[ARTEMY]
As the meadow unveiled its beauty, I paused, my back leaning against a tree. Gasping for breath, my gaze eventually settled upon Rebecca. Her back was turned, fixed upon the coursing stream. She perched upon a rock, her ebony tresses cascading freely.
Running quietly, I arrived and stood next to her. She stared ahead, seemingly unaffected by my presence. Lowering my gaze to her appearance, I crave for a hint of a smile or a glint of light within her eyes.
Alas, no one was following me, and the weight in my heart deepened, my stomach coiling in knots.
She’s staring at the creek, without any signs of emotion. This place held significance within her memory, a hidden fragment resurfacing. Was this her slow introduction with the past or a search for peace as before?
The piano room and this very creek were her sanctuaries, granting solace upon her. Now, she groped for them, driven by an unconscious impulse.
Kneeling before her, I winced as my protesting muscles strained against the ache in my leg. Her gaze remained fixed upon the creek beyond me.
I offered a gentle smile, already adapted to this reaction. She wasn’t indifferent to my presence; she acknowledged me, even if silently. My Angel struggled to allow herself to feel.
Understanding this didn’t alleviate the ache within me, the heartache that surged every time her vacant green eyes met mine. With each passing day, the pain deepened. Loneliness gnawed at me, a torment almost unbearable. Yet, for Rebecca’s sake, I forged ahead, mustering strength to endure.
Cupping her cheeks, I caressed her velvety skin. “You can’t leave me like this. Do you understand the worry that I feel, Angel? Everyone is looking over the mansion for you. Waking up without you next to me was really painful. Please, don’t do this again.”
No response. It was expected. I got used to talking to Rebecca and not getting any response. Somewhere deep within, she recognized my voice. Foolishly, I clung to the belief that she heard me.
“Next time, let me know where you want to go,” I plead gently. “Nona nearly suffered a collapse. Spare the poor woman. Angel,” I murmured, placing a tender kiss upon her nose. “Will you talk to me? Anything. Just utter a word. I can’t deal with your silence any longer.”
Her gaze finally shifted to meet mine, and an involuntary surge of joy almost propelled me off my feet. In that seemingly small gesture, a tide of emotions surge through me, instilling it with deepest meaning.
“Please,” I pleaded, the words escaping my lips like an intense prayer. My voice carried the weight of longing and desperation. “Angel, I beg you. Let me hear your voice again. I want to hear your melodic tones, to feel your presence through your words. Just one single sound…” My voice faltered, the intensity of my emotions almost overwhelming me. Summoning a deep breath, I steadied myself and continued, “… to make sure you understand what I’m saying, that you notice my existence.”
Yet, she remained silent, like an impenetrable barrier. I glanced downwards, my efforts to hold back tears falling is in vain.
At that moment, the agony of my soul resounded through me. Rebecca stood before me, her feet bare and marred with bruises and blood. She had walked the distance from our home to the creek, her journey leaving a trail of mud and dirt etched onto her feet.
“Angel,” I whimpered, the sound escaping my lips weight with the tremors of my broken voice. Tears slid down my cheeks, showing how I feel inside. Though they were but a few drops, the struggle to contain them felt somehow impossible.
Seeking refuge, I buried my face into the sanctuary of Rebecca’s lap and allowed my tears to flow. “I begged you,” I whispered, my voice a fragile thread that encapsulated my vulnerability. “Say my name. Let it come from your mouth like a blessing. Give me the comfort of hearing you speak.”
Clasping her knees, I pressed my cheek against her thighs, seeking solace in her presence. “Just my name,” I plead, my words carrying the weight of my heart’s longing. “That’s all I ask of you. Please, Rebecca. I begged you.”
Without any care for the world around me, I let out a sobs and appeals, my heart shattering repeatedly within my chest. With my face still nestled in her lap, I persisted in waiting. I felt a slight shift in her posture, a movement that stirred hope within me. I almost sensed her hand approaching my arm, but then, it retreated. My Angel refrained from contact. She did not reach out to grasp me. She did not break the silence.
Time expanded in the midst of my anticipation. I endured the silence for a duration unknown, my patience stretched to its limit. And yet, what greeted me was silence, a vacuum untouched by sound.
After my tears had dried and my emotions somewhat subside, I leaned back and brushed my wet cheeks, meeting Rebecca’s vacant gaze. Her eyes flickered briefly towards me before fixating on the water again.
“You were always endowed with a tenacious spirit,” I murmured, my touch gentle as I caressed her cheek. “I stay detemined, Angel. Your memory might have faded, but I once promised to never give up on you. I want you to keep faith in us.”
Leaning closer, I tenderly brushed my lips against hers, a kiss as delicate as the flutter of a butterfly’s wing. “Let me say it again: I will not abandon you. Or forsake us.”
A faint smile graced my lips, a testament to my determination. “I never give up more than you do. I always get what I want. And what I want right now, my heart wishes earnestly is you.”
Her gaze remained affixed to the creek, and I settled onto the ground, granting her the time to absorb the view. My palm found its place upon her stomach, where the baby stirred beneath my touch.
