A Coward's Escape
Part Two: A Rock on the Cliff
The ocean swallows my regret, and soaks my grey dress into cold, unfeeling darkness. Leaning back on my heels in water that just barely strokes my skin with its incoming roll, I cup my hands in front of me and lift the escaping liquid to my lips, washing away the sting of bile with the salt.
“You said yes,” a voice predicts from behind me, and it is not the one I expect to hear.
“Do I have a choice?” I ask the sunset.
The voice responds beside my ear. “No, there is no choice. But I am very proud of you for making it.”
“Would he be, Quillan? Could he ever find it in his heart to forgive me?” More regret boils up, in the form of tears that press behind my eyes, the pressure building until it shatters and the dam floods over.
Quillan sits on the rocks beside me. “I forget how paralyzing this view is.” He sighs and put his arm around my shoulders, and the warmth seeps deep into my flesh, stopping just short of thawing the marrow in my bones. “And to answer your question, yes, he would be able to forgive you if he knew you were happy.”
I can no longer stand the sight of the water, the traitorous, heartbreaking thunder of the ocean, and my sobs hurt my chest. Quillan pulls me to my feet and buries my face in his shoulder.
“I wish it was me who had your hand, Muirghein.”
“I know.” But it is no more his choice to make than it is mine, and we are both powerless in all aspects of what has happened and what is yet to come.
“And I wish I had your heart,” he whispers in my ear. “For you know you have mine.”
The way they always have, his words crush my heart and squeeze my stomach into knots. It seems that he always finds the exact thing I need to hear, and the one that would burn the shattered remnants of my heart at the same time.
“Quillan, had we only met sooner…” I say, wondering as I do if it is the truth.
He hushes me with a soft hiss against my skin, and it wraps a shiver around my spine. “You mustn’t say that.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “He would only be happy to know he was first.”
I make a weak motion to pull away, my heart reluctant, hoping that we will be seen, and my head demanding, knowing that to be seen with him like this would mean unparalleled disaster. But Quillan will not allow me to leave.
“Just let me hold you a little longer. I’ll never be allowed to do this again.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and place my cheek back against his chest, breathing in the scent of soap, and of the ocean that already clings to his clothes. There is no more need for words, and we stand in silence, listening to the soft rush of the waves while I try to stem my tears.
***
When we finally return to the house, arm-in-arm, Quillan opens the door and leads me through to the sitting room.
“I found her,” he says unnecessarily.
“Finally!” Cillian cries, leaping to his feet. “Where have you been? You look freezing; come here.”
My hand constricts around Quillan’s arm for a moment before I let go and walk over to my new fiancé, who immediately removes his coat and places it over my shoulders. “Go change, my dear, before you catch cold.”
Aisling steps forward to take me upstairs, away from the suffocating Doyles, with their disapproving faces and heartless eyes.
“You have a pet name already,” she whispers as we ascend to my room, and I cannot help but to laugh, although it hurts my throat.
“Where did you disappear to?” she demands when we are alone in my bedroom.
“Down by the water.”
“Why did it take so long to find you?”
“It didn’t.”
Aisling’s mistrusting gaze hurts more than anything I have said today, or any decision I have made. “Muirghein, what have you done?” she whispers.
“Nothing! It’s not like that!” I protest, sobbing suddenly, though I am not sure why it matters that she believe me.
“Aillén, you cannot do this again!” she cries.
What is left of my veneer shatters with her accusation. She is right, and wrong, and it claws painfully at my skin, trying to get through to what remains of my heart. My legs give way beneath me and I fall to the ground.
***
The night was dark, cloaking the lone figure that sat upon the rocks.
A summer breeze whistled its way through the crevasses along the cliffs, and wrapped its warmth around the woman by the ocean.
He approached from behind her, creeping on his toes up the rock until he stood over her, creating a perfect tableau in the light of the moon and the reflection of the water.
“May I sit?” he asked, always the gentleman. She nodded, her eyes never leaving the abnormally calm water, and he sunk down on the rock beside her.
“I was hoping you would be here,” he whispered in his strange brogue, his calloused fingers stroking her hair.
“If only I could stay away.”
Quite suddenly, he swept her into his lap and kissed her, and all her fears about the choice they were about to make vanished
“Do you love me?” she wanted to know when their lips parted.
“You have hung the stars in my sky and keep the sun alive with every breath.”
Her sob was one of happiness, and she buried her face in his shoulder. “I love you, Jamie Alexander.”
“Marry me tonight.”
“You know I will.”
He laughed, stood, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her mouth fiercely. “Come, the carriage is waiting!”
She laughed at his childish enthusiasm, and the sound bounced off the stone walls around them. She cast a final look toward her house, and the figure sitting on the rock next to it. He couldn’t see them, but he must have heard the laughter, because he stood and walked to the edge of the cliff. Her heart lurched as the moon threw his face into relief.
“Is it wrong? To feel bad for hurting him?”
“Of course not.”
They clasped hands, and together walked away from the ocean, and from him.
