The Life and Second Life of Charlie Brackwood (The Brackwood Series Book 2) (21 page)

“
Wuthering Heights
,” I explained. It was the story she would retreat to whenever things became overwhelming. I knew she wouldn’t have left without taking the book with her. She shook her head in exasperation.

“Cryptic yet again. Why are you here? You’re the last person I want to see.”

“Come on, Lucy,” I said, immediately regretting the harshness of my tone, “we both know you wanted someone to find you or you would’ve locked the door.”

She looked at me for the first time and I saw the full extent of the damage I’d done.

“How can you know so much about me when I know nothing about you?”

“I’m trying to let you in, Luce, but there are certain things I can’t reveal.”

“Of course not,” she said bitterly. “Because we don’t talk about you, do we? I hardly know anything about you.”

“What would you like to know?”

“Who was the woman you were having dinner with?”

“A friend of someone important to me.”

“What friend?”

“You don’t need to know.”

She turned away from me in frustration, eyes raised to the clear sky. When she turned back to face me, fresh tears glistened.

“Why is that not important?”

I paused. I hated myself for lying to her. It felt unnatural, like I was breaking an unspoken promise.

“Because this friend happens to be someone I’ve never met. He gave me a gift and I owe him a favour in return.”

“And having dinner with his ‘friend’ was a way of returning that favour?”

“Yes… sort of. There’s more to it than that.”

“So tell me.”

“I can’t, Lucy. But, please, you have to believe that there’s nothing going on. I have no feelings for Emma whatsoever.”

“Emma?” Lucy’s expression changed from one of anger to confusion.

“Lucy, please. Don’t you trust me?”

“I thought I did... but there are so many things you’re hiding from me. You went to prison, for pity's sake, and I still don’t know why.” She raised her voice as she glared at me. “You come across as attentive and kind, like you really care. Seeing you with her… after… it hurts. I thought I’d finally found someone, but now I’m questioning your motives.”

“I have no motives.”

She paused, presumably determining whether I was telling her the truth. She was lost in her own thoughts for so long that I began to wonder whether she would speak again.

“You remind me so much of Charlie.” She looked confused and there was an undertone of sorrow in her voice. “I know I’ve said it before, but you are like him in so many ways that often it scares me. Sometimes it’s almost like he never left.”

She swept her hair off her face and closed her eyes; she looked so vulnerable. I wracked my brains for a suitable reply but failed to produce one that wouldn’t reveal my true identity. And if I did confess the truth, the chances of her believing me were slim. Even someone as open-minded as she was would find it hard to belief that the spirit of her dead fiancé was now living in the body of a stranger. I watched as tears streamed from her tightly closed eyes, knowing that I was responsible.

“I don’t know what to think anymore,” she whispered.

I reached across the table and grasped her forearms tightly. Her eyes remained firmly closed but she didn’t pull away.

“Luce, please. I hate to see you like this. Tell me what to do to make things right. Please, I’ll do anything.”

“Why do you care?” She opened her eyes and stared angrily into mine. “Aren’t I just a game to you? Something to pass the time?”

“Lucy…”

“Leading me on so you can leave me flat. Isn’t that what you were saying in the barn earlier? ‘How am I ever going to be able to leave you, Lucy?’ Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. Whatever this is between us is a lie. I’m entertainment for you, someone to satisfy you until you find someone new.” She was shouting now. “I’m right, aren’t I? I’m a plaything to you, a toy. Go on, admit it. Be a man and admit it.”

“Lucy, I…” Sighing, I closed my eyes momentarily in an attempt to conjure up some courage. “There’s no easy way to say this and you can tell me to go to hell if you want. God knows I’ve spent the best part of five years there… ”

“Spit it out,” she said harshly.

“I love you deeply. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

“How can you? You hardly know me.”

“I know you better than most... I know you escape from reality with a book. I know that the only thing that eases your anxiety is a walk among those hills.” I pointed to the view beyond. She turned her head to see where I was pointing, “I know that, out of all the countries you have visited, that view is the only thing that comforts you and makes you feel safe. I know that you can’t sleep on plump pillows, that makeup makes you nervous and that you can’t go to bed without drinking a mug of thistle tea because someone once told you it was good for the digestion. I know you had a brief problem with drugs and alcohol in your last year of university that landed you in hospital for a short time, and I know that it’s one of your biggest regrets. I know everything about you.”

Lucy’s mouth gaped slightly and her eyes grew wide as she studied my face.

“Who are you?” she asked while attempting to move as far away from me as possible in her chair.

“You already know who I am.”

“You’ve researched me, you must’ve done.”

“I don’t need to research you, Lucy. I know you better than anyone does. You know who I am,” I said again.

“You’re Adam,” she said, shaking her head.

“Guess again,” I said softly. She looked at me, perplexed. “Our first morning in the treehouse, what breakfast did I make you? The waterfall I took you to, the secret place I used to fish with my father, my extensive knowledge of sheep bloat, the way I drive the Aston Martin… come on, Lucy, you already know who I am.”

“You can’t be.” She shook her head before staring at me again. “You can’t.”

I nodded while holding her eyes in an intense gaze.

“It’s not possible. You’re trying to fool me, manipulate me into forgiving you.”

“What would I gain from that?”

“I don’t know.”

Her eyes didn’t leave my face. In one swift movement she rose from her chair, pushing it back so hard that it hit the metal railing of the balcony with a sharp clang.

“Where are you going?” I said, rising with her.

“Inside. I need to think about this.”

“I’ll come with you,” I said as I began to follow her.

“No.” She whipped round to face me. “I need to be alone… I need to think.”

“Can I wait here for you?”

