Unbearable (The Port Fare Series)

by Sherry Gammon

  “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Would you mind driving then so I can finish these?”

  “I can’t drive stick,” I admitted, scrunching my nose.

  “You can’t drive . . . Well, no time like the present to learn.” He placed the sandwiches in the backseat and got out of the car.

  “No, I tried. It was a disaster,” and it cost me an elbow in the stomach and a shove to the ground by Garen.

  “That’s because I didn’t teach you.” He took my hand and guided me out of the car. “I promise to be kind and patient. And do I not keep my promises?”

  I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Okay.” I started for the driver’s side when he took hold of my arm.

  “No pressure, Tess. You can say no.”

  “I know. And thanks for saying that.” I wanted to throw my arms around him and thank him for all the kindness he’d shown me, and for the restraint he used in not pressuring me into going out with him. Instead, I nodded and got into the rusty green car and double-checked my seatbelt. I was taking no chances.

  “I’m assuming you know a little about how to use the clutch and gas pedal?”

  “Yes, but I can’t seem to get the timing,” I explained. “Either I let the clutch out too fast and jerk all over the place or I kill the engine.”

  He explained about listening to the engine and getting a feel for it, all the things that Garen had explained, except Booker’s voice held no condescension. I turned the engine on after engaging the clutch.

  “Slowly let off the clutch and press on the gas pedal at the same time.” I did exactly what he said and the car bucked forward and died.

  Booker chuckled. Not what I expected. I’d take laughing over punching any day. “You’ll get it. Try a little more gas and a little less clutch.”

  Twenty minutes later we’d made it to the mouth of the parking lot. “I’m hopeless.” Exasperated, I turned the car off.

  “No. You’re frustrated. We’ve made it clear across the parking lot,” he pointed out as if that were some grand feat.

  “Seriously? I’ve gone fifty feet in twenty minutes. At this rate it will be nine-thirty on Monday before we get back to Port Fare.”

  “You know, Tess, if you want to grow old with me, pretending you can’t drive a stick is going about it the hard way.” He looked at me sternly, as if he meant every word. I dropped my head back against the headrest and laughed. “I do enjoy that laugh,” he said, brushing a strand of my hair over my shoulder.

  I turned my head, facing him. He twisted sideways, an arm wrapped around the headrest. Our eyes locked, then his gaze fell to my lips. I could feel my breath catch. He reached over and tugged a strand of my hair. “I’m trying real hard not to break my promise here. Maybe we should get going.”

  “Good idea.” I took a cleansing breath. “Okay. First gear is here?” He nodded. “Let off the clutch slowly and give it some gas,” I said to myself for the hundredth time. The car jerked forward, but it was the smoothest of my attempts so far. I drove to the throughway and kept going. By the end of our two-hour drive, I’d gotten the whole shifting thing down pretty good. Granted, we were on the freeway so I seldom had to shift, but I felt proud. I’d conquered a stick shift. I pulled up in front of my trailer and maneuvered the car between a snow bank and a tree.

  “Great job.” Booker smiled.

  “Thanks,” I said proudly, forgetting to leave my foot on the clutch. We jetted forward into the snow bank.

  Booker chuckled. “Guess you get to try reverse,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “The tree is about ten feet behind us so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “‘Shouldn’t’ being the optimal word,” I grumbled, restarting the car. It took me three attempts to get it into reverse.

  “Ease up carefully,” Booker instructed.

  I jerked us back a few inches and killed the engine again. “Tess, more gas pedal. We’re on ice so it may take a little more but don’t gun it.”

  I nodded as we continued jerking back ever so slowly. “More gas pedal,” he said again.

  So I did. And we hit the tree. My heart jumped up my throat. I hurried out of the car and ran to survey the damage. His trunk and fender had a six-inch crease, there was no way he could open his trunk, and the muffler had fallen completely off.

  Booker came around. “Are you hurt? You’re whiter than the snow.”

  I looked at him, my eyes wide, my mouth hanging open, waiting for the explosion when he saw the damage. He wouldn’t hit me, but he would be furious. I could feel the tremors taking over. I wedged my tongue between my teeth to keep them from chattering. I stepped back as he glanced at the damage.

