Okay, this took longer than expected, but becauses of pressures as school (mostly exams) I've had less time to write. Finally, here is chapter four of Wicked Fascination. I hope you enjoy it. (This is for you Cay, lol.) And I'd appreciate a few comments - but they're not compulsory!

Chapter four.

The lazy days ahead.

I suppose I slept well, though I don’t really remember if I dreamt or not. I was too busy sleeping off the cold that had already begun to develop from my wonderful dance in the rain with the gardener, and my nose was so blocked I could barely breathe. I don’t think mom was best pleased with me either, not after she found my dress (the one that I have conveniently forgotten about) still lying in the washing machine. I really had ruined it now.

The discovery of my foul smelling dress led to a long foul interrogation from my mother as we sat at the breakfast table. In front of me I picked reluctantly at a bowl of soggy cereal and stroked a glass of orange juice distractedly with the other hand.

“What were you doing outside in weather like that anyway?”

“How was I supposed to know it was going to rain?” Sullenly I swirled the cereal around the bowl some more, splashing milk onto the counter. My mother winced as the milk dripped over the edge of the blue bowl and I could see her itching to grab a dish cloth to wipe it up with.

“You saw the weather forecast just the same as I did, and I managed to keep myself dry.” She threw a smoky glower in my direction that was supposed to make me quiet down; it only succeeded in making me more angry though, and much more likely to lose control.

“Maybe I wasn’t watching the weather, anyways. What if I was doing something else?” I slammed my spoon down into the bowl, listening with a kind of pride as I heard a faintly metallic sound when the spoon cracked against the pottery. More milk sloshed down the side, but I don’t think even my mom was heedful of that any more.

“Well maybe you should have been paying more attention.” She retorted angrily, throwing another frosty glare in my direction. “Maybe it’s time you grew up and started taking more responsibility for your actions.”

Before I could help myself I had picked up my glass of orange juice and I was halfway to the door; my eyes watering, my head spinning, and my cheeks burning crimson.

“Yeah mom. Maybe you’re right.” I bit my lip thoughtfully, trying to say this in the way that would hurt the most. “But you should probably speak to Sue about responsibility before you go off on another one. I’m sure she’ll approve.”

I didn’t really know why I had said what I had done, but all I knew was the burning desire in my chest to hurt. I wanted to pinch, to scratch, bite, anything so long as I could hear her in pain. I certainly felt a little better after saying it. Even the tiny worm of guilt crawling up into my stomach that reminded me that she was still my mom, and I shouldn’t be so hasty to judge her, couldn’t make me feel bad. Maybe I should have felt guilty; after all she was trying her best to be a good mother. It wasn’t her fault she was so careless with her offspring, but the thought of Susan lying in that hospital bed with that great blossom of a bruise across her face soon made me reconsider. Of course it was her fault, if she’d put down that bottle of drink for more than a few hours she’d soon see what it was like on the other side of the glass.

I stormed up to my bedroom in a flurry of curses and stumbles. Showering quickly I finished off my orange juice and got dressed, hastily as I could, pulling a new dress from the wardrobe and getting ready to start again. I thought back to the morning before, when Dad has snapped at me for not being ready, and I was soon ready to take back what I had said. Dad used to be more moody than my mom, and I’d never been afraid to say so. Until now.

It was going to take more than a cold shower to calm me down now, so I gave up before I even started, and sat on my bed, looking out of the window. Waiting for Cassidy to turn up, I took out the small notebook that I normally kept in my pocket. I had left it at home yesterday, and had been too tired to even consider writing anything last night, so now I took it up in my fingers, running my nails along the soft white paper.

A jumble of words threatened to flow from my finger tips before I could even manage to pick up a pen, but as soon as I felt the cold metal in my fingers, I didn’t know what to write any longer. The story I had been working on seemed inconsequential and boring compared to everything else I had written in the past. I wanted to write poems, and long, dark words made of raw feeling and emotion. I wanted to write so much, in so little space and time, and yet I found to my dismay nothing would transfer from my brain to my fingers. Perhaps it was a writer’s block.

I had written only two words when I heard heavy footsteps coming up to my room. I tensed up, thinking it was mom, but soon relaxed when I heard the familiar voice bounce off the door.

“Jo? You decent?” Cass opened the door a crack, and I made a sound in the affirmative.

“Uhhuh.” Decent as I was going to get in the next few days.

“Oh good.” She opened the door fully and came in, and smile on her pink face. “How are you feeling today?”

“A little better than yesterday, but then, yesterday was pretty bad wasn’t it?”

“For you, maybe.” Mockingly Cassidy shook her head. “I swear you get more melodramatic every day.” She paused, and came to sit on the bed next to me, eyeing my notebook. “I heard what happened with your sister.”

“Yeah?”

“Your mom told me. How is she?” She bit her lip and frowned, pulling the pages from in between my fingers, frozen in place over the words.

