Excerpt: A Forgotten Tune

By mid-week, Ely had cause to rethink his conversation with Neel. Scarlet was no longer confined to a bed or in his mother’s modest, over-long nightgowns. She was dressed in a pair of shorts and a tee shirt, standing before him with a luscious smile on her face. The bruises were fading away to show the creamy texture of her pale skin, which only accentuated the bright green of her eyes and the flame of her red hair.

She still spoke very little, but when she did say something, the sound of her soft voice could melt an iceberg. Although she had not ventured outdoors, she could often be found at one of the windows, sighing wistfully.

“You hungry?” he asked, unable to stop the grin that spread across his face. “I’ll have breakfast ready in a minute.

Stopping short when he entered the kitchen, he stared in surprise at the table. It was laden with food, all steaming hot and ready to eat.

“You did all this?” he asked, turning to look at her.

She nodded, her shy lips parting to show a flash of white teeth. She looked so proud of herself, the way she stood, silently awaiting his approval. Glancing around again, he saw how clean everything was. She’d cooked enough food for a small army and still had energy left to clean up after herself.

The table held platters of meat and eggs, a bowl of cooked apples and a basket of biscuits, still warm from the oven. She’d found his store of jams and jellies the local women had given him, made from the surplus of fruit he was constantly giving away. There was a pitcher of what looked like apple juice and a steaming pot of fragrant coffee near his plate. Then he noticed that there was only one place set.

“I can’t believe this.” he said, looking at her in wonder. “What time did you get up?”

The smile fell away from her face, her eyes dropping to look at the floor.

“You had another bad dream, didn’t you?” he asked, taking a step closer to her.

She nodded, lifting her gaze. He was struck by the timeless depths of her green eyes, felt a strong pull, as if she were drawing him in.

Giving himself a mental shake to diffuse the spell that had come over him, he thought of the first time she had awakened screaming. He’d thought someone was attacking her in her bed. Without stopping to pull on a pair of trousers, he’d run down the hall to storm her room.

He’d found her fighting the air around her, lashing out at demons only she could see. He had woke her by wrapping his arms around her to stop her thrashing, finding it difficult to let go again when she had snuggled her trembling body against him. She hadn’t slept the rest of that night, had spent the time pacing from room to room until the sun finally rose.

“Did you remember anything?” he asked gently, placing a hand on her arm.

She shook her head, turning her gaze to the window near the table. He wondered if it was intentional on her part, but she seemed to be leaning into his hand.

“Let’s get some food into you,” he said, nudging her toward a chair. “How come you only set one place? You didn’t already eat, did you?”

She shook her head, shrugging her shoulders. Once she was seated, he went to a cabinet to get her a plate and silverware from a drawer. He was tempted, once more, to speak to her about what Dunc had told him, but something in her demeanor just wouldn’t let him. She seemed so fragile, as if one wrong word would break her.

“We need to talk, Scarlet,” he said, placing the plate in front of her.

She looked up expectantly, a hint of dread in her sea green eyes. The sunlight from the window caught in the rich, red hair that framed her face, seeming to set her on fire. She was actually glowing.

“I need you to talk to me,” he added, spooning a mound of scrambled eggs onto her plate. “You barely say anything, and usually only in monosyllables. I want to help you, but I can’t if I don’t know what’s going on with you.”

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, staring at her plate.

“Look at me, honey,” he said, hooking a finger under her chin. “You have to talk to me.”

“I don’t have anything to say, Elijah.”

The sound of his name on her lips gave him a lurch he couldn’t explain. He found himself swallowing hard, reaching for his coffee to wash down the lump in his throat.

“I think you, do,” he said after clearing his voice. “Just talk to me. Tell me anything you remember or anything you’re thinking. It may not seem like much, but every little bit helps.”

“I don’t remember anything,” she said, her eyes pleading. “It’s like a forgotten tune. You know it's there but the melody just won't come.”

He was quickly becoming lost in the hypnotic trance in which her eyes held him. She was pulling him in deeper with her gaze. Shaking his head to clear it, he concentrated on eating.

“Do you remember how you got in my barn?” he asked around a bite of sausage.

“Not… really,” she replied, poking at her eggs with a fork. “I was just sort of there. And then you were there. And then, you and Neel were helping me. I… Thank you, for helping me.”

He reached out, covering her hand with his. She turned her palm over, lacing their fingers together and holding on for dear life. Her eyes still held that plea.

“I was glad to do it, Scarlet. I’ll help you get through this, however long it takes,” he said, reaching for his coffee cup with his free hand.

“Am I ugly?”

He choked, sputtering as coffee sprayed from his nose. She ran for a towel, dropping on her knees in front of him, trying to wipe the mess up while he wheezed.

It took him a minute to recover enough to choke out, “No, you’re not ugly.”

“Someone messed up my face,” she said, lowering her head.

He placed a hand on her cheek, forcing her to look up at him.

“Honey, your face will heal. The bruises are almost gone, that scar on your forehead will fade and the swelling is down. You’re anything but ugly. Believe me.”

“Why can’t you look at me, then?”

“I’m looking at you right now.”

“But you always turn away, like looking at me hurts you.”

There was no way Ely could tell her he wanted to lose himself in her eyes every time she gazed at him, or the battle that was getting tougher to wage against the urge to take her into his arms. Instead, he smiled at her and tweaked her nose.

“You’re as pretty as the new day, sweetheart,” he said, nudging her back to her chair. “You have beautiful eyes and a smile that lights up a room. Never think you’re ugly.”

She took her seat once more, watching as Ely wiped up coffee from the table. After a few minutes of poking at the food on her plate, she laid her fork aside.

“I remember water. It was a river, I think.”

“Okay. That’s a start. What do you remember about it?”

“I was on the mud next to it and everything hurt. There was something tied around my ankle. It was heavy.”

Ely wasn’t accustomed to anger. He’d never had time for it in his life. Too many people wasted precious energy on that useless emotion, but now he was angry. He had a mental image of the poor woman fighting her way from the water, weighted at the ankle, struggling to survive. He reached out to strum his thumb along the scar on her wrist, thinking of the hell she’d been through.