The Space Between by Erik Tomblin Page B

woman's resemblance to Emily. Her hair was much longer and lighter, but it was straight and hung around her face in the same manner. Her cheekbones and jaw were soft like Emily's, and the similar plump, almond shape of her eyes stopped his breath. Even her lips, just full enough to be irresistible, had the same profile.
    Her appearance and the movement of the brush, a polished silver piece with an ornate design across the back, were hypnotic. He was still watching the smooth movement of her arm when she called his name.
    "Isaac!"
    The young woman dropped the brush onto the vanity and rushed to wrap her arms around him. Her hands moved to the back of his head and she pulled his face down, planting kisses across his lips, cheeks and forehead in a frenzy of affection. He couldn't help but stand there and let her, reciprocating when their lips met. She smelled of lavender and honey, and left the faintest sweet taste upon him when they kissed.
    She leaned away, letting her hands slip from his hair to the sides of his face. Her perfect smile — white teeth and full, pink lips — was framed by rosy, plump cheeks hinting at her childhood visage. Two blue eyes sparkled at him like tiny luminescent moons, lighting up the rest of her face with such liveliness as he'd never seen in any other person. It was intoxicating, and Isaac found himself immediately addicted, never wanting to look upon anything else for as long as he had the power of sight.
    Her hair was swept back from her face, only a few strands daring to break away and obscure her fair, flawless skin. She reached up and tucked them back behind her ear. Isaac felt his heart slip in a few extra beats at this simple gesture. As she stared at him, her gaze darting about his face as if she wanted to take it all in, her hands remained on his cheeks. He noticed a few tears had left shiny trails that crept toward her lips. He reached up, wanting to take away whatever caused the wistful sadness brewing in her eyes, but unable to think of anything short of wiping the tears away with his thumbs.
    When she spoke his name again, Isaac tingled at how comfortable and familiar it sounded upon her tongue.
    "Oh, Isaac. I've been so worried."
    She drew him close again, and he could feel the soft shape of her body beneath the simple white nightgown, one that looked like something his grandmother used to wear. This comparison did very little to deter his arousal as she pressed herself tightly against his chest and stomach. His heart stuttered under the weight of her beauty and the obvious admiration she had for him.
    He wanted to speak, but found he was immobilized.
    "Father has gone practically mad!" She pulled Isaac over toward the bed, and he sat next to her, their hands now locked together in her lap. The feel of her bare legs under the gown where his knuckles lay was distracting. "He won't even allow me to dine with him any longer. He brings all of my meals up to me, and I believe he's fired Miss Rose, so who knows what state the rest of the house is in by now?"
    Isaac glanced behind the girl and saw the window was still covered with several planks nailed to the frame. He wondered if he should ask her name. She knew his, was even acting as if they were well acquainted with one another. He wondered if she knew how he had arrived here. Just knowing who he was seemed to defy all logic.
    "I'm scared," she said, speaking softly and dropping her gaze to their intertwined hands in her lap. She had begun to cry, and Isaac felt horrible seeing her that way, as if he'd played some part in her sorrow without even knowing it. "After reading mother's journal... I'm afraid he'll do the same to me. He already is," and she turned her head to glance behind her, referencing the window.
    "Your father? He's keeping you locked in here?" The need to know her name suddenly lost priority, though the reference to a journal was not lost on Isaac.
    "Of course," she said, her tone implying she thought he was being