by T. L. Haddix
“Unless they hid behind the garage.”
Shaking her head, she went on in the house and locked the door. She chalked the sound up to a possum or the wind. Regardless, she double-checked all the doors and windows and made sure the blinds were closed extra tight.
“No sense in not taking a little extra precaution,” she told Chloe. And as much as she really didn’t think she had anything to worry about from someone outside the home, she double-checked her gun to make sure it was loaded and ready to go if need be—just in case.
CHAPTER 7
THANKS TO HER PHYSICAL THERAPY appointment running later than she’d expected, Stacy didn’t get a chance to stop and grab a bite to eat until almost one o’clock Monday afternoon. She’d been downtown and decided to swing by The Brown Bag. She was almost finished when Lauren Clark, one of the cafe’s owners, stopped by her table with her infant daughter, Katy, on her hip.
“Hey, stranger. I haven’t seen you in a while. How are you?”
“Doing well.” Lauren’s happiness was obvious, as she was practically glowing with radiance. “How about you?”
“Staying busy. Katy’s getting so big. Is she walking yet?” Stacy reached out a gentle hand to the little girl, who patted it and babbled a greeting.
“Almost. So are you heading back to the courthouse, or do you have a few minutes?”
Stacy cleaned up the debris from her meal and pushed aside her tray. “I’m on vacation the next couple of weeks, actually. Why?”
Lauren’s gaze was speculative. “I’d like to discuss something with you. Would you mind coming upstairs?”
“No, not at all. Is everything okay?” Stacy stood, picking up her tray. She followed Lauren to the kitchen, dropping the tray at one of the return receptacles on the way.
“Yes, I think so. I just wanted to run something by you.”
Once they were in the office, Lauren put Katy in the playpen set up in the middle of the room. “Close the door, if you don’t mind.”
After doing so, Stacy watched as Lauren nervously smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Are you sure things are okay?”
Lauren smiled down at Katy, then her gaze rested on Stacy. “I’m a little nervous. I don’t know how to approach this subject with you, but I don’t—I can’t not say something. Pull up a chair?” She indicated one of the comfortable-looking chairs in front of her desk.
Stacy sat. “Okay. Sometimes, the best way to say something is to simply blurt it out.”
“Yes, well… You know how life is in small towns. You hear things, especially certain kinds of things.” She hesitated, and Stacy gestured for her to continue. Lauren sighed. “I heard about the thing with Maxi Cristos. And I wanted to ask if you’re okay.”
Stacy was stunned. She knew people would talk about the confrontation, but she hadn’t expected Lauren to say anything.
Lauren hurried to explain. “It’s just that I know you, and I know how reserved you are. I can’t help but wonder if that reserve comes from something like what happened to me when I was a teenager. So I couldn’t sit back and not say anything. And I hope I haven’t offended you by bringing this up.”
When Lauren was sixteen, a family member had attempted to rape her. Even though he hadn’t succeeded, the attack had left deep mental wounds, scars that Stacy doubted would ever heal.
“No.” Stacy shook her head. “I’m not offended. I wasn’t expecting this, that’s all.” She looked at Katy, who was standing up, holding on to the top of the playpen with one hand. “I’m… Well, I’m touched, to be honest. It can’t have been easy for you to bring this up.”
Lauren sat down on the floor next to the playpen and smoothed a hand over Katy’s curls. “It isn’t easy, but it was something I needed to do. I like you. I think you’re good people, and I could have spit nails when I heard what happened.”
“Is everyone talking about it?”
“It’s a small town…”
Stacy grimaced. “That means yes. It was bound to happen, I suppose.” She debated how to answer Lauren’s questions. “Without going into details, which I don’t think either of us is up for, yes. Something very similar happened to me. I was seventeen, and the scars… They don’t seem to fade.”
Lauren closed her eyes briefly. “I’m so sorry. Damn, I was hoping I was wrong.”
“What can you do? It happened, and more than ten years ago now. It helped shape me, make me who I am.” Stacy had no intention of telling her exactly how bad it had been.
