He went to his rooms and took a shower, dressed and woke the children with a word of warning that Elle was still sleeping and they needed to be quiet so as not to wake her.
Even Sally complied with his command.
As he made his children porridge, he thought of the three days since they had their scene in his study.
He’d seen her frequently. At breakfast. During dinner. In the evenings.
He’d spoken to her infrequently.
Their picture in a gossip magazine had whetted the villagers’ appetites. The house was treated to the constant comings and goings of friends and acquaintances who said they wanted to see how Sally was doing (and they likely did). Mostly, however, they wanted to see what was going on with Prentice and Isabella after their very quick, very public and very short reconciliation ended in an unexplained three week absence that put Prentice (and Jason) in very bad moods.
They were disappointed. Elle was a gracious hostess but her focus was the children, Sally’s health, Jason’s studies, their dinner, their scheduled bedtimes.
So focused was she, she had no time to focus on Prentice.
As for Prentice, he had a deadline to make and the doorbell going every fifteen minutes didn’t help.
Yesterday, he’d called Isabella and left a voicemail on her mobile telling her that he needed to work late.
She’d called him back but he’d missed the call. When he checked his voicemail, he heard her voice.
Something about hearing her voice leaving a message made him lose concentration. He didn’t hear a f**king word she said.
He just listened to the sound of her voice leaving him a voicemail like she did it every day.
That warmth hit his gut and this time it was far stronger, nearly enough to knock him to his knees.
After he got over acting like a fifteen year old boy with a f**king crush, he replayed the message and listened to her speak.
“Prentice? It’s Isabella. I got your message. Listen, I’m sorry but there was a photographer in the village today. He took photos of me and Sally. I got away as quickly as I could. I…” She hesitated then rushed on, “I just thought you’d want to know. See you later.”
Unfortunately, if he wanted to feed his children that “later” needed to be much later for, as much as he wanted to be home and not only eat her food but see her in his kitchen cooking it, he had to work.
He’d come home to a light outside, a light in the vestibule and a lamp lit in the great room, all indicating that Elle had again illuminated his way.
When he had them all off and the house secured for the night (something he never did, until he saw his son’s photograph in a gossip magazine, they lived remote at the end of a winding one lane road you’d have to really want to drive up), he’d seen the dim light and heard the hushed sounds of the television in Elle’s rooms.
He thought she was awake, watching television.
And he knew he shouldn’t go to her.
He was f**king overjoyed he went.
“Why’s Miss Bella asleep?” Sally asked on a loud whisper as Prentice put her bowl of porridge in front of her.
“Because she’s tired?” Jason replied to his sister sarcastically.
“Jason,” Prentice warned.
“But she’s always awake,” Sally countered, ignoring Prentice and unaffected as ever by her brother’s sarcasm.
“She needs her sleep, baby,” Prentice said. “She’s been very busy and she’s very tired.”
“Tired like spending the day at the beach tired?” Sally asked.
“Even more,” Prentice answered.
Sally’s eyes got big and she breathed, “That’s tired.”
He smiled at his daughter before he said, “This morning you’re coming to work with me. We’ll let Elle sleep in. I’ll bring you back later.”
Sally tucked into her porridge and replied brightly, “Okay.”
Prentice watched his daughter and wished his life was that simple.
Unfortunately, it was not.
Jason made a noise and Prentice’s eyes moved to his son. When they did, he noted immediately that Jason had something weighty on his mind.
Uncharacteristically, Jason didn’t delay in sharing what was weighing on his mind.
“How long is Miss Bella staying this time?” Jason asked his porridge.
Clear evidence that his life was not simple.
Prentice made a decision.
“You can call her Elle,” he told Jason and Jason’s head shot up.
“Hurrah!” Sally cheered.
“Be quiet, baby,” Prentice gently admonished his daughter.
“Hurrah,” Sally whispered, grinning huge.
Prentice looked at his son. His head was bent to his porridge.
But he was also grinning.
Looking at his son, Prentice changed his mind.
Maybe life was that simple.
Chapter Thirteen
All of It I Carry Safe
Fiona
Fiona floated behind Bella as Bella paced the great room.
And as Fiona floated, she giggled.
Bella was cross.
Very cross.
Fiona thought it was hilarious.
After Prentice came home last night and headed to the guest suite, Fiona followed him.
The minute he crossed the threshold to the room and Fiona would have floated after him, she’d popped right back to her tent by the stream.
She knew what that meant.
At the current stage in Prentice and Bella’s game, Fiona found this surprising (and heartbreaking, but only for Fiona, still, she didn’t go there).
Nevertheless, after she had a good night’s sleep, the next morning she was wandering down to the stream when she popped back into the bedroom of the guest suite.
It was morning. Bella was sleeping in bed.
Prentice was standing beside it, wearing just his jeans, watching her.
Then Fiona watched Prentice get dressed, go to Bella’s handbag, pocket her passport, then go to her wardrobe and grab her luggage. She floated after him as he carried it out to the Range Rover. After tossing it in, he walked back into the house.
Fiona stayed outside, staring at Bella’s empty luggage in the back of Prentice’s 4x4. Then she burst out laughing.
Prentice got the kids ready and out of the house and Fiona went to Bella’s room, wiling the morning away reading the rest of her journals.
By the time she was done, she was shedding ghostly tears again.
Seriously, Bella’s father was a tosser.
And that ex-husband of hers? There were no words to describe what he was.
She was still holding the journal when Bella moved.
Quickly putting the journal back and arranging it in Bella’s exacting way, she looked to the bed.