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Chapter 18

Charlie had dawdled long enough downstairs. Sin was already working in the loft when she woke up. She put off going up to see him as long as she could; the events of last night left her feeling shy and slightly embarrassed. There were no feelings between them and the fact remained the marriage was forced, and he was simply being kind. They had acted purely on impulse and he proved himself to be patient and generous. But that was where it ended. She slowly climbed the stairs. He stood when he saw her, wiping his hands and pulling the earbuds from his ears. "There you are," he said, coming over to give her a kiss.

"Uhm, how's it going?" she asked, pulling away slightly. "With the painting."

"Almost done. I'll let you look at it soon." He grabbed her around the waist to prevent her going farther. "Hey, don't retreat on me. Last night was wonderful."

"I'm not retreating."

"You're not having regrets?" he asked, concerned.

"No, no regrets," she said. "I couldn't ask for a better tutor."

He laughed. "Tutor is it? I've never been called that before." He cupped her chin, tilting her face up. "Really, what's bothering you? Was it too much?"

"No, it was perfect." She stepped back and went to look out the window.

"I should have thought, you'll be sore. Perhaps you should take a bath. It will help." He followed her, putting his hands on her shoulders.

"Perhaps a walk to clear my head."

"I would rather you wait for me." He kissed her on the neck, sending shivers down her spine. "Take a bath. I won't be much longer."

"Okay," she said. He gave her shoulders a slight squeeze.

Downstairs, she went into the bedroom and made the bed. She felt restless, and a bath, while it would be soothing, wasn't what she wanted. William barked at the front door, whining. She opened it for him and he ran out toward the cliffs. She looked up the stairs toward the loft, Sin would be busy, and she knew he didn't like William on the beach by himself, so she quietly stepped outside and shut the door behind her. Gray-blue clouds filled the sky, the sun shining through in hazy streaks. She followed William down the steep path to the beach and continued to walk along the waterline as he sniffed and played in the surf. It called to her, the water. She longed to go into it and looked up at the windows on the cottage to see if Sin was watching. They reflected the sun's feeble attempt to shine, mirroring the darkening clouds. She couldn't tell if she could be seen and would have to take the chance. She slipped the dress over her head and pulled down her underwear, stepping out of them. The water was cold and took her breath away. Better if she just dove-in, then try to become accustomed to it slowly. A wave approached, and she timed it perfectly, diving underneath just before it broke. She swam toward the bottom, becoming formless, voiceless, and matterless, to a place where neither intuition well-developed nor intelligence well-instructed was needed. She just was, and for a moment, she glimpsed her divine self as a woman. She went to find herself. She popped back up, gulping in the cold air, and floated on her back, the last five days playing out in her mind. She was not the same girl. There was a freedom to her which she had not possessed before, and in a year, her life for the first time would be her own. The possibilities were endless. She started to shiver, the water's icy bite taking hold. She dove under one more time then swam toward the shore. William barked in the distance. She had floated farther than she thought, the riptide carrying her down the coast. She got out and walked back toward the rocky outcrop where she had laid her dress, stopping short. A man stood watching her as William barked madly, running around him in circles. Michael. He threw something at the dog, hitting him on the side. William yelped and took off up the trail. Charlie covered herself with her hands, as a deep seeded dread filled her, and walked toward him.

"Michael," she said quietly. Her shivering had turned to shaking. "What are you doing here?"

He had picked up her dress and held it, making no move to hand it to her. His other hand was grasped tightly around an almost empty bottle of whiskey. "What am I doing here?" He laughed. "What are you doing here, Charlie?"

He looked unkempt. His sandy brown hair hung limp against his skull, unwashed, and he hadn't shaven, the stubble of his beard growing in odd patches.

"Give me my dress," she said.

"Dear God. What the fuck is on your stomach?"

Her hands dropped protectively, covering the crest, but leaving her exposed. "You need to go."

"I'm not going anywhere without you." He took a step forward. "I came all the way here to find you. You owe me."

"I owe you nothing," she said, glancing up at the cottage. "You need to leave."

"You fucking owe me everything. You left me at the altar with no explanation. Just disappeared and left me to be the laughingstock of our friends and family."

"Michael, I'm sorry if I hurt you, but there is nothing between us."

He threw the whiskey bottle, shattering it against the rocks, and grabbed her by the arm. "I fucking loved you. I still love you." His face was inches from hers, and his stale breath, heavy with alcohol, was warm on her skin. He tossed the dress in the water and took her other arm, shaking her. "Look at you." His eyes swept her body, settling on her stomach. "What the fuck is that? Are you in some kind of fucking cult?"

Tears streamed down her face. "Let me go."

"You want me to let you go?" he asked, twisting his hand through her hair on the back of her head. "Never." His mouth came down hard on hers, kissing her.

She bit his lip, pulling away. "I said let go of me."

"You fucking bitch." He wiped the blood from his mouth with a hand, his other still clutching her, and slapped her hard across the face.

"Get your hands off her," Sin yelled as he came bounding down the trail.

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