Blue Eyed Dreamboat | R. Grayson

[30]

Irene had been thinking about that strange man who had approached her in the park and asked her about her father. She hadn't told Norah about it but she couldn't help but wonder who that person was and what he wanted from them.

He had said that he was an old friend of Harris Cooper but she felt that was a lie or else she would have seen him at least once in her life. But then she also knew how protective her mother was for Irene and Ashton so it could be possible that she intentionally cut off ties from everyone else who knew them after Harris' death.

For some unknown reason, she felt that the answer to all her confusion was hidden in the attic. The last time she had gone there, she had had a panic attack, and that made her anxious about going there again.

But her curiosity got the better of her so the next time Richard came to the bookstore, she asked him to go upstairs with her.

"Do you want to show me something?" He asked, following her up the stairs that led to the attic.

She nodded in reply, her fingers gently interlacing through his as they went up.

They stopped in front of the attic door and she took out the keys that she had taken from her mother's drawer. An uneasy feeling settled in her heart as she unlocked the door but Richard's presence beside her was reassuring enough for her not to back off at the last minute.

"Are you sure you should go in there?" Richard signed and she nodded solemnly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

"I have to find answers," she replied slowly, "and I will be alright, you're with me right now unlike earlier."

A soft smile played upon his lips to hear that. She trusted him and her faith in thinking that she would be okay that once just because he was with her made his heart flutter.

If he was becoming a firm anchor for her, then she too was becoming a steady reassurance that he meant a lot to the people around him.

She opened the door and taking a deep breath to steady herself, she stepped in. It was Richard's first time coming up to that place so his observant blue eyes swept over each and every item in curiosity.

"My father... Used this place for writing," she told him, her voice turning low as if cautious of not disturbing the silence of the place. It was almost as if she felt her father's ghost was still lingering somewhere and she did not want to speak loudly out of respect. "I often came with him."

"Is this where you saw him work on his typewriter?" Richard stopped by the desk and the old typewriter.

"Yes. I don't remember much but I recall the typewriter and its vibrations clear as day."

"Can I try it?"

She nodded, placing her hands on the desk to feel the vibration of the typewriter as Richard pressed the keys carefully.

"It's very old," he remarked, "Bruce has kept his Dad's typewriter and I think it's the same model."

"Maybe..."

But she wasn't interested in the typewriter anymore as she sat cross-legged on the floor by an old worn-out cabinet. She was searching for the key to the cabinet in that bunch she had taken from her mother's room but none of the keys seemed to fit.

He saw her try out all the keys and when neither opened the lock, he offered to try something else, a trick taught to him by his friend Roy. Irene made space for him to sit beside her but got startled as he pulled out a pin from her hair.

"What are you doing?" She asked, her cheeks shading red as he tucked the loose strand of hair behind her right ear gently.

"Wait and watch," he remarked, twisting the pin to straighten it.

It took him a few minutes but he managed to twist the pin to fit the internal lock. When he tried it after the third time of working on the pin, the lock finally opened.

Irene looked in amazement as the door opened easily after that. A smile flickered on his features to see her expression.

"Thank you," she breathed, brushing away the dust from the contents inside that cabinet.

The dust made them cough but as it cleared, she was able to take out a pile of books and papers bound together with a red ribbon. The handwriting on the topmost page was unfamiliar to her but she assumed it would be her father's handwriting.

"It looks like a manuscript," Richard remarked as he observed the pages she was looking through.

"The Threads Of Destiny," she mumbled, reading the title of the book that was never finished by her father, "this... This might be the last book he was writing..."

She put the loose pages in the middle so that both of them could read together. Richard noticed that the pages used in the manuscript were taken from a journal and the year and months were inscribed in the corner. The text they were looking at was from twenty years ago at least. Or perhaps the journal was old and Harris had utilized it to write his book sometime later.

He turned to look at Irene and saw her wide green eyes welling up with tears. She didn't remember her father very clearly but that manuscript and those words seemed to have provided her a window to the past.

No wonder it was quite overwhelming for her and seeing her in tears, he gently placed an arm around her, bringing her close to him. She appreciated the warm gesture very much as her head rested against his shoulder and she closed her eyes briefly.

He held her close until she got better and straightened slightly. Her green eyes melted into his blue irises and he could see gratitude written clearly across those expressive eyes.

"I am taking this to my room," she mumbled, gathering the loose pages and binding them up again. "I want to read it at ease later."

"Sure, you do what you think is best."

With her attention leaving the manuscript, her eyes fell on the rest of the contents in the cabinet. But before she could take them out and check, the sound of the main door opening startled her.

"Miss Norah is back," Richard told her, looking through the tiny attic window.

She knew she had to go down before her mother noticed that she had visited the attic again in her absence.

"Oh, we have to hurry then."

Richard helped her pile up the rest of the stuff in the cabinet and close the door. Giving the place a last look to make sure that nothing was out of place, she locked the attic and went downstairs taking him with her.

She sent Richard ahead of her as she had to place the manuscript safely in her room. So while he stalled for some time with Norah, she lifted the mattress of her bed and slipped the bundle of papers underneath.

By the time she came downstairs, Richard was helping Norah with the cartons she had brought for the next book delivery. Seeing her return, he smiled at her, the very expression making her feel butterflies in his stomach.

He looked so much more striking with his smile, she thought. He had just started to smile more often and she hoped things stayed the same for him to keep smiling and cheerful. 

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