A dance of connection seemed to play out each time my fingers brushed against Rebecca’s belly. The baby, responsive even in the depths of night, acknowledged my touch. A bond, perhaps, had formed, evoking the clenching ache in my chest at each flutter.
After a while, I rose and wrapped Rebecca in my arms, cradling her against my chest. With her nestled securely, I led her back to the mansion where the others were waiting for our return.
Upon entering, Nona’s eyes widened, and she ran upstairs. Brayden extended his assistance, but I proceeded past him, guided by a singular purpose. Reaching my room, I walked directly into the bathroom, Nona in tow.
“Let me handle this. Can you prepare a tray?” I directed, gently seating Rebecca at the edge of the tub.
Nona nodded mutely and withdrew. I pivoted Rebecca so her feet dangled in the tub’s basin. “This might sting a bit,” I warned, the words tinged with empathy. I tenderly cleansed her feet, washing away the grime and blood. Throughout, not a sound escaped Rebecca’s lips, nor did she offer any movement. The pain was mine to bear.
As her feet gradually emerged pristine, I sighed in relief, the appearance of injury far worse than its actuality. Drying her feet gently, I assisted her out of the tub.
“Feeling better?” I inquired, enfolding her in my embrace. She sighed against my chest, and I found solace in the simple act. The swell of her abdomen impeded a full embrace, yet I held her as near as I could.
When the ache in my leg became unbearable, I carried her to bed and cocooned her beneath the covers.
The nightstand held the tray, neatly positioned, as I took my seat facing it. With a deliberate motion, I lifted the spoon from the tray.
Nona’s query broke the silence, “Is there anything else you need?”
A gentle shake of my head conveyed my contentment. The spoon held a small mound of rice, poised for its purpose.
Bringing the spoonful to Rebecca’s lips, she accepted it wordlessly, a simple act that ignited a surge of hope within me. After relentless days of imploring and coaxing, a breakthrough had emerged in her eating routine just the day before.
For an entire week, Wyatt had resorted to maintaining her nourishment through an IV the sole channel to sustain her fragile form.
Another spoonful I directed to her lips, the slow rhythm of her chewing and swallowing painting a poignant tableau.
Nona stepped away from the bedside, a fleeting moment before I inquired, “How is Lynda holding up?”
Her response hung in the air, a pregnant pause that anticipated the inevitable outcome. “There has been no change.”
The door shut behind Nona, releasing a sigh from within me, the weight of concern pressing heavily for Lynda. She went to her room to hide, avoiding food and becoming a ghostly version of who she was. My expectation had been for her to come to Rebecca upon hearing of her return, yet she remained distant.
Rebecca and Lynda had not crossed paths since her reappearance, a circumstance that, in certain ways, seemed preferable. The sight of Rebecca’s frailty might have been too much for Lynda to endure.
In the rhythm of our shared routine, I continued to feed Rebecca, each bite carrying its own quiet narrative. Her gaze, fixed on me as always, bestowed an element of consistency to this ritual.
So, I fed her, and I spoke. Her consumption ensued in silence, a silence perhaps punctuated by an attentive ear.
My discourse meandered through various subjects, occasionally weaving in mentions of Howard and Damian.
My father, throughout this duration, had borne the mantle of leadership without complaint. He had seamlessly resumed the role of the Boss. Though I resisted admitting it, gratitude unsealed within me, knowing that he and Howard were managing the business in my absence.
A single visit from them had taken place, brief and wordless. In their eyes, however, I glimpsed recognition, an acknowledgment of my mother embodied in Rebecca. Damian’s reaction upon noticing her pregnancy was marked by a pallor as he exited in a daze, not to return since.
As the tray neared emptiness, I pushed back from the task and stretched my frame. Rebecca’s gaze pursued my motion, and a playful wink was my response. “Shall we go to the piano room?”
Silence.
Amusement danced within me, released in a soft chuckle as I lifted her gently from the bed. A kiss graced her forehead as I cradled her, carrying her to the piano room the place that played host to my daily aspiration of rekindling memories.
Her presence now graced the piano bench. As she stared at me, a little bit of reassurance showed from my smile, even as a pang of pain echoed within me.
This had once been our sacred space, a haven of shared connection. Now, even that sanctuary had dissolved.
“Do you recall the melodies?” I queried, kneeling beside her perch. Though she turned her gaze towards the piano keys, her lips remained motionless. “Every evening, you played for me,” I reminisced, a touch of longing threading through my words. “Those moments were our oasis. You, the pianist; me, the enchanted observer.”
Stillness defined her response.
“Do you remember, my Angel?” Her serenity spurred a sigh, the answer needing no vocalization. “It’s alright. I believe you will remember, in time. You know why?”
I leaned closer.
“Because I’m unyielding, a stubborn soul. I refuse to give up this fight.” Whispering into her ear, I confessed, “One day, those emerald eyes of yours will meet mine with the same wonder and ardor as before.” A tender kiss graced her ear, sealing my sentiment. “Be ready, my kitten.”