The Space Between (19 page)

He also thought of Emily. She seemed even further from him now, part of a whole other world that he was slowly losing touch with. If he returned to
Nashville
, would she still seem like a part of that life? Even a year after her death, Isaac was still waking almost every morning and feeling a small part of her there, lingering like a wisp of ghostly smoke that broke apart when he opened his eyes, leaving its scent behind for the entire day. Now that his heart was focused on
Elizabeth
, he wasn't sure he would still think of Emily in the same way. That possibility awakened a strange, new sadness within him. He felt as if that part of his life was finally breaking away from him, or vice versa, and the space it left might even be filled, but would forever feel slightly numb and just a little bit empty.

You have to decide who it is you are.

Walter's words popped up now and then in Isaac's thoughts as he sat there. He had a pretty good idea what the old man had meant. It wasn't supposed to be a cue for him to go out and "find himself"; he'd always had a strong sense of self. No, Walter had meant that Isaac needed to decide what he was willing to risk his life for, how far he was willing to travel for the things he believed in. For too long Isaac had considered the accident that took Emily's life an indication of personal failure. Perhaps this was his chance to prove that theory wrong. Was he willing to risk everything — his career, his music, his life — for a woman he hardly knew, all because he lost a woman he loved and still felt responsible?

He sat there picking at the dead leaves and twigs around his legs and considered those things: family, love, freedom. Simple concepts for most folks, he reasoned, but each had taken on a different meaning when he placed them in the context of his current situation. He had no doubt that he was developing feelings for
Elizabeth
. He wasn't sure how much of that had to do with being so lonely, her resemblance to Emily, or just the desire to come to her rescue. The complications were obvious, but he hoped like hell to find a way around them. Because he realized her freedom was at stake — her
life
— he would do what he needed to simply protect her. And it was the possibility of his love for her that made her a part of his family. Understanding
that
made his decision much easier.

Family
.

Isaac heard Walter's shaky voice in his thoughts. What had the old man meant about being responsible to his family? Isaac still had no idea how he had been dragged into the
Willoughby
clan. Then again, Walter had seemed to be referring more to his own family, his children and grandchildren. Trying to find a connection between himself and Walter Willoughby's clan was even more confounding. Who were his children? Did Isaac know them? For that matter, what relation was Walter-

Isaac felt the knowledge hit him dead in the chest, sinking deep into his bones and vibrating there. He looked for a way around it, searching for other explanations and trying to distract his feverish brain from doing some quick, rough math that only made the realization stronger.

Walter Willoughby was Elizabeth Willoughby's son.

Isaac's son
.

The trees seemed to swirl around him momentarily, the already dark evening threatening to crash down upon Isaac and force him into unconsciousness. He took several quick, shallow breaths and managed to stay awake, though hardly focused. He continued to make excuses, look for other explanations. It was possible
Elizabeth
never had the baby. Even if Walter was her son, it didn't mean he was her only child. There were a number of possibilities.

Yet Isaac could feel the truth lying in his stomach, as heavy and dark as his heart. As he absorbed it, letting all of the things Walter had said and did play back in his thoughts, he felt an incredible sadness settle over him. He couldn't explain it, wasn't even sure he'd ever felt anything like it, but he knew it was like no other sadness he'd felt before. And with that feeling Isaac realized how Walter was tied into the plan to rescue
Elizabeth
: his very existence relied on Isaac playing his part in a history that had already been written. It really didn't matter if he succeeded or not, but he
did
have to go back, just as destiny required. If he chose not to, then there might be a very good chance Walter, as well as the children and grandchildren he felt so obligated to, would never exist.

Isaac surprised himself by smiling at the irony of it all. He would risk everything to save the life of a woman he hardly knew, most likely fail, but in the process save the lives of his own son and progeny, a family he would also never really know if fate had its way.

There's
gotta
be a good song in there somewhere
, he thought, but the smile slipped from his mouth when he recalled playing music with Walter.

My son
.

