Down by the River Ch. 02

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Her best friend comes back.
14.9k words
4.8
16k
8

Part 2 of the 5 part series

Updated 09/22/2022
Created 01/12/2010
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When I was thirteen, Grandmother told me that there were two kinds of love: one that nurtures and one that consumes.

The first kind was the kind she shared with Grandfather. Through thick and thin, they stuck together, forever each other's half. When Grandfather died, Grandmother was left alone to take care of their seven-year-old daughter, my mother, but never did Grandmother look back to those days with bitterness. The only reason she gave me was that Grandfather's love gave her all the strength she needed to fight through life and raise their child.

"He might not have spent as many years with me as I had hoped, but your grandfather had always shown me so much love – enough love to last a lifetime, even if it meant living without him," Grandmother would always say.

The second kind – the one that consumes – was the kind that my mother felt for my father. Mother died a few days after she gave birth to me: heartbroken, alone. Grandmother told me that the only crime my mother has done was to fall in love with the wrong man, at the wrong time, in the wrong place. She loved deeply and with all her heart, leaving nothing for herself.

"Your father might have loved your mother," Grandmother said to me once, "or he might have not. We will never know for sure. But your mother loved him without restraint, giving him everything -- heart, body, mind and soul. He took all of her away when he left, never to come back."

I was too young at thirteen to understand everything that Grandmother was telling me. All I knew was that she was warning me against the all-consuming love that became my mother's downfall. Even without understanding all of it, I knew that Grandmother was right. I promised myself that I would not follow in my mother's footsteps. I would love a man, but I would always leave something for myself.

I thought I learned my lesson. I thought I would be able to stand by that conviction. But I was wrong. Nothing prepared me for what I was about to face.

Ah, yes. Fate could be cruel sometimes.

*****

Grandmother pushed a cup of tea towards me. "Drink it while it's hot."

I did not heave out the sigh threatening to escape my throat. I did not particularly like the taste of that tea. It was made from roots of plants that Grandmother said grew in the middle of the forest, where trees grew the thickest. Grandmother had been making me drink that every single day for almost two years now.

"Selene."

Her tone told me that she could read the hesitation in my eyes. Finally, I thought it was time to beg my way out of this.

"It does not taste good," I complained, pushing it away. "I don't like it, Grandmother."

She sighed and leaned on the chair. "Whether you like it or not, Selene Kier, you are going to drink that."

"You are never this insistent before," I said, frowning a little.

She smiled wistfully and took my hand, gently squeezing it. "This is the only thing that made sure you do not suffer the same fate as your mother's."

I tensed. Grandmother talked about Mother as rarely as she could. When I was younger, she would only talk of Mother because I was asking questions. In time, I realized just how painful it was for her to talk of her daughter; I stopped asking questions. She would only talk of Mother once in a while, and never about the disgrace she suffered.

My grandparents used to live very near Mary's place, which was about two-hour walk away from the place where we now lived. They had a little brick house back then, much like Mary's (although I would not consider Mary's house small now), and they were living well enough. Even after the death of my grandfather, Grandmother's life was fairly easy, since Mary's mother, who was still alive back then, would always help her. Mary and my mother were the best of friends, hence the closeness of our families. If only father had not entered the picture, perhaps I would not be living inside the forest with my Grandmother right now.

Father got my mother pregnant when she was twenty, promised to marry her, but never did. Instead, when mother was on her third month of pregnancy, he left, telling her that he would come back for her. My mother's condition was still concealable that time, but after two months, it was already apparent to everyone who saw her. She became the talk of everyone she knew, but Mother still held on to Father's promise.

A month before she was due, when the pain caused by the rumours spread about her had already become unbearable, Mother begged Grandmother to leave that place. She had always loved the forest nearby, and decided that she wanted to live there. Grandmother did as her daughter wished. Acting on Mary's mother's orders, Mary's father, brother, and husband (she was already married to George then) built a hut for Grandmother and Mother. It became Grandmother's home ever since.

