Before Him Comes Me (5 page)

“Well, Child, it’s time for you to get to know music. I will
put on some classical and leave you to your breakfast. Remember, Zara, you can
get me at 11. Any phone will connect us.”

Without further ado, Trudy goes to a panel on the wall at
the opening of the hallway, punches a few buttons and sounds of a piano concerto
flood the kitchen. Suddenly caught up in the music, Zara fails to see Trudy
leave.

Starting off softly, the concerto rises to a level that
would send her father over the edge with anger. Without using any of the
techniques from her training to clear her mind, all thoughts that are pushing
for attention slip away as the music soars, each note so strong and confident
in its placement with the others.

Zara sits staring out at the water, allowing the piano to transport
her to another place. Before she knows it, tears are coursing down her cheeks,
distorting the view of the moving water. The tears do not fall because of
upsetting thoughts. As the song reaches its crescendo she realizes it is the
music that brought them. Using the napkin to wipe them away, Zara finds her
mind is clear.

As the piece ends and the next begins, Zara remains, still
allowing the music to penetrate through her. Closing her eyes, she locks the
moment into her memory knowing the peacefulness of this moment will be useful
later as a technique to block out pain or discomfort.

As another piece ends, the task of searing the combination
of the music and the movement of the water deep inside her draws her back to
her surroundings. She realizes her coffee is cold and her breakfast barely
touched.

She does not waste any more time. She finishes her breakfast
and coffee and rinses the dishes, leaving them in the sink as ordered. On the
counter, a travel mug sits under the open Keurig. Its blue light flashes to indicate
the coffee is loaded and ready to be started.

Upon hitting the button to brew, the aroma of freshly brewed
coffee puts a smile on Zara’s face. She is ready to go explore the beach with a
travel mug filled with doctored coffee in a matter of minutes.

Slipping into flip-flops and heading out the door, her only
regret is leaving the piano music that has already found a place in her heart. Closing
the door behind her, the sound of music is replaced by the sounds of the beach.

Treading down a few stairs, Zara leaves the flip-flops on
the bottom step and enjoys her first walk on warm sand. The sand slides
underfoot with each step, but her single goal is to get to the water that
spans as far as she can see.

The sand at the water’s edge is packed tighter and takes
less effort to move. The water glides over the packed sand and a white froth is
left behind as the waves recede back into the lake. Zara walks into the surf
but stops abruptly as cool water submerges her feet, dancing back out of the
reach of the oncoming waves.

Zara stands still to take in the magnitude of the view. Seagulls
fly overhead but do not stop to explore. With one deep breath, Zara walks into
the water up to her calves. A sandy bottom is visible through the water and a
small amount of seaweed floats in the water but not close to where Zara is
standing. She feels the sand moving out from under her feet from the constant
draw of the undertow. Two yards from the shore it takes effort to remain
standing and Zara slowly makes her way back to the beach, each step a mini
battle to beat the sand working against her.

Once she reaches the sand at the shoreline, Zara takes a
deep breath releasing the tension in her shoulders, realizing she had more concern
about making it back to the beach than even she was aware of.

Zara sits on the dry sand just past the shoreline traveled by
each wave. Warm to the touch, the sand is soft and conforms to her body. Knees
drawn up to her chest, Zara closes her eyes to enjoy the sound of the water
crashing against anything in its way.

The rhythmic pattern of the water over the sand blends with
the warmth of the sun and lures her into a deep sense of relaxation.

Looking over the water, Zara spots a boat coming from the
right side of the horizon. She watches it move across the water. It is a large
boat with sails and she can see several people onboard. The muffled sounds of
music dance over the water to where Zara sits.

With time and space to muse, questions return front and
center in her mind.

Why did Garrett offer me this out? How did he get all of my
belongings here? Why would he risk his position in the Community to do this? What
is going to happen in the future?

Garrett had given her an out and as much as she appreciated
the gift, self-doubt bubbled up from her choice. Her entire existence had revolved
around being collared and making the best submissive wife to whichever Dom her
father picked out. She could not help thinking, once again, how she had failed
in epic proportions.

What is my father thinking of me?

Zara recalls that there had been something in her mother’s
eyes when Zara stood up holding Garrett’s hand, but she had not been able to
convey her thoughts before being ordered to assume the position. It had left
Zara with a feeling of emptiness.

And what about Fredrik?

“Fredrik! Oh No!”

She gasps, sobbing and choking for air. For the first time since
walking down the ceremonial path, Zara thinks of her younger brother. She had not
even looked for him when she left with Garrett. The single most important
person in her life and she did not say goodbye. Racking cries shake her body.

