by R. R. Banks
She smiles again as I open the door to our car and usher her inside. Some of the tension in her shoulders eases and she starts to giggle. She looks up at me, her eyes wide and filled with wonder.
“So, does this mean we're free?” she asks. “We're finally free?”
I nod. “Looks that way,” I reply. “You won't have to spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder.”
Her giggles become outright laughter as I close the door and walk around to the driver's side. Slipping behind the wheel, I start the car.
“Thank you, Eric,” she says.
And then she leans over and kisses my cheek. The warm feel of her lips on my skin, innocent though it was, lingers. It stirs something in me that I can't place or understand. It's just – different. I don't have time to think about it though. We need to put some distance between us and the cowboys.
Putting the car in gear, I pull out of the parking lot and we head for the freeway. We head for home.
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Oh my, God,” Calee exclaims. “This is your house? You live here?”
“The house belonged to my family,” I say. “And yeah, I live here.”
We finished the last leg of our trip that morning. I'm a little stiff and sore from being behind the wheel since about sunup, but it had taken a little less time than I'd expected it to, which is a good thing. I drop my bag next to the door and the keys on the small table in the entryway.
She walks around the ground floor, her eyes wide, an awed expression on her face. I look around, trying to see what the big deal is. It's a house. My parents, although they were absolutely loaded and given to some of the trappings of the privileged – country club memberships, exotic vacations now and then – they never went in for the huge, ostentatious mansions favored by some. For the most part, my folks were pretty down to earth and relatively frugal for their income bracket.
Yeah, it's a decently-sized house – seven bedrooms, six bathrooms, three floors – but it's not enormous.
The best selling point of the house, to me, is the fact that I can open up the back doors, walk the five feet, and have my toes in the sand of the Pacific Ocean. As a kid, I spent more time on that beach than I can even remember. I love the ocean. It calms and soothes me like little else in this world.
I walk her around through the great room, the dining room, and even the kitchen. She takes it all in like she's looking at a museum or some high-quality piece of art. Done mostly in dark woods and earthy tones, it's nicely decorated, I'll admit that.
“This place is amazing,” she says.
I shrug. “It's okay, yeah,” I say. “It's home.”
“I – I've never seen a house this nice before,” she says, her voice still tinged with awe. “Let alone, set foot in one.”
“Well, I suppose now you're going to have to get used to living in one,” I say.
She turns to me, eyes wide. “A – are you kidding me?”
I laugh out loud. “Where did you think you were going to be living?”
She suddenly draws inward a little and the light in her face begins to dim. I don't have to be a psychic to know what's going through her mind. It hadn't gone particularly well the last time she lived with a man and I'm reasonably sure she's remembering all of that.
“Don't worry,” I say. “The house is big enough that we can go for days without seeing each other. The entire third floor hasn't been used in – I don't even know how long, to be honest. It's yours. The whole floor. After my mom had a stroke, they did a little remodeling and that's where her live-in nurse stayed, so there's a small kitchen, bathroom, and outdoor deck up there. It should be comfortable enough for you.”
Calee looks up at me and the light in her eyes begins to shine again. The smile creeps back across her face and she quickly clamps her hands over her mouth.
“I don't even know what to say,” she says. “Or tell you how grateful I am.”
“You don't need to,” I say and shrug. “And besides, it might be nice to have some company in the house sometimes.”
She looks through the great room to the floor-to-ceiling windows that give us a view of the ocean. I didn't think her smile could grow any wider or the light in her eyes could shine any brighter, but they do. She stares at the view in silence for a few moments, absorbing it.
“Is that the ocean?” she finally asks.
“Beautiful, isn't it?”
“I never thought I'd actually see it,” she says, her voice soft. “I mean, I dreamed about it. Wanted to. But never thought I'd actually get to see it.”
“Well, how about we go and touch it?”
She looks at me, the expression on her face that of a child on Christmas morning. “C – can we?”
I nod and smile. “Of course, we can.”
I take her hand and lead her through the great room, then unlock the back doors, slide them open, and we're both immediately treated to a flood of sensory sensation. The cool ocean breeze, tinged with the smell and taste of salt, rushes in. The sound of the waves crashing and the plaintive cries of the seagulls overhead fill the room.
We stand for a moment, just taking it in. I look at Calee and see her eyes sparkling, the expression of awe and wonder on her face are priceless. Bending down, I take off my shoes and roll up my pant legs.
“You might want to take your boots off too,” I say. “You want the full beach experience, don't you?”
She giggles and quickly strips her boots off, rolling her pants up like I had. With that done, I take her hand again and lead her down the short flight of steps and to the back gate. Holding it open, I escort her through and then we're on the sand, walking down to the edge of the sea.
“Nothing like the feeling of sand between your toes, huh?” I say.
“It's so soft,” she says. “I never imagined it would be so soft.”
The day is warm, but not unpleasantly so. There's a breeze coming off the ocean that keeps the temperature down. I let go of her hand and watch Calee shuffling through the sand, awed by the feel of it on her feet. There's a soft slope leading down to the water's edge and I sit myself down on it as Calee heads for the water.
