I listen to the wind howling outside and the rain slamming into the vibrating windows. All of these threatening sounds, even the roaring thunder, are preferable to the words I just heard coming from David's mouth.
I almost long for the good old days when I was just afraid that he might be a very friendly mop.
"What?" That is the most eloquent question I can come up with right now. My brain has gone into complete shutdown mode. Have I been all clingy with a married man? I'm depressed now. I miss the simpler times when I was just scared and freaked out and thought I was going insane.
David drinks the last of his coffee and sets the mug down, staring into it for a very long time. It feels like forever because I really need him to say things to me. Preferably nice things that don't include him lying to me about not having a family waiting for him to come home.
"Iris and I met during our first year of university and got married a year later. Everybody told us that we weren't ready to get married, but we did it anyway. I wish they'd been a bit more clear about what they really meant," David says, still staring morosely into his empty mug. "We didn't have much in the line of money, so we skipped the honeymoon, switched our studies to online and moved in here instead. We were eager to start our lives together and didn't see the need to wait."
I cannot imagine trying to study with an internet connection that is probably just as sketchy as the cell phone signal here.
"We were going to have a working honeymoon and bring La Belle Pêche back to life, filling it with warmth and love and, eventually, children. We were going to be a family... Well," he looks up at me, his expression grim and a bit self-deprecating. "That was what I thought we were going to do. Apparently, that was never Iris's dream. She was hoping to fix the place up and sell it and all the antiques in it for a massive profit. She wanted to tour the world and visit exotic places and finally settle down somewhere modern and fast-paced where she could pursue her planned career in the finance sector. She had no interest in the farm. I really don't know why she married an agricultural student..."
Grimacing at recalling memories he is clearly not enjoying, he shrugs and gets to his feet, mug in hand. Time for a fresh cup, I suppose. I hand him my empty mug as well when he asks if I would like some coffee. The milk had done wonders to calm my nerves and to help me settle down, but it was the mention of the word wife that made me go completely limp. I could use some coffee.
So, I take it he is not married anymore or... Golly, will he just tell me already and get on with it? I really want to know if he is still married or not... I mean... I really want to know who the 'they' in his story referred to. It sounded rather ominous, and when I ignore the frightening word 'wife', the word 'they' is really freaking me out.
I'm about to send him a homing pigeon carrying a note requesting more information when he finally stops fussing with the kettle, mugs, spoons, sugar, and stuff and takes a deep breath. I look at his face, and his eyes have become dark and haunted.
I'm a horrible person! This is clearly not easy for him to talk about. I should tell him it's okay; he can just jump to the 'who are they' part of the story... I don't need to know about his love life.
"The first couple of days here were awesome. It was everything I'd dreamed it would be. We explored rooms, found treasures, had romantic dinners and just enjoyed being together, talking, playing..."
Honestly! He can skip to the end now! I don't need to hear about him and Wifey braiding each other's hair! Yes, I'm a horrible person; we've already established that. I've just met the man; I'm being ridiculous, feeling all jealous like this.
"It was really great... then one night we had a lovely candle-lit dinner, as usual. Everything was sweet and romantic and filled with love. We went up to our room..."
Now, he's just being cruel! Seriously, he can skip ahead; I don't need to hear the gory lovey-dovey details!
"We got into our bed and woke up the next day feeling headachy and irritable."
Okay! That story changed moods pretty fast!
"This happened night after night. I was starting to feel exhausted because I'd work in the orchard or in the house and didn't feel like I was getting any real rest at night, despite the fact that I was out like a light as soon as my head touched the pillow."
So much for romance... No, I'm not happy... I'm really not; it's impossible for me to be happy when the source of joy is clearly bringing someone else so much pain.
"Iris wasn't that lucky. She had vivid nightmares. She could never quite remember them in the morning, but she swore that as soon as we got into bed, I would just disappear on her. Physically, I was there, but I wasn't responding at all, and she heard voices and things moving around. She was terrified, and I was just out."
That does not sound good at all!
"Were there crows involved and disappearing rooms?"
David shakes his head, grabbing the kettle when it boils. I wait while he pours water into our mugs and gets our coffee ready. He finally hands me mine and takes his seat again, just around the corner from mine.
"I don't really know what exactly it was that scared her so much," he says, giving me an extremely sad look. "She was just terrified all the time, talking about 'they' and 'them' as if there were actual people harassing her. It wasn't going well; her mental health was deteriorating extremely fast, and I feared for her safety. We were in the process of making plans for us to leave and go live somewhere else when she just suddenly packed up and left.
"I came home from tending some of the trees, and she was gone. The only sign that she'd ever been here was a note on this island," he says, tapping a finger on the stone surface next to his mug. The look on his face is breaking my heart. It must've been devastating; they'd barely been married.
