Cecile sighed. She was embarrassed at herself and angry. It seemed like
she had little or no self-control with her emotions lately. It wasn’t bad enough
that she had broke down in front of Mr. Sakic, now she was whimpering like a
puppy in front of the one person she shouldn’t do that in front
of.
He’ll smell weakness on you. He’ll smell vulnerability and before you
know it SNAP you’re in his trap. Jennifer’s eyes had been narrowed when she had
said that, her voice low and rapid. This was a cunning, evil man! He craved
young women; he wanted them in his bad and out before they could breath. He
dominated and was cruel to women.
Cecile hoped that she had somewhat salvaged the situation by calming
down, but he was still standing next to her. She could feel his stare; she could
feel the heat from his body. Her ears were still burning from all the things
Jennifer had told her. Preposterous things! Things that were only done in penny
romance novels by mustache twirling villains and things that gnawed at
her.
But she saw how he was with his daughter. She could see it in his smile
and eyes that he adored every move the little girl made and hung on her every
word. She saw how patient he was with the boys, and how he sat down to their
level and talked with them as if they were little men.
It couldn’t be true not all of it! Mr. Roy had a right to know what was
said about him, she knew that. Still, Cecile couldn’t bring herself to look him
in the eye and just tell him the things she had heard. To just drop the subject
would be the simplest thing. And he seemed willing to drop it; she had to grant
him that one.
Oooo but you shouldn’t think so harshly of him! The things he has done
for the sick little children at the hospital.... Jacquelyn’s eyes had been
sleepy looking, a smile on her pink mouth as she told her in a floaty voice
about the contributions he made to children’s charities and the time he took to
be friendly to them. Still, that didn’t prove anything. Almost all people with
money donated to charities, it was just a simple tax write
off....
Two different women, two completely different characters they painted of
him. Someone was lying. Which one?
“What are you reading, little one, if you don’t mind my asking?” His
voice was somewhat low and soft, there was no hint of teasing or taunting in it.
Cecile looked up at him. He was just a man! His eyes were blue and soft his nose
was broken. His hair was shaggy and floppy. When had he ever touched her other
than when SHE attacked him?
Cecile slid the ribbon marker into her book and held it up to him. “The
Psalms of David,” she replied. I can’t trust them, either of them. She thought
to herself. I need to flush his character out myself, I need to glean what I
can. I need to trust my own sense of him.
She saw a crinkle between his eyes as he took the book from her, and she
noticed that he made a point of not touching her fingers as he did. “The Bible?”
he asked.
“No, well, yes...” Cecile said. “Well I mean...”
“Oh,” Patrick said as he opened the book and flipped through the glossy
pages. “Is it just the Book of Psalms? With pictures?”
“Yeah, I mean to put is simply,” Cecile said. “It’s the Book of Psalms,
but it’s a copy of a volume this British soldier in
“He was talented,” Patrick said, “When was this?”
Was he actually interested?
“1900 I think,” Cecile said. Now she was feeling shy for some reason.
“The book was... my mom gave it to me when I was an infant. I like to keep it
with me.”
“And it had meaning for this soldier?” he said.
Cecile nodded. “Look at the detail in the paintings. It was... a
valentine for the woman he found so beautiful that he had to create something
this gorgeous for her! It’s impossibly romantic for him to have done that. It is
a work of love. Who can deny true love like that?”
“Well the pictures are pretty...” Patrick said holding the book at arms
length and squinting at a page, she saw the smirk in his eye. Did he look at the
women he possessed like that with that smug and smirking
look?
Cecile stood up and snatched the book back. “Oh really!” She exclaimed.
“You’re teasing again!” She felt hurt and prickled. Perhaps he was just being
good-natured but this was the last thing she wanted to have made fun of in front
of her.
Patrick laughed quietly and she glared at him, she could feel her cheeks
flushing but she didn’t see any malice or irritation in his eyes. It wasn’t
possible to read him from the outside, was it? People who were difficult reads
often couldn’t be trusted.
“Forgive me again,” he said. “It’s a nice book. But it is just a book
from the Bible, yes? How much could you glean from it on a regular basis other
than appreciation of the artwork?”
Cecile couldn’t help but feel incredulous indignation boil within her.
“Why is it,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm, “That the Bible is
always looked down upon as something... eccentric?”
Patrick’s smile left his eyes and mouth and he nodded with a small
agreeable frown. “That is true, sad but true. Not many pay any real attention to
the Bible, but I have to admit, it is hard to understand.”