  “I’ll pay for it I’ve money in savings I’ve enough to cover the damage in fact, I can replace it and you can have my car until yours is fixed I’m so sorry.” My words were one long run-on sentence through chattering teeth. Booker looked at me, his brow tight. He took one long stride toward me.

  “What did that scumbag do to you?” Anger rolled off him as he cupped my face in his hands. “Tess, I’m not going to hurt you. Please tell me you know that.” I nodded as he wiped the tears rolling down my cheeks and pulled me to him. “It’s a piece of metal. Not even metal, more like fiberglass. And rust anymore. I’m not worried about the car. I’m worried about you. You’re trembling. And I don’t believe it is because you’re cold.”

  I shook my head, ashamed of my reaction. “You must think I’m an idiot. I’m trying to forget him. I’m doing better. When I’m in public, I force myself not to search for him. But a part of me still lives in fear. Every raised voice still draws my attention. You have no idea how hard I’ve been trying to put it all behind me.”

  “I just might understand, Tess, at least on some level.” Pain filled his tight eyes. I remembered him telling me his mother and sister were killed right in front of him. Maybe he did understand.

  “Is it alright if we go inside so I can call a tow truck?” I nodded, and then he added, “I’ve something I want to share with you. Maybe we can help each other move on.”

  Chapter 17

  Booker

  I settled on the couch as Tess handed me a mug of hot chocolate. She’d used little envelopes of store-bought cocoa mix. I forced myself not to cringe. “I love hot chocolate.” A pained smile tightened her pale face. Crashing my car did a number on her.

  I took a sip, shoving a groan back down my throat at the watery drink. Yuck. “I make a killer homemade hot cocoa that will ruin you for other cocoas,” I promised, forcing down more of the vile liquid. “I can make us up some if you’d like.” Keeping my voice from sounding desperate wasn’t easy.

  “Remember, non-cook here. I don’t even have cocoa.” She pointed to herself as she sat down on the opposite end of the couch. “I’m sorry about your car. Like I said, I’ve enough money to pay for a new one.”

  “I’ve been thinking about getting a new car, actually. Seth’s been after me, insisting clients won’t have any confidence in my skills if they see me driving the POC.” I shrugged. “He’s got a point. I’d pretty much decided to go and look next week, though now you may have to drive me around to the car lots,” I teased.

  Tears fell down her cheeks again as her lower lip wobbled. I slid over next to her, putting my arm around her shoulder. “Hey, I was teasing.” I kissed her temple. “Now look what you made me do. I just broke my promise not to kiss you. I never break a promise.”

  She laughed through her tears. “You honestly expect me to believe that you’ve never broken a promise, ever?”

  “I’m far from perfect, but in all honesty, I do my best to keep my promises. You can blame my dad.” I pulled my arm back and set it on my lap. The less touching I did, the better. “He was a stickler for honesty and integrity. He ground the values into me from an early age. After he died, my mother picked up where he left off.”

  “How old where you when she died? I know you told me, but I can’t remember.” Tess took a swallow of
her watery cocoa and smiled, as if the stuff actually tasted good.

  “Sixteen,” I said soberly. “Tess, I’d like to share something with you I’ve never told anyone. Not even Seth knows all the details. But I’m hoping my ordeal will help you deal with your past.”

  “Okay. And I promise to not repeat it,” she vowed.

  “Thank you.” I took a deep breath, not wanting to relive the nightmare, but hoping it was for the good in the long run. “When I was sixteen, me and my buddies, the Im brothers—”

  “Im brothers?” Tess brow wrinkled in confusion.

  “Their real names were Jim and Tim, but I call them the Im brothers as in Jim and Tim.” I chuckled as she playfully rolled her eyes. “Come on, Tess, I was sixteen after all. Besides, the Ims deserved it. They called me Sam I Am after the Dr. Seuss book.” She mumbled something that sounded like boys, and waved her hand, signaling for me to continue. “The brothers and I were fishing up on Lake Ontario. It was a hot and sticky July afternoon.”

  “Sticky, I believe, but hot?” she questioned.

