Intaglio: Dragons All The Way Down (12 page)

Now they all
felt like lies.

“At first, it
was because you and I were… apart.”  She said cautiously.  “Later, when Hanna
died and things got bad with Angela, it just seemed unnecessary.”  She cleared
her throat.  “And then… and then Angela took her life, and I just… I didn’t
know how to tell you.”

“Oh, Nina,” he
choked, but she kept speaking. 

“Lately with
these issues with Cole, and the things you are talking about, I just thought I
should say it.  Get it out in the open.”

Frank’s fingers
had gone back to the golden bands on her finger.  He stared down at their
joined fists, crumpling under the weight of her admission like a sail without
wind.

“Sorry,” she
whispered.  “I should have told you long ago.”

The words
lingered between them, only the steady spinning of the wedding rings continuing. 
With a heavy sigh, Frank looked at her, his face defeated.

“You’re not the
only one with secrets, Nina.  You know that.”

She smiled
sadly, nodding. 

“You need to
tell Cole what happened with Angela.”

All of Frank’s
rage was abruptly present on his face.  His hands dropped away, pulling back
into fists.

“No!” he
growled.  “I don’t think I–  …I can’t—” he stammered, face growing red.  This
had never been an easy topic for either of them.

“Yes, Frank,”
she repeated, reaching out to touch his knee.  “You have to.”

He stood, anger
roiling around him like thunder clouds. He stormed across the floor and didn’t
look back.

“You can’t keep
running from this!” Nina shouted, but he was already slamming the bedroom door
behind him.

On the wall, the
picture of his first wife and her two children shuddered, then stilled once
more in its frame.  Angela smiled on, indifferent to the family drama.  This
had always been her house after all.

: : : : : : : :
: :

Half an hour
later, Frank Thomas was in his den, the television now silent. 

He’d wandered
the house since his argument with Nina, unsettled and outraged.  He stood in
front of the wall of framed photographs which documented the early years of his
marriage to Angela Draper and before that, to his parents and grandparents as
they passed through the generations.  There was a picture of young Angela, her
head tipped back in laughter, looking much as she did when they’d first met,
long waves of fair hair and a wide smile.

His gaze was
trapped by this picture, snared the same way he’d been when he’d first met her.

‘I was so in
love…’

There were
times, like tonight, when it was harder to remember her laughter.  During the
long years between then and now, he’d tried to focus on remembering her like
this, but he wondered if he’d been wrong to do that.  He reached out, his
fingers hesitantly touching the cool glass in the frame, wondering what she’d
say if she could see him.  But Angela had died years earlier, and tonight her
voice – either in joy or in pain – seemed far, far away.

Frank pulled his
hand back, his eyes on the open ‘o’ of her mouth, the crinkled joy in her
half-closed eyes.

“We were happy
once,” he said to the empty room, then turned and walked away.

Ava was in the
shower, her body shaking with post-adrenaline jitters.  The confrontation with
Cole’s father left her feeling the same giddiness she’d once gotten after a
close call with the police.  She let the hot water sluice over her skin,
surrounding her in a bubble of heat and noise.  Soothing her. 

Her eyes drifted
closed; a vague image, hazy like the mist filling the bathroom, floated in the
back of her mind.  It was a dream she’d had, or a book she’d once read.  She
couldn’t quite remember when…

She’d been
huddled on the docks for hours when he found her.  Unlike her mother and
sisters, Thomas knew she came here, and she knew he knew this…   The sound of
his footsteps had her heart quickening in anticipation.

“Your mam will
tan your hide if you don’t get home before nightfall, y’know.” 

His voice came
from the distance, warm with hinted laughter, despite the warning.

“Mother can go
right ahead and try,” she muttered sullenly, voice half hidden by her woollen
cloak .  “I would rather sit…”

Ava was pulled
from her reverie by the sound of the bathroom door opening.  She peeked past
the curtain in concern, catching sight of Cole pulling off his clothes, kicking
them into the corner.  He had dark circles under his eyes, the tip of his nose
red, fingertips purple, the rest of his skin muted by the cold.

“You’re back,”
Ava said in surprise. 

The last time
he’d taken off, he’d been gone for hours.  He’d hardly been gone forty minutes
tonight.  Cole shrugged sheepishly.

“Sorry I
couldn’t talk to you right away,” he said bashfully.  “I know I should’ve
tried, but I just was so fucking mad, and that always kind of freaks you out.”

She nodded. 
What he’d said was true. It was that aspect of his personality that unnerved
her, though getting to know Frank Thomas had certainly put Cole’s anger into
perspective. Undressed and shivering, Cole pulled back the curtain, letting in
a blast of cold air as he climbed into the shower with her.

“I’m glad you’re
here,” Ava said, moving sideways to give Cole room under the stream of water. 

“Me too.”

He pulled her
into his arms.  Cole’s skin was icy from the winter air, his fingers clammy and
cold.  He burrowed his face against her neck, warming him while chilling her,
the water pouring over them both.  Her arms were tight around him.  She was
surprised he was back with her now, not quite sure what to make of it.  But
Cole had been trying lately, rather than shutting down altogether, and that
made her chest ache with love for him. 

She waited in
silence, letting Cole’s chilled hands, the thrum of the water, the white noise
of the shower tow her back into a hazy lull. The almost-memory was there,
waiting in the clouds.

Thomas’ laughter
echoed from the fog as he approached, and for the first time in hours, Ava
smiled, despite her dark mood.  She couldn’t see him through the rain, but his
tread she’d know anywhere. 

His footsteps
turned hollow as he reached the dock.  Ava turned, slipping back her hood to
look over her shoulder.  The sound of steps hinted at his nearness as Thomas
came through the soggy blanket of mist, appearing by degrees.  First a dark
blue shadow, then lighter, then finally just him, smiling down at her despite
the bedraggled sight she knew she must be.