It was very late when Isaac finally stood and swept the debris from his jeans. The moon was high in the sky and would allow an easier pass back down the hill. He stared at the grave marker set in the ground before him, nodding once as if accepting an unspoken challenge. He left the blanket there on the ground, telling himself that he could come back and get it later. Doing so gave him a chill, but he still hoped the display of confidence would turn the odds of defying fate in his favor.

He took his time getting back to the house. His wallet was already in his back pocket; he'd patted it with one hand several times since returning to the
Willoughby
house earlier that evening. He only needed to grab the knife from the kitchen before heading upstairs. There was no immediate hurry, even though he felt time running out with each steamy puff of breath as he journeyed back. Mostly, Isaac was in no rush because he wanted to enjoy the evening scenery, possibly for the last time, as it glowed under the silver moon hanging like destiny over his head.

Back at the house, he grabbed the knife from the kitchen and went upstairs. The door was waiting, and he stepped through.

Elizabeth
's bedroom was empty. It was daylight outside and the window was open, letting a breeze enter and move around like a soft, warm breath. Reaching back, Isaac patted the handle of the kitchen knife that was tucked into his belt. The door was open behind him, and he could hear the faint song of a young woman down the hall. He took a few steps toward the window to look out into the yard when an unfamiliar voice reached his ears.

"I know I put that brush back in your room, Miss Elizabeth," an older woman said. Her voice, along with the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs, became louder as she approached.

Isaac panicked. He couldn't risk being discovered by anyone but
Elizabeth
. There was the possibility of leaving and returning, but that was another risk he wasn't sure he should take. He turned back to the open window and leaned out. There was a short drop to the roof of the porch, followed by a more substantial drop to the ground, though it was still manageable. If he could get out of the house and back again through the front door, he might be able to encounter
Elizabeth
first.

It wasn't until he was sliding along the porch roof towards the ground that the scene washed over him in a wave of déjà vu. He dropped to the grass and looked around. Directly ahead of him, standing under a tree not far from the house, was a young boy. The tree was much smaller than he remembered from his first tour of the
Willoughby
property. The boy's eyes were large circles of fear, fixed on Isaac. There was no recognition in those eyes, nor did he expect to see any. Young Harold
Soseby
stood paralyzed but for his vocal chords and mouth as he yelled toward the barn for Mr. Willoughby.

"Harold!" Isaac hissed, glancing back toward the house.

The boy obviously couldn't hear what was being said to him over his own screams. Isaac realized it was pointless to try to engage him; it would only waste time. He turned away and ran for the front of the house, the muscles in his arms and legs working in overdrive. As he rounded the corner, he caught a glimpse of young Harold running off toward the barn, still yelling as loudly as his small lungs would allow.

The house looked much the same from the front, though the siding was off-white, tinted slightly red from a fine coat of road dust. He noticed the boards under his feet, how smooth and green the wood appeared. The front door was open but there was a screen door blocking his way. Isaac ran into it, for some reason thinking it would push in. After cursing under his breath, he stepped back and pulled it open. He could hear voices as he rushed into the foyer, feminine sounds of surprise and worry. Halfway down the stairs stood a woman in a drab dress and apron. She looked to be in her fifties, possibly older, a bit stocky. The frown lines on her face suggested it was best to stay on her good side, and by the way she was looking at him, Isaac felt he'd already missed that opportunity.

At the top of the stairs, her arm raised and paused in the middle of a brush stroke, stood
Elizabeth
. She looked down at Isaac and his heart sank. He saw only apprehension and confusion there, nothing to even hint that she recognized him. He knew he should have expected as much, but that didn't take the edge off of the sting when it happened.

"Who are you?" the older woman demanded. "You'll have to wait for Mr. Willoughby outside."

She took a few steps down the landing toward him. He held his hands up in front of him, shaking his head and not knowing what to say. She again demanded to know who he was and closed the distance between them even further. Isaac opened his mouth to speak, but could only stand there, looking back and forth between the two women.