Cecile sniffed. “O Lord God to whom vengeance belongth. O Lord God to
whom vengeance belongth, show thyself. Lift up thyself, thou judge of the Earth,
render a reward to the proud. Lord how long shall the wicked, how long shall the
wicked triumph? How long shall they utter and speak hard things and all the
workers of inequity boast themselves?
“He that planted the ear, shall he not hear?
“He that farmed the eye, shall he not see?
“He that chastiseth the heathen shall he not be
correct?
“He that teacheth men knowledge, shall he not know?
“How hard is that to understand Mr. Roy?”
Patrick smiled and there was a tinge of something dark and glittering in
his eyes. Cecile swallowed hard, wondering if she had gone too
far.
“Not hard,” he said, “A plea for God’s vengeance no? Is that a passage
from this book?”
Cecile nodded, not liking the look in his eyes. “Psalms Ninety
Four.”
Patrick raised his eyebrows. “Interesting. A work of love and a passage
of such violence. Vengeance moves faster than love sometimes, does it not? What
else does it say?”
He was daring her wasn’t he? “The Lord knoweth the thoughts of man, that
they are vanity.” She said.
The darkness melted from his eyes, whirled away and the kindness was
there again. “Clever girl,” he said. “Your mother has taught you well. Not to
trust men, eh?”
Cecile frowned. “My mother has no clue as to the things that I have
learned. How much truth is there about you? I mean what I’ve heard? I don’t need
to repeat it if it’s true, you know.”
“I know,” he said calmly. “I’ll offer you this. Without hearing a word of
what has been told to you, I will say perhaps one third of it is
true.”
Cecile felt the cold shock of it slit through her; he wasn’t teasing this
time. “Why would you say that?” she asked. She tightened her grip on the book in
her hand. “If not to just scare me!”
No smile, no movement towards her.
“Because I detest
misinformation Miss Danceny. I am no saint, in fact sometimes I am simply
horrible, but I don’t wish to be misrepresented.”
Cecile swallowed and the words flittered throughout her brain like blind
pigeons. She didn’t want to wonder exactly what was true and what was not. “And
what about me?” she asked.
“I like you,” Patrick said. “I like you a lot, and I don’t want you to
think that I am lying or trying to deceive you. It annoys me to have you blink
and tremble like a terrified fawn around me; it’s very obvious you know. So I
will tell you that I have done some horrible things in my past, but not many of
us is not like this. So you see I am not lying to you. You needn’t feel as if I
am trying to gain your trust under a false pretense, or trying to make you feel
unjustifiably safe. If you want me to leave right now and never speak to you
again, I will do this, without question or hesitation. So what do you say? Is
not a bad deal?”
Cecile ran her tongue over her lips and looked away briefly before
returning her gaze to him. “You’re so tender with your children,” she said and
she saw his eyelid flutter, and his cheeks flushed. He didn’t answer her either.
“Why is it so hard to just... just care about them and not bother yourself with
such fleeting pleasure, such superficial meddling with other
things?”
He still didn’t say a word. It looked like tears had moistened his eyes.
“Don’t you dare try to force a reaction using my children!” He said. “Who are
you to judge anyone’s forthrightness little girl?”
Cecile wrinkled her nose and stood up. “No one!” she said. “I’m not
trying to...” her thoughts, the point she was trying to make all of it had
fallen out of her head and that infuriated her. “I’m sorry!” She pressed her
hands over her eyes and sat down. “I’m sorry,” she said in a quieter
voice.
A moment passed before she felt his hand on her shoulder, she felt a
tremble in her belly but she didn’t uncover her eyes.
“We don’t get along very well do we?” he said in a voice almost as low as
a whisper, there was a quiet laugh. “It doesn’t take long for something to fuse
itself between us does it?”
Cecile peeked at him and saw that calm smile again. “Like oil and water,”
she said. “It seems that way doesn’t it?”
His hand slid briefly over her back and between her shoulder blades,
tickling her in a way she wasn’t used to enjoying. “You’re just nineteen?” he
said. “It doesn’t seem that way. You have such a confident, arrogant wisdom in
your voice and eyes. It almost seems as if you’re older than
Danny.”
Cecile closed her eyes, fell back onto the bed, and groaned. Danny! He
hadn’t even crossed her mind! Why did this man make her forgot the face of him
so swiftly.
“I will leave you now, then,” he said. “I will not bother you again or
speak to you. I don’t want to distress you, yes?”
Cecile opened her eyes and sat up. “No,” she said quickly. “You don’t
have to think that... I mean... I don’t want us to be foreigners we needn’t be
like that.”
A smile from him that almost made him look boyish. “Bon,” he said. “Until
later little one.” And then he left up the stairs leaving Cecile to wonder what
exactly she had learned from him. This man, this difficult
read.
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