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   Chapter 44 No.44

The WeatherMaker Hearts Desire By Lady Lilium Characters: 5281

Updated: 2018-07-10 12:03


'I will support you through this' Arlen told Alice. 'No matter what time of the day or night, if you need someone to talk to, I will be there.'

Shawn placed a small tray of food upon the table for the brothers to eat, but like himself and his mother, they had no appetite, and the biscuits grew stale.

'How is Gracie?' Arlen asked. 'Is she well?'

'She is well enough…considering' Shawn said, speaking for her mother who was too grief-stricken to answer properly. 'She is in bed now, though I doubt she's sleeping.'

Farrell rose from his chair and walked out suddenly, without another word.

Arlen turned his head towards Farrell as he left the room, eyes wide and uncertain. He rose quickly; the chair he sat upon fell back, clattering to the floor.

Arlen ran outside after Farrell, calling after him as he strode forwards.

'Farrell wait!'

Farrell halted in his footsteps. The black of the night was closing in around them; the clouds were heavy, blotting out any sign of the stars, and hiding away the light of the moon.

Everything was black, and cold.

Arlen watched his brother, tears in his eyes. He drew a deep breath, staring at Farrell's back as tears ran down his cheeks.

Farrell waited a moment longer, before walking on. He didn't even turn around.

Back at home, Ramana waited for her husband's return. Still dressed in black, she waited for Farrell to come home.

It was well past midnight, and he had not yet returned. She began to worry.

Ramana stood by the tall window in the upstairs part of the house, drawing back the curtains slightly and staring out at the heavy black night that stared back at her. Her daughter appeared beside her.

Amaia stood by her mother's side, together staring out into the nothing.

They waited.

Chapter Eleven

Mourning

A year later

'You can't keep doing this to us' Ramana cried desperately.

'Be quiet woman' Farrell groaned, holding his head and swaying on the spot.

Ramana took a deep breath, her heart racing in fury. He had never spoken to her like that before. Never.

'So is this how you're going to spend the rest of your life? Drinking until it kills you?'

'I said be quiet!'

Farrell rounded on her, throwing the empty bottle in Ramana's direction. If she hadn't moved to the side, it would have hit her. The glass smashed against the wall behind her, shattering into tiny pieces. Amaia who was peering into the room from around the corner began to cry. She had never seen her parents argue like this before.

Ramana stared back at him in shock and disbelief, amazed that he had done such a thing. Then she heard he

r daughter crying. She turned her back on her husband, rushing over to Amaia to comfort her.

Ramana left, taking her daughter away from their home until Farrell was sober enough to stand properly. Carrying Amaia in her arms, Ramana marched out of the building, listening to her husband as he shouted after her, shouted at the terrified servants, shouted at his empty bottles.

She didn't close the door after her. She didn't look back, but kept on walking.

It was late by the time Ramana decided to return hours later, walking slowly up to the house, holding Amaia's hand in hers.

The house was still, and there was no sign of Farrell or any of the servants. Ramana quietly put her daughter to bed, whispering to her to be brave and strong, and not to be frightened. Once Amaia was settled, Ramana went to her own bedroom she shared with her husband, only to find him passed out on the bed. It seemed he had continued to drink, even after they had left earlier that day.

Ramana backed out of the room, closing the door after her quietly. She walked slowly through the home and back downstairs, grabbing a blanket draped upon the balustrade as she went. Ramana slept on the sofa that night. The servants who had taken to hiding from Farrell, appeared in the night to clean up the broken glass. One of them placed another blanket upon Ramana's shivering profile. And then they vanished.

Ramana was woken early the next morning by her daughter. She opened her eyes to see her standing there in her nightdress, hugging the pillow she had brought with her from her bedroom, a habit she did when she was upset. Ramana lifted her body up, propping herself on an elbow.

Amaia sobbed, rubbing tears from her eyes. 'Mama….'

Ramana sat up, pulling her daughter to her in a tight hug and holding her close.

Chapter Twelve

Desire

'I've seen the way he treats you' Arlen said in a hushed voice. 'You deserve better than this.'

Ramana averted her eyes from Arlen, reluctant to answer.

'I know you're not happy with the way things are anymore' Arlen pressed. 'It just….tears at my very soul' he said grasping the air with both hands, 'to see you treated so.'

'You should not have come here' Ramana spoke firmly.

'I can't help it' Arlen answered quickly. 'I have had so little joy in my life. You and Amaia are the only things that matter to me.'

'Doesn't Farrell matter to you?' Ramana asked coldly, turning her back to him and glaring at the floor in the kitchen they stood.

'He has changed' Arlen answered sadly. 'I barely know him anymore. I too miss Brice dearly…but….' He shook his head. 'Ramana….'

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