Timing Is Everything

by Steinsiek, Sabra Brown;

  Then he raped her.

  * * *

  When it was over, as she lay sobbing on the bed, Cary got dressed. He gathered up her clothing and tossed it to her. “Get dressed, Sha’leen. I promised Jamie I’d see you safely home.”

  She dressed, shaking, too afraid not to do as she was told, while he watched her dispassionately from a chair by the door. As she put on her shoes, he came to her, raising his hands to her breasts, laughing as she turned away. “Your sweater’s buttoned wrong, darlin’,” he said, his accent no longer funny to her. She stood very still as he unbuttoned it before slowly doing up the buttons again. Then he looked at her, assessing her, before saying, “You’re going to have a nasty bruise on your cheek, Sha’leen. It’s really too bad that had to happen—falling against the bar like that when you slipped on that puddle of melted ice.” He smiled at her confusion. “We can’t be telling them the truth, now, can we?” and she mutely shook her head.

  No one saw them when he walked her out of the hotel as if nothing had happened. She was acutely aware of him beside her and kept seeing glimpses in her mind of what had happened. When they came to her house, he stopped and lifted her chin to look into her eyes.

  “Sweet Sha’leen. I’m sorry your first time had to be so rough. We’ll do better tomorrow,” he said as he kissed her gently before giving her a little push toward the stairs and door. He watched her go in before turning away, heading back toward the hotel, whistling, a man well-pleased with his life.

  * * *

  He was awakened the next morning by a pounding on his door. Muttering a string of curses, sure that it was his cameraman ready to leave on some hot tip, he pulled the door open, “Tim, you bastard, this had better…” His voice had trailed off as he saw it was the hotel manager, with a couple of policemen and Jamie O’Hearn.

  “Mr. Edwards, I’m sorry to be bothering you so early, but these gentlemen insisted they had to see you.” Cary could see the murder in Jamie’s eyes and knew he’d have to do some quick talking to get out of this one.

  “That’s fine. Come in. Could you see that some coffee is sent up, please?” he asked the manager before closing the door. Turning to face the trio who waited for him, he realized that both of the police officers were O’Hearn brothers as well.

  “Sit down, please.”

  None of them made any move as Jamie asked in a deadly quiet voice, “What the bloody hell did you do to our Sha’leen last night?”

  Cary sat down, looking cool and composed. “Me do to Sha’leen? I assure you it was the other way around, boys.”

  He spun them a tale of getting drunk and Sha’leen insisting on seeing him up to his room. “I was still upset over the death of my friend. Sha’leen seemed determined to comfort me, and, Jamie, I’m sorry, but I was in no shape to say no.”

  “Then why did she try to kill herself last night?” Jamie asked as he threw a piece of paper at Cary. “Why’d she leave this note for our mother to find this morning when she didn’t come down for church?”

  Cary was genuinely surprised. It had never occurred to him that she might react this way. “I’m shocked. The poor girl must have been so ashamed of her behavior…” His sentence was cut off as Jamie’s massive fist connected with his face.

  * * *

  He spent most of the day in a filthy jail cell, the brothers having arrested him for rape and assault. They hadn’t even allowed him to dress, dragging him out of the hotel barefoot and wearing only his robe, his nose still bleeding from the blow that Jamie had landed.

  Luckily, his cameraman had seen what had happened and called it in. TNC had contacted a lawyer who arrived just at the end of his initial hearing. His objections and the network’s personal assurance had gotten Cary released on bail, confined to the hotel suite until a trial date was set.

  His lawyer had found him there two hours later, packing.

  “Going somewhere, Mr. Edwards?” he asked as he looked at the partially packed suitcases.

  “Hell, yes! You don’t think I’m going to hang around here while some Irish whore makes up lies about me!”

