Chapter Thirty-three She hung on to John tighter than she had in almost fifteen years. Although she felt exhausted and nearly cried out, she still managed a few tears when she saw him. And her knees nearly collapsed beneath her as he pulled her tight into his arms and pressed his lips to her forehead. Aside from Anton, she'd never been so close to anyone else in her life. Her brother was her anchor, and right now he seemed like the only thing keeping her sane. She'd called him from the plane, asking him to meet her flight...nearly a three hour drive from his home. Yet he hadn't complained or stalled even once, hadn't said a word about having to leave his job in the middle of the morning. He was there the moment she stepped out of the gate, and he'd been with her ever since. He held her hand like they had as children, on the way to get her luggage. He even kept his hand on her arm and respected her need for silence on the drive to their parents' home. And although he was being so kind and compassionate, he still didn't even know what the problem was. As far as he was concerned, she was home from her honeymoon early and that was problem enough. Now early afternoon, he sat quietly with her on the hill overlooking the creek that ran through the property. The place where she was abducted as a little girl. After he'd handed her the tissue he'd brought, as if psychic, he used his own hand to wipe the moisture out of his eyes. Almost half a world away Anton sat staring out of the window of his apartment in France. He said goodbye to Bryn when she left for her noon flight from Paris to the States. In a few hours he would be leaving for Barcelona, to continue on as she had asked. He got up and paced between the window and the door. "What am I going to do if she doesn't come back?" Letting her go was the hardest thing he had done in recent memory, and he wasn't sure that it had been the right thing. But then, if he tried to keep her with him, she might have ended up like Alexandra. Resting her chin on her knee, her arms wrapped around her bent legs, Sabryn glanced at John and smiled. "Thank you." He nodded, a sly smile coming to his face. "Am I the only one who finds it ironic that you'd come back *here* when you have a problem? This is the very place that caused your problems to begin with." She blinking slowly, turning her attention back to the shallow creek. "I think I need to make peace with this place." "Bullshit." John always had been a little blunt. "You came back here to stew in your own misery. This place makes you feel like shit, so what a great excuse. You can come back here and blame your bad feelings on your surroundings." "Would you rather I made everyone else around me miserable, instead?" "You already have. Jesus, Bryn. Everyone loves you so damned much. We hurt when you hurt. But you don't realize just how loved you are, because you're too busy wondering why you're so damned unlovable." He shook his head. "Get over it, little sister. You can't play the wounded victim anymore. No one's buying it." She turned and glared at him. "That's you being supportive? I'd hate to see what you're like when you hate someone." "The guilt trip won't work either." He met her gaze point-blank. "Do you really want to go back to Anton?" "Yes. That's a stupid question." "Then you'd better start listening to me. Because between the two of us, I'm the only one making a damn bit of sense." He ran his hands through his hair. Anton could almost hear the conversation he and Alexandra had, one similar to the one between him and Bryn. "Anton, I'm not happy." "Sweetheart, what are you talking about?" "There's just something wrong with me. I think it might be best if we separated for a while." "Separated?" "Yes." "Alexandra, sweetheart, how are we supposed to work out our problems if you aren't around?" In the end he had convinced her to stay. And lost her six months later when he discovered she was having an affair. Now here he was in the same situation with Bryn. He knew that Bryn wasn't cheating on him, but she was expressing the same feelings that Alexandra had. And he wasn't sure that it wouldn't end the same way. [What if she decides not to come back?] He bit his knuckles. [What if I lose her?] "John, you don't even know what you're talking about. I haven't told you what happened yet." "Don't I? You seem to forget who you're talking to." "Don't play psychologist with me, John. You're a student counselor, not a shrink." "And I don't deal with the same sort of thing? I have known you all of your life, Bryn. I've watched you ruin one relationship after another because you thought something was wrong with you. You could've had boyfriends. You could've had a lot more friends than you did, too. But you can't stand when things become comfortable. Once that newness wears off, you're outta there." "If you're going to call me some sort of addict, you're wrong. I love my husband more than anything. I'm not leaving him!" "Then why isn't he here?" "We just needed some time apart." "No. You needed that familiarity to fade. You needed enough time away from him that he would seem brand new when you saw him again. That's not gonna work, Bryn. Even after a week without a steak, it still tastes like a steak." She wrinkled her nose. "You sound like that Dr. Phil guy, on Oprah." "Must be a smart guy, then." Even he had to crack a smile at that. Quickly sobering, he said, "There's nothing wrong with