Page 168 of Eternal Craving

“Stay with me tonight.” He clutched my sleeve.

I pulled away and sauntered out of the room. Now, without a shadow of doubt, I knew he posed no threat to us. Sunaria had been wrong but convincing her Marcus and Rachel were our allies still felt like an impossible task.

The following night, I returned to Petherton Road.

I wanted my son.

Standing across the street from the doctor’s house, lingering in the alleyway, I felt overjoyed to be close to Jacob again. After an hour of keeping watch, waiting for the opportune moment, the door opened and Jacob appeared, dressed in a woolen coat. The doctor followed him out. Hand in hand, they headed down Petherton Road and took a sharp turn on Flower Avenue. Feeling envious of the doctor, I wanted to sweep Jacob up into my arms.

Savoring every second, I followed them across town, now and again pulling back so as not to arouse suspicion. Jacob’s Englishaccent was flawless. There remained no evidence of his Spanish beginnings. I wondered if he had any memory of me.

His mentor showed kindness, slowing his pace so that Jacob could keep up with his master’s strides. After half an hour of walking, they reached a shack, and the doctor disappeared inside. Jacob paused for a moment and then turned and stared in my direction. Although I stood out of his line of sight, he did appear to detect me before going inside.

Feeling torn, my resolve wavered. The sky opened up and it began pouring rain.

Perhaps I’d imagined it – my need for my son to know me being so great that my mind believed that he’d sensed my presence.

I turned on my heel and strode the opposite way, unable to go through with it. Strange that we can be right next to the ones we love, and yet they still seem like a million miles away.

I headed home.

Although long gone from my own life, I wanted normalcy for Jacob. Putting my own needs aside, I had to consider his.

My arms ached for him.

Back in Belshazzar’s, standing in the lounge before a roaring fireplace, I lost myself in the orange glow. My clothes were soaked through and clung to my wet skin, making me feel even more miserable.

I finally realized Sunaria was in the room. I wasn’t sure how long she had been standing behind me.

“I’m going to start a trust fund for him,” I said at last.

In silence, Sunaria undressed me, starting with my drenched shirt. A log slipped in the grate and sparks sprayed around it.

Naked now, the warmth of the fire reached my bones. She guided me into the drawing room where a hot bath had been prepared, and I climbed into the tub.

The water rose high, trickling over the edges. With a glazed stare, I examined the marble mantelpiece. Upon it rested a maple clock, the tick tock of time so sure, so perfect, and so irrevocable.

The only noise in the room harassed me with its relentless progression.

Sunaria climbed in with me, lying between my legs, her fine, red negligee floating to the surface and billowing. I rested my head back onto the edge of the tub and stared up at the ceiling.

“You have nothing to forgive yourself for,” Sunaria whispered.

I burst into tears, wishing there were some way to stem the agony I was feeling.

Chapter Fifty-Three

Snow fell, blanketing the London skyline in a perfect powdery whiteness.

It felt good to be indoors. The lit fireplace warmed the study. An array of books lined the shelves, and I stood back to admire them. I’d selected the finest publications, covering many diverse subjects. Such a collection would make any scholar ecstatic. I held on to the hope that Jacob would soon be whiling away the hours in here, and I’d have him all to myself. Thinking back to my own childhood, I remembered my father and the tales he’d tell.

When the right time came, I’d bring Jacob here. With a deep sigh, I strolled into the adjacent study, this room above all was easily my favorite. I hoped it would become Jacob’s. I’d procured a large oak writing table for him and placed it in the center, taking great pleasure in organizing paper, ink, and a feathered fountain pen, essential items to make him feel at home. Finding one of my ornate letter openers, I placed it near the other items.

Long, sweeping black drapes hung from the tall window. Looking out past them, I viewed the muggy, grey nightscape of London’s skyline. Running my fingers over the mahoganymantelpiece and along the engraved design, I admired the ornate carving that was the room’s focal point, chiseled by one of the city’s finest carpenters.

Although I’d not played the violin in months, the notes struck up inside my imagination. Not fighting the flow, I allowed the music to carry me away. Indulging in my imagination, haunted by the promise of spending time with Jacob, my mind drifted.

I left the room and descended the sweeping staircase. The vastness of Belshazzar’s meant that I could go for days and not see anyone. I seemed to be the only one who enjoyed the vastness of the manor. On many an evening, I strolled along the pitch-black corridors, my cloak sweeping behind me, lost in memories and captured by possibilities.