Chapter 11
TOBIAS
I don't even realize that I had fallen asleep until I wake up in a room that's pitch black.
It's not that I meant to commandeer the bedroom. I just wanted to be left alone. I laid myself on the bed with thoughts of just calming myself down for a few minutes, but after weeks of sleeping on the sofa, my body gladly welcomed the comfort. Even more so, I was exhausted. Physically, emotionally, and just about in every way possible.
I wasn't proud of myself for yelling at Beatrice the way I did, even if she was practically begging for it. But neither was I going to apologize to her, not after everything she had done to make my life miserable. Honestly, I was half expecting her to follow me up the stairs or to come knock on the door, demanding that I come out of her bedroom. To say I was relieved when she didn't would be a gross understatement.
But I wasn't just angry at Beatrice, not entirely. More than anything else, I was ashamed that she had figured out the one thing that no one else has ever known about me. No one else but her mother, that is. As much as I had wanted as amicable a relationship as possible between us, I wasn't ready to share that part of my life with her just yet.
I had seen the horror in her eyes as she put the pieces together, and I couldn't bear to watch her look at me like that. Even now, I don't think I want to face her. I'm not sure how the morning's revelations would affect her behaviour, and I don't know which would be worse; her pity or her indifference. But not liking the idea of her sleeping in the sofa for the night, I climb out of the bed and walk out of the bedroom. I shake my head and curse at myself about how undeniably stupid I am for this, considering that Beatrice has never hesitated to disregard my comfort.
I go downstairs and find her already asleep in the sofa, so I approach carefully, not wanting to wake her. I bend my knees in front of her, and though it's dark, I can see that her eyes are closed but swollen. And she's hurdled up into a tight ball though she needn't be. It isn't particularly cold and the sofa is just wide enough to comfortably suit the entire length of her body. She doesn't look uncomfortable, yet still I can't seem to convince myself to leave her there.
I pick her up easily, one arm below her knees and the other under her shoulder and around her back, and slowly I bring her up to my chest. Beatrice stirs in my arms but she doesn't wake. Her breathing evens and she presses her face into my neck. It's only now that I'm carrying her that I realize just how petite she is.
I move slowly. I'm careful with every step that I take up the stairs, and even more careful when I lay her down on the bed. Then I take a step back and just look at her for a minute.
Her lips are slightly parted and her bun is undone, leaving thick strips of golden hair to fall freely over her face and shoulders. She looks peaceful this way, though the trace of sadness in her eyes is undeniable. I suppose she really did believe that I was a willing participant in the dissolution of her family, hence her anger towards me. I guess, though vexing, her behaviour was in some way understandable. I don't know what to expect when she wakes up now that she knows the truth. But mentally too tired to wonder about what all this means for us, I take to the sofa for the rest of the night.
I wake up to the smell of fresh ginger tea and bread.
I open my eyes and sit up on the sofa, only to see Beatrice already in the kitchen. Her back is turned to me and I can't stop myself from staring at her as she gracefully manoeuvres the hot baking pan and the fire under the eggs. She tiptoes as she reaches up into the cupboards with the plates, and then gently she grabs them and sets them on the counter. She reaches up again, this time taking down two tea mugs.
She pours the first mug of tea and the sweet smell of it fills the air as dancing waves of steam rise up from the mug. Carefully, she takes it in her hand, and that's when she spins around. She goes to take a step, but realizing that I'm staring at her, Beatrice freezes, mug in hand.
She eyes me carefully for a minute, and then apprehensively says, "Tobias… Good morning." Then she bites her bottom lip and stares at my feet. I feel something squeeze the inside of my chest as I let out a breath, and I can already tell that this is going to be the most awkward morning of my life.
"Good morning," I say tightly, not sure what to make of this. "You made breakfast," I say more than ask as I slowly rise from the sofa. I walk carefully into the kitchen, as if considering every step. It's only natural. I can't be too sure that Beatrice won't still try to poison me.
"Yes," Beatrice says softly as she resumes her journey to the table. She sets the mug down and then ushers me to sit. When I remain planted where I stand, her earnest and swollen eyes sink and she whispers, "Please."
