M Sellars - All acts of pleasure

“Why can’t we just be normal?” she lamented.

I took in a deep breath then sighed. “Believe me, sweetheart. That’s one I’ve been asking myself for a long time now, and I don’t have an answer for it either.”

The ding of the doorbell joined together with the sound of shuffling footsteps on the front porch and was instantly followed by a quick round of yaps from the dogs, effectively bringing our moment to an end. I started up from the floor, but Felicity was already on her feet, quickly brushing her dampened cheeks with the back of her hand.

“I’ll get it,” she mumbled. “I’m closer.”

I stood up anyway and immediately began stepping around the semi-sorted piles to close the gap between us. My protective attitude regarding her was still set to high, and I wasn’t overly excited about her being the one to answer the door. At this stage of the game, it wasn’t out of the question for whoever was standing on the other side of it to be determined to snatch her away from me once again.

Reaching the door, she stood on tiptoe and put her eye to the peephole. Almost instantly, however, she pulled back and began quickly fumbling with the lock.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Austin!” she almost shrieked.

“Felicity, no!” I yelped, but I was too late. She had already pulled the door open wide and was rushing forward into an embrace with her brother.

“Austin!” she yelped his name again. “Gods! I thought you weren’t coming until the end of the week?”

I covered the remaining distance in a pair of steps, coming immediately behind my wife, my face wearing what had to be a mix of anger and fear.

“Mathair called me, so I changed my flight and got here yesterday,” he said to her as an explanation. “Are you okay, then?”

“I’m fine,” she replied. “I’m fine. Even better now.”

I hated to break up the reunion, but as far as I was concerned, my brother-in-law’s motives were still suspect. I started to reach for Felicity, but as I did Austin met my eyes with his own and spoke.

“Aye, Rowan,” he said almost apologetically. “It’s all right, then. You needn’t worry, I’m sober. And, I’m only here to talk this time.”

“What?” Felicity asked, pulling back and casting her puzzled glance back and forth between us. “What do you mean this time? What are you talking about?”

“Austin and I visited with one another last night before you called,” I answered, my voice flat.

She looked back at me with a puzzled frown. “What? You knew he was already here, and you didn’t tell me?”

“Given how it went, it wasn’t exactly high on my priority list.”

“Don’t blame him, Felicity, it’s understandable,” Austin interjected. “Like Rowan said, it wasn’t what you would call a pleasant meeting.” He gave her a meek shrug then nodded toward me. “I’m afraid I’m the one responsible for marking up his face.”

My wife instantly turned a heated glare back at her brother and snapped, “You hit him?”

“Aye, I hate to…”

The rest of his sentence was cut short by the sound of Felicity’s open palm connecting firmly with his cheek.

“I can’t believe you would let our father get to you that way, Austin,” my wife admonished her brother as she placed a cup of coffee in front of him then scooted into a seat on the opposite side of the breakfast nook.

Between the two of us, we had given her a rough sketch of the events that had transpired the previous evening before I received her call. Austin volunteered the fact that he had spent the night only a few miles away in a cell at the Briarwood police station. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to be holding a grudge against me in that regard. Of course, Ben may not have told him that I had sanctioned the idea, and right now wasn’t the time for me to be making confessions.

“Well, remember, I was drinking,” he offered as an explanation.

“Obviously,” she shot back. “But, even then you should know better.”

“Maybe you’re right. I don’t know for sure,” he half-agreed. “I’ll be honest, I didn’t believe him, not at first. Not until he showed me the letters. Then I had to start wondering if maybe he was telling the truth.”

“Letters?” she asked. “What letters?”

“That’s a little detail that got left out earlier,” I offered.

“Go on, then,” she urged. “One of you add it back in.”

“He has letters, Felicity,” Austin began. “From you. Letters written in your own hand begging him to help you get away from Rowan and his cult.”

“Cac capaill!” she spat, screwing up her face and shaking her head adamantly. “He does not.”

“Aye, he does. He showed them to me.”

“Are you sure you didn’t imagine all of this, Austin? Just how much did you drink last night?”

“I didn’t imagine them, Felicity.”

She shook her head again. “I know he’s got his problems with Rowan and our religious path, but that’s just insane.”

“You’re not going to get any argument from me there,” I interjected.

“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t. Can you explain them?” Austin asked.

“Yes. Like I said, you were imagining things.”

“Hand to God, dear sister, I saw them with my own eyes.”

“And, were you already seeing double?”

He shook his head and objected. “I may have been drinking, but I was sober enough to know what I saw.”

“I can’t imagine why daid would make up something like that, but all I can tell you is that they aren’t real.”

“Are you certain?” he pressed.

“Aye, do you think I’m daft? Don’t you think I would know if I had written them?”

I watched as Austin hemmed and hawed for a moment then made a shallow nod in my direction. I’m sure he thought he was doing it on the sly, but I caught it easily, and the significance of the motion wasn’t lost on me.

“What?” Felicity asked, shaking her head. “Spit it out.”

“He’s trying to tell you he thinks you might be lying because you’re under duress since I’m sitting right here,” I offered.

“That’s ridiculous!” she sputtered.

“I can go in the other room if it would make you feel better, Austin,” I offered flatly, starting to rise from my chair.

“You, stay put,” Felicity ordered, then she turned back to her brother. “Austin, are you still drunk? Do I look to you like I’m afraid of my husband?”

“No, but the letters were written in your own hand, Felicity,” he appealed. “How can you explain that?”

“How can you be so sure?” she countered. “When did you become an expert on handwriting analysis? And, besides that, when did you last see anything I’d written by hand?”

“He showed me some old letters you sent home from university,” Austin explained. “I checked and the handwriting looked the same to me.”

“Well, I’m telling you…” she started then immediately stopped herself and cocked her head to the side thoughtfully. After a moment she resumed speaking. “Wait a minute. He had the letters I’d sent home from school?”

“Aye, that’s what I said.”

“Did you ask to see those?”

“No, he just offered.”

“That’s it then.”

“What’s it?”

“Remember when we were kids, how daidi used to have people write down their names, and then after looking at the signature for a minute, he would make a copy with his own hand?”

“Aye,” Austin replied with a slow nod. “I do remember that.”

“Shamus was into forgery?” I queried.

“No.” Felicity shot me a glance and gave a quick shake of her head. “It was just a trick he could do, a bizarre talent. He used to entertain everyone by doing it. Of course, they weren’t perfect, but they were close enough.”