Chapter 76

Ardal

“Welcome to Chateau Ardal.”

Jack and I are standing together on the front porch as the moon rises in the sky.

I swallow nervously as phantom censors of my conscience reprimand me for bringing a man home overnight with my kids present.

Their voices of judgment become louder and harsher until I angrily shake them away, sending them flying - their pearls still clutched tight.

Jack's face is even more swollen, and the bruising across his face and neck are now beginning to show - more damning evidence of Kadeem's barbarous attack.

Part of me feels a twinge of responsibility for what happened, as if I had thrown the punch myself. In an effort to assuage my guilt, I want to do something to help him recover - even if it isn't really my fault.

Jack takes my hand and smiles at me. I take a breath, anticipating the flurry of wild excitement and questions from the kids.

We open the door and five six year-olds in pajamas are waiting for us. Their frenzied shrieks of glee pierce our ears.

“Mommy!”

“Doctor Jack?!”

“What are you doing here,” they screech, tiny hands yanking on him while he laughs and winces with pain simultaneously.

“Are you hurt,” Lottie asks sadly, looking up at him with wide-eyes.

“Oh, I’m alright,” he says. “I’ll tell you what happened if you’d like?”

“Yes!” Her face brightens instantly.

I express my gratitude to Hannah before she slips out the door, a merciful reprieve from her unspoken judgment.

“I was in a terrible fight,” Jack says, waving his hands theatrically. “Against a very mean, very large Werewolf.”

I try not to giggle as I watch. He strides around the living room with his arms outstretched, adopting a markedly melodramatic tone. All that's missing is a spotlight up on the imaginary stage.

The kids are eating it up. They shiver and "ooh," their eyes as wide as saucers.

“What happened,” Silas asks excitedly.

“The very mean Were wanted to stop your mommy and me from loving each other.”

I blush fiercely at his choice of words and Ezra looks back at me questionably, but I just bite my tongue and wink at him, reminding myself this is the off-off-off Broadway rendition of things.

“Oh no,” Lottie cries out.

“Oh yes,” Jack insists dramatically. “And he threatened me and he insulted your mommy, so I realized in an instant, although he was very big, and very strong, I would have to fight him.”

He pauses for effect, while the kids wait on-edge, breath bated.

“So I swung and punched, landing a heavy blow," Jack explains enthusiastically, punching the air with his fists. "But then before I knew it – he came flying back at me!”

The kids gasp and I shake my head in amusement.

"And then I blocked his attack and kicked him away with all my might," he continues, pantomiming every motion fervently. "A kick so hard it sent him reeling over."

"Did you win the fight then," Milo asks with wonderment.

"Yes, I did," Jack concludes, dropping his theatrical bent and smiling fondly as he ruffles Milo's hair. "And now I'm battered but alright – which proves it was all worth it."

Erbao stares intently at me with a skeptical eyebrow raised: "Is this really true?"

"It's a fairly accurate adaptation," I reply, trying hard not to laugh again. "Now then everyone - time for bed!

Of course, getting rambunctious six year-olds to sleep is never easy, but eventually I manage and collapse into bed next to Jack.

"Ahh, this feels so nice," he says, gazing into my eyes. There's an eagerness in his voice that makes me feel uneasy, yet excited at the same time. It's a scene of domestic bliss I never thought I'd have.

My throat tightens as a question edges up in my throat. I avert my eyes and nervously twist a strand of hair around my finger. "It doesn't scare you off," I ask.

Gently, he lifts my chin. “Absolutely not." He quickly closes the gap between us, our lips meeting in a kiss. It's soft at first, but then the kiss deepens.

Suddenly, I feel him tense. "Ouch," he yelps, pulling away.

"Oh God, did I hurt you?" My eyes search him for signs of further damage. I find none, but his bottom lip is swollen and tender-looking. "I'm sorry," I say sheepishly. "I got carried away."

“It’s okay,” he says, mustering a smile. “It was worth it... Should we try again, maybe?" He arches an eyebrow suggestively.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Just try to go a little easy," he says, sweeping my hair back, and then letting his hands trail down to my breasts.

Gingerly, he kisses and caresses me, and I fight to hold back, cramming in the intensity I feel into soft, nearly teasing levels of touch, until neither of us can fight it anymore.

He begins to climb over to mount me, but as he does, he presses his hands on either side of me to prop himself up.

"Ow, ow, ow," he yells suddenly, quickly rolling off of me and falling onto the bed, teeth gritted in pain.

"Everything hurts," he says. My hands - my arms - my ass - everything."

I laugh softly. "There's a solution, you know."

