All The Pieces (Pieces of Lies 3) (23 page)

“Oh, okay,” I said, walking over and placing it on the dresser. I turned back to Delia who had already taken a seat on my bed.

“Norah, Clint told me what is going on.  About you
leaving
tomorrow.”

I sucked in a short breath. I wasn’t sure how to respond to her comment except to look at her like I didn’t know what she was talking about. She saw my look and was fast to add the rest of what she already knew. “Don’t worry Norah, your fake death is my secret too. I would never betray Clint’s trust.”

“That’s good to know,” I said, trying to sound relieved. I wasn’t sure if it was right that Clint could trust his sister with this kind of information, but given the circumstances and the help she had provided, I had to believe she would be a vault.

“So I’m here because I want to have a little chat with you about my brother.”

Oh great. The protective sister speech. I really didn’t want to have to go through this. If it was anything like her statements she threw at me when I first arrived, then I was in for a sour treat. I cringed, hoping she would get what she needed off her chest quickly and then leave. I already knew how she felt about the whole thing. I didn’t need another lecture about it. “Delia, if you are here because you are upset that I got him involved in this mess, then I’m sorry. I honestly didn’t know he was coming to Europe and was going to be a part of all this. I’m thankful for your help and hospitality but I don’t need you telling me...”

“That isn’t the reason I’m in your room Norah. I apologize if I gave you that impression to start off with. I’m here to tell you a little story.”

I stalled at the word.  “Story?”  I asked still feeling suspicious of her intentions.

“Yes, because I love my brother and I know how he feels. So will you listen to what I have to say before you form anymore opinions about me, or him for that matter?”

I was slightly taken aback by Delia’s sudden need to become a storyteller. Like a tale would suddenly change my perception of this entire situation of what I had planned to do, and who I planned to do it with. Did she really believe a ‘friendly chat’ could change the course of events?

I was curious to see what she had to say, but also wary. My internal struggle with my emotions wasn’t something I wished to discuss or cloud further with more information. I didn’t want to go on my date tonight considering another possibility. I decided I was going to ask her to leave, but I when I opened my mouth, she anticipated my move and cut me off. 

“The thing is Norah, from the very beginning, Clint was a different kind of Weston. He didn’t care much for all the superficiality my parents pushed onto him. He was never about the money, or the power, and he certainly had no desire to join the Lappell. Clint became who he was because he loved his parents, and he loved his siblings and wanted to do everything possible to please us and make us happy.

Clint and I were very close as kids too. With our parents barely around and our older brother at boarding school, we were best friends. There was a time when I was ten years old that I was obsessed with watching the movie,
The Princess Bride.
 Do you know it?” She shook her head before I could respond. “Anyway, I must have watched it with Clint at least a hundred thousand times as a kid, and not once did Clint complain about it. Then one night, while it was just me and him and the servants in the house while our parents were away, I caught him dressed like Westley in his room. He was playing with a toy sword and fighting imaginary monsters.  It was quite the sight.  And when I confronted the little Westley, and asked him why he was dressed that way, he answered me, “
Because Westley is a true hero Delia. He climbed the Cliffs of Insanity, he fought the rodents of unusual size, and faced torture in the pit of despair. And he did it all because of love.”
 Delia smiled at the memory for a second before she continued.  “See I was very curious about this unexpected version of my little brother, and so I asked him, “So you think fighting for love makes you a hero?” To which Clint said to me,
“Well, it’s the only hero I want to be.”
”

Delia stopping looking at me and stared out into the air in front of us. Looking at the past like it was playing out right in front of her eyes. “You see, I never forgot that Norah. I never forgot the type of man Clint would eventually become, because deep down he was always like Westley. A hero, a fighter, a lover and a believer.”

Then she sighed heavily, like the rest of her story was harder to say. “So in high school and college he took on this persona that never really fit him. I never saw Clint for who he really was...that was...until he fell in love with you. It was the first time since we were kids that I saw Clint as the little guy who dressed up as Westley for almost a year. The same little boy who once said to me that a real hero fights for love.

And so I knew when he told me he was in love, back in college, it was the ‘
as you wish
’ kind of love. The kind of love he always believed in. That he had been searching for. Clint would have never fallen in love in any other kind of way. He will fight for you the way Westley fought for Buttercup. And honestly Norah, I don’t think he will ever stop. He is just a boy who went to a party one night, met a girl who was able to see into his soul, and fell in love. He didn’t know who you were and what you meant to the club at the time, he just simply knew. And that’s a beautiful story to me. That’s pure. And I know he has made mistakes, but he would never try to use you or manipulate you. In New York, he simply tried to protect you and save you the only way he knew how. And if that makes him seem like he is too much, then I wish I had someone who loved me with that same kind of intensity.”

As her blue eyes stared into mine, I felt oddly uncomfortable.  If there were any walls around my heart preventing me from knowing my real true feelings, Delia had torn them down.  It was terrifying how quickly they crumbled.  How clear it had become in my head. I wasn’t sure I could say anything that could be an appropriate response. I thought about the beautiful story she told me about Clint and his childhood. It seemed so unbelievable, but when I thought back to my time with Clint and all the moments he fought for us, I could see it. I could see the Westley that Delia was talking about. That young boy with romance in his heart who had to keep up appearances because of the world around him. The lover and the fighter, and yes, the true believer in love.  In our love.

I still wasn’t sure how to feel, or what to say, so I simply just said the first thing that came to mind. “But Delia, you know I’m going away forever. Wouldn’t it kill you if you never saw your brother again?”

