Chapter Eight -Motherly Persuasion.

Eleanor's POV

I was sitting in my living room, and the silence of the house was extending around me like a thick fog.

My hands were clasped together, but that was not really so, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. The secret of Isabella had come out, and I was unable to shake off the burden.

And she was my daughter, and with all the love and trust that passed between us I was like standing on the precipice of a cliff, not knowing whether the next step would be what would save her, or break her right down.

I debated internally. Should I contact Adrian at this point? Would it be treachery to tell him, or would it be shelter? He had abused her, disgraced her, and yet,there was that connection, that child within her, whoever it was.

Can I rely on him to be a responsible person, to do right by Isabella and this baby?

Would my interference only open old sore places, run the risk of causing more havoc?

I breathed out, but rubbed my hands across my face. Time was not sitting back to enable me to make the ideal choice. To be of any use to Isabella I must do something,and I must do it with caution.

I lastly picked my phone and dialed the number of Adrian. Twice the line rang and he answered.

“Eleanor?” His voice was wary, cautious, as if he already sensed trouble.

"It is me, Adrian" .

I said firmly but calmly.

" I must speak to you of Isabella"

There was a long pause. I could just about hear him grit his teeth, thinking.

“Isabella?… what? What about her?”

"She is pregnant, I said, the words solid and yet deliberate!. I am not ignorant that you are. complicated, but this is happening to both of you, and you must know what is going on, and you ought to be included in the discussion hereafter".

“Pregnant?”

With a mixture of shock and disbelief his voice broke.

“Wait… what? When? How…? Eleanor, I—

I know it is much, I thought, but I must not have him lose sight of the point of the call by panicking, you see.

"we must think about her future. She is frightened, and she does not know what to do. She needs to have stability, someone to confide in. I believe that it is possible to be that person, and you can do it, provided you want to".

.Another pause. I might have caught a stealthy rustling of papers on his side, a sigh of a man attempting to gather himself together.

"I....I do not know whether I can"

he admitted, and his voice was little, nearly frail.

“I… I don’t know if I can,” he admitted, his voice small, almost vulnerable.

"After all, I got it wrong, Eleanor,I hurt her,I humiliated her,How am I supposed to... I don’t know if she’d let me back in her life, let alone be involved with this,child"

You need not know it all now, I said to myself.

" It only takes honesty, presence, and readiness to make an attempt, that is all she needs"

"I--okay, I think, I mean, I want to do everything right with her, Eleanor, I really want to do it,And I don’t know where to begin".

"I don’t even know whether she will believe me”.

His voice cracked again, tinged with fear and reluctant acceptance.

"The first thing is to respect her space,".I told him

" Don’t push,Be there when she is ready,And,don’t lie, If she finds you in any lie, it will ruin it all".

"Right. I...I know. Thank you, Eleanor".

"I’ll… I’ll try.”

I sighed, and a sliver of hope came to me.

It was probably not ideal, but it was a beginning.I put up the phone and reclined in my seat and shut my eyes. The rest was now in the power of fate, both to me and to them. However, the bad timing of fate struck. I heard Isabella going about the apartment, and some steps, which were faintly heard in the other room.I didn’t know if she had overheard. Would she believe me after all? I felt guilty thinking that she might perceive my intervention as betrayal rather than protection.In a few minutes I heard a light click of her bedroom door. I felt great pity towards her. She was caught in this tornado of passions, of deceits and decisions of which she had not demanded. My heart cried out to go to her, to embrace her, to comfort her that she was not alone. Still I sat and left her to her evidently needed space.Then, as I looked through the window of the living room, I saw something,or somebody,moving across the road. I squinted, fainting to see the figure, and my stomach clenched. The familiar broad shoulders, the confident stride. it was Victor,Isabella looked at the window, her eyes opened, and her face turned pale and strained. I might have sworn I saw the recognition pass across her features, the strain tightening her jaw, the manner in which her hands trembled a little as she caught at the edge of her desk

.His eyes were serious, and concentrated on the building. I could see the strength of his stride, the purpose of his approach. There was something in the manner of his movements which caused me to shiver.

He was not passing but was coming to her.I would have cried at her, screamed across the room, but I knew. Any abrupt statements could cause her to panic. She had to work out in her own time, in her own way. I just hoped that she would perceive it as a warning and not as a threat.She gulped and turned her back on the window, and her hands clasped over her belly, her limbs as stiff as a drawn bow.

The fear, anticipation, guilt, and confusion crossed her face. I knew it at this distance,the tempest which she was setting herself against.

The shadow of Victor hung awhile on the sidewalk, and then he came nearer, with eyes watching, keen, calculative. The lips of Isabella set together, and her shoulders sank only a little, as the burden of her secrets seemed to be pressing on her more than ever.I instinctively made a reach, but I held back. This was something she had to deal with herself, as she had to deal with the reality of her pregnancy and the decisions it required of her. I just wished that Victor would arrive at the door, and she would stand her ground, to defend herself, and perhaps one day she would be able to trust again.The room was as yet quite quiet, broken only by the slight hissing of the city beyond. The tension was in the air, so much so, that it was against the walls. Victor was deliberate and inevitable in his approach.

And Isabella?

She was in the eye of the storm, heart racing, mind whirling, caught between betrayals in the past, and uncertainties in the future and could do nothing about what was to happen next.