It was in that hut that I was born. It was also in there that Mother died. Father never came back, as Grandmother feared. Not wanting me to grow up being the focus of everybody's scorn, Grandmother decided to raise me inside the forest. Sheltered and well-loved, I found this kind of life beautiful, magical, incomparable. That was the reason why I could not leave this forest even if it meant I had to part from the man I love, Marcus: I belonged to this forest as much as all the trees, shrubs, and rocks in the vicinity belonged to it.

"Do you understand me, Selene? I make this tea so that you won't get pregnant."

Grandmother's gentle voice brought me back to the present. I could not look at her. It just dawned on me that my behaviour last year could have very well reopened the wounds my Grandmother suffered from a long time ago. Marcus and I became lovers, and if Grandmother did not always coax me to drink her special tea, what happened to my mother could have happened to me, too.

Not that I thought Marcus would not have married me. He asked me to live with him, did he not? He would have done the honourable thing. Still, it would have reminded Grandmother of what happened to my mother.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

Grandmother rose from her seat to put her arms around me. "There now, Selene. There is nothing to be sorry about." I felt her lips on my head. "I was merely concerned about you. You remind me so much of my Catherine. Both of you are headstrong, passionate women, if a bit reckless."

I looked up at her and saw the tears in her eyes, although she was smiling. "Grandmother, Marcus is not like my father. He would have done the right thing had he gotten me with child."

She said nothing, just smiled and kissed my forehead. I knew what she had in mind: I could not be sure that Marcus would have acted differently from the way my father did. But I knew Marcus. I believed in him. I loved him. The kind of love we shared nurtured; it would not destroy. I knew, because he chose to leave me when he realized that I would never leave this place. His eyes led right into his soul, and when he realized that we could not be together, I saw sadness and pain there that mirrored my own. And so I knew: he would drag me out of the forest and into a church if he had gotten me pregnant. He would not be the coward that my father was.

I reached for the cup of tea and brought it to my lips. It did not matter now. Marcus was gone, and even though I did not have any lover at all, it would not hurt to reassure my grandmother. I would not be the fool that my mother was.

*****

It was a beautiful morning when I walked to Mary's house, carrying -- as usual -- a basket of fruits and vegetables that Grandmother and I picked just before sunrise. It would take me two hours to reach my destination, but it did not matter: being with Mary and her family was worth the long, hard walk from our hut in the forest.

I passed the dried old well where Mary's children and I used to play as kids. Once, I brought Marcus there, when I thought that we could talk to Lucas, Mary's eldest son and my best friend. That recollection put a sad smile on my face, for I remembered the heartbreak I felt when I found out that Lucas had gone to his Aunt Susanna's place.

As soon as I passed the well, I had to take a curve on the road that led to Mary's house. The front yard of the two-story brick house was clearly visible from there. I stopped in my tracks when I saw who was leaning against the balustrade of the front porch.

Lucas.

Drinking from a cup, his eyes trained on the path that led to the village, he did not notice me. He was half-naked from the waist up. I could tell that he had just finished taking a bath, for his dark hair was still wet, unruly. The sight made me smile. He never wanted to comb his hair while it was still wet. And why ever would he, anyway? He looked so handsome when his hair was looking as unruly as that.

It had been over a year since I last saw him. I could tell that he had changed – physically, at least. He already had a beautiful physic when he left, but it seemed that the time he spent with his aunt and uncle made it even more beautiful. His muscles looked bigger, harder. His complexion had also deepened slightly, and it suited him.

God. How I missed this man!

However, I did not forget the last time we spoke. Lucas and I had an argument in our vegetable garden, and he was angry and hurt when he left. It was my fault, I knew, so I went to their house to talk to him the next day, only to find out that he was already gone.

As I approached the house, I could not help but feel nervous. Would he still be mad at me? He was so cold to me when he left, and he even indicated in one of his letters to his family that he did not want to know about anything that concerned me. Was it possible that he had not yet forgiven me? Could he forgive me now?

I was already in the front yard when Lucas turned. There was a slight hint of surprise in his eyes when he saw me, but aside from that, I could not tell what he was feeling. I could not guess what he was thinking. We stood looking at each other for a while before Jim came out to the porch and noticed me.

