CHAPTER FOUR
Elizabeth clutched Madeline’s hand, looking at the tiny fingers entwined in hers, held with such open trust even though they’d only just met. The resilience of children amazed her. Emotions unmasked, uncomplicated. She’d saved her from drowning, therefore Elizabeth was someone to be trusted. The knowledge made her feel a little breathless.
Elizabeth couldn’t remember if she’d ever been as trusting as Madeline. She must have been at one stage. Long ago. But that was before she’d learned it was better to distrust before trusting.
“Please, Liz’beth.”
Elizabeth smiled at the child. “Of course. How can I refuse such a request?”
The truth was, she couldn’t. She loved children. She was always drawn to them, she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because she knew she’d never have any of her own that made them unobtainable and even more special. To have a child reach for her hand and ask such a small thing of her was like the sun’s rays shining in her heart.
“You don’t have to,” James murmured to her.
She shrugged. “No biggie. I’ll come.” James frowned a little, studying her. She had the impression he was surprised she wanted to. She smiled up at him. “It would be my pleasure.” It was the simple truth.
James’s eyes roamed her face. After a pause, he nodded. “Thank you.”
She wondered what he had to be thankful for. This was a treat for her. She’d be a substitute aunt for a few moments and live out the fantasy. She trailed after James up the stairs. He carried Madeline with such ease, his arms wrapped around his child, a caring, protective father. He put Madeline into her bed, covering her up to her chin with the fluffy doona. James spoke to her in hushed tones, a murmur in the quiet of the room.
Elizabeth hovered at the door, not wanting to disturb the peace or connection between the two of them, feeling like the outsider she really was. She glanced around the bedroom. It truly was the room of a little girl princess. Everything was various shades of pink. Pink curtains, a pink feature wall, the rug on the floor, the doona cover, lamp shade, a row of fairies whose crowns lit up with bright pink lights and a transparent canopy trimmed with pink sequins over the bed. A guitar stood in the corner of the room. There was a bookshelf covered in various teddy bears, ornaments and scattered books. A white chest of drawers matched her bed in shiny white shellac and was covered with ballerinas. Above the bedhead was a photo of a baby held in the arms of a very beautiful woman, beaming happily into the lens.
The photo held Elizabeth’s attention. There was something familiar about the woman. It was the golden hair and shape of her eyes. They were mirrored in Madeline. This must be Madeline’s mother. Elizabeth’s throat closed over at the thought of a motherless baby. Again, she wondered where the mother actually was. It seemed a bit strange to have such a huge photo of an ex-wife hanging in his daughter's room, but then again, James was a doting father. Maybe he did it for Madeline’s sake. That told volumes about the quality of the man.
James ruffled Madeline’s hair and stood. Elizabeth stepped hesitantly into the room. “Goodnight, Madeline,” she whispered, bending to kiss the child on her forehead. She savoured the moment before moving into the hallway.
James closed the door behind him. Madeline screamed, and James charged back into the room.
“I’m scared!” Madeline started to sob.
James cursed quietly, hugging his daughter. Elizabeth’s heart pounded at the terror in her scream. Of course the little girl would still traumatised from today. James tried to calm the child, holding her, rocking her and shushing her, but Madeline continued to sob.
A tide of helplessness washed through her. If she could try and take the child’s mind off the incident, she might be tired enough to fall asleep. Elizabeth spotted the guitar.
She bit her lip, wondering if she should play to take the child’s mind off the drama. A louder sob made up her mind. She took the guitar and sat on the end of the bed. As she quickly tuned it, Madeline’s sobs became quiet until the child blinked at her through red eyes. She sniffed, offering little hiccups but no longer crying as she watched Elizabeth.
“Would you like me to sing a song to you?” Elizabeth asked.
Madeline nodded. “Can you play Hot Potato?”
“I don’t know any Wiggles songs, honey.” Elizabeth strummed the guitar, feeling the notes slide through her, a melody unravelling. It seemed to calm the child down, so she continued to strum.
