She stopped what she was doing and grabbed some toast. She set it in front of me silently and sat down. I stared at it for a minute, and then looked at her. “Not really hungry…”
“Too fucking bad. Eat it.”
I picked up a piece and chewed, my stomach protesting loudly. It was not gonna stay in long. I took a sip of coffee and grimaced. Cecilia’s coffee had always reminded me of tar, and after drinking Rabbit’s, it tasted even worse than before. I looked up and saw the expression on her face and wisely kept drinking.
The silence was deafening.
I threw the toast down.
“Just fucking tell me, Cecilia.”
“What?”
I stood up, pacing rapidly. “Tell me! He walked in and she looked at him and that was it. Right? Her memory came back and now it’s happily ever after for them. Right? RIGHT?” The last word was roared loudly.
She stared at me.
“No, Joshua. That’s not what happened at all.”
I sat back down, exhausted.
“Tell me,” I begged. “I need to know, Cecilia.”
“She didn’t remember him at all. She didn’t have exactly the most … positive reaction to him,” she said quietly.
“What happened?”
“She, ah … she threw up on him.”
I stared at her.
“Just like that?”
“Yes. He reached over and took her hand, and she threw up all over his shoes.”
I felt my lips quirk.
“Then what?”
“Rab ... Elizabeth passed out.”
My humor vanished. “Did she hurt herself?”
Cecilia shook her head. “Daniel moved really quickly and he caught her before she hit the floor.”
I stood up, instantly angry again. “Daniel caught her? What the fuck was Prince Charming doing while his wife was about to hit the floor?”
“Jumping back and cursing about his shoes,” Cecilia looked at me knowingly.
“He cursed her?” I snarled. “He was more upset over his splattered shoes than his wife, the one he begged to be returned to him?”
My mug shattered against the wall where I threw it forcefully, coffee dripping down the walls. The plate of unwanted toast followed, the plate exploding in hundreds of shards as it hit the wall.
“Joshua! Calm down!”
I swung around, my breath laboured. “Don’t tell me to calm down, Cecilia! Fuck! I made the wrong fucking decision! I never should have sent her back!”
“Joshua! Maybe he had a thing about being thrown up on! Maybe he was just so shocked, he didn’t think. You can’t immediately jump to a conclusion like that. He apologized afterwards.”
I shook my head and snorted. “He apologized? How … civil.” I looked at Cecilia intently. “She woke up here, bleeding and bruised. Scared out of her wits. She didn’t know who she was or who I was, but she allowed me to comfort her. She let me touch her, hold her.” I closed my eyes, remembering how she felt tucked up under my chin, shaking and scared. I opened my eyes and stared at Cecilia. “If she had thrown up all over me, I still would have held her and comforted her.” I drew in a painful breath. “Her husband takes her hand and she throws up and passes out? That’s not a nervous reaction, that’s her body remembering. That’s her body rejecting him.”
I sat down and grabbed my throbbing head. “I shouldn’t have sent her back, Cecilia,” I reiterated and my voice broke. “She isn’t safe.”
She looked at me shrewdly.
Silently, she reached into her bag and pulled out a folder, slamming it down on the table in front of me.
“Then stop wallowing. Do something about it.”
I sat back, my hand scrubbing my face in exhaustion. I had been through the files Cecilia brought with her again and again. Frank had been busy.
Brian was an only child. His mother having died when he was younger, he was raised by his father. Pictures of them showed their similarity: both tall men, both stern looking. Even in pictures where they were smiling, it looked forced. Brian never married, not even a serious relationship from what Frank had found out, until Rabbit. At thirty-eight, he was twelve years Rabbit’s senior; six years older than me. Brian James, on paper, seemed like a stand-up citizen. Well educated, top of his class in everything he had studied. He was active in sports all throughout his school years. He excelled in business and was currently the CEO of James Industries in Toronto. Brian was heavily into charity work, and I noticed with a grimace, heavily into making sure that fact was well-documented. He kept his PR people busy, and Frank had included many of the articles about Brian’s generosity. But aside from being a media hog, there wasn’t a hint of scandal or as much as a parking ticket in his past. Anyone doing a cursory background check on him would only see a respected, normal person.
