Throne Away

  Throne Away

  Leddy Harper

  Copyright © 2020 by Leddy Harper

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  “You found parts of me I didn’t know existed, and in you, I found a love I no longer believed was real.”

  ~Unknown

  Contents

  1. Moira

  2. Ryan

  3. Moira

  4. Ryan

  5. Moira

  6. Ryan

  7. Moira

  8. Ryan

  9. Moira

  10. Ryan

  11. Moira

  12. Ryan

  13. Moira

  14. Ryan

  15. Moira

  16. Ryan

  17. Moira

  18. Ryan

  Epilogue

  Leddy’s Notes

  Hey You!!

  About the Author

  Also by Leddy Harper

  Chapter 1

  Moira

  Memories from a lifetime ago filtered through my head as I filled my lungs with fresh sea air. With my eyes closed and Daniel’s flat cap clutched to my chest, it was almost as if he were right in front of me talking nonstop about his visit to the United States, his animated excitement louder than his voice.

  I remembered being so angry with my parents at the time for allowing Daniel to attend that trip while I had to stay behind. They had told me it was for his birthday, and that in three years, when I turned twelve, I would be able to go as well. Instead, three years later…I was sent to my first boarding school.

  Little did I know that it would take me thirteen years and the death of my favorite person to bring me to the end of the same pier that my brother had talked so much about. While it looked just like the picture that he had kept in his room, it looked nothing like the way I had always imagined in my head. In his photo, a bright sun sat proudly in the sky—the same sky that was now cast in pinks and oranges and purples.

  In more ways than one, the sun had become lost below the horizon.

  I wiped a stray tear from my chin and shook my head, smiling at the memory of my brother’s excitement over this pier. “You had the entire world at your fingertips, and this was your favorite place?” The sorrow that had felt like an iron fist around my throat eased with the soft laughter that filled my words—words that I hoped would get swept up by the breeze and taken to my brother.

  Just then, a gust of wind came up from behind me, carrying my words—and Daniel’s hat—over the railing and into the whitecaps below. I held my breath and leaned over the edge in the hopes that I would see a glimpse of black leather amongst the angry sea. With each passing wave, I lost more and more hope of finding it. There was no chance of it resurfacing, which meant I had lost that tangible piece of Daniel forever.

  Without moving, I clung to the wood railing and allowed the pain to seep from my eyes. Salty tears fell from my chin to mix with the saltwater below. For a moment, I felt like I was drowning in my sorrow, until a deep voice from behind halted my descent into utter grief. “Don’t do it.” It sounded like a man shouting, although I couldn’t tell how far away he was. With the heavy gusts of wind, he could have very well been a few feet behind me. At first, I ignored it, brushed it off as a stranger speaking to someone else, but then he repeated himself—this time, much closer than before. “It’s not worth it. Don’t do it.”

  I straightened my spine and wiped my eyes before peeking over my shoulder. There were two men fishing on the other side of the lighthouse, but the voice I heard hadn’t come from either of them. Nor had it come from the woman walking away, her long hair flying in the wind behind her. It belonged to the man who stood less than ten feet from me, staring right at me. His wide brow was etched with worry, his eyes hooded and wary.

  He took one step in my direction and held out his hand, as if he wanted me to take it. “Why don’t you move away from the ledge? It’s safer back here.”

  I was confused at first, but after a couple of seconds, his intention became clear. I glanced at the weathered piece of wood I still clung to and then at the sea just beyond it before giving him my attention once more. However, instead of taking his offered hand, I laughed. It was the first time in a week that I didn’t feel consumed by pain, so I laughed again, and again. Louder and louder until I was almost doubled over in uncontrollable laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked as he came a little closer, stopping only several feet away.

  “You think I was going to jump?”

  As if offended, he regarded me with knitted brows and a crooked top lip—it appeared more comical than serious. “What? Huh? Not at all. Why on Earth would I think a woman climbing over the railing was about to jump?”

  I glanced down and realized I had one foot on the bottom rail. While trying to find my brother’s cap, I must have stepped up to get a better view of the water beneath the pier, yet somehow, I had no recollection of doing it.

  With a smile still lingering on my lips, I met his stare and admitted, “I understand what it looks like, but I promise, I wasn’t trying to harm myself. My cap fell into the water, and I was looking over to see if I could find it.”

  “Your cap?” Closing the distance between us, he came to stand next to me and then leaned over the side of the pier, as if to see what I was talking about. “What kind of cap?”

  “It is a black leather flat cap.”

  Confused eyes met mine, and now that he was closer, I was able to see what color they were. No longer were they simply dark, but a profound mixture of blue and green. It made me wonder what they looked like in the light.

  Shaking off the spell that his intense stare had put me under, I tried to laugh it off. “A hat. Like, uh, a paperboy or newsboy cap, I think you might call it. You know, the ones that have the flat bill in the front?”