  “That’s precisely what I think you’re going to do, Mr. Edwards. The ‘whore’, as you so graciously put it, is in the hospital. She regained consciousness a little while ago. She’s given a statement to the police, and I think they’ll be here as soon as they get the judge to revoke your bail.”

  “Then I’d better get moving,” Cary said as he closed a suitcase. “You’ll take me to the airport, won’t you?”

  The lawyer was saved from answering by a loud knocking at the door. Before they could answer, it was opened with a passkey. Cary was once again led out of the hotel, better dressed this time, but with the same accessory handcuffs.

  This time he spent two days in jail before he received word that a deal had been struck. He was being deported, the network would be paying a bundle to Sha’leen, and he was fired as soon as he stepped foot on American soil.

  He was released and returned to the hotel. The first flight out was not until morning, so Cary spent the night in the hotel room, an O’Hearn guard outside his door. He consoled himself for the loss of his career with a bottle of the finest Irish whiskey. In a brilliant display of convoluted logic, he blamed it all on Annie. If she hadn’t died…if he hadn’t seen that report…if Sha’leen had not been so concerned…he drank himself into a stupor, never hearing the door when it opened.

  Chapter 55

  “Signore?” Taylor looked up from the book he was reading to see their housekeeper, Rosina, standing in the doorway.

  “Sí, Rosina?”

  “Scusi, but the little one—Meg—she is too much alone. It is not good for her. If you will permit, I have a niece of the same age. I could bring her with me. She could be company, a friend?”

  Taylor looked out the open doors that led to the swimming pool. As usual, Meg was in the water, this time with her arms and chin propped up on the side of the pool, her eyes closed, lost in her own world. Rosina was right; she did need someone else around.

  “That’s very kind, Rosina. Thank you for thinking of it. She could perhaps come with you tomorrow?”

  “Sí, she will be with me in the morning.” Rosina was all smiles as she left the room.

  Taylor turned back to look at Meg. They’d been here two weeks already, and he felt like it had been good for both of them. At least here they had some privacy.

  A few days after the funeral, Meg had gone out to get the mail. A photographer had jumped out from his hiding place and frightened her to tears. It had been the last straw. They’d been plagued by the media ever since it was announced that Taylor Morgan’s bride was dead less than four months after their wedding. The speculation in the media was rampant; some of the tabloids even suggested that Annie’s death was mysterious! He’d released a statement through his agent’s office, but it hadn’t satisfied them. The day after the incident with the photographer, Taylor and Meg had left the country, coming here to the quiet villa by the Mediterranean.

  The peace had been welcomed by Taylor. He had assumed that Meg felt the same way. Obviously, Rosina had been paying more attention than he had. Hired by the leasing agency, she had been doing her best to “mother” both of them since they’d arrived.

  Putting down his book, Taylor walked out into the late morning sunlight. In the distance, he could see the sea, the pool designed to blend in with it. Meg heard his footsteps and opened her eyes.

  “Have you grown fins and a tail yet, Meg?” He kicked off his sandals and sat on the edge of the pool with his feet in the water.

  “Not yet, Taylor, although I think I may have seen some webbing between my toes this morning.”

  Taylor laughed as he said, “I don’t doubt it,” and he kicked his feet to splash her. He watched as she dove under the surface and swam to the end of the pool and back without coming up for air. When she surfaced aga
in, he said, “Come sit with me a minute, Meg. Rosina made some lemonade.”

  When they were seated under the table’s umbrella, Taylor took a good look at her. Her fair skin had darkened to a golden shade from the sun. The circles that had been under her eyes for so long were fading, and she looked more like the Meg he was used to.

  “How are you doing, Meg?” They hadn’t talked much in their time here, each of them needing space and recognizing that need in the other.

  “I’m better, Taylor.”

  “I can see that. Are you getting bored just hanging around here with me and Rosina?”

  She thought for a moment before she admitted, “A little…”

  “Rosina has a niece who’s your age. She thought she might bring her tomorrow.”

  “Does she swim?”