But there was a reason Frank had the nickname, the Pit Bull. He was an inexorable Private Investigator; like a dog with a bone, he didn’t give up. He had dug deep into sealed records with his hacking skills. Incident after incident of aggressive behavior on Brian’s part was recorded, right from grade school into his first year of university, all locked and hidden away in sealed records. Bullying issues, unprovoked attacks on teammates, issues with authority figures seemed to be the pattern, which, when laid out on paper, appeared to grow worse as he grew older.
Suddenly, the first year of attending university, his records showed nothing. I frowned. There was definitely a pattern of anger issues and then suddenly nothing? Obviously, Frank found that strange as well and had dug even further into some financial records. Brian’s father had made several huge donations to the university he had attended. And one enormous one to his old high school. The donations smacked of payoffs to keep things completely off the record and to seal other, older records. I felt a shudder of fear go through me at the thought of the kind of person Rabbit was living with now. The control both Brian and his father wielded over her life.
Aggressive behavior, such as Brian displayed, didn’t just disappear. And someone like Douglas James didn’t just quietly make enormous donations without publicity. He was as much of a media hog as his son. He was hiding Brian’s escalating violence with his money. I shook my head. I wondered if he ever considered investing the money in professional help for his son rather than hiding it. Did he think behavior like this would just go away? My gut told me it didn’t. It was still there, threatening Rabbit’s safety.
I closed my eyes and took in several calming breaths. I had to keep a clear head.
I looked through all the pictures he had included in the file. No wonder I hadn’t recognized Elizabeth in the article when I had seen it. The manner in which she was dressed and presented, she looked much older, and always so solemn. In the pictures, Brian’s massive size dwarfed Elizabeth, making her look even smaller than she was.
Elizabeth. The name seemed so foreign to me when I thought of her.
Rabbit.
Yes. That was my girl.
Her file was much thinner. She came from a small town in Manitoba, moved to Toronto only a few years ago, not long after her parents, Sandra and Kevin Brady, were killed in a car accident. She married Brian less than a year later. She no longer worked, but volunteered at the same library where she ran a reading program for children and also taught illiterate adults to read. She was active on several charity boards, attended a lot of dinners and functions and was rarely ever seen without Brian beside her. Frank had found some earlier pictures of her and I stared at them with longing. They were more like the Rabbit I knew. She appeared happy, laughing. And looked younger.
I laid out three photos on the table and studied them. The change in Rabbit was dramatic. In one she looked her age, maybe even younger than her twenty-two years and happy, dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, smiling with her parents. The next was a few years later, she was twenty-five and it was taken not long after she moved to Toronto. In it she still looked younger, but sadder, more solemn, standing beside Brian. The third was
a year later. She was far thinner, her hair up, dressed in black and looking older than her years. If I had met her at one of these events, I would easily have put her in her thirties. I studied the last picture again, focusing on her expression. She wasn’t just serious. She was … blank. Her face was blank. I shook my head. While she was here her face and eyes were so expressive and I could read her so easily. My finger pushed at the third picture. I didn’t know that woman. That was not my Rabbit.
I sighed and pulled the laptop closer. I hit the play button and again watched the press conference Brian held announcing his wife’s return. It was brief and to the point and he took no questions; Elizabeth was not in attendance. He simply stated that Elizabeth had been located in a small town many miles away. She had escaped her captors and was recovering. She suffered some aftereffects of her ordeal but he was confident she would recover fully. He asked for their privacy while his wife healed. No interviews or questions would be taken. The search for her abductors was still active.
My eyes narrowed as I watched him over and over again. He played it well. Confident and aggressive, not at all nervous in front of the cameras. Almost smug. I watched the first press conference again as well. I noticed some of his confidence was lacking. Was it guilt or simply worry?