Oblivious in her grief, Zara does not hear Garrett approach.
She only becomes aware of him when he gently lifts her into his arms and sits,
holding her as she sobs. Zara presses into his body sobbing violently while Garrett
rubs her back. Zara’s tears stop falling as her breathing turns soft and steady
and she feels exhaustion overtaking her.

Water.

The sound of waves crashing on the beach draws Zara from
sleep. It is loud, almost as if she is lying on the beach right next to the
waves. Opening her eyes, she finds she is in a darkened room. Running her
fingers over the sheets and under the pillow it is clear this is not the bed
she awoke in this morning. The feeling of missing her brother engulfs her again
and the tears fall freely. Hearing the swish of footsteps approach the bed,
Zara fights to stop the tears, only making the crying harder. Garrett stands at
the side of the bed and gathers her into his arms.

“Come here, Little One.”

Zara wraps her hands around his neck as he brings her to his
body and walks toward the chorus of the beach sounds. Passing through a wide
opening, he sits in a large chair, doing nothing more than holding her close as
she cries.

Soothed by the harmony of the water meeting the beach and
returning into itself, Zara nuzzles into Garrett’s chest. The material of his
shirt feels different than it did on the beach, softer and tighter to his body.
Garrett shifts slightly and Zara pulls away to detach from him.

“Stay put, Zara.” That is enough for her. She returns to
resting her head on his chest and closes her eyes.

He shifts again, and lifts something up. She hears clinking
in a glass and she senses him taking a large sip before returning the glass to
its original resting place. Zara opens her eyes to find Garrett bringing a
water bottle to her lips.

“Take a drink, Zara. You have been asleep for hours and need
to hydrate.” There is no question in Garrett’s tone that it is time to take a
drink. His voice is quiet and even, but his message is loud and clear.

“Thank you…” Zara takes the bottle and lifts away from his
chest to drink. Garrett keeps his arms securely around her, suggesting he has
no plans for Zara to sit anywhere else.

The water is cool and refreshing, and Zara quenches her
thirst, drinking the full bottle. This morning’s coffee is the last thing Zara
drank. Garrett takes it from Zara’s hands before she could stretch to place it
on the small table next to his glass.

With his hands free, Garrett pulls Zara back to his chest. Without
thought or hesitation, Zara returns to her place in his arms. His hand begins
to slide up and down her back and Zara sighs, her body relaxing further into his.

“Zara, I would very much like to discuss what upset you this
morning.”

Zara tenses against Garrett’s chest. “I am sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be sorry. I want you to feel every
emotion that you have at the time each one occurs. It’s my wish that you
discuss them with me. Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” she replies in a voice so soft it wouldn’t have been
heard by a person sitting in the next chair.

“May I sit in the other chair?” Zara asks without looking into
Garrett’s face.

His hand freezes in the middle of Zara’s back then he
releases his hold. She feels him looking at her as she places her bare feet on
the floor, regretting the loss of the warmth of his body.

Zara tucks her feet underneath her as she sits in the chair
next to Garrett. She looks out into the darkness toward the sound of the water
and closing her eyes, hears Garrett pick up his glass.

Zara opens her eyes and looks at Garrett. Solemnly she
begins, “I looked at my mother before I left the circle. We made eye contact
and I saw something in her eyes before she presented herself. I don’t know what
she was trying to communicate.”

Tears track down her cheeks as she continues, “I didn’t look
for Fredrik. I walked out of the circle without being collared and I have not thought
of him. I did not say goodbye to my brother.”

Zara stares out at the dark water, her tears continuing to
fall.

“Why am I here?” She blurts. Zara tenses, moving to the edge
of the chair and placing both of her feet on the floor, arms crossed behind her
back. Her eyes focus down as she waits for the reprimand warranted for her
slip.

“Zara Faith.” Garrett sets the glass on the table and kneels
in front of Zara without touching her. He begins to speak in a comforting, yet
firm tone.

“While in my presence, you may ask any question freely
without fear of reprimand. Am I clear?”

Zara gives the slightest nod.

Returning to his chair, Garrett picks up his drink and
proceeds to answer Zara’s question as if no interruption had taken place.

“Little One, you fell asleep before we could talk last
night. You are here with me because your dorm room won’t be ready for move-in
until Thursday. Since I wasn’t certain if you would choose to accept my offer
or wish to continue with the collaring ceremony…”

Garrett pauses as Zara’s right hand flies to her neck upon
hearing the word collaring. Taking a moment, looking out into the darkness
before he continues, “I didn’t want to move ahead with the preparations until a
decision was made.”

