Beauty and the Dark (3 page)

Sofia

M
y sister gently places her hand on my back and steers me towards the fireplace. I realize I am shivering. She positions me with the tree on my left and the fireplace on my right. I take a sip of my wine. It tastes sweet and smoky. I take another sip. And another.

Slowly the heat from the fireplace warms my back while I stand there silently, and listen to my sister talking to Lana. I notice that Lana has taken the cue from my sister and does not try to draw me into their conversation. The mulled wine seeps into my veins, warming and relaxing me.

No one approaches us and I begin to feel protected and hidden away amongst the greenery and tight circle made by my sister and Lana. My body loosens. My skin feels warm and glowing. This is not so bad. I can do this.

For the first time I notice the music playing discreetly in the background. I listen to the snatches of conversation floating around me. The waitresses circulate with platters of finger food. I can’t eat a thing so I shake my head politely.

From across the room I catch Guy’s glance and smile back. A look of relief crosses his face. Someone comes up to whisper something in Lana’s ear. She excuses herself and follows the woman. My sister turns to me and beams. I can see that she is pleased with me.

I smile back mistily. I am more than a little tipsy.

“You’re doing very well,” she whispers, bestowing me with a truly radiant smile. “I’m
so
proud of you.”

Another woman comes to join us. Lena introduces us. I smile and nod politely, then tune out of their conversation. I turn my gaze to the window. There is a thick layer of snow on the ground and the Barrington’s garden looks like a winter wonderland.

From my vantage point I can see the edge of what looks like a massive conservatory. It is softly lit with round yellow lamps and seems to have a mature orange tree in it! The tree is at least seven or eight feet tall with a thick trunk and branches groaning with fruit. Instantly, I am seized by the need to go and have a closer look.

“I’m just going to find the toilet,” I tell Lena. I don’t want to drag her with me or ruin her party. I just want to look at the tree.

“I’ll come with you,” she says immediately.

I touch her hand in a stopping gesture. “No, I’ll be fine.”

She stares at me. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay I’ll be right here waiting for you.”

I nod and leave the room. The alcohol makes me feel as if I am floating. I drift down the thankfully empty hallway towards the conservatory. I open the door and gasp.

It is not a conservatory at all, but a breathtakingly beautiful orangery. Whoever the Barrington’s gardener is, he is a genius of color and texture. He has created a magical garden where everything is in season. Oranges, lemons, limes, bananas, strawberries, chilies. Even the flowering plants are all in bloom.

There are roses, lilies, japonica berries, scarlet willow, and a whole load of other flowers I don’t recognize. The rich smell of the earth mixes with the sweet scent of jasmine and fills my nostrils. I move deeper into the garden, my high heels sinking into the soil. Impulsively, I take my shoes off and let my feet feel the cold soil.

Baby steps.

I let my fingers trail over the velvety petals of a white trumpet flower and smile to myself. For the first time since we left the castle I feel glad that I came out. I feel brave and oddly happy.

As I stand there congratulating myself, the door at the opposite end of the entrance I came in from is suddenly opened. I whirl around in a panic and almost laugh with relief. An adorable little boy in blue pajamas and bare feet comes in and closes the door behind him.

For an instant he looks almost ghostly pale standing against the dark of the night. Then he takes another couple of steps closer and comes into the circle of light cast by one of the lamps. I know instantly that he must be Lana and Blake’s son, Sorab. He has his mother’s beautiful eyes, the lashes long and sweeping down his cheeks, but the rest of his face is all his father’s. Lena was right, he is indeed adorable.

“Hello,’ I say, pleased by his appearance. I thought we had arrived too late and I had missed the opportunity of meeting him or his sister.

“Hello,” he replies, staring up at me with huge eyes.

“What are you doing up at this time of the night?”

“I had a bad dream and I couldn’t sleep. I was looking out of my window.’ He turns and points to a first floor window across the garden. Next to it is a balcony with a wrought iron spiral staircase coming down from it. “And I saw you here. I thought you were a Christmas angel.”

I laugh, all the stress and dread of tonight momentarily gone. “A Christmas angel? That is certainly not me.”

“Why are you here on your own then?” he demands.

“I was at your parents’ party, but I came in here to look at the orange tree.”

He rubs his eyes and yawns. “Oh.”

“So you had a bad dream, huh?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, nodding solemnly.

“Want to come over here and tell me what it was about?” I ask, pointing to a bench behind me.

