The whole time, she held her sister’s shaking frame in her arms, not
ready to let her go. The way the other woman’s nails dug into her
clothes as if she was the last thing that kept her from drowning, the way
she openly sobbed into her shoulder, the way her tears wetted the
younger Beauchamp’s tender ski n — it all showed Wendy that whatever
this burden was her sister was carrying with her, it was bigger than
whatever had been. And it showed her that she needed to be there for
her. Whatever it was, it seemed to eat its way through her sister’s body
and mind, keeping her from trusting her sister with whatever it was that
was going on. Not that she was angry at her, but she didn’t understand
what it could be, that had the other woman so shaken up, in a way the
raven-haired woman hadn’t seen her since the day Victor left. What had
happened, that she couldn’t tell her about it? What was so horrible,
that she thought it would destroy the family if she worded it? What was
so shocking, that she couldn’t even trust her sister with it? What was
so terrible, that she was so shaken up, clutching to her sister as if
this was the last time she ever got to hold her like this?
She only wished she could do something. A spell, a potion, something,
that would show the younger Beauchamp just what was going on. No
matter how hard she had tried to read her sister’s aura, this was
something even she couldn’t get through, and Wendy had no idea why.
Was she closing herself off so much, that Wendy didn’t stand a single
chance of knowing what was going on? The only question was, why?
Was it really so bad that she needed to shut her off so much? That she
wouldn’t even talk to her and try to keep as much distance from her as
possible? She tried to think, tried to remember all the different
occasions her sister had acted out of the ordinary. Or well, out of the
ordinary was something that had never really went for them. Nothing
about them was ordinary. Their relationship was more than just the one
of two sisters taking care of each other and protecting each other. Their
relationship was one of two parts of a soul, of two pieces of a puzzle
that fit together to perfectly and created one big image. Joanna was her
other half in so many ways. Yes, she was her sister, but she was so
much more than that. She always had been. So why did she close her
off like this?
The way her sister’s nails dug into her flesh was almost painful, yet
Wendy let herself being pulled as close as possible. But there was
still one question that echoed in the younger Beauchamp’s mind. Why?
What was it, that let her sister break down like this and sob
uncontrollably into the crook of her neck. The bittersweet pain in her
back only proved that there was more to this, than the older sister let
on. Slender fingers slowly but soothingly running through the other
woman’s silky hair, Wendy tried to provide as much comfort as she
could. No one was here, no prying eyes of her nieces, that wondered
what was going on with their mom. Tonight, it was only them. And
maybe it was better this way. She didn’t want the girls to see their
mother like this. It had already been bad enough when she had lost
Victor back in the day, and with him every sense of taking care of
herself or her family. Back then, it had already been hard enough for
the girls to deal with the broken mess that was their mother. Not to
mention Joanna having to deal with having no other choice but sign
the death sentence of her own daughter. Wendy had seen her sister
in many states of mind. She had been there for her every time the
girls lost another life and were reborn. She had been strong for her.
But the only times she was so shaken up, was when she lost the
girls once more and knew the circle would start all over again.
Finally, Joanna pulled away and Wendy just looked at her, waiting for
some kind of explanation, some kind of story that would finally tell her
what was going on, something that would tell her why exactly her
sister was so shaken — almost broken. She intertwined the other
woman’s fingers with her own, signalizing her that she was here, even
though she didn’t hold her in her arms, she was still here. She was
here and she wouldn’t go anywhere. And if she wanted her, she would
always stay at her side. If only Wendy knew what it was, that had made
the other woman act like this. All those little gestures, small remarks
that seemed like nothing but had gotten Wendy to think. She had
passed them off as jokes, nothing more than that. What else could it
be, right? Hell, she herself had said things like the remarks that had
fallen from her sister’s lips. But with her, everyone knew it was her.
No one questioned it, no one even wasted a second thought about
them. So what was it? Was her sister trying to be like her? Was she
trying to imitate her? Was there any other logical explanation for it?
