Midnight Lily(67)

"Come sit next to me, Lily. Explain what happened. Tell me about your life. I want to know about you. I want to know every little thing. Please don't be scared. Please know that there's nothing you can tell me that will cause me to feel any differently about you." When I stood up and sat back down next to him, he turned toward me and took my hands in his. I gave him a smile and felt my lips waver slightly. This. This is where I've longed to be. It felt so good to be touched by him. He smiled back, so gently, and then he pulled me toward him, wrapping his arms around me. I relaxed into his embrace. It felt so good to be held. I hadn't been held by anyone in the year we'd been separated. I'd missed him so much. I burrowed into his warm, solid chest as tears slid down my cheeks. When I leaned away from him, he used his thumbs to wipe them away. "Lily, Lily of the Night," he murmured. "You've been all alone, too. You've been lonely just like me."

I nodded. "Yes," I whispered. "But not just lonely, Ryan. Lonely for you. Only for you."

He planted his lips on my forehead for several moments before he said, "I missed you, too, Lily. I can't even express how much I’ve missed you. I’ve ached for you. I still do. I still do." His voice sounded hoarse and filled with pain. I wanted to raise my mouth to his. I was trembling from holding back, but we had so much to discuss. So many things that might cause him to run . . .

"Ryan," I murmured. He seemed to read my thoughts because he pulled back and took my hands in his again.

"Can I get you a glass of water? Some coffee?"

I nodded, the tension releasing from my body. It was as if he'd read my mind and knew I needed a moment. He seemed to know my needs so well, though we'd spent so little time together. "Sure, water would be great."

Ryan stood up and headed to the kitchen and I stood, too, walking to the window and taking a deep breath, readying myself. I'd never talked about my illness with anyone other than Nyala and my doctors. I'd never been afraid like this.

I stared out of Ryan's window, overlooking the vastness of Golden Gate Park. From here, I could almost imagine it was our forest. It made me feel . . . homesick. Although I supposed that was the wrong word since it hadn't actually been my home. Still, the feeling lingered. I'd been happy there, though at the time, I'd been the mere ghost of myself.

I turned when I heard Ryan enter the room and walked back over to the couch. He set a bottle of water on the coffee table and I took a long drink once I'd sat back down.

"Do you need a minute?" he asked.

I set the water back down and shook my head. "No, I just need to start. I need to tell you."

"Then tell me," he said gently.

I took a deep breath and dove right in. "The winter I was ten, my mother took me to see The Nutcracker in downtown Telluride. It was an icy night and we almost stayed home, but in the end, my mother decided to brave the weather. It wasn't far and the roads had been salted." I paused, remembering how beautiful it had been that night, the way the tree branches had been encased in ice, making them sparkle in the moonlight. It had looked like a land from a fairy tale. The whole night had felt magical. I had been enchanted by the ballet, swept away by the music the orchestra played. The hot chocolate my mother bought me during intermission had been thick and sweet, topped by swirls of whipped cream with a candy cane stirrer. My mother had been particularly beautiful in her white winter coat and red scarf, her blonde hair long and lustrous, her green eyes shining with happiness. When we left, I told her it was the most wonderful night of my life.

"We had parked in a lot several blocks from the theater, and because we were talking and reminiscing about the performance, we got turned around and ended up on a side street that only had one dim street light. That's when the man stepped out from the doorway of a building." Ryan took my hand in his, squeezing it to let me know he was there. "At first I was just confused, but I could tell my mother was scared, and so I became scared, too. We tried to turn around and walk the other way, but he immediately caught up to us. He put a knife to my mother's throat and demanded money."

"God, Lily," Ryan said. I paused as I picked up the water and took a long drink, needing the moment.

"My mother handed him her purse and he poured everything out and took what he wanted. But he wasn't done with us. He dragged my mom into a doorway and started ripping at her clothes—" I drew in a large, shuddery breath, even now reliving the confused dread that had gripped me back then. "I was crying, of course, and he kept telling me to shut up or he'd kill my mother. I . . ." I'd begun shaking and Ryan pulled me in to his chest, making soft sounds of comfort.

"You don't have to do this, Lily, not if you don't want to."

"I do," I insisted. "I do want to." And truthfully, I didn't know if I could stop now that I'd started. Telling this story was like a runaway train. I had to see it to its completion—it felt like I didn't have a choice in the matter. Still, it felt good to soak in the warmth of Ryan's body as I told it.

Without leaning back up, I said, "He raped her. He raped her in front of me and I couldn't do a thing. I didn't even fully understand what was happening, just that he was hurting her so brutally." I felt Ryan's body tense, but he kept stroking my hair. He never stopped. "He pushed her aside and he . . . he grabbed for me. His eyes were glazed like he was on something. He started ripping at my clothes, just as he'd done to her." Ryan's arms hugged me tightly again and I could feel him trembling now, too. Ryan, my sweet love. "My mother hadn't fought, not until then. It was like the minute he reached for me, she came back to life. She started screaming and clawing at him. I was screaming, too. It was . . ." My words faded as I wiped at the tears that had begun to fall. "It was as if we'd walked right into hell from that warm, wonderful theater." I paused again, breathing deeply, attempting to gather myself. "The man brought his knife to my mother's face, and he started slashing her, again and again and—"