Chapter 63

After several moments, I sighed to myself and felt increasingly impatient. It was quite evident that Phelan was in such desperate need of an audience that he forced me to wait for his company, a ploy I detested. I would be damned if he thought I would stand there for the next hour like a fool. To hell with him. I started to turn away when the door was thrust open and Phelan appeared with the bird no longer on his shoulder.

"Leaving so soon, Kire?" he asked as he looked me up and down.

I eyed him briefly. "I have no desire to stand here and wait."

"Ah yes," he said as he stepped to the side and waited for me to enter. "A full sixty seconds of your precious time."

I entered into the back for no other reason than I did not want to argue with him in front of a room full of strangers. The moment I stepped through the threshold, Phelan shut and locked the door.

The room in which we stood was sparsely decorated and most likely used for both storage and office use as there was a small desk pushed close to the wall behind the sizable wooden perch where his bird preened her feathers.

Empty canvases leaned against the wall along with a wooden crate filled with partially used paints, stained brushes, and rags. The exit door leading into the alley was propped open, allowing natural light that brightened the undecorated white walls. I assumed it was left open to keep the smell of turpentine from overwhelming the small space.

The bird squawked from the far right corner where it stretched out colorful wings and inched along its wooden perch. The noise it made startled me as with limited knowledge of birds, I had no idea whether the vocalizations and beating of its wings was meant as a threat. Either way, I was thankful for the thin silver chain on its right leg keeping it confined to the stand.

"I must say, I did not expect you to attend," Phelan said.

"I did not wish to disappoint the gallery owner or your broker," I answered as I continued to observe the bird.

To that Phelan grunted and gave an appreciative nod. "Make yourself comfortable, Kire," he said as he gestured toward two mismatched chairs near a small, round table with a nearly empty clear glass carafe of what appeared to be water.

I stood at a distance and regarded my brother in silence as he turned away from me and fed the bird slices of sweet potato. The parrot took each piece gently and stepped back and forth on her perch as she awaited the next morsel, which reminded me of Bessie dancing back and forth as she begged for my supper.

"Why so silent, Kire?" Phelan asked.

My brother's tone was considerably more pleasant as he interacted with his bird. I looked from him to the two mismatched chairs and considered taking a seat, however, I wasn't sure if Phelan intended to accompany me or stay closer to his pet.

"You were never this quiet," he commented.

I narrowed my eyes. "Pardon me?"

"When you were a baby." He turned his head, but didn't look over his shoulder and meet my eye. "You incessantly babbled on and on from the moment you learned how to speak. Before then, when you had not mastered the art of spoken language, you simply made up your own musical tone to entertain yourself."

I grunted at his words.

"You don't remember this, do you?"

"No," I answered plainly. Quite frankly I found his words incredulous as I had been shunned by nearly every person I had encountered and had little use for conversation. I also doubted his ability to recall what I had been like as an infant and toddler after thirty-eight years apart.

"You would wake before sunrise and climb out of your bed and into mine. It did not matter if it was the middle of winter or a stifling hot summer, you were always curled up against me. I would be on the very edge of the bed, almost ready to topple off, and you still managed to press yourself to me. Knees against my spine, of course, and your arm draped over my shoulder as you sang pure nonsense. You were insatiable with your need for closeness and desire to create music."

The thought made me smile inwardly. Alex had always been that way the first few years of his life. Madeline insisted it was my insistence to spoil him, but my son craved intimacy with not only me, but with Meg, who indulged him with kisses and expressed her love for him quite freely. He babbled constantly as well, and there had been many evenings when I composed with Alex on my lap, banging his toys against my desk and my arm as I struggled to write around a boy who wanted to sit with me and play at the same time.

"Everywhere I went, you were there at my heels. A thousand times a day you would call my name despite me sitting directly beside you. 'Lan, Lan, Lan, look at this, Lan, look at my drum, Lan, do you see it? Lan, you are not looking.' You would pull on my sleeve and put your face nearly to mine if I ignored you."

"I called you Lan?" I questioned.

"Always," Phelan said with his back to me. "Out of all the words you mastered, my name was not one of them."

Still I had no recollection of our previous lives together, which frustrated me. Perhaps I had been too young to recall anything from our shared past, or perhaps as a means of self-preservation I had forgotten what it was like to live with someone who had cared for me.

"One day you asked me a dozen times in a matter of minutes if I would take you down to the water to gather rocks and shells and listen to the waves," he continued. "It was dusk, and Alak forbid us to leave the house after dark, but you said it was not dark yet. I was on the floor drawing and you jumped on my back. The pencil ripped the paper, and I was furious with you."