"What," he says. "Narcotics? I don't have any on hand, do you?" He throws me a wry smile.

"Thought you could write your own scripts," I say, chuckling.

He sighs and stares up at the ceiling. "Don't think the DEA will go too kindly on me for that."

With a coy grin, I slowly wrap my fingers around his rigid manhood. He shudders and a gasp escapes his lips. "It's so much simpler this way," I say.

His voice is breathy. "Show me what you mean."

His hips move in sync with me as I stroke up and down the length of his shaft.

He relaxes, lustful moans emanating from the depths of his throat as he ruts gratefully into me.

His breath begins to come out in quick little puffs, and I begin to lean over to take him into my mouth, but before I can, he grabs my hand, guiding it until we find the rhythm he wants.

I jerk him fast until he groans and cums, his body trembling with each spasm of pleasure. I feel the warm liquid flooding my hand and caress his skin as he slowly returns to reality.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before turning to me with a satisfied grin. "I think we just found the perfect way for me to heal."

He's a beautiful, beaten-up, blond haired, blue-eyed angel laying in my bed, but the same hollow emptiness fills me. It's a heavy, suffocating void that makes me anxious and restless as much as it makes me sad.

Jack seems to detect it this time, as his eyes lock with mine.

"Glad you feel better," I say, with a forced smile.

"I'll just get cleaned up," he says, sitting up. "Then it's your turn."

"No, no," I say, peering at his gauze-wrapped fingers, swollen lip, and bruised jaw as he gets up to head into the bathroom. "You're hurt."

A muffled laugh echoes from inside. "Yeah, sure," he says. "But I'm willing to bet there might be vibrator around here somewhere."

My face burns red hot. "Uh, yeah...maybe?" I stammer out, wringing my hands together nervously. "But I just want to sleep, okay?"

The sound of running water stops and he steps back into the room, pulling his underwear up before exhaling heavily.

Jack's gaze flicks over me painfully for a moment before he finally speaks. "Ardal," he says quietly, "Sometimes I get the feeling you're... sort of forcing yourself to be with me."

His eyes are filled with nervous trepidation and my heart sinks.

I gulp. I don't want to hurt him, but he's looking at me so intently - he'll be able to see right through me if I lie.

"It's just... It's a little hard for me, that's all," I say, my fingers trembling as they interlock together. "You're the first person I've been with since..."

Jack closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before sitting at the edge of the bed. "Since your ex-husband." His voice is grim in the darkness.

"He's actually the only one I was ever with," I say. A hollow ache pierces me as I remember when Kadeem and I first met. I envision his youthful face and his dark brown eyes. "He was my first date. My first - and last - everything."

I curl my legs in and wrap my arms around them tightly, pulling the weight of my body against my chest, as if to dull the pang of the heartache radiating through me.

"I see," he says. "It must be very hard for you."

I look back up at him. There's a painful understanding in his eyes. The anguish and the mercy on his face almost undoes me.

A passing car and the whoosh of the box fan in the corner of my room are the only sounds as we sit in a melancholy silence.

Finally, Jack turns to me. "Are you able," he says, "To let your past go?"

My heart somersaults and I sense a deep-seated trepidation inside of me answer with a resounding, 'No.'

"I need to," I choke out. "I'm trying. I really am." Then, the tears began to come.

"Ah, Ardal," Jack says, kissing the top of my forehead. "There's a whole world of wonder waiting for us, if you can just have the courage to see it."

He stands abruptly, as though suddenly energized. "I was like you once," he says, looking away from me, at the wall ahead of us where a print hangs of snow capped mountains in the North - lush forest beneath its peaks where my wolf longs to roam.

But I’ve never been there. Never felt its wild beauty. One of many dreams left unlived while I’ve played the role of life and mom.

"I was clinging to the past for way too long - until life shoved me into motion. It has a way of doing that you know." He turns back to me and smiles wryly.

"I know it's almost a cruelty to say it, but this with Erbao, may be an opportunity for you - and your family - to start anew - a thrilling journey!"

Rage rises inside of me like boiling magma. "How the hell is this an adventure, Jack?"

He sits down on the bed and leans close, pressing his hand softly against my cheek.

"Because sometimes, we have to be forced out of our comfort zones, Ardal. We change - or we die. That's really the only way we ever transform."

Maybe his words are lies wrapped in truths to disguise them. I'm afraid of his proposition and appeals are glistening, false promises - poison apples to seal my fate.

But is the dread I feel only my own self-imposed anxiety, trapping me with its whispery lies? Keeping me stagnant? Stopping me from growing and changing?

I stare off into the mountains on my wall. A photograph, enclosed in glass.