I slammed the laptop shut and stood up. I was so frustrated. My head was filled with so many questions and thoughts; none of them good. All of them led to one conclusion, and I had nothing concrete to prove it other than my instinct.
I had moved too fast. I had made the wrong decision.
He had anger issues. She was beaten. Even without a working memory, her first reaction to him had been negative and his reaction was equally as telling.
I shouldn’t have sent her back.
Rabbit wasn’t safe and I needed to make her safe.
I needed to get her back here.
Home.
With me.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Rabbit
The sky was light and I shifted in bed, pulling Joshua’s t-shirt a little closer, breathing in its fading scent. Ten days. I had been ‘home’ for ten days. And, despite the time, I still felt less at home now than I had felt almost immediately with Joshua.
I sighed and got up, realizing I had been lying there longer than I thought. Sleeping-in was not allowed here. Everything was regimented. What I ate, how I ate, how I dressed, where I went in the house. I didn’t understand how I was happy here before, and I certainly didn’t understand why Brian had wanted me back so badly. It was as if I didn’t exist. I was virtually left alone. Brian never had a conversation with me, he simply instructed me as to what he wanted. The staff rarely addressed me, aside from Mrs. Smith and she kept her distance when others were around.
Brian’s father came to the house the day after I arrived back, and I was essentially interrogated about where I had been and what I had been doing. There was certainly no welcome home being offered. I kept looking to Brian to say something, to tell his father to leave me alone, but he remained silent. By the time I was dismissed from their company, I was shaking and confused at the open hostility. It was the first time I also admitted to myself that Joshua was right to keep so many details from me. I couldn’t accidentally say something I didn’t know in the first place.
The only time I had been out in the day was to be taken to a doctor, who barely even addressed me, instead directed all his inquiries to Brian.
He performed a routine and quick exam and studied the x-rays Daniel had provided, and then, with no discussion, I was given a tetanus shot I wasn’t sure I needed. He handed a prescription to Brian, and since then a pill appeared beside my plate every morning and I was watched to make sure I took it. Brian informed me it was to help the headaches, but when I mentioned feeling rather groggy when I took it, I was told it was my imagination and there were no side effects. I started to question that, but stopped in sudden dread at the anger building on Brian’s face because I was expressing an opinion.
Even more confusing was when we attended one of the innumerable charitable functions together. I had expressed my worries about attending functions when I was still so unsure of myself, but Brian insisted I needed to be at his side, regardless of my concerns. The first night, Brian surprised me by taking my hand when we left the car, and the entire evening he rarely left my side; his arm was always around my waist, keeping me tightly against him. I noticed he rarely allowed me to speak, always stepping in to deflect away any inquiries about my ‘ordeal’ as it was referred to. I realized none of these people knew I had lost my memory and that was why Brian had grilled me over and over again about the contents of the file I had been given. When someone would approach us, he would quietly remind me who they were so I didn’t make any mistakes. To anyone watching, we seemed like a close couple, him at my side, often bending down to whisper in my ear. Only I knew the truth. When the evening was over and we were once again in the car, he always released my hand and the pretense would be over. And again I would internally question why he had ever tried to find me in the first place.
I sighed and got out of bed to get ready for the day. Tonight was yet another dinner. Today, I was meeting with my trainer to restart my exercise routine. I was, it seemed, not as fit as I should be. Monday, I would resume my volunteering duties at both the library and hospital, since Brian felt I had slacked off enough. I was actually looking forward to that, to being out of this oppressive house and with people again.
I stood looking towards my little bookcase. I had read and reread Joshua’s books so often I was sure I knew them by heart. They were the only things keeping me sane. I could see his sense of humor in some of the paragraphs and recognized his phrasing so easily now. I felt my eyes begin to burn with unshed tears. I missed him so much. His warmth, his smile and, especially his touch. He always touched me with so much love. His small white card was now a bookmark that I studied every day. I still had no idea what it meant, but I knew it was important. He wouldn’t have made sure to have Cecilia give it to me if it wasn’t. That I knew for certain.
