Redemption (Desire Never Dies)

by Clara Grace Walker

  “Perfect, Ryan. That’s very good.”

  He gave her a slight bow before exiting the room. It wasn’t until after he’d left that she realized she hadn’t asked him why he’d come in the first place. Not good, she thought. She was letting fear affect her judgment. Even the people at The Weather Channel didn’t think there was any chance Phoebe would turn into a real hurricane. She needed to take her own advice and stay focused on her mission. She had a date with destiny, and she wasn’t going to let it get sidetracked by some stupid storm hundreds of miles away.

  Chapter 37

  By the end of the evening meal, Shirley had put Tropical Storm Phoebe out of her mind, and resumed thinking of Earl. Fate had presented her with a unique challenge, trying to pry Mindy out of his life, while keeping him at CRC. To that end, she sat at her desk, facing opposite Belinda. “I’m worried about Mindy.” She said the words slowly, watching Belinda’s face react as she spoke. Not surprisingly, the woman’s brow furrowed, her eyes a mixture of puzzlement and concern.

  Belinda patted the bun on top of her head. “Have I missed something during the therapy sessions?”

  “You’re working very hard at getting her to open up,” Shirley assured her. “And certainly, there’s plenty of work to be done before Miss LePage will be ready to re-enter the world. But what I’m particularly concerned about is her relationship with Vince Allan.”

  Once more, questions knitted Belinda’s brow. “I’ve brought Mindy up to Vince three times already and he’s adamant about being done with her unless she gets clean. And I don’t think that’s going to happen before Vince is ready to leave.”

  Shirley frowned. “I’ve heard.” She’d heard and she didn’t like it. The more CRC staff talked to him about re-programming his life, the more determined he became to cut Mindy out of it. Her training was having exactly the opposite effect on him than what she’d intended. “Since we’re striking out with Vince, we need to look more closely at Mindy’s relationship with Earl.”

  Belinda frowned. “You don’t think he’s good for her?”

  “I think he could be wonderful for her; if only he could conquer his own issues first.” Shirley had thought long and hard about this, and getting Earl firmly under her control appeared to be the answer.

  “You think Mr. Grayson has issues?”

  “I doubt Mr. Grayson’s lifestyle is compatible with the CRC program. And it’s really a shame, too. I suspect we could help Earl and Mindy both, if only we could get Earl to adopt our lifestyle. We don’t want Mindy’s therapy to unravel once she’s discharged from our protective care.”

  Shirley watched with satisfaction as Belinda nodded in agreement, Belinda had accepted that CRC patients were best coupled with other CRC patients. To Shirley, that much had always seemed obvious, much the way people tended to marry within their own religion.

  “I should bring this up with Mindy during therapy,” Belinda said. “Her significant other and her friends in general should all be in sync with her new lifestyle.”

  Shirley smiled, clasping her hands together. “I knew I could count on you, Belinda. Have the intake staff ready to welcome Mr. Grayson once we’ve convinced him to check in.”

  As soon as Belinda left, she pulled out a check-in form she had already forged Earl Grayson’s name on. She didn’t want to keep him here by force. She wanted him to come to her freely and out of love. But if he left her no other option, she was prepared to take any steps necessary. He had a week to come to his senses. And if he didn’t sign himself in voluntarily, well, she’d make the choice for him.

  Chapter 38

  Night failed to bring sleep, and Mindy spent most of it awake, reliving every moment of her time with Earl. Not the awkward time during visiting hour, filled with meaningless conversation, but the visit that preceded it. The one where they’d made love. If she closed her eyes she could almost feel his facial hair grazing her lips, her neck and her shoulders. She tingled in all those intimate places that had brought her such delight. But thoughts of Earl were always bittersweet. And along with memories of pleasure, came memories of pain. The pain of knowing an act that could be so pure and beautiful with one person could be so vile and ugly with another. And as always, memories of vile and ugly led to memories of her son. And a pain all its own. She wished she could remember her son, and the joy of being with Earl, without remembering Frank, and the loss of the tiny human who had grown inside her. But the memories fused together and she could not separate one from the other. So she lay fitfully, tossing and turning, wishing for some selective form of amnesia that would bring her the peace no amount of alcohol ever could.