***
The rushing in my ears is still the sound of the ocean when that old life stops being my reality.
Aisling is kneeling beside me, her arms around my shoulders. She is apologizing to me, frantically, but her words fall on deaf ears and I shake her off. I need to see the water, to feel it on my feet, taste it on my lips. And so I run, all the way down the stairs, down to the beach, and I dive into the water, wincing as the cold invades my lungs.
Suddenly I can’t breathe. Is this how it felt, for him? The stabbing in his chest, the pins on his skin, the numbing in his limbs?
I break the surface choking and sputtering, trying to cough out the water that feels like it’s flooding my lungs.
Just as the blackness begins to swim at the edge of my vision, a warm pair of arms wraps around my waist and pulls me out of the water.
We stumble back to the beach together, and I collapse against him.
“What were you thinking?” Cillian yells.
Clinging to his shirtfront, I lean over and vomit water into the sand. And then the night invades the rest of the scene before my eyes.
***
It was almost light when the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. She leapt out of the cabin, drunk on more happiness than wine, and he followed, sober and worried about the coming meeting.
She took his hand at the door, not nearly as naïve as she seemed, and kissed his mouth, running her hand through his hair. “I know it will be hard, and it will not fix every problem that comes to us, but I love you, and from now on that is all that matters, and all that ever will.”
He sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love you, too.”
Life interrupted their passionate moment, in the form of a figure in the doorway, and Aisling’s expression was not one of contentment at the sight of newlywed bliss. Instead, her face was a portrait of disappointment and anger.
“How considerate of you to introduce us,” the elder sister said frostily. “Perhaps you might be as gracious to extend the same courtesy to the man in the sitting room waiting for your answer to his proposal!”
“Aisling, it’s too late.”
In the cold morning air, the slap not only stung, but it reverberated throughout the hallway. “You coward!” she shouted.
There were many things that Aisling could have chosen to say in that moment, but her accusation hurt worse than any that Muirghein could have imagined, and it brought the rest of the household running.
“Muirghein! Where have you been?”
“Ask her husband,” Aisling supplied harshly before running up the stairs.
“Husband?” the man in the background asked faintly. “What is this?” he demanded, his voice a little stronger.
“I apologize.”
“Apologies,” the man scoffed. “Surprisingly, I am getting quite sick of those.” He bowed. “So, my apologies Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly, but I believe it is time to take my leave.”
“Just wait, Sir, please. Now, listen to me, Muirghein. We are going to the priest today, and he will dissolve this union.”
“We cannot.”
“What do you mean? We are going this very instant.”
“No! I love him… and I am with child.”
“You said yes,” a voice predicts from behind me, and it is not the one I expect to hear.
“Do I have a choice?” I ask the sunset.
The voice responds beside my ear. “No, there is no choice. But I am very proud of you for making it.”
“Would he be, Quillan? Could he ever find it in his heart to forgive me?” More regret boils up, in the form of tears that press behind my eyes, the pressure building until it shatters and the dam floods over.
Quillan sits on the rocks beside me. “I forget how paralyzing this view is.” He sighs and put his arm around my shoulders, and the warmth seeps deep into my flesh, stopping just short of thawing the marrow in my bones. “And to answer your question, yes, he would be able to forgive you if he knew you were happy.”
I can no longer stand the sight of the water, the traitorous, heartbreaking thunder of the ocean, and my sobs hurt my chest. Quillan pulls me to my feet and buries my face in his shoulder.
“I wish it was me who had your hand, Muirghein.”
“I know.” But it is no more his choice to make than it is mine, and we are both powerless in all aspects of what has happened and what is yet to come.
“And I wish I had your heart,” he whispers in my ear. “For you know you have mine.”
The way they always have, his words crush my heart and squeeze my stomach into knots. It seems that he always finds the exact thing I need to hear, and the one that would burn the shattered remnants of my heart at the same time.
“Quillan, had we only met sooner…” I say, wondering as I do if it is the truth.
He hushes me with a soft hiss against my skin, and it wraps a shiver around my spine. “You mustn’t say that.” He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “He would only be happy to know he was first.”
I make a weak motion to pull away, my heart reluctant, hoping that we will be seen, and my head demanding, knowing that to be seen with him like this would mean unparalleled disaster. But Quillan will not allow me to leave.
“Just let me hold you a little longer. I’ll never be allowed to do this again.”
I wrap my arms around his waist and place my cheek back against his chest, breathing in the scent of soap, and of the ocean that already clings to his clothes. There is no more need for words, and we stand in silence, listening to the soft rush of the waves while I try to stem my tears.
***
When we finally return to the house, arm-in-arm, Quillan opens the door and leads me through to the sitting room.
“I found her,” he says unnecessarily.
“Finally!” Cillian cries, leaping to his feet. “Where have you been? You look freezing; come here.”
My hand constricts around Quillan’s arm for a moment before I let go and walk over to my new fiancé, who immediately removes his coat and places it over my shoulders. “Go change, my dear, before you catch cold.”
