Page 32 of Reaper
Lark
Breathingbecomesharderandblack dots dance around my vision as his words repeat in my mind.
Yours was the worst.
Your room and your side of the house were damaged the worst.
We’d often joke that Ma and Granny had one side of the house and I had the other. With the exception of my hobby rooms, that is, since they were originally Pappy’s and Grandpa George’s hobby rooms.
The smallest room in the house, which is more like a glorified closet, is where I brew my own beers for personal use, just like Grandpa George did. However, the setup that I have in the speakeasy portion of our supper club is, was, where I brewed the larger batches of our family’s recipes as well as a few of my own that the customers ended up loving and kept requesting. I’ve even used our family’s recipes as a base and then tweaked them slightly, adding more flavor and depth to them, making a sisterbrew. As for the other hobby room, that was where I worked on my bows and wood carvings.
But to hear that the side that I mainly worked in and lived in was more heavily damaged than the rest of the house... It cements the fact that we were targeted in my mind.
ThatIwas targeted.
And even though they have alibis, I’m almost positive it was my ex-fiancé’s family that ordered the fires to be set.
“Breathe, Darlin’. I need you to take a deep breath for me. Can you do that, Lark?”
I blink a few times and try to do as he asks. After a few deep breaths, my vision starts to clear and I realize Reaper’s cupping my uninjured cheek, his thumb grazing up and down my cheek as he stares down at me in concern. Belatedly, I realize we’re back outside and that the mask is no longer covering my face.
“There you are,” he almost whispers, but the way he says it sends a shiver down my spine. Not of fear, but of excitement. “If you’re ready, we can go back inside, but if you need more time, then we can stay out here a bit longer. Maybe we can check out the rooms on the main floor before we tackle upstairs?” he asks and I nod, not trusting my voice right now.
I know I’m not going to be able to do much other than just look around because of my injuries and not wanting to get soot in them again, but I need to at least see the rooms. To see the extent of the damage with my own eyes.
He helps me put the mask back on and then he’s right there beside me as I slowly walk back up the stairs again. When we get to the doorway of the first room down the hallway, a choked sob escapes me before I can stop it. Releasing Reaper’s arm, I venture inside the carving room as tears stream down my cheeks, turning the edges of my mask wet.
Most of Pappy’s wood carving tools are damaged beyond use; the steel blades lying in piles of ash.
Over the large wooden workbench Pappy had made, part of which is gone while the rest is heavily damaged and covered in soot, is the intricate storage wall and cabinets he made years ago to hold his own, mine, and our family’s tools. The cubbies and cabinets take up the vast majority of the wall. Once, it had been a genuine work of art with how he’d made and assembled each section by hand. Now it’s hardly recognizable due to the damage.
Turning, another sob escapes me when I see the adjacent wall where some of my bows and my family’s bows are hung. Most of the bows and the vast majority of the wood carving area have been burned to ashes. All of our hard work, the history, gone. Seeing the ashes feels like a part of my soul has been ripped out of me.
“I’ve got ya, Darlin’.”
Strong arms wrap around me and the next thing I know, I’m turned into Reaper’s chest as he carefully holds me, making sure not to touch any of my scars. I don’t know if anyone’s told him where they are, but he must know something because not once do his hands touch them. Clutching his cut, I sob, grieving, as memories of being in this room with Pappy and Grandpa George wash over me.
I’ve always looked up to my grandparents. Granny and Pappy, as well as Grandpa George and Grandma Sophia. All of them were hard workers, but they were always open about their love for each other. Kissing, hugging, and touching each other like they couldn’t bear to be without their touch for more than a few hours.
Another thing that I loved was that they never hid away or were only romantic in private. On more than one occasion, I’d seen them kissing each other passionately and had to promptly walk out of the room I’d just walked into. It’s never been to the point of almost having sex, but I loved that they didn’t shy away from showing their feelings toward one another. It wasn’t untilI’d spent the night at some of my friend’s houses that I found out that other families weren’t always like that. They almost seemed, well, colder if that makes any sense. While yes, you could tell that they loved each other, but they didn’t touch as much and if they kissed, it was a peck, not a deep kiss.
I rarely saw my grandparents or great-grandparents arguing, but the few times I did, I was shocked when I saw them almost come to blows because of how angry they’d get.
However, as I got older, it dawned on me what they were doing.
They were getting out all of their anger about the situation at once rather than letting it fester and grow. Neither one would leave or walk away until they both said everything that was bothering them and getting it all off their chest at once. Then they’d go to separate rooms in the house, or sometimes Pappy or Grandpa George would wander off in the woods, but almost like clockwork, before supper, they’d meet up again and talk, quieter this time and with less yelling. By the time the food was ready, they’d already have kissed and made up. I loved that they never stewed longer than a few hours about an issue. And later, they’d always come to some sort of compromise if they couldn’t fully agree on whatever it was they were arguing about.
I’m not going to lie. Their kind of love, even the not so pleasant parts, is what I’ve always strived to look for in a partner. More than one relationship I’ve ended because my boyfriend at the time wouldn’t open up to me. I’m not naïve. I know I’ll never get the same kind of relationship either of my grandparents had, but I at least wanted my partners to be open with me. The only one that came close was Aiden, but he’d fooled me so much that I’m still recovering from the hurt he’d caused. As well as Kelly. Granted, it’s less now than it was in the beginning, but it still hurts. Even more so if he or his father were really the ones behind the fires. Not to mention that seeing so much of myfamily’s history, literally in ashes at my feet, makes it feel like I’ll never be whole again.
I’m not sure how long we stand there, with me clutching Reaper’s cut while he rubs soothing circles on my back. When I pull back, I wipe my face and he hands me a tissue. I frown, wondering where he found one when the corners of his lips turn up a bit and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a little pack of tissues.
“Kind of figured one of you three, or maybe all of you, might need them at some point today.”
A soft chuckle slips past my lips before I can stop it as I take the tissue from him, remove my mask, and blow my nose.
“Better?”
Surprisingly, I do feel better. Lighter. “Yes, thank you.” I put my mask back on and try not to wince at the pain.
