The Escape

by Alice Ward

  This couldn’t be the same apartment.

  The walls were a soft dove gray, all the trim repainted a brilliant white, giving the entire space an elegance and clean energy it was lacking before.

  The old sofa was gone, of course, replaced by one in a darker gray. A rainbow of colorful pillows were artfully tossed across it. A chaise lounge chair in a matching color faced it, filling up the space where a bookcase once sat.

  The most unexpected change was in the sleeping area. Where before there were two standard twin beds sitting just feet apart in the small alcove, now, there were two sleeping spaces.

  “A loft,” I breathed. “You built a loft.”

  Grant smiled big enough that his chipped tooth winked at me. “Dina did, actually.”

  I shot him a curious look. “Dina?”

  “The interior designer who works for me. She felt, and I agreed, that two women deserved their own sleeping space. With the ten-foot ceiling, Dina decided to go vertical.” He walked over to where Jasmine was already flopping on her new bed. “You won’t be able to stand up fully, but Dina assures me that it won’t matter.”

  Jasmine rolled off her bed and stood up, the new ceiling of her space narrowly missing the top of her head. “I can stand up straight.”

  At four feet ten inches tall, Jasmine fit perfectly in her space. She bounced on the full-size bed with its brilliant turquoise duvet and plethora of pillows. She tapped on a switch and was delighted when a soft light came on over her. Below the mattress was what appeared to be enough drawers to hold all her clothes — so very clever.

  “Would you like to see your space?”

  Grant had moved until he stood next to a set of winding stairs that curved up to the loft. Very slowly, I moved past him and up the narrow staircase. At the top, pleasure expressed itself with a gasp. I too had a full-size mattress sitting over several drawers. I too had a reading light as well as a shelf for my many school books. Instead of turquoise, my duvet was of a color I could only think to call paprika. Moving higher, I bent my head until I was on the bed. Then, I had more room than I could ever imagine.

  The mattress sank with my weight, the cotton of the duvet almost like silk beneath my fingers.

  Grant’s head popped up. “Will this work for you?”

  I laughed and swiped at the corner of my eye again. “It’s more than I ever imagined. It’s beautiful and private and…” I pulled a colorful pillow from the rest and held it to my chest. “It’s simply wonderful.”

  He seemed relieved. “Dina couldn’t be here for the reveal, but she wanted me to make sure you saw something.”

  Reluctant to leave my bed, I made my way back to the steps and climbed down. I turned toward a squeal and saw that Jaz had found an easel and art space that had been set up on the other side of the beds.

  My hands went to my mouth, and I was moved beyond words. He’d thought of everything. Simply everything.

  But there was more in store for me because Grant’s hand was at my back again, steering me around until I faced the kitchen area of the apartment. There were new appliances, new cabinets including a tall one that I knew was a pantry. A tall bar-top table was wedged into the corner, replacing the old Formica one from before.

  As my eyes swept over the space, that was when I saw it. On the wall between the eating table and the front door was a long picture hanging over a beautiful buffet looking cabinet that looked to contain loads of storage.

  I stepped closer to the picture, my heart squeezing harder with every step. Inside the frame, a section of Mee-maw’s sofa was matted in the same soft gray as the walls.

  “I hope this is enough to keep the memory alive,” Grant said, coming to stand beside me.

  I couldn’t talk, and even if I could have, I knew no words would have been able to convey my deepest thoughts. The tears I’d been holding back for days broke through the dam of my willpower and streamed down my cheeks.

  “The original sofa is in one of my storage buildings. If this doesn’t work, I can—”

  He sounded worried, and I knew I needed to say something to assure him that I was thrilled. It was a wonderful idea, preserving the memory while also moving on. But the words couldn’t cross all the emotion taking up residence in my throat. So I did the only thing I could… I hugged him, practically throwing my arms around his waist.

  After a few seconds, his arms came around me, and I was nestled to his powerful chest. I began to cry in earnest then, knowing as I did that I was ruining his expensive suit.

