by I. T. Lucas
64
Margaret
After lunch when Ana and Leon had gone on their daily hike, leaving Margaret with Bowen, she ducked into the bathroom like the big coward she was.
Yesterday she’d been saved from his probing questions by their return, but now they were gone, and he would no doubt use the opportunity to keep digging into her shameful past.
She should never have agreed to stay through the weekend. Tomorrow, Ana and Leon were leaving the cabin and going their separate ways for a while. Strangely, neither looked too distraught about that, so maybe their separation period was going to be short.
Margaret wished them the best of luck, and she also wished that they would stay until Sunday and not leave her alone with Bowen with no buffer.
If all he wanted was sex, she could’ve dealt with that, but he wanted so much more than that. She would have loved to give him all of it and more, but he wouldn’t want any part of her if he knew how horrible she really was. A lifetime of helping others couldn’t compensate for what she’d done, and once Bowen found out, he would want nothing to do with her.
She could keep it from him, pretend that the past didn’t exist, and he would never find out. But she would know, and it would forever eat at her from the inside. Hiding it was akin to deceiving him, and it would cost her the last shreds of her dignity.
Margaret didn’t have much left, and she desperately clung to the little she had. If she lost it, it would be the end of her. She would either find a way to end her miserable existence or succumb to the false oblivion drugs offered.
A soft knock on the door startled her.
“Are you okay?” Bowen asked. “You’ve been in there for almost an hour.”
“I’m okay.” She put a hand over her racing heart. “I’ll be out in a moment.”
“I’ll make coffee.”
“Okay.”
Sitting on the edge of the tub for a moment longer, she tried to think of a good excuse for why she had to leave tomorrow. Perhaps she could call Riley again and ask if she was needed?
But what if Bowen insisted on coming to Safe Haven with her?
She needed to end his inexplicable infatuation with her. Bowen had a heart of gold, and his need to save her was clouding his judgment.
It was time he learned the truth about the woman he believed was such a saint.
Easier said than done, though.
The only one who had known all of her sins and hadn’t judged her for them was Emmett. Her savior who had turned out to be a sinner himself.
No wonder he’d been so understanding.
God, she missed him. Not as a lover, but as a leader, a teacher, the man who had shown her a way to rise from the ashes and make something of herself. He’d been harsh, demanding, but by doing so he’d pushed her to do better, to excel, and to feel pride in her work when it had finally gotten his approval.
After flushing the toilet that she hadn’t used, Margaret washed her hands, splashed some water on her face, and toweled it off. Taking a deep breath, she leaned on her crutches and hobbled out of the bathroom.
Bowen regarded her with worry in his eyes. “You look pale. Are you sure that everything is all right?”
Margaret nodded and took a seat at the counter. “I’m fine. I was thinking about Ana and Leon leaving, and I realized that we should leave as well. We’ve hogged this cabin for long enough. Maybe some of your cousins would like to use it over the weekend.”
She was such a damn coward. She’d always been one, which was the main reason her life had turned out as horrible as it had. If she had been more assertive and less fearful, she would be in a much better place today.
Shaking his head, Bowen poured coffee into two cups and brought them to the counter. “Are you scared of being here alone with me? Is that why you want to leave early?”
“I’m not scared of you, Bowen. I never was. You are the best human being I know.”
He chuckled. “Compared to the bunch of goody two-shoes you’ve lived with for the past decade or two, I’m probably the wickedest person you know.”
“Not even close.” She put a spoonful of sugar in her coffee, added milk, and stirred. “It’s time, Bowen. You need to get back to your life, and I need to get back to mine.” She swallowed. “I need you to book me a flight for tomorrow afternoon.”
65
Bowen
Bowen wasn’t buying it. Margaret was scared, the scent of her fear was unmistakable, but he didn’t know what she was scared of. If it wasn’t of him, then of what?
“If I’m booking you a flight, I’m booking one for myself as well.” He rose to his feet and scooped her into his arms.
“What are you doing?” Her arms instinctively went around his neck.
“I’m getting to the bottom of this.” He carried her to the couch and sat down with her in his arms, positioning her in his lap sideways, so her legs, the good one and the one in the cast, were stretched out comfortably. “What are you afraid of, Margaret?”
Avoiding his eyes, she looked down. “Of your reaction once you learn the truth about me.”
“Unless you murdered someone in cold blood, there is nothing that would change my opinion about you.”
That got a small smile out of her. “What if I murdered someone not in cold blood? What if it was a crime of passion?”
“Then I will hear you out and determine whether it was justified.”
“You are very forgiving.”
“Not at all. But I know you better than you think. You are incapable of hurting anyone.”
“You might be right, but sometimes inaction is just as bad. I’m a coward, and my cowardice is at the root of all that has happened to me.”
Cupping her cheek, he gently guided her head so that her other cheek was resting on his chest. “Tell me what happened to you.”
“I’m ashamed.”
“Don’t be. I’m not going to judge your choices or what you had to do to survive.”
