House of Glass (11 page)

He knew what I wanted. In a swift movement, he rolled over, pressing me beneath him, and I eagerly spread my legs for him. In that moment, that one delicious moment right before he entered me, each second seemed an eternity, and I begged him, whispered wildly in his ear, my hands buried in his hair, until he pressed himself into me and I cried out his name.

After we made love, I took my time and explored his body. He was beautiful with no clothes on, except for the large pink scar on his leg. It ran from the top of his thigh and wrapped around all the way to his knee.

“What happened to you, Lucas?” I asked him.

“You don’t want to know.”

The way he spoke made me realize that it had something to do with Celeste. “I think I need to know,” I said.

His jaw tightened and a look of sheer agony crossed his face. It was a long minute before he answered, but I kept silent and waited.

When he spoke, I could hear the waver in his voice.

“When I was looking for Celeste, I fell and broke my leg.”

“I’m sorry.” I rubbed his scar with a gentle hand.

“It was sliced open, the bone sticking out.”

My hand stopped.

“I don’t know if I should say—God, I don’t know—but there’s more.”

His hands clenched my skin, digging into it. I didn’t move, didn’t want to disturb him.

“I heard her screams, Reyna. I heard them. Everyone thought I was mad. But I heard her. I know it was her. That’s how I broke my leg. I couldn’t sleep and came out to the gardens, and I heard her cries more clearly than I ever had before, and I knew that I was right. She was alive. She was out there. So I ran and screamed and looked all around. And I fell and broke my leg. Broke my damn leg, busted it open. I couldn’t move, tried to crawl, but…nothing. I had to sit all night and listen to her. And I hollered back, God I yelled, but I don’t know if she heard me. Then, before the sun came up, her voice just faded away. Over and over, I live that night, I can’t escape it.”

A great, aching sadness filled me as I realized that not one, but two people died on that day, and both of them were still lost. Lucas and I were quiet for a long time. I lay with my head on his chest, until his breathing was even and I knew that he slept.

* * *

I wonder what would have happened if I had fallen asleep like Lucas had. Afterward, we lay on the grass and I glanced over at the trees. There was an unusual shape there, just against the tree line. It looked like a headstone, a grave. I went to investigate.

It was not a grave. It was a monument. The letters were chiseled in crudely and worn down, but I could still read them. It read, “High water mark. Storm of 1761. Lucas St. Claire and family washed away.”

I recoiled and stepped away. It was a shock to see his name, his ancestor’s name chiseled in stone. I realized with horror that the ruins we had made love in weren’t abandoned—they had been destroyed. I felt chilled and fought the sensation, the urge that it was an ill omen for us.

Lucas was walking toward me on the sand, in a lazy stride and with messed-up hair.

I pointed to the marker. “They all died,” I said. “They all perished, right here. Your family.”

He came closer and stood for a long moment staring at the stone, before he spoke. “Let’s go home.”

It was only when we were underway again, with the wind blowing the memory of the ill-fated St. Claire family from my mind that we were able to smile and laugh again. Lucas teased me playfully, and helped me steer the boat again, and finally it seemed we had put the whole ordeal behind us.

We returned home to Devlin Manor laughing, with wind-blown salty hair, wrinkled clothes and a glow of satisfaction on our faces. There was no hesitation between our interactions, the sea had wiped away our differences in station and made us equals, if only for an afternoon. When we arrived back at the manor and stood before the stone steps that led to the mahogany doors, I realized that the protective qualities of the ocean had gone, and everything had reverted to the way it was before.

Lucas walked up the steps and when he noticed that I wasn’t behind him he turned. “Come on,” he said simply, as if these complications could be wiped away with his words. “What’s the matter?”

All of a sudden I felt the need to speak plainly. “Your door is at the front.” I nodded toward the path at the side of the house. “Mine is at the back.”

“Nonsense,” he said. “Come with me.”

“No, Lucas.” The manor loomed behind him, massive and unyielding. It would be here forever, always with a St. Claire in it. And if I made a misstep I would be gone, blown away like a discarded piece of paper. I realized that hundreds of years of tradition, of island living would not change things. “I’m sorry.”

