Page 45 of Van Cort

BEFORE

LARA – AGE EIGHTEEN

It came.

The one thing Lara had been dreading ever since West told them that he wasn’t going to Harvard had arrived, and that meant she’d have to make a choice. Because she did have a choice now.

With courage building in her chest, she stuffed the letter into the back pocket of her jeans and left the cottage en route to the Van Cort house.

A few hundred yards along the familiar path, the crack of a twig snapped in the air and birds took flight.

She froze and looked around at her surroundings.

“It’s just me,” her father said as he came out of the foliage from the opposite direction.

“I’ll be back for dinner,” she called.

She could feel the letter like a weight suddenly dragging her down.

She hadn’t told either of her parents and knew they’d only worry.

It wasn’t like she could afford the fees unless Rhett came through with his promise anyway.

It was going to be an argument when she finally broached the subject, but she figured she could deal with that one after talking with the boys.

They were more important to her right now. Her parents would understand.

“Going to see the boys?” her father asked.

“Yeah.” She drew her brows down. It was unlike him to question her.

“Well, just…” He shifted his weight between his boots. “Be careful. Mr Van Cort has a temper.”

“I know. I never see him.” She’d only seen him a few times in all the years she’d been visiting with the boys.

Lara strode out on her path but did turn to wave to her dad. The sudden need to acknowledge him and all he did for her family, compared to the evil man who employed him, weighed as heavy as the letter.

Since that day on the island, Lara and the boys had kept their distance.

They all needed it with the blow of the news West delivered.

Now, it was bittersweet that they wouldn’t get to celebrate her acceptance with the joy that they’d all be together, because they’d all sacrificed to ensure she got in.

It almost felt like they’d done it for nothing, as they’d be split up regardless of what was printed on the letter.

She cleared the wooded area, crossed the lawn, and headed to the house, eventually taking the path to the music room doors to find Rhett, but as she pushed down on the handle, the door wouldn’t open.

She looked across the gravel. The front doors took her into the main part of the house, somewhere she didn’t enjoy visiting.

She stuck to the music room, or on occasion, the boy’s bedrooms. The rest of the house wasn’t for exploring – they could do plenty of that out on the land that engulfed the mansion.

Lara walked around to the other side of the house and tried the door that would take her to the mud room, and then one of the secret entryways that she’d be able to navigate through to the music room. But they were all locked, too.

She waited, pacing back and forth on the lawn, but eventually gave up and headed to the main steps that led to the hallway.

Her footsteps were tentative, and she made sure to wipe her muddy treads on the mat before she stepped foot on the marble surface.

She’d only made it a few steps before two figures stopped her dead in her tracks.

Mr Van Cort was hunched over, his arm held as he was supported through the hallway by one of the maids.

He looked old. Frail. Red and purple bruising marred his face as he turned to look at her. His eyes narrowed as much as they could behind a blackened eye. What had happened to him?

But she knew. Deep down, she knew. Her heart sped up as if hit with adrenalin at the realisation.

Mr Van Cort righted himself, pulling himself taller as he turned to her. And for that second, she felt all the filthy rage that Rhett must have felt facing him.

“You!” he yelled. “Get out of here. I tolerate your father. Not you. Go!”

She almost stumbled back on herself in her rush to flee, and she raced down the steps and ran to the boathouse. They’d spent plenty of time out there together. So, she’d wait until it was safe and try again.

Gods, is that what Rhett had done? He’d snapped?

Beaten his own father?

She knew that Rhett’s temper and drinking were unpredictable.

Both elements had always made him that bit closer to dangerous.

They’d been building, though, stoked every time his father laid a hand on him, every time West wasn’t in the firing line.

But she’d never appreciated how violent he could be. Not really.

Her memory of the time she’d seen – watched – his father beat Rhett all those years ago bled into her mind, unable to stay buried.

Was this all just an eventuality because of the way he’d been treated?

She thought she had been helping him somehow, but with the news of West now out in the open, maybe that was what made Rhett finally fight back.

