Most of this time, Fiona giggled.
Bella and Sally packed a lunch and they went to the beach.
At the beach, Sally behaved like she always behaved even though Prentice took the children to the beach often both when Fiona was alive and after she died. In other words, like she’d been living in a cell her entire life and was only going to be let out for that one glorious day.
Bella kept up with her, as well as sat with Jason who’d brought along Fiona’s guitar and Fiona could say (with some pride) that she gave her son more than his hair, he was getting very good with the guitar and, the way he practiced (which was all the time, just like Fiona had) he was going to be great, and taught him some more chords.
At Jason’s insistence, Bella also played while Prentice and the kids watched. She was nervous and it took her time to settle in but, once she did, it was good.
Prentice was impressed and didn’t hide it.
Jason just smiled.
Bella, it was clear to see, was both pleased and embarrassed by the male Camerons’ reactions.
Sally was adamant that she was getting her own guitar and Bella was going to teach her to play it when she got her cast off.
They had lunch. They horsed around. They walked the beach and its cliff path, Prentice and Bella hand-in-hand, Jason going ahead on his own, Sally running back and forth, tiring herself out (Fiona’s daughter would sleep like a log that night, for certain).
They went home and it was all a go, sorting the spent picnic, making dinner, getting ready for school the next day as Sally was returning after her accident.
Bella had no time to think, she was kept busy all day.
Prentice, Fiona thought, was a genius.
Sally crashed within Bella reading two pages of her book.
Jason didn’t long follow.
Prentice was walking down the stairs after checking on the children when it happened.
Fiona was floating by Bella as she tiredly made herself some nighttime herbal tea.
She had her hand curled around the mug, holding the teabag string against the side, when she missed the mug and poured boiling water over her hand. She cried out in pain and set the kettle down with a clatter.
Prentice was there in a trice.
He got close. “Jesus, baby, what’d you do?”
“I poured…” she stopped and cried, “Ouch!”
“Get to the sink,” Prentice ordered, hustling her to the sink, he shoved her hand under and turned on the cold tap.
She held her hand under the tap as Prentice went to get ice. He returned and, front to her back, he reached his arms around her and held the ice to the angry red marks on Bella’s hand under the tap.
Fiona hovered close.
With his head dipped so his cheek was close to hers, he moved the ice around her fingers and whispered, “The burn is still working through, baby, we need to stop it. The ice won’t feel good but we need to keep it on there.”
“Okay,” Bella whispered back, her voice pinched with pain.
It took awhile before he noticed. The angry red marks were taking his attention from the calloused white marks in her palms.
But he noticed.
And Fiona noticed when he noticed because she watched as his body grew completely still.
Bella, tired and mind fogged with the pain, didn’t notice. He had actually uncurled her fingers with his thumb and tipped her palm up before Bella realized what he was about.
When he saw the marks, Prentice’s inhalation was a sharp hiss.
Instantly, Bella curled her hand in a fist and her body jerked to the side, seeking escape.
She was in a disadvantageous position with his arms around her, his body close; she had no hope of getting away.
And she didn’t.
He stepped in, pinning her against the sink, his arms locking at her sides, his thumb worked her fingers to open her fist.
Her body gave in but her hand resisted. The burn meant this caused undue pain. When she emitted a muted whimper, Prentice stopped.
Fiona would have held her breath if she had any.
Instead, she did the only thing she could do.
She hovered.
His voice was soft when he ordered, “Show me.”
Bella’s reply was immediate, “Step back.”
“Show me, baby.”
Her hand still a fist, she said in a tone that, though it was firm, fear threaded through it, “Prentice… step… back!”
His other hand circled her other wrist, he pulled both her fisted hands in front of them and his voice was an absolute, wretched ache when he demanded, “Show me.”
Fiona watched the tears hit Bella’s eyes and tremble at their edges.
“I don’t want you to see,” she whispered, her tone just as heartbreaking.
“Show me.”
“You’ll think –”
“Show me, Elle.”
“But –”
His hands at her wrists gave hers a gentle shake and he whispered, “Show me, baby.”
She closed her eyes and Fiona saw the tears drop silently down her cheeks.
Then she opened them and her fists and Fiona saw she held her breath.
Prentice stared at her hands.
Then his jaw got tight and he closed his eyes.
When he opened them, he ran his thumbs gently along the white marks and muttered tenderly, “Baby.”
Bella’s head dropped forward in a sad expression of humiliation and defeat.
Prentice’s mouth went to her ear.
“You didn’t have these before,” he whispered but she didn’t reply. “Elle, answer me. You didn’t have these twenty years ago. Please, tell me I didn’t fucking miss this.”
“I didn’t have them,” she replied to the sink. “I started to…” she stopped. “Later. After you,” she drew in a breath and whispered, “it started when I lost you.”
Fiona didn’t know if that was what he wanted to hear or not and she couldn’t tell because he shoved his face in her neck and, taking her hands with his still at her wrists, he wrapped his arms tightly around her middle.
Bella’s head came up and Fiona could see she was still crying.
“They’re mine,” Prentice said to her neck.
Bella’s body twitched and her face went blank.
“What?” she breathed.
His mouth went back to her ear and his voice was tortured when he said, “They’re mine. My responsibility.”
Fiona felt a heavy weight hit her ghostly chest.
Bella felt the same. Fiona could see it with a look.
“What do you mean?” Bella whispered.
“You’d no’ have these marks, you’d no’ carry this pain if I’d no’ walked out of that fucking room.”
“Prentice, you can’t –”
She stopped speaking when he shook her with his hands at her wrists.
“You’d no’,” he growled fiercely.
“Pren,” she whispered softly.
“No.”
“I can’t have you thinking –”
“No.”
“Pren, please.”
“No. There would be no dreams, I’d have seen to that. Your father would no’ be in our lives. And you’d have had your fucking family, I would see to that too. I don’t give a fuck if we adopted or I had to buy you a family. I would have done it, whatever you wanted, to make you happy. Whatever you wanted, Elle. Anything. I’d have done whatever it took in order to give it to you. That’s how much I loved you.”
“Stop talking.”
“But I didn’t, I walked out of that room.”
“Prentice, stop talking.”
“I turned around and walked away. I didn’t even fucking call you.”
“Don’t do this to yourself, it wasn’t your fault.”