Aisling steps forward to take me upstairs, away from the suffocating Doyles, with their disapproving faces and heartless eyes.
“You have a pet name already,” she whispers as we ascend to my room, and I cannot help but to laugh, although it hurts my throat.
“Where did you disappear to?” she demands when we are alone in my bedroom.
“Down by the water.”
“Why did it take so long to find you?”
“It didn’t.”
Aisling’s mistrusting gaze hurts more than anything I have said today, or any decision I have made. “Muirghein, what have you done?” she whispers.
“Nothing! It’s not like that!” I protest, sobbing suddenly, though I am not sure why it matters that she believe me.
“Aillén, you cannot do this again!” she cries.
What is left of my veneer shatters with her accusation. She is right, and wrong, and it claws painfully at my skin, trying to get through to what remains of my heart. My legs give way beneath me and I fall to the ground.
***
The night was dark, cloaking the lone figure that sat upon the rocks.
A summer breeze whistled its way through the crevasses along the cliffs, and wrapped its warmth around the woman by the ocean.
He approached from behind her, creeping on his toes up the rock until he stood over her, creating a perfect tableau in the light of the moon and the reflection of the water.
“May I sit?” he asked, always the gentleman. She nodded, her eyes never leaving the abnormally calm water, and he sunk down on the rock beside her.
“I was hoping you would be here,” he whispered in his strange brogue, his calloused fingers stroking her hair.
“If only I could stay away.”
Quite suddenly, he swept her into his lap and kissed her, and all her fears about the choice they were about to make vanished
“Do you love me?” she wanted to know when their lips parted.
“You have hung the stars in my sky and keep the sun alive with every breath.”
Her sob was one of happiness, and she buried her face in his shoulder. “I love you, Jamie Alexander.”
“Marry me tonight.”
“You know I will.”
He laughed, stood, pulled her to her feet, and kissed her mouth fiercely. “Come, the carriage is waiting!”
She laughed at his childish enthusiasm, and the sound bounced off the stone walls around them. She cast a final look toward her house, and the figure sitting on the rock next to it. He couldn’t see them, but he must have heard the laughter, because he stood and walked to the edge of the cliff. Her heart lurched as the moon threw his face into relief.
“Is it wrong? To feel bad for hurting him?”
“Of course not.”
They clasped hands, and together walked away from the ocean, and from him.
***
The rushing in my ears is still the sound of the ocean when that old life stops being my reality.
Aisling is kneeling beside me, her arms around my shoulders. She is apologizing to me, frantically, but her words fall on deaf ears and I shake her off. I need to see the water, to feel it on my feet, taste it on my lips. And so I run, all the way down the stairs, down to the beach, and I dive into the water, wincing as the cold invades my lungs.
Suddenly I can’t breathe. Is this how it felt, for him? The stabbing in his chest, the pins on his skin, the numbing in his limbs?
I break the surface choking and sputtering, trying to cough out the water that feels like it’s flooding my lungs.
Just as the blackness begins to swim at the edge of my vision, a warm pair of arms wraps around my waist and pulls me out of the water.
We stumble back to the beach together, and I collapse against him.
“What were you thinking?” Cillian yells.
Clinging to his shirtfront, I lean over and vomit water into the sand. And then the night invades the rest of the scene before my eyes.
***
It was almost light when the carriage pulled to a stop in front of the mansion. She leapt out of the cabin, drunk on more happiness than wine, and he followed, sober and worried about the coming meeting.
She took his hand at the door, not nearly as naïve as she seemed, and kissed his mouth, running her hand through his hair. “I know it will be hard, and it will not fix every problem that comes to us, but I love you, and from now on that is all that matters, and all that ever will.”
He sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I love you, too.”
Life interrupted their passionate moment, in the form of a figure in the doorway, and Aisling’s expression was not one of contentment at the sight of newlywed bliss. Instead, her face was a portrait of disappointment and anger.
“How considerate of you to introduce us,” the elder sister said frostily. “Perhaps you might be as gracious to extend the same courtesy to the man in the sitting room waiting for your answer to his proposal!”
“Aisling, it’s too late.”
In the cold morning air, the slap not only stung, but it reverberated throughout the hallway. “You coward!” she shouted.
There were many things that Aisling could have chosen to say in that moment, but her accusation hurt worse than any that Muirghein could have imagined, and it brought the rest of the household running.
“Muirghein! Where have you been?”
“Ask her husband,” Aisling supplied harshly before running up the stairs.
“Husband?” the man in the background asked faintly. “What is this?” he demanded, his voice a little stronger.
“I apologize.”
“Apologies,” the man scoffed. “Surprisingly, I am getting quite sick of those.” He bowed. “So, my apologies Mr. and Mrs. O’Reilly, but I believe it is time to take my leave.”
“Just wait, Sir, please. Now, listen to me, Muirghein. We are going to the priest today, and he will dissolve this union.”
“We cannot.”
“What do you mean? We are going this very instant.”
“No! I love him… and I am with child.”