Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (13 page)

 
Chapter 20

 
Trust

Tastes like: Warm apple-pie

Smells like: Your Dad’s
aftershave

Sounds like: A baby’s laugh

Feels like: Holding hands

Looks like: A child,
leaping into the arms of his father

We’ve taken two steps forward and three steps back. Kael
has barely spoken to me since he walked out on Monday and it’s Friday already.
This is much worse than before though. Maybe it’s because I know the Kael that hides
beneath the hard exterior a little better; I’ve chatted with him, shared
stories and laughed with him. His latest banishment feels like a personal
affront to me.
 

I still don’t know what I’ve done to make the muscle in
his jaw tighten and flex again but it
hurts
that he doesn’t trust me - because that’s what it is – a lack of trust.
Kael doesn’t trust me with his true self.

‘How’s your head and your arm?’ he asks. It’s the one
question he asks every morning now, even though he won’t look at me when he speaks.
What do you care
, I want to shout
back at him, but instead, I give him the same answer I have given every other
day this week.

‘Fine.’

My voice is resigned, it sounds the way I feel and it’s
no co-incidence that it’s one syllable. My wrist is actually much better –
probably better than it should be after only a few days. I’ve stopped wearing
the sling, but I’m still wrapping the wrist.

I turn back to the window, preparing to complete the
rest of the journey in silence as we’ve done the past week, but Kael surprises
me.

‘I’ll pick you up at ten tomorrow,’ he says.

‘Oh, are we going somewhere?’

‘Yes, on a date.’

‘Excuse me?’ I turn to stare at him.

‘Tristan is taking you to Lydney gardens for a picnic.’

‘Oh,’ I say, feeling inexplicably disappointed. ‘But why
isn’t
he
fetching me?’ I ask, trying
to quash my inappropriate reaction.

‘You’re not driving with him.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I said so.’

‘Oh for heaven’s sake,’ I argue, crossing my arms over
my chest in an x and glaring at him. ‘There have got to be full sentences
somewhere in that vocab.’

Kael gives me a funny look and I want to shake him.

‘Why can’t I drive with Tristan?’

‘Because I don’t trust him.’

‘What do you mean you don’t trust him? What did he do?’

‘He hasn’t done anything. I just don’t know him yet, so
I don’t trust him.’

‘You don’t know him? I ask. ‘But didn’t you grow up
together?’

 
‘No.’ he says,
‘Tristan only arrived a couple days before you. I’ve barely said two words to
the guy.’

‘Oh.’ I nibble on the end of my thumbnail, peeking from
the edge of the bandage. For some reason, I’d just assumed Tristan was part of
the Forest of Dean Glen. It’s a little unsettling to think that nobody knows
him, yet they’re expecting me to marry a stranger. ‘Then, where’s he from?’

‘Why don’t you ask him?’

‘Oh, come on!’ I say, ‘I’m not asking for your pin
number.’

The corner of Kael’s mouth twitches.

‘Dalby forest, his parents own an estate there.’

‘So, he came down here…for me?’

Kael nods, eyes still on the road.

‘Tanya sent for him as soon as we knew you were coming.’

I stop chewing my nail and twirl my ponytail into a
tight coil around my other hand.

‘Why him?’

Kael shoots me a puzzled look.

‘Because he’s your fiancé.’

‘No,’ I interrupt, ‘I mean, why was Tristan chosen for
me?’

Kael sighs. ‘You’ll have to ask your grandmother.’

‘But -’

‘Listen, Shaylee,’ he says, with a hint of annoyance. ‘There
are just some things Tanya should explain to you and anything to do with
Tristan falls into that category,
capish
?’

Kael tightens his grip on the steering wheel and looks
resolutely at the road ahead. It’s a dismissal, but I’m not ready to be
dismissed. He’s woken up my tiger with all this secrecy and one-word responses.

‘So are you going to come on all my dates then?’ I ask, with
a touch of insolence.

Kael’s jaw works again and this time, I hear his teeth
grinding together.

‘For now,’ he says.

‘And what if he wants to kiss me?’ I know I’m pushing
dangerously close to the edge when his knuckles turn white on the steering
wheel and he grinds his teeth together again. I should shut up, but it’s just
too difficult to control what comes out of my mouth when I’m feeling this way.
‘Are you going to stand and watch?’

The minute the words are out of my mouth I feel blazing
heat race into my cheeks. Kael whips his head around and glares at me. I try to
appear brazen, but inside, I’m wishing I’d bitten my tongue off a minute
earlier. Why the hell did I say that? I have absolutely no intention of kissing
anyone in the near future. What possessed me to say such a stupid thing?

It’s me who turns away first, to stare, unseeing out of
the window. I wish I could erase the picture my own words have formed in my
mind and I wish I could understand why, even when I speak of kissing Tristan,
it isn’t his lips I’m thinking of.
 
 

True to his word, Kael collects me at ten am Saturday
morning. There are telltale shadows beneath his eyes that match my own. I saw
his light burning at two this morning when I roused myself from the window seat
to crawl onto my mattress and I can’t help but wonder if I was the reason for
his restlessness.

Kael doesn’t say much on the ride to Lydney Gardens, apart
from a comment about my wrist, which is not in a sling today. Besides a little stiffness;
it feels almost back to normal. His silence is just as well, because between
thoughts of yesterday’s botched conversation and today’s impending date, my
mind is a tangled mess.

‘Shaylee, are you alright?’ Kael asks, leaning across
the centre console of the truck to release my safety belt. He peers at me,
looking a little concerned and curious at the same time. I get the feeling he’s
asked me something.

‘Huh?’ I say, and close my eyes in a cringe. God, I
sound like such an idiot.