He walks over and we sit next to each other. His feet do not touch the ground and there is about a foot between us. He looks up at me and I raise my eyebrows encouragingly.

He slouches. “I dreamed of a dragon.”

“You did?” I can’t help exclaiming.

He looks at me with curious, surprised eyes. “Don’t you dream of dragons then?”

I shake my head. “Never.” I smile. “Is it very exciting to see a dragon in your dreams?”

He swings his legs back and forth. “Sometimes. I like it best when I’m flying with them though.”

Completely entranced, I turn more fully in his direction. “What were you doing with them this time?”

“I was fighting an evil, fire-breathing dragon. I won, but my horse died in the fire.” His voice sounds sad.

“Oh my. That’s awful,” I say, shocked by the violence in such a small child’s nightmare.

“What are you doing out of bed, Sorab?” a man’s voice rings out.

I nearly jump out of my skin. I swivel my head around and see a tall, broad man standing at the doorway. My breath catches. He is without doubt the most beautiful man I have seen in my whole life. Not even in magazines have I seen a face such as his.

Thick, straight charcoal hair falls onto his forehead. His eyebrows are straight and strong and his cheekbones and jaw are sculptured ivory. He is not wearing a suit like all the other men, but a black shirt rolled up at the sleeves. There are tattoos curling out of them. It is immediately obvious that he is different than all the other men at the party.

Like me he doesn’t belong here.

My heart is still pounding from being startled by him, and my whole body is urging me to run back to my sister’s side, but something else, something I’ve never felt before roots me to the spot. As still as a statue I gape at him. 

Sofia

“U
ncle Jack,” the boy shouts delightedly and, jumping to the ground, runs to him.

The man grins and lifts him up easily, and swings him around. I am filled with a strange sense of loss. I am the outsider. I am always the outsider.

I stand nervously. I wish they were not blocking the doorway so I could slip out unnoticed and return to my safe spot between Lena and the Christmas tree. I even contemplate going out through the door the boy had come in from, but have to discard that idea quickly since I have no idea how to get back to the main room from the garden.

“I should be getting back to the party,” I squeak.

The man puts the boy down and looks at me. His eyes are so blue they burn like twin Bunsen burner flames in his face. My pulse begin to race.

“What’s the rush, Sofia?” he asks.

I freeze with horror and stare at him in astonishment and shock.

Oh good God! No. He knows me.

It cannot be.

Surely even I can’t be that unlucky.

This is my first trip out since my rescue. How is it possible that I’ve run into someone who has been inside me before? Still, how could I have not remembered such a beautiful man? Impossible even in my drug fueled haze. Maybe he recognized me from those videos that Valdislav made.
Open your legs, Sofia. Wider, Sophia. Wider still, Sofia.
Burning shame rushes up my neck and face.

He narrows his eyes. “Are you okay?”

“How do you know me?” I gasp.

He shrugs. “Someone mentioned that Lena was bringing her sister. Since I know all the other guests I guessed you had to be her.”

The relief that pours into my body is indescribable. My knees feel weak with it.
He doesn’t know me. He doesn’t know me.

He holds his hand out. ‘Jack Irish.”

I hesitate, looking down at his large, strong hand for a few seconds, then,
It’s all right Sofia. It’s safe.
I place mine in his. An electric current zaps me at the point of contact and goes right through me, making me jump. I snatch my hand back.

His eyes glitter with curiosity.

I know I am behaving strangely, but I cannot help myself. I feel vulnerable and exposed as if those blue eyes can see into my very soul. Fortunately, at that moment I see Lana and my sister coming towards us.

“There you are,” my sister calls gaily, but she can’t keep the tinge of worry out of her voice.

“Hello, Jack. I see you’ve all met.” Lana looks down at her son. “What do you think you’re doing out of bed, young man?”

“Look, Mummy, you’re standing under the mistletoe,’ Sorab cries gleefully pointing up.

We all look upwards, and not only Lana, but even Lena and I are standing under a garland of mistletoe, red apples, and rosettes of colored paper suspended from the ceiling.

For a few seconds a strange tension fills the air. The air throbs with it. I shift my eyes to Lana. There is a strange strained smile on her face. Before I can figure out what is happening Jack curls his powerful hands around my upper-arms and, bending his head, brushes his cool, beautifully full lips against mine.

I am so stunned I stop breathing. As he lifts his head, I stare up at him with disbelief. His eyes are dark, his jaw is clenched, and there is a muscle jerking furiously in his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Sofia,” he mutters.