  Finally, she gave up hope of sleep and turned her thoughts to CRC, and the horrible deeds buried out in the woods. She thought of Regina Mance; the girl who most probably had not killed herself. She wanted to find justice for her. And to do that, she needed to find out about Regina’s stay at CRC, without creating suspicion. Rory was the only one working at CRC whom she actually trusted. His concern over her nightmares, which had seemed normal to her after she’d told him about the first one, stood out now as unusual. She sensed he wasn’t quite as sold on the CRC baloney as everyone else. By the time morning rose, she’d decided to try her luck with questioning him. She caught him in the hallway, on her way to Belinda’s office.

  “You’ve been really nice to me about the nightmares,” she said, strolling alongside him. In her head, she heard the theme to The Pink Panther and hoped that wasn’t a sign she was about to bungle things. “I want you to know how much I appreciate your favors.”

  Rory never bothered to look at her. He ran his fingers through his buzz-cut and gave a quick toss of his shoulder. “It’s no problem. Besides, it’s not like you’re the only person here who’s ever had nightmares.”

  “Really?” The news stunned her. “Who else has had them?”

  “Some girl named Regina had them before she died, and a couple of other people before that, but they’re public figures, so I can’t tell you their names.”

  A tingle of excitement seeped in with shock. She hadn’t even had to bring up Regina. “Oh, I understand.” She nodded. “And I really appreciate that you respect the privacy of public figures.”

  He smiled. “I knew you would.”

  The day was hot already. And not a cloud in the sky. Perspiration beaded at her hairline. If she were home, it would be warm, but pleasantly so, not the humid, muggy kind of heat that clung to Key Largo. She wiped a trail of perspiration from her face and slowed her pace, trying to sound casual. “So what about the Regina girl? Since she’s not a public figure, maybe you could tell me about her nightmares? What were hers like?”

  “The same kind you had.” Rory held no hint of suspicion in his voice, just calm acceptance. “Belinda says dreams of demons or scary faces are common in people who haven’t dealt productively with their guilt.”

  “I see.” She hoped she sounded convincing. The Pink Panther theme continued playing in her thoughts. “Did Ryan think she was trying to get attention, too?”

  Rory scowled, drawing in a breath. He knew something, Mindy thought, but he didn’t want to tell her. And she couldn’t figure out why. It seemed like a more innocent question than trying to drag details of Regina’s nightmare out of him. “What is it?” she asked. “Or is it just me that Ryan thinks is a drama queen?”

  “I’m pretty sure Ryan thinks most of the women here are drama queens,” Rory said. “It’s just, I think Ryan was a bit pre-occupied when Regina was here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Rory paused, checked the corridor, which remained empty, and leaned in close. “Don’t say anything, because Shirley would fire me if she ever found out I knew about this, but the night Regina killed herself, I saw Ryan breaking into the clinic. I think that’s why he wasn’t around to check in on her.”

  A sick feeling wound itself through Mindy, starting in her gut, and ending in her pounding heart. This was dangerous information. More dangerous, she
’d bet, than Rory suspected. Trying hard to keep her voice under control, she asked, “Why do you suppose he was doing that?”

  Rory rolled his eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? The guy’s developed a drug addiction. I’ve been wanting to tell Shirley, but honestly, Ryan kind of scares me. I don’t think he’s someone you want to mess with.”

  “Drug addiction?” She thought about the pills Regina had supposedly used to kill herself, and how she had supposedly stolen them from the clinic. Why couldn’t Rory connect the dots?

  Rory blinked in response, looking at her like she was stupid. “Belinda says addicts sometimes replace one addiction with another. I think Ryan went from beating up women to popping pills.”