  But it was so safe here.

  The warm breath in my hair as he pressed his lips to my head. The large hands pressing me so very close.

  “What’s wrong?”

  The words were spoken so softly, so timid, I forced myself to pull it together. In a series of slow movements — I straightened, Grant’s arms fell away, I stepped back, he stepped back too — I was freed from his embrace, already missing the warmth and comfort.

  Forcing myself to laugh, I wiped at my eyes, then took the handkerchief Grant handed me to take over the chore. “These are happy tears, Jaz.” I looked up at Grant. “Very happy. Thank you.”

  He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You’re more than welcome.”

  Satisfied that I was okay, Jasmine wandered off to open the new kitchen cabinets, listing every item she found. “New plates. New cups. New forks. New pots. New…”

  The list went on and on as Grant and I gazed at each other. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Dina wanted me to point out that she used the sofa tapestry for the color inspiration of the apartment.”

  Turning to look at it again, I could see that he was right. The background of the floral was the same gray as the walls. Turquoise and paprika dotted the canvas, as did the yellows and blues that I also spotted in the pillows.

  “Please tell her it’s not just beautiful, but so very special, and that Jaz and I both adore it. I—”

  A knock sounded on the door. Frowning, I looked back at Grant, who just grinned. Moving to the door, I opened it to find the driver standing there. Disappointed that he was going to tell Grant he was late for some appointment or other, the scent of food told me something else.

  “Miss Walker.”

  At his formal nod, I stepped back and let him inside. The smell wafting from the bags he was holding caused my stomach to growl. As usual, I’d only had a protein bar for lunch, and I was starving.

  And whatever was in those bags smelled immensely better than the pizza I’d planned on ordering. Like a dog following the scent of a bone, I followed the man to our new table where he placed everything, nodded, and left. My “thank you” trailed off behind him.

  “This smells good!”

  Before I could stop her, Jasmine was digging through the bags, pulling out takeout cartons with the Ruth’s Chris logo emblazoned on the sides. My mouth fell open. I’d heard rave reviews for the steakhouse, of course, but knew it was priced far out of what I’d be willing to spend.

  “I wasn’t sure what to order, but since I know you like steak and Jasmine likes burgers, I selected a few different cuts and a variety of sides and desserts.” Was he blushing just a bit? I thought so. “I might have gone a little overboard, but I wanted to make sure you two wouldn’t be hungry.”

  As Jaz kept pulling out boxes, my eyes widened. “I think we’ll be well fed for at least a week.” Then I remembered, and my heart squeezed. “Well, since Jaz will be gone, I guess it will just be me.”

  “You’ll miss her.”

  It wasn’t a question. It was a fact.

  Tears burned as I even tried to imagine not seeing that smiling face for a full twenty-one days. I nodded.

  He cleared his throat. “Then, maybe I’ll drop by one day. Check in with you. See if you need more steak.”

  Underneath this cold façade, this man was so very, very kind.

  “I’ll be mooing soon if you keep this up.”

  “Cake!” Jazzy exclaimed. “And pie. Wow!”

&nb
sp; Grant took a step backward. “I better go. Give you some privacy.”

  He was leaving.

  “Eat with us!” Jaz yelled, opening up a box. “You just can’t have the cake or the pie. They’re mine.”

  Grant laughed.

  I laughed too. “Please, yes. Join us.”

  And to my surprise and deep pleasure, Grant nodded and took a seat at the new table he bought us, in the new looking apartment I loved.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Grant

  I didn’t remember laughing this much since I was a child. Or talking this much either.

  It wasn’t just Jasmine and her funny sense of humor. Journey was equally funny, just more quiet about it. I thought the part of her that allowed her to let loose was dampened down by some deep sadness that surrounded her.

  No. It wasn’t sadness. Not exactly. Or not only that singular emotion.

  Even though I knew from her lease agreement that she wasn’t quite twenty-four years old, she carried an air about her that made her seem much older. More experienced with the ways of the world. More leery of what it contained.