My words angered him. His body was tense. “Suit yourself. I’ll see you later.” The last was a statement, not a question.

“I don’t know,” I said. Already, though, my body betrayed me with sensations.

“I know,” he said. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his key ring. He slid a key from it and I recognized the simple miniature shape of the key. He went down two steps and held it out. “Are you looking for this?”

I don’t know how he got the key, but I was powerless to stop my feet from moving to retrieve it. I went and took it from his hand and he gave me a sly look of victory. When the key touched my skin, I felt almost whole again.

He turned and walked up to the doors, yanking them open and striding inside. The house seemed not to swallow him, but to make room for him to enter.

I, however, crept along the side, running my hand along the rough, impenetrable stone. That was how I entered the servants’ door, skulking and guilty.

The door shut behind me with an accusatory clunk that echoed out into the hall. I could hear the sound of utensils and the chatter of the servants. I tried to sneak to my room, but I was thwarted by the ever-aware Mrs. Amber.

She called out to me from the kitchen. “Reyna, come here please.”

The chatter, which only a moment before had filled the air, ceased. I slinked into the kitchen, aware of the blanket of sand that still coated my skin, of my loose hair, of my still-damp beachwear that was rumpled and twisted. I was especially aware of the guilt in my eyes.

The kitchen was a tomb. Servants stared at me with blank eyes, forks half-raised.

“So glad you could join us,” she said.

“I…I’m sorry that I’m late.”

“Don’t be sorry, you were on official duties.” Her words hit louder than plates crashing on the floor.

How strange that at that moment, when her words bit at me, I should think of the glass house. If I were inside of it, I would know exactly what to say to her, how to respond. But I wasn’t there. I wasn’t queen of my domain. I was simply Reyna, servant, orphan, fool.

There was something in her eyes that went beyond reproach. She was furious, but something more…perhaps even sad or disappointed?

She seemed to relent. “I made you a plate,” she said, nodding to the counter, where I saw the meal waiting for me. “Perhaps you should eat it in your room since you are in no shape to join us.”

I went and picked up the plate and left the kitchen. Silence followed me all the way to my room, and it was only when I shut the door behind me that I heard the return of excited voices that chattered loudly.

The food on the plate was already cold and I pecked at it halfheartedly before I set it aside for Maxie. I lay on the small bed and stared at the ceiling, wondering at the fact that I felt more shame for going sailing with Lucas than I did for knowing him intimately.

There was a soft rapping at my door and Mrs. Amber opened it without waiting for a response. She swooped inside, and her manner, her black dress swirling around her, reminded me of a judge. “Are you a fool, girl? That you wouldn’t listen to me?” She stepped forward and lifted the hem of my sarong and shook her head. “I tell each and every one them. Every single girl that comes and sleeps right where you are lying. I warn them all, but they all overstep. None, though, would do so in broad daylight. I thought you might be different.”

“I am different,” I insisted.

She sighed. “No. You’re not. The world operates with set rules.”

“I know that. I do.”

“Then why would you do such a thing?”

“I didn’t know how to say
no
…I wanted to say
yes
…”

“That’s not acceptable. It’s not okay, and you can’t just slip between our world and his. It’s one side or the other, and you were born on the wrong side.”

“I know. I know.”

“And now what? You just return to work, with Mr. St. Claire as your boss?”

No. I go back to the house of glass.
“Whatever I have to do I will do.”

“Where are those girls? Eh? All gone now. Just like you.”

“I won’t be gone.”

“What? You have a trick up your sleeve?”

“No.”

“You’ll be back at work in the morning. Nothing will change for you. Except that I will have my eye on you. One misstep and you are gone.”

“I won’t misstep. I won’t.”

Her dress swirled accusingly as she stepped from the room and locked the door loudly behind her.

Chapter Eight

I craved the house. I needed it, needed its crystal embrace, and its smooth, hard certainness to guide me. The key was already in my hand, safe and warm, and all I needed to do was wait. I waited until I heard Maxie outside. I slid from the window, giving her my cold dinner before I went to the cottage. I did not look back at the fortress, though I could almost feel his eyes on me.