"The note had just one line. 'They don't want me here.'"
Creepy!
I shift uncomfortably, peering around us at the shadowy corners of the kitchen, remembering my name being whispered, a shoe grinding on dust... crows attacking me. Until tonight, I didn't really feel threatened, just confused and afraid of what I'll get up to next in my sleep. I don't feel threatened by anything or anybody specific, mostly just by my own imagination.
"Of course, I left too, and it took some effort and time to track her down, but I found her. She wanted nothing more to do with me, but I finally managed to get her to at least see me and talk to me. That was when she told me that her dreams were very different from mine.
"Her dreams did not involve a farm and children and all the 'fuzzy warm things', as she called them, that I long for. I thought that it might've been her bad experience here that caused her to say those things and that love might be enough. I thought we could find a compromise that had bits of both of our dreams in it and try to make it work.
"But honestly, I felt betrayed, especially when I began to realise that the house had nothing to do with the contrast in our dreams. She'd lied to me all the time we'd been dating. Why would she do that? I never forced her to accept my ideals; she simply never told me that she didn't want any of that. In fact, she always acted enthusiastic about it.
"Still, we tried, but it was not working at all. We were too different in all the ways where we shouldn't be different. Eventually, I realised that I was in love with someone that didn't even exist. I still don't understand why she pretended to be someone she's not and why I never saw it. My grandfather tried to warn me, and so did my friends, but I was so in love with the idea of her I had in my head that I didn't listen to them at all."
David gives me a self-mocking smile, and I watch him sip his coffee as if he's trying to perk himself up. Now I miss the moment when I thought he had a family to go home to. Those were happier thoughts. This is not fair to him at all.
"It ended. We had a quick divorce. Neither of us owned anything, so there was nothing to have any conflict about... not even a pet. It was just over. For a long time, I couldn't bring myself to come back to the farm." David takes a biscuit from the tin and stares at it as if he can see his past carved into its caramel-brown surface.
"I concentrated on finishing my studies, and since last year, I've been working in the orchard on and off, trying to save the trees that are left and get new ones growing. The farmer who rented from my grandfather left over 30 years ago, and the orchard has been left to rot.
"At first, I was going to get it up and running and sell the place, use the profit to buy a farm somewhere else, but I've started to feel that pull again. This is my home; this is where I belong. There's a lot of work, but I want this. I've never been afraid here. I hate that Iris was so scared here..."
"Perhaps she felt guilty because she was misleading you. She obviously loved you too because you were included in her travel plans, right?"
"Right..."
"So, maybe she felt guilty about not being honest with you, and that translated into other things. This place is big on playing with people's imagination and feeding their fears."
David is watching me with a thoughtful expression on his face, clearly mesmerized by my extraordinary insight and wisdom... or he just appreciates my effort to help him feel a little better. He finally gives me a slight smile. "I hate that you are scared too. I wish you could see this place through my eyes, Belle."
I'm feeling terrible now about my petty jealousy. He did not deserve to be hurt like that. Did the girl see money floating around his head while she dreamed about selling his family land, which is clearly precious to him and then spending that money on her own dreams?
The idea is making me feel sick.
The woman was an idiot to let someone like him slip through her fingers. If he were mine...
Oh, my word, what am I doing now?! I shake my head to get rid of what-ifs and if-onlies and concentrate on the forlorn look on David's face.
"David, I can see the potential of this place; I believe that you are going to be very happy here once you've restored it to its former glory. You'll have that wife and children and warm and fuzzy things. It's going to be awesome," I smile, looking into his eyes, willing him to believe me. "I think that if it hadn't been raining and the power was on... and I didn't have a smooch session with maggots upon my arrival and then had my luggage try to eat me, I would have loved La Belle Pêche at first sight... maybe... second sight... probably..."
David chuckles, reaching out to squeeze my hand, and now I'm the warm and fuzzy thing in this room.
"I also know that if that room didn't disappear on me and I didn't get up to strange things in my sleep, and this storm didn't play tricks on my mind, I would've been happily painting here for my evaluation. I love that solarium. Well, I did until I painted the man I saw coming from the sea, more dead than alive."
That had been frightening. Nobody could survive with wounds like that, and he had a kind of desperation about him as if he refused to die before reaching his destination. It will haunt me forever. Unlike other dreams that slip away the moment you wake up, that one remains very clearly imprinted in my mind.
"Oh! And fun fact, I signed the painting with Belle."
David gives me an uncomprehending look and, shrugging, takes a sip of his coffee. "Maybe you remembered your name even though you were asleep."
"No," I've been ignoring this little titbit since I saw it, but it's been nagging at the back of my mind the entire time and will not be ignored any longer. "I never sign my paintings with Belle; I sign mine with LE."
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