  Yet, she appeared to still be in college. Which wasn’t odd, but it did make me curious.

  “I noticed a number of text books,” I said, opening the conversation. “Are you in school?”

  A bright smile appeared upon her face. “I am. Well, I will be.” The smile faded just a bit. “I graduated earlier this month with my bachelor’s and am hoping to begin the Doctor of Physical Therapy program this fall.”

  “Hoping?”

  Journey’s eyes flicked toward her sister, who was happily munching on a fry. “Yes. And even if I don’t start then, I’ll reapply for the following year.”

  The obstacle was money. I didn’t even have to ask, I could tell. I also could tell this wasn’t a subject I needed to bring up at the moment. “Have you always been interested in physical therapy?”

  She met my eyes, those pale blue irises almost seeming to glow with her inner spirit. Even though they were incredibly beautiful, their lightness could be startling at times.

  “Yes. I’ve always been interested in how the body works, and when therapists worked with Jazzy or Mee-maw, I always asked them a million questions. Then, between therapy sessions, I would replicate the exercises.”

  I quirked a brow. “Mee-maw?”

  She laughed. “Yes. Apparently, I got Melinda and Mamaw mashed up in my mouth, and that’s the name I called my grandmother.”

  “Mee-maw died,” Jazzy said matter-of-factly. “She took care of us because our mother is…” She stuck out her tongue and shuddered, visualizing her disdain.

  I met Journey’s eyes. Her cheeks were turning pinker, but she didn’t look away. “It’s true.”

  “She didn’t even give Journey a name,” Jasmine added, dipping another French fry into a large glob of ketchup.

  Journey turned pinker and looked down at her hands.

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to talk about the past,” I told her, running my finger over my scar.

  “We don’t even know Journey’s birthday or even how old she is,” Jasmine added.

  Journey touched her sister’s arm. “Jaz. Please. This isn’t a topic for over dinner.” She looked excruciatingly embarrassed as she looked at me. “I’m sorry.”

  I retraced my scar. “Don’t be. Is it too painful for me to ask about why you don’t know your birthday?”

  Journey set down her fork and picked up a glass of water. Her gaze fell to the knot of my tie, lingering there.

  “I know my birthday,” Jasmine said, saving her sister from having to answer the question. “Well, we think it’s close to my birthday since I was still a tiny baby when Journey saved us. It’s March seventeenth. St. Patrick’s Day. Mee-maw said my eyes should have been green but they’re blue like Journey’s.”

  Even though every cell in my body wanted to know the backstory of these two women, I hesitated to ask questions that would make Journey even more uncomfortable. So instead of delving into the story, I smiled at Jasmine. “You both have beautiful eyes.” I looked back at Journey, who still looked mortified by the turn of our conversation. “Very beautiful.”

  “Journey’s birthday is Valentine’s Day because it’s the day of hearts and Mee-maw said that all cracked hearts could be fixed back together on the day of love.” She picked up her burger and licked a drop of ketchup from the side. The girl spoke of these intense subjects as if they were the most natural topics in the world.

  To her… in her innocence, maybe they were.

  To her… challenges were just a fact of life that needed to be dealt with and overcome. And once overcome, there was no shame, only celebration that we’d survived another day.

  “Valentine’s Day is a perfect choice for a birthday,” I said to the older sister, grateful when she looked at me again and smiled. I waded deeper into the emotional waters. “How did you choose your name?”

  Jasmine had stopped eating but was still holding her burger in front of her, watching her sister. Journey looked over at the tapestry hanging on the wall and exhaled. “There was no record of either mine or Jasmine’s birth.”

  “Journey named me from Aladdin because that’s the first movie we watched together when I was first born.”

  This was so confusing. The bits of pieces of what apparently was a horrendous story floated around me, refusing to fit together.

  Journey’s eyes met mine. “Please don’t feel sorry for us. We had a bad start, but we were both exceedingly lucky. I prefer to focus on the luck part rather than the bad part.”

