4: A house tour

 *Ben*

 My body's reaction as she places her hand on my arm startles me. She might as Well have rubbed her naked body against mine. Seriously, what is wrong with me ? Why do I react so strongly to having her near ?

 Fuck this, I need to get to town, if not New York then the nearest bar or something, and tonight. The idea of going to bed in my room, imagining her naked form spread on my fathers bed …  I close my eyes shortly, no I refuse to think about that.

 As we walk into the hallway I am trying to hold my breath as every single one has my nose filled with a seductive scent of jasmine flowers. No common scent that half the Young women wear for her. Actually everything about her seems far from common, why would she marry my father ? I am sure she could easily get a young handsome man.

 “I have to say that I am truly sorry for being insensitive about your fertility. Sorry, I didn't mean to bring back painful memories”. The pain in her eyes as she had answered me hit me like a fist to the guts. I had wished to turn back time and rip out my own tongue before asking her those things.

 “I still think of him every day, Mr Archer. His death colors my actions to this day. You should see this as a good thing as it makes me understand your actions. I realise you just want to protect your father from being taken advantage of. I promise you that I wish him no harm”.

 I look at her. “It is still a conundrum to me Mrs Sinclair, why are you willing to marry a man who can almost be your grandfather ? there has to be something behind it”.

 “I have known love … love does not give you security, a roof over your head or food. I am in need of security”.

 “So how long were you married ?”

 She sighs softly. “We were together for two years”.

 “And how did you lose him, if I may ask ?”

 Another sigh as she looks out the window. “Sickness”.

 “My condolences, truly. How long ago was this ?”

 “Six months”. After a small pause she glances up at me. “Why don't you just ask your father to see our correspondence ? It’s fine with me and it will answer all your questions”.

 I don’t believe that, at all. I have a nagging feeling I could spend the rest of my life asking questions and not have all the answers I wish for about her.

 “Is there a reason none of the clocks are working ?” She looks at a tall clock in the hallway as we pass it.

 I lead her up the stairs. “Oh they work. They were just all stopped at the day of my birth, the moment my mother passed”. Half an hour was the amount of motherly I got, all the time she had been given to hold me. 

 “How did your mother die ?”

 “I killed her”. At the top of the stairs, I turn and face her, not surprised to see horror painted on her finely formed features. Apparently my father's messages to her don't answer all the questions. “When she gave birth to me. Why do you think my father named me Killian?”

 Her eyes go wide. “No, that has to be … a coincidence. No one would be that mean towards their own kid”.

 “I am not sure he was striving to be mean. It was more a reminder to himself and to me. I want you to truly understand what your life here will be like. So let's start here”. I find the right key, unlocking the door. As I open it I have to remove cobwebs from the opening before we can enter. I make a sweeping motion with my arm towards the massive and once upon a time elaborate room. “This is the ballroom. The last party here was hosted at Christmas, shortly before my mom passed away”.