Clinton Priest

Chapter Twenty Two

Diana joins me a little while after Clinton leaves. She flutters around, touching my face with the back of her hand, trying to gauge my temperature. I try telling her I'm fine but she wouldn't hear any of it. She finally settles on the end of the bed and focuses her bright dark eyes on me. Not for the first time, I think to myself, she must have been beautiful once. Stunning. But age has taken a toll on her. Age and the hardships of life.

"What really happened?" She asks.

I ponder over my thoughts. I can't tell her the truth because she'll never believe me. And even if she does, she will think I'm crazy for staying under the same roof as Clinton Priest. So I lie.

"I fell sick," I say. "I collapsed on the way home and Clinton brought me home."

"He's Clinton to you now," she comments.

I don't respond. Instead, I choose to focus on the interior design of the bed room. I'm lying on a king sized canopy bed luxuriating in the feeling of silk sheets against my skin. There's a fire place as well. There is a candle lit chandelier in place of electricity. The floor is marble and the mural ceiling is of a young dark skinned woman sitting in a garden leaning against a man while reading a book.

"He's obsessed with art," I tell her.

"He's obsessed with erotica," she scoffs. "Did you see all those pictures and paintings of those women? Disgusting."

"You find women in bikini disgusting," I say to her. "It's no surprise that you fail to see the beauty and freedom in his choice of art."

"You used to find it disgusting as well. You've changed."

I haven't, I want to say. I'm just discovering myself.

"Have you had dinner yet?" I ask instead.

"Yes," she says. "I would have brought you some food but Mr. Priest made it clear that nothing but your outfit for tomorrow would be allowed into his home."

I nod.

"Your parents were worried," she says. "Especially your father. He nearly marched down here when he received the phone call from Mr. Priest. It was only master Edwin who managed to calm him down. They think he's going to harm you. That's why your grandfather insisted I come over and stay with you till tomorrow."

"You don't have to say those things to make me feel better," I tell her. "I know they were probably happy they wouldn't have to see my face in the house today."

"I wouldn't lie to you," she says. "I was shocked myself. If he'd acted this way when he found you with Adrian, maybe you would have settled down with Theodore instead of living an empty life."

"My life is not empty," I say. "I'm a nun in training. Besides, I'm only twenty five. I have my life ahead of me. Even if I should leave the convent, I could start a small business or even go back to school. I would really love to go back to school."

"That is a nice dream," she says, "though I doubt you'd ever accomplish it."

"What!"

Before she answers, there's a knock on the door and it opens before I answer. The old man who let me into the house the last time I was here walks in with a tray of food.

"Sorry I am a little late with your food," he says. "I couldn't figure out how to use the oven."

Diana laughs gently. "New technology. It happens to the best of us."

He places the tray on my lap and gestures for Diana to join him outside. "I'll show you to your room," he tells her as he leads the way. "Then we can have a drink before you sleep."

The door closes with a soft click and I push the tray from my lap and onto the floor. I'm not hungry but I am curious as to the happenings of the day. I want to know who the man who attack me today. I want to know what he meant when he said Clinton belonged to him.