Читать книгу Footprints in the Sand - Eleanor Jones - Страница 15

CHAPTER EIGHT

I FELT AS IF I WAS IN A dream. Bryn was here, my Bryn, the only person in the whole wide world I truly cared for, and who truly cared for me. A feeling of safety washed over me as he closed his fingers around mine. I was home at last, and now I could make him proud.

A plump-cheeked, kind-eyed woman stood on the steps and called out to me. “I see that you already know someone here, Elsa. Perhaps he can show you around.” I glanced at Bryn, my cheeks burning.

“I’d be glad to,” he said with a smile.

Oh, how well I remembered that easygoing smile. What was he doing here? Why had no one told me? So many questions jostled inside my head but only one thing really mattered. Bryn really was here. At last, I had found him.

I didn’t notice, at first, how much he’d changed. I couldn’t see any further than the comfort of his friendly brown eyes. His essence filled my soul and made me whole. Did he feel like that, too? Or was it just sad and lonely me? Then I really looked at him, and for a moment I saw a stranger.

His shoulders were broader, his voice had deepened and he no longer rubbed his nose across his sleeve. I moved away from him, suddenly nervous around this confident, handsome young man. But then my eyes met his again, and I saw the same kind, open expression I remembered so well. I knew, with no shadow of a doubt, that however much he’d grown, he was still my Bryn.

That was when the warning bells began to ring inside my head. Stay back, keep your distance. Because everyone I loved went away. My father, Daffyd, Mrs. Mac...even Bryn. But he had come back to me, and I didn’t want to lose him again. I hadn’t needed those warning bells for three years because I hadn’t gotten close to anyone else. Now the ferocity of my feelings scared me. I felt the knot of anger press against my rib cage, like an alien being clawing at me. I pulled my hand away from him, and I saw the disappointment in his eyes.

“Come on,” he said, his voice determinedly bright. “I’ll show you my rabbit. He’s almost ready to be set free.”

I felt as if I had been set free. And now I had to prove myself.

I wanted to ask about the rabbit. I wanted to ask if Bryn had a yellow dog yet. I wanted to ask if he was happy, but I said nothing.

At Braymore, I’d been quiet. I’d kept to myself, speaking only when spoken to and getting on with my work, independent and self-assured. Suddenly, I was six years old again. What had they labeled me then? Disturbed and antisocial? I felt all of that now, and more.

“Come on,” Bryn repeated, holding out his hand. It was just like that first day at Appletree, when he asked if I wanted to have ice cream with him. I didn’t take his hand then, and I couldn’t take it now, so I followed him, just like before.

“You can sit beside me if you like.” He smiled, remembering.

From the outside, the shed looked as if it was about to fall down. The door swung on crooked hinges, and it creaked when Bryn opened it. I held back, suddenly unsure, but he urged me forward.