Fairytale Come Alive

Chapter Sixteen The Day Elle Austin Awoke

Fiona

The next day, Elle Austin awoke.

Fiona watched it.

And, when it happened, Fiona smiled.

Elle

Elle woke to the bed bouncing.

She had no time to think of the night before.

She had no time to think of one word of the life changing conversation she’d shared with Prentice.

She had no time to think even of the strange sense of disquiet she felt when Prentice led her from the balcony into his room, tenderly disrobed her, tugged one of his t-shirts over her head and put her to bed. It was a disquiet she couldn’t put her finger on but it felt like someone she cared about was in pain.

She had no time to think of any of this because Sally, who was on her knees at the foot of the bed, shouted, “Good morning!”

Prentice’s fingers unlaced from hers and they both got up on an elbow to look to the foot of the bed.

Then Prentice rolled to his back, his arm pushing under Elle as he did so, turning her so her front was to his side, his arm tight, fastening her there.

“Come here, baby,” Prentice murmured to his daughter, his voice deeper with residual sleep and Elle decided she liked his just woken up voice.

She liked it a lot.

Sally didn’t hesitate; she crawled up Prentice’s body.

Elle decided she liked that too, watching Sally crawl up her father’s long body.

She liked it a lot.

As Sally collapsed on Prentice’s chest, her eyes never left Elle and she announced, “Me and Jace have made you muffins!”

Fear shot through Elle at the very thought of Sally and Jason operating the oven.

“You what?” she whispered.

Prentice’s voice was a great deal more effective when he asked, low and vibrating, “I’m sorry?”

“We didn’t cook them.” They heard from across the room and all the inhabitants of the bed looked to the door.

Jason was standing there, his stance awkward, his expression showing, quite clearly, he didn’t know what to make of the goings-on in the bed.

Elle’s body went tight.

And when it did, so did Prentice’s arm.

“We just made them and put the batter in the tin. We thought Elle could cook them,” Jason gamely continued, still obviously uncomfortable.

It was then it hit her that Jason called her Elle. Not only then but he and Sally had been doing it for days. Even in front of Prentice, who never corrected them.

She felt something relax deep inside her, something that had been coiled tight for so long she didn’t know it could relax.

But it did.

“I’ll cook them,” Prentice offered, completely unaware of the momentous event that happened someplace deep inside Elle. “How’d you make them, Jace?”

Jason looked to the floor, shuffled his feet and mumbled, “One of Mum’s cookbooks.” He took in a deep breath and looked at the wall. “Mum never made them though.” His eyes skittered to the bed then to the opposite wall before he finished, “They’re blueberry. We used the leftovers.”

Elle’s heart went out to him and she wanted to say something, she just had no clue what to say.

Sally, on the other hand, never had any problem knowing what to say.

“Jace decided that we should make Elle breakfast to pay her back, since she’s always making us breakfast.” Sally grinned at her father. “We had fun.”

Elle wondered briefly what Sally’s version of fun did to the kitchen.

Then she looked to Jason and said softly, “Thank you, honey.”

Jason didn’t reply. He looked like he was willing himself to spontaneously combust.

Then he muttered, “I’ll just go and –”

Prentice cut him off by calling, “Hey mate, I’ve a question for you.”

Jason eyes hesitantly went to his father.

Prentice kept talking. “What do you think, is Elle ticklish or no’?”

Elle’s body went tight again as Prentice’s arm locked around her and Sally’s head snapped to the side to look at her.

Elle tried to jerk away, saying warningly, “Pren –”

“Aye!” Sally squealed. “I think she is!”

Then Sally pounced.

Prentice turned to Elle. As Sally wriggled and writhed, trying to get to Elle’s ticklish spots with her fast-moving, little girl fingers, Prentice held her against him with one arm and tickled her with his free hand.

Relentlessly.

But then Prentice knew where her ticklish spots were already.

Giggling so helplessly she could barely move, she managed to turn her back to Prentice but he kept her close and continued tickling her. Finally getting control of Sally’s squirming body and tickling hands, Elle pinned Sally’s back to her front and returned the favor, giggling as she tickled Sally while the little girl laughed herself silly.

They all stopped when the bed bounced and they looked at its foot. Jason was sprawled on his side, his eyes were dancing and a smirk was on his lips.