“I’m sure it did. Have you had counseling?”
“Oh, yes. Years of it. And it helped. I don’t have a panic attack every time someone touches me or brushes up against me, which is very helpful in my line of work,” she told Lauren sardonically. Katy threw a toy over the side of the pen, and Stacy picked it up. She handed it back to the baby with a smile, but her tone was serious as she continued. “I’ve thought about asking you some questions, but I didn’t want to bother you. I didn’t want to bring back bad memories.”
“Sweetie, you ask me whatever you want. Don’t ever hesitate. You helped me so much a few years ago. I’ll never be able to repay you.”
“Now you’re being maudlin,” Stacy chided gently. “I didn’t do nearly as much as you’re making me out to have.”
Lauren’s expression told Stacy that the other woman didn’t buy that for a minute. “Regardless. What do you want to know?”
The toy landed at her feet again, and Stacy made a show of hugging it, then returned it to Katy. “How do you get past… When you met Charlie, how did you let him… How were you able to trust him? Physically, I mean?”
Lauren didn’t answer for a minute. “He was different. From the get-go, he wasn’t like the other men I’d gone out with or even my first husband. He made me feel safe, not threatened. And it bothered him, what had happened to me. I know that. But it didn’t define me in his eyes. Does that make sense?”
“I think so.”
“Good. And I guess when he didn’t treat me like a victim, I was able to see myself through his eyes. When that happened, I was finally able to forgive myself for what went on all those years ago. It’s ridiculous, going through something like what we went through and carrying all the guilt and blame while the person who did it walks away scot-free.” Lauren shook her head. “From what I’ve heard and read, that’s not uncommon, though.”
“It isn’t,” Stacy confirmed. “I’ve encountered more than a few women through the years—men, too, for that matter—who’ve been assaulted. Self-flagellation is a very common denominator. And even though I know intellectually to not blame the victim, I can’t seem to apply that logic to myself.”
“You will be able to, I think.” Lauren’s smile was soft. “When you find a man you can trust, both emotionally and physically, it’s so different. My first marriage was a disaster. David’s a great man, and from all accounts, he and his second wife are blissfully happy. He’s a great father to Ava,” she said, referring to her daughter with David, “and he and Charlie have even become friendly. But he was completely wrong for me, and I for him. What we had doesn’t even come close to what I have with Charlie. And I knew that from the first time Charlie touched me, even to hold my hand. I didn’t want to pull away. Let me tell you, that freaked me out a little.”
Stacy felt herself flush. “I, um, that’s kind of how I feel about Gordon. I can’t believe I said that.”
Lauren grinned at her. “I’m very glad to hear you say that. You know we’ve all been wanting to pair the two of you up for months now.”
“I know.”
“In all seriousness, from what I’ve seen of him, he’s a good man. So have the two of you gone out or anything? Touched? Kissed? Forgive my nosiness.”
Stacy laughed. “You’re fine. It’s actually something of a relief to have someone to talk to about this, someone who has been through… And no. He’s helping me with my kitchen remodel.” She told Lauren about the small, casual touches Gordon seemed to not even notic
e. “With Andre, being that close was horrible. I knew his main goal was to end up in bed. It terrified me. Not Andre himself,” she explained, “but just the thought of being intimate with him was repulsive. And every other man I’ve dated through the years, too. It wears you down, really makes you doubt your own self-worth, that repulsion.”
Lauren agreed. “I know. It does. I’d see Annie or Beth, all our other friends, and they didn’t seem to have the same hang-ups I did. I got to the point where if someone set me up on a blind date, I’d almost invent an illness to avoid it. What was the point? I wasn’t going to ever meet a man who I could stand to have touch me, so I might as well stay home and spend the time with Ava.”
“And then you met Charlie.”