He reached her
side, dropping nimbly beside her.  He was just far enough away to be
appropriate, though the thought of that infuriated her.  She wanted more.

“You’ve got
everyone worried, Ava,” he said quietly.  He was staring ahead, looking out
over the wrinkled black sheet of the sea, the white crescents rising and
falling with each gust.  “You’ve got to go back now.  Fight with your mam or
no.”

Ava shook her
head, turning to stare out at the ocean with him.  She was glad it was still
raining. He wouldn’t be able to see she’d been crying . 

“If I go home,
she’ll want to know...”

Cole’s hands
began to roam her body, leaving Ava’s skin rising in gooseflesh under his
fingertips.  Despite the heat of the shower, a chill had settled into her body,
cold leeching into her core. Cole’s mouth dropped against the white column of
her neck, his hands running up her ribs to cup her breasts.  

She shivered,
mind drifting again…

The icy hand of
rain had soaked through the cloak, chilling her. 

“What exactly
does your mam want to know?” he asked. 

Ava glanced at
him furtively from under rain-dampened lashes.

“My answer to
Jon,” she said quietly.

Thomas knew Jon
had asked her, of course.  That was no secret.  But he didn’t know she’d
considered it.  He turned, moving forward (nearing that space he never
entered).  Perhaps it was to hear her better, perhaps (she hoped) it was
because it bothered him.

“What of it?” he
asked.  “What answer did you give?”  There was a blunt desperation to his
question, the joking tone gone.

 He’d asked for
her hand in marriage too.  And she’d waited, so far...

Cole pressed her
up against the wall of the shower, his fingers touching her everywhere at
once.  The cold tiles behind her meshed with the icy pall of his skin, the
water from the faucet cooling as the shower lingered on.  Cole’s mouth was the
only point of warmth, and Ava gasped as he dropped lower, tugging one nipple
into his mouth, his hands sliding over slick skin.

“I told him I
would consider his offer,” she answered.

“Consider it?” 
There was indignation in every line of his face. His hands reached out, taking
her by the arms and dragging her forward.  “You promised ME!”

The accusation
was a lash against bare skin.

“I HAD to!” she
yelped.  “My mother KNEW he asked me!  She… she… insisted I think of things. 
Think of the future of my sisters and—”

“And what of OUR
future?”

His eyes were
wild and panicked, another lash of the whip.  Thomas had spent every spare hour
the last four months working endless odd jobs, trying to save money for passage
to America.  There, he said, they could start again.  It would be their
beginning.  There it wouldn’t matter that they had not a single haypenny
between them.

“I… I cannot
WAIT any longer!” she cried.

His hands were
tight around her arms, holding her in place. Shackling her.

“What of how you
FEEL, Ava? What of that?”

“It does not
matter what I feel!” she sobbed. “Not when we cannot—”

“It does!” he
interrupted.  “Does he make you feel like I do?  Do you love Jon like you love
me?”

“Thomas,
please.”

He pulled her
forward, his mouth angling nearer.

“You tell me
THIS doesn’t matter,” he growled.

Ava moaned as
the sensation of his mouth against her breast became too sharp, pain mingling
with pleasure.  She let her head thud against the wall, her body quaking under
each brush of his fingers over her hip, between her thighs. 

“Please,” she
gasped, her mind still caught on the ghostly-memory of sitting in the rain,
Cole’s mouth overtop hers. 

At her plea, he
released her nipple, sliding up against her, fingers threading into her wet
hair.  Her chest was tight with something… throat aching.  The room was almost
white with steam, his face hazy as he reached her lips.

“Please what?”
he whispered, his hips against hers, leaning closer. 

She wrapped her
arms over his shoulders.

“Kiss me like
you mean it.”

Suddenly Thomas
was kissing her, his mouth hard against her lips.  Gone were the chaste summer
kisses in the lane behind the church. These were wanton and needful, a man’s
kisses, not a boy’s.  Ava gaped in shock.  In a second his tongue was pushing
into her mouth, dipping in to taste her, his fingers sliding into her hair,
shoving back the cowl of the cloak in his haste.  The rain against both their
faces.

The sound of the
shower pounded like the rain, heat slowly spreading between them.  His mouth
was against her, kissing her breath away.  Their teeth and tongues were rough
as they came together, need burning away the last of the chill.  They were both
out of breath when Cole pulled back, his teeth grazing the edge of her jaw,
biting her skin and then suckling her earlobe.

“Love you, Ava,”
Cole growled, his mouth hovering above the shell of her ear.  “Always…”

“Love you too,”
she panted.

In the last
minutes, his fingers had finally warmed, lighting a path of fire where they
touched her.  He slid his hands underneath her, pinning her against the wall. 
Scrabbling for purchase, Ava hitched a leg over his hip as his body held her in
place, connection nearing.

“Tell me what
you want,” Cole growled against her open lips, punctuating his words with
kisses.

She moaned in response. 
She could feel the heat of his body pressing against her, close but not joined.

“Tell me,” he
insisted, kissing her, then pulling back to look at her.  “I want to hear it.”

In the steam of
the shower, his hair looked longer, flattened against his face like a cap.  A
wave of déjà vu had risen inside her, leaving her trembling, but not with cold.

“I… I want you,”
she whispered.

The kiss was
reckless and rough, months of suppressed desires suddenly released.  Ava found
herself moving into it – every hissed warning by her mother forgotten in an
onslaught of need.  She ran eager hands over his shoulders, the sodden cloak
wrapping half over him as he tugged her onto his lap on the dock.  She wouldn’t
think anymore.  Wouldn’t decide.  She would just let herself feel… to follow
her heart this time and nothing else.  Even the rain no longer felt so cold.