I envisioned him belly-down on the dirt floor and myself attempting to garner his attention.

"I told you to go outside and I would be there in a moment. You ran out of the house, satisfied that you had gotten your way, and I smoothed out the paper as best I could. Alak had given me three sheets of paper for my birthday and I had been careful to use them sparingly. I wanted to salvage the torn sheet since it was my last one, but the hole was in the middle and the drawing I worked on was ruined.

"It was not until Alak and Valgard returned home that I realized it was dark out. Alak asked where you were, and I said you were in our room playing. He went into our room and came out a moment later and said you were missing."

For a long moment Phelan stopped speaking and I stood across the room from him in silence. My heart hammered with dread as I waited for him to continue speaking.

"A week passed, then it was a month," Phelan said suddenly. "Alak spent day and night searching for you all around the house and into town. Repeatedly he asked me if I knew where you could have gone, and at last I was far too frightened to lie to him. Too many days had passed since you disappeared, so I explained what happened and that I told you to wait outside and I would take you down to the water before dark. Very calmly he nodded and we walked down to the beach. It seemed so much further than I recalled and I could not imagine you making it there alone. I wondered if you had drowned or gotten lost and hid somewhere. I prayed you had found a place to keep warm and waited for me, but a month missing and I did not have much hope."

My breath hitched. Alex had learned how to unlock and open doors as a toddler and had let himself out a time or two. Meg had found him in the garden once, half-naked and teeth chattering. Despite the number of adults in the house, he still managed to slip past us. I would not have forgiven myself if something had happened to him.

"Every day we went to the same spot on the beach in search of you. Every day we returned empty-handed until one time when it was scorching hot. I remember being so thirsty and the flies biting me the entire journey. Weeks had passed and I was certain we would never find you, but suddenly Alak froze dead in his tracks and put his arm out to stop me. We were standing in the middle of the tall grass four hundred meters from the water when he appeared with you at his side."

"Our father," I said automatically.

Phelan glanced over his shoulder at me and nodded once. "I didn't recognize him immediately, nor did I see you at first as the grass was too tall, but once Alak took off running, I followed him and saw you. I started to call your name, but Alak told me to stay put and said he would handle the situation.

"They spoke for several moments, and all the while I willed you to look at me, but you stared at the ground. You had never been one to stand still or silent for long, but you made no attempt to free yourself and did not look at Alak. I stepped closer while Alak and Bjorn argued, and for a brief moment you dared to look at me and I saw your eyes were blackened."

I shivered at his words."It was blindingly bright and windy," I said. "And the waves were crashing down on the shore and the rocks so loudly that I couldn't hear the gulls."

Some part of me recalled this moment Phelan described, a day that had become distorted by time and nightmares. All of my life I had assumed that this day was simply part of a dream and not reality, but now I realized it had happened. I looked to my brother for confirmation, but he did not look in my direction.

"It was hot," Phelan said. "There was sand in my eyes."

"The wind made it difficult to keep the sand out my eyes. I remember it hurt to blink."

Phelan gave a barely noticeable nod. "Your eyes were nearly swollen shut."

"My arm had gone numb from being wrenched over my head and my toes barely touched the sand, but I did not say a word. I remember thinking if I did not protest or cry, perhaps he would release me, but he held on tighter. His hands and fingernails were filthy and covered in cuts and scratches-and he smelled terrible."

It was the smell that always made my stomach turn. The stench of alcohol seeping from his pores and clinging to his beard and clothing. The stronger the smell, the more heavy-handed he would be with me.

"Bjorn told Alak that you approached him. Is that true?"

"I don't know," I answered.

"You don't know," Phelan echoed with an edge to his voice. I didn't know if he was frustrated with me or with our father. I suspected it was a bit of both.

"He had caught me so many times sneaking out of the cellar that I have no recollection of one specific moment."

"He confined you to the cellar frequently?"

"Exclusively," I amended.

Phelan's dark eyes glinted with rage, but he made no further comment. The malcontent in his eyes resembled our father so greatly that I looked away.

"Each time I picked the lock or unscrewed the barred windows and escaped, I sought food first and then in the warmer months, when the music stopped late at night, I wandered toward the water."

The roar of the waves was louder than the cruel words my father spoke, so loud I could not hear my own thoughts. The ocean drowned out the fear and endless frustration I felt inside. I watched the water relentlessly beat against the rocks jutting out in the distance and marveled at the stone's ability to withstand the constant crash of waves without ever breaking. Often I hurtled small stones across the waves, watching as they skipped along and then sank into the water. How fortunate it seemed to be able to sink away unnoticed.