She scrunched up her hands on her thighs, the idea of never seeing her brother again causing the tension to twist into her hands. “What would kill me Norah, is watching Clint go through life without being happy, and without this love he feels for you, and being left a shell of a man keeping up appearances for his family and the Lappell. That’s what would kill me.”

Her head snapped back from being cocked on the side, like the moment she allowed to be soft was swallowed back into her hard exterior. “So...now I’ve got to go and get ready for my own work tonight. And I can’t be late for that.” Her arm went around my shoulders for a couple of seconds in a warm embrace, and then she got up and left the room, passing Tess on her way back in. “Please think about what I’ve told you Norah,” she said as she walked out.

Tess still wore the same puzzled expression she left with on her face when she walked in and sat down next to me. “So how was your conversation with the Ice Queen?” Tess asked curiously.

It was beautiful, thought provoking, heartwarming, complicated, deep and everything in between.  Delia had opened up in a way I never saw coming. She really did love her brother beyond words, and beyond all selfish reasoning.  I couldn’t go into all the details with Tess about what Delia just told me because it was making me think and feel things in my heart that were once closed and now suddenly open. I wanted to tell Tess what was happening, but I couldn’t even admit to myself what was burning inside. I could only give Tess the one simple answer I knew would be right.

“My conversation with Delia was...” I searched and searched my mind for the right words. “It was...just truth.”

I did not use a blindfold like Samuel. I was not keeping the destination of our date a secret. And why would I when the place we arrived at looked like an old condemned building. You couldn’t tell what my plans were from the appearance of this place alone, given it looked like a deserted cinema. It looked like the kind of shabby establishment kids would go exploring in for fun in a horror movie. Although my fears were much bigger than the types of horror hiding in the dark. My greatest fear was losing the girl standing next to me. The same one that I finally had the chance to get back.

“Remember, it’s what’s inside that counts,” I said, seeing Norah’s eyes roam over the derelict look of the place. She tugged at the leotard under her sweater, looking even more confused. I know that Samuel went all out by taking Norah on a romantic picnic in the park to see
Romeo and Juliet
, but I had a much more subtle approach. I was going to appeal to something a little more deep and purposeful and that would really represent our relationship and what we shared. I couldn’t dress it up like Voltaggio. What we have is more than just Shakespeare. It was our own love story that was timeless and eternal. I was going to reach into the very core of Norah’s soul, where her true beauty and passion existed and bring out the girl who once chased me down and declared her love for me on the side of the road in the pouring rain.

Norah hesitated on her heels, like it was more than the fear of the dilapidated building that was holding her back. She had genuine reservations about stepping forward towards the place. We both knew what it could mean. I stood next to her and moved so my hand rested in the small of her back, and gently nudged her forward. She sighed, seeming almost grateful for the push. Her mind was holding her back, but her body, and maybe her heart was going inside with me.

She followed as I unlocked the doors and walked down a hallway that lead to a staircase. When we reached the top, we came to an old stage space that I had set up to look similar to her art workroom back in New York. There was a table with a multitude of non-toxic paints, a couple of brushes and some towels. On the other side of the stage space lay an enormous flat canvas, almost three times the size of the canvases she was using back in the city.

Norah’s body spun on the spot as she turned back and forth and all around. She didn’t ask questions though. Instead, she took small steps towards the work bench with the paint laid out. She started picking up the tubes and cans, touching each one like they were fragile and would break in her hands. She rubbed her fingers over the brushes, stroking them each like she was saying good-bye. Perhaps in her head she was saying good-bye to the workspace in New York. As an artist, there would have been a part of her soul still in that room. It was a place she was both truly happy and free.

I stood back and watched her. Giving as much time and as much silence she needed in order to remember that place and say her farewell. I know what it meant to have that kind of opportunity. To say, good-bye.

After a few minutes, she switched her attention to the canvas, her mouth parting a little in both excitement and anticipation as she took in its size. You didn’t have to be a genius to figure out what I had planned. Norah only looked at the canvas, again taking another minute to remember her soon to be, past life.

I went over to a handle near the door and pulled down. The room became illuminated even more from the bright spotlights, one specifically on the space over the canvas. Norah finally turned to me, opening her mouth like she was going to speak, but then shut it again, lost for words. She was stalling and breaking. I could see in her face that she was feeling overwhelmed. I had to lighten the atmosphere I had created. I needed to bring back the joy that I wanted her to feel tonight, not the regret and sadness.

I jogged over to where she stood in front of the canvas, taking both her hands and getting down on one knee. Before she could ask what I was doing, I stroked her fingers and sang out, almost like a show tune, “Norah Simona Rossi, will you...paint for me?” I gave her the biggest smile I could stretch across my face, finishing off the look with a devilish shake of my head.

The melancholy that had entranced her, snapped off instantly, and she coughed out a laugh. “That was one hell of a proposal good sir.” She smirked. Norah always did have a good sense of humor.

I grinned again, showing teeth this time, playing up the cheese factor just a little more so she would relax. “So will you Norah? Will you do me the honor of making me the happiest man on earth by...painting for me?”

She bowed her head and curtsied. “I...will.”

I brought her hands to my mouth and kissed her knuckles, lightly grazing her skin with my lips. She didn’t flinch and cringe the way she did when Hamilton pulled the same move. This time her eyelids fluttered and I saw a distinct hue to her cheek as she blushed. Norah quickly dismissed her girlish display as she withdrew her hands and made her way back to the paint table. “It’s why you asked me to wear the leotard isn’t it?” It sounded more like a statement than a question.