  His lips formed an O in understanding. Then he peered over the ledge again. “You dropped it in there?”

  Even though he was pointing to the sea below, I couldn’t look away from his face. The dark splatter of stubble on his cheeks and along his jawline made me wonder how long it had been since he last shaved, possibly less than a day. But it left me wishing I could feel it, just to find out if it was soft or rough.

  Clenching my hands at my sides, I fought the urge to reach out and touch him. “I didn’t drop it—it’s not like I tossed it in. The wind picked up, and I guess I wasn’t holding onto it as tightly as I thought. Mother Nature pulled it from my fingers and took it over the ledge into the waves.”

  “Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but I really don’t think you’re going to get that back. The current is really strong and likely took it right out to sea.” The way he regarded me made me stop and pay attention. It was almost as if he felt bad, even though it wasn’t his fault.

  No matter how hard I tried to fight back the urge to cry, the tears came anyway. They pooled along the bottom rims of my eyes and clouded my vision. I didn’t even bother to blink them away, too heartbroken to make the effort.

  “Hey, hey.” The kind stranger timidly caressed my arm in a comforting gesture.

  Waving him off, I turned around and covered my face with my hands, humiliated at the emotion that consumed me. I hated for anyone to see me cry. My parents had always told me that it was a sign of weakness—something that I should never let anyone witness.

  His soft shushes drifted over my shoulder before being carried away in the wind. Then he gently began to rub my upper arms as if compelled to offer his support yet unsure how. “It’s okay…it’s only a
hat. Can you not replace it?”

  I shook my head and pulled in a deep breath. Only a few tears had managed to make their way down my cheeks, so I quickly brushed off the moisture they had left behind and turned to look into his eyes. “It was my brother’s favorite cap.”

  Realization flashed across his expression. He didn’t need to ask, and I didn’t have to say anything else for him to understand why it had meant so much to me. However, his reaction puzzled me—he appeared sad, as though he could physically feel my loss.

  “Do you know what I do when I feel hopeless?” He didn’t wait for my shrug before answering his own question. “I close my eyes and imagine myself on top of the world.”

  “Like, literally?”

  He dropped his chin and slowly shook his head, his hiccupping shoulders the only evidence of his soft laughter. “No, I don’t imagine myself on the top of Mount Everest or anything. I picture my best life. Sometimes that involves winning a Pulitzer Prize. Other times, I’m a hundred years old, sitting in a rocking chair on a porch next to the love of my life.”

  I thought about it for a moment, really trying to understand what he was saying. “Are you trying to make me jump off this pier?”

  “What? No…not at all.”

  The smile on my lips couldn’t be stopped; it spread wide. And it felt good. “Then what would be the purpose of that exercise? Eventually, you will open your eyes and realize that you aren’t—as you say—on top of the world. You are exactly where you were before imagining your best life. Then what?”

  A short, barking laugh silenced the sounds of the ocean for a split second. “My grandmother used to always tell me that if you truly believe in your dreams, then they’ll come true. But you have to vividly picture it in your mind as if you’re living that life already.”

  I didn’t have to tell him what I really thought of his ritual, because it seemed as if he could read it from my expression. At least he didn’t react offensively, though. Instead, he smiled and held my arms in his warm hands.

  “Will you just try it, please?” His voice alone was convincing—the deep timbre with rough elements in the middle of most of his words. “Close your eyes and envision your best life. Not what’s going on right now, not what anyone else wants for you. Imagine what you want. How you would live your life if you had zero restrictions.”

  Normally, I would offer some sarcastic comment about being a space alien, and if my dream came true, then he would only have himself to blame for the inevitable invasion. But I couldn’t do that, because for some reason, I felt compelled to do as he asked.

  My lids closed on command, and within a few seconds, it was as if I had a movie playing in my head. It was dim at first, but it didn’t take long for the colors to come to life. It truly felt like I was there, walking down a street I had never seen before. A moment later, I could have sworn I heard sounds as well, people chattering as I strolled by, laughter flowing from smiling lips. And there I was, just a normal person amongst a sea of other normal people.

  They say that heavy is the head that wears the crown, and in my dream, my head felt light as a feather.

  When I opened my eyes, this beautiful stranger was the first thing I saw. He no longer had his hands on my arms, but he continued to stand exactly where he was when I had closed my eyes. While I stood there, smiling like a loon at this man, relief and happiness overwhelmed me. Even though I knew it was only temporary, it was nice to have a reprieve from the suffocating weight that had sat on my chest for days.

  Before I could say anything, he held out his hand. “I’m Ryan. What’s your name?”

  “Moira,” I said while slipping my palm against his.

  The corners of his lips curled the tiniest bit. “That’s not a name you hear often.”

  “Well, it’s my name, so I hear it every day,” I teased, laughing beneath my breath at my own joke. “Actually, it is rather common where I’m from.”

  And then his smile grew a bit wider, warming me against the chill in the air. “And where exactly is that? Your accent is…unique. I’ve been trying to place it, but I don’t think I can. It’s too different.”