  I traced my scar again. “Life would be better for us all if we each could view life like that.”

  Her gaze dropped to my finger. “I learned that from our grandmother. I learned everything from my grandmother. Mee-maw told me that I could allow my birth circumstances to hold me back or I could let it propel me toward my own journey.”

  “Journey.”

  She smiled. “Yes. For some reason, that was the word that stuck with me. It’s the word I claimed as my name. I was at least kindergarten or first grade age when I came to live with Mee-maw, but I’d never been taught how to read or write, I didn’t know my ABC’s or other, normal, developmental milestones. Instead of thinking of myself as stupid or different than the other kids, I decided that my journey was just different than theirs. When I got frustrated because I couldn’t read or write like other kids my age, I’d remind myself that I was on my own journey and would read or write soon enough.”

  “And you did.”

  The smile broadened. “Yes. It took a little longer, but then I became a voracious reader, and read everything.”

  Jasmine laughed. “She used to even read cereal boxes to me.”

  The adoration between the sisters was so very, very clear. “Yes. Then you started reading them to me too.”

  As frank as ever, Jasmine looked directly at me. “I only read on a third-grade level because my brain wants to forget stuff.”

  I picked up my napkin and wiped at my mouth as emotion clogged my throat for a moment. I cleared it then took a sip of water. “I guess your brain just wants plenty of room for all your funny jokes.”

  Jasmine laughed and tapped her forehead. “Yeah. My brain just knows what’s important.”

  What a smart girl.

  My attention traveled back to Journey, as it always seemed to do, and I felt a fierce level of protectiveness travel up and through me. I wanted to make these women’s lives better.

  As if she felt the intensity of my thoughts, Journey swallowed. I could hear the click of the sound in addition to the movement of her throat, and I had the sudden longing to lick up the long column of it, feel her pulse pound under my lips. What I wouldn’t give to peel that peasant blouse off her and make her forget her past. Make her forget anything but me.

  My cock pulsed as I imagined looking into those eyes while she was wrapped around me, our bodies connected as I thrust into her over and over. I imagined
how they’d darken as she came, her body exploding around my cock. I imagined the sound of her voice as she cried out my name. Imagined the softness of her lips as I kissed her down from her high.

  I placed my napkin on the table and stood. I needed to leave before my cock came fully to life and exploded from some need I couldn’t explain and understand. I didn’t like this. I didn’t like these… emotions. I didn’t like how out of control they made me feel.

  Journey stood too, but Jasmine reached for one of the other carryout bags, paying me no attention. “Are you going?” Journey asked.

  Did she look disappointed or relieved?

  “I should. I hadn’t anticipated staying this long, although I’m glad I did.”

  Her fingers twisted together. “I’m glad too.”

  I smiled down at Jasmine, who was opening a box of chocolate cake now. “Have a wonderful time at art camp.”

  She looked up at me, as if she’d just noticed I’d stood. “Are you leaving?” She looked forlorn when I nodded. “Well, thank you for my new bed, and my new couch, and my new table, and my new plates, and my new—”

  Journey laughed. “Yes, thank you for everything.”

  Jasmine laughed too, licking chocolate from her thumb as she jumped up from the table. “Yes, for everything.” She leaped at me, and I caught her in a hug. I was starting to get used to the affection… and I was going to miss it, I realized.

  Hugging her as hard and for as long as I dared, I let her go, and she went straight back to her cake, digging in, stuffing in a huge mouthful.

  Journey’s eyes widened, and I thought she was going to chastise her sister, but she took a step toward me instead. “Your jacket,” she said in a low voice, and I looked down. A chocolate smudge.

  “It’s okay. It will clean. I’ll—”

  But Journey grabbed my hand and dragged me over to the kitchen sink. She wet a paper towel and began dabbing at the smear. Even though I wanted to tell her again that it was okay and she need not worry about it, I found myself enjoying her being so close.

  After nearly a full minute went by, she raised up, still frowning. “It’s better, but—”