"I had been desperately lonely as a child," I said quietly. "Repeatedly he told me I was not wanted, that no one would ever want something like me and I should have been grateful that he allowed me a space within his home. Despite my inadequacies, I still I searched each night I managed to get out. I did not know what I was looking for, but now I think perhaps I was waiting for you."

At last Phelan turned and stared at me. His gaze was remorseful and distant. "I went to the water as well, as often as I could," he said softly. His voice was barely above a whisper. "Perhaps not often enough."

I wondered what would have happened if we had found each other as children, how different our paths would have been, the lives we could have led. If we had been as close as he claimed, I had no doubt we would have grown up alongside one another, my brother painting while I composed. Something deep inside of me ached for a life that we had been denied.

"Alak never told me what Bjorn said to him or why you did not come home with us that day. We returned home in silence, and when I asked when I would see you again, he struck me across the face and I fell back with such force I swore my teeth rattled. Before I could say a word, he was kneeling over me, hand raised. He struck me several more times, asked if this was what I wanted, and stormed inside. He locked the door. It was hours before Valgarde let me back inside." Phelan pause and offered a dark, humorless laugh. "Eventually Alak offered an apology, but it didn't much matter. I kept my distance until Val and I moved here."

Our uncle had rarely directed his anger toward me, but I had seen him use his cane as a weapon and knew he was quite capable of using force. I shuddered at the thought of my beloved uncle punishing my brother for a mistake while at the same time knowing damned well if anything had happened to Alex while he was in Meg or Madeline's care there would have been hell to pay.

"How old were you when you moved here?" I asked in an attempt to change the subject.

Phelan did not readily answer. He kept his attention focused on the bird, who had started to vocalize in a manner that made my skin prickle.

"Thirteen," Phelan said once the bird settled. "At an age when I no longer listened to Alak. It didn't much matter as he had pushed me away for years." Phelan shrugged. "And I of course had no qualms about pushing back."

"I never saw that side of him," I replied. "If I had-"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes. Of course it matters."

"Why?" he challenged. The edge to his voice returned, his eyes hardened and unyielding. "If you had known of our differences, would you have stayed with Bjorn instead of leaving with Alak?"

"No," I blurted out.

"You are certain?"

My hands balled into fists as I felt the shift in our conversation. "I have no idea," I answered honestly. A thousand times I had asked myself whether I would have traveled with my uncle if I had known how sick he had been at the time. I was grateful to him for freeing him from my father's home, but miserable where he had unintentionally left me. If given the chance, I would have gladly returned to my parents' home rather than spend a single night with the gypsies. "What should I have done?"

Phelan shrugged. "You should have gotten the hell out of the cellar and never looked back."

"That was easier said than done," I murmured. "I did not know the name of the village in which I lived or what the nearest town was called. I had no skills to earn my keep and knew I was at a disadvantage based purely on my appearance. Do you know what alternative our father offered?"

Phelan arched a brow.

"An asylum. I did not know the meaning of the word and yet I sensed it was a much worse alternative than remaining in the cellar."

Phelan unhooked the bird's tether from the stand and fed her the last of the sweet potato before she scaled up his outstretched arm to his shoulder. He took a deep breath and relaxed his shoulders. "Conforeit," he said at last, meeting my eye. The apathy in his gaze had subsided once more.

I blinked at him. "I beg your pardon?"

"The name of the village. It is Conforeit. Filthy, abhorrent, miserably hot in the summer and unbearably cold in the winter Conforeit. An abomination on God's green earth."

At last the name of my first circle of hell. Although I had no desire to revisit the village, at least I would be able to locate the place of my birth on a map. Somehow, despite how miserable I had been there as a child, I found this knew knowledge comforting.

"Elvira may-" Phelan started to say, but before he finished his words, the bird flapped its wings and arced across the room, swooping onto the back of the chair across from me with awe-inspiring grace. She preened her feathers and ignored me as I sat perfectly still and observed her.

"As I was saying, she might fly to my chair. No need to be alarmed."

"Excellent warning," I commented.

Phelan grunted and offered his first genuine smile of the night. "My apologies, although I can already tell she like you." He said as he seated himself across from me. The bird stepped down onto his shoulder once more and offered her right leg for her master to clip to the chain beneath his overcoat.

"How can you tell?"

My brother offered a grim smile as he stroked the bird's head. "You still have all of your fingers."