Farraway Mist ?A Wattpad featured story?

Chapter 32: The Truth At Last

"I'm in a funny position here," she finally said. "On the one hand, I'm descended from my people, you know? Real no-nonsense, down-to-earth, sensible people. Santa, the tooth fairy, the Easter bunny, all that garbage was out the window by the time we were three. We're supposed to be Catholic, but no one in my family's even been in a church in, like, a hundred years or something, because everyone thinks it's crap." Scout smiled at George.

"We're just not whimsical or imaginative people, you understand?" She made a stern face. "Everyone's very strong." She tilted her head. "On the other hand, I had ancestors at the Salem witch trials. And there are some Brahmins back there, somewhere, too, I think, who believed in being naked and communing with nature and all that? Walt Whitman? The Alcotts?" She shook her head.

"So yes, I know some weird shit's been going on, almost since the day I arrived here." She looked frankly at George. "At first I assumed I was imagining it. Then, I kind of didn't want to know about it. Now, I think I have to know about it." She took a deep breath. "So, are you ready to tell me?" She took a swallow of her tea.

George began to cry, like really, really cry. He shook his head.

"I'm afraid to tell you," he admitted, wiping his eyes with his hand.

"What?" Scout sat up, setting her tea aside, reaching for him. "George, why? What could you possibly be afraid of telling me? You can tell me anything, anything, you must know that--"

He shook his head. "Not this, not this," he said miserably. "You won't love me anymore, you won't, you'll leave, you'll take Alis before she's even born and you'll go away, I'll never see you again--"

What?

"George, listen to me. That's just not possible, it's not! There's nothing you could tell me that would make that happen, you hear me?" Scout leaned forward, shaking him. "Dear heart, I love you, George, I love you as much as I love this baby I have inside me!" She put her hands on either side of his face, forcing him to look at her. "You have to believe me. Now talk to me, George."

He stared at her, finally nodding.

"It's Tessa," he said in a low voice. "My first wife."

Scout sat up. This wasn't what she'd been expecting to hear. She waited, but he didn't continue.

"Are you saying that Tessa's haunting Farraway Mist?" she finally asked doubtfully.

"No, she's haunting me," he burst out, fresh tears appearing. "After what happened in London in the toilets with Kelly, and what happened with Grace in Connecticut with her nightmare, it should be obvious that it's not this place, it's fucking me.

"It's me," he repeated softly. "You can never get away from it, Scout, as long as you're with me. I was hoping that, since Alis is a girl, she might be safe, but we'd never know for sure, you know? I mean, what an awful way to live. Or maybe after what she did to Jess, she'd be satisfied, but again, it's the not knowing that would be unbearable..." he trailed off, staring into the fire.

"What are you talking about?" Scout asked. "What does Alis' gender have to do with it? Or what happened to Jess?"

George took a deep breath. "I need something stronger," he said. He rose and poured himself a drink, tossing it off and pouring himself another before sitting down to continue.

"So? What does Tessa want?" Scout asked. Even knowing George as well as she did, Scout wasn't entirely sure that they weren't dealing with some strange neurosis of George's.

"Revenge," George breathed.

Scout stared.

"For what?" she asked. Kelly's words came back to her. "Oh god, George, did you--did you hurt her baby?" She swallowed.