Chapter 73 – Part 1
"Where love is great, the littlest doubts are fear; Where little fears grow great, great love grows there."
- Hamlet
The air was knocked out from Terry's lungs, when he saw Christian's name upon that envelope. As if it was burned on its surface. He passed his index finger over it. The lines, elegant, clear.
A slight tremble run through his body.
Should he read?
In the time it took him to decide on that question which burned inside him, like a film reel, his mind rewound the time he spent with Candy the last few days;
Stopped at the exact moment he entered the train carriage.
Remembered the anguish inside her big green eyes-
"Where is Christian?"
"What have you done with him?"
"Oh God..."
The wind carried Candy's words. That day, on the train, Terry conveniently forgot;
It was Christian, she had waited for. It was him she was supposed to come to Barra with.
"I need to help him!"
He had run behind her in the narrow corridor of the carriage. To catch her before she would stop the train. Because she needed to go back to him...
No, he daren't read.
He got dressed. It was incredible to comprehend, how a small object like that had already infected his brain in such a rapid manner. Soon enough he could do not nothing else but think and think and think of what was written.
He realised he struggled to breath. He tasted bile in his mouth. Grabbed the letter from the dresser and left the bedroom. Yanked the front door of the cottage open and stood there, looking at the ocean. A storm was brewing. The air was moisture-heavy. The wind had picked up. Took a breath straight away-
as much as he could. Gulped the cool air like a man lost in the desert drank the water.
Looked at the envelope once again.
He was at loss with himself-
with Candy-
with his feelings-
with what she had confessed to him she felt.
She had declared her love to him. He had believed her.
He wanted to believe her so, so damn hard. Like a man fighting in the middle of an ocean, he tried to hold on that belief. Afraid of the doubts that grew against his will, like those clouds above him which turned heavier by the minute, looking like they were ready to touch the ground; even if he fought against them, they threatened to suffocate him.
He would drown. He shut his eyes, trying to calm down.
Behind those closed eyelids of his, the lines of that letter were also taking shape in the darkness of his mind. Torturing him.
He heard her voice, warm, worried for the man she left behind.
The one she could not forget.
My darling Christian,
I am writing to you from the isle of Barra... Remember how we were planning to come here? It is as beautiful as you had said.
Terry felt his stomach sinking. He opened his eyes. The azure waters of the sea were inside his gaze.
What could you be doing now? Where could you be? I worry.
I waited for you inside the train. I am here with Terry instead.
His fist closed round the letter. The minutes ticked away. Candy would be on her way back, any time now. He could not think straight. Could he face her? To ask her what? And more to the point, what would her reply be? His heart beat raced, being chased by that wind.
Pushed the creased envelope in his pocket, like something vile he wanted to crush and push away till it disappeared.
Really what else could this letter be? Addressed to Christian Blake and hidden in her bag...
When had she written it? Before they become a couple? After?
She had rushed to retrieve with such urgency...
You may already know Christian...
Me and Terry, we are...
He should have known it. He had felt it. He should have been happy, and yet, he sensed her mind wasn't entirely there. He thought if he became a better man and say it. He had said it
"Your mind isn't completely here. I won't share you Candy."
She hadn't denied it. She had refused to let of Christian from London even, on that damn party. She had asked him for those holidays, to give her time. Candy really hadn't hidden anything. He recalled her deflated reaction when he had shared with her his possible relocation to England. It was he who had refused to face the reality.
but I cannot stop thinking about you. I need to see you.
Your Rose always
The blood run thick inside his veins. He felt the thumbing heartbeat on his temples. He should have expected she would try to write to him. It was undeniable. She still had feelings for him.
He had to know. He had to know there and then. As much as he feared himself, his temper, the demons which arose from the darkness of his soul. He was never worthy of love. He had fought against the dark thoughts for many years. Candy had been his salvation, right from the start. Finding her now, with a lifetime passed in between, so much had changed... Candy had become Rose and nothing was the same. She had changed.
He came back in the cottage and closed the door behind him.
When Christian entered MacDonald's office down at the basement of the Blind Beggar, he did so in the company of two of Charles's men.
He was surprised; Charles seemed like he had increased the man power around him, or was it a special treatment he decided to grace Christian with? Given the instructions Christian had given to the Detective Constable earlier, to bring Charles in for questioning at the police station, while making him suspicious of the relationship between Christian and Alice... Well, whatever Robert had said on that meeting, looked like it had worked. And those men that stood by his side, who could easily crash his bones if they squeezed him tight, were there for his truly.