Heaving a sigh, Margaret closed her eyes. “My mother died when I was sixteen of a viral infection that she’d picked up in a hospital while having a minor operation. My father didn’t last long after that. He died from heart failure. The only family I had was an uncle whom I didn’t know and who lived in another state. He didn’t come for me, and I was sent to foster care. It wasn’t as bad as people think, and the couple who took me in were okay. But I was lonely, and frightened, and I used the only assets I had, which were a pretty face and a nice figure. I met a guy who was more than a decade older than me, had a paying job, and proposed after dating me for two months. I thought that my troubles were over, but they had just begun.”
Suspecting where Margaret’s story was going, Bowen’s arms tightened protectively around her. “Go on.”
“He started hitting me when I got pregnant. At first, it was just a shove here, a slap there, but it got progressively worse. He never hit me in the stomach or punched me in the face, it was always in places that I could hide under clothing, and like an idiot, I did. I was ashamed, I was scared, and I didn’t know who to turn to for help. He always apologized, blaming it on the booze or on stress at work. And each time he promised that it would never happen again, but it did. Over and over, and no matter how hard I tried to please him, to avoid his wrath, he always found reasons to knock me around.”
Bowen’s fangs were itching to elongate, but he tamped down the urge. It wasn’t about him and the rage he felt. This was about Margaret pouring her heart out and him showing his support.
He kissed the top of her head. “I’m so sorry for all that you’ve suffered. And I’m glad that you somehow managed to escape. It must have been very difficult.”
She heaved another sigh. “When our daughter was born, he fell in love with her, and the violence stopped for a while. I hoped that we’d turned a new page and that we could be a normal family, but I should have known better. It started again soon enough, worse than before.”
She lifted her head and looked at h
im. “I wasn’t clumsy, and those broken bones were not accidents. That was how I got addicted to opioids. It started with the first hospital visit and a prescription that I abused. It was easy back then to get more. There was no awareness of how dangerous opioids were and that they were just as addictive as street drugs. I became an expert at manipulating the system and getting more prescribed, and when that failed, I bought them from dealers. I pinched pennies, skimming from the household budget. I barely ate, saving on groceries. I got nice baby outfits and toys second-hand for next to nothing and claimed that I’d spent a lot of money on them.” She sighed. “I became very creative.”
Bowen had a feeling that Margaret wasn’t telling him the worst of it, but he wasn’t going to press. She was finally confiding in him, and his heart broke for her. He would take only what she was willing to give, but he could encourage her with his support.
“You did what you had to do to survive. I’m not judging you.”
She huffed out a breath. “That’s not the worst part. I needed more and more to get that disassociated floaty feeling going, and saving on groceries and other household expenses wasn’t cutting it.” She swallowed. “He wasn’t blind to what was going on, but he couldn’t lock me in the house to prevent me from getting more, and beating me up was just making things worse. Eventually, he hired a nanny to take care of our daughter when he was at work because he didn’t trust me with her.” Margaret’s eyes were full of tears when she looked up at him. “That’s the only thing I was ever grateful to him for. I was spacing out, and I was afraid of being alone with our baby. The nanny was a young woman who didn’t speak a word of English, and even as out of it as I was, I noticed that something was going on between them. When I confronted him, he put me in the hospital again.”
Bowen couldn’t help the growl that rose from his throat, and as Margaret looked up, she gasped. “Your eyes are glowing.”
Thankfully, he was still able to control his fangs. “It’s a light effect. Go on.”
She lowered her eyes to her hands. “I was given opioids again,” she whispered. “I had a Eureka moment, and a pattern began. As soon as I ran out, I provoked him into beating me up badly enough to get me hospitalized so I could get more. At some point, I just wished he would finish the job, and I wouldn’t wake up again.”
Bowen didn’t know what to say to that. The things she was telling him were even worse than what he’d suspected. In a way, it would have been better if she’d prostituted herself to get the drug money. It would have done less damage.
“Anyway,” she continued. “He almost did. He told me that if I didn’t get my act together, he would have me committed to a psychiatric hospital, and he would make sure that I didn’t ever see my child again. He searched the entire house and threw away every pill he could find, but I had more stashed away for an emergency. I tried to quit, but I was too weak to do it without help. When he found out, I was sure he was going to kill me. He nearly choked me to death. The baby screaming for me in the next room must have gotten through to him and he let go and stormed out of the house. The next morning, he waited for me in the kitchen with a bag that he’d packed for me. He told me to run and hide because if he found me, he was going to finish what he’d started the night before. I believed him. He wasn’t drunk, he was completely lucid, and he had murder in his eyes. Nevertheless I cried, and I begged, and I pleaded, and I promised to go to rehab, but it only got him more furious, and the things he said…”
Margaret shook her head. “I was afraid that he would hurt our daughter to punish me. He loved her as much as he hated me, but he wasn’t right in the head.” She snorted. “And neither was I. I figured out that she was better off with him and the nanny than with me, and I left. I had no money, no friends, and nowhere to go. But I still had a full packet of Percocet stashed away. I decided to end my life and took all of them at once. Someone found me passed out behind the supermarket dumpster and called an ambulance. They pumped my stomach and called him. He did his usual shtick, pretending to be the wronged husband who had to deal with a horrible, druggie wife who whored herself out—that’s how he explained the marks on my neck and the black eye he’d given me, it had been an unsatisfied client, not him. His act must have been convincing, or maybe they thought that it had been my fault, and I was sent to mandatory rehab. He came to visit once, just to deliver the same message. If I ever came anywhere near him or Wendy, even unintentionally, he was going to make sure that it was the last thing I did.”