you, Bryn. And I'll bet you there's nothing wrong with him, either." "Then why do I constantly feel like something isn't right?" "Because something isn't right. You." "You just told me--" "I know what I said," he interrupted. "What little of you that's still in there is just fine. You just have to figure out where the rest of you went." Anton sat down at the table, resting his head on one hand. He had been roaming around the apartment ever since Bryn had left, trying not to worry. Trying not to think. He should have gone out and fed, but when the sun went down, he wasn't interested in blood. He listlessly wandered from room to room, trying not to remember. "Anton, I'm so sorry." "So sorry? I find you in bed with my personal secretary and you're so sorry?!?" "Anton, I didn't mean to sleep with Richard. And I certainly didn't mean to fall in love with him." "In love with him. And what were we?" "I do love you, Anton, but I can't live like this. I want to be able to go out on noon picnics with my husband. I want to be able to see his eyes sparkling in the sunshine. I want to have his children." "We talked about this before we married, Alexandra. You told me our love was enough." "I'm sorry, Anton. It's not." "Then go. Go with your human lover and leave. Before I do something that I'll regret." "John, I don't understand you." "This isn't about Anton, Bryn. And it's not about me, or Caroline and the kids. And it certainly isn't about Mom and Dad. If somehow we all died tomorrow and you were alone, it wouldn't be the end of the world. But you would cease to function with the life you lead now. You'd shut down completely, because you believe so religiously that we're all that's keeping you alive. Don't you?" "No, I--" She stared at him, before squeezing her eyes closed. How many times had she said that to herself? John was her anchor. Anton was her everything. Lindy kept her sane, and this baby gave her hope. She told herself these things almost every day. "Yes." "We can't live your life for you, Sabryn. We don't make your decisions, we don't walk and breathe for you. And although we love you, our world doesn't stop when you stub a toe. We're too busy taking care of ourselves. Just like you should be. Do you know how much pressure it puts on a person to have to take care of someone else 24/7? It's a living nightmare. And I'll be damned if I'm going to do it, and you can bet your ass I won't let Anton do it either. If you were in a coma, I'd give you a little slack, but you look just fine to me. Face it, Bryn, this is your life, and you're finally about to start living it." Anton gave a deep sigh and sat back in the chair. He looked at the clock. [Ten minutes before I have to leave.] He stood up, making sure that his luggage was besides the front door. He turned to take one last look around the apartment, still remembering. "Hello, Richard." "Anton! What are you doing here?" "No, the question is what are you doing here? Why aren't you with Alexandra?" "It didn't work out between us. Hard luck for her." "It's a bit more than hard luck. You broke her heart. And now you're going to pay for that." Anton closed his eyes. He had fed on Richard a year after he and Alexandra had divorced, and six months after the other man had left her. It had dulled his need for revenge. But not his pain. He picked up his luggage and walked out of the apartment, letting the door close behind him. She woke up around ten in the evening, her version of sleeping in. After not having slept for nearly twenty-four hours, and after being so drained by her emotions, she'd been exhausted by the time she and John walked back to the house. Her mother had made dinner, and curiously hadn't even asked why Sabryn was there or why she'd left her honeymoon early. She simply acted as if it was an every day occurrence, something Bryn was thankful for. She'd eaten voraciously, the conversation was light and impersonal, and no one seemed to mind when she snuck off to John's old room to take a nap. For once in an incredibly long while, being home felt good. She thought about what John had said. He'd had so many good points...but even they hadn't kept her from falling to sleep. Not even sleeping alone for the first time since getting married could do that. Although, she had woken up hugging her pillow and aching for Anton's arms around her. She looked at the clock, then hurried out of the room, walking through the darkened house. Her parents would be in bed by now. But she had a date with her brother, outside in the same old tent she hadn't slept in for almost a two decades. Turning on a flashlight, she made her way back to the pasture once more. It was so amazing to look up at the starry sky and smile. She used to hate the nights here. It was even more astonishing to be excited about sleeping outdoors, something she hadn't even considered since that night when she was seven. She saw him sitting in front of the campfire, the tent illuminated behind him, and hurried over to the fire. It wasn't cold out, in mid-July, but the mosquitoes were out in full force. Sitting down next to him, grinning as he handed her a freshly- toasted marshmallow, Bryn felt the nostalgia bring tears to her eyes. "I was beginning to think you'd never wake up." "What did Caroline say when you called?" she asked, pulling the brown outer- shell off of her marshmallow and popping it in her mouth. "She said, 'Good riddance, and tell Bryn I hope