Her eyes are pleading, and something inside me wins as it coaxes me to oblige her, and I take a seat at the head of the table, my face guarded as she serves me breakfast. She serves herself second, and silently takes a seat when everything is set on the table. I eye the food suspiciously, remembering precisely the taste of salted eggs and sour milk.
When Beatrice sees my hesitation, she says, "I promise, it's not… bad." Her cheeks turn red with embarrassment, both hands placed in her lap. I look at her for a short while and then I nod though I'm not too crazy about believing her. So when I pick up my fork, I sniff the eggs covertly before placing it into my mouth.
To my sweet surprise it's delicious, and the bread is soft and warm in my mouth. I take a sip of tea and it feels as good in my stomach as it does on my tongue. I close my eyes as I chew, not sure if I should be upset at the fact that Beatrice has been making bad food on purpose, feel content knowing whatever unspoken war that was brewing between us has finally come to an end, or laugh because this entire situation has been nothing short of amusing in the very worst way possible.
I choose to not react at all, thinking it best to not risk ruining my day while still only at breakfast. We both eat in silence, and Beatrice doesn't bring herself to look at me even once.
But not too much time passes before reality invites itself into my thoughts and I'm unable to push it aside. I know for a fact that it will be an uncomfortable conversation, but I also know that at some point Beatrice and I will have to talk about what happened. Not talking was how we ended up in this mess in the first place.
When I'm done eating, I look at Beatrice seriously for a moment, a long moment, wondering what she might be thinking.
"Beatrice?" I say her name, and this time she does look up at me. We both stare thoughtfully at each other, neither of us quite sure what to say. So to end the silence I just say, "Thank you."
She smiles but only a little. "Thank you… for taking me to the bed, I mean," she eventually says, softly. I notice her bottom lip trembling, and it only stops when she catches it between her teeth. "Tobias, I really am sorry… about everything," she then says solemnly. "I really hope you can forgive me."
She stares serenely at me, her eyes wide and hopeful, begging me to say something. There's a pure honesty in the way she looks at me and I stare back with equal intensity. It should be easier than this; looking at her with resentment, telling her that her apology is nowhere near enough. But her eyes are beautiful, pale blue and wide open like a cloudless Saturday morning, and more than anything else they're remorseful, making it ridiculously impossible to stay mad at her.
Giving in to the tightness in my chest, I say, "I do," and Beatrice's eyes begin to gloss over.
"Thank you. You're a good person, Tobias," she says softly, still staring into my eyes. "You have a kind heart."
Though no one has ever used those words to describe me before, they make me feel warm and assured, as if they've always been true. It makes me feel better than I ever did when my father complimented me, and I wonder if it's because it's what she thinks of me. Or maybe it's because I was trying for so long to make her see that I was nothing like him, and now she finally has.
I nod with a small smile and continue to sip what's left of my tea. And it's only out of the corner of my eye that I see Beatrice suddenly look away, biting at her lip again, obviously fighting back tears.
"Beatrice?" I ask as I set down the tea mug, unable to hide my concern. But the sound of my voice seems to break her, and the tears come rushing down before she ever has a chance to stop them. "No," I think I whisper as I quickly get out of my seat and take a knee beside her chair. "Don't cry," I say.
I look up at her, but Beatrice just turns her head away, pressing it into her left shoulder as she tries to choke back the sobs. But she fails miserably, and in only a matter of seconds her face is buried in her palms.
"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, Tobias," she whimpers, trying so hard to not look at me. "I feel so horrible. More than you can imagine."
"Hey…" I say a little sternly. "Look at me."
Hesitantly, Beatrice turns her face in my direction, and slowly her eyes wander upward until they land in mine. The tears streaming down her cheeks make me feel weak all of a sudden, regretful of every unkind word I said to her yesterday. She may not be my most favourite person in the world, but I never want to make her cry. And somehow I get the feeling that she's been crying all night.
