Enthralled: Tainted Book Four

10. Silly Old Man

Tara

When John and I reached Clem's house, the old place loomed like a relic from another era, which, I supposed, was exactly what it was. The door creaked open before we even knocked, and Amanda stood there, a black-haired woman with the kind of grace that seemed better suited to a ballroom than a front porch. Her eyes, wide and gray, flickered with a mix of curiosity and something else.

"John, Tara," she greeted us with a smile that felt like it belonged to someone who wasn't entirely sure smiles were still in fashion. "I'm happy to see you."

We stepped inside, and I couldn't help but notice how she moved, slowly, like she was testing her limbs, as if even the act of walking was something she had to relearn. The house smelled of fresh polish and old wood, with the kind of silence that made you feel like you were intruding on something ancient.

"Clem out?" John asked in his usual flat monotone.

"Yes," she said, smoothing her hand over her slightly rounded belly, as if she needed to remind herself it was there. "He's in and out quite frequently, actually. Just this morning, the Council sent a boy to fetch him for something since the silly old man won't answer his phone most of the time. You'd think he would have improved his communication skills in two hundred years."

"He honed other skills," John commented dryly.

We followed her into the parlor, where the curtains were wide open, showing off the morning sun, giving the room a warm, almost golden hue. The old-school furniture made me feel like I was stepping back in time. Amanda gestured for us to sit, and we did, sinking into an velvety sofa that sighed under our weight.

"I wanted to thank you," Amanda began. "For your help in freeing me. I know it wasn't easy."

"You don't have to thank us, Amanda." I shook my head. "We're just glad you're okay."

"I can't believe so much time has passed. It's all so different now. I—" Amanda looked down at her fingers as they plucked at the seams of her jeans. "I'm wearing pants today. I never thought I'd see the day where that was allowed, let alone acceptable."

Her voice wavered between disbelief and something close to pride as she smoothed one hand over the soft material covering her thigh. John nodded, clearly unsure of what to say and really, what could you say to someone who had skipped over two centuries like it was nothing more than a nap?

"How are you adjusting?" I asked gently.

"Slowly. William, he's been keeping me here, in the house. Says it's safer this way, that the world outside is too much, too fast." Her lips twisted into a small smile, but there was sadness in it, too. "But I want to see it. I want to understand what I missed."

"Everything okay with the baby?"

"I just found out I was expecting before... before I was petrified." Her hand moved to her belly again, gently cupping the slight swell beneath her shirt. "I was so scared that the baby wouldn't survive, but the doctor says everything is fine."

"That's great." I gave her a big smile.

"As for William, I think he's more scared than I am, but he won't say it. He keeps talking about how much has changed." Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "But he's changed, too. He's not the same man I married."

Her words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of centuries. I reached out and took her hand, squeezing it gently. I couldn't imagine what that must be like, to see the man you loved as a stranger, worn down by the centuries that passed him by like sand slipping through an hourglass.