"Finally!" Jim said, grinning as he jumped over the balustrade and walked towards me. "I have been itching to see you again, fair lady!"

I tore my gaze off Lucas to regard his younger brother. I smiled at him. "Hello, James."

Jim winked and took the basket from me, saying, "My god. How I missed you, Selene."

I was just about to ask him what kind of game he was playing when he stepped closer to me, lifted my chin, and kissed me full in the mouth. Shocked, I could only stare at Jim with wide eyes when he finally pulled away. He did not look ashamed at all. In fact, he was grinning.

My eyes fell immediately on Lucas, who was still standing on the porch. His slightly narrowed eyes were sending daggers at me. A distasteful feeling settled on the pit of my stomach as pain stabbed through my heart. Surprised by my reaction to Lucas' glare, I could only follow Jim when he started dragging me to the porch and into their house. I could not look Lucas in the eye as I passed him.

Mary embraced me as soon as she saw me, while Danny, Lucas' youngest brother, welcomed me, too. It was so hard to smile at them, but I managed to, even if the smile had to be forced from my lips. Lucas mumbled something about putting on some clothes before he was off to the stairs, heading for his room. Jim was taking the foods I brought to the kitchen, so I could not confront him about what he did. When he returned, he sat beside me on the couch, grinning. His mother was still there, telling Danny something about going to town, so I had to talk to Jim in whispers.

"What was that about, James?" I hissed at him, glaring.

He looked so amused that I wanted to slap him, especially when he whispered back, "Relax, lady. I just wanted to know how your lips taste like. I'm telling you, they're sweet."

I frowned at him as blood rushed up my face. "James!"

But he only winked at me and took my hand as his eyes left my face. I followed his gaze and found Lucas watching us from the stairs. Lucas' gaze was cold – just like the way it was when we last spoke. I knew how it must look to Lucas – what with Jim and I conversing in whispers, me blushing, and Jim taking my hand. I wanted to groan aloud and hit Jim's head with something huge and heavy, but Mary and Danny's presence was keeping me from acting rashly.

"Do you need anything from town, Selene?" Mary asked me.

I shook my head and looked at her. "No, thank you."

"How about your grandmother?" she asked.

Grandmother told me that we needed some chopped woods, but I figured that I only had to tell Jim about that once he was already walking me home. After all, it was Jim who chopped woods for us for the last several months. He surely would not mind.

"She's got all she needs," I told Mary, smiling. "Thank you."

Lucas joined us, and Mary smiled as she linked her arms with her son's. "Lucas just came home from his Aunt Susanna's last night. It was a surprise to all of us."

I smiled tentatively at Lucas. "Welcome home."

At least, he tried to be civil and smiled back. "Thank you."

I could tell that Mary was watching us closely, but not openly. When she realized that Lucas and I would not be exchanging more words with one another, she led all of us to the dining room, where George was busily setting the table. George smiled warmly when he saw me, and declared that he was his wife's kitchen assistant for the whole day. I managed a chuckle at that.

It was so hard trying to act and look normal when your insides were turning upside down with nervousness. I was positive that Mary, George, and even Danny could tell that I was feeling uneasy, although they were too nice to actually say something about it. Jim was the only one who looked like he was enjoying the moment. In fact, he seemed to be very intent on giving me hell, as he insisted on serving me food every time he got the chance. Not that I had some appetite left, anyway: Lucas' coldness took it away.

As soon as lunch was finished, I gave Mary a lame excuse as to why I would like to go home early. It was futile to lie, I knew, but it was better than telling them outright that Lucas' presence was making me uncomfortable. So George and Mary started preparing the food they wanted me to bring home. Danny excused himself by saying that he needed to get ready for going to town, which left me alone with Jim and Lucas in the front porch.

"I'll walk you home," Jim offered, smiling as he took my hand.

That was the best thing he had said all day. I've wanted nothing more than to be alone with him so that I could beat him up for what he was doing.

"I'll walk her home," Lucas said grimly. "You go to town with Daniel."