  “Oh.” She wished she could think of something to say to turn the conversation back to Regina, but Nick had been clear. Don’t ask too many questions. Be discreet. She supposed she’d found out quite a bit already. “Don’t worry,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone what you told me. I think you’re right about Ryan. He scares me, too.”

  Chapter 39

  Mindy arrived at group therapy happy and smiling, and it pissed Darla off. She’d caught the way Rory looked at Mindy, stealing glances in the cafeteria, or whenever he passed her in the hall. And he went with her to the pool every single day. Rory liked Mindy. It was so damn obvious. And if Mindy’s giddy appearance was any clue, she liked him back. So much for trying to get back together with Earl or Vince.

  It was unbelievable. Really. Mindy had everything. Everything. It wasn’t fair.

  Ironically, they were barely a month apart in age. She’d been born August 12th, Mindy, September 16th. But their lives couldn’t have started off more differently. Darla had been born into wealth and privilege. Mindy had greeted the world in a trailer park. She, literally, was trailer trash.

  Darla had read voraciously about Mindy’s meteoric rise to pop stardom when they were seventeen. At the time, she had really identified with Mindy. Probably because they were the same age, Darla guessed. At seventeen, she had stood in front of her bedroom mirror singing her heart out to all of Mindy’s songs, imagining that stardom was just around the corner for her, too. After all, if a girl from a trailer park could achieve it, becoming famous should be easy for the daughter of a publishing magnate.

  In her seventeen-year-old fantasy, Darla would eclipse the fame and fortune of Mindy and finally escape the attentions of her sex-crazed father. But ten demo tracks and zero interest later, Darla had given up the dream. The world, it seemed, didn’t care who her father was, and the only kind of fame she seemed destined to claim was the variety brought about by accident of birth and the release of sex tapes to the internet.

  It had taken her father’s taste for underage girls coming to light for Darla to be free of him and gain attention for something other than being naked in cyberspace. By then she no longer thought about being a famous singer. She just thought about how much she hated Mindy LePage for having the life she had dreamed about.

  Then, of course, there had been Vince Allan. Darla had really liked Vince, and Vince brought her into contact with the pop star life she had once longed for. But after a brief fling Vince had dropped her to take up with Mindy. Of all people. Mindy, who had the life Darla wanted. And then had the boyfriend Darla wanted.

  When Mindy had dropped Vince for Earl, Darla felt a small measure of justice. But two years later, Earl had dumped Mindy and Mindy had gone back to Vince. And Darla watched her own life head into oblivion, thinking she was going to die a nobody, famous only for a few sex tapes and being the victim of her psycho father. She had Rod, of course. But Rod’s past was more checkered than her own. Not only was he sinking into oblivion even faster than she, he welcomed the nothingness. Embraced Nobodysville like it was a gift from Heaven. And expected her to be content with it.

  Now Mindy was here. And so was Vince, who had already declared he would take her back if she got cleaned up. And he sure as hell hadn’t paid Darla any attention since his arrival. Most of the time he acted like he didn’t even know her, despite having spent three weeks sleeping with her. The only acknowledgment he’d given to their past had been the single, lame-ass muttered sentiment, ‘Hey, no hard feelings about the past, huh?’

  Sure, Vince. No hard feelings at all.

  He was such an ass.

  And if that weren’t enough, Mindy had Earl hanging around like some lovesick puppy, too. And now one of the staff members was fawning over her. Eclipsing Darla once again. What bullshit.

  She didn’t get it either. What the hell did all these men see in her?

  Darla knew one thing for sure though; if Mindy liked Rory and Rory liked Mindy, then she would do her best to screw it up. And she knew exactly how to do it. Years of bulimic weight watching had given her the ability to throw up at will, and Rory was the only CRC staff member, aside from Belinda, present.

  Leaning over in her chair, pressing gently on her stomach and opening her mouth until saliva fell freely from her mouth, it took less than thirty seconds for the contents of her stomach to empty, splattering onto the floor with unexpected force. The stench and taste were horrid, but well worth the effort.