Courtesy of the Boss.
It had to be said. Alice had kept him preoccupied the day before. Most of the day and all of the night. She didn't leave him much time to think of his morning meeting with Charles. Nevertheless, he was there now. With or without the entourage, he had to tread with care. One of the men knocked the door. Christian heard their boss from the other side calling them in.
"Ah, the famous Raven everyone seeks of..." He said the moment Christian stepped inside the room.
He saw Charles on one of those reclining chairs. Lying there, following him with his stare, with half of his face covered with thick soap lather. The barber over him had just started with careful moves to glide the razor up his neck. Straight away, Christian knew. Robert had managed to hit a nerve with him. Part of him felt good about it, while the rest of him shuddered.
"I'm here aren't I?" Christian replied and patted his pocket for some tobacco.
"You are... but when you aren't, people are looking for you." He pulled his head up as he addressed Christian.
"Ya bastard! You cut me!" He shouted and shot a murderous glance to the barber, on whom Christian was able to notice the beads of sweat hanging on his forehead. Charles pushed him away while the poor man was trying in panic to pat the razor cut at the jawline, dry. "Gimmee the bloody razor!" He ordered him.
Turned his eyes towards Christian who stood there, while witnessing the tension between MacDonald and his barber. "Come 'ere." He said to him with a tone which didn't leave much room for negotiation. Stopped him half way into licking the rolling paper. He raised his brow.
"You want me-
shaving you... Boss?" Christian asked, having let the cigarette hanging unlit at the corner of his mouth.
"You're a fucking painter, aren't ya?" He raised his voice again. He smiled with his eyes nailed hard onto Christian. It could have been like the wolf sizing up his prey. "Since you're good at drawing pussies, I reckon you're good at holding a razor, such a multi-talented sonuvabitch that you are..."
Christian lit his cigarette. Even when MacDonald joked with him, his verbal jabs carried an edge, an ominous dark line which took a lot of effort to let it slide and not feel as rattled as his opponent was trying to make him feel. He lifted his head, glanced with the corner of his eye the barber who looked terrified. Charles's goons stood on either side of the door, their guns on plain sight, loaded and ready to use at a moment's notice. He approached Charles.
"Have you thought of doing some comedy in the Hippodrome, Charlie?" Christian asked him while he was handed the razor. He drew his lips sideways, gave him a crooked smile. Took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke up.
"Don't play smart with me, boy." He replied.
Christian turned Charlie's face sideways. "What gave you that impression?" He focused on gliding the razor firmly upwards, on his cheek. Swept the foam off the blade on the towel he had hang on his shoulder. Took another deep drag of his cigarette. Cleaned the rest of his boss's cheek. He hadn't answered back to his question.
With a steady hand he placed the razor on MacDonald's neck and slowly guided it up up towards his jaw, leaving a strip of clear red skin in its path. Saw the bulging jugular... A nick just there and then could have been enough.
"I was brought in the police station the other day."
Christian's razor stopped its course. Hovered in the air for a moment. Thin ribbons of cigarette smoke floated to the ceiling.
Did he act too surprised?
Not surprised enough?
Christian knew there and then. The shaving was just a test. Fucking Charles was testing his reactions by the way he worked the razor against his skin. Too quick to react, it would have been as if Christian already knew. Too slow - the same. With his life hanging at the edge of that razor's blade, with the most self-control he could exert on his body and his moves, he tried his best to act as he would be expected to act under the circumstances.
"Oh...?!" After the initial "surprise" from his part, finished the sweep up of Charlie's neck. Brushed the foam on the towel. Took another drag from his cigarette. Buying time... Let the smoke out.
"Coppers brought you in?" He said once he felt ready to continue. Crushed the cigarette to the nearby ashtray. Place the blade back on Charles' throat. Moved it upwards.
"It was Robert Shaw - asking for you." Charles spoke again. His voice made his Adam's apple move under the razor. Made Christian jump.
"Fuck sake, man!" Christian shouted. He pulled back and straightened his body up. There was anger inside his eyes. "You either talk or you let me shave you, all right?!"
MacDonald didn't apologise for Christian's exasperation. Instead he half smiled but his eyes remained like nails on Christian. "I trust you won't cut my throat, boy." He said.