“I will be living in a dorm? Do you live in the dorm as well?”

“No, Zara. You will live in the dorm room alone. The dorm is
called Yakeley Hall and it’s the oldest all-girl’s dorm on campus.”

Zara looks at Garrett. “All-girls dorm.”

“Yes, Little One, an all-girls dorm. We may not be a
collared couple but I don’t wish for you to spend your evenings in a building
filled with eager college guys. I was an eager college guy and that is not an
option for you.”

Garrett drinks the last of his beverage and stands extending
his hand to Zara. “Shall we continue this in the kitchen and get some food?”

Zara takes his hand and stands.

He releases her hand when she gets to her feet and walks away
two steps and turns on soft floor lights. He motions Zara to move past him into
his bedroom.

Garrett waits patiently while Zara takes in her surroundings.
She can feel him observing her and is careful to set her expression as she
surveys his private space. Zara takes her time looking at his room, attempting
to remember as many details as possible.

The space is double the size of the room she woke up in this
morning, with a wall facing the water set in glass. Double doors lead to a
balcony overlooking the beach.

The furniture in the room is modern, dwarfed by a platform bed
facing the water. The bed is neatly made with the exception of the space Zara had
slept in earlier.

On either side of the bed are platforms that have matching
reading lamps. The side that is still tucked in with military precision has a
couple of books stacked on the platform. Across from the foot of the bed and
against the glass wall is a sitting bench. On the floor by the bench, sits a
basket of wood and shells. The basket is all that could be considered clutter
in the room. A closer look at the basket shows the items arranged in a
particular order. There is zero clutter in Garrett’s room.

Zara steps aside to let Garrett lead the way. The walls of
the hallway are covered with frames in an organized manner, all matching and
grouped in small clusters. It is not light enough to see the pictures, so Zara
hurries ahead to catch up to Garrett who is already halfway down the first
staircase.

“This is my parents’ floor,” he points down a hallway similar
to the one above. There are more clusters of frames, this time in various shapes
and sizes and a runner down the hallway accentuating its length.

Garrett continues to the ground floor and waits for Zara to join
him. He waits in an identical hallway, but instead of one door, like the floors
above, there are several. There are no frames on the wall in this hall.

Garrett opens the first door and Zara recognizes this is the
doorway Trudy had slipped through after turning on the music. Reoriented, Zara
knows the kitchen is all the way on the other end of the house and the room
where Zara slept is down the hall on the other side of the sunken living room.

Walking toward the kitchen, Garrett pauses at the same
control panel that Trudy had used to start the music. The entire floor glows as
soft floor lighting fills the living room.

“Go change and I will get us something to eat.” The schooled
expression on Zara’s face slips.

“Yes, Little One, I am going to prepare a meal. Go… I am
hungry and I am guessing you are as well.”

As Zara makes her way down the hall, another soft piano concerto
fills the air. Pausing to enjoy it, a clank of pans from the kitchen sends her
moving to do what Garrett instructed.

Opening the door to the room, Zara knew that someone had
been in and straightened up the space. The bed that she had made before going
to find the coffee now had the same military corners as Garrett’s bed.

Taking off the hair tie as she walked into the bathroom,
Zara noticed the towel she had used after her shower was no longer hanging on
the towel bar. A replacement towel makes the stack exactly the same as this
morning.

Turning on the shower, Zara quickly removes her clothes and
steps under the warm spray, enjoying the water against her skin. There was
something special about this rain stream spigot.

Washed, dried and in a tee shirt and yoga pants in record
time, Zara makes her way back to the kitchen where three things catch her
attention. First, Garrett has changed. He is now in a MSU tee shirt, sleep
pants and is barefoot. Second, a wrapped present sits on the counter next to the
coffee machine, and third, a black box in the center of the table. Of the
three, Garrett in comfy clothes and bare feet top the list.

“May I help with the cooking?”

“No… no… no. Just talk to me and keep me company. It is
almost ready.” Garrett points to the table and returns to chopping vegetables.

“May I get a beverage?” Zara whispers.

Garrett pauses. Zara tenses and quickly sits in the chair
closest to where she had been standing. Putting down the knife and cucumber, Garrett
rinses his hands and picks up a towel.

Without a word, he dries his hands and tosses the towel on
the counter next to the cutting board. He steps to the table to stand directly
in front of Zara. Garrett looks deeply into her eyes, almost as if he is
reading her thoughts. Without touching her, he kneels in front of her never
taking his eyes from hers.

“Breathe, Zara.” He waits for her to exhale and once
satisfied begins to speak, never breaking eye contact.