“I’d say she’s ticklish,” Jason muttered dryly.

Elle heard Prentice chuckle.

Elle and Sally didn’t laugh, they both just smiled at Jason.

“All right, everybody up. It’s muffin time,” Prentice ordered.

Sally scattered and Jason rolled off the bed.

Elle stayed where she was, mainly because she wasn’t wearing any underwear.

Prentice also remained in bed and it was highly likely this was because he wasn’t wearing anything.

“Jace, shut the door. We’ll be down in a minute,” Prentice called.

“Aye,” Jason replied.

Sally turned at the door and asked, “Can we switch on the oven?”

“No,” both Prentice and Elle replied.

Sally made a face, looked at her brother and trotted out the door.

Jason’s eyes took in Prentice and Elle, he looked to the floor and left, shutting the door behind him.

Prentice instantly rolled into Elle, taking her in his arms.

Elle tried to push away.

She failed.

“We need to get downstairs,” she informed him.

“Aye,” he replied softly, his eyes roaming her face. “But I need to kiss you first.”

“Pren –” she began but was cut off when he did what he said he needed to do.

She found, in short order, she needed it too.

Prentice was a good kisser. She hadn’t had many kisses but she still felt she could say with some authority, he was the best.

She was dazed when his mouth broke from hers.

His hand went to her jaw, his thumb running along her cheekbone.

“I forgot how ticklish you were.” He was still speaking in that soft voice, the voice that did funny things to her.

Concentrating on the funny things and how nice they made her feel, Elle didn’t reply.

“I used to tickle you all the time.” He grinned and continued, “When we weren’t fighting.” She watched as his grin faded but warmth hit his eyes when his thumb traced her lower lip while he watched. His gaze came back to hers and he murmured, “Do you remember?”

“I remember,” Elle whispered.

She remembered everything about him and the time they spent together.

Everything.

Considering he was close, Elle got lost in his every-colored eyes, counting the colors again, comparing the occurrences, fascinated by this activity even though she’d memorized the results.

His forehead touched hers, his hand at her jaw tensed and he growled, “I love it when you look at me like that. Always did.”

His growl slid through her like velvet.

Elle pressed into him.

His arm around her tightened but he sighed and lifted his head. “I need to cook muffins.”

He didn’t sound thrilled with this prospect.

“You do,” she replied, trying not to smile. Prentice started to roll, taking her with him when Elle locked her body, catching his attention and he stopped. “You also need to talk to Jace,” she said quietly.

Both his arms went around her and he gave her a squeeze, murmuring, “Aye.”

He pulled them from the bed, grabbed her panties from the floor, handed them to her and she slid them on while he put on his sweats. She was about to get her jeans when his hands came to her hips and he shuffled her to the door.

“I need to put on my jeans,” she told him, resisting and attempting to turn back into the room.

She failed at this too.

He reached in front of her and grasped the door handle, informing her, “You’re good.”

She was… good?

Was he mad?

She was in a t-shirt!

With effort, she turned to face him but he slid an arm around her waist and pulled her out of the door’s arc.

“I’m only wearing your t-shirt,” she reminded him unnecessarily as he could see she was only in his t-shirt.

“Aye,” he replied. “But you’re covered.”

She continued to resist as he forced her, hands again at her hips, through the door.

“Prentice! I’m in a t-shirt! I can’t eat breakfast with your children in a t-shirt!” she hissed.

“Why no’?” he asked casually.

She stared at him in disbelief as he shuffled her down the hall.

He caught sight of her face, stopped before they turned to the stairs and said, “It comes down to your thighs, baby. You’re far more covered than you were in your nightie when you made pancakes that first time.”

“I wasn’t just in a nightie. I was also wearing a robe,” she replied impatiently.

He grinned and his face got close as his hands slid down over her behind and pulled her hips to him. “That robe didn’t cover fuck all.”

“It certainly did!” she snapped.

His grin turned devilish. “Trust me. It did no’.”

She ignored how attractive his devilish grin was and this was hard to do, considering she hadn’t seen it in twenty years and she remembered how she particularly liked it. “It most certainly did.”