  “I don’t know, Meg. You’ll have to ask Rosina.”

  “It would be nice to have someone around,” she said before her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean…”

  “I know. It’s all right.”

  “I’m going to go talk to Rosina, ok?”

  “Go on. Then, later, if you’d like we can take a walk down to the village.”

  “Great!”

  Taylor shook his head and smiled as she disappeared through the open door. She was beginning to sound like the old Meg, and he was grateful that Rosina had come to him. It would be nice to hear her laugh again.

  * * *

  When Taylor came down to breakfast the next morning, laughter—or giggling to be more exact—was just what he did hear. As he came out onto the pool deck where the table was set for breakfast, he suddenly wondered if Meg had been cloned during the night. Instead of one dark-haired girl, there were two.

  “Taylor! This is Elisabetta. Rosina is her aunt. She’s twelve, too, but I’m a week older, and she loves to swim and says her uncle has horses that we can ride!”

  “Good morning to you, too, Meg,” Taylor said with a smile as he sat at the table with the two girls. “I’m happy to meet you, Elisabetta. I’m Meg’s father.”

  “Sí, Signore Morgan. I am happy to meet you, too.”

  “If it is all right with Rosina, you may call me Taylor. I’d like that better than Signore Morgan. What are the two of you going to do today?”

  As Megan talked about their plans, Taylor studied them. They were pretty much the same size. Elisabetta’s hair was longer and her eyes a deep brown, but it would have been easy to mistake them for sisters.

  “Taylor, I’m taking Betta upstairs. See you later.” He could hear their laughter as they ran up the stairs to the corner room that Meg had claimed. For the first time since he’d told her about her mother’s illness, Taylor felt like she was going to be all right. He poured a cup of coffee and looked out over the endless sea, the constant ache in his heart eased for the moment.

  * * *

  Laura,

  It appears that I now have two daughters instead of just the one I brought with me. Betta, short for Elisabetta, is the niece of our housekeeper. She suggested a couple of weeks ago that she could bring her along because Meg needed someone. I’m so glad she did.

  In a sad coincidence, Betta lost her parents two years ago in a car accident. She’s been living with her aunt and uncle ever since. The girls hit it off right away, and I think it’s helped Meg to know she’s not the only one who’s lost a parent. Rosina hadn’t told me that detail, but Meg did the first night after Betta had gone home with her aunt. When I asked Rosina about it the next day, she smiled and said that wasn’t the way the girls should meet. Friends first—stories later. She was right. The two of them have become inseparable. Betta is here with us almost more than she is at her own home.

  The most important thing is that Meg is laughing again. I still hear her crying some nights, but I think she has begun to live again.

  And, I guess I am, too. The morning Betta came into our lives, I finally was able to begin singing again. Or at least, I’m trying to get my voice back into a reasonable shape. Months now without practice, and I sound like it! That first morning, I was interrupted by a knock on the door. It was Rosina, with a wide-eyed Betta behind her, asking if I was all right! I think I better work hard!

  Taylor

  Laura had already heard all about Betta from Meg. They were still corresponding by email and Meg had written the evening of her first day with Betta. She had been so full of joy about her newfound friend but was worried that she shouldn’t be so happy. Laura had assured her that it was fine, that her mother would have wanted her to laugh and have friends. After that, Meg had written less often. While she missed her messages, Laura was glad that Meg was going on with her life.

  Taylor was a different problem. He had only written a few times since he and Meg had returned to Europe, always polite, friendly notes with nothing of substance. As Annie had predicted, he had withdrawn. This message was a good sign that he, too, was beginning to think about living again—and she could begin to hope

  * * *

  Laura,

  It doesn’t seem possible that the summer is gone. I’ve decided to stay here for a while longer. Meg has been enrolled in the convent school that Betta attends. She’s so happy here that I hate the thought of uprooting her.

