Chapter 17: Liam

The mistrust in her is written all over every inch of her body. She believes this is a trick. I try my hardest not to show the anger I feel for that. Even as she steps outside she keeps looking back at me, she is waiting for the other shoe to drop. For the big ha ha, the laugh in her face as the door slams in her face. I have no intention of doing that. After talking to my brother, after I realized the lie that everyone in this word was meant to believe. Alessandro kept his wife a prisoner. Something I could never even fathom anyone doing to someone they claim to love. It has me questioning so many things. Everyone is different I know this, there is true evil in this world. Some would say I am part of that. But this for me is unheard of. I’ve seen the way he looks at her. But now I’m questioning whether he is just that good of an actor, or maybe she is, and all this is for show. No, that can’t be it. I’ve seen the pictures or lack thereof. I was forced to look back on my life with my pa and ma. Cormac was not a good man. He beat us and ma regularly. And if he couldn’t break you with fists then he tore you down with words. But he never imprisoned us the way this lass has been. The only thing I know for certain is that I will not be that kind of evil. That I feel like I must be the one to heal at least this small part of her while she is with me.

When we are finally all the way through, I keep my eyes firm on her to watch for anything that could give away that she has fooled me. Nothing shows that. In fact, I watch as she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and tips her face to the morning sun, soaking up its warmth. This morning, finding her in the shower practically burning herself just looking to be warm, it broke my heart. I got her the warmest sweatshirt I knew I had. She seemed to have no idea how hot the water actually was. And when Fredia had come to get me, she had been under the hot water for at least forty-five minutes. I don’t understand how this woman could be so aware of some things but not of others. It’s like, if there is an outside force looking to cause harm, she tries to combat it yet when it’s herself, there is nothing left.

She opens her eyes and looks around the yard. When she looks at me, I see the hesitation in her movements. At first, I think she is going to bolt. Instead, she walks to me, lifts her hand pauses, then extends her hand until it reaches mine. The simple gesture has my heart skip a beat, and electricity zips through me, it means so much more than anyone with my knowledge could ever understand. More concerning is how right it feels. Even with her being my captive, with being another mans wife. It feels like it was meant to be my hand she should be holding. I look from our hand to her face. A small smile forms her face. The breath is stolen from my lungs because this time the dazzling smile is for me. Before I have the chance to get it back, Isabelle pulls my hand trying to pull me along with her and tries to take off with me in toe. At first I don’t move, confused.

“Please?” She pulls harder now using both hands. “I want to go out there.” She lets go long enough to point further into the garden. The realization comes over me. She is trying to run, but not away. She is taking me to show that she isn’t trying to leave, just explore. I can’t help but chuckle a little to myself.

“Okay, okay mo stor.” The term of endearment just slips out. But it feels right. She either doesn’t hear me or doesn’t understand that I’ve called her a treasure. Either way I start to follow her, as she keeps her hand so firmly in mine.

“It so beautiful out here. And it smells better than it looks.” The smile hasn’t left her face since when left the porch. Her eyes for once have something other than the void. No today they hold awe and wonder at everything they see.

“Me ma put everything out here together. It was her favorite past time.” I say slipping deep into the accent I try hard to keep tame. But when I am relaxed it comes out. And here with her I have somehow become relaxed enough for it to happen.

“What part of Ireland are you from?”

“Gallway.” I speak. Not at all minding the personal questions since I have a few of my own. “We came here when I was fifteen. Took me awhile to Americanize my accent.”

“That’s a shame I like it.” She says then her face turns bright red and lowers her head, like she is embarrassed of the words that slipped from her lips. If it were any other woman, I would say it was seduction but from her it just shows truth.

“ye, well not everyone can understand, specially when I first got here and it was half English half Gallic.” I let out a little laugh. I am kind of probing to see if she knows anything about my native tongue.

“ I can understand the accent but I don’t remember Gallic.” She admits sheepishly. I am a little shocked at that.

“Oh, how so?” She looks around like she is looking for someone then looks back at me nervously.

“My mom, her parents were from Ireland. I don’t know when they got here but they never lost the accent. And barely spoke English inside there home. But they died when I was very young.”

That is news to me. From all accounts, she is said to be Italian. Most Italians would never marry an Irish. She see’s the confusion on my face. And starts to panic.

“I’m not supposed to tell anyone that..” she begins to shake and tries to let go of my hand. I don’t let her, instead I pull her into my chest holding her tight.

“shh no mo stor.” I pet her hair. “Its okay. Your secret is safe with me.” and never a truer word was spoke because if Alessandro doesn’t already know its not me he will hear it from. To my surprise her shaking slows and she actually relaxes.

“Dad knew but he was Italian, he didn’t mean to marry her but when he found out about her being pregnant he didn’t have a choice. He makes mom color her red hair, cover her freckles. Me I was just lucky to come out with the dark hair and only show freckles in the sun.” she continues softly, not trying to move from my embrace.

“Your eyes make sense now.” She looks up catching me in those very same eyes. “They are too beautiful to be anything other than Irish.” We stare at each other, eyes locked in a trance. Her eyes dip to my lips. She licks her own drawing my own eyes to hers. When we lock eyes again hers are slightly hooded. She leans in and my heart picks up because damn I want to kiss her so bad, and she seems to want the same, so I lean forward slowly watching carefully. Part of me can’t believe I’m going to do this, while that creature in my head screams at me to close the gap.

Nothing in life has felt so right than this moment.