“Aye, I’ll admit, on the face of it, it did. If you have a creative imagination, which I do,” he said, his fingers tensing deliciously in the flesh of her backside. “It… did… no’.”

She was staggered.

“Are you saying…?”

“Aye.”

“Back then… when you…?”

“Aye.”

“You thought of me…?”

“Aye.”

He was growling again.

It felt like velvet again.

Regardless, Elle was stunned.

“But…” she whispered, “you hated me.”

All playfulness swept instantly from his face, his hands went to her waist and curled around, holding her close.

“I’ve never hated you, Elle.”

“But –”

“There were plenty of times I wanted to hate you, over the years and recently, but I could never do it.”

“But –”

“No’ ever.”

“Pren –”

He kissed her quiet.

He took his time and did this thoroughly.

When he lifted his head he repeated fiercely, “Baby. No’ ever.”

She felt tears hit her eyes and she whispered, “Really?”

He scanned her face and, for a second, she could swear, it looked like he was in pain.

He masked it before she could be sure and he whispered back, “Really.”

Something else wound up tight in her released and relaxed.

So did her body, right into his and he took her weight.

“Can I get my jeans?” she asked softly.

“No.”

Her body got tight again and she pulled slightly away, demanding, “Why not?”

Both his arms released her but only so both his hands could come to her jaw and tip her face up to his.

“Because last night you made a decision and now, today, you’re at home. When you’re at home you don’t have to dress to eat breakfast. When you’re at home you wear whatever-the-fuck you want to wear at breakfast.”

Last night she hadn’t made a decision.

He had.

And he hadn’t let her protest.

He was watching her as these thoughts went through her head and then he interrupted them.

“I can see this may take time to sink in for you,” he said then the devilish grin came back. “Luckily, I’m patient.”

He was not patient.

Or, at least, twenty years ago he wasn’t.

And evidence suggested he wasn’t now either.

“Pren –”

“Muffins.”

“Pren!”

He turned her around the corner that led to the stairs.

Sally saw them the minute they came into view and before Elle could form another protest, Sally shouted, “Hurrah! Now we can bake the muffins.”

Stymied.

With no choice, Elle went to the kitchen and sat on a stool in nothing but Prentice’s t-shirt, sipping coffee and surveying the chaos created by Jason and Sally making muffins.

They’d forgotten to grease the tins so they didn’t have full muffins, just the muffin tops that Jason and Prentice were able to pry from the tin.

Still, they weren’t half bad.

Fiona

Fiona knew it happened because Bella was tired.

She’d had a hectic day.

And Fiona had watched it all.

The tickling in bed (though she’d followed Jason when he left the room, worried about him after his reaction at seeing Bella and Prentice in his mother and father’s bed).

The conversation on the landing when Prentice (not letting any grass grow) set about righting the wrongs he’d inadvertently done Bella.

The disastrous muffin baking.

She also watched Bella clean the kitchen with Sally’s “help” which made the onerous task all the more onerous while Prentice went after Jason. During this, Fiona watched Bella bite her lip and fist her hands.

Fiona wanted to be with Jason and Prentice but Fiona knew her son. He was like his father. He felt deeply. But, in miraculously little time, he came to decisions and stuck by them, about people and events.

He knew his mind, Jason did, always had, even as a wee lad.

He might be confused but he’d sort it – with his father’s help.

Fiona was more worried about Bella.

She whispered words to soothe her friend as the time slid by while Prentice was upstairs with Jason.

Then, when this didn’t work, she shouted her soothing words.

Incredibly, this seemed to work and Bella began to focus more on Sally and making oatmeal cookies (and why they needed oatmeal cookies to add to the chocolate chip cookies in the cookie jar, Fiona had no idea) and less on tearing her palms with her nails.

When Prentice and Jason appeared again, Bella whirled to the stairs and watched them descend.

Jason had Fiona’s guitar.

Bella went pale.

“Elle, will you show me more chords today?” Jason asked.

Bella’s eyes flew to Prentice and Prentice gave Bella a wink.

Bella (and Fiona, even though hers was unnecessary as she didn’t breathe) let out a sigh.

“Sure, Jace. I just need to take a shower,” Bella answered.

While Bella showered, Fiona watched (and giggled) as Prentice moved her clothes into her new room.

