Between The Lies

Chapter 4

Cora found herself standing outside the iron gates of the Rutherford mansion the next day. She had a plan, but all the reasons not to do this came flooding in her mind. However, this wasn't stealing. She was just borrowing and never giving back. Besides, Amelia wanted her to have it and not Patrick.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" Nick's amused voice cracked the silence.

"No, Nick." She gave him a look. She began striding towards the mansion before her thoughts could get the better of her again.

As the front doors stood towering above her, she let out a shaky breath. She had rehearsed the conversation a thousand times the night before. But the dread deadened her mind. She grasped the door knock, the cold metal sending a shiver up her quivering arm. Minutes passed as she waited, taking a few moments longer to prepare, and eventually knocked.

It was not Mrs. Rutherford who greeted her at the doors as she had assumed, it was their housekeeper. Cora remembered the time when Amelia was twelve and she was eleven. Covered in flour, they moved around the kitchen island as Alma made the fettuccine. The air used to be thick with her tales, sometimes an old song. Alma was a woman of steel, beaten down by old age. Her face had withered with time and it had left her nothing but a frail layer of skin. Her eyes were once full of light, so bright that it could save any soul lost to the shadows. Her embrace and firm arms had worn down with the years. As she pulled back, Cora noticed that her eyes brimmed with tears, but she said nothing about it. She was too sad to cry out or wail.

"Come in, Cora. It is too cold outside." Wiping her tears away, she patted Cora on the back.

"Alma, where is everyone?" Cora asked as she sat on the couch, inlaid with a fine silk.

"Mr. and Mrs. Rutherford are out for business. Patrick is in-" Alma paused. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Patrick and I were supposed to work on an assignment. We planned on staying in today." She answered, just like she had rehearsed. "It seems he forgot about that."

"That boy has been very forgetful lately." Alma shook her head. "Would you like some tea while you wait, love?"

"Thank you, Alma." Cora smiled like she was at ease. But she wasn't. The moment Alma was out of sight, she stood and hurried towards the stairs.

Amelia refused to own anything younger than her. She relished peeking into the past, holding things that had travelled through more time than a person ever could. The dresser was one of such things. Cora caressed the engravings with her fingers as she took in the mellow scent of blackwood that had never worn off. Kneeling on the floor, she reached her hand under it.

Bound in leather, it felt delicate to the touch as she traced the pattern of the Celtic designs. The journal sat heavy in her palm. Words appeared and disappeared as she flipped through the pages, a jumble of sentences that littered the world she had become immersed in. They had the answers she needed, but her time was up. Even Alma's tea had to wait for the next time.

In a matter of seconds, she was down the stairs and almost at the front doors. As she crossed the threshold, a jabber of voices made her stop in her tracks and turn.

Mrs. Rutherford came into light, fumbling her pipe between her fingers. A man strolled behind her and wrapped his arms around her.

But it wasn't Mr. Rutherford.

* * *

Condemnant quod non intellegunt.

Cora scratched those words onto her desk as the class waited for the lesson.

Latin was a dead language. When the Catholic Church gained influence in ancient Rome, Latin became the official language of the sprawling Roman Empire. Latin was king of the world. It was the language of international communication, scholarship and science. But when that empire failed, Latin died and the new languages were born. It was one of the many things she had learned in her past lessons.

As minutes passed, the ceaseless murmurs of the class increased. It would be a rare sight if the class was under the supervision of Miss Hawthorne. Having no burning eyes to glare at them, it was a chance worth taking to have at least a few moments of pleasure after a day filled with endless hours of algebra and chemical reactions.

A sudden quietness and stillness in the room made her look up. Adrenaline flooded her system, her eyes wide with fear. Her body wanted to run away, but she remained where she was. She knew she had to face him.

Patrick stood at the doorway, all eyes were on him as his searched the room and eventually settled on Cora. He stared at her in sudden induced silence as he sauntered inside. He used to be someone they had always envied, but none of them would want to trade places with him anymore.

Avoiding his gaze, she strained her eyes to the book on the desk as it fluttered in the breeze. Before she could reach forward to place her hand over the yellowed pages to stop it, another hand beat her to it.

"Why were you there yesterday?" Patrick glowered at her, if only looks could kill. "Why did you lie?"

She scowled, but she knew there was no way out. She made a plan on how to retrieve Amelia's journal, but she never made a plan on how to face him after accomplishing that. Before he could continue bombarding her with more questions, their teacher walked into the room like she was expecting perfect order. After giving a glare at her, he sank into the seat next to Cora.

Cora realized that time was so much like water. It could pass slowly, a drop at a time. It could rush by in a blink. It could even freeze. She looked at the watch on her wrist, scrutinizing the second hand that seemed to linger an extra minute at every passing second. Letting out a long, deep breath, she began reviewing her notes, but was disrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

"What do you want, Patrick?" She whispered, avoiding the hawkish eyes of Miss Hawthorne that seemed to follow every movement in the class.

"Alma told me everything."

"Everything?" She furrowed her brows, lost in her thoughts. She wondered if he knew about the man she had seen with his mother. 

"What was inside that envelope?" He narrowed his eyes. 

Fumbling with the sheets of paper strewn across her desk, she remained silent. The tension between them was palpable. However, it was soon cut with the ringing sound of the school bell. Relieved, she lost no time as she strode out of the room. She knew it wasn't time for him to know about the journal.