“Those are private.” I took the book back unhurriedly, and folded the pages back so that nobody could read them, slipping it into the big pocket of my jumper. “I don’t know. Dad’s with her right now, and I don’t get to find out how she is either until dad swaps with mom, or Sue comes home.”

I looked out of the window, and across out to the gardens. The light outside looked warm and yellow, a butter colour on the grass. Sighing I heaved myself from the bed and crossed over to the windowsill. All remnants of yesterday's flash storm were gone, not even the ground seemed damp from this high up. I saw birds circling up high, and felt the urge to go out there and join them; I wanted to fly up there in the open expanse of blue with nothing to worry about. Nobody and nothing would be able to keep me from doing whatever the hell I wanted to do.

“Jo? You listening to me?”

“Yeah.”

“No you’re not. Look at me.” I turned my face from the light outside and focused on the roundness of Cassidy’s face in the semi-darkness. At first I saw nothing but a blur of shadows, but soon my eyes readjusted, and I saw the look of concern etched into her features.

“I’m listening. I was just thinking, that’s all.” I shrugged my shoulders and picked up my backpack from the floor. “Shall we go then?”

“Sure.” A little bewildered, Cass followed me from my room down the stairs and slowly out of the door. For once, when I wanted to stand outside and feel the breeze across my face, the bus was on time.

The day was a warm one, just as the sunny skies and butter coloured light had foretold. I passed through my lessons with little interest, nothing unusual there, although I found that I couldn’t concentrate even on the little bits of information I did find interesting. I was counting down the hours until lunch when I would be able to wander the grounds again, free of gossip and dull conversation about how bad the weather was yesterday. There was only one person I wanted to have that conversation with; Ethan.

Finally the bell rang out signalling not only the end of the period, but the start of lunch. Quicker than usual I gathered my books into my rucksack and shrugged my cardigan over my shoulders. The weather outside didn’t particularly permit the wearing of the highschool garment, but I’d soon decided that I couldn’t be bothered to cart the damned thing around any other way. It was blue, too, a dark colour that absorbed the heat and held it close to my skin.

Even this couldn’t pull me from my lighter mood though, and I bounced out of the classroom with renewed vigour, and headed to the gardens.

The sunlight streamed over the still slightly damp grass and green ferns. I followed the dust motes as they twirled in front of my eyes, and then traced their paths in the air with my fingers. A sweet smelling breeze wafted across the courtyard, which I breathed in gratefully. The light coloured statue of Mary stood high above me, guarding over her pool of crystal liquid. I smiled at the sight of her, and mentally apologised for my appalling behaviour from the day before. As if she was forgiving me, a swirl of wind shook my hair loose from its plait, and pulled it in wisps across my face.

I decided to eat before I went to go and see if he was there; knowing that if he wasn’t I’d be in no mood to eat later anyway. I pulled the silver foil-wrapped sandwiches from inside me bag and ate them slowly, my mind wandering in all sorts of different directions.

Seated on the cool stone rim of the fountain I felt a surge of inspiration, suddenly knowing what my story was missing. It had been staring me in the face the whole time. All I needed now was something, or someone, to keep the heroine from being taken into the evil dictator’s grasp. All I needed was a hero.

“Lovely day.” I swallowed the bite of sandwich with a gulp and spun on my seat to face where the voice had come from. The sound was rich, and dark like silk. It was also very un american.

“Oh, hello.” Blushing, I half waved at the gardener, watching cautiously as he tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

“It’s you again; Jodhi, right?” There was laughter in his voice, but also, I noted, a little delighted surprise. I nodded and scrunched up the silver foil into a ball, slipping it into the open part of my bag.

“And you’re Ethan- the gardener.”

He grinned. “You remembered my name?”

“You remembered mine.” How could I not remember his name? It was all I had thought about since I’d learned it the day before. He smiled at me, and raised his eyes.

“Fair point. You’re right, I did.” He was stood, hovering above me with that lopsided grin on his face”

I sat in silence not sure exactly what to say. Consciously I shuffled my feet against the floor, rubbing the leather soles of my shoes against the cobblestones. Ethan looked equally uncomfortable. He rubbed his bare forearms, rolling and unrolling the sleeves of his light blue shirt- the same kind, I noticed, that he had been wearing the day before.

“Would you like to-”

“Can I see the-” We both started to speak at once, and I instantly turned away, hiding from view the plum colour of my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, you speak.” Ethan smiled and brushed his hair from his forehead, looking up at the sun and squinting.