  “Ha-ha. As I was saying, a couple of rough looking guys, in their mid-twenties, I’d guess, came over wanting to sell us some weed. None of us did drugs, but the older guys were intimidating, not to mention persistent. I wanted to leave, get away from them as quickly as possible. Tim, always quick on his feet, made up a story about growing his own weed, hoping they’d think we were not in the market and leave.” I shook my head. Who knew what a big mistake that would be? “I joined in, elaborating on the plants and lights I had hidden in the closet in my room. We laid it on pretty thick. It worked. They hung around for only a few more minutes, then left. We went back to fishing, not giving the guys another thought.

  “Two weeks later, I paid dearly for my lie.” I rubbed my chest as the vivid nightmare flooded my brain. Every gruesome detail, front and center, as if it were happening all over again.

  “Samuel, stop teasing your sister and set the table. Dinner will be ready in ten minutes.” Mom led Sara to the bedroom for a breathing treatment. Her asthma had been acting up all day. I began setting the orange plates out when someone knocked at the door.

  “Sam, get that, please,” Mom yelled from the bedroom.

  “Yup.” I crossed the dining room and jogged down the hallway, flipping on the lights. My gut sank when I opened the door. The marijuana guys from Lake Ontario stood on my doorstep dressed in baseball caps and oversized jeans. They rushed forward, each carrying a bat, and shoved me back up the hall.

  “Dude, it’s one of the pukes from the lake,” the tall blond one said, grinning ear to ear.

  “Where do you keep your stuff, twit?” asked the shorter one with brown hair. He slapped the bat in his palm, leaving little doubt what would happen if I didn’t cooperate.

  Why had I lied? They were going to kill me. My heart beat so hard it bordered on painful. “Um . . . I don’t have any drugs. I was lying at the lake.”

  The blond pitched the bat into my gut and I doubled over with an oomph, stumbling back against the wall.

  “Glen, don’t hurt him just yet. Let’s check out his room, maybe he’s lying.” The shorter one grabbed my elbow. “Where’s your room?”

  “I . . . I swear, I was lying,” I said, struggling to breathe still.

  “Where is it?” Glen screamed, punching my chest. My shoulder collided with the wall, and I slid to the floor.

  “None of us do drugs. We were afraid of you, so we lied to get you to leave.” I staggered to my feet.

  “Kevin, have him show you his room. I’ll look around in here and see what I can find.” Glen jogged toward the family room.

  “My mom’s here, and my sister. If you come back tomorrow they’ll be gone and you can search the entire house,” I bargained.

  Kevin turned to me and slapped the bat on his palm. “You ever heard of a home invasion robbery, liar?” I nodded slowly. “Well, this is your home, and we’re invading it.” He raised the bat and I turned, covering my head as it came down across my back, knocking me to the floor. He laughed and left me lying there.

  “Sam, who was at the . . . I don’t believe we’ve met.” My mom shoved Sara behind her. She spotted me as I struggled to stand. “Sam!”

  Kevin swung his fist into my mom’s face and she stumbled back onto the floor, taking Sara with her. I weaved toward my family and took a swing at Kevin, missing. The force threw me off balance and I fell to the floor.

  Glen came back into the room, carrying my mom’s jewelry box under his arm. “No one’s growing drugs in the closet. He did lie to us.” Glen kicked me as I crawled to my sister. I ignored the pain and covered her with my body to protect her. Kevin grabbed me by my hair and pulled me back.

  “Please, don’t hurt my children!” My mother sat up and wiped blood from her lip with her fingers. “I have money. It’s in a shoebox in my closet. It’s all we have. Take it and leave.”

  Kevin signaled with a nod to Glen who dropped the jewelry box onto the recliner and jogged back down the hall. “Stay put,” Kevin demanded as he crossed to the kitchen, pounding his bat on the counter. “You move again, lady, you all die.” I turned to see my mom sit back down.

  Kevin pulled drawer after drawer in the kitchen out and dumped the contents onto the floor. He jerked open the drawer where we kept the tape, and smiled. He grabbed a roll of duct tape as Glen came back carrying a brown and red shoebox.