I blink in confusion, my whole body in an incredible turmoil. He kissed me. A total stranger just kissed me. Why did he pick me? Do I look sluttish? Did I act skanky or cheap?

Valdislav used to say I always acted like I ‘wanted some’ but I thought he was lying. He said I was a natural born whore. Women like me were meant to be hookers. All kinds of images suddenly whirl into my head.

Men doing things to me. Touching me. Entering me. Forcing me.

Me smiling, smiling, smiling. Always pretending to be the happy hooker. Giving everybody their money’s worth.

The memories come faster and faster. I don’t know what to do to stop these ugly images. I open my mouth, but no sound will come out. I forget my surroundings and feel myself sway. I am going to faint.

In a flash Lena pushes forward and takes both my hands in hers. I fight to focus my gaze on her. Her lips are smiling, but her eyes are blazing fiercely, willing me not to fall apart.

“It’s okay,” she whispers passionately in Russian. “I’m here. Nothing can happen to you while Guy and I are around. You know that. He was just being friendly. It is their custom. It means nothing.” 

I close my mouth and nod. She is right. Of course, she is right. The images are already whirling away. I’m safe. Nothing bad has happened. I simply over-reacted. It was the shock of having a man’s lips on mine. I did not expect it. I clench my hands into fists to stop them from shaking.

I know everyone is staring at me with shock. What a fool I have made of myself. I dare not even look up and meet Jack’s gaze. He must think I am weird or crazy.

“Let’s go get a drink, I know I could do with one,” Lena says gently.

I smile shakily and nod.

“You guys go ahead while I put this little monster back in his bed,” Lana says.

“Nah. I’ve got him. I’ll catch you guys later,” Jack says.

I still don’t look at him.

“Nite, nite, Sorab,” Lena says.

As for me, I am unable to utter a single sound.

“Come on, Sofia.” My sister puts her hand on my arm and starts to guide me away.

As we leave the corridor I turn my head towards the glass walls and see Jack with Sorab sitting on his shoulders moving quickly through the snow covered garden.

Sorab is gripping his head and laughing at something he said. My gaze lingers on them for a while longer as they start to climb the wrought iron staircase before I turn resolutely away.

How strange.

My heart is calling to him. 

Jack

I
read to Sorab and stay with him until his eyelids flutter closed. It is only then that I no longer see Lana in his little face.

For so long I loved her.

For so long I thought she was mine.

I’d spent my whole life protecting her, caring for her, wanting her, then one day, without any warning, she belonged to someone else, and there was not a fucking thing I could do about it.

I was young. I thought I had time.

Fool, that I was, I was waiting for the right moment. I was so sure I knew her. I thought there would not be a single thing she could do that would surprise me. How fucking wrong I was.

Right under my nose, she went and sold herself to a billionaire banker to pay for her mother’s cancer treatment. What could I say? I was a student. I didn’t have a pot to piss in. She needed the money. He wanted a mistress. It was an arrangement made in hell.

The rest, as they say, is history.

I was furious with myself for being so cocksure, but I hated Blake so much I wanted to kill him. Day and night I couldn’t think of anything else but him touching her, making love to what I had marked as mine. It drove me fucking crazy so I left the country. I joined Doctors Without Borders and asked to be sent to Africa.

Losing Lana broke my heart, but Africa destroyed and scarred me forever. There, I lost my faith in humanity. The poverty, the cruelty, the corruption, the suffering, the massacres, the injustices, the daily indignities I witnessed.

Even now there are nights I can’t sleep for the terrible things I have seen. The corpses rotting in the heat, the women mad with grief, and the staring, starving children. Their dark eyes haunt me still.

At that time my life was meaningless to me so I would specifically request to go to the most dangerous war-torn areas. Unprotected by UN trucks, I went into rebel controlled areas to rescue children from orphanages. The ‘rebels’ were usually merciless psychopaths intoxicated with the power that comes from unadulterated brutality, but I had no fear of death.

I stood in front of men wielding machine guns and dared them to shoot me. I think I shocked them. They called me the Mad White Man, but they were intrigued by me. Sometimes they brought their wounded to me and I healed them. My attitude was simple. Bring a broken body to me and I’ll never turn it away.

That’s what I was put on this earth to do.