“Okay.” I paused, and gathered my thoughts; now he was listening to me properly, I found it hard to speak. It was as if a large piece of something was lodged in my throat, and I could neither swallow, nor spit it out. “I was just going to ask you if I could see the plants you were working on yesterday. I hope the rain didn’t do too much damage?” My voice sounded soft, and when he didn’t answer I thought for a moment that he hadn’t heard me. I was about to ask the question again when he grinned; the lopsided goofy smile made me stare at him more closely. I marked with my eyes the laughter lines around his mouth, and the crows feet near his eyes. He didn’t seem that old, and I assumed they were from either laughing, or crying. I certainly hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

“Actually,” he began, “I was just going to suggest that you come see what you helped me to save.” With the same smile he began to turn away, back in the direction he had come from, and the way I had approached with fearful curiosity the day before.

I nodded and began to pack my things away. I could feel my heart fluttering in my chest, banging agitatedly against the boundaries of my ribcage in a futile attempt to escape; to run away from the nervousness that had begun to settle over me. I knew I shouldn’t be nervous, that the butterflies in my stomach were only my imagination, and they wouldn’t burst out at the first opportunity, but that didn’t stop them from building up inside, nor did it stop me from clamping my mouth shut in an attempt to keep them hidden away inside.

“I’d love to see it.” Finally I managed to stammer than single sentence, finish stuffing my half eaten food back into my backpack and hop to my feet, rather un gracefully. Luckily Ethan was looking the other way, his gaze focused over the hedges to an area of the gardens which I couldn’t see. I tried to watch his eyes, but the sun was bright, and all I could make out in the light was his silhouette against the bright cerulean sky.

“Follow me?” It was more of a question than a statement, and in my utterly bewildered and distracted state, I think I would have followed him to almost any place he asked me. I guess it was just lucky he was almost as embarrassed as I was.

I swung my bag across my back and began to follow him as he walked out of the stone circle and between the hedges. The sunlight played across the grooves in the cobbles, and soon we were walking along little dirt pathways that had been made since the redevelopment had started. We crossed the grass which was still slightly damp, and headed over to the patch of roses, and other flowers I didn’t know the names of, that Ethan had been planting previously, before the rain storm.

“They’re looking lovely.” I pointed to the white roses that were growing to my right, and in my haste to rush over to them I almost caught my heavy shoe around the roots of a small tree which had been laid out ready for planting. I stumbled forward, almost into Ethan’s side, but his expert reflexes kicked in and he swung his arm out clumsily to catch me as I fell. I felt his strong arms wrap around my shoulders as he steadied me, and I blushed a deep shade of purple.

“Careful!” His raised voice was full of surprise, and instantly I felt bad. I hung my head, staring at the flowers by my feet.

“Sorry...” I murmured self consciously. I didn’t quite catch what Ethan said next, but I could tell from his voice, rich and smooth as it was, that he was holding back laughter. Looking up I found that a smile crept onto my own lips and my blush raged even more.

“I’m so clumsy.”

“Never mind, eah?” Slowly, and I hadn’t even realised his hands were still on my back, he moved away. I was suddenly made aware of the coldness of my dress against my skin as the warmth of his fingers dissipated into the atmosphere. A breeze blew against me, and I felt in that moment as if it could push me over, pull my away from him, and it made me fearful; I had never felt that way about anybody before, and I wasn’t sure what it really meant.

“I guess.” I didn’t know what else to say, and I was still recovering from the loss of his warmth as he stepped out of my way. His index finger, long and regal looking in the odd light, pointed to a patch of grass where the mud was ruling the area. I could see that the plants were missing from the spot, and that there were still a number of brown, mud-coated rocks that sat in a vague square like a border between the plentiful plants and the mucky circle. It wasn’t until I had studied this space for a minute that I saw the hole which had been dug out in the middle. It was still roughly circular in shape, and I felt a smile break out across my features as I realised that the rain hadn’t entirely destroyed what Ethan had been working on.

“See? The rain didn’t do much to it.” Ethan gestured again, as if I hadn’t seen it, and I nodded enthusiastically.

“Wow. That blue sheet thing really worked!”

“Yeah, the ground sheet was a life saver.” Ethan looked over to me, and my heart thudded in response. “A little like you.” He laughed a little at that, a deep throaty chuckle which made his eyes light up like sapphires. I found the laughter catching, once again, and smiled myself. “I don’t know if I would have been able to save it without your help.” I blushed again.

“It was nothing-”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ethan cut me off with a gentle hand on my arm which he quickly withdrew when I started. Almost instantly I wished I hadn’t moved, because now his hand had touched my skin, I felt cold without his heat. It wasn’t even cool outside. I was silent, and I looked up into his eyes expectantly, waiting for him to continue. It took him a moment, but his eyes searched the sky while he spoke. He talked as if I wasn’t there, gazing lovingly across the plants that he had so carefully nutured, and back to the sky which had provided the disastrous downpour, and was now smiling happily.

