Starting Over Trilogy Boxset

by Kennedy, Brenda

  “Uncle Raúl, I’m scared,” I say as a sob escapes from my throat.

  I put my hands over my mouth to silence the cries. I sit on the couch and bury my head in my hand, shaking uncontrollably.

  “Baby, don’t be scared. I have some connections and I am using them. We will be there on Tuesday. Just do what you have been doing, and I will be there soon. I love you, Pumpkin.”

  “I love you more.”

  And we hang up.

  I kick off my shoes and cover myself with the handmade quilt from behind the sofa. It’s one of the few quilts my mother made. I just lie there. I think I am too shocked or too frightened to move. I’m not sure which. I listen intently to the sounds and creaks of the old house, Aunt Rosita’s house, my Aunt Rosie as only I call her.

  I wake up to a noise. I lie there with my eyes open, but I am too afraid to move. I just listen. My phone chimes that I have a new text. I don’t care. It is just becoming dawn. I have plans today, but I am not sure if I am going to keep them. The cat outside my front door meows. I just lie there. How much longer am I going to be a prisoner in my own home, in my own body, a prisoner to Jim’s threats? I know it is early morning, but the sunlight does not shine through into my home. My blinds and curtains are closed, and I can see only a hint of light between the wall and the blinds. I feel dark; I am back in the dark place that has consumed my life while I was with Jim. My dark house reflects my inner darkness. I thought I left the blackness behind me, but it has once again found me and is consuming me. Who was I to think I could save myself? I roll over on my side facing the back of the couch and pray sleep finds me.

  I wake up to a knock at my door. I lie there praying they’ll go away. Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong, the doorbell rings. Damn, no such luck. I get up and quietly walk to the door. I have no idea what time it is. I look out the peep hole and Mason is standing there. Shit, please go away, I think to myself. Ding-dong-ding-dong-ding-dong. I reluctantly open the door slightly, squinting my eyes at the bright sunlight and peek around the door. I owe him an excuse, an apology or something as to why I am not going today.

  “Mason, I’m sorry. I was going to call you, but I have been sick in bed. I can’t go today.”

  He looks confused.

  “Sick, huh?”

  I cough and clear my throat and say, “Yeah, pretty sick and I think I’m contagious.”

  “Mmmm, contagious, huh?”

  I cough again and sniffle, damn him, what is he getting at?

  “Yeah, so I’ll talk to you later.”

  I back up and start to close the door. It stops all of the sudden. I peek around the door and Mason has his foot pressed against the bottom of the door to prevent it from closing.

  “Excuse me, Mason. I need to get back to bed. I’m sorry, but this came on all of a sudden. I don’t want to infect you with this nasty illness, too.”

  He steps into the door frame gently pushing me out of the way and opens the door wide enough for him to get through. I stand there wearing day-old clothes, my hair a ratty mess. I am praying my house is dark enough he can’t see me or smell me for that matter.

  He locks the door behind him and takes my hand and leads me to the couch. He raises the quilt for me to climb under it. I do exactly as he wants. Why do I always do that? He disappears into the kitchen and opens some cabinets. What is he looking for? I just close my eyes and slide down deeper into the couch.

  “I found the Tylenol but where do you keep your cold medications?”

  Crap.

  “They are in my bathroom cabinet,” I say, closing my eyes and coughing again for good measure. I sniffle, too.

  He lays a bottle of water on the coffee table for me with the bottle of Tylenol, before he saunters off into my bedroom. He returns with a thermometer and some different types of cold medicines. He kneels down beside me, shakes the thermometer and then holds it out for me. I open my mouth and lift my tongue so he can place it under my tongue. I close my mouth. What am I going to do now? He waits patiently looking at his watch every now and then. He feels my forehead with the back of his hand. He doesn’t say anything, but I know he doesn’t believe me. He removes the thermometer and looks at it. He raises an eyebrow, looks at me, and then looks back to the thermometer.

  “Is there something you have to say to me, Beauty?

  “I’m sick,” I say looking away from him and those dark beautiful eyes that are always trying to read my soul. I cough again and fake a sneeze.

  “Angel, look at me.”

  I do, damn my body for betraying me.

  “I’m going to ask you only one more time. Is there something you have to tell me?”

  I feel like a child being scolded for lying. Damn him!

  Playing with the edge of the quilt, I look away from him.

  “Um, I’m not really sick.”

  Why am I telling him that? And why do I do everything he wants?

  “Angel, look at me.”

  Of course, I do that, too.

  “I know you’re not. So why did you lie to me?”

  He strokes my cheek with the back of his hand.

  “Because I’m afraid,” I say as a single tear runs down my cheek.

  “Beauty, you never have to be afraid. I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  He wipes the tear from my cheek.

  “What are you so afraid of?” he asks, still kneeling down beside me.

  I shake my head and look away from him.

  He places his hand on my chin and turns my head towards his, ever so gently. Our eyes meet and they are pleading with mine. He leans in and kisses my nose before placing his forehead against mine.

  “You can tell me anything,” he says as he rubs his cheek against mine.

