"The Enchanted Cottage" -- Part 2
At Mrs. Minnett's estate, on Lake Erie.
Part 1 is here:
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/347225.html
Part 2
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006
"I brou... brou... brou..."
"Slowly, Justin," said Mrs. Minnett. "You know what happens when you get too excited."
Justin Taylor clenched his right fist tightly in order to control it. Sometimes it seemed that his right hand and his tongue were connected somehow. That if he could steady his hand, then he could steady his voice as well.
He took a deep breath. "I brought... the flowers. From the gr... greenhouse."
Mrs. Minnett smiled. "They're beautiful, my dear. These roses are as lovely as I've ever seen them. Mr. Quigley says you've been a great help to him this summer."
"Th... thanks, Mrs. Minnett."
"You know he doesn't get around as easily as he used to. A young pair of hands like yours is truly appreciated."
"I'm d... doing what I can," said Justin, trying not to blush. "Sometimes it's hard. M... my hand..." He shrugged. "It gets tired. I get tired and then it's difficult to do m... much of anything."
"I think you are doing splendidly, my dear," Mrs. Minnett said encouragingly. "My Charlie loved the garden. When he was a boy he was always following Mr. Quigley all over the grounds, asking questions. It was his idea to expand the vineyards. That's why I call the wine 'Charlot' -- after my son."
"Do you want me t... to take the flowers down to the cottage?" Justin asked. "I've already st... stocked the fridge."
"Yes, please take them down," said Mrs. Minnett. "You'll find some vases in the kitchen. I'm sure they will brighten up the place for our guest. Everyone loves fresh roses."
"I know I do!" said Justin. He touched one of the petals with his finger. It was like satin. And it was bright red, like blood. He breathed in the scent of the bouquet, heady and deep. "Is Mr. Kinney going to stay long?"
"I don't know, my dear," Mrs. Minnett replied. "But he's welcome to stay as long as he wishes -- just as you are."
"Thanks again for letting me st...stay here," Justin said. "It's peaceful here. I can think without... without having my head all... all..." Justin squinted, trying to think of the word. He sometimes had to stop and search for the right word or phrase. He knew what he wanted to say, but often the words were just out of reach, like a ripe piece of fruit dangling over his head. "All cluttered. It's too noisy at home. Too much going on. I can't... can't focus." He put his hand up against his forehead, feeling the throbbing beginning again. "I better take my medication before I bring the flowers down to the cottage."
"Yes, Justin," said Mrs. Minnett gently. "Take your medicine. There's no hurry. I don't expect Mr. Kinney until this evening."
Justin nodded and went to his room, leaving the bundle of roses on the table. Mrs. Minnett picked them up. They were beautiful. Charles had loved roses.
But Mr. Kinney...
Lindsay Peterson had warned her that Brian Kinney would be a difficult guest, quite unlike Justin, who was a darling boy. But even the normally sunny Justin had bad days -- very bad days. The seizures didn't come as often or hit him as strongly as they had at first, before the doctors adjusted his medication, but they still came nonetheless. That was one of the reasons he had come to Las Encantadas -- his seizures and nightmares and rages had made his poor mother despair of him. And with the woman in the middle of a nasty divorce, with a small daughter to think of, Mrs. Minnett's offer to let Justin stay at her estate was a godsend.
Mrs. Minnett understood Jennifer Taylor's heartache -- to see her brilliant and talented son reduced to a shell of himself, his head bashed in and his brain damaged almost beyond repair. But at least Justin was alive. Charles hadn't been as lucky. When he'd been attacked, his bashers had finished the job, leaving his broken and bleeding body on the sidewalk not far from the bar he'd left on his way back to his dorm. By the time he was found, he was dead.
But when Justin was attacked his best friend, a brave young girl named Daphne, had been right on his heels. She called the police and identified his attackers -- some boys who were his own classmates, one a star football player. And the girl had testified against them all, even after being threatened, putting them away for their crime. Charles' attackers had never been found -- they were still out there in the world -- somewhere. That thought haunted her.
That's why Mrs. Abigail Minnett had dedicated herself to helping other victims of hate, like Justin Taylor. She had a huge estate and all the money in the world, but what good did it do her when her son was dead? If she could help a boy like Justin, it was as if a small part of Charlie might live again.
And now this Brian Kinney.
But he would be a much harder case. She'd been warned.
He wasn't a young boy, but a grown man. Terribly injured. And terribly hardened.
Lindsay Peterson was afraid for him. All of his friends were. He'd already tried to kill himself at least twice. He obviously believed he was at the end of his life, the end of his ability to cope. He'd never be what he was before, that was certain. But at least he was alive.
Alive. For now.
So perhaps the cottage, which Charlie as a child had always said was enchanted, could work its magic on this broken man.
Because it seemed it was Brian Kinney's last chance.