“Yes. And then I met Charlie, and it was night and day. Look, I don’t want to say it was easy, letting him close physically. Parts of the whole intimate relationship were easier, more natural, than others. And my husband is an incredibly patient man. He didn’t get angry if I needed to stop for a while, take a breather. Even if the breather was a day or two. I had my doubts that we would ever be able to have a normal, healthy sex life.” Her cheeks flushed, and she laughed softly. “But it is possible. With the right man, it’s more than possible.”
Stacy’s own cheeks as if they were on fire. “How long did it take you to work up to sex?”
Lauren pushed her hair back from where it had slipped forward. “We waited until we were married. Charlie was adamant. He didn’t want me to think he married me just because the sex was good. And if we had ended up not married, he didn’t want me to think the sex was the reason why. I didn’t see it quite the same way, but it was important to him.”
“If it came down to it, and I ended up in a relationship with Gordon, I don’t know that I could wait,” Stacy admitted. “I feel like I’ve already waited so long, and if it turns out that he is attracted to me, and vice versa, I don’t think I’d want to wait. Not after I got my head around the idea of being intimate.”
“And that’s fine. You have to do what feels right for you. Not Gordon, not the rest of the world, but for you. For me, waiting turned out to be the right choice. I don’t regret it. But I’d been married, and I didn’t expect that I ever would be again. And maybe I was testing Charlie a little, I’ll admit that, even if I wasn’t that keen on waiting at first. He knows that, smart man that he is. It was a test he wanted to take, and he passed it with flying colors.”
“You got very lucky with him, you know?”
Lauren’s smile was a little misty. “Yeah, I do. For what it’s worth, I like Gordon. From what Beth and Annie have said about him, he really loved his late wife. He’s not afraid to admit that or that he mourned her deeply. But the way he looks at you, Ms. Kirchner,” she said with a knowing look, “charges the room when you’re in the same place. And I don’t think it’s just physical. It’s the way Ethan looks at Beth, Chase at Annie.”
“Charlie at you?” Stacy teased, even though her heart was pounding just from the image Lauren’s words invoked.
“Yes, the way Charlie looks at me. It isn’t just lust, I don’t think. If it were, I’ll bet you he would have already acted. Lust doesn’t make a man like Gordon hesitate. He’s the kind of guy who goes after what he wants.”
The thought of being actively pursued by Gordon was unsettling, but not in a bad way. Still, she wasn’t sure she would be able to handle the attention. She told Lauren that. “What if I freeze up, and he leaves? That’s what happened with Andre. Of course, this is all theoretical. We could be building castles in the sky.”
Lauren waved a hand. “No. I really don’t think so. And if he were stupid enough to walk away, he doesn’t deserve you. But Gordon isn’t a quitter. When are you seeing him again?”
“Tonight. I’m helping him study for the bar in exchange for his help with the kitchen.”
“Nice. Lots of opportunities to get to know him better.”
“I’ve thought about wearing a dress, but I don’t want to seem too forward or needy,” Stacy told her hesitantly. If she’d said that to anyone else, they might not have understood, but Lauren would. “I only ever wear slacks or jeans out in public, but at home, I like wearing dresses. I don’t have to be a ‘tough guy,’ so to speak. Do you think that would be too much?”
“Would you be comfortable around him in a dress? That’s the more important question here.”
“I don’t know.”
Katy let out a small cry of distress, and Lauren picked her up. “You wear whatever you want to wear, whatever you’re comfortable in. I don’t think just because you wear a dress, Gordon’s going to jump you or think you’re desperate.” She laid the baby on the changing table.
Stacy glanced at her watch and was shocked to see that it was after two. “I’d better go. I still have some laundry to do today before I go to Chase’s. Gordon’s babysitting Murphy while they’re on their honeymoon.”
“That’s right. I’d forgotten that. It’ll be fun to hear how that goes for him,” Lauren said over her shoulder with a grin. “That cat is trouble with a tail, from what I’ve heard.”
“Yeah, me, too. Listen, I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me today. You didn’t have to do this. It means a lot.” Expressing the sentiment made Stacy uncomfortable, but she meant every word.
