Smuggled Love by Robert L. Davies

Author:Robert L. Davies [Davies, Robert L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Robert L. Davies
Published: 2015-01-22T22:00:00+00:00

PART FOUR

February, 1944

Nineteen

Patrick has hung himself.

He chose the very barn where Nora and Genevieve were caught making love.

Somehow he managed to position a chair parallel to the ledge of the upper loft where he then proceeded to step up on it and tie one end of ten feet of rope around a cross beam. He then worked the other end over his head, the whiskers of the material brushing against the lobes of his ears as the noose slid down toward his neck. No one will ever know what he thought or if he said a prayer in the final moments before he kicked the chair away to the floor below.

Nora is unable to react to what she is looking at. She is held by both panic and disbelief as the vacant eyes of her brother’s purple face stare down at them. A large stain is present in the crotch of his trousers and his always neatly combed hair is now disheveled and soaked with sweat.

“Jesus Christ,” Genevieve says.

Nora continues to stare as though watching for any sign of movement – remaining life.

“Let’s go,” Genevieve suggests.

It is as though Nora does not hear.

“Hey,” Genevieve says, gently taking her by the arm. “Let’s get out of here and go outside.”

Nora complies in silence as Genevieve steers her across the debris littered barn floor. She is aware that her legs are making slow unsteady steps toward the sunlit gap between the tall doors. Toward the light, she thinks. Has Patrick gone toward a light? Was there a light for him?

She feels Genevieve guide her far away from the barn toward a section of tree shade where she allows herself to fall down to her knees. The grass feels cold against the palms of her hands as she leans forward and tries to be sick. The entire middle of her body convulses in attempts to eliminate itself of something but nothing comes up. After a seemingly endless length of time, the convulsions begin to diminish and nausea begins to surrender to torment. She digs the nails of her fingers through the blades of grass and into the earth beneath as she cries out in anguish.

Genevieve holds her shoulders as she sobs. She waits long enough for the girl to exhaust herself, and then whispers, “Come on. We have to go tell somebody.”

Nora does not acknowledge what Genevieve’s has said. When she finally speaks, her voice is quiet and raw. “He wanted me to find him. He knew that we come here.”

Nora nods her head in gradual comprehension and agreement.

“He did this to me,” Nora continues, her voice breaking again with emotion.

“No,” Genevieve says, placing her hands on Nora’s shoulders again. “It’s not like that.”

“Then how is it?” Nora sobs.

“He seemed to be the only one that understood us,” Genevieve whispers. “And accept us ... and not judge us.”

“Then why here? Why me?” she asks after turning to face her.

“Because it is you who he felt was the strongest of anyone else,” Genevieve explains.

“Me?” Her voice is very audible.

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