Therefore, when she came out of the shower, she halted and stared at the underwear, jeans and jumper lying on the bed. An outfit she didn’t choose for herself.

She went to the wardrobe. Then she went to the drawers. Then she stared at the empty nightstand.

Then she pulled on her clothes in a tizzy and ran from the room.

She found Prentice walking out of the closet in Bella’s new room, her clothes from the drawers all over the still unmade bed.

She stood frozen.

Then she looked at him, eyes glassy, and mumbled, “Wha…?”

Prentice walked right up to her, cupped the back of her head in his hand and touched his lips to hers.

“Sort the drawers, will you, baby? I’m rubbish at that shit.”

Then he walked out as Bella gazed after him mutely.

Fiona giggled again.

Bella stood there a long time, staring at the bed.

She was still standing there after Prentice returned (twice), hands full of her things from the guest bathroom and he put them in her new bathroom.

His last trip, he got close, slid a hand along the small of her back and bent to her ear, “Baby. You need to sort it. Now. We’re going to the beach.”

She stared at him stupidly.

Then she repeated, “The beach?”

“Aye,” he looked at the bed, then at her, “or do you want to leave it until we get home?”

That woke her up and she shook her head wildly.

He grinned, gave her waist a squeeze and left the room.

Bella got busy and sorted the drawers. Then she made the bed. Then she went into the closet and sorted the mess Prentice had made of her hanging clothes.

Most of this time, Fiona giggled.

Bella and Sally packed a lunch and they went to the beach.

At the beach, Sally behaved like she always behaved even though Prentice took the children to the beach often both when Fiona was alive and after she died. In other words, like she’d been living in a cell her entire life and was only going to be let out for that one glorious day.

Bella kept up with her, as well as sat with Jason who’d brought along Fiona’s guitar and Fiona could say (with some pride) that she gave her son more than his hair, he was getting very good with the guitar and, the way he practiced (which was all the time, just like Fiona had) he was going to be great, and taught him some more chords.

At Jason’s insistence, Bella also played while Prentice and the kids watched. She was nervous and it took her time to settle in but, once she did, it was good.

Prentice was impressed and didn’t hide it.

Jason just smiled.

Bella, it was clear to see, was both pleased and embarrassed by the male Camerons’ reactions.

Sally was adamant that she was getting her own guitar and Bella was going to teach her to play it when she got her cast off.

They had lunch. They horsed around. They walked the beach and its cliff path, Prentice and Bella hand-in-hand, Jason going ahead on his own, Sally running back and forth, tiring herself out (Fiona’s daughter would sleep like a log that night, for certain).

They went home and it was all a go, sorting the spent picnic, making dinner, getting ready for school the next day as Sally was returning after her accident.

Bella had no time to think, she was kept busy all day.

Prentice, Fiona thought, was a genius.

Sally crashed within Bella reading two pages of her book.

Jason didn’t long follow.

Prentice was walking down the stairs after checking on the children when it happened.

Fiona was floating by Bella as she tiredly made herself some nighttime herbal tea.

She had her hand curled around the mug, holding the teabag string against the side, when she missed the mug and poured boiling water over her hand. She cried out in pain and set the kettle down with a clatter.

Prentice was there in a trice.

He got close. “Jesus, baby, what’d you do?”

“I poured…” she stopped and cried, “Ouch!”

“Get to the sink,” Prentice ordered, hustling her to the sink, he shoved her hand under and turned on the cold tap.

She held her hand under the tap as Prentice went to get ice. He returned and, front to her back, he reached his arms around her and held the ice to the angry red marks on Bella’s hand under the tap.

Fiona hovered close.

With his head dipped so his cheek was close to hers, he moved the ice around her fingers and whispered, “The burn is still working through, baby, we need to stop it. The ice won’t feel good but we need to keep it on there.”

“Okay,” Bella whispered back, her voice pinched with pain.

It took awhile before he noticed. The angry red marks were taking his attention from the calloused white marks in her palms.

But he noticed.

And Fiona noticed when he noticed because she watched as his body grew completely still.

Bella, tired and mind fogged with the pain, didn’t notice. He had actually uncurled her fingers with his thumb and tipped her palm up before Bella realized what he was about.

When he saw the marks, Prentice’s inhalation was a sharp hiss.