***
Part 1 is here:
http://gaedhal.livejournal.com/347225.html
Part 2
Las Encantadas Estate, Erie, Pa., September 2006
"I brou... brou... brou..."
"Slowly, Justin," said Mrs. Minnett. "You know what happens when you get too excited."
Justin Taylor clenched his right fist tightly in order to control it. Sometimes it seemed that his right hand and his tongue were connected somehow. That if he could steady his hand, then he could steady his voice as well.
He took a deep breath. "I brought... the flowers. From the gr... greenhouse."
Mrs. Minnett smiled. "They're beautiful, my dear. These roses are as lovely as I've ever seen them. Mr. Quigley says you've been a great help to him this summer."
"Th... thanks, Mrs. Minnett."
"You know he doesn't get around as easily as he used to. A young pair of hands like yours is truly appreciated."
"I'm d... doing what I can," said Justin, trying not to blush. "Sometimes it's hard. M... my hand..." He shrugged. "It gets tired. I get tired and then it's difficult to do m... much of anything."
"I think you are doing splendidly, my dear," Mrs. Minnett said encouragingly. "My Charlie loved the garden. When he was a boy he was always following Mr. Quigley all over the grounds, asking questions. It was his idea to expand the vineyards. That's why I call the wine 'Charlot' -- after my son."
"Do you want me t... to take the flowers down to the cottage?" Justin asked. "I've already st... stocked the fridge."
"Yes, please take them down," said Mrs. Minnett. "You'll find some vases in the kitchen. I'm sure they will brighten up the place for our guest. Everyone loves fresh roses."
"I know I do!" said Justin. He touched one of the petals with his finger. It was like satin. And it was bright red, like blood. He breathed in the scent of the bouquet, heady and deep. "Is Mr. Kinney going to stay long?"
"I don't know, my dear," Mrs. Minnett replied. "But he's welcome to stay as long as he wishes -- just as you are."
"Thanks again for letting me st...stay here," Justin said. "It's peaceful here. I can think without... without having my head all... all..." Justin squinted, trying to think of the word. He sometimes had to stop and search for the right word or phrase. He knew what he wanted to say, but often the words were just out of reach, like a ripe piece of fruit dangling over his head. "All cluttered. It's too noisy at home. Too much going on. I can't... can't focus." He put his hand up against his forehead, feeling the throbbing beginning again. "I better take my medication before I bring the flowers down to the cottage."
"Yes, Justin," said Mrs. Minnett gently. "Take your medicine. There's no hurry. I don't expect Mr. Kinney until this evening."
Justin nodded and went to his room, leaving the bundle of roses on the table. Mrs. Minnett picked them up. They were beautiful. Charles had loved roses.
But Mr. Kinney...
Lindsay Peterson had warned her that Brian Kinney would be a difficult guest, quite unlike Justin, who was a darling boy. But even the normally sunny Justin had bad days -- very bad days. The seizures didn't come as often or hit him as strongly as they had at first, before the doctors adjusted his medication, but they still came nonetheless. That was one of the reasons he had come to Las Encantadas -- his seizures and nightmares and rages had made his poor mother despair of him. And with the woman in the middle of a nasty divorce, with a small daughter to think of, Mrs. Minnett's offer to let Justin stay at her estate was a godsend.
Mrs. Minnett understood Jennifer Taylor's heartache -- to see her brilliant and talented son reduced to a shell of himself, his head bashed in and his brain damaged almost beyond repair. But at least Justin was alive. Charles hadn't been as lucky. When he'd been attacked, his bashers had finished the job, leaving his broken and bleeding body on the sidewalk not far from the bar he'd left on his way back to his dorm. By the time he was found, he was dead.
But when Justin was attacked his best friend, a brave young girl named Daphne, had been right on his heels. She called the police and identified his attackers -- some boys who were his own classmates, one a star football player. And the girl had testified against them all, even after being threatened, putting them away for their crime. Charles' attackers had never been found -- they were still out there in the world -- somewhere. That thought haunted her.
That's why Mrs. Abigail Minnett had dedicated herself to helping other victims of hate, like Justin Taylor. She had a huge estate and all the money in the world, but what good did it do her when her son was dead? If she could help a boy like Justin, it was as if a small part of Charlie might live again.
And now this Brian Kinney.
But he would be a much harder case. She'd been warned.
He wasn't a young boy, but a grown man. Terribly injured. And terribly hardened.
Lindsay Peterson was afraid for him. All of his friends were. He'd already tried to kill himself at least twice. He obviously believed he was at the end of his life, the end of his ability to cope. He'd never be what he was before, that was certain. But at least he was alive.
Alive. For now.
So perhaps the cottage, which Charlie as a child had always said was enchanted, could work its magic on this broken man.
Because it seemed it was Brian Kinney's last chance.
***