Given the conversations I’d had with Shamus in the past twenty-four hours, it really didn’t come as a shock that he would fabricate something to help prop up his plan to have Felicity deprogrammed. The simple fact that he claimed to have contacted an “exit counselor” was enough to tell me that much.
When it came right down to it, even though Felicity had said she was certain her mother would shut him down, in the back of my mind I had been just as certain that she couldn’t. Not this time. I’d hoped that maybe I would be wrong, but the evidence at hand said otherwise.
Still, all I had truly expected from my father-in-law were a couple of fictional diatribes. A few easily discountable rants spewed forth by a man who wasn’t willing to accept anything other than the narrow vision he stubbornly saw as truth. I hadn’t begun to imagine that he would go as far as trying to produce some form of bogus documentation to lend credence to his accusations. Obviously, even with my belief that he wouldn’t back down from his threat, I had still underestimated his conviction. It seemed that every time the man stepped over a line, he would just go find a new one to cross. This line, however, was final. There were none beyond it, not where I was concerned anyway.
The sad thing was, in reality, we were both heading toward the same end-that being the safety and sanctity of Felicity. He was just approaching from a diametrically opposed direction. Unfortunately, one of the important points on his roadmap called for sacrificing me in order to arrive at that final destination.
In a sense I suppose I couldn’t blame him. I had to admit I was more than willing to fall upon my own sword if I believed it would help my wife in the least. But, it wouldn’t and I knew that, especially not the way Shamus was trying to make it happen. In fact, if he kept this up, which was plainly his intention, I wasn’t going to be his only victim. He was going to end up helping put away his daughter as well.
“Hey, Row?” Ben prodded. “You okay?”
The ringing in my ears had died away. When, I didn’t know, but it had been replaced by the ambient noise of the room. I just still wasn’t paying attention to that noise. Words being directed toward me, however, seemed to break that barrier.
Ben’s query served to alert me to the fact that I must have been staring in silence for longer than I’d realized. It took a moment for his voice to register, but when it did I set aside the random thoughts which had been occupying my conscious brain and tried to focus on the world around me. I became suddenly aware that the side of my thigh was wet and cold where the makeshift icepack in my hand was resting against it. But, instead of moving the dripping object, I simply clung to it, trying to use the physical sensation to draw me out of the bizarre catatonia.
I felt a bit like a voyeur, as if I was standing before a window watching something transpire in front of me, all the while hidden from the players in the act. At the same time I felt like I was at the center of it all and that nothing could continue without me.
I began to wonder if what I was experiencing truly was calm, or if it was nothing more than confusion. Of course, blithering insanity was always an option as well, and I can’t say that it was all that unattractive at the moment because this particular reality had been doing its best to kill me.
I briefly considered trying to find my voice; but after a half-hearted search, I decided it was hidden too well. My head didn’t seem overly interested in moving either, so I was unable to even look toward my friend to acknowledge hearing his question. Of course, none of these things really mattered to me. Be it calm, confusion, or flat out insanity that had come over me, I was comfortable for the first time in two weeks, and right now I saw no compelling reason to disturb that feeling. Taking the easy way out, I simply remained focused on Austin.
With no response coming from me for several beats, my brother-in-law drew his own hasty conclusion and cast his eyes toward Ben as he proceeded to gloat. “Aye, the bastard’s got nothing he can say to that.”
It was obvious from the tone of his voice that he was clearly delighted with himself over what he saw as a victory. Since he was still cuffed, he glanced back in my direction and thrust his chin out sharply, directing his next comment to me personally. “Do you, then, Rowan?”
His belligerence had no effect. My tongue continued to lie dormant, and waited. But, it didn’t matter because for some reason I didn’t feel the need to respond. Not to him, anyway.
“Rowan?” Constance made her own attempt to return my attention to the room. Her words fell into the same scrap bucket as everyone else’s, instantly disregarded even as they were heard. It wasn’t until she reached out and laid her hand on my arm that my two worlds once again fully merged.
I suddenly found myself looking down at her hand, regarding the appendage with mild curiosity. As the seconds ticked by, I eventually brought my gaze back up to her face.
“Yeah,” I finally said, finding my voice once again, though I’m certain it would have preferred to remain hidden.
“Don’t listen to him,” she offered.
“I’m not,” I told her.
“You go Twilight Zone, white man?” Ben called out.
“I honestly don’t know,” I said.
Constance continued, “Rowan, I’m sure Felicity didn’t write any such letters.”
“She did!” Austin insisted.
“No, she didn’t,” I announced calmly, rotating my head to bring my unblinking eyes back to bear on him.
“I’ve seen them,” he countered.
“Them,” I repeated. “As in more than one?”
“Aye. I saw them with my own eyes.”
“Yes, I’m sure you did,” I replied with a nod, still keeping my voice even. “But, let me ask you a question. Are you just drunk, or did you suddenly get stupid too?”
“Fek tu, ” he snipped bitterly.
“I’m serious, Austin,” I said, ignoring his insult entirely. “You know your sister well enough to realize she isn’t going to be forced into anything against her will.”
“Aye, but if…”
“No,” I cut him off. “There is no but if. They don’t come any more stubborn than Felicity and you know it.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” he objected. “You found a way to coerce her.”
“Row…” Ben interjected hesitantly. “Just drop it. You’re just wastin’ your breath on ‘im.”
“No,” I replied. “He needs to understand that he’s the only one being coerced here and that it’s not being done by me.”
“Talk all you want, Rowan,” Austin huffed. “I won’t be believin’ your lies anymore.”
I thought about that for a moment. Both of the men were probably correct. Everything I’d been saying was for all intents and purposes being wasted on someone who had already made up his mind that whatever came out of my mouth was one hundred-eighty degrees opposite of the truth.
Of course, I also knew that most of Austin’s attitude, if not all of it, had to be the alcohol talking. He really was a level headed and logical man; right up until a bottle of whisky took hold of his senses. I could only surmise that Shamus had been firmly behind his state of inebriation, effectively putting him into the necessary frame of mind to sway him with the bogus letters. Whether or not it was my father-in-law’s intention for him to come over here and attack me, well that was a matter for debate. While in one sense it wouldn’t surprise me, in another I’m not so certain he would want his hand tipped in my direction just yet.
I finally shook my head and shrugged.
“Yeah, probably not,” I agreed, then looked down and regarded the wet, blood stained towel in my hand. Tossing it onto an end table, I continued to look at my hand for a moment before looking back to my brother-in-law and continuing. “But, do me a favor, Austin. When you dry out, I’ve got a couple of things for you to think over. First, your parents are twenty minutes away. If Felicity really wanted to get away from me, why didn’t she just call them? Or better yet, go over there? Why bother sending letters?”