A Lily Among Thorns(116)

“Solomon—” she said, and he loved the way she said his name so much that he had to keep talking or he might do something selfish like tell her that.

“I never believed, before I met you, that I could go my own way,” he said. “That I could deserve more than someone was willing to give me. That love might not be worth the sacrifices we have to make for it. You’ve taught me that. What I mean is—I do understand, if you decide you don’t want—” He waved a hand between them, as if in a moment the word that would describe all that lay between them would pop into his head. As if such a word existed. He shook his head. “This.”

She stared at him, the shadows making her eyes look huge. “You’re giving up?”

He stood up. “That’s exactly the problem. This has turned into some kind of tug-of-war. I’m not giving up. I’m just saying that I won’t push you anymore. I won’t ask for anything. I’ve been torturing you, and it’s not fair. If nothing’s changed when we go back to London on Sunday, I’ll leave. Just please—make a decision that will make you happy. Take good care of yourself.”

She looked as lost as he felt. He went to the bed and stood looking down at her: at her perfect face and her perfect body that suddenly, for the first time, looked ordinary.

She wasn’t a goddess, or an angel, or a harpy. She was a woman, a frightened, unhappy, determined, beautiful woman, and he loved her so badly that just leaning down and brushing his lips across her left temple, where her birthmark was, brought tears to his eyes. “Thank you for everything,” he said, and left.





Chapter 28


Solomon made his way back to the room he shared with Elijah—the room he had shared with his brother since they were born. The candle was out, and Elijah was lying on his side facing the wall, but Solomon could tell that he wasn’t sleeping. Last night at the posting inn, it had been the same; but then he had let Elijah pretend and gone directly to his own bed. Not tonight. He lit the candle. “Li?”

After a moment, Elijah turned over and sat up. Except for his boots, he was still fully dressed, wearing his old bottle-green coat. For a jolting moment Solomon thought maybe it was all a dream, that Elijah was dead and not sitting here a few feet away. It couldn’t be a dream, he told himself. I would never dream that new darned place in the corner of Elijah’s pocket.

Then he remembered Serena saying that very first night, You didn’t just dream it, and holding up the corner of her quilt, and the strange sense of vertigo receded. It was all real, and he had been ready to let it slip away without trying.

“Li,” he began, “I’ve been a fool. I ought never to have said what I did—any of it.”

Elijah’s eyes shot up to meet his. “What?”

“Don’t look so surprised. I know I’ve failed you—and if you don’t want to speak to me again, at least this time I’ll know you’re all right—”

To his surprise, Elijah exploded. “Damn it, Sol, what the hell is wrong with you? Of course I want to speak to you again!”

Solomon sat down on the edge of his bed with a thump. “Thank God.”

“How could you ever think I wouldn’t?”

Solomon rubbed at his temple. “Well—you did without me before, didn’t you? I didn’t know it, but in a way you’ve been doing without me all our lives. I thought I knew you like the back of my hand, and now—I don’t know what to think. I remember being jealous of you when we were boys because you’d wink at pretty girls in the street when I was afraid to, and I feel as if I must have been blind—”

Elijah said a French word Solomon was sure couldn’t be translated in front of their mother. “Afraid—you were afraid? It was easy to wink at girls in the street because I didn’t want them! When it came to what I did want, I was so terrified I could barely see straight. After I kissed Alan the first time, I was sick in the bushes on my way home. I was sure he’d never speak to me again, and he’d tell everyone, and you’d never speak to me again either because there was something wrong with me, something twisted and diseased.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” Solomon said fiercely.

“Thank you,” Elijah said with a rueful smile.

“God, how did I miss this? All those years—was I not paying attention? Didn’t I care? How could I have failed you this badly?”