This was a two-parter challenge for Valentine’s Day.

Some love is just a lie of the soul, a constant battle for the ultimate state of control.

Some love is just a lie of the heart, the cold remains of what began with a passionate start.

A Matter of Trust, by Billy Joel.

Ben leaned back against the wall as he slowly ran the fingertips of one hand over the lock. He stared at the elegantly carved wooden chest and felt his heart rate lift at the sight of it. It had been so many years since he had even opened the chest, let alone really savoured its contents. For so long it had been covered over with a dark oilcloth and hidden away, as if he could somehow bury the pain by pushing it out of sight. Marie’s beautiful things were both a treasure and a blight on his already bruised spirit. He couldn’t bear to look on her tiny cream gloves or her lace fan without seeing her beautiful face in his mind’s eye. The remembered sound of her laughter as she teased him with the fan was both a painful memory and a cruel reminder of all that had been stolen from him. He couldn’t be sure how long it had taken him before he had finally ventured into the attic and allowed himself to open the chest for the first time. That afternoon was so many years behind him and yet it burned so brightly in his memory that it could well have been last week.

Slowly, reverently, he opened the lock and lifted the lid. He knew exactly what was in there and he found himself lifting things aside to reach his target. Finally his fingers touched the cool leather of his wife’s journal and he lifted it out into the light. The lantern created warm shadows against the wall and he turned the wick a little higher as he settled back once more. His wife, for all her outward confidence, had been a very private person. He knew she kept journals, but never once had she shared a word with him while she was alive. It had taken days of staring at this one on his bedside table to convince himself it wasn’t a betrayal to read it.

In actual fact, it was a matter of trust.

Marie had been big on trust. It wasn’t hard to see why when she had trusted and that trust had been abused in the worst way. The fact she had chosen to trust him with her heart and her future was something he had not fully grasped at the time. But after reading her journals, well his heart had overflowed once again with the enormity and rarity of her gift.

Ben flipped open to a well-worn page and smiled at his wife’s delicate handwriting. The fact the page showed the evidence of tears was not lost on him.

Some love is just a lie of the soul, a constant battle for the ultimate state of control. I could not bear to find myself caught by such “love” ever again. How do I know this man will love me for me? I see it in his eyes, but is that just my foolish heart seeing what I wish to see?

Ben looked again at his wife’s heartfelt words. She had been so badly abused and yet something in her still yearned to be loved. And to love. He could not imagine a world without his beloved Marie or the son she had gifted him with. He turned back to the journal once more and frowned at the next line.

Some love is just a lie of the heart, the cold remains of what began with a passionate start.

He disagreed.

True love was never a lie. Passion was not the same thing as love. His wife was certainly full of passion! A spitfire, some would have called her. He laughed softly as he recalled the night she had thrown a book at his head. It had missed as she was off balance due to her advanced stage of pregnancy, but the anger behind it was not lost on him. Life had certainly never been dull with Marie around.

He was unaware as somebody slowly approached until he saw boots right in front of him.

“Pa … are you alright?”

Ben looked up to see Marie’s boy eyeing him while trying not to intrude.

“I’m fine, Joseph.”

Ben smiled to himself as he heard his son’s standard line come out of his own mouth.

“Why don’t you sit down?”

Joe looked uncomfortable as he glanced at his mother’s trunk. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent his own time alone in the attic, going through the contents and trying to attach memories to each item. He slowly settled himself next to his father and leaned back into the solid wood of the wall.

“I was just …” Ben paused as he tried to find the words. What exactly was he doing?

“Enjoying being with Mama?”

Ben looked across at his son and watched as the shadows from the lantern danced across his face. The eyes that watched him so intently were so like his mother’s. Marie didn’t miss a thing and neither did her boy, apparently.

He couldn’t bring himself to answer so he simply nodded.

“She’d want you to be happy. You know that, don’t you?”

When Ben still didn’t answer, Joe prodded a little further.

“Marrying again isn’t a betrayal of her. She loved you and she’d want you to be happy.”

“You’ve read these, haven’t you?” Ben held up the journal in his hand as Joe slowly nodded. His son was well past the age where he needed to ask permission, but it still felt a little strange that his son had read of his mother’s doubts about his father’s ability to love her back.

“She loved you.”

It was such a simple statement that covered so very much territory.

“And you? How do you feel about your old father taking another wife?”

Joe reached a hand towards his father’s forearm and wrapped his fingers around it.

“Well … she won’t be Mama … but I’d say Sarah makes you happy … and that’s good enough for me.”