Veronica
I didn’t see Stefan for three days after what happened in the cellar. Maria just said he’d gone out on business. I don’t know how I’d missed him leaving the bed that morning. I wondered what time he had left. I hadn’t even felt him move when he’d climbed out of bed. All I knew was I’d slept like a rock in the warmth and safety of his arms. This man who would steal me away-he was the one who made me feel safer than I’d felt in years. Ever since my parents had died.
I’d been so young, but with Robyn being younger, I’d become her protector, in a way. It wasn’t even a conscious thing. It felt good to finally let go. So good, it made me realize how I’d been holding on for so long.
But what about Robyn now? What would happen to her, now that I was gone? Who would protect her?
This idiocy about feeling safe in Stefan’s arms, what was that? Shouldn’t I feel the most afraid there?
But the image of him that night in the cellar, of his eyes, I couldn’t get it out of my head.
Stefan Armando was broken. I wondered how long ago he’d been broken. Who’d done the breaking. The marks on his back told a horrifying story. How old had he been when it had happened? Judging from the scar tissue, it wasn’t a one-time thing. Not even close.
It was late afternoon on the third day and the shadows had begun to grow long. When Eric went inside to eat dinner, I snuck away, tired of constantly being watched. I needed fresh air and exercise to clear my head, and quite frankly, I hoped I’d run into him. I wanted to see Stefan, to face this-whatever this was.
I didn’t realize I was heading to the chapel until I got there. I wondered about the tunnel that led from the house here but shuddered at the thought of being underground for that amount of distance. I’d never been claustrophobic, but that scared me.
Instead of walking to the front door of the church, I headed around back. It felt a little wrong to do so, to come here without Stefan knowing, but I wanted to see his mother’s grave. See where he’d been that night.
The overgrown path didn’t help my progress, but I pushed open the creaky little gate around the side of the church. I wondered how I’d missed the graveyard the first day we’d come here, when he’d shown me the chapel, but with the thigh-deep grass, the grave markers were well hidden. Pushing weeds aside, I counted over a dozen grave markers, most of them flat stones in the ground, some taller. Finding his mother’s wasn’t hard. It was the only one with the weeds and overgrown grass cleared-literally pulled apart-and a single wilted dandelion lay before it.
He’d left a dandelion. He’d probably plucked it from the ground beside the grave. I felt sad to look at it, to think of him here, realizing he’d come empty-handed to visit his mother after all this time. I thought of him alone. Sitting in the spot where I stood now. And all I felt was lonely. It was almost too much.
The sound of a branch breaking startled me, making me spin around, my hand to my heart.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.”
For the briefest of moments, I thought it was Stefan. But then Stephen smiled, and I hoped he didn’t see my disappointment.
I forced a smile. “No, you didn’t. I’m just jumpy.” Embarrassed, I gestured around me. “Dusk in a cemetery. Probably not my smartest move.”
Stephen walked toward me. “I got here early. I like to come to the chapel when I’m here.” He looked at the grave. “He won’t let anyone maintain it.”
I followed his gaze to the dandelion.
“Why not?”
Stephen shook his head and looked at me, and the similarity in their features struck me.
“If I know my brother, he feels guilty over her death. He’s like that. As hard as he is on the outside, he takes it all on on the inside. Always did.”
A sudden gust of wind made me shiver.
Stephen took off the sweater he was wearing and draped it over my shoulders. The gesture was kind, and maybe it was the fact that he was almost a priest that I didn’t take it any way other than that. I noticed that he wore a black T-shirt beneath it, noticed he was built like his brother, and I quickly blinked away.
“Come on, let’s go inside. It won’t be much warmer, but you’ll be out of the wind.”
I climbed the stairs with Stephen behind me. He pushed the door open, and I entered.
“How did you manage to get here on your own, anyway?”
“You mean Eric?”
He nodded.
“He was having dinner.”
“Stefan won’t like that.”
“Too bad. I don’t see why he needs to have me watched anyway.”
“It’s for your protection. And Maria’s and the staff. Our father had enemies.”
“I know. It’s still odd.” We sat down in a pew. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“I know it sounds strange, but the priest thing…” I shook my head. “I’m sorry, it’s none of my business really, but I just want to understand.”
“It’s fine. I think it’s a normal question to have, but I don’t really have an answer. Not one that makes sense. It’s just… a feeling.”
I nodded, although I wasn’t sure I understood what he meant.
He continued. “I like it here. It always soothes me somehow. Even though I live in a seminary and attend mass daily, this little chapel makes me feel something different.”
“It’s a special place.”
“Maybe I like the ceremony of the Catholic church. The discipline. It too soothes me, I suppose. But maybe I’m just trying to escape the past. Who I am. The blood in my veins.” We both looked at the altar as he spoke.
“You hold onto guilt too.”
“No, it’s different.”
“Have you ever been in love?” I asked before I could stop myself.
He smiled at me and shrugged a shoulder. “I went through a period of falling in love nightly with a different woman on each night.”
I felt myself blush.
“How is my brother treating you?” he asked.
“He’s… different than I thought he would be.”
“He’s not a monster, Veronica. When I met you, I thought you might be able to help him see that. But you have to see it first.”
“I do. That’s the thing. I just don’t understand him, I guess. I expected him to be cruel. Or crueler. It would make more sense if he was.” We sat quietly for a minute, our eyes on the altar. When a small mouse scurried over the top of it, I startled.
“I think he lives here,” Stephen said with a smile. “He seems to be here every time I am.”
“I guess it’s good the chapel is used by some… thing, even if it’s just a mouse.” I turned to him. “Stephen, I’m sure this is very personal but… I don’t know how to ask it actually.”
“Just ask it.”
He was so frank and so easy to talk to. “Stefan has marks on his back.”
Stephen’s face darkened, and he shifted his gaze away from mine.
“And I was in the cellar the other night. I found him there. He said he’d been to your mother’s grave, and I know he was drinking, and he-he wasn’t himself.” I hesitated, but decided to tell him what I thought. “I saw the pillar.”
He nodded and returned his attention to the altar. “Our father was not a gentle man, Veronica,” he said gravely before looking at me again. “And Stefan was a good brother. A protective brother to me and Zachariah.”
“What-”
“The rest is for him to tell.”