A Secret Ambition

XXVII

"An unbelieved truth can hurt a man much more than a lie. It takes great courage to back truth unacceptable to our times. There's a punishment for it, and it's usually crucifixion." John Steinbeck, East of Eden

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XXVII.

Callan blinked again several times, and yet Lily did not disappear from before him. In fact, the driver stepped down from the top of the hackney to let her out, and Lily paid him before he drove off, leaving her standing before him.

She was more beautiful than he remembered. Her face was as flawless as porcelain, and yet her eyes were glassy and fearful. It was the look in her eyes that unsettled Callan and distracted him from his awe in seeing her again. Had she not appeared that way, he might have begun fantasising about taking her in his arms and never letting her go.

Callan had never thought that he would see her again, after all. But nothing good ever happened to him, and he would be damned if his poor fortune harmed those around him. Why was Lily afraid? Was that why she was here? Had she come to him for help?

"I ... I am sorry to arrive like this ... unannounced." It was Lily who spoke first, and the moment that she did, Callan cursed himself that it had not been him to be the one to find his words.

She was frightened and he wanted to ... Callan knew that he wanted to hold on to her. She had come back to him and he needed to hold on to her.

"Come in," he managed to say, and in far gruffer a tone than he had intended. Lily nodded in response and Callan held the door open for her. As she passed him, he caught the scent of her hair and it about knocked him unconscious. Such was the powerful memory.

The moment Lily was inside, Callan shut the door, before he watched Lily stand with her back to him as she looked over what had been her desk. It was exactly as she had left it. It, perhaps, was the only neat and tidy surface in the office. Callan had not touched it since she had resigned. He now realised he had not been able to.

Though she had her back to him, Callan couldn't quite put his finger on what was different about Lily. Save for the fact that she was frightened, and Callan was treading as though she was a rabbit about to be spooked away at the slightest noise. Was it her hair? Her dark tendrils were all twisted and curled in a much fancier way then she ever wore it when she had worked for him. She was dressed differently, too, he supposed. Plainly, but well.

"Is Mr Maguire upstairs?" Lily's back remained to Callan.

"Fionn's out servicing his stomach like usual," Callan murmured in reply, before he dared utter, "Won't you look at me?"

By the rise and fall of Lily's shoulders, Callan could see that her breaths were quite shaky. His own chest clenched at the sight and he reached out his hand to her before dropping it. He didn't know if she wanted his comfort. And he didn't know if he would be able to cope with her rejection if she did not.

But Lily did turn to face him. She turned her body slowly and Callan was quite taken aback by the turmoil that had only grown on her face. She was positively being torn apart and was on the verge of tears. In fact, upon closer inspection of her eyes, he could see that she had already been crying.

Callan's stomach was in immediate knots as he saw just how anxious Lily was. There was undeniable pain in her, and Callan yearned to take it from her. It frightened him, really, at the sudden urge he had to take her troubles from her. But he would take them. Whatever her burdens, he wanted them. He couldn't bear to see her like this. No matter what had transpired between them. No matter if she declared that she felt nothing for him, that did not change how Callan felt, and what he would do for her.