03_A Family To Call Her Own

by Irene Hannon

  She dropped the pan into the sink, then turned to the carrots lying next to the cutting board and began to chop them viciously. When Zach remained silent, she looked up at him irritably. “I don’t need an audience,” she declared crossly.

  “I was just trying to give you some time to cool down,” he said, striving for a mild tone even as his nerves grew taut.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  In reply she gave him a smoldering look, then went back to the carrots.

  “Are you angry at me, Rebecca?” he asked quietly.

  “No.”

  “You could have fooled me.”

  “Sorry,” she said shortly, continuing to chop.

  “Well, you’re obviously angry about something. So do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

  There was silence for several long seconds, and Zach began to think she was going to ignore this question, too. But finally she spoke.

  “Do you know Melanie Lewis?” she asked curtly. “One of my waitresses?”

  Zach frowned. “Yes. She’s in one of my classes, as a matter of fact. Why?”

  “She went to the end-of-the-school-year dance last night with the son of her father’s boss, and he attacked her.”

  Zach straightened up abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, he attacked her?”

  “Exactly what I said.” She gave him a cursory account of the incident, her voice shaking with anger. “And if another car full of students hadn’t come by that boy might be facing criminal charges right now,” she concluded bluntly.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Physically, yes. Emotionally, I’m not so sure. I talked to her parents about it, but they’re not going to do anything. Can you believe that?” she demanded irately.

  “I don’t know how much they could do,” he replied thoughtfully. “Those situations are very sticky. We really don’t know all of the circumstances. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.”

  “A misunderstanding!” Rebecca stared at him disbelievingly, so angry she could barely choke out the words. “She was practically raped!”

  “That’s a serious charge, Rebecca,” he replied gravely.

  “It’s true!”

  “We haven’t heard his side.”

  “I don’t need to! I heard Melanie’s! I saw her eyes! I know her!”

  “I’m not saying she wasn’t frightened,” Zach tried to placate her. “But maybe she just got in over her head. Maybe he misinterpreted her cues.”

  “Or maybe he just decided to add another notch to his belt,” she replied with cold fury.

  “Rebecca, all I’m saying is that we don’t know the whole story,” he pointed out. “A charge like that could ruin a young boy’s life.”

  “Well, what do you think it does to the victim’s?” she shot back.

  The conversation was getting way too emotional for Zach. “Look, Rebecca, calm down. You did everything you could. You talked to Melanie. You talked to her parents. They made their decision. There’s nothing else you can do.”

  She finished the carrots and reached for the celery, pausing only to glare at Zach in silence.

  “Rebecca, there’s a real stigma attached to a charge like this, whether it’s true or not,” he tried again. “I did a series on date rape a couple of years ago, and it’s a murky issue.”

  She looked at him, her eyes blazing. “Oh, so Mr. Journalist thinks he’s an expert just because he wrote a few articles,” she retorted sarcastically.

  “It was an in-depth series,” he replied defensively. “As a matter of fact, it won several awards.”

  “Well, excuse me. I guess that qualifies you as an expert,” she said derisively.

  His own temper was beginning to flare. Planting his fists on his hips, he faced her across the counter. “And you are? What makes you such an expert on the topic?” he flung back at her.

  She stopped and glared at him, one hand clenched around the knife, the other white-knuckled as it gripped the edge of the counter. When she spoke, her voice was low, but it contained a harsh undertone of bitterness, and it shook with barely controlled rage.

  “Because when I was Melanie’s age, I came this close,” she held up one trembling hand and measured a meager half-inch gap between her thumb and index finger, “to having it happen to me.”

  Chapter Twelve

  For several eternal seconds of quivering, shocked silence they stared at each other across the room, Zach stunned by Rebecca’s words, she equally stunned that she’d spoken them.

  In a two-second explanation consisting of one simple sentence, Zach finally had an answer to the question that had troubled him for weeks. Now he understood why Rebecca was so afraid to let anyone close. The traumatic experience she’d endured as an impressionable young girl had apparently convinced her that accepting a date carried serious physical risks or, at the very least, expectations of physical closeness. But Rebecca didn’t even engage in casual displays of affection, let alone intimacy. With her sensitive nature, that frightening early dating experience would have been a nightmare, one that had pursued her relentlessly through the years. It had taken what should, in the right context, have been a beautiful experience and made it an act of aggression, totally devoid of tenderness or even consideration. No wonder she rarely dated after that, was still so fearful when even a hint of passion surfaced.

  As these thought raced through Zach’s mind, his shock rapidly gave way to anger. How could anyone have hurt this warm, vulnerable, caring woman? he railed silently. His jaw clenched as a cold fury enveloped him and a surge of protectiveness swept over him, so fierce it took his breath away. For the first time in his life he felt capable of doing serious damage to another human being.

  Rebecca was aware of Zach’s changing expressions, but only on a peripheral level. She was too busy trying to cope with the fact that she’d just revealed her most closely guarded secret. Melanie’s story had brought back her own experience with a shattering, vivid intensity that tilted her world out of alignment. The anger she’d vented on Zach had been directed not at him, but at the boy who had scarred her indelibly so many years ago. And it was also directed at herself, for allowing his despicable behavior to ruin her life all these years. It was almost as if a release valve had been flicked open, and all the anger and hurt she’d bottled up inside for almost twenty years had finally burst forth.

  As she stared at Zach across the room, trying to decide what to do next, his figure suddenly wavered before her eyes, and the room tilted strangely. She groped for the edge of the counter, then grasped it tightly as she tried to take a deep breath. But her lungs refused to cooperate.

  Zach saw the sudden look of disorientation in Rebecca’s eyes, took in her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter and moved rapidly around the work area, praying he would reach her before she nosedived against the unforgiving edge of the stainless steel work space.