But if it was only that, why were those tears running down the other
woman’s cheeks in a way she had only seen it when the girls had died
once more?
Why did Joanna think she needed protection? Why did she think her
not telling her the truth would make anything better? Why did she think
shutting Wendy out was the best thing she could do, if she wanted to
protect the family? She didn’t understand. And that was something,
that her whole expression mirrored. Confusion. Complete and utter
confusion. This didn’t make any sense. N othing of this did. Not the
remarks, not the way she broke down, not the way she was refusing
to talk to her. Did she really think she couldn’t trust Wendy with what-
ever it was that was going on? Did she really think shutting her out was
the best way she could go?
Didn’t she? Did she really not understand what was going on? Or did
she just try to push the most obvious and at the same time absurdest
thought away? Because no, the only explanation Wendy had was
completely and utterly ridiculous, wasn’t it? But for some reason, it all
made sense. All of a sudden, everything seemed to fit into place. The
way she closed herself off, the way she obviously tried to control the
way her aura looked to the younger Beauchamp, the remarks that
were most of the time followed by a slight blush, sometimes even an
expression Wendy knew from her sister, when she had accidentally
said too much. Was it really that ridiculous? Was the thought really
that absurd? Maybe it was the only explanation that at the moment
really made sense. And as much as she wanted to ask if her
suspicions were true, she didn’t dare to do so. What if they weren’t?
She knew she would make a complete idiot out of herself, if she was
wrong. Joanna would probably look at her in a way Wendy never
wanted her to look at her. But Wendy was also terrified. What if it was
true? What if she was right? What would change between them?
Would there change anything between them? She just hoped that
she was right as much as she feared it. Because if she was, what
would that mean for them? What would it mean for the family? What
would it mean for her?
❝ I don’t need protection. What I need is for you to tell
me what is going on. It kills me to see you like this. ❞
Their fingers threaded together and Joanna could feel the sparks of
pure energy course through her veins. It was another one of those little
quirks that set them apart from most siblings. And it was another thing
that Joanna lived for. No one else, in all her years, not even Victor, had
been able to create that same spark. It was unique to Wendy. Just as
was the unsteady heartbeat that pounded deep in Joanna's chest
when her sister was around. Just as the butterflies that fluttered in her
stomach as if she was a high school freshman. Wendy had this ability
to make Joanna feel as if she was barely 16 years old, dealing with a
crush for the first time. And she battled between hating it & loving it.
Another war that waged on endlessly. This is what her life had become.
Battle between head and heart. Logic and love. A tiresome war that
had no end in sight. No winner. Only a loser. And in the end, it would be
Joanna that lost. But the price of this war wouldn't be her life, it would
be something far more important — the love of her sister.
All too familiar thoughts seemed to skip across her mind, keeping her
from speaking. This was the ongoing problem. Wendy let her know she
would be there for her, no matter what, and all Joanna could think of
was how she would react when she found out what she had really been
hiding from her. This was so much bigger than anything she had kept
to herself over the centuries. She had known, one day, all her lies were
going to catch up to her. But this had been one she wanted to stay
buried. As much as she wished to take her sister in her arms and let
out her confession of love, she had also wished to take her secret to her
grave. The latter was the safer option. It was the one that promised
Wendy would always be by her side, not running in the other direction.
It kills me to see you like this. At her sister's final word, Joanna bent
her head, just enough to press her lips gingerly to Wendy's knuckles. It
was all she could think to do, the only form of an apology that she
could offer. This was her heart. The pain that rested in Wendy's heart,
the one that shown through in her eyes, she had created that. The utter
confusion that forced a knit in her brow, that cross her angelic features,
Joanna had been the cause. And the fear. The fear that rested behind
her eyes, hidden to anyone who didn't know her well enough, that had
also been Joanna's fault. A slip here, a slip there. At the time it had all
seemed harmless enough. And now she could clearly see the
consequences of her actions. If only she could fix the damage with soft
kisses and words of love. It took a moment before the older Beauchamp
pulled back. Her lips had lingered for too long against her sister's skin.