Christian took a breath. The ordeal would be over soon. Approached the man on the chair once again. Dragged the razor down his unshaven cheek. "So Robert is looking for me... I already know Charles. Bringing you in, that's worrying though." Christian feigned concern. He rubbed the foam once again over the towel.
"You think?" Charles asked him straight away. Christian was finishing up shaving him. A couple more strokes with the razor. "Banging my girlfriend under my nose, doesn't have anything to do with it then?" He just came out with the question that burned him. His voice hardened.
Christian stopped for a second. Kept all the fury he saw shimmering inside MacDonald's pale blue eyes concentrated inside his unmovable stare. He kept a passive face, while his heart was hammering hard against his chest. "That is bullshit, Charlie, and you know it. He's just shooting in the dark, hoping to catch something." The two men stared at each other for a moment, while MacDonald's men could jump in at any moment. Christian broke the stare stand-off first. Put the razor back on MacDonald's skin. Without saying anything, he completed shaving the man.
He turned his back to MacDonald and walked towards the table. Closed the razor and put it down. MacDonald had already got up. He cleaned with one swoop the rest of the soap lather from his face with the towel and with two strides he reached Christian. The two men came face to face at breathing distance when Christian turned towards him. MacDonald leaned closer. Scrunched his nose, smelled the air close to Christian's skin. There was a glint in his eyes.
"You fucking liar, I can smell her on you."
Christian didn't move. His entire body was in alert. Ready to move and pounce and fight. He would kill him if he had too. If he wasn't dropped dead by his men first. But he waited. It was after all his plan to push him, unhinged him. He had to make a mistake, to hold on to it. Bring him down.
He smiled. A shark's smile. "Had your ugly mug buried between her legs...is that it? Ate her up on a plate, did you?" He walked in circles around him. Christian heard the guys lock the door.
"That's why you "abducted" her? You twos an item now, found some hideout to fuck your brains out while you "work" for me?"
"Who do think I am? Some sort of bozo fucking clown you can play tricks to?" His voice went up a notch. Crackled with anger. Christian knew he held himself by a thread.
"Get a grip boss. You're imagining things and it won't do you good." He said putting all his effort to keep his cool.
MacDonald stopped. His lips stretched into a smug smirk. He passed his hand over his fresh shaved cheeks, held his chin while he examined Christian, the way he kept on the defensive, even when he tried to push his buttons. He was certain of something having been going on between him and Alice and that irked the skin off his teeth. But he had a surprise to serve of his own. And he was going to enjoy seeing that toff bastard, who came in his turf every single time with the conceited air of the higher moral ground by playing Robin the fucking Hood
to feed HIS FUCKING PEOPLE!
He would see him squirm and sweat by what he was to reveal...
"That may be so, Christian... that may be so..." He said, rubbing his chin, placing carefully the words, one after the other, in such a way to achieve their maximum impact. He felt the joy rushing like an adrenaline shot inside his veins.
"One couple I am NOT imagining things, would be your precious lass with that bloke
where are they again... ?
He acted as if he was trying to remember. Placed his hands on his hipbones. Pressed his lips together, as if he was thinking hard.
"Ah! Isle of Barra?" He asked Christian. He could see his stare glazing. "That's right!
Isle of
fucking
Barra..."
"If you haven't screwed with Alice yet... your bad..."
"Them two on the other hand... they practically humped each other in broad daylight.
I get the painting now. She's a right slutty little-
Christian grabbed the razor from the table. He couldn't see, he couldn't feel nothing. Nothing apart from a blazing hot ball of rage burning bright at the centre of his being. It blinded everything else around him. Forgot where he was and who was against him. Like a bull smelling blood and let inside the bull ring, he rushed towards MacDonald. Flicked the razor open and like a boulder he fell on the man, slammed his body to the wall, the razor held at hair's distance from his neck.
He didn't pose a threat for Charles. Even when he fell on him, he knew. They weren't alone and his thugs quick to react, they already were behind. Grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him back while he wriggled against them.
Took the razor from his hands. Kept him in a locked position, rendering him unable to move.
"Boy, you're way over your head. Playing your hero games, don't cut it with me. You'll break in the Duke's mansion, get the loot and bring it over to me... do you understand?"
"You thought you'll keep me in check by holding Alice captive... I don't even fucking
CARE
Had your lass followed...
One wrong move... and their paradise will turn to hell, because of you."
Christian fought against MacDonald's men. Without success. It was to be expected. The blood run red hot and boiling inside his body, behind his eyes. Felt the pressure on his temples of his head.