I watch Sorab’s little chest as it moves, even and deep. Sometimes he will smile in his sleep. Today he doesn’t. I love this kid. I think I transferred all the love I had for his mother onto him. When I look at Lana now, that burning love is gone. From its ashes has come this pure love for this tiny human she created. He is my godson and he is my hope. In this ugly world this little gentle soul is sprouting quietly. Maybe, just maybe, one day he will make a difference.

With the back of one finger I gently stroke his silky hair.

“Sleep, little Sorab.”

Quietly, I stand and walk to the door. I open it, take one last look at the sleeping child, and shut it quickly so the freezing air doesn’t get in. I key in the alarm code and wait for the green light to come on before I turn away.

I stand on the metal platform for a second looking down at the snow covered garden. It’s beautiful. A sigh escapes me. I go down the steps and instead of walking back to the party I stand in the shadows and look in through the tall windows.

I see Lana laughing at something someone has said, and I see Blake listen quietly to a blond man, but my eyes are searching. Searching for a girl in a white dress and enormous, brown eyes. So huge they could light up a man’s dark soul.

I find her half-hidden amongst the foliage of the Christmas tree.

“Sofia.” I test the name on my lips. My breath mists. Her name is like conjuring up a magic spell.

I watch her smile and nod at the things the people around her are saying, but it is clear that she is miles away. I stare at her. Her hair is in a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She is delicate, tentative and nervous. Like a bird, or a newborn fawn. Definitely not my type. I’m a sucker for girls with long legs. The longer the better. Bold girls who take what they want and leave in the morning without too much fuss.

Yet, she fascinates me. Immensely.

I only kissed her because there was no way in hell I was kissing Lana. That way lay old wounds, confusion, and sleepless nights. I will love Lana forever, but like a sister. Those old dreams are all dead now.

Sofia’s reaction to such a simple brush of my lips was astounding. The way she stared up at me. White as a sheet. Shocked. Disbelieving. As if I had reached into her body and ripped out her heart. I thought she was going to fucking faint at my feet.

Her sister must have thought the same. She moved in quickly, held onto her trembling hands tightly, and fiercely said something to her in their native tongue.

I’ve seen that exact same expression that was in Sofia’s eyes once before. When I was in Africa, a thirteen-year old girl was brought in while I was on duty. Her village had been attacked. Everyone in it was dead. She alone had survived, but she had been gang raped and set on fire. When I came to her she was half-lying, half-sitting on the bed. She looked up at me as I approached.

It was a strange look. If you didn’t know better you’d think that person was unaffected by what had happened to them. I remember watching her scratch her leg and swat away a fly that was trying to land on her skin as if a third of her body was not raw and her insides had not been ripped to shreds and hanging out between her legs. 

I knew as I treated her burns, sewed her up, and bandaged her as best I could that she would never heal from that trauma. She would forever be shattered inside. When her uncle came from another village a week later to carry her away, I stood outside the clinic under the heat of the African sun. I was so angry with the way things were that I wanted to scream at God.

Look at what you have allowed. Look. Look.

The uncontrollable fury is gone. I have dulled it with alcohol and mindless activities.

I gaze through the window at Sofia and I wonder what happened to her. Whatever it is it has scarred her for life. Something moves inside me. Old grief. It makes my gunshot wound hurt. It’s been a long time since I felt that emotion. I rub the scar through my shirt. Somewhere in the distance I hear a fox calling.

Silently, I pray that one day a man will brush his lips against hers and she won’t shake with terror, but curl her hands around his neck and kiss him back. I pray she will find the happiness I never did.

The snow swirls around me. It’s freezing without my coat.

I should go back in and join the party, but I don’t have the heart for it. I can’t stand around sipping mulled wine. Remembering the burnt girl has brought back memories I thought I’d forgotten.

I go through the rose arbor that looks truly glorious in summer and out to the front of the house. Leticia lets me in the front door.

“Get me my coat, will ya?”

She smiles at me flirtatiously. She’s tall with long legs, my kind of girl, but I really don’t need to fuck Blake’s staff. “You’re not leaving surely?” she dimples at me.

“Yeah. Merry Christmas to you.”

I go down to my local. It is thick with happy people. Christmas carols are playing in the background. Someone calls my name. I turn around. Tommy waves. He is holding a pint glass. Not of beer, but whiskey! I wave back.

I already know how the night will end. I’ll get drunk. Maybe someone will be stupid enough to pick a fight with me. Goddamn, I could do with punching someone’s face in tonight. Or better still a girl with long, lean legs will offer her bed for the night.

It’s Christmas Eve, after all.