She approaches is slowly, almost as if she's afraid of it. A small wave crashes, sending a rush of foamy water up the sand. I laugh as she squeals when the water hits her feet, washing up around her ankles. Calee turns to me, smiling and laughing, the breeze blowing through her long, dark hair, and the sun almost making her porcelain colored skin glow – and I don't know that I've ever seen a more beautiful sight.
Shaking my head, I try to banish the thought from my mind. I chastise myself for even having allowed that thought to pop into my brain. I remind myself why she's here – and what she escaped from. The last thing she needs is for somebody like me to start coming on to her.
The train of thought though, stops me in my tracks. Coming on to her? The most beautiful thing I've ever seen? Where did those thoughts even come from? Yeah, she was an attractive girl, but that's not why I brought her out here. That's not why I've been helping her. She'd looked so lost and empty the first time I laid eyes on her, and that's what compelled me. That's what drew me to her.
I've been helping her because she needed help and it was the right thing to do. No more and no less. And yet, there I am, acting like an idiot with a crush.
I push all those thoughts out of my head and lock them down. The last thing she needs – hell, the last thing I need – is to let those ridiculous feelings I shouldn't even be having to begin with, run rampant. Left unchecked, just like any disease, they can spread, multiply, and become unmanageable.
Calee bounds up the short slope to where I'm sitting, her face absolutely radiant.
“You should do that more often,” I say.
“What's that?”
“Smile,” I reply. “It really makes you glow. It looks good on you.”
I see her cheeks flare with color and she looks away before seemingly forcing her eyes back to mine.
>
“Well, it seems like I have a lot more reason to now,” she says. “This is amazing, Eric. The water is so cool and the sand is so soft – this is like heaven.”
I laugh and nod. “I've always been partial to the ocean too,” I say. “My folks always had a hard time getting me out of the water.”
She cocks her head. “Where are your folks?”
“Passed away a few years back,” I say. “My mom didn't end up living very long after her stroke. Dad went not all that long after her.”
Her face falls and is creased with sadness. “I'm sorry,” she says. “I didn't know.”
I give her a warm smile. “How could you have known?” I reply. “And it's okay. It was a while ago. Time heals all wounds and all that.”
There's an awkward moment of silence between us, the air saturated with the taste of salt and the sound of the waves thundering as they break. It's been a long, but good day and the last thing I want is for the mood to grow somber.
“So?” I ask. “What do you think? Think you can handle living here?”
She looks at the house beyond me and then turns and stares at the ocean behind her – her face automatically lighting up again.
“This place is magical,” she says. “I think I can be very happy here.”
“Good to hear,” I say. “How about this? Why don't we go get cleaned up, get a little bit of rest – give you some time to check out your new digs – and we'll meet back up for some dinner in a little while?”
“I – I'd like that.”
“Good, it's settled then,” I say. “Let's head back up to the house.”
We walk back to the house, using the outdoor shower – which charmingly enough, seems to delight her – to wash off our feet. After that, I show her upstairs and leave her to it. I walk back downstairs to my office and make a few calls before I head to my room to shower and sack out for a couple of hours.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Calee
I've been standing in this room – my room – for the last ten minutes and still can't believe my eyes. It's not only gorgeous, it's enormous. There's a huge bed that looks like the softest, most comfortable thing I've ever seen. A desk, tall dresser, a table with a mirror mounted on it, and a few large, deep, plush chairs.
The bathroom is simply luxurious and decadent. When I finally tear my eyes away from the bedroom, I step into the bathroom and marvel. There's a walk-in shower that has a bench inside of it. There's no doors and the shower head flows like a gentle waterfall.
After stripping down, I let myself soak in the warm water, letting it flow down over me, feeling more like a massage than a shower, really. It's amazing and for a moment, as I think back on the last few crazy days, I don't feel like who I am – I feel like a fairy tale princess.
This whole thing with Eric seems like a dream – one I'm bound to wake up from at any moment. I cling to it though. I cling hard and don't want to let it go. For the first time in my life, I have hope for a better future for myself. I don't know what that is going to include or anything right now, but Eric said he'd help me get on my feet and do whatever I want to do with my life.
There's a small part of my mind that whispers to me though. It whispers dark and hateful words. It reminds me that nobody is this good. This kind. That everybody will take advantage of me given the opportunity. It tells me that Eric is going to be expecting something for everything he's doing for me. And it asks me if I'm willing to pay the price when that bill comes due.
I do my best to shut that voice out of my head. I tell it that it has no place anymore. Those are Raymond's words. Raymond's thoughts. That's all part of his programming. His way of making sure I was reliant on him and him alone. He tried to make me believe that he was the only man I could ever count on. The only man who would never take advantage of me or expect something in return for his kindness and favors. He tried to convince me that I can't trust any other man but him.
And for a while, I believed him.
