Page 71 of A Princess, Stolen
“Can I…can I read them?” I asked.
He turned his head toward me and crossed his arms as he always did when he wanted to keep me emotionally at a distance. “What would that achieve? You didn’t know these people, they mean nothing to you.”
“But they…they mean something to you,” I replied softly, hoping I wouldn’t provoke another angry outburst.
“Would I wear them on my skin otherwise?” There was a hint of mockery in his voice.
I took a step or two in his direction, and when he remained in place, I took a risk and stood close behind him. Even without touching him, I could feel the heat of his body, some of his anger, but also some of his tenderness that I could sense in him, perhaps the part that Pan called thegott hjarta. He always seemed to be wrestling with both, especially when it came to me.
“What did my dad do to you?” I asked. “Whatexactlydid he do? And don’t tell me that the less I know, the better off I am. After all, Sparta tried to drown me because of it! I think now I have a right to know everything.”
Nathan didn’t turn to me. “You truly believe he’s a good person, don’t you?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, his muscles, however, were tense.
“Yes,” I answered softly. “He sacrificed my mom's life for me. He never remarried because of me. He was always there for me.”
Nathan didn’t say anything for a while and then he said, “He must really love you, Will. Love you very, very much.” There was no envy or anger in the words, he sounded matter-of-fact, but something still made me uncomfortable. A tightness that constricted my chest making it hard to breathe.
I swallowed. “Yes, he does.” The tightness came from missing him. I missed Dad so much that my heart ached. I missed his laughter, his loving teasing, and our game nights in his wine bar.
Why don’t you meet their demands, Dad? Why don’t you just do what they ask? Why does everyone here think you’re a monster?
I tentatively touched Nathan’s arm, very lightly, just with my fingertips. “The names on your back…they were all people from your town, right?”
He stiffened, but I didn’t know if it was the touch or the question.
“They all have their stories,” he said quietly. “I don’t want them to be forgotten. Their names represent so many lost dreams, do you understand?”
“Yes.” I thought about Mom. “Lea McCormack…that’s your sister’s name, right?”
“Yes. Lea, Jacob, Coralie, and John, and also Mom and Dad… Those are the most important names of all… That is…wasmy family.” His voice was full of sadness, weighing a thousand graves deep.
“Who is Jacob?” I asked hesitantly. He had never mentioned the name before.
“My other brother. He died when he was less than a year old. Pneumonia. We didn’t even get a chance to get to know him properly.”
“I’m sorry.” My throat felt tight. So many deaths, so many losses in one life. “Sometimes, I imagine what it would be like if they were still alive. The kind of person I would be today…”
I swallowed, wanting to say something that would comfort him, but I knew there were no words that actually helped and that you were always alone in your grief. “You still think about them a lot,” I said after a while.
“Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?”
“I would think about them a lot, but I rarely allow myself to. No feelings.” He turned abruptly to me. “How are you, Will?”
Obviously, he was distracting me. “Good,” I lied.
He raised his eyebrows, a clear sign that he didn’t believe me. “We need to talk again. About Sparta and the attack.”
My shoulders tensed. “Okay.”
“It’s not okay for you, I can see that, but it still has to be done.”
“I already told you everything.” I turned and stared at the door.
“Sparta came clean about the Outer Banks and tourist boats, but he denies everything else… You said he smelled of camphor.”
I turned back to him. “Like always.”