I looked at Lucas then and saw that he was still furious. At least, he was glaring at Jim right now, not at me. That he called Danny 'Daniel' was indication enough that he was seething with anger. I was suddenly afraid. I did not want to be alone with this man. I had never seen Lucas that furious before. Almost without realizing it, I was already gripping Jim's hand tightly. I looked at him imploringly.

"James," I said in a desperate whisper, trying to convey the message without having to voice it out loud.

The very devil found that extremely amusing. Grinning from ear to ear, he put his arms around me right in front of his brother, kissing my head as he did so. I wanted to die – or to kill, at the very least. By that time, however, Lucas was already in control of his emotions. He looked almost calm, although the way his narrowed eyes bore on mine told me that he was condemning me to the pits of hell. Jim gently led me away so that we could talk without Lucas overhearing us.

I did not know what to feel anymore. I could not keep my eyes off Lucas', even though the accusations behind his eyes were tearing me apart.

"He's so mad," I complained to Jim when I finally looked away from his brother.

Jim chuckled softly and held me at arm's length. "Yes, he is. I am very glad that I do not have to be alone with him."

I frowned at him. "This is all your fault, and now I need to walk home with a furious man."

"Lucas will never hurt you," Jim said, smiling as he pulled me close. "However, nothing will keep him from hurting me. In fact, if I were to be left alone with him right now, I think he would kill me without even considering the fact that I am his brother, flesh and blood."

"If you think that consoles me..." I started.

Jim placed my face between his palms and smiled gently. Often, when I looked at him, I would see a boy. He might be two months older than me, but Jim's playful personality made him look much younger, much less mature. However, as I looked at him right now, I could see that he was not as immature as I thought he was.

"Trust me," he said. "You will be okay with my brother."

I nodded, trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. If only I had a choice, I would not walk home with Lucas. I would rather return home alone. But if I refused his company, Mary and George would be offended, I knew.

"And..." Jim suddenly looked a bit uneasy, although he grinned. "Don't you get any ideas, all right? I am not secretly in love with you. You will always be a little sister to me. I'm just trying to see how far I can push Lucas before he pushes back."

"What's that got to do with me?" I asked him, punching his arm lightly as I moved away.

He whispered the answer to my ears. "I'm not secretly in love with you the way that my brother is."

That made my face colour up. I looked at Lucas, who was frowning as he looked without blinking at the tree to the left of the porch. When he felt my eyes on him, he turned his gaze on me, and I had to look away when I felt my face burning hotter.

"You dream things up," I told Jim. "He can't be – "

Jim laughed as he started walking away from me. "You're just blind."

Before I could think of something to say, Mary went out of their house holding the basket of food for Grandmother. She bid me goodbye and gave the basket to Lucas. I was probably trembling in fear when Mary embraced me, and if she noticed, she gave out no clue.

*****

When I was just a little child, Grandmother tried to prevent me from strolling to the river by telling me the made-up story of a little girl who went there and saw a huge crocodile waiting to swallow her up. The little girl ran away from the river as fast as she could, terrified. I giggled at that story back then, telling Grandmother that there was never a crocodile in the river.

That story popped into my head as I began walking home with Lucas, and I thought that, had there been a little girl and a crocodile in reality, the little girl would have felt the terror I was feeling right then.

I was walking ahead of him, not wanting to walk side by side. I could feel his gaze on my back, and I was afraid of looking back. I knew what I was going to see: that furious, accusing look from the man who had always been my best friend.

I tried to swallow back my tears for as long as I could, but halfway to our house, I lost the fight. I found myself desperately trying to wipe my tears away. It was not like me to cry like this. As if fate was teasing me, I remembered that, from the moment I turned thirteen, the first batch of tears I cried was also caused by Lucas: that day when I wanted to apologize to him and I ended up crying in Mary's arms.

Jim said that Lucas would never hurt me. Yeah, right. Physically, maybe not, but that was not the only way for you to hurt a person.

"Is the prospect of being alone with me really that despicable that you have to cry right now?"

Lucas' question startled me. I stopped walking to turn and look at him. He, too, stopped, and the coldness in his eyes tear through my heart, breaking it the way that nothing – not even Marcus' departure – ever did. He shook his head and grinned with bitterness.