“Any time. And I mean that, Stacy. Any time you need to talk, call me. I hope this has helped.”
“It has.”
As she made her way to the sheriff’s department to get her car, the conversation with Lauren played through her head again and again. Even though she’d worked with rape victims over the years, both in her job and through advocacy programs, seeing someone she knew who was happy and healing made Stacy consider the possibilities from a different angle. Lauren might have hit the nail on the head. She had to forgive herself in order to really heal. Also, she needed to trust the man she was in a relationship with. Stacy thought she could trust Gordon. He’d never given her a reason to doubt that she could.
A deep longing had grown in the pit of Stacy’s belly as she’d watched Lauren with Katy. The thought that she could possibly have a child, much less a man in her life who loved her and whom she loved, someday was tantalizing. Stacy wanted a family with something akin to hunger. She was realizing, though, that in order to get that, she was going to have to reach out and make herself vulnerable. She hoped she was strong enough to do that.
When Stacy showed up at Chase and Annie’s for her study session with Gordon, she was astonished at the sight that met her eyes. Gordon answered the door in jeans, a dirty T-shirt, and bare feet and a sticky-looking white substance smeared into his hair. Aside from the past two days when they’d been working on the kitchen, she’d never seen him flustered or mussed, but he was both when he came to the door.
“Hi. Did I come at a bad time?” she asked as he held the door open for her to enter.
“No. But I thought we said five-thirty?”
She glanced at her watch. “Um, it is five-thirty. I can go if you’re in the middle of something.”
He cursed and ran his hands through his hair. When he encountered the white substance, he growled. “That little… I’m sorry. It has been one helluva day. I haven’t even had time to get in the shower.”
When Murphy came gamboling down the hall, skidding to a stop at Stacy’s feet with a chirruping meow, Gordon growled again. Realization started to dawn, especially given the dirty looks he was sending the cat. Struggling to hide her amusement, she scooped Murphy up and cuddled him close.
“Has this little guy had anything to do with your bad day?” She kept her tone deliberately light.
“I tried to do laundry. He got in the washer, then the dryer. Do you know how hard it is to hold back a determined ten-pound cat?” Before she could answer, he continued. “So then I thought we might have some old-fashioned home cooking for supper. Comfort food, since we’re going to be running the test gauntlet this evening. Fried chicken, green beans, mashe
d potatoes and gravy.” He took a few steps toward the kitchen, then turned back to Stacy.
“Did you know that a ten-pound cat can easily jump onto a kitchen counter and snag a raw chicken breast faster than a grown man can react?”
Stacy wasn’t even trying to hide her grin, but she shook her head.
“Well, he can do that. And do you know what he does with said raw chicken breast? Which is damned near bigger than him, I might add.”
“No, I don’t. Please, do tell me.” She took a seat in a comfortable rocking chair. Murphy purred up at her, seeming to approve the move and taunt Gordon at the same time.
“He drags it through the house, across the rugs, down the hall, over the furniture—thankfully, it’s leather, so cleanup was easy—and finally, when he’s tired of being chased and yelled at to drop the damned chicken, he takes it onto the bed. Onto my bed. With my clean laundry.”
Stacy burst into laughter, and Murphy simply tightened his paws around where he was holding on to her, which happened to be her breast, and Gordon’s eyes followed the movement.
“And after all that, he’s the one who gets held and gets to hold on to your… to you,” he burst out, hands on his hips. He shook his head. “I’m going to have to raid Chase’s closet to have a clean shirt to wear. Everything I brought with me is in the washer, covered in chicken juice.”
“I’m s-sorry,” she told him through the laughter. “And the stuff in your hair? I guess he’s responsible for that, too?”
“Indirectly. When your hands are covered in batter—batter that is supposed to be put on raw chicken—and you have to stop and chase down a menace of a cat, you forget that your hands are covered in the stuff. And when you finally catch the cat on your formerly clean laundry with the now-inedible chicken, you get a little frustrated. Hands go into hair to pull it out.” He demonstrated the move that had resulted in the white streaks.