I felt the familiar warmth of the house curl around me. The air was still and strangely quiet and I walked boldly over the glass floor, no longer afraid of the rocks beneath me. Outside the window the moon was just a sliver of brightness, and the lights from the other side of the island twinkled against the darkness.

I heard Lucas at the door when he stepped inside, full of such confidence and surety, yet my coming to meet him was reduced to stealing away. I wished that there was a simple solution to my predicament, but I could see none.

Our lovemaking was brief and intense, and I left him inside the glass house when he shook me awake, just before dawn.

When I climbed back into my window there was a figure sitting on my bed. Mrs. Amber. I hesitated, frozen in the sill, and then realized that there was no choice but to continue, and I did so with the most dignity I could manage.

“Reyna.” Her voice was full of an emotion that I would never ascribe to her. It was full of sorrow. “Why wouldn’t you listen to me?”

“Mrs. Amber, it’s so complicated.”

“It’s really not, Reyna. Sad to say. Tell me, do you think you love him?”

“I…I do.”

“Christ alive.” She rubbed her temples with her fingers. “What have you done? Are you in a bad way?”

“No, not at all.”

“You know I’m only trying to protect you from…” She came toward me and I backed away.

“From what?” I asked. A strange sensation, an uneasy feeling passed over me.

“From making a mistake…” She reached her hand out to mine, and seemed to want to hold my hand, but instead the key tumbled out.

She gasped, a sharp noise that sliced the air between us. “No. You didn’t…this whole time you’ve had it?” Backing away from me, she put her hand over her mouth. “Why would you deceive me? Trick me? Pack your bag and leave,” she said. She held up her arm and pointed to the door before continuing on. “I can understand the misplaced, stupid passions of a young girl. Trust me, I can understand that. But, for you to sneak around like this, to connive and steal my key.”

“No. I am not a thief. That’s wrong. I can explain.” But could I? “Y-you can’t fire me,” I stammered. “You can’t.”

“I can and I did.”

“What about Lucas? He and I…”

“Of all the girls I’ve fired, he’s never complained once. See if you’ll be the one.”

“Please,” I begged her. I tried to angle past her, into the main house. I had to find him. She blocked me.

“Go.” Her voice was cold, so different from the sorrow she had just shown me.

I was angry and struck out at her. “You have no heart. I have feared and hated you since I was a child, and now is no different.”

Her lips pinched together and her voice came out in in a rush of anger. “I learned two things when I was your age. The first is that they never, ever come for you, and the second is that it’s best to avoid pain instead of recover from it, and I hope, one day, you’ll thank me for it.”

Bitterness raged inside me. “Never. I’ll never thank you for it.”

She turned away from me and scooped up the key “You have five minutes to dress and pack. Go.”

* * *

Tears blurred the world before me as I threw my belongings into my father’s old suitcase. It felt lighter than I remembered, because my heart and soul were no longer in it. I fled through the servants’ door and out onto the lawn. The steps, the doors loomed above me and I couldn’t bring myself to walk up them, to pound on them and yell for Lucas. If only I had the glass house around me. It would be easy.

I stood there, a lone figure, like a ghost that wouldn’t leave. A shutter opened just an inch, and I saw Mrs. Amber peeking out at me. She closed the shutter. I turned and walked away. The gates that seemed so ominous when I arrived put up no resistance, and I walked away from Devlin Manor and into the darkness below.

Even though the road led downhill, my pace was slow, each step hesitant. When I reached the dock, I learned that I had missed the late morning ferry back to my side of the island and that it would not arrive until evening. It didn’t matter, because I had nowhere to go. I walked, and without thinking I found myself in front of my father’s old fish stall. Roberto, the man who had bought the stall, stood behind the stand.

His milky-white eyes were kind, and he nodded a greeting at me. “Reyna,” he said kindly, and invited me to sit with him I put my suitcase down and tried to make small talk, but it was useless.

I said goodbye to Roberto and went tosit at my old favorite spot, right at the edge of the dock. I peered over wooden boards and the woman that looked back at me was dressed in somber colors and scuffed boots, and her eyes had the weight of the world upon them.