"Don't cry," I whisper. Without thought, I lift my hand and press it against her cheek. My thumb slides over her smooth skin as it turns her tears into nothing but a smear. Then I become lost in her eyes again, and I just stare at her, pondering how it is that this vile woman affects me so. But that's just it. She isn't vile at all, is she? And maybe I always knew that.
"You must think I'm a monster," she says softly and she shakes her head a little, my palm still resting on her cheek. Before I could answer she continues, "I swear I'm not. I know it doesn't make it right, but I only treated you like that because I thought that you were a part of Marcus' game and that you had ripped me away from my family just so you could use me to make a better name for yourself. I felt cheap and deceived. I was hurt and angry and I let my pride get the best of me even when I shouldn't have." She looks away and stares at her fingers again when she says, "I never even gave you a chance."
In that moment I find that there is absolutely nothing in me that feels even remotely triumphant that Beatrice has completely come apart in front of me. I feel her pain tugging at my insides as if it were my own. So wanting nothing more than to make it go away, I assure her, "It's ok. You didn't know. I'm sure that if you did you wouldn't have acted the way that you did. Right?"
She shakes her head. "It's not ok, Tobias. There's no justification for the way I treated you."
"Maybe not… but I do understand," I say. And really, I do. All of my life, Marcus' cruelty has made me want to lash out, tear through walls. I can imagine how angry it must have made her, being forced to marry me and then having to live in the same house with me while believing that she was not important to me beyond the social and domestic perquisites that came along with having her as a wife. Granted, she didn't handle it in the finest way, but I believe Marcus could bring out the worst in anyone if he tried.
"You do?" Beatrice asks me, turning to look at me again.
"Yeah," I say with a nod. "I had wondered why everything had changed so suddenly, but considering that you overheard what Marcus said to me, I can't really blame you for thinking what you did."
I want to tell her that I wish she had told me, but I quickly realize that she barely knows me and maybe it would be unfair to just expect that from her. Although I did my best to assure her that I really did care for her, it meant nothing once she had overheard Marcus' intentions. Beatrice had no reason to trust me, after all. All of this may have been my own fault actually. I should have told Marcus right then and there to shut the hell up. If I had known she was listening, I certainly would have.
"I didn't know… about Marcus," she says carefully. And pressing her hand into my own where it still rests on her cheek she asks, "Do any of the members know?"
"Just one," I say. "And now two."
Together, our hands fall from her face and into her lap, and twisting her small fingers around my own, Beatrice firmly says, "Well, he can't hurt you anymore," as if she were promising to protect me herself. The thought brings a small smile to my face. I feel a strange admiration for her. She has never been afraid of him.
"Tobias?" Beatrice then asks, turning her body in the chair to face me completely. "Can we please start over?" Her voice is barely a whisper. Her fingers squeeze tighter around my hand, and I feel it again, that brush of static when her fingers glide against my palm. And when that incredible feeling is combined with her vulnerable and honest gaze, I know that I couldn't say no to her no matter how hard I tried, no matter how mad I was.
"We can," I say. "But on one condition." Beatrice eyes me nervously until I say, "No more salty eggs."
And finally, she smiles wide. Unable to hold back a shy laugh she says, "Ok. No more salty eggs." And there she is again, the beautiful girl who sat across from me at her parents' dinner table. Seemingly small and quiet, yet brave enough to think herself a match for my father.
Reluctantly, I release her hand and return to my seat at the table. I feel a strange desire to sit closer to her, but I settle for watching her quietly as she finishes her breakfast. I can feel as the part of me that prefers to tread carefully before I trust her slowly fades away. And really, I don't mind it.
When she's done with her breakfast, Beatrice and I both work together to tidy the kitchen. And for the first time since we've been married, we pass the day away from each other's throats and actually seeking out each other's company. We don't say much to each other, but the horrid tension has been replaced with small smiles and kind gestures. All in all… It proves to be a wonderful Sunday.
A/N: I really hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Many thanks to Bamberlee who continues to make each chapter better ;) And also to my faithful reviewers. Understanding what you guys think about each chapter and knowing what you want to see happen actually gives me ideas when I'm writing, so you're all a big part of the creation of this story. Thanks again! :D