she feels better.' " "She did not." "Did too." He looked at her, his face glowing orange from the flames. "You just wait until you've been married eight years, with two kids. She was dying to have the bed all to herself." "We won't be like that," she said, shaking her head. "It's hell to even spend one night alone, let alone a week or two." "You're also newlyweds, Bryn. Marriages change." She wanted to tell him that no, it wouldn't. But it had already changed so much in just a few days. Or maybe that was just her. "You said I'm going to start living my life. What did you mean? I thought I was doing that." Pushing two more marshmallows onto his stick, he held them over the fire. "You haven't lived by yourself one day of your entire life, Bryn." "So? A lot of people haven't." "Yeah, a lot of people just as lost are you are." "You haven't lived alone, either, John!" "No, I haven't. But I have been the sole provider for a family. And that builds your character every bit as much." He cussed as his stick caught on fire, quickly blowing out the flames and frowning at the burnt sugar. "I don't think you ever realized just what Carly and I went through together. We kept our fights private, because we swore we'd never scream at each other in front of the kids. So every time we had even the slightest argument, we left home. We either walked down to the park, or drove somewhere. I think you did notice that." "What does this have to do with me?" He sighed. "Carly and I were both scared. We had a brand new relationship, a baby on the way when were just nineteen. I could barely afford my car payments, let alone a house. I didn't know what I was doing, Bryn. I was a lousy husband. I left her alone too much, and when she said something about it, I smothered her just as effectively. I worked too much, I lost my jobs at the worst time, and I was constantly looking at other women. It wasn't that I didn't love her...it was that I was afraid of it. All of it. The marriage, the house payment, the thought of being father when I didn't even like kids, the thought of being trapped. For the rest of my life." "But I'm not trapped. I want to be with Anton, I want to be a mother, and money isn't a problem." "Then why are you here?" "Because...because it's not enough. There's something missing, and I can't figure out what it is." "That's exactly what I mean by living your life, Bryn. The only thing missing from this equation is you." She groaned, tossing her hands up. "That doesn't make any sense!" "It makes perfect sense if you'd just listen." He put his blackened marshmallows into his mouth, wincing at the charcoal-like flavor, but munching away nonetheless. "Do you know what I was afraid of all of that time? It wasn't the situation. It was my own damned feelings. I wasn't happy, even though I was madly in love with my wife. Even though I had my own family in the making. Most importantly, even though I finally got away from living with Mom and Dad." She giggled at that. "I thought I was going to be an unhappy, unsatisfied jerk for the rest of my life. I was thrust into a situation of my own making, and had to sink or tread water. But Carly, my sweet-mouthed wife, told me to stop being an asshole and go get a life. I didn't have any friends after we got married. None of my old high-school buddies wanted to hang out with a married guy and his preggo wife. I had you to take care of. You were pretty damned miserable at the time, even if you were starting to feel better. I felt like I had more problems than I could solve. So I took my car and my gun, and I left. I thought that you guys would be sad, but at least with me dead there would be one less mouth to feed." She stared at him silently, her eyes burning with grief. She'd never imagined John could come even close to feeling this way. In her eyes, he'd always been so strong and unshakable. A rock. But she realized that even rocks could crack with enough pressure. "What changed your mind?" she asked, quietly. "I didn't want to leave her." He blinked, pushing his glasses out of the way to pinch the bridge of his nose. His sneaky camouflaged move for wiping the tears from his eyes. "Instead of thinking about how she might feel if I died, I was too worried about what death would be like without her. I was so needy for her to love me, so caught up in myself that I completely alienated her. So I went home, locked the gun up, and decided that I needed to make sure she was okay. But it wasn't enough. Taking care of her, trying to make her happy, still did very little to make me happy. And that was when it hit me. I couldn't possibly be the person she needed me to be until I was the person *I* wanted me to be." "Who did you want to be?" "I wanted to be John. Not Caroline's husband, or Bryn's brother, or a soon-to-be father. I'd become so absorbed in this role I'd made for myself that I lost who I really was inside. I was a caretaker for everyone else, constantly wondering if I was making the right choices for them. Was I loving them enough, did they love me enough, did I have it in me to survive marriage and fatherhood. And I decided I didn't. I was drained, completely, trying so hard to be everyone's ideal man. It never even occurred to me to be myself." "But I am myself with Anton. Or at least I was, until lately." "But the difference between you and me is that you never feel like being yourself is enough. You think you're not good enough. Not