Once again, I picked up his shirt and held it closely. I inhaled deeply and pretended to be wrapped up in his arms instead of standing here alone. An abrupt knock on the door had me scrambling to hide the shirt that was in my hands. I bent down and stuffed it under the mattress as far as I could.
Brian entered to inform me my trainer was here. I could see he wasn’t pleased that I’d not been down to breakfast. He held out my pill and I took it from him wordlessly, turned around and reached over to pick up the water from my bedside table to wash it down with. He watched as I swallowed then instructed me to meet him in the gym downstairs and left.
Once I was sure he was gone, I spat the pill out. I had stuffed it into my cheek while I was turned away getting the water, a trick I had gotten very good at. I tucked it into the drawer meaning to flush it away later, the same way I did with the others I had managed not to take. My head was definitely clearer when I didn’t take the pills. I smiled grimly. I now had three objectives for the library. One was to use the computers I would have access to in order to try and figure out what the pills were. Second was to try and find a way to contact Joshua. I didn’t belong here. That became clearer to me every day I was here. The other objective was to bring home more of Joshua’s books. I needed his words. They were all I had left.
My head ached and I was so tired. The evening was filled with yet more of Brian’s strange behavior, but for some reason he had been incredibly tense all evening. More so than usual. His hold on my hand had been too tight. His arm around my waist had been uncomfortable and all night he had been terse when speaking to me. At one point, when I was looking around the room, I saw a woman smiling in my direction. Unsure who she was, I looked over at Brian, but he was occupied with his iPhone. Not wanting him to be angry that I couldn’t address her easily if she came over, I hesitantly reached over and laid my hand on his arm and leaned closer to get his attention. He reared back as if I had spit on
him. Unnerved by his reaction, I pulled back and my elbow hit my water, only to knock it over. His hand closed over my wrist roughly, pulling my hand back from trying to right the glass as I apologized. “Leave it,” he hissed. “Stop making matters worse, Elizabeth. You’re always making matters worse!”
I sat back, stung, not understanding what I had done except to spill a little water. The glass had been almost empty. I struggled not to show my emotions. Wasn’t that what he wanted? For us to seem close when we were in public? Could I do anything right in his eyes? Intense longing rushed through me suddenly for the warmth of Joshua’s gaze, for his quiet, adoring attention. Suddenly, I felt the tight grip of Brian’s hand on my leg. “Remember your place, Elizabeth. Act properly,” he spoke lowly into my ear. I felt a shiver go through me at the menacing tone. When I looked up, his face was an icy mask of politeness as he spoke to the woman next to him. I straightened in my chair but I remained quieter than normal the rest of the evening, not wanting to provoke his seemingly growing ire.
Back at the house, I climbed the stairs quietly and headed to my room. I heard Brian walk to his den and the door slam behind him, echoing loudly in the main level. I shuddered as yet another feeling of déjà vu crept up my spine.
I undressed quickly, putting everything back in its proper place. I changed into a pair of pajama pants, and needing it as close to my body as I could get it, I went to the bed and reached in between the mattress and pulled out Joshua’s t-shirt. I pulled it on; desperately wishing it was Joshua’s arms that were draped around me, not just his shirt. A torn piece of paper fluttered to the floor and I bent down and picked it up. It looked like a torn photograph. I frowned, wondering why there was a picture stuffed between the mattresses. Curious, I reached in between the mattresses and was surprised when my fingers felt something soft. I pulled the item and held it up. Mystified, I stared at a brilliant blue piece of torn cloth. Why was this hidden? I laid it on the bed for a better look. That was when I realized how badly torn it was. It appeared to be a sleeve from a blouse. I leaned forward examining what appeared to be stains all over it. Confused, I took the material into the closet where the light was far brighter than the small lamp on the bedside table. Kneeling down, I spread the piece out on the floor and looked at it. Then I recoiled in horror. The stains were blood.
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