  “Jackpot, dude. There’s at least five hundred dollars here.” Glen opened the box and grabbed a fistful of money, waving it at Kevin.

  “Good.” Kevin held up the duct tape. “We need to take care of these guys.” Glen stuffed the money back in the box and set it next to the jewelry.

  “Please, just take the money and leave. We won’t even call the police,” my mom promised as Glen shoved her to the floor. They laughed.

  Kevin jerked me to my feet. In my desperation to protect my family, I threw several punches at him, despite the fact that I knew it was a foolish act. One of my wild punches landed on his jaw. He shoved me to the floor before pulling a gun from his pocket.

  “We can do this the hard way or the easy way, punk,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Now, get up.” I stumbled to my feet and Kevin forced me onto a bar stool, his gun held firmly in his free hand. He wound layer after layer of the duct tape around my legs, binding me to the stool.

  “Why are you doing that?” Glen asked, as he knelt next to my mother. “I thought we agreed to robbery only. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life in jail for murder if we get caught.” He rubbed his face, obviously frustrated. “I knew I shouldn’t have let you talk me into bring guns.”

  “Dude, we’re not going to kill them, but that liar over there needs to be taught a lesson,” he explained, walking back over to Glen. “Besides, look how pretty this girl is.”

  “I like the way you think.” Kevin grinned malevolently before turning to me. “We’re going to take care of her first. I want the pleasure of seeing you watch. Then I’m going to beat you senseless.”

  “I’ll never forget those words.” I pinched my eyes shut. “They violated my mom and sister like only foul, disgusting perverts would. My sister’s asthma kicked in, and she didn’t survive the brutal attack. A blessing, really. That freaked them out, especially Glen. That was when they decided they’d have to kill all of us to keep from being caught. Kevin tried to make me watch, part of my punishment, he said, but my mother pleaded with me not to. I shut my eyes, but could still hear it all. Each hit, each tearful plea.” I dropped my head back against the couch, exhausted. Tess wrapped her hands around mine. “They came at me next. I have no idea why they didn’t use their guns nor do I remember much about what they did to me except that they beat me good. I woke up in the hospital a week later, with Seth’s parents at my side.” I released a heavy breath. “I carried the guilt of their deaths for a long time.” Still carry it some days.

  I looked at Tess’ tear-bathed face for the first time since I began. I saw
pain in her eyes . . . and recognition. She knew, from bitter experience, exactly how I felt. It made me sick. She brushed the tears away and pressed her cheek to mine.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered softly in my ear. I put my arms around her and held her next to me as I pushed the memories away. I’d learned years ago that reliving the nightmare only damaged me. I seldom thought about it anymore, but when I did, the hurt was just as raw, just as crippling as it was all those years ago.

  “Did they ever find the guys who did it?” she asked against my cheek.

  “Nope. I like to imagine they doubled-crossed their drug supplier and were murdered, violently and slowly.” I shrugged. “But that’s only my hope.”

  Tess pulled back and looked into my eyes. I could see the dark rim of her contacts. She gently touched my cheek with the back of her hand, her eyes wide with compassion. A few tears tumbled down her cheeks again.

  “Tess, I didn’t tell you my story to make you sad. I just wanted you to understand that I know somewhat of where you’re coming from, and that you have a friend in me. Someone you can trust. Someone who can relate to your pain.”

  She nodded. “Thank you. It does help.” She smiled tenderly. “We’re a pretty damaged pair, you and me.”

  “I like to think of us as survivors.” I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

  “Yes. Definitely survivors. And I need to try harder to do more surviving and less cowering.”

  Chapter 18

  Tess

  4 ½ years ago

  The throbbing in my head paled against the sharp stabbing pain in my lower abdomen. I groaned and tried twisting onto my side.

  “Hold still, Terese. I’m here now. Everything will be fine.” Garen’s false reassurance chased an icy chill up my spine as I tried to figure out what was going on through the haze in my mind.

  Why am I in pain? Where am I? I forced my eyes open, only to shut them against the bright light.

  “What’s . . . Where am I?” I sputtered out weakly. Someone tugged on my feet, separating them, and setting each onto something hard and cold.