good enough to be loved, or to be accepted, appreciated. To be someone everyone wants to be around." He shook his head, throwing his marshmallow stick on the ground. He stood up and stooped to walk into the tent. Once inside, he tied the sides back and laid down on his sleeping bag with his head towards the entrance. Patting the other sleeping bag next to him, he waited for her to do the same before he spoke again. "I know a great deal of this is from how Mom and Dad treated you, but I'm to blame, too. After the abduction I was so protective of you that I never let you do anything yourself. If you wanted something, I'd give it to you. If you wanted to go somewhere, I'd take you. Always holding your hand. Sheltering you from the world." "But I thought that was a good thing. You were being a good brother." "I was trying to be. But I made a mistake, Bryn. I never let you grow up. I never let you be on your own. You missed a lot of great, important experiences. And because of that, part of you still believes you're seven years old. Still innocent and naive. But the part of you that did experience things is so emotionally damaged that it's almost as bad." "You think I'm bad?" He shook his head solemnly. "No, I don't. Not at all. But even if I did, it shouldn't matter to you. If you were a strong, secure woman, nothing anyone else thought would make the slightest difference to you." "Why would I want to be that unfeeling?" "Not unfeeling, confident. Someone who knows who they are, that they're good enough to rule the world if need be, and nothing anyone else says and does could change that. And before you say that's not true, it is. You can do anything, Bryn. Look at what you've survived so far. Even though you were treated like crap, you grew up as a smart, creative, friendly, loving person. That's pretty damned amazing, wouldn't you say?" "I guess so." Sabryn rolled over onto her back, staring up at the stars, missing Anton more than ever. She didn't feel like these things John was saying were true. It felt like a lie, and she just wanted someone to hold her. To tell her it was okay, and that she didn't need to cry. That she'd always be loved. But she couldn't bring herself to say that to her brother. "I don't understand what you want me to do, John." He couldn't help but laugh as he said, "I want you to get a life, Bryn. Stop worrying so much about everyone else and take care of yourself. As soon as you start caring for you, whatever was missing won't matter in the slightest." She squeezed her eyes closed, her voice barely a whisper. "How do you know that for sure?" "I don't. You've got to believe it." ["I just happen to like believing in things I can't see. Makes life more exciting..."] She glanced at her brother, remembering what she'd said to Anton not so long ago. And even though it scared her death, at this point anything was worth a try. "All right. What do I do?" Anton walked along the carrer del Carme of Barcelona, Spain. He had wanted to get out of his hotel room for a while, and had decided a walk would hopefully do him some good. Without Bryn, he hadn't wanted to stay in his residence in the Barri Gňtic of the city. And he still felt at a loss as to exactly what he was doing here without her. After wandering aimlessly for a while, he looked up and found himself in front of the Catedral de Barcelona. He could remember when the cathedral was still being built in the 1300s, and that he had left the country by its completion in the 1400s. As he looked up at the enormous bell towers, he could almost hear the peal of the bells ring out. This was where he met Maria, the daughter of the chief architect, his blonde, green eyed pequenita who loved to dance. His little one, who like all the others, eventually grew old and passed on. [Thank God that won't be happening with Bryn, if she comes back,] he thought. If he had met her 900 years ago, she would have been his only wife, not his seventh. He had loved his previous wives, as well as Natasha, but not with this consuming intensity that he felt for his dear Sabryn. As she had so often told him, she was his soul mate, and he hers. He stayed there a while, lost in his thoughts until he noticed the stars were fading out of the sky. The sun would be up soon, and he needed to get back to his home away from home. But before he did, he took one last look over the cathedral. Maria's grave had long been lost, so this was the closest thing to a memorial he had for her. "Adios, pequentia mia," he whispered before turning to walk back to his apartment. Anton, my love, I'm sitting here in sunlight, on an old blanket I found in the closet of John's old room. The grass is green here and the creek is just a few feet away. This place used to give me nightmares--but I haven't had them in a long time, because your arms around me when we sleep makes me feel safe and loved. I can't tell you how much I miss that, now that we're apart. I ache for you every minute of the day. Where are you, sugar? I called you shortly after I got to my parents' house, but no one answered the phone. Now I can't call anymore. John's advised me not to. It's weird to think of my brother as my counselor. I thought I'd come here and have his support, but I never imagined this. He's decided to take on the task of helping me rebuild myself. Sounds funny, huh? Who knew I needed rebuilding? But after just one night of talking to him, and listening to his advice, I