The Vanishing Girls by Callie Browning (great novels of all time .txt) 📗

his lower jaw from left to right trying to determine if it was broken. Holden’s hands were clenched and he bit into his lip, trying to quell the rage that moved through his body like a low frequency vibration. Eileen had experienced Holden’s crankiness, frustration and restlessness before. But she’d never known his anger, never witnessed the all-consuming furore that turned him into a broad-shouldered beast.

The money slipped from Paul’s fingers; a stiff breeze caught the bills and blew them across the lawn where they landed in a bougainvillaea bush. Paul got unsteadily to his feet and stepped away from Eileen, his spidery bearing harmless once more. He stuck his hands in his pockets and gave his brother a wide berth before he sauntered through the french doors whistling the Bonanza theme song. Holden said nothing as Paul went inside. He gazed at Eileen, a mixture of anger and disgust on his face.

Eileen licked her lips. How much had Holden heard? Did he believe what Paul had said? Holden stepped slowly toward her and said, “I suggest that we talk privately for a moment.”

Eileen nodded numbly and hooked her arm in his. He didn’t retrace their steps through the large living room and the foyer where the pianist played a lilting ballad. Instead, Holden guided her to the garden, leading the way down a mossy path through the lush garden and out to a small utility gate. Eileen’s lip trembled and her face burned with embarrassment as she imagined what Holden would say. He’ll fire me, she thought miserably. Her eyes started to leak tears again. It was a childish thought, but all she could think was that it wasn’t fair.

At the end of the path, Holden released Eileen’s arm and pressed his back against the rough bark of a tamarind tree. It was hard to read the look on his face as he folded his arms across his chest. For a while, he stared down at his feet as though willing them to speak for him. She'd seen him do it before, weigh his words so they properly conveyed what he wanted to say. Eileen's anger bubbled as she watched him. Why drag this out? she wondered as her impatience grew. His fingers traced a line around his mouth and she was just about to tell him what he could do with his job when he held up a hand and said, “I’m sorry about Paul. He was an ass and I’ll deal with him tomorrow.” He exhaled and looked at her. “But what I want to know is why you didn’t tell me.”

The rage inside her deflated like a balloon and turned to exasperation. She threw up her hands and asked, “Tell you what? If I was packing shelves at the supermarket, would you have wanted to know that too?”

He shrugged. “Yes.”

Hands on her hips, she glared at him. “No, you wouldn’t. I don’t have time for all of this long talk. You're gonna fire me, but you know what? I don’t even care.”

She could barely see him in the darkness, hidden as he was by the tree’s shadow, but his deep voice was even and patient. “When did I say that?”

Eileen squinted at him in the dim moonlight trying to read the expression on his face. His question caught her off guard. Was he playing the diplomat and trying to make her quit?

“Eileen, I’m not a man of many words. I have my quirks. But that doesn’t mean that I consider you less of a person because of what you did before.”

“That’s what you say now. But in the end, you’ll always judge me.” Tears stung Eileen’s eyes, but she refused to cry again as she paced next to a rose bush.

“Eileen…” Holden stepped out of the shadows with his hands pushed deep into his pockets. “…have you ever considered that I always knew?”

Eileen spun around to face him. He couldn't be serious. But in the soft moonlight, Holden's face betrayed no laughter or mirth, just hopeful sincerity. It was one thing to be accepted; it was another to not have to seek acceptance. Eileen bit down, squeezing words between her teeth like an angry hiss. “You’re a liar.”

He blinked, looked down at his feet and then at hers. “It’s your shoes. I heard you pacing the corner that night. Same rhythm, same clicking heels. I had my suspicions, but the first morning you came to work and I heard you walking across the floor, I knew. You saw the sign I had stapled to the wall outside the building, didn’t you?”

Her lip trembled, but she nodded.

“I didn’t want to hire you at first — not because of what you did — but because you took my breath away when we first met. I didn’t want —” Holden threw up his hands and pressed his knuckles against his forehead. “The point is that I don’t care what you did before.”

Eileen started to cry. “But everybody else will know.”

Holden waved his hand dismissively at Paul’s house. "Ignore them. They’ll stew in their bitter juices until I or some other undertaker collects them.”

Holden held out his hands to her. Reluctantly, Eileen rested her hands in his, savouring the warmth of his large hands clasping hers. “The long and short of it is that I don’t want you to leave. You do a really good job. Plus, you actually brighten up that gloomy funeral parlour. Clifford is entertaining in his own annoying way, but you’re different.”

Eileen's heart fluttered in a way it never had.

“Will you stay with me?” he asked, stepping so close that there was not even a hair’s breadth between them.

Eileen felt faint. She had imagined this moment. Dreamed of being this close to him. She felt his breath on her lips, surrendered to the desire inside her that had yearned for him for weeks. His arms wrapped around her waist and their lips touched. Every nerve in her body tingled as his tongue slipped into her