CHAPTER 66 - He is gone
OLIVIA YANKED THE COVERSaside and sat up in bed. The pale light of the sunrise filtered through the curtains, so it must be the next morning already. Thank goodness, for she was done trying to sleep. If what she did could be considered sleep at all. In fact, her night had consisted of fits and starts, and exhausted slumber between bouts of crying. Preceded by a day of wallowing and avoiding her mom’s calls.
With a groan, she dragged herself out of bed. Life must resume. Even if she didn’t feel fit for it, she couldn’t hide from reality forever. For one, today was to be the damned auction.
Oh, God! How could she go to Dale’s house knowing he would not be there? She might even find out when and how he had died. She wasn’t ready. A wave of panic washed through her. How could she go to the one place where she had found the love of her life, and bid on pieces that might have belonged to him? Pieces he might have touched...
The idea felt like twisting a blade inside a bleeding wound. But she must go. Apart from the fact that it was the entire purpose of her trip, she had a compulsion to go there. The place called to her like a beacon on a dark night. It lured her and would not allow her to stay away, even if it killed her. She’d feel closer to Dale wandering the same halls where he lived. Where they had been happy, even if for so short a time.
She should eat something, but for once in her life, she was not hungry. She needed distraction, so she turned on the TV, all the lights, and played a YouTube video on her phone. Anything that would distract her from her fears while she got ready.
The lyrics of the song “Ordinary World” floated into her consciousness from somewhere amid the noise. The words seemed to be written about her. Yes, she would learn to survive. Wouldn’t she? She had to. But not today.
Makeup could not conceal the ravages that crying had done to her eyes, but she applied it carefully, doing her best not to look like a raving lunatic. Her own clothes felt strange now, after all the time she had spent wearing Victorian gowns. She looked in the mirror and winced at her image. The black pantsuit and white button-down shirt looked awful on her. With a shrug, she turned and left for the auction.
It was a short distance to the Hall, and soon she was driving through what had been Dale’s property. The differences were evident at once. The park and gardens, which were immaculate in Dale’s time, were unkempt and derelict. She drove up the long gravel driveway and followed the signs showing where to park, then entered the house by a side door and was led to what used to be the estate office. How many times had she sat in this same room, keeping Dale company while he worked?
Dragging a ragged breath past her clogged throat, she handed her ID to the attendant, who checked it against a list and gave her a tag and a paddle with a number on it. Then she was allowed to enter the rest of the house. Well, not the whole house, only the parts that were open to the public.
The auction would not start for another thirty minutes, and the house called to her. Sneaking through a concealed servant’s entrance was easy, and then she was off wandering through the house.
Everything was familiar, and yet so different. The rooms were in the same configuration, but all the furnishings and decorations were gone. The place was almost unrecognizable. Which was both good and bad. It was as unkempt as the lawn and in need of repairs.
Driven by an unwise desire to feel closer to Dale, she climbed to the upper floors. She was hesitating in front of Dale’s room, her hand on the doorknob, when a gruff voice stopped her.
“This area of the house is off limits.”
She whirled, startled. An old man in uniform was walking towards her, a scowl on his face.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” She lied. She knew, but the compulsion to explore the house had been too great.
“Go on now. And make sure you stick to the open areas of the house.”
Chagrined, she turned and descended the stairs without another word. Maybe it was for the best. It had been unwise to venture into the house.
She entered the ballroom, which had been setup for this purpose, and took a seat. There were perhaps twenty people. Then the auction started. She forced herself to look at the items and not think about whether she recognized them, but only about how useful and fitting they would be for the design plan of her client’s home. It was hard. She now felt so disconnected from this project that, until a little more than a month ago, had consumed her.
She recognized only a little table and a pair of chairs. Most of the stuff was from the early nineteen hundreds. She bid on some pieces that fit the decor plan of her client’s house and, after the auction was over, arranged to have them shipped home. There, her job here was done. Now she could leave.
She had no intention of lingering. However, as she walked towards her car, she took a detour through the gardens. She didn’t know what possessed her to do so. Every sight and memory was painful, but it exerted an almost obsessive pull on her emotions. She couldn’t let go of Dale, and being here in his house... she felt closer to him.
She walked around the house towards the gardens that stretched out from the back terrace. Remembering how she had climbed out the window and ran. And how Dale had caught her. She had been terrified. And he had made her feel better.
The gardens were overgrown and sad. She was about to turn back when she spotted what looked like a memorial stone. She could not remember it being there before. Of course, it could have been placed there any time during the last one hundred and fifty years.
She approached it slowly, a sense of foreboding spreading through her. The name and date carved into the stone had her sinking to her knees, crying. Her vision clouded and all the pain she was holding back poured from her.
Dale.