The agitated voices of Harold and
Obediah
met Isaac's ears from behind. They would be there soon and, from the sound of their feet pounding the ground, he had only a few seconds to get around this woman and to Elizabeth.

"I'm here for Elizabeth," he said, nodding in the younger woman's direction.

Isaac saw how this caused Elizabeth to flinch and take a step back from the stairs. He tried to remind himself it would get worse when he tried to bring her back. The older woman's face screwed up into a knot of annoyance. She was only a few feet from Isaac now, and apparently ready to do her part in protecting her young charge.

"You need to step outside and wait for Mr. Willoughby." She glanced over Isaac's shoulder, hearing the men approach. A small, satisfied smile broke upon her lips. "That must be him now."

Time had run out. Isaac reached back to grab the knife tucked in his belt. Had he arrived with a full stomach, he might have lost its entire contents upon realizing the knife was no longer there. He patted along his beltline with both hands, his face growing paler than Elizabeth's.

The roof! The damn thing came out on the roof!

He attempted to step around the woman, but when she moved to block his way he shoved her to the side. She fell against the wall, exhaling in a quiet "whoosh" of surprise as she lost her footing and went down. He gripped the handrail, pulling himself up the stairs as quickly as possible. He couldn't help but notice the intricate detail of the workmanship again, and how the finish was thicker and glossier than he remembered. Before Isaac was halfway to the top the woman was screaming for
Obediah
and telling Elizabeth to run. The young girl didn't move until he was within reach of her, and she twisted out of his grip, letting loose with her own cries for help.

Isaac tripped on the last stair, his shoulder slamming against the corner of the railing as he caught himself with his hands. By the time he was back on his feet, Elizabeth was slamming the door to her room, and he could hear the
click
of the lock as it engaged from her side. He ran to the door and tried the knob anyway, but she had locked him out. She was still screaming for her father as Isaac pounded on the door, calling her name.

"Elizabeth, please! I'm here to help you, I swear."

It did no good and, even though his shoulder was throbbing, he stepped back and rammed into the door, hoping to force his way into her room. If he couldn't get control of her, his only chance for escape lay on the other side of that door.

After three tries and a searing jolt of pain that ran down his entire right side, Isaac leaned against the wood to get his breath. Elizabeth was pleading with him to leave her alone, and he fought back the urge to throw up again. Her sobs came in quick waves and hitches of breath. It was devastating to hear, to know that he was causing her so much fear.

"I'm here to help," he said, trying to sound calm. He placed one hand against the door, wishing it were her, hoping there might be some kind of magic in his touch to make her understand. "You have to believe me, Elizabeth."

Her cries had quieted. He could only hear her sniffle once or twice, giving him the slightest glimmer of hope she was at least listening. It would be cruel to the point of evil if he'd gone through everything he had since coming to Holden for it to end up like this.

"Don't you know me at all?"

She still did not respond and he felt like a pawn in a plan that ultimately meant nothing to him. He was a toy of fate and time, but maybe he had a chance to make things better, to at least save the life of the beautiful person on the other side of that door.

"Isaac?"

Her voice sounded so sweet at that moment. Even though there was mostly confusion and fear in her tone, he thought he could hear the slightest bit of recognition. It was just enough to spark hope in his heart.

"Step away from there, son."

Though there was no direct threat in his words,
Obediah
Willoughby's tone was thick with it. His deep voice boomed in the hall, yet Isaac sensed a minor amount of fear. However, it became obvious that fear was only a side effect of unfamiliarity. Isaac turned to face the father. Once
Obediah
had an idea of what he was dealing with — a younger man with not nearly as much muscle as a hardworking farm hand — he did not seem intimidated at all.

"Are you okay in there, Elizabeth?"
Obediah
called out.

"Yes, father," she answered, her voice still unsteady with tears.

As
Obediah
stood there looking at Isaac, all the younger man could do was stand there, drenched in panic. He needed to find a way out of this predicament with his soul still attached to his body, but the chances of that happening seemed to be getting slimmer with each passing second. The look on
Obediah's
face reinforced that.