Instantly, Bella curled her hand in a fist and her body jerked to the side, seeking escape.

She was in a disadvantageous position with his arms around her, his body close; she had no hope of getting away.

And she didn’t.

He stepped in, pinning her against the sink, his arms locking at her sides, his thumb worked her fingers to open her fist.

Her body gave in but her hand resisted. The burn meant this caused undue pain. When she emitted a muted whimper, Prentice stopped.

Fiona would have held her breath if she had any.

Instead, she did the only thing she could do.

She hovered.

His voice was soft when he ordered, “Show me.”

Bella’s reply was immediate, “Step back.”

“Show me, baby.”

Her hand still a fist, she said in a tone that, though it was firm, fear threaded through it, “Prentice… step… back!”

His other hand circled her other wrist, he pulled both her fisted hands in front of them and his voice was an absolute, wretched ache when he demanded, “Show me.”

Fiona watched the tears hit Bella’s eyes and tremble at their edges.

“I don’t want you to see,” she whispered, her tone just as heartbreaking.

“Show me.”

“You’ll think –”

“Show me, Elle.”

“But –”

His hands at her wrists gave hers a gentle shake and he whispered, “Show me, baby.”

She closed her eyes and Fiona saw the tears drop silently down her cheeks.

Then she opened them and her fists and Fiona saw she held her breath.

Prentice stared at her hands.

Then his jaw got tight and he closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he ran his thumbs gently along the white marks and muttered tenderly, “Baby.”

Bella’s head dropped forward in a sad expression of humiliation and defeat.

Prentice’s mouth went to her ear.

“You didn’t have these before,” he whispered but she didn’t reply. “Elle, answer me. You didn’t have these twenty years ago. Please, tell me I didn’t fucking miss this.”

“I didn’t have them,” she replied to the sink. “I started to…” she stopped. “Later. After you,” she drew in a breath and whispered, “it started when I lost you.”

Fiona didn’t know if that was what he wanted to hear or not and she couldn’t tell because he shoved his face in her neck and, taking her hands with his still at her wrists, he wrapped his arms tightly around her middle.

Bella’s head came up and Fiona could see she was still crying.

“They’re mine,” Prentice said to her neck.

Bella’s body twitched and her face went blank.

“What?” she breathed.

His mouth went back to her ear and his voice was tortured when he said, “They’re mine. My responsibility.”

Fiona felt a heavy weight hit her ghostly chest.

Bella felt the same. Fiona could see it with a look.

“What do you mean?” Bella whispered.

“You’d no’ have these marks, you’d no’ carry this pain if I’d no’ walked out of that fucking room.”

“Prentice, you can’t –”

She stopped speaking when he shook her with his hands at her wrists.

“You’d no’,” he growled fiercely.

“Pren,” she whispered softly.

“No.”

“I can’t have you thinking –”

“No.”

“Pren, please.”

“No. There would be no dreams, I’d have seen to that. Your father would no’ be in our lives. And you’d have had your fucking family, I would see to that too. I don’t give a fuck if we adopted or I had to buy you a family. I would have done it, whatever you wanted, to make you happy. Whatever you wanted, Elle. Anything. I’d have done whatever it took in order to give it to you. That’s how much I loved you.”

“Stop talking.”

“But I didn’t, I walked out of that room.”

“Prentice, stop talking.”

“I turned around and walked away. I didn’t even fucking call you.”

“Don’t do this to yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”

“No?”

“I’m weak,” she whispered.

Prentice was silent a moment before he laughed. It was an ugly noise and it hurt Fiona’s ghostly ears.

Bella felt the same.

Her pale face went ashen and, with a visible effort, she pulled free of his hands, turned off the tap, twisted in his arms and put her hands on his chest.

“It’s true, Prentice, I’m weak. I always have been,” she admitted this like it was a dirty little secret.

“He beat you to keep you from me,” Prentice countered. “What’s my excuse?”

Her head jerked and she asked, “Pardon?”

“You’re father hit you to control you. Your behavior wasn’t weak, it was survival. I had a good life, I’d never experienced that, no one ever treated me that way. What excuse do I have that I didn’t go after you? Wounded ego?”

Bella lifted her hands to either side of his neck and held on tight.