“I know it might not seem like much, but gardening is my passion, and I often find that the weather can ruin things I’ve spent so hard to create, and mould.” He gestured with his hands at the roses surrounding the hole; they looked sorry for themselves, as if the heavy rain had dampened their spirits and causes them to droop physically. “I always spend so much time on my own, and it’s sometimes hard to cope. That’s why I was so grateful when you came to my rescue yesterday. I’d spent most of the morning digging that hole, ready for the tree, and it would have been a shame to lose that precious time. I know to you it is just a hole, but to me it is the minutes I spent digging it that count. I only have a few months here, and I want to be able to make a difference...” He trailed off, a glazed look veiling his emotions as he stared out over the school building, and into the endless expanse of blue.

I felt my heart leap again, this time not for nerves, or embarrassment, but for the shock of his last words. Only a few months? Why?

“Are you leaving soon?” I stammered, my ears rushing with emotion. The sound almost drowned out his reply.

“Yeah. I’m going back to England soon, back home. This is my last job around here.” He shook his head, and looked to me. “Shouldn’t bother you too much though; I’m sure you’ll appreciate the garden much more when it’s not spitting mud at you left, right and centre.” I smiled, somewhat depressed. Only a few months.

“Can I-” I began, still nervous. “Would you mind awfully much if I helped out then? If you’re not here for long, I mean...” I wrung my hands and bit my lip. “I’d like to be able to see what the garden can do. I’m not very good with plants, but I could learn? And I’ve always liked being outside.”

“Even if it means giving up your lunch times?” Ethan didn’t seem to question why I wanted to help, and I silently prayed that he didn’t know about the burning knot of frustration in my chest, but he didn’t say anything incriminating, and surely I had hidden it from him. After all, I had only met him once before, and I was behaving exactly the same this time, maybe he would just think that was how I always acted?

“Yes. I don’t mind much. My friends sing, at the choir, so I’m on my own most of the time-” Great. Now I sounded like a loner.

“Of course. Well, in that case, I guess I’d love the extra pair of hands.”

Smiling I knelt down by the hole and inspected the damage, running my fingers over the creamy roses around it. Things had happened so fast, like in a book, and I almost couldn’t believe that I hadn’t been told to get lost yet. That’s the way things seem to happen with him though; always fast, so fast I was swept from my feet.

That’s how things began, and that’s how things continued. For the next few months until the end of term, I studied as normal, and in my spare time I would help Ethan. He taught me how to appreciate natural beauty, he showed me how to safely plant a tree, a rose bush, to dig a decent hole. His careful hands guided me through the motions of growth, and the cycles of death and birth. And slowly I learnt more about him, too. He told me about his parents, and their small estate in England. How they used to own an orchard, until his father lost money, and he left home.

In return for this valuable information, which I held close to my heart, I told him about my family. Susan, whom was still recovering from her nasty fall, and my mother the alcoholic. I explained to him about my father’s job, and his long absences which sometimes meant I was all alone, and all though this Ethan nodded sympathetically and comforted me. He grew to be my closest friend over those months, and every day I felt that I knew him more. By the time the summer was in full swing, I wanted to be more than his friend; not only was he my crush, but I would have done anything for him, and soon I began to think that he felt the same way.

Those lazy days, where we lay in the grass after school, and I escaped from my house as often as possible, were the best of my childhood. There was nothing that Ethan couldn’t do, and in the hazy lights that swarmed over us, I felt like I could be like him. I could do anything. I could stop my mother from drinking, I could save my sister from the falls, and the hospital trips which became more and more frequent as the months progressed. When I got home, things changed, and I was no longer free to magic all my pain away with the flick of a wrist and the prickle of the sweet smelling grass under my body.

My solution: spend more time with Ethan, and maybe his luck and magic carelessness would rub off on me. I spent my breaks, lunches, and even most of my evenings with his arm around my shoulders. We talked about everything, anything that came to mind. We wrote together, drew, and planted roses, hyacinths and lillies gallore. The hyacinths were his favourite, the blue ones that we planted by the Virgin Mary statue. He said they reminded him of his mother. They reminded me of him.

On the weekend before he was due to be leaving, the air was full of a melancholy depression that seemed to seep into everything I touched. I wrote, and I drew, but nothing was the same. I couldn’t understand how something so magic could just disappear as he was about to, and I thought to myself that I wouldn’t survive without his gentle hands to guide me.

On that weekend he phoned my house; he said he got the number from the phone book. Luckily my mother picked the phone up- I say lucky simply because she was drunk at the time, and believed Ethan when he told her he was from school, even though it was a Saturday night. His voice to me sounded like heaven, especially as it was against such a devilish background of sadness. He asked me to meet him at the school; he wanted to show me something. Naturally I agreed, not knowing that what would happen next would change the course of my life, forever.

xx

(I hope the spelling/grammar errors aren't too much for you to handle! I'm having trouble with checking at the moment, though... It shouldn't last longer than this novel! haha. Thanks for reading.)