  My mouth opened with an automatic response, but then I realized that he had no idea who I was. In this moment, I could be anyone. I glanced around, relieved to be alone—no security, no one watching me. I smiled and readied myself to offer him as honest a response as I could without giving up the anonymity that I had been given. “Europe. My dad was in the military, so we moved around a lot. I think I have picked up dialect traits from everywhere I’ve lived.”

  “That sounds like such an amazing experience.” He dropped his gaze to a fancy camera that hung by his side. “I used to travel a lot, but I don’t get the chance much anymore.”

  I hadn’t noticed the camera before, and now that I realized it was there, I had a couple of warring thoughts in my head. I wanted to ask about his travels and what it had to do with photography, but more importantly, I needed to know what he had been doing with the camera prior to the start of our conversation.

  “You weren’t taking pictures of me, were you?”

  His eyes flashed wide, panic practically freezing his facial features. “No, not at all. Why?”

  “I don’t know…you are out here with a camera, so I got worried that maybe you might have been taking my picture before trying to save me from jumping off the pier.” I tried to add a little humor so he didn’t think I was accusing him of anything. “I don’t like my photo being taken, that’s all.”

  He glanced down at his side again, now clutching the strap that he wore across his chest. “Well, yeah, I was taking pictures, but not of you. I love the way the sky changes colors when the sun goes down, so I wanted to capture it. It reminds me of the watercolor paintings my mom used to do when I was younger.”

  In the handful of minutes that Ryan and I had been talking, the sky had grown darker. This was the first time I noticed, as if his company had blinded me to everything around us. While that could have been dangerous, I had never felt safer.

  I was on the cusp of asking Ryan about his mother when he said, “It would be foolish to take a picture of you in front of a sunset.”

  Unsure if I should be offended or not, I waited to hear the rest of his statement.

  “The entire purpose of taking a picture of the sunset is to capture its beauty, but if you’re in the frame, then no one would even notice the setting sun. The vibrant colors in the sky would be pale and dull in comparison to you.”

  Thank God it’d gotten too dark for him to see the color of my cheeks or the ridiculous smile on my lips. “Wow, Ryan, that was some sharp cheddar. So sharp, in fact, that I am not sure you could cut it without it crumbling.” I covered my mouth with my fingers, hoping it would hide the laughter that came out in waves. “I feel like I need a bottle of wine to go with that amount of cheese.”

  Luckily, I wasn’t the only one enjoying the humor of his comment; Ryan’s shoulders jumped with the amusement that rolled through him. “Speaking of cheese and wine, would you like to grab some coffee or maybe a hot chocolate with me? There’s a little café just at the foot of the pier,” he said once he calmed down.

  “How does that have anything to do with cheese and wine?”

  “It doesn’t, but it’s getting rather chilly out here, so I thought you might want something to warm you up, and I had no idea how to ask without it sounding completely random. So what do you say? Share a few more minutes with me where it’s a bit warmer?”

  I should’ve declined his offer, made up some excuse, and then gone back to my hotel. Security had more than likely already noticed I was gone. I had snuck out, needing a moment to myself—grieving the loss of someone was hard enough as it was without constantly having a team of people watching your every move. But as I stared into his eyes, the fading light making it difficult to see the exotic color like before, I lost the ability to make the smart decision. All I could think about was the freedom this man offered, the chance to
just be me for once. I wasn’t ready to give that up, so I smiled and nodded, and then waited for him to lead me off the pier.

  On the way back, the wind was too strong to hold a conversation, which meant the majority of the walk was spent in silence. It was fine, though, considering I was too lost in my own thoughts to say much. The strange part was, my thoughts weren’t filled with the grief that had consumed me for the past week and a half. They were filled with the man at my side. Nothing romantic, just the peculiar way that he was able to console me with minimal effort—or even realizing it—and the incredible opportunity he’d given me to be a regular person, if only for a few minutes.

  I had to shove my hands into my pockets to keep from holding onto him, which confused me. It wasn’t like I was used to holding someone’s hand or arm while walking by their side. Yet there was an unexplainable pull to Ryan that left me with the urge to hold onto him.

  I blamed it on the comfort he had given me moments earlier—comfort I hadn’t been able to find anywhere else. Or with anyone else. The death of my brother was by far the hardest thing I’d ever had to deal with, and at a time when I wasn’t sure the pain would ever go away, Ryan showed up and took it from me for the time being. So if spending another ten or fifteen minutes with him while sharing a cup of coffee would allow me a reprieve for a bit longer, then I would take it. After all, I wasn’t fooling myself—I was fully aware that this wasn’t some Cinderella story.

  There was a drastic change in temperature once we made it inside the café. The wind no longer cut through me, and just the smell of coffee was enough to warm me up. Ryan led me to a table near the door, but rather than join me, he asked what I wanted to drink.