understand exactly what he means. All of my life, I've wanted a Prince Charming to come rescue me. I'm sure every little girl does, but I really needed it. I wanted someone to take me away from my mean parents, and the people that made fun of me. I thought I was the perfect fairytale heroine. But then I met my Prince Charming, and I married him--and my dream of a happily ever after came crashing down around me. It wasn't your fault, at all! I love you so much I could just burst, Anton. But the happiness that I thought would be instantaneous the moment we got married isn't complete. I made a mistake when I thought you could give me everything. Only I can do that. They always say that money can't buy you happiness. I think I knew that, but the realization really dawned on me once we were married. Suddenly I have a huge bank account and a man who is willing to buy me anything my heart desires. But no matter what it is I buy, the novelty always wears off. You know I believe in magic. I love fairytales and fantasy stories, being a kid at heart. It was so much simpler when I believed in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. And I've always wanted to go to Disneyland. There is a beautiful innocence in childhood, and I refused to let go of it. But, in doing so, I also refused to face reality. Beauty never would've been happy with her princely Beast if she wasn't already happy with herself. Believe it or not, after all of this rambling, I do have a point. What I'm really trying to say is that I haven't been happy to be myself since I was a kid. With all of the time I spent being ashamed of the whole alien thing, it's really not surprising. I thought that there was something wrong with me, that I wasn't good enough, or pretty enough, or smart enough—or anything really--to make people like me. To make my parents love me. And even though I know you love me, it would never feel like enough until I loved myself. Whew...do you have any idea how difficult a task that is? I can't even get out of bed without thinking of how ugly my feet are, and wondering what it would take to make me look presentable that day. I cringe when I look in the mirror. You tell me all the time that I'm beautiful, but all I can see is stringy brown hair, a weird nose, and lips that are too big. I often find myself hoping that people don't think I'm dumb. I'm not worldly and I don't pay much attention to the news, so I can't participate in discussions about current events. I'm horrible at math, and my memory has never been good when it comes to history and science. If I had to take an IQ test, I'd fail miserably. You see, I can name a dozen things I don't like about myself in just a few seconds. It takes me hours to find something I actually do like. Which is why I got so flustered when John asked me to do exactly that. He says that when I'm feeling sad or insecure, I should name at least five things I like about myself. I've decided I want to avoid him for a while--that's why I'm sitting here writing to you. It's not impossible to name things I like—I love my smile--and John says it will get easier with time. But I'd still rather sit here instead. I hope you can read this. I just realized how messy my handwriting is. I bet John would have a fit if he heard me say that. "You're not supposed to be naming stuff you don't like!" I miss you, Anton. I can't wait to see your smile again. Maybe it's a newlywed thing, but I feel so lonely when you're not around. I miss hearing your voice, I miss your arms around me, your intelligence, the way you make me laugh, your beautiful eyes, the warmth of your body...even that little face you make when you think I've gone out of my mind. John says that I won't need you as much when I've gained confidence in myself, but I don't think that's true. I will always need you, and love you. And want you. God, I want you. I was so horny last night I wanted to scream! Do you think lovers can become obsessed with each other? I do. But I wonder if it's a bad thing. I mean, if I can't stop thinking of you for even an hour, does that mean there's something wrong with me? I hope not. I like thinking about you. Right now all I can think about is curling up in your lap and falling asleep against your chest. My second favorite way to fall asleep. Tomorrow is not going to be fun at all. John has a trip to the bank planned. He says I need to start saving for my future, because I can't be 100% sure that you'll take care of me if we ever divorce. Please don't take this the wrong way, because he really does like you. And I certainly don't ever anticipate us splitting up. Ever. But he says it would help me to feel more secure about myself if I had a strong financial base in case of emergency. I guess that's true, but I'm not looking forward to it. Just the idea of you and me even thinking of divorce scares me. I guess I should get back to the house. Dinner will be ready soon. You know, it's weird--I spent ten years of my life here being ignored, and now they treat me like a normal member of the family. Somehow I think you have something to do with that--they think now that I'm someone's wife, I must be normal. Not the freak they were once embarrassed by. And although that makes me angry, I really don't feel like bringing it up. This is my time to work on myself, not my parents. Anyway, I'll write more tomorrow. I love you bunches and bunches, sugar booger. Love, Bryn. This tim