ENSHROUDING LIGHT

THE OPENING

CHAPTER 22

THE OPENING

Nevaeh exhaled and wiped sweat from her forehead as she shoved the heavy vacuum cleaner into its closet. She went to the sink, took a glass from the cupboard, ran water into it and took a sip. A scraping of chairs came from beyond the wall. She looked at the clock. Four pm! They'll be finishing class! Tom worked an hour a day after lessons, from one side of the shelves to the other, and he always ended on a full row, so he knew where he was up to. She waited behind the arch until she heard Mark's footsteps ascend the stairs, then made her way to the classroom.

Tom was balancing on the ladder that glided along the shelves with one hand, sniffing one of the books.

'Be careful.'

'I love the oak shelves and the scent from the old books.'

'I can see that! Watch what you're doing.'

'I will, mum, don't worry. Hey, I can see the tree house from here!' He craned his neck to look outside.

She turned to see Mark had added a new ladder and safety net to the tree for Tom's sake and smiled, then sighed.

'Ive made a poem up about how happy I am living here. It's called My Paradise. Do you want to read it?'

'Not just now.' She smiled away the pain. She was glad he was happy but...well...why did everyone in the home have to be so happy? Not one person could remotely understand where her ever increasingly frustrated depressive mood came from...unless anyone else had feelings for Mark. To even look at Mark the wrong way made people look at her like she was mad or ungrateful. The "depression" could no longer be blamed on the shock of loosing everything. The reasonable length of time people would deem normal had passed; she had to be careful not to show her feelings for Mark whenever anyone was around.

When they were alone, however, she made it clear he shouldn't speak to her more than necessary. She mentally scolded herself each time. How could she treat him so awful under his own roof? It wasn't in her nature to be so mean, especially to someone she respected and admired and with whom she genuinely couldn't find fault and no doubt loved but, no matter how polite she'd trained herself to fake, Jack had always said she couldn't help her face. Her face apparently told people how she really felt, no matter what words she'd say, it would outright contradict them. Whenever Mark spoke to her, he looked at her face more than hearing her words. She could say "thank you", and he would look at her as if she'd told him to walk off a cliff.

'I'll read it once you've finished your job.'

'Okay. I love my job. And Mark for giving it to me. And for making me the tree house. Mark really loves me, doesn't he?'

A stab to her heart. Mark loved him enough to want him to learn more of his gifts but, after seeing what he was about to do to save his parents, there was no way she wanted Tom to be professional at anything. Not until she had her own power and could save herself so he wouldn't have to, at least. And by that time, he would no longer need them. 'Yes, he does. Be careful up there. See you at five for tea!'

Each day was the same. She'd work while Tom had lessons. She'd shower, help prepare tea, and then they'd all sit down to eat. She stayed out of Mark's way as much as possible during the evening until Tom's bedtime when she'd also retire to her room and do press ups and sit ups. The weeks seemed to fly by but, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that Mark had done what he thought was best or how many times he told her he never meant to hurt her, her angst remained. She just couldn't get over the loss of what she thought she had with him. No matter how nice he was, she still felt cheated.