All right, I have one really important question that needs to be answered,” Eli tells me seriously, pushing himself up on one elbow on the blanket next to me.
Following our night together at his house two weeks ago when I showed him his dog tags, we’ve spent as much time together as possible, knowing that everything will change as soon as I figure out how to stand up to my mother.
After spending all of our time with each other in the tack room and then not changing it up much by locking ourselves in Eli’s bedroom for a few days, we finally managed to get out of bed so Eli could give me a tour of his new house and actually do something normal for a change, with our clothes on. I’ve had a hundred different opportunities to tell him about the things my mother threatened me with over the years to keep Eli protected, but each time I open my mouth to give him the last of my secrets, he laughs or he smiles and I stop myself. I’m not ready to watch the happiness leave his face and I’m not ready to be the one to bring more pain and guilt into his life. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I feel horrible that I’m keeping such a big secret from the man I love, but I just want to enjoy these peaceful moments with him and pretend like the rest of the world doesn’t exist, is that too much to ask after all we’ve been through? Does he really need to know about the sacrifices I made to keep him safe? All it will do is pile up guilt onto his already heavy shoulders and I don’t want to do that to him. I don’t want to be the one to bring him any more pain after what he’s gone through.
When we woke up this morning, Eli packed us a lunch, grabbed a blanket from his hall closet, and drove us out to the plantation, pulling up to the stables and giving me a wink when I asked him what we were doing. As soon as we got inside the barn, we found Paul standing beside two horses all saddled up and ready for a ride—Ariel, and Belle’s foal, Tiana. I’d broken the news to Eli a few days ago that his favorite horse, Belle, had died giving birth to Tiana. He was sad that he didn’t get to say good-bye to his favorite mare, but more than happy to shower Tiana with the same love and attention he did her mother.
Eli helped me up onto Ariel before getting into the saddle of Tiana, and we rode out side by side into the back acres of the property until we were as far away from the stables as possible while still being on Eubanks land. We tied up the horses to a tree, spread out the blanket in the grass, and curled up next to each other just like we used to do that summer long ago. We talked about everything and we talked about nothing and it was perfect. I knew we were living in the past, trying to re-create a moment in time that was long gone, but I didn’t care. It felt good and it felt right lying here next to him under the shade of a big oak tree. It was like we were getting to know each other and falling in love all over again, just like we did six years ago.
“Go ahead, ask your important question,” I tell him, turning on my side to face him.
“I have to know. After all this time, you have to tell me…” He speaks softly, dragging out his question. “How in the hell do you always smell like peaches?”
It definitely isn’t the question I thought he would ask, figuring he knew it was time to come back down to reality and talk about something serious, but his silly question makes me throw my head back and laugh.
“Why are you laughing? This is a serious question that has plagued me for years. You bathe in the juice of fresh peaches every night, don’t you?” he asks, just making me laugh harder when he dips his head down to my neck, runs his nose along my throat, and takes a deep breath.
Knowing this “getting to know each other again” moment will be cut short if he continues breathing against my neck and sliding his lips across my skin, I press my hands to his chest and gently push him away.
“I use peach-scented body wash, shampoo, and lotion,” I tell him, laughing again as his face falls when he finds out I don’t take baths in peach juice like he imagined. “My dad used to give me that stuff every year for my birthday, and after he died, I kept buying it because it reminded me of him.”
Eli presses a kiss to my forehead and holds his lips there comfortingly for a few seconds, still knowing after all this time that memories of my father are like a double-edged sword. I love talking about him and remembering him, but at the same time, thoughts of the only parent I had who actually loved me unconditionally make me sad and wish he were still here with me.
“Well, I’ll always be grateful to that man for giving you something that smells so delicious and kept me going for five years when I would dream about that damn smell,” he tells me, smiling to lighten his words.
Even though our “normal” outings of horseback riding, driving a few towns over to go to dinner and catch a movie, and the other handful of things we’ve done the last few weeks have included a lot of talking, Eli has never once spoken about what he went through with anything other than nonchalance or downplaying the little pieces he let slip. Each time he does it, I worry and I fear for the things that still haunt him, wondering if he’s holding himself back or he’s afraid to go into detail because it will upset me. I don’t need him to tell me everything, but I need him to know I’m here for him, whenever he needs me or whenever he’s ready to open up more.
“Are you doing okay? You haven’t said much about your appointment with the therapist the other day,” I say gently, trying my best not to push him, but still needing him to know he can talk to me about anything.
“I’m fine, and there’s not much to say,” he tells me with an easy smile and a shrug, sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me closer to him on the blanket. “It’s pretty much the same thing every week, like I told you. He asks me about the nightmares and I tell him you take them all away and remind him that spending an hour with him when I could be with you is a waste of time and a detriment to my recovery.”
Just like always, he brushes off my concern and makes a joke. I try not to let it bother me that Eli never wants to confide in me about what he went through and I remind myself that I have no experience with this kind of thing and have no idea if his behavior is normal or not. He seems fine, he seems happy, and he doesn’t act like what happened to him still plagues him. I don’t want to keep bringing it up and pushing it to the forefront of his mind when he’s doing so well and he’s figured out how to move on and let go.
“You know you can always talk to me, right? About anything?” I remind him, just like I’ve done every time I’ve tried to get him to talk recently.
With his elbow still holding him up on his side, he rests his cheek on his hand and smiles at me.
“I know. Don’t worry about me, okay? Everything is fine as long as you’re here with me.”
His words should make me happy, knowing I’m the reason he’s fine, but they don’t. For the first time, lying here next to him with the warm Southern air floating over us and the sun shining bright in the sky above us, his words fill me with fear and dread. About what he isn’t saying and about what will happen when it all becomes too much for him and he can’t keep it bottled up inside any longer. It’s the same apprehension that has kept me from telling him about the threats my mother held over my head and the tattoo on the inside of my wrist, hidden under the watchband or my fears about what will happen when Landry comes home.
Eli pushes himself up from the blanket and starts spreading out the lunch items he packed for us, changing the subject to tell me about his niece and the funny things she says now that she’s learned how to speak in complete sentences. Just like always, his easy smile and the sweet sound of his laughter distract me from my worries. I refuse to ruin our time together worrying about what Landry and my mother will do when I can no longer keep mine and Eli’s relationship in the safe little bubble we’ve been in the last few weeks.
Staring at the dimples in his cheeks and listening to the happiness in his voice, I run my thumb over my watchband, realizing some secrets are better left buried. Some truths aren’t worth the pain they’ll bring and I will do anything I can to make sure Eli never has to feel one minute of pain again because of me.
As we sit side by side on the blanket and enjoy our lunch and easy conversation, I can only hope that when the time comes for Eli to tell me about his years in captivity, I’ll know what to do and I’ll be able to give him the strength that he selflessly hands over to me, every day I’m with him.