But Danny and now Eric are showing me how wrong that thinking was and is. Danny helped me because he cared about me. Eric is helping me because he feels compelled to and thinks it's the right thing to do. Neither expected anything from me in return. They certainly never tried to take advantage of me. The only man to ever do that was Raymond.
But, now I'm free of him. Forever. I'm free to be who I want to be. To build the kind of life I want to build.
Stepping out of the shower, I towel off and find some shorts and a t-shirt right were Eric said I'd find them. They're a little big on me, but since I'm only going to be taking a nap in them, it doesn't really matter.
But then I look at the pile of clothes on the edge of the bed and start to worry. Eric said he wanted to take me to dinner, but those are the only clothes I have. He obviously comes from money and I know that people with money tend to go to nice places. The clothes I have won't blend into a nice place.
Walking over, I pick them up and give the shirt a sniff. Having been in these clothes the last few days, I'm not surprised to find it smelling pretty ripe. I sigh and drop the shirt back down onto the pile with my jeans and socks. I look at the shower and wonder if I can give them a quick wash to at least, get the musty smell out. But if I wash them, they definitely won't have time to dry – it's not as hot here as it gets in Wyoming. And besides, I see no clothesline to hang them on anyway.
I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh. I guess I'll just have to deal with it when it comes up later. Maybe we can just go to a McDonald's or something – some place he might not be so embarrassed to be seen with me.
I lay back on the bed and feel myself almost swallowed up by the softness of the mattress. I giggle to myself as I roll around a little bit, relishing the feel of it. It's so soft and luxurious, I almost feel like I'm floating on a cloud.
Resting my head on pillows as soft and comfortable as the mattress, I think back and feel an overpowering sense of awe that I'm here. And an overwhelming sense of gratitude. Eric is my savior and I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay him.
I gently lay my hand on my belly – a belly that is going to look quite different, quite soon – and feel the tears well in my eyes. But this time, they're not tears of fear or sadness. They're tears of pure, unadulterated joy.
Eric saved not just my life, but the life of the child within me.
~ooo000ooo~
I wake up to the sound of gentle knocking on the bedroom door and immediately, my pulse quickens and adrenaline floods my body. My first thought is that Raymond's found me. That he's standing on the other side of that door, waiting to drag me back to the Ark where he's going to kill me.
“Calee, you awake?”
I let out a long breath of relief when I hear Eric's voice from the other side of the door.
“I – I'm awake.”
I look to the window and see that darkness has fallen outside. Without a watch on, I have no idea what time it is. I stifle a yawn and stretch as I stand up and turn a light on before I walk to the door. I open it and find Eric standing there, smiling at me. He looks me up and down before quickly averting his eyes and clearing his throat.
“You hungry?” he asks.
As if on cue, my stomach growls like it hasn't eaten in days – which isn't true, since we'd had breakfast at a roadside diner this morning.
“Actually,” I say. “I am.”
“Excellent,” he says. “Because I have reservations for us at my favorite little Italian place. I thought we should start your culinary education with something that's already tried and true.”
As he speaks, I feel my heart sink when I remember the situation with my clothes.
“Eric,” I say, “I – I don't have a change of clothes, so maybe we –”
“Already thought of that,” he says, the smile returning to his face. “Would you step out here with me, please?”
On the top floor, there's a small sitting room with doors that open to a deck that overlooks the ocean. I already know that
's going to be my favorite place in this house. The idea of sitting there, letting the breeze and the smell of the ocean wash over me – it's still as amazing as it is unbelievable to me.
And that's where Eric leads me. On the tables and chairs of the sitting room are a large number of boxes and bags, most of them bearing the name Jasmine's of San Diego. I'm confused by what I'm seeing and look up at him with a perplexed expression on my face.
“I know you're out of fresh clothes,” he says, “So, I took the liberty of having my personal shopper pick some things up for you. I hope you don't mind. But Monica has been shopping for me for a few years now and her taste is impeccable.”
“Your – personal shopper?” I ask, my eyebrows raised.
He nods. “Yeah.”
“What's a personal shopper?”
He smiles and looks a little abashed as he looks away from me. “Sorry,” he says. “Monica does my clothes shopping for me. Gets my suits tailored, picks out new outfits for me – that sort of thing. I had to guess at your size, so if something doesn't fit, we can exchange it.”
It's a concept that leaves me feeling a little dumbfounded. “So, you actually pay somebody to go out and – shop for your clothing?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Saves me a lot of time. Besides, I don't like shopping anyway. If it were left up to me, I'd probably wear jeans and a t-shirt everywhere. But given what I do and the functions I'm expected to attend, jeans and a t-shirt won't cut it. Which is why I gladly pay Monica to shop for my clothing. The less I have to think about it, the better.”
I sit down on the edge of a chair – the only one not burdened with packages. I look at the mountain of bags and boxes around me, not believing that all of this is for me. For so long, I had two shapeless gray dresses – and that's it. That's what I'm used to. I honestly don't even know where to begin with all of this.
“I think she was excited that she got to shop for a woman this time,” Eric laughs. “She may have gone a little overboard. But, I can assure you that everything is tasteful and stylish.”