against every wall within me.
The water had become swirled with pink ribbons, a laced veil skimming the surface. But even it could not shroud what damaged mess lay below. And what I could see did not frighten me nearly as much as what I could not.
When Juliette came in the door behind me, I heard her stumble, her breath leaving her in a stifled gasp, “Oh my.” After that, she swallowed whatever was to come next, clearing her throat, pretending to busy herself.
“Oh please, Juliette, please be truthful with me. Please, I must know. How bad—” My throat caught on the last words. I knew how bad it was, the pain gave that away with glaring intent. Still, I needed someone else to see. To know that I was indeed not alone. Otherwise, I thought I may perish, the pain was too great.
“I’m sure they will heal just fine, Miss. Mostly bruises and the like. I should not think any will leave a scar.”
There was a hesitation in her tone, almost a grapple on the last word. Scar. I knew then she was not telling me the whole truth but I did not wish to make her any more uncomfortable.
I carefully waded myself back against the wall of the bathtub, feeling the sting as the water rolled against my tender skin.
“Not exactly the wedding day every girl dreams of, is it,” I said.
“It isn’t right, if you ask me. Oh, my apologies, Miss, I should not have said that.”
“No, Juliette, please, it’s all right. I appreciate the honesty. I really do. So few seem to tell me the truth these days.”
I turned myself around on the edge of the bathtub to face her, “Oh please promise me you will always do so. I do not particularly need a lady’s maid, but if I am to survive my life here, what I do need is a friend. Someone I can trust. Please?”
“Yes, Miss.” She gave a small smile, the kind someone would force out in a half-truth. And though it wasn’t all genuine, I knew the heart from which it came and that brought me some comfort.
“Thank you,” I said meekly, replacing myself against the back of the bathtub.
“I’ll go and...make you a cup of tea,” she said, almost scurrying out the door.
Staring into the murky water, I lost my way, my mind still trying to come to terms. So this would be my life now. The next swallow down my bruised throat felt like it would be the last. It may very well be. He will come for you again. He said it himself, he will not stop until he has an heir.
Though the bath was warm, my bones shook as if made of ice, rattling around like shards of broken glass. And I was...broken. A winged bird no longer able to fly.
When Juliette returned, she laid the cup and saucer on my writing desk and made herself busy again.
“Juliette,”
“Yes, Miss?” She had reached out to straighten the curtains but did not turn around.
“Have you ever been in love?”
She paused, turning slightly, “I’m sorry, Miss?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
“Oh.” Her fingers hesitated, as though they had forgotten what they were doing. After a moment, she must have decided it was not worth remembering and came around.
“If you do not wish to answer—”
“Oh no, it’s all right. I suppose I’ve never been asked that before. I’m not even sure I know what love is, really. I know it isn’t that,” she said, nodding her head in the direction of my bath.
“No. It most certainly is not.”
“Oh Miss, is there anything I can do? My cousin is a policeman, perhaps he can help.”
“He’s a nobleman, Juliette, a very powerful lord. I highly doubt anyone is going touch him. And if he were to find out—“
“Oh,” she sighed. “Well, what can we do, then?”
“We can pray.”
“Miss? I hope you don’t mind me asking but, have you ever been in love?”
I let out a deep breath, giving my body room to settle, to ease. “I thought I was once. But that was a long time ago.”
“What was he like?”
I smiled, pulling his sacred memory from its box In my mind.
“He had warm eyes, warm like the sun on a spring day. Flecks of gold inlaid. The kind that mirrored the fields he worked. He was kind. A strong young man.
He was different from the others, never boasting or parading about. He had a quiet way about him. Often, I’d find him sitting about the field, picking at the grass. I asked him once what he was doing and all he said was ‘listening.’”
“He’s sounds lovely.”
“Oh indeed. When we met, it was as though he had strayed from a dream. We would spend hours under the old oak tree just talking. He liked it when I would read to him, though he knew each by heart. One night, we almost got caught sneaking up to the library to garnish another book,” I giggled.
“And he wrote letters.“
“He knew how to write?”
“Indeed. Oh and he did, Juliette, so many letters. Sheets and sheets. Always finding clever little ways to deliver them. Even hiding one in the rose garden where I took my daily walk.”
I could feel the flush rising in my cheeks. Juliette was riveted, glued to my face.
“That was the night of our first kiss.”
“Miss!”
“Oh I know we shouldn’t have but I could not help it. I was in love, Juliette. Completely in love.”
“Whatever happened to him?”
I slouched down further into the tub, letting the water sink me into its languid abyss.
“I grew up.”
“Oh.“ Her face dampened. “What was his name?”
“Marcus.” The name had little precious glow left, as though uttering it now might edge it into oblivion. Heavy. Distraught. A faint echo of a past I no longer recognized.
*********
As the memory faded, I found myself back at the window, the night air billowing cold shadows up from the street. I would have preferred to be down there with them. Though they walked in shadow unseen, they were more free than I would ever be.
You could run. But a tug at my heart drew me back. Jonathan. You had to protect him. But what if he comes anyway? What if he finds me, what happens then?
But the question was unnecessary. For my heart had already chosen. And there was no going back.
To be continued…
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Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six
My favorite part is this flashback, because it completely changes the emotional tone of the chapter:
He had warm eyes, warm like the sun on a spring day. Flecks of gold inlaid... He had a quiet way about him. Often, I’d find him sitting about the field, picking at the grass. I asked him once what he was doing and all he said was ‘listening.’
This is such a beautiful character introduction. Instead of describing Marcus as handsome or heroic, the author defines him through his quiet nature. That single word "listening" tells you more about his personality than an entire paragraph of physical description could. It immediately makes him feel gentle, thoughtful, and real.