"Bastard!" He shouted to Charles.
"I'll fucking kill you, if anything happens to her! I mean it!"
Felt his voice coming out with great difficulty. All the emotions weighing down inside his throat, like someone had gripped him tight, cutting his air supply.
Charles let a soft laugh. A confident laugh of someone who was always used to get his own way. With whatever means necessary. Now that Christian knew how short was his leash... like a good dog, he'd do what he was told to do.
And then...
He slapped Christian's cheek with fake affection. Grabbed his chin and forced him to face him straight in the eyes.
"Now that you know where we stand the two of us... Martin Brown, the goldsmith will be waiting for you, early morning on the morrow. His jewellery shop is at the Bleeding Heart Yard in Holborn, over in Camden town. Your girl's neighbourhood... "
Christian didn't say anything. "The guy's legit. He owes me favours... he'll come with you at the Grandchester mansion. He'll report back to me. Both of you will... ok?"
The silence spread.
His grip on Christian's jaw intensified. His eyes drilled down into the young man's.
"I expect a YES, Christian."
This simple yes cut like the razor Christian was holding a couple of minutes ago. It came forced out of him, smeared with concealed hate. The moment he said it, Charles nodded to the men. Their grip on Christian's body relaxed. He felt as if he was chained and then released.
"Now go." He ordered him. Christian didn't say anything. It wasn't the easiest of meetings. He also had learned a crucial piece of information which he wished it wouldn't have come to this. Even if he had expected it with much trepidation. Something he hoped it wouldn't be so, it had come in the end that it was true. The Wag had them followed. If he was careful, perhaps this would work to their advantage but it was a hand he didn't want to use. Not at the moment. He had to let Robert know though...
On his way out and while he opened the door to leave, he heard Charles's voice behind him. Victorious, confident. "When I need another shave, I'll call for you." He taunted him. Christian left and closed the door while the intense laughing of MacDonald kept echoing inside his head for a while after he left the Blind Beggar.
He had hoped Terry and Rose were fine and in relative safety. As long as he didn't put a foot wrong, then it would have been fine. He needed to contact Robert. Let him know and...
Perhaps he could phone whoever was in police duty at the isle of Barra. He wouldn't let bloody MacDonald get his way if it meant his own end.
She was pedalling, as fast as she could. She could stop right there in the middle of the road towards the cottage, and spit her heart out. It was banging hard against her chest wall. A frantic heartbeat, close to the limits she could manage, even for her young age of twenty-six.
This morning so far had gone from bad to worse, without even something actually having happened yet. She had arrived at Crow's Inn and the inn keeper had welcomed her with a wide smile, though he looked surprised of her early visit on a Sunday morning. Sarah Burns already had her bag, and she was going to drop it at some point at their place, the man had said.
That is when the alarm bells rang like the bells of Notre Dame inside her. She shivered.
Something hadn't sat right with her from the moment she opened her eyes that day, after the nightmare she had... Before giving in to an anxiety beyond anything she had experienced before, she tried, tried with all her logic to reason with herself. She was a nurse after all, she had studied science. She was used to use reason rather than falling into the trap of premonitions and superstitions, when she had faced a problem.
The secret she had chosen to carry for a whole week already, had turned into an iron ball and chain and was dragging her to the bottom of the ocean.
Last night, it had been so perfect...
Fate had given her a glimpse of what it could be like to share her life with Terry. To be inside his arms, to have his warmth only for her, his love only for her, his mind and body only for her.
She had to tell him. This day, that morning, when she would come in the cottage. Sweat was trickling down her temples. The little house by the beach came into view. With renewed fervour, her feet pushed hard down on the pedals.
What if Mrs Burns had already been? Had given Terry her bag... That irrational fear again.
She was determined, more than ever. Whatever it took. She would fight for Terry, fight for his love this time. She wouldn't back down. Whatever his reaction would be when he found about Christian's identity. Came off her bike and let it drop in front of the house. She burst opened the door and came in like a gust of wind.
"Terry?" She shouted while she tried to catch her breath at the same time. There was no response. The eerie silence made her shout his name once more. Adrenaline rushed inside her veins. She run towards the bedroom. She felt she could hear her heart beating behind her ear drums.
Thumb-thumb
Thumb-thumb
The bed was still unmade.
His bathrobe, there too-
Her bag...
Open.
She grabbed it at once. No letter inside.