“Stop doing this. There’s no purpose.”

“No purpose?” he clipped. “If you stay, in a week, a month, ten years, it will eventually sink in that I left you to that. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t believe in you. What do I do when the bitterness creeps in, Elle, and you can’t bear to be with me anymore? What do I do?”

Her fingers curled into his neck but he didn’t give her the opportunity to reply.

“You needed me to protect you and I didn’t. I left you to that,” he continued, his hands came to hers at his neck and he pulled them away, his thumbs sliding along her palms, he went on, “And it was so bad, you harmed yourself because of it.”

She winced but recovered quickly and assured him, “I survived.”

He gave a short, unamused laugh. “Aye. You survived. But life isn’t survival, Elle, life is beautiful.”

She shook her head and said softly, “Not for everyone. Not for a lot of people, Pren, just for those fortunate few.”

Fiona watched as Prentice’s mouth got tight at her words but he replied, “True enough. But you deserve a beautiful life and I would have given it to you if I hadn’t given up, believed you’d played me, stopped believing in you, stopped believing in us.”

Fiona saw Bella was no longer listening.

Her eyes had grown unfocused.

Prentice saw it too.

He was losing her.

Do something! Fiona shouted.

“Elle,” he called but she didn’t reply. His hands curled into hers and gave them a gentle jerk as he repeated, “Elle.”

She shook her head as if clearing it and her eyes refocused.

“You said in ten years –” Bella whispered.

“Aye,” Prentice interrupted, his tone harsh. “Ten years, twenty years, fifty years. Who gives a fuck if, in the end, it might mean I lose you again.”

“Fifty years?” she breathed.

Fiona knew with a look that Prentice wanted to stick with the matter at hand and was losing patience at her shift. “Elle, we –”

Bella interrupted him, asking incredulously, “You want me here for fifty years?”

Now Fiona knew that Prentice was getting annoyed. “Aye, we established that last night.”

“Why?” Bella asked suddenly, her voice somehow both breathy and sharp.

Prentice’s brows drew together. “Why what?”

“Why do you want me here?”

“Elle…” Yes, definitely impatient, Fiona knew this because he released her but leaned into her, resting a hand on the edge of the sink, he tore the other through his hair.

“Tell me.” Her voice was getting sharper, colder. “Tell me why you want me here. I want to know.”

“Elle –”

“Why?” Bella’s voice was a lash and her body had grown solid.

Prentice stared at her, his impatience vanishing, understanding dawning.

Fiona knew they were in trouble.

Prentice was not a man prone to flowery words. In fact, the words she’d heard him say about her the night before on the balcony (they still made her ghostly belly melt) were the most flowery she’d ever had from him.

No, Prentice was more a man who spoke through actions.

This wasn’t a time for action; it was a time for words and Fiona doubted that Prentice could give Bella what she obviously needed.

Fiona was wrong.

His face gentled, his hand came to rest on her jaw and he answered her question in that soft voice filled with love.

“Your pancakes, your cookies, your smile.”

Uh-oh.

Even said in his beautiful, soft voice, Fiona didn’t think that was a great start.

Bella, staring up at him with fear and doubt barely masked behind the coldness in her eyes, didn’t either.

Prentice wasn’t done.

“The way you care for my home, the way you care for my family.”

Fiona decided this wasn’t going too well. No woman wanted a man to want her because she was a good housekeeper and babysitter and made good pancakes.

“The way you are with Sally, enjoying every second of her, never making her feel silly or getting impatient with her liveliness.”

All right, that was a wee bit better. Fiona watched Bella’s face shift slightly, still guarded but Prentice had struck a chord.

“The way you are with Jason, how you handle him with such care. Showing him that Fiona’s guitar, something she loved, wasn’t an instrument of mourning, which she’d hate, but an instrument to celebrate her and keep her memory alive.”

Bella started to shake her head but his hand at her jaw tightened.

“The way you make me laugh when you forget to be what your father wanted you to be and you’re just you.”

Her head jerked.

“Prentice –” Bella broke in.

Prentice wasn’t done.

His face dipped closer to hers. “The way you respond to me, no inhibitions, so quick, so wild, my kiss, my touch, my tongue,” his voice dropped deep, “my cock. I love kissing you, baby, touching you, fucking you. And I love knowing you love it too.”

