The House

Chapter 47 - Day 5: The Unexpected

"Diary!" I yell, causing David to drop his spoon into his bowl, the ice cream on it splattering against the pottery sides. I grab his hand before he can take his spoon again and earnestly gaze into his eyes. "Maribelle kept a diary."

Silence follows my announcement, and I must say, I'm rather underwhelmed by David's response to that important revelation. He simply gazes back, not saying anything, his fingers motionless in my grasp, and as time drags on without any response from him, I'm beginning to fear that I've lost him now. He has finally closed the door on me and my madness.

The first few raindrops hit the windows like angry spit, and then it is pouring down again, drowning out the silence in the kitchen. Talk about raining on my parade.

"She thought about her diary while she was having sexy-time with her lo... husband... using my body?" David asks in a tight, sceptical voice.

Is he angry? Irritated? Sad? I cannot quite get a handle on what he is feeling. Right now, David is like a witch's cauldron of slowly brewing bubbling emotions.

"No, I saw it."

The darkness blinks from his eyes, a tentative sparkle gleaming on the surface, and with a sinking feeling, I realise that I'm about to extinguish that vague flicker of hope again.

"In... the little room..."

I drop David's hand and hide from his eyes, shovelling scoop after scoop of ice cream into my big, stupid mouth. I wish I hadn't said anything. I've just made it worse, and now the nutty, chocolaty ice cream tastes like sawdust. I saw her diary (if it even was hers) in a room that no longer exists. If the diary existed and it was hers, where would it be? Would it even contain any real proof or just the wishful ramblings of a young woman in love?

"I'm sorry, David," I finally whisper, unable to look at him again, and all my ice cream is gone now; there's nothing to hide behind anymore or to do with my hands to appear busy. I jump a little when he takes my hand in his, gently squeezing my fingers. Oh, good! There is something to do with my hands, after all.

"I love that you're trying to prove that I'm not closely related to a murderer," he says, his voice back to being warm honey dripping and flowing over hot waffles. That draws my eyes to his again, and I'm relieved to see a gentle smile spreading from his lips, flooding his face with warmth.

"Even if that were true - and it's not - it still would not say anything about who you are, David. If it were true - it's NOT - but if he were a cold-blooded criminal - he is NOT - you would be his redemption. The one thing in life he contributed to that is truly good."

No, I'm not usually that deep, and I don't often deliver sermons, but I meant every word I said with all my heart. David's eyes narrow, his long lashes momentarily hiding the radiant irises, and then he grins.

"Is it me you're falling for or my great-grandfather?"

"Both!" Oh... golly, that's actually true. I giggle nervously when his smile widens and his eyebrows shoot up. "I mean, Belle fell for your great-grandfather... not me..."

That is true too. Oh, my soul, I'm so confused! I'm like a chameleon on a pile of Smarties.

"So, are you confirming that you did fall for me?"

"I..." and now I'm choking, not sure on what, probably my own tongue for getting me tangled in this awkward conversation. Why is David taking joy in my discomfort? Is it revenge for giving him hope and then dashing it? 

"I fell..." Well, it's obvious that I'm falling for him, isn't it? That I've already fallen for him... hard. "On my head when I was a toddler," I inform him, happy to see his amusement turning to confusion. "Multiple times, according to my mother. She says I was always curious and busy, always getting into impossible situations and falling on my-."