Bowen frowned. Her daughter’s name was Wendy?
Suddenly, the pieces of the puzzle started falling into place. That was why Margaret had seemed familiar when he’d first seen her. She’d reminded him of Wendy. The big brown eyes, the smile, the face structure. But Wendy was short and plump, while Margaret was tall and slim.
Perhaps it was just a coincidence.
He didn’t know Wendy’s last name, but he could easily find out. He could call Wendy herself, but if his suspicion proved incorrect, it would upset her. He could probably get the information from Jin or from Eleanor.
“Did you change your last name?”
Margaret lifted her head. “Why do you ask?”
“I’m just curious. Your ex sounds like a dangerous scumbag. If I knew you back then, I would have advised you to get a fake identity so he could never find you. He could’ve changed his mind later and come after you.”
Bowen would have killed the scum to keep her safe and get her daughter back to her.
“That was what Emmett said when I told him my story and he got me a new identity.” She swallowed. “I never got a divorce because I never dared to contact Roger. Legally, I’m still married to him.”
“Not for long. What was your married last name?”
“Miller. But what do you mean by not for long?”
“I have friends who can take care of that,” he lied.
“How?”
“Hacking into official databases.” That might have been true, but it wasn’t how Bowen planned to end Margaret’s marriage.
He was going to make her a widow.
66
Margaret
Bowen hadn’t reacted as Margaret had expected. He hadn’t been appalled by her drug addiction and what she had done to support it, not even by her greatest sin, which was leaving her daughter behind and running away and hiding like the coward she was.
He didn’t regard her as a piece of trash, and his arms were still around her, supporting, encouraging.
Perhaps he hadn’t internalized the gravity of her cowardice yet. A man like him could never understand a spineless mouse like her. He was strong, brave, he would have fought against all odds.
Why hadn’t she?
“He might have divorced you,” Bowen said. “I don’t know much about the subject, but I’m sure no one expects a wife gone missing for eighteen years to sign divorce papers. One of my cousins is an attorney. She can check it for you.”
Margaret shook her head. “I’m afraid to do that. What if he gets notified that someone checked? He will know it was me, and it’s best that he thinks that I’m dead.”
“There are ways to do that without alerting him. My cousin is very good at what she does.”
Panic gripping her, Margaret felt her throat close up and breathing became difficult.
“What’s wrong?” Bowen looked at her with worry in his eyes.
“I can’t breathe,” she croaked, her hand going to her throat.
“Don’t be scared.” He took her clammy hand in his. “I will never let anything happen to you. You are safe. No one is going to get you.”
Slowly, his words penetrated the haze, and the tightness in her throat eased. When she sucked in a breath, Bowen released one as well.
“If you feel such acute panic after eighteen years, I can’t imagine how scared you were back then.”
“I’m still terrified. Why do you think I never left Safe Haven? When you took me to the hospital, it was the first time since my ar
rival there.”
He frowned. “I thought that you were allowed to leave for doctors’ visits and the like.”
“Theoretically, yes, but I never needed to see a specialist. We had a doctor that came twice a year to give everyone a physical, and Shirley took care of the colds and the flus and the sore throats. The furthest I’d gone away from the lodge was the beach in front of it.”
“Weren’t you curious about Wendy?”
Here it was. Now that Bowen realized the extent of her cowardice, he would despise her.
“Of course, I was. We had no access to the outside world in Safe Haven, but I begged Emmett to check for me. He said it was dangerous, that any internet inquiry can be tracked, and looking for information about a minor would trigger some safety features that would alert Roger and enable him to find me. Emmett said it wasn’t worth the risk to me and to the rest of the community. He said that Roger sounded insane, and that he might come with a machine gun and kill everyone in his path.”
As the choking sensation started again, Bowen squeezed her hand. “Emmett lied to you, Margaret. Or rather exaggerated. It’s true that everything you do on the internet can be tracked, but someone has to have a very good reason to do that, the resources, and the knowhow. Looking for information about Wendy wouldn’t have triggered any traps unless your maniacal ex was a computer expert and a master hacker or has enough money to pay for one.”
“Why would Emmett lie about that?”
“For the same reason he didn’t allow community members access to the internet or even radio and television. By controlling the information, he controlled the community.”
What he said made sense, but Emmett wouldn’t have done that to her. Or would he?