Her eyes flooded with tears.
Thumb-thumb
No, no, no, no... This can't be.
Her face turned and her gaze travelled around the room. She searched, searched...
Searched everywhere. She left nothing unturned. Beads of sweat hang on her forehead. She run out the bedroom.
Perhaps in the living room.
She stopped on her tracks as if she had run herself against a wall.
"Terry!"
His said his name, sounding breathless.
He stood there; by the window. He was standing there all along. Had witnessed everything. Candy, bursting in the house. Her frantic searching...
"Looking for this, Miss Rose White?" He asked and pulled the wrinkled letter out his pocket.
The light drizzle outside strengthened. The sound of the rain hitting the windows became audible enough now to fill in the brief silence that followed his was supposed to be the one to give him the letter and explain how she came to it.
"Too much of a surprise for you?" He continued. His breaths became faster. Trying to catch up with his heart. This was a confrontation he never had imagined. Not after the two days they had spent together. The more he saw her surprised and utterly worried reaction, having caught her red handed with her letter to Christian, the more the flames inside him grew.
Pushed him ever more towards-
The light outside the cottage was quickly diminishing. Shadows grew inside the room.
Every time Terry spoke, he sounded colder, angrier.
"Since you don't answer, I'm assuming that you don't need it. I can rip this up, yes?"
He held the envelope between his hands, ready to-
"NO!" She shouted and rushed towards him as if her life depended on that letter.
He stopped. They looked at each other from not more than an arm's length distance and yet, they were so far apart. His figure was becoming more and more distorted from the tears which had started pooling inside her eyes.
"I wanted to tell you..."
"Really?" He asked her.
His smile spoke of his disdain. "You could have fooled me..." He added. "You should have been up on that theatre stage, Candy."
"Terry, I tried..." She struggled to find the words.
How could she explain to him that she had been as shocked finding the truth about Christian. How she hesitated to break the spell between them? The wish to experience, even it was as brief as two days, what could it be like to live feeling loved by him. To love him back, openly without anything or anyone, complicating things between them. But she deluded herself. She had tried to ignore what she knew.
His jaw tensed. Closed his eyes, not wanting to stare at her face further. Couldn't stand to see her suffering. He wanted her to love him, love him with every fibre of her body but if it had been so hard for her, impossible to not been able to give herself to him, the same way his heart had been spoken for her unconditionally for all those years; even if he had fought to tear that love from the root, he couldn't do it, whereas she...
"You tried." He repeated her words, feeling the bitterness down to his bones. "When was that Candy?" He added.
For her it seems it was all just a matter of decision. Moved to another country, changed her name, fell in love and
he had been late... once again. He couldn't stand this. He crushed the letter inside his hand. Paced in the room, like a caged animal. Dragged his fingers over his forehead and buried them inside his hair. He turned his back to her, gripped the stone of the fireplace mantle, letter still inside his left hand.
Candy looked at him. Her fear was taking shape, it was becoming alive and real. Slowly showing its teeth, sharpening its claws. Part of her already knew he was to react this way when he was to found that Christian was his twin brother. She had only hoped that declaring her love to him, while hearing him do the same, would have perhaps change the course. This meeting could have ended a different way.
But two days weren't enough to build a strong bond to withstand the weight, the knowledge that Christian, the man who became the first man she shared a bed with, shared more than that, he had pulled her from the pain of her past, she had owed him so much, was the twin brother of Terry.
"What a fucking fool I've been." He whispered.
"What a fucking fool you've been? Please Terry, do not ruin what we have-" Candy reacted to Terry's words.
A sharp light flashed outside the windows. The rain intensified. Hit with strength the windows and the roof.
"Do not ruin..." Terry repeated her last words, as if talking to himself. He shook his head in disbelief.
The crashing sound of the thunder hit them.
"Do NOT ruin!"
The disbelief was turning into anger. He turned to see her.
"Well this my dear," He shook his fist in the air with the letter inside it, "ruined fucking everything so don't tell me-" He threw the crumbled paper on the table. Paced across the fireplace. Stopped and hit her with his stare on fire.
"ME as being the one responsible" He hit his chest with his hand open.
of ruining what exactly?
That I stripped my heart naked to you?
That I longed for you,
I dreamt of you,
I stood by and watched you paraded naked by him like some cheap thrill
when all those years I held you like something sacred to adore and admire,
not even believing I would touch you, even kiss you,
let alone be together like a man and a woman can, and even now,
he's between us in this damned letter!