She slumped down on the wooden deck, leaned against the small boat they’d taken the other day, and pulled the letter from her pocket. It turned over in her hands several times, as she thought and thought and thought.

“Lara?” West’s voice sounded in the gloom.

“Hey,” she croaked, as she hid the letter back in her pocket.

“What are you doing here?”

“I, um, was looking for Rhett, but, well, I couldn’t get in.”

“He’s…” West turned and hung his head back on his shoulders. “He’s pretty fucked-up right now. Come on. You shouldn’t be hiding out here.”

“I’m not hiding. What were you doing here?”

“Was going to go back out to the island.”

“On your own?”

“Well, I need to start getting used to it. And there’s no fucking way I’m going near Rhett right now.”

She wanted to ask – to have West confirm what was now glaringly obvious, but somehow, if Lara said it out loud, she was frightened it might make it more real, like bringing it to life.

Right now, it was all hypothetical, sort of. His dad was injured, sure, but there could be another explanation.

West reached out his hand and helped pull her up.

Instead of letting her go, he pulled her in for a hug, and she went, happy to get swallowed up by his arms. She wouldn’t have access to this soon.

She’d have to say goodbye. It felt like grief clawed at her throat and threatened to set her crying.

There would be time for that later, preferably when she was on her own and not with either of them to see.

She wanted to be strong for them because they were losing each other, which must be so much worse.

They’d been together all their lives, and she worried how either of them would function without the other.

West crushed her to him, and she let him - didn’t want him to let her go. But he did.

He dropped his arms and stepped back. “Come on. Let’s go to yours.”

“Mine?” she questioned.

“I told you. Rhett’s drunk or hungover. We need to give him some time.”

She followed him out of the boathouse and into the light, and that’s when she saw the added bruising over his jaw.

West noticed her eyes studying him but just shrugged it off, like it didn’t matter. It did, though.

Lara led him through the woods towards her cottage. They didn’t visit often, but the boys knew where it was and could easily follow the paths through the woods.

“It would be really fucking great if you got that letter, and then Rhett could settle down.”

“Is he worried I won’t get in?” He always seemed so confident, so sure that it was a done deal. Maybe he was manifesting the outcome he wanted and had planned, though. Maybe he had doubts. He needn’t have. The piece of paper in her back pocket proved that he was right all along.

“Hell, no. You’ll be fine.” He nudged her shoulder and tried to smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, West.” Lara kept her eyes forward.

“Hey. Don’t be. It’s not like you’ve got an asshole of a father.”

“No. But still…” She couldn’t finish that sentence.

“You’ll be fine together, but he’ll need you now. More than he does at the moment. Of course, he won’t ask you for anything because he’s Rhett, but you’re the light for him, Lara. Always have been since the day we first found you here in the forest.”

“But what about you? Aren’t I the light for you, too?” she whispered, her eyes stinging with tears.

“It doesn’t matter about me.”

“Don’t say that.” She reached her hand out and squeezed his in hers.

“Look, we have the whole summer, right? It’s not like I’m leaving now.

It’s a fucking nightmare, and I really don’t want to think about how hard it’s going to be, but I’ll be damned if I let Father take everything away from us.

” She nodded, not trusting her voice to stay calm.

Every word from West’s mouth was tearing at her heart.

Eventually, they reached the cottage, and she led them around to the back of the house to sit on the huge tree stump that she often used as a make-shift seat.

She pulled the letter from her pocket and handed it to West as he sat down.

“What’s this?” he asked.

“Read it.”

She picked at one of her nails, her arms resting on her knees as she waited.

His excitement and enthusiasm, as he read, nearly killed her.

“This is great. You did it!” he said.

“I guess.”

“Lara. This is amazing. And it might feel like shit right now, but Rhett needs this. You’ll be the only one to pull him back from the edge.”

“That’s a big responsibility, West.”

“I know.” He took her hand in his and rubbed her thumb. “But I know how much he loves you. How much you love him.”

“I love you, too.”

“I know.” He kissed her temple. “I know.”