  He leans back onto his heels and looks as broken as I am. He has the saddest eyes. No one has ever looked at me like that before. I clear my throat and maintain eye contact with him. I sit up straighter and pull the quilt up a little higher. I clear my throat again.

  “Mason, when I was in college I met a guy and fell madly in love with him. His name was Jim Davis. He was so sweet and caring. I honestly thought he was my soul mate. Two years later I moved in with him. He was a police officer with the Los Angeles Police Department before being promoted to detective shortly after. He was the first guy I have ever given myself to. I was totally in love with him. Shortly after I moved in with him, things started to change — he changed.”

  I pause taking a deep breath. Tears are running down my eyes. Mason brushes them away, never speaking, and never breaking eye contact. He moves and sits on the edge of the couch beside me.

  “He became jealous and obsessive. He started hitting me. I had to drop out of college because of all the classes I had to miss from the bruises to my face and body. One day I went to the store and spent more money than I was supposed to, and he beat me so badly I was in the hospital for a week and in a coma for three days. The hospital called the police station and reported the abuse. The detectives called Jim in and questioned him, but he lied and said he came home and found me like that. When I woke up from my coma, he threatened to kill me if I didn’t cover for him so I said I had been robbed.”

  I close my eyes and try to collect my thoughts.

  “He would always apologize and I wanted so much to believe him, but he would always do it again. At my Dad’s funeral, I had bruises on my face, I tried to cover them with makeup.”

  Mason wipes away the tears streaming down my face.

  “I thought I did a good job covering them, but my Aunt Rosie saw the bruises anyway. She wanted to help me. God knows, she tried to help me, but I was too afraid to let her. He was a detective at the police department and I was too afraid to report the abuse. He said he would kill me and hide my body so I would never be found. I believed him.”

  I close my eyes at the memory and a sob escapes from my mouth. Mason says nothing but leans in and kisses the top of my head.

  “My Aunt Rosie left me this hous
e and told me to get away from Jim and to start my life over. So I did exactly as she said. I left six months ago when he was at work and never looked back.”

  I wipe my tears with the backs of my hands without looking away from him.

  “My Uncle Raúl called me yesterday and told me Jim was fired from his job three months ago and hasn’t been seen since. I think he’s here,” I say, crying uncontrollably and covering my face with my hands.

  Mason leans in and hugs me. He places a kiss to the top of my head and leaves his mouth there. He holds me tightly and lets me cry.

  “He used to call me all the time after I left, begging me to come home, telling me he changed, and he said he would go to counseling if I went back. I had to change my number. I never did tell him where I moved to, but it wouldn’t be hard for him to find me.”

  Mason leans back and waits. I know he’s giving me time to collect my thoughts.

  “What do you want to do about all this?” he asks while he scratches his chin.

  “Well, my Uncle Raúl is having someone check on Jim to see where he is. He and my aunt will be here sometime on Tuesday.”

  I wipe the tears from my eyes.

  “I want to be free from him once and for all. To live my life like I want to. I don’t want to fear him every single time I turn around.”

  He tucks a piece of my hair behind my ear while searching my eyes.

  “Angel, one thing I know is that a man who beats on a woman is nothing less than a coward. If he wants you, he will have to go through me first.”

  He holds my hand, while his thumb caresses my knuckles.

  “I have no intentions of sitting back and letting him get anywhere near you. Let’s wait and see what your uncle comes up with. In the meantime, you can stay in my spare bedroom until he and your aunt arrive.”

  “Mason, I can’t do that. I don’t want to put you out. I’m fine. I’m just having an emotional moment,” I say while wiping my tears with the backs of my hands.

  Mason stands and heads into my bathroom. I sit there, not sure what he is doing. He returns and tells me he is running my bath. He tells me to wear something comfortable and to pack an overnight bag. He reaches for my hand and helps me up. I walk into the bathroom without saying a word. True to his word, the tub is filling with hot water and my peach scent bubble bath.

  I undress and climb into the tub. I lean back and get my thoughts together. I can hear music playing on the surround sound. I wash my hair, shave, and try to wash the nightmare of the last 24 hours from my body. I put on my favorite peach scent body lotion and body spray, brush my teeth, dry my hair, and leave it down. I apply makeup and some light pink lip gloss. Searching my closet for something comfortable, I decide on a red, spaghetti-strap, above-the-knee-length sun dress and a pair of red strappy heels. A little more body spray, and I feel and look like a different person. A pair of gold hoop earrings completes the outfit.

  I walk out into the living room and see Mason is pouring two cups of coffee. The blinds and curtains are all opened, music is playing on the surround sound, and my Mom’s quilt is folded and placed on the back of the couch. He looks up at me when he hears me walking to him. He looks me up and down and gives me his dimple smile that I love.

  “Wow!” he says appreciatively. “You look beautiful.”

  He hands me a cup of hot coffee and a bagel.

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, I thought you were dressing comfortably?” he says, eyeing my dress and heels.”

  “I can change if you don’t like it,” I say while turning around so he can see every angle.

  Looking at me and licking his lips, he says, “I wish you wouldn’t.”

  I wrap my arms around his neck and he lifts me up and kisses me. He smells like spice and sandalwood. He deepens the kiss and I moan when our lips touch. He pulls away and sets me back down on the floor.

