13. Voice
Fifteen years ago, Benjamin Barker's voice had brimmed with joy and love. It had always been soft and gentle, like a summer's sea breeze, bringing goosebumps to Nellie's flesh as she listened, enraptured, to the way his voice tasted the words. It didn't matter if he was talking about his darling Lucy and Johanna; she could tune out his sentences, focus on the texture of his voice. She could fill in the blanks herself with her most secret fantasies. Of his whispered confessions of love, breathy promises of whisking her away to the sea.
Those fantasies died in the moment he was taken away, but the memory of his voice lingered like an apparition.
She fancies there is something familiar about the dark profile in front of her, but brushes it off as she chatters aimlessly to him about her pies. After all, it isn't the first time she's lost herself, imagining another man in front of her.
But when he opens his mouth to speak, all doubt is eradicated. His voice is low and raspy, as though he's forgotten the art of speech, cold as the grave. It is devoid of all emotion save for an icy, forced calm.
It's not the same but her heart quickens nonetheless, cursed to react this way to only one person.
She'd know that voice anywhere. Benjamin Barker is back in her life.