She had indulged herself for too long and it was time to face reality. It
was time, even for a moment, to let down her guard; to allow the wall
she had built to be cracked. Shutting Wendy out wasn't working. It only
made the younger more curious, more determined to help. And frankly,
Joanna should have known better. No one understood Wendy the way
she did. Nobody could know the way she worked to the same level that
Joanna did. She understood that Wendy would do anything and
everything for her family. And she knew that the more she shut her out,
the harder Wendy would pry. It was just who she was. It wasn't
something Joanna would ever want to change. Even now, though her
instincts told her to hide, to keep her feelings to herself, she needed her
sister to pull her out of hiding.
It was all she could muster. After everything, those three little words are
the only ones her shaking lips will allow her to speak. She didn't dare
try to mask the romantic undertones. She didn't try to conceal the way
her voice cracked and her fingers clutched to Wendy's. This was it. This
was the moment where she found out just how strong their bond was. &
while once upon a time Joanna had believed they were strong enough to
survive anything, she sat in total and complete fear. They had been apart
for a hundred years. For so long they had been joined at the hip. It was
almost impossible to see Joanna and not see Wendy close behind. And
vice versa. Wendy and Joanna. Joanna and Wendy. They were a
package deal. Two hearts, but one soul. What if this was their breaking
point? What if Wendy couldn't look passed this? Or worse, what if she
could but it forever changed the way she looked at Joanna? That wasn't
a thought she could even bare. Eyes fell from her sister's gaze. They
locked on their hands, her finger again tracing circle's against Wendy's
skin. A habit. An addiction. Contact with her sister was more than just
that, it was a life source for Joanna. It gave her the fuel she needed to
be strong, to accept that things didn't always work out, and even now
it was giving her the strength to admit the things she had never told
anyone. The things she had hardly ever admitted to herself.
A sigh once more worked through her lips. She wondered how many
times tonight she had sighed. She wondered how she still had the
energy to let them flow. Tears still trickled from the corners of her eyes.
The flow had admittedly slowed down, but they had by no means come
to a completely halt. There were too many of them. They had been kept
locked away for too many years. And as the flood gates opened, they
took advantage of their freedom. Inside, Joanna still felt utterly weak.
As if she had broken a promise to herself. And each time a new tear fell
she cursed it. For somewhere she knew that each tear held a memory.
A time when she had wished to press her lips to her sister's to share
her excitement. A time when she needed to be held in the cold dead of
night. A time when she had wanted so much more for Wendy and for
herself. Each tear wasn't just a tear. It was the acceptance of her
feelings. And it was worse than she could have ever imagined.
❛ I didn't want to say anything. I didn't want you to think any
less of me. Or go running off. I can't lose you again, Wendy. ❜
So many unanswered questions. So many things she couldn't bring
herself to ask. Not yet. She needed a reaction. She needed something
that would tell her Wendy understood. Something that would give her
clarity. Was it rejection she now faced? Or was it acceptance? Or had
she confused her sister even more? Anticipation raced through the
veins of the older Beauchamp, while her eyes remained fixed on their
intertwined fingers. Every so gently did she loosen her grip, her
intention being to let Wendy know, she would understand if she wished
to sever the physical contact. But her eyes, the eyes she kept hidden,
told the story of how much she needed it. What did this mean for them?
And now just for them, for their family? She could never tell the girls. &
she would never dare tell Victor. But more than any of the questions,
more than any of the fears, what Joanna felt most was guilt. She had
now burdened her sister. She had given her the curse of knowing. And
that was a fate she would not wish on her worst enemy. The only thing
she could do now was try to push her feelings back into the jar they
had exploded from. If they were accepted or rejected, they couldn't be
acted on. For that burden, the burden of forbidden love, was not
one she could ever ask Wendy to carry.
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