Fiona could have done without hearing that but she saw he was getting to Bella because her eyes had grown glazed.

“Pren,” she whispered.

“The way you give of yourself, every second, to everyone without knowing you’re doing it or expecting that first thing in return. You’re the most generous person I’ve ever met in my life.” He got even closer, his arm sliding around her waist, his hand at her jaw gliding into her hair. “And I want you in my life until I’m no longer breathing.”

Bella was struggling with this, Fiona could see it. She wanted to believe but she couldn’t.

Or she wouldn’t.

“I –” Bella started to protest.

Prentice cut her off. “And I want you in my children’s lives.”

Bella bit her lip which had begun to tremble.

Then she said something bizarre.

“I think you’re confused.”

Prentice’s brows drew together, indicating to Fiona he thought what she said was bizarre as well.

“Confused how?”

“With who I am and who you think I am.”

“What?”

His voice was no longer soft and loving. Prentice wasn’t happy he’d laid it out for her and, apparently, it had no effect.

Fiona didn’t think this was a good sign.

“You think I’m that girl you met twenty years ago,” Bella explained. “I’m not that girl. I never was. And you’re confused.”

“So, who are you?” Prentice asked, his voice now edging towards impatience.

Bella heard it and decided not to respond.

Fiona watched as his hand fisted in her hair. “You’re telling me that all this is a game?”

Bella’s body jerked yet again and her face went pale.

“A game?” she whispered.

“Aye, a game,” Prentice clipped. “You’re saying you dropped everything in order to come to Sally… that was a game.”

“No!” Bella replied sharply.

“The laundry, the ironing, making the beds, hoovering the floors, baking the cookies, that wasn’t you? That was what your father said you were doing? That was you playing house?”

It was a low blow and Bella flinched like she’d been physically struck.

Fiona wished she could kick Prentice.

Where was he going with this?

“Of course not,” Bella whispered.

Prentice was relentless. “It wasn’t you that played darts with Annie, Dougal and me? It wasn’t you who asked Gordon over for hamburgers?”

Bella shook her head.

Prentice kept after her.

“It isn’t you who’s teaching Jace how to play guitar? It isn’t you who stares into my eyes like you do, like you’re lost in what you see and you don’t want to be found. And it isn’t you who wraps your hand around my cock like you never want to let it go and moans in my mouth when my tongue slides into yours?”

Okay, Fiona thought, overshare.

Bella’s face was confused and her reply was hesitant, “Yes, um… well, that all is me but –”

“So, tell me, Elle, if that’s all you then how the fuck am I confused?”

Bella didn’t have an answer for that, evidently, because she didn’t speak.

She just stared at him.

He let her go but didn’t move away. His hands slid down her forearms and caught her wrists. Bringing them up between them, his thumbs slid into her fists, pushing back her fingers. Then he stroked her palms.

Bella closed her eyes.

Prentice spoke and his tone was now gentle. “I’m not confused, baby, you are.”

Bella opened her eyes.

“I’m not that girl you knew,” she whispered.

God, Fiona thought, Bella’s stubborn.

“You are,” Prentice, Fiona knew, could be stubborn too.

“I’m not.”

“Baby, you are, then and now. But, now, with time and maturity, you’re even better.”

Her eyes filled with tears and Fiona worried her lip. She watched as Bella curled open her fingers and lifted her hands, showing him her palms.

“This is me, Prentice,” she said, her voice harsh. “This is who I am. This is who you’d have in your house. This is who I’ve always been, weak, trapped, useless. I saved you when I left you years ago. Don’t you understand? That girl didn’t exist, you made her. She was only alive for you. This,” she jerked her hands still in his wrists, “is who I am.”

“You can’t believe that.”

“I know it.”

They stared at each other.

Fiona hovered anxiously.

Then Prentice broke through.

His eyes went soft and he lifted one of her hands to his mouth. Touching her palm to his lips, Bella (and Fiona) watched him kiss the scars tenderly. He repeated this gesture with her other hand.

Then he dropped it and placed it against his stomach, holding her hand flat over it with his.