  I’m still studying with the voice teacher I found. He’s a terrible slave driver and has been furious that I let my voice go without exercise for so long. He’s right, of course, and I have finally begun to feel like I might make it back to where I was.

  My agent has been after me to think about a new CD and, amazingly enough, I am. I’ve begun to play with some ideas and some new music. Any requests?

  Taylor

  * * *

  Laura,

  You should hear Meg chattering away in Italian! It’s as if she was born to it. She and Betta love to use it to tease me since I am nowhere near as fluent as they are. Betta has made equal progress in English, and the Sisters of the convent school seem pleased with the advances that both of them have made.

  Now, if only my voice teacher were as pleased!

  I’ve signed a contract with the recording company. I’ll start on the new CD in the spring or summer, to be released next fall. I’m still sorting through music, trying to decide what to include. They’ve given me free reign with this one so the responsibility is all mine.

  Taylor

  * * *

  Laura,

  What a pleasant surprise to open my weeks-late Smithsonian this morning and find your article on Holly Hill House! Why didn’t you tell me? You more than did it justice, and I’m sure the owners (and the Chamber of Commerce!) were very pleased. I remember how taken you were with the house and am glad you went back to visit it.

  All of that seems so long ago—a lifetime, really. It will soon be five months since Annie died. I still see things every day that I want to tell her about, but it’s getting easier to bear.

  Meg and I are hosting a dinner party for Thanksgiving. Of course, it’s just another day here, but we decided it was a good day to thank all of our new friends. Betta’s other family is coming, as are my voice teacher, and Meg’s teacher and principal from the school. We plan on doing an old-fashioned, traditional dinner. Meg even convinced her teacher that it’s going to be an educational experience, so both she and Betta are off for the day to help on the condition they turn in reports about the holiday.

  I wish you could join us.

  Taylor

  * * *

  The Thanksgiving dinner was a great success, once they got Rosina to give up her kitchen to them! Finding all the ingredients had been an adventure in itself, but everything had come together and seemed to be appreciated by their guests.

  It was late by the time everyone left. Rosina had wanted to stay and clean up the kitchen, but Taylor had forbidden it and made her leave with the rest of her family. Betta had gone home with them,
and Taylor had sent Meg on up to bed. She still had to go to school tomorrow.

  With everyone gone and the house quiet, Taylor finished up in the kitchen. All day, he’d been haunted by memories of last year. Annie had always teased him about his lack of cooking skills—she would have been astounded at the dinner he and Meg had managed. For the first time in a long while, he felt an overwhelming grief for the loss of Annie. He was standing at the sink, his head bowed and eyes closed, the pain of losing her as fresh as it had been the first day, when he felt Meg’s arms go around him. Turning, he looked down at her and could see the same pain in her eyes.

  “Missing her, Meg?” She nodded soundlessly, her eyes welling with tears and he picked her up and carried her into the living room. He sat down in an oversized chair and wrapped an afghan around them both. “I miss her, too,” he whispered as her tears soaked the front of his shirt, his getting lost in her hair.

  Chapter 56

  Laura stood by the postal drop-box with a manila envelope in her hand. It contained the contract she’d just signed to write an article about the Mediterranean countryside. She had enough of a freelance reputation now that most of her proposals were getting picked up. But this one—this one was different.

  It was six months now since Annie had died. Six months that Taylor had been dropping in on her cyberlife. Six months of not knowing how he really felt. And she was tired of waiting. This time she was going after what she wanted. In this case, what—who—she wanted was Taylor.

  She didn’t have a lot to go on. Taylor had never told her exactly where he and Meg were. All she knew was it was a villa on the Mediterranean. This envelope was her financing to get her there.

  “Lady? You gonna stand there all day?” Laura turned to find an impatient line forming behind her.

  “Sorry,” she said, then dropped the envelope in the slot.

  It was done. There was no turning back. Laura left the post office with a new spring in her step as she thought about the possibilities.