‘I said we’re here. Are you feeling alright?’

‘Yes,’ I say hastily, ‘I guess I’m just a little
nervous.’

He gives a curt nod, climbs out the truck and comes
around to open the passenger door for me. When we walk into the gardens, we’re
greeted by a riot of fragrance and colour. The air is perfumed with magnolia,
lily and lavender, and the landscaped gardens are ablaze with shades of red and
white roses, pale pink cherry trees, olive and lime green ferns, and purple violets
that remind me of the precious little bedside plant I had to leave behind.

I follow Kael past a couple lying, legs intertwined on a
faded beige picnic blanket, around a whispering fountain and through a group of
young boys, tossing a soccer-ball between them. I am so enthralled by my
surroundings that I nearly walk straight into Kael when he stops at a blue-and-white-checkered
blanket spread out close to the edge of a pond. Two sugar-encrusted champagne
flutes lie beside a bowl of strawberries on the blanket, next to Tristan, who
smiles, stands in one fluid movement and holds his hand out to me. He is like a
golden college fraternity boy, in his tight stone-washed jeans and casual
button-down shirt.

I give him my hand and he raises it to his lips, his
eyes riveted to my face. When his lips touch my hand, I draw in a quick breath
at the tingle of warmth that travels up my arm, toward my heart. Part of me
wants to snatch my hand away but somewhere, in the pit of my stomach, I feel a
need to step closer, to feel the brush of those lips on my cheek…on my mouth. It’s
confusing. The corner of Tristan’s lips curl upwards, as though he can read my
thoughts and I flush and look away.
 
 

‘Come, sit,’ he says.

I turn toward Kael, embarrassed that he’s witnessed my reaction
to Tristan’s kiss, but he is no longer at my side.

‘Your
seastnan
will be near,’ Tristan says, ‘but you won’t need him today. I promise, you’re
safe with me.’
 
 
 
  

My eyes search the surroundings, but Kael is nowhere in
sight. He must be somewhere close though, because I can feel my wrist humming.
It’s a stronger hum than usual and I assume it has something to do with the
proximity of both Kael and Tristan. I sink to the soft blanket, careful not to
bump my arm, fold my legs beneath me and tell myself Tristan is right; I’m safe
with him, but inside I don’t feel as secure as when I’m with Kael.

‘I hope you like strawberries?’

Tristan takes a large strawberry from the bowl, dips it
into another bowl of cream and holds it out to me.

I look away, toward the family of ducks swimming on the
far end of the pond. The thought of his fingers touching my lips sends a
confusing thrill down my spine. How can this stranger have such a profound
effect on me? Why does his touch feel so wrong and yet so right at the same
time? Out of the corner of my eye, I see him shrug and pop the strawberry into
his own mouth.

He chews for a moment, scoots closer on the blanket and
takes my uninjured hand in his. I turn my gaze from the ducks to our linked hands
and my singing wrist.

‘I’m sorry if I make you uncomfortable,’ he says.

‘It’s not that…’ I say, distracted by the way his thumb
is making lazy circles on the inside of my wrist.
 
I put my bandaged hand lightly over his and
force myself to meet his eyes. ‘It’s just that – this bond – I don’t quite
understand it.’

‘What’s to understand?’ he says, smiling, but his eyes
have gone a molten green-flecked hazel. I pull my hand from his and he blinks, and
then sighs.

‘The bond is not something that needs to be understood.
It’s something to be experienced with the body and with the heart. Don’t you
feel it,
mo cheannsa
?’

‘Yes,’ I say hesitantly, ‘but there has to be more,
Tristan. Marriage has to be built on something more than physical attraction.’

Tristan is silent for a moment and I find myself
fidgeting with my ponytail again.

‘What is it that you’re looking for, Shaylee?’ he says
after a while. His eyes search mine and he frowns.

‘Love? Is that what you’re looking for?’ I blush and
drop my eyes to my lap. Tristan shifts until he is sitting cross-legged in
front of me and he tips my chin up with his hand.

‘There are many types of love,
mo cheannsa
, one can lead to another.’

‘But what happens when it fades?’ I ask.

‘It won’t.’

‘Physical attraction
does
fade, Tristan,’ I argue. ‘What happens when all we have in common are the
scars on our wrists?’

He looks at me and shakes his head, but I grab his hand
in mine and look him straight in the eye.

‘I want more. I want to know that when I’m old and grey,
my husband will still look at me and think ‘this is the woman I love and I want
to spend every moment left on earth with her’. I want to know that we can still
hold a conversation in forty years time that doesn’t revolve around other
people’s lives. I want to know that when I walk down the aisle, it’s because I
want to, not because of some physical attraction that is a result of a ritual
our parents forced on us.’

Tristan is silent, but something flickers in his eyes
when I say the last words.

‘Forced on us?’ he says. ‘Is that how you feel?’

When he speaks, I realize it was hurt I saw in his hazel
eyes and I am filled with guilt.

‘Yes,’ I say reluctantly. I don’t want to hurt him more,
but he needs to understand how I really feel. ‘I never wanted this. I’m
seventeen, Tristan. I’m not ready to even think about marriage, let alone marry
somebody I don’t know a thing about, and when I do decide one day,
I
want to be the one to choose my
husband, not some group of old foggies who don’t know the first thing about me.
When I marry, it will be for love, not duty.’

‘So you’ll defy the
Tanistry
?
And your grandmother?’ Tristan asks.

I don’t tell him of my agreement with Nan, it doesn’t
make a difference because I
will
defy
her too if necessary.

‘Yes,’ I say.
 

Tristan stares at me and a range of emotions races
across his face. I imagine I see surprise, disappointment, admiration and
resolution before he finally speaks.