And you accuse me of ruining-"
Terry's pain flowed unstoppable like the streams of rain water, flowing back into the sea through the green valleys and the beach rocks of Barra. The wind picked up, the shrubs swayed under its strength.
He felt betrayed, hurt down to the marrow of his bones. His trust to the woman he had in front of him, had been shattered in the most spectacular, painful ways. Finding a letter of hers to her ex-lover. If he was ex... he even doubted that.
"Why don't you ask your bloody lover-
or better still
ask yourself Candy, who is the one who ruined us- if there is an "us" that is- I don't seem I was enough for you!
"What?" Candy raised her voice. "You're so wrong, so wrong...Terry." She shook her head but never avoiding his eyes.
He pressed his lips. Tears brimming of anger filled his eyes. He approached her. Stopped right in front of her. The tempest raging inside his gaze. "I'm wrong, am I? Send him that fucking letter, Candy! Go on!"
She felt losing the floor beneath her feet. She brought her hand over her mouth. The sudden realisation-
"You haven't read that letter..."
so sudden like the flash of light that illuminated the inside of the cabin.
"Tell him how much you love him! How much you miss him! How much you miss getting fu-"
She brought her hand up, slapped him hard across the face before he had the time to finish his insults.
A second thunder ripped the sky apart. His words stopped unfinished, lingered in the air. Shards of ice that cut your chest inside, when you inhaled them. Candy bolted out, left him standing.
Opened the door and stormed out. The pouring rain washed the streams of tears she let to flow free down her burning cheeks. The sea bore a menacing darkness. Restless, dangerous waters filled with white high peaks that could swallow you whole if you tried to tame them.
Terry hadn't read the letter.
Instead he had believed a reality he had made inside his head. She run on the beach, feeling the wet sand under her bare feet, her clothes quickly turning drenched with rain. Run while sobs, like those waves, came from deep inside her chest and up her throat. She fought not to fall down, beneath a sky full of lead, crackling with lighting sparks, as if it was getting ready to explode.
All the love she had shown to Terry... everything she had said to him measured to nothing. He hadn't even believed her. He hadn't even read the letter. Ten years was way to much to bridge between them, when he never believed the strength of her feelings for him.
Terry run behind her. He wasn't going to let her flee away from him this time, despite the slap he got. He wanted an answer, a final answer. Who was the man for her. He couldn't just stand idle, waiting...
hoping
wishing.
He reached her. Streams of waters dripped down his hair, his face. His clothes stuck on his skin. He grabbed her arm and stopped from running. Yanked her back and her body turned towards him. Her green eyes were blazing.
"Tell me" He shouted within the storm. "I won't let you go this time, till you say it, damn it!"
He grabbed her shoulders. Shook her while she kept silent, even if nothing was silent behind her eyes.
"You love him..."
The rain hit both of them without mercy.
"You haven't read the letter, Terry..." She said, wanting give an end to this.
"What is there to read, Candy? That you can't give Christian up? You prefer him over me, is that it?"
Candy knew that after she revealed what she had to say, what she wanted to say for a week now and couldn't for the life of her, because she feared it would have been the end of her and Terry... things weren't going to be the same ever again. But seeing how misunderstood she was, how that letter had exposed the belief of Terry had on her feelings for him
how fragile that was, not even skin deep...
After what felt like an eternity of silence;
"Tell me Candy!" He shouted once more. Her hands squeezed her shoulders tighter.
"He's your twin brother Terry! That's what this letter is about." She shouted the truth with one breath.
It struck Terry like those storm lightnings that fell on the isle of Barra. His face turned white like the bedsheets and then, his limbs turned heavy, as if the truth bore a weight he had no strength to lift.
"What? What are you talking about?" He sounded perplexed, out of breath. This was beyond absurd.
"Christian is your brother, Terry." Candy repeated herself, while soaked to the bone under the rain. His grip disappeared and he let his arms fall down, like the arms of a puppet left alone by its master.
"Please, go back and read the letter, Terry." She asked him.
He didn't say anything back. There wasn't anything to be said. What Candy had revealed, had robbed him of everything that could be said. Instead, he turned back, looked at the cottage in the near distance. Its door was still open.
Candy was left behind. On the beach, standing under the intense rain, watching Terry returning back, with each step of his, getting nearer the time when he would find out all the truth that was hidden from both him and Christian since the time they were born.