“Then it’s good you’re with me so she can be alive again because I’m in love with her. I always have been,” he whispered. “And it’s good you’re with me so I can feel alive again.” He pressed her hand into his gut and his face moved closer. “Nothing,” he stated, “I felt nothing here.” He pressed her hand into his gut again. “Nothing, since Fiona died. And I didn’t think I could feel again after I lost Fee. Now it feels warm. Even when you first returned, you made it that way, when I saw you smile, when you made the children laugh, anytime I caught sight of your sweet, sexy ass –”

Bella wasn’t ready to give in, the daft cow (now Fiona wanted to kick her), “Prentice, stop –”

Prentice, fortunately, wasn’t ready to give in either.

“Life, for me, luckily has been a beautiful journey. It put me in this village, it brought me Fee who walked at my side and then Jason and Sally who continue to share that journey with me.” His voice dipped low and his hand took hers from his belly to press it against his heart when he finished, “But, baby, through that long journey, I’ve only ever been home twice. Once, twenty years ago and now I’m home again, with you. You. I know exactly who you are. I just have to introduce you to her.”

Bella was staring at him, lips parted.

Prentice held her gaze.

Fiona hovered.

The tears welled up in Bella’s eyes and slid silently down her cheeks.

Prentice tensed as he watched them fall.

Then Bella spoke so softly, Fiona (even with super-ghostly senses) could barely hear her.

Even so, it hurt to listen to the hesitant but hopeful ache in her words.

“You’re saying… I can be free?”

Prentice closed his eyes slowly but briefly.

Then he put both his hands on her jaw and tipped her face up to his, getting close, his body against hers. “Baby, with me, you can be whatever the fuck you want to be. But most especially, you can be free.”

“I want to be free,” she whispered and you could tell she wanted that, you could tell she’d wanted that forever.

“Then I’ll help you to be free,” Prentice whispered back.

She closed her eyes and fresh tears slid down her cheeks.

“You always did,” she replied.

Prentice made a low noise, like a groan and bent his forehead to hers.

Fiona didn’t close her eyes but she felt her own ghostly tears falling.

Bella opened her eyes and Fiona waited.

Prentice broke the silence. “I can’t promise you heaven, but I’ll no’ let anything harm you.” He paused and smiled. “And Jason will no’.”

“Jason likes me,” she whispered, as if this was an impossibility.

“No, baby, Jason and Sally don’t like you. They both fell in love the first time they laid eyes you.” He touched his lips to hers and finished, “Just like their Dad.”

More tears slid down her cheeks.

These were a different kind.

And when they did, Fiona knew immediately that Isabella Austin Evangahlala was gone for good.

Prentice’s “Elle” had finally awoken and come back to life.

Therefore, Fiona smiled.

Bella threw her arms around his neck, shoving her face there, holding him tight.

Prentice’s arms slid around her waist, bending and twisting his head so his lips were resting on her hair nearly at her nape, holding her back.

“Can I tell you something?” she whispered her question into his ear.

“Aye, Elle, anything,” he replied.

She sucked in a breath and then whispered, “There will be no bitterness. Ever. It took you a long time but it had to so you could give me everything I’ve ever wanted. And, Prentice, the only things in my whole, entire life I ever wanted were you…” She pulled back, he lifted his head, she pushed a finger in his chest and then pointed upstairs. “And them. Even though I didn’t know it would be them, in the end it is.”

His voice had grown hoarse with emotion when he started, “Elle –”

Her hands went to the sides of his head, her fingers gliding in his hair and she cut him off by saying, “If you want me then I’m here. And I hope we have fifty years but if we don’t, if we have five weeks or five days, I’ll never be bitter.” She came up on her toes and put her mouth to his, finishing on a whisper, “I’ll only be happy because finally, finally, finally I have everything I’ve ever wanted and you must know that it was you who gave it to me.”

Prentice stared into her tear-stained face but he hesitated only for a moment before he slanted his handsome head and kissed her.

Fiona popped back to the stream.

She stared at her tent.

Then she giggled.

It took Prentice a day.

It took him a day to breathe life into Bella.

He was a genius!

Then again, Bella had been fiercely in love with him for twenty years so, really, it wasn’t that much of a challenge.

Still.

Fiona wandered into the tent, picked up the guitar, sat on the chair, threw her legs over the arm and she played.