“What can you play?” Madeline asked.
She worried her bottom lip. A list of songs not really suited for children’s ears went through her head. Maybe if she slowed down a song, she could make it sound like a lullaby — of sorts.
“Let’s try this one,” she said.
As she played, the melody wove through her body. Soon, all she thought about were the notes and complementing it with her voice. Her fingers found the right chords, strumming the rhythm without thought. She didn’t know how she could play, but it came to her as naturally as talking. As though she spoke through the instrument. Music had become her safe haven when she was a girl, and it still had the same power. If she was feeling low, she could just sing. It always had the power to take her away from the darkness of life.
The song ended, and she came back to Earth. Madeline was asleep, eyes closed and breathing deeply. Elizabeth fell into James’s piercing gaze. Her heart skipped a beat. Her cheeks flushed. Self-consciously, she placed the guitar back in its bracket.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to touch it if you didn’t want me to.”
James indicated the door, and they both crept quietly from the room. The door shut, and she turned to find James behind her. He seemed to tower over her altogether too close. A spicy, masculine scent enveloped her, whisking her away to a place she didn’t want to be. She gulped and stepped back, not really breathing any easier.
“Again. I’m sorry…”
“You play well. I didn’t think you could make a lullaby from an Eminem song.” His gaze pierced her, breaking through her walls as though they didn’t exist. No one did that.
She cleared her throat. “I improvised. I… I like playing. If I get a chance. I… hope it was all right.”
She licked suddenly dry lips. His eyes flickered to her mouth and travelled slowly back to her eyes. The tight expression he wore slipped a little. He looked tired. Bone-weary, as though holding up the weight of the world had become that little but too much. Her heart tumbled, and she mentally made it stop.
“I’d forgotten how nice it is to hear music.”
Elizabeth waited for him to explain, but he remained silent. She guessed now would be the best time to take her leave as she’d planned. She’d had the shower, eaten a meal, and now she needed to find a place to stay for the night. She tucked her hands into her back pockets and rocked onto her toes. Now that it was definitely time for her to leave, she knew she had to, she was surprisingly reluctant. James was… nice. Actually, more than nice if she was totally honest. Unlike any man she’d come across. She found she enjoyed talking to him, which was highly unusual.
“You’re very good with Madeline.”
“She’s a lovely little girl.” She meant it. Madeline had made an indelible dent on her heart in such a short time.
“She likes you very much. She’s usually not that friendly with other people. Other… women.”
“I’m glad I was in the right place at the right time.” She really didn’t know what to say after that.
“Elizabeth, I want to thank you…”
James reached a hand towards her. In an instant, it was as though other arms reached for her. Arms with the intent to hurt and control. The world dissolved, and she went to the dark place David Logan had introduced her to. She nearly choked with the impact of it.
“I have to go.”
This was the wake-up call she needed. A reprieve was all this was. A glimpse of a fantasy. The dose of reality that reinforced the fact that fairy tales were just fiction. She mentally cursed the wine she’d drunk for making her too relaxed and not keeping her mind on what she should be doing. She needed more kilometres between herself and the Wanderer’s Homestead and what she’d left there.
“Don’t go.”
Elizabeth stilled, heat traveling through her body, making her skin sticky with a film of perspiration. Maybe she’d gotten it all wrong. Maybe James was a man who expected payment for a meal, a glass of wine and a shower in that age-old way men did for such things. She hadn’t had him pegged as such, but she’d learned through David a veneer was only skin deep. Even though she’d been through this many, many times, it always made her feel nauseated.
First she’d try and talk him out of it, then if he got physical, she’d turn and run. Her eyes slipped to the door at the bottom of the stairs. That way. Not bother with her backpack. Getting away was always better than having clothes on your back any day. She waited, her eyes held to his face. Reading him. Waiting. Her heart beat.
Pump. Pump. Pump.
Then her heart tumbled painfully when he said, “I would like you to stay.”