Isaac had no weapon, and he seriously doubted he could successfully take on the large man standing in front of him. There was nothing in the hall that could be of use; it was empty. He supposed he could try to slip by, but as big as
Obediah
was, there wasn't room to do so. And the one thing Isaac had been counting on, the element of surprise, was not an option at that point. But surprise, Isaac suddenly realized, comes in many forms.

"I know what you did to Mary," Isaac said, looking
Obediah
directly in the eyes.

The man was visibly shocked by these words, his head jerking back an inch or two, his eyes blinking twice before doubling in diameter, then narrowing into slits.

"That's right," Isaac continued, daring to take a step forward. He hoped to intimidate the man. It worked.
Obediah
, already surprised by Isaac's words, stepped back. "I know about the room in the barn. Why did you do it? Did
God
tell you to,
Obediah
? Did He tell you to kill your own wife?"

By the time the question left his lips, Isaac was a few steps closer to the staircase.
Obediah
had backed up as much as Isaac had advanced. A few more feet and he might have a clear shot at the stairs. He had no idea what he would do if he did manage to get away. At least he might survive to help Elizabeth, even if she didn't want anything to do with him.

"Who are you?"
Obediah
whispered, his lower lip trembling. "How do you know these things?"

Isaac didn't answer, taking another step forward instead.

"Stay away from me," the man hissed. "I...I did what I had to do. My reward will be far greater than what I've had to sacrifice."

Obediah's
entire frame was shaking and Isaac advanced yet again. The man's eyes were swimming in tears, his voice breaking up on the last of his words. He was finally being called on the horrors he had performed in the name of the twisted version of God he constructed in his diseased mind. Isaac felt his confidence surge as he crept closer to the stairwell and
Obediah
.

"She was a sinner,"
Obediah
practically whined. "I had to do it."

Those words struck Isaac in a way he didn't expect. He could easily imagine
Obediah
saying the same things about Elizabeth, using the same demented reasoning to punish his daughter just as harshly. Isaac stepped even closer until he was within range then swung out with a fist, smashing
Obediah's
quivering lips against his teeth. He could feel the skin split under his knuckles. The man seemed dazed for a moment, responding with a bewildered, dripping red smile.

Isaac swung again, this time hitting him in the stomach.
Obediah
doubled over, loosing a low moan of pain and shame. He didn't upright himself, and Isaac could have slipped around him then, making his escape. Instead, he looked down at the man, now shaking violently and softly crying as fresh drops of blood bloomed on the floor at his feet.

"Don't try to blame it on God, you sick bastard. You lost touch with him a long time ago."

There was an immediate reaction in
Obediah
. The shaking stopped and he made no sound. When he stood up straight, the fear in his eyes had changed again, just as it had during their last encounter. Isaac read suspicion there, which quickly bloomed into a fiery anger that spilled out like light across his features.

"You wretched filth from Hell," the man whispered. "I should have known I'd be taunted in such ways."

He moved closer, cutting off Isaac's escape route. His hands worked into fists at his sides as he glared at him. The tendons in his neck twitched and flexed as his anger brewed. His eyes glossed over, and Isaac realized he was not getting past the man without a fight.

"I won't be tempted and ridiculed by the likes of you, demon. The Lord lights my way and leads me closer to Him. I only believe in
His
word and never doubt what he commands."

Before Isaac could respond,
Obediah
spat on the floor between them and charged, hitting him in the center of his chest and knocking him to the floor. The heavy man landed on top of him, forcing the breath from his lungs. Isaac bucked and kicked at his attacker, making it difficult for him to get any advantage other than being on top. A swift knee to
Obediah's
side sent the man sprawling to the side, and Isaac scrambled away, only to feel a hand close around his ankle and pull him back. He felt himself flipped over onto his back again, and
Obediah's
huge, steely hands went around his neck. Isaac's vision exploded in a colorful pattern of light.

"The Lord leads me!"
Obediah
screamed, his fingers squeezing tighter.