Chapter Six
These tears on my face are for you,
I wish that I could hold you, touch you, feel you…
My heart is bleeding can’t you see?
I wish that you could hold me, touch me, feel me…
-The Moffatts, Misery
Catherine busied herself around the house, arranging the flowers in the
vase, wiping the tabletops and made a mental reminder that she had to get
the curtains.
She felt good that Mrs. Thomas knew her situation; she
didn’t want to hold anything back from such a kind woman. However,
there was still a heavy weight on her heart. She needed to get her mind off
things, especially her father. She debated whether she had been too harsh
with him. He had looked as if he had something important to tell her.
Sitting on a chair for a moment, she suddenly noticed that in the house,
there was not a single picture in sight. The walls were full of paintings,
but no pictures that told her of who was the owner and how he looked like.
All she knew from Nick was that the owner’s name was Brian. Of
course, there was totally no hope that her Brian was this Brian.
She
sighed. She had been working here for the past few days and still she had
not seen anyone else coming into the house, except for Nick, who was there
every afternoon, and some other three guys whose names were…Kevin,
Alex and Howie. They were nice guys, and she kept hearing about how it
would be a surprise for Brian, a new look for his house. Catherine ached to
see who this Brian was.
Nick had told her earlier that the master bedroom
was off limits to her. So far, she had stuck by the rule. Today, there was
a nagging feeling inside her that she couldn’t shake off.
Wiping her
hands on a napkin, she slowly climbed the steps up to the bedrooms. She
stopped just outside the master bedroom, and turned the knob before she
could chicken out. She quickly closed the door behind her.
The room was
dark, and it had a sort of…warm masculine smell. The bed sheets were
creased, and some clothes hung in the wardrobe and over the chairs. She
could make out a couple of picture frames on the dresser that were faced
down. In three quick strides she reached the dresser and slowly took one of
the frames. She turned it so that she could see. She frowned for a moment,
trying to make out the face clearly in the darkness. She drew the curtains
back a little.
She gave out a scream. She recognized that intense blue
eyes, the high forehead, the cheekbones…those lips which she had
first kissed…those lips which had teased her, smiled at her…
she recognized the people who were around
him…Harold…Jackie…
She dropped the picture as if a hot
flame had burned her fingers. It crashed to the floor, splinters of glass
flying everywhere.
She took a step or two backward, and rushed for the
door, her breathing ragged. It can’t be, it can’t be, she told
herself. She touched the chain around her neck, which she kept covered
inside her blouse. ‘It CANNOT be!’ her mouth screamed silently.
She practically ran down the stairs, wanting to get away from it all. Tears
came to her eyes but she blinked them back quickly. ‘I have to leave
this place,’ she told herself, as she took her handbag and gathered
her coat.
Just as she opened the door, Nick stood in front of her.
“Ding dong,” he said, a sheepish smile on his face.
Catherine
let out a small gasp, and went back a step or two. Nick came in, and looked
at her worriedly. Catherine’s cheeks had turned a pale pink and she
seemed flustered by something.
“Marie…is anything wrong?”
he asked, as he took her by the arms. Catherine massaged her forehead,
closing her eyes for a moment. This was all too much for her to take.
“I…err..mm…have to go home for a while. I’ll see
you tomorrow.” She said quickly, and left him.
Nick looked on
quizzically after her. Something was wrong. He closed the door and looked
around the house. Nothing seemed to be out of place. He ran up the stairs,
and noticed that Brian’s bedroom door was open. He poked his head
inside, and thinking that nothing was amiss, he closed the door back again,
never suspecting how it came to be open. In the darkness of the room on the
floor, the splinters of a glass picture frame still lay, surrounding the
smiling picture of Brian Thomas Littrell and his family.
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