  “Feeling better?” he asks while putting me down.

  “Much, thank you.”

  “Did you pack an overnight bag?”

  “No, I’m not going to intrude on you. Thank you, but I’m fine here.”

  “Angel?”

  “Mason?”

  “When it comes to your safety, I’m not playing. You have two choices. You pack your bag or I’ll pack your bag, and trust me, you won’t like what I pack for you.”

  He crosses his arms in a stance that says, try me.

  “Have it your way. Where’s your lingerie kept?” He says walking towards the bedroom.

  “Okay, fine.”

  I huff into the bedroom and pack what I need for a day. I am not intruding on him for more than that.

  When I enter the living room, he is texting someone and has stress lines on his forehead. He puts his phone away before I reach him. I wrap my arms around his waist.

  “Everything ok?” I ask.

  His smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

  “Great, are you ready?” he says, while taking my overnight bag from my shoulders.

  “Where are we going?”

  He takes my hand and leads me outside, locking up as he goes.

  “We have a date, remember?”

  “Do you have a chef’s hat and a ‘Kiss the chef’ apron, or do we need to buy one?”

  "Come on, Beauty, have some faith.”

  He holds the car door open for me.

  “So certain I’m going to like our date?” I say before getting into his car.

  “Yup, positive. Now buckle up.”

  He winks at me before shutting the door.

  As he backs out of the driveway, I look over and ask, “So where are we going?”

  “Shopping.”

  He looks over at me.

  “For what?” I ask, although it doesn’t matter what we shop for. I love shopping for anything.

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, not really.”

  “I thought we would shop for my beach house. It’s almost done and I need some furniture in it. I thought you could be my own personal consultant.”

  I am almost giddy.

  “Really? You want me to help decorate your beach house?”

  “I was thinking it would be fun and you would be a great resource … or we could shop for a chef’s hat and apron, instead.”

  ‘No, no, I think furniture shopping is a great idea.”

  “So you like the date choice?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

  What a smart ass. Holding his hand I say, “Mason, I love your date choice.”

  We take 75 to 275 and drive across the Sunshine Skyway Bridge leading to Tampa. I look over into the water because dolphins usually can be see there. We talk about what his tastes are and what he would like in the beach house. He has a painting in the back of the car that his mother painted — he wants to incorporate those hues of color into the décor. He tells me that if he can furnish the master suite, family room, and dining room today, he will be happy.

  He pulls into the most high-end furniture store in downtown Tampa. We walk into the store hand in hand. I am so excited that I finally get to put some of my college education to use. We walk through the store, and he points out what he likes and I point out what I like and what would go with it. We match furniture with lamps, rugs, pillows and wall art. He also shops for outdoor furniture and bar stools.

  Pleased with his purchases, he settles the bill and arranges for a delivery date for two weeks.

  After dinner at a fancy downtown restaurant, we drive the hour and a half back to Sarasota. I tell him I am feeling better and I should stay at my place tonight. I tell him I was overreacting and I am fine, while plastering on a fake smile. He totally ignores me and keeps his eyes on the road while holding my hand. He tells me he has work tomorrow morning, and he wants me to make myself at home while he is gone. He thinks I should just hang out there and cook my famous Indian meal that I owe him. He also throws in that he thinks I should wear a cute little chef’s hat and a ‘Kiss the chef’ apron while I cook. He rea
lly did come up with a great date, I have to give him that. What girl doesn’t like shopping and spending someone else’s money?

  “You do realize I have only had two Indian cooking classes, right? I could make you a Mexican dish, if you would prefer it.”

  “Anything you want would be great. You can choose. As long as it’s home cooked, I’m good.”

  He looks over at me and smiles.

  He pulls up to his condo and parks in his designated spot. He grabs my overnight bag before reaching for my hand to help me out of the car. Without saying a word, we walk hand in hand into his condo. He locks up behind us, grabs my hand, and leads me into the spare bedroom. He tosses my overnight bag on the bed and shows me the private bathroom and tells me to make myself at home.

  I follow him out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. He opens a bottle of wine, pours me a glass, and then pours himself a Scotch. He opens the patio door, and we have our drinks outside. The statue is lit up, and it damn near glows. The moonlight reflecting off the Sarasota Bay is truly a sight to see. I stand and look over the railing. He walks over and stands next to me, wrapping his arm around me. I lean into him and lay my head against his chest.

  “I had a great day,” I say without moving. “Thank you for everything.”

  “Me, too, Beauty.”

  He leans down and kisses the top of my head, as he caresses his thumb on my shoulder.

  “It’s beautiful up here; it is truly breathtaking,” I say, staring out at the statue.

  “Do you feel like watching a movie? I can pop some popcorn.”

  “Sounds good, let me change first.”

  Chapter Four: Crisis (A New Beginning)

  Mason

  I head into my bedroom to change into a tee shirt and pair of sweat pants while Angel does the same in the spare bedroom. I pull my phone out and reread the texts that Donovan had sent me earlier.

  D: Mason, I have some news about Angel’s past if you want to hear it.