  “Oh! Gross!” Astrid, the trophy wife, exclaimed.

  Mindy rolled her eyes in Darla’s direction. “What? You couldn’t make it to the bathroom?”

  Darla wiped the back of her mouth with her hand. God, she needed some mouthwash. The taste of vomit was definitely the downside of bulimia. She puckered her lips, summoning a single tear to her eye. “I am so sorry, Belinda. I’m not feeling well. Could someone please take me to my room to lie down?”

  “Of course.” Belinda nearly jumped from her cushioned easy chair. “Rory, can you please escort Darla to her room? And the rest of you, where is your compassion? This is not how we treat a fellow CRC member in need.”

  It was all Darla could do to keep from laughing. Not only was she about to get some quality alone time with Rory, but Mindy was getting chastised, too. How perfect. Shuffling through the door Rory held open for her, she kept a somber look on her face. Moaning slightly, she held her stomach as they made their way toward her room.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Rory asked.

  “I think so.” She spoke weakly, looking up at him with her most pathetic stare. “I’m sure brushing my teeth and lying down for a minute will help.”

  “That always helps me when I don’t feel well,” he agreed.

  By the time they reached the door to her room, she walked close enough to him to feel the warmth of his body radiating outward. Anticipation licked at her. Sex with Rod had been practically non-existent in the months leading up to her rehab stint, and she missed it. Longed to feel the hard muscles of a man planed against her. Rory wasn’t bad-looking either. He had a large, muscular body and surfer-boy looks that would be hot if he grew his hair out like Vince’s.

  As soon as he opened the door to let her in, she brushed against him, walked halfway to the bathroom, then paused to make sure he’d followed her in and closed the door behind him. He had. Moving quickly, she grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and brushed her teeth in about twenty seconds, followed by a swig of mouthwash. Spitting it in the sink, she splashed water into her mouth, cutting the antiseptic taste and making sure to splash the front of her dress. She’d left the bathroom door open so he could witness the splashing.

  Looking his way, she smiled. “That tastes so much better,” she said.

  He grinned. “I’ll bet.”

  “Darn,” she said, and pulled the dress off over her head before Rory could react or look away. “I seem to be wet.” And as he was still staring, she quickly unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor. “Looks like I’m going to have to find something clean to wear.”

  “I…uh…do you…need me to help you?” he stammered.

  “I certainly do.” This time she stepped out of her panties, the non-sexy, white cotton pair provided by the CRC staff. Watching his eyes follow her every movement as she walked towa
rd him, she fondled her breasts; slowly, making sure he never took his eyes off her. “I could really use some human contact, Rory. And you’re the only person in this entire place who seems to care about anyone besides himself.”

  “Well, I do. Sure. But….” He looked toward the door, but only for a moment before his gaze riveted back to her.

  Darla knew she was beautiful. Even Nick Beck hadn’t denied her that compliment four years ago when he’d rejected her advances. Her skin was smooth and unblemished. Her waist small. Her stomach toned. Her breasts not badly sized and still firm. Once she reached Rory and cupped his bulging manhood, it was a foregone conclusion he would be hers.

  He answered her touch with a hungry, forceful kiss. One that sucked her breath away. “Man,” he said. “I haven’t gotten laid since I stepped foot inside this place eight months ago.” Going back to kissing her, he picked her up and tossed her on the bed, scrambling out of his clothes about as quickly as a junkie reaching for another line of coke.

  Not minding his eagerness, she laid down, spreading open her legs, not caring that he barely kissed her again before dragging his mouth to her breasts and thrusting himself inside her.

  She closed her eyes, while Rory rocked back and forth inside her, imagining the look on Mindy’s face when the little bitch found out Darla had taken Rory from her. It filled her with satisfaction.

  Chapter 40

  Carlita’s words broke Earl’s heart. Listening to her sob on the other end of the line, his emotions jumped between sorrow and sympathy.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Grayson. I don’t know how Pretzel slipped his collar and got out of the yard. I should have noticed. I should have gotten to him in time.”