She nodded quickly before entering the lounge, Snoop following her faithfully. As I watched her go I started to re-evaluate what I’d just revealed. I told myself that she had guessed my secret, that technically I didn’t tell her anything I shouldn’t have. But I still felt unsettled by the fact that I had taken advantage of the kind gift I’d been given. In that moment I expected to be plucked from this world by God’s own hand and transported back to the world of the dead where I belonged. However, I knew that given the chance again I wouldn’t hesitate to repeat my actions. I had to reveal myself to Lucy, I had to let her know I was still with her, that I was watching her life play out from a different world. Beneath the conflicting emotions I felt there was no regret.

Through the glass door I could see Lucy as she paced up and down. Her head was bowed, making it hard for me to see her expression. I felt almost like a naughty schoolboy waiting in his teacher’s office while they came up with a suitable punishment. I was so afraid that Lucy would disappear I kept my eyes fixed on her. After a while the pacing stopped and she disappeared into her reading room. Fearing for her mental state, I got up to follow her.

I saw her staring at the groups of photos scattered around the minimally furnished room. As I approached I saw that she was clutching the Steiff
bear I had picked up off the floor days earlier. She turned her head slightly as she heard my approach but looked at my feet, not wishing to engage in eye contact. I stopped a couple of feet away. Silence surrounded us. She picked up a silver-framed photograph and held it in both hands as if cradling a fragile object. As I peered over her shoulder I realised that it was a picture of us taken at a Hallowe’en party. She was wearing a long black wig and a figure- hugging, floor-length dress. She smiled beneath her thick, ghostly-pale makeup while I, dressed in a suit and a false moustache, kissed her outstretched hand, hamming it up for the camera.

“Gomez and Morticia Addams,” I said over her shoulder. “If I remember rightly I had to carry you upstairs later that night, you were in such a state.”

She glanced at me briefly.

“What else do you remember about that night?”

“It was the first time you drank alcohol since your therapy ended.”

“What else?”

“The party was held here, at our house. Almost the entire village turned up.”

She waited expectantly.

“Russ had been spiking your drink all night and that was the reason you were in such a state. After you passed out in our bedroom I went to talk to him. He accused me of being too over-protective and… well, I pushed him and he lunged at me. Things got a bit heated and we ended up in a fight.”

I studied Lucy’s expression but it was hard to read; her gaze was still averted as she stared at the picture.

“And nobody gave you this information?”

“No,” I replied truthfully.

Lucy grew quiet once more as she looked at the teddy in her hand. She held it up for my inspection.

“Tell me about this bear.”

In some twisted way I was glad she was testing me; it meant that somewhere in her subconscious she was considering the idea that I was who I claimed to be.

“I bought it for you during a weekend trip to Berlin. I had been so busy with the business I had neglected you. The trip was a surprise, a way for us to reconnect. We travelled there in December to see the Christmas lights. It snowed and we made snow angels.” I moved towards her slowly. “I teased you about your red cheeks, brought on by the cold. But while I teased you, I was actually thinking about how radiant you looked in your funny hat.” I cupped her cheek. “So alive.” I rubbed my thumb over its curve. “That was the last December we spent together.”

Lucy still looked dissatisfied. She pointed to a scar on her shoulder. “How did I get this?”

I leaned in and traced my finger over the pale, jagged line that lay parallel to her collarbone.

“It was summer,” I said, careful to describe the day precisely, “the day before school started. Russ and I were keen skateboarders back then, although our skills were somewhat lacking. We found a dirt track on a hill and built a ramp at the bottom. You insisted on going first               – maybe you felt left out or had something to prove, I’ll never know. I just remember the look on your face as you hit the ground on the other side of the ramp. You fell awkwardly and your shoulder collided with a large rock. The wound bled and soaked your T-shirt. You needed four stitches and that scar is the proof.”

Her eyes stared at me vacantly, as if she was seeing something else, a different scene entirely.

“I’m so confused,” she whispered.

“Trust me,” I whispered back. “Please, Luce, it’s me... I don’t know what else to do to convince you. I’ve waited five long years to see you, talk to you, to…”

My words were silenced by the touch of her lips pressed hungrily against mine. I wrapped one arm tight around her waist and clamped my hand against the back of her head, twining my fingers in the softness of her hair. She pulled away from my mouth and started to kiss my neck, soft tender kisses that caused a prickling sensation on my skin. I closed my eyes as she whispered my name. My real name. Not Adam but
Charlie.

“I’ve waited so long for you to say that.”

“Is it really you?” she whispered against my skin. “Have you returned to me?”

“Of course,” I said gently, “I was always here.”

“Protecting me.” It was more of a statement than a question.

I nodded and kissed her again, softly this time and without as much urgency. We clung to each other as though we could be pulled apart at any moment and I savoured the euphoria that swam through my veins. She brushed back my hair and looked deep into my eyes. I stared back, transfixed. Her eyes felt like home to me and I kissed each of her eyelids in turn. When she opened them again her eyes were soft with emotion; it was an expression I’d been eager to see and one I had sorely missed.

I pressed both hands against her lower back and as my hands travelled on she clamped her arms around my neck and I lifted her up. She wrapped her legs around me and we stumbled towards the sofa. I laid her down gently, pulling a pillow under her head. She grabbed my shirt with both hands and dragged me down on top of her. As she kissed me her hands explored the bare skin beneath my shirt and I suddenly felt it bunch up under my arms before she pulled it over my head. I felt the heat of her breath on my shoulder as she clung to my body. I slid my hands beneath her waist and held her close in an attempt to eliminate any space between us. She sighed heavily as my face nuzzled her neck.