  Despite the fuzziness in her brain, however, Zach’s movement registered, and a surge of panic swept over her. In a triumph of will over body she fought off the sudden attack of vertigo, backing away from him unsteadily even as she rode the waves of blackness that crashed over her. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body, staring at him with frightened eyes as she willed herself to remain upright.

  He stopped a few feet away, sensing that she needed the safety of distance for the moment but poised to reach out to her instantly if she started to pass out. She looked so alone, so vulnerable, so in need of being held. It took every ounce of his willpower to honor her plea when his overriding instinct was to pull her into his arms and hold her until she felt safe and protected and loved.

  He saw a shudder ripple through her, and he swallowed convulsively, his gut clenching as burning rage once more consumed him. But comfort and compassion, not anger, were what she needed now, he reminded himself. If she wouldn’t let him go to her, maybe he could get her to come to him. Slowly, nonthreateningly, he lifted his hand and held i
t out to her.

  “Let me help, Rebecca,” he murmured softly.

  She shook her head jerkily. The dizziness was gone, but now she felt oddly weak—and weary. “It’s too late,” she told him, her voice flat and lifeless.

  “I don’t think it is. Talking about things can help a lot, and I’m a good listener.” When she didn’t respond, he took a tentative step forward. “At least take my hand,” he coaxed.

  She looked down at the strong but gentle hand he offered, then up into his compassionate, caring eyes. Maybe she should talk about it. Her secret was out now, anyway. Perhaps the Lord had let her make that slip as a sign that it was time to share her story, to open her heart to this special man. Perhaps by doing that, she could truly begin to heal.

  Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and took his hand, and he enfolded her cold fingers in his warm, reassuring clasp. Gently he urged her toward him and wrapped his arms around her trembling body, stroking her back.

  He held her like that for a long time, murmuring soothing words, telling her over and over again that everything would be all right, until finally her trembling subsided. Then, his arm around her shoulders, he led her into the restaurant, to a roomy booth in the corner. As they sat down, he pulled her close, into the protective curve of his arm. Silently he handed her his handkerchief, and she took it gratefully, dabbing at her red-rimmed eyes.

  “I—I’m sorry for the way I treated you just now,” she apologized tremulously. “It wasn’t fair.”

  “A lot of things in life aren’t fair,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Rebecca, I’m so sorry! I wish I could just erase that whole ugly experience from your life.”

  “I’ve wished the same thing thousands of times through the years,” she admitted, the catch in her voice tugging at his heart. “But you can’t change the past.”

  “No. All you can do is move on and try not to let it ruin your future.”

  “That’s easier said than done, Zach,” she told him wearily.

  “I know that, sweetheart,” he replied sympathetically. “Sometimes, though, talking it out helps to put it to rest. Do you want to tell me about it?”

  She sighed. “I guess I can try. I just don’t know where to start.”

  “Then how about if I play journalist and ask a few questions?” he suggested.

  “Okay.”

  “You said you were the same age as Melanie?”

  “Yes. Sixteen. I guess that’s why her experience hit so close to home.”

  “Who was the boy?” Whoever he was, and wherever he was, Zach fervently hoped he’d been made to pay in some way for what he’d done to Rebecca. Maybe that was wrong. But it was the way he felt.

  “H-he was the high school football hero. Everyone wanted to go out with him. I couldn’t believe it when he asked me to the spring dance, which was the big social event of the season. I thought I was so lucky, to be asked out by the big man on campus on my very first date.”

  “You mean…this happened to you the very first time you ever went out?”

  “Yes.”

  She heard him mutter something under his breath. Though she couldn’t quite make it out, she knew from his tone that it wasn’t pretty. She inched closer and let her hand rest lightly on his thigh, almost in a gesture of comfort, he thought, a muscle in his jaw twitching. Even in the midst of her own pain, she was attuned to the needs of others. But that was Rebecca. He reached over and covered her hand with his own as she continued.

  “We had fun at the dance. And afterward, when he asked me if I wanted to go for a drive, I said yes. I assumed he wanted to…well…do a little kissing, and I wasn’t opposed. I thought it was pretty exciting to have a first date and a first kiss all in the same night. Except…except he had a lot more than that on his mind.”

  Zach squeezed her hand, and she drew a long, shaky breath.

  “We drove to Miller’s Point. It wasn’t the usual make-out place, but I wasn’t suspicious. I just figured, being an ‘experienced’ guy, he’d found a few places that were off the beaten path. I just didn’t realize how ‘experienced’ he was.”

  She swallowed convulsively, and Zach felt her muscles tense as she continued.

  “He had a bottle of wine in the car. I only had one glass, but it was my first experience with wine, so it didn’t take much to make me a little ‘floaty,’ you know? After the wine, he said he knew a great spot that overlooked the river, and would I like to sit there for a while and enjoy the view? I said yes.”

  She was starting to shake again, and Zach reached over and stroked her cheek, his eyes holding hers compellingly, reassuringly. “It’s okay, Rebecca. It happened a long time ago. It can only hurt you now if you let it.”

  “I know.” He was right. She had to get through this, deal with it once and for all, so she could move on. “For…for a few minutes it was fine. He kissed me, and it was…nice. But all of a sudden he got…he got really…aggressive. It was like he became a different person. His kisses weren’t…simple…anymore. They were…rough. I started to get scared, and I tried to pull away. But he pushed me down and just kind of fell across me. He was big…and…and strong. My arms were pinned down and I—I couldn’t move.”

  Her words were choppy now, her breathing uneven. Zach wanted to tell her to stop, to bury the terrible memories so deeply they would never resurface again. But he knew they would never be put to rest until she dealt with them. The best thing he could do for her was let her talk through the terror and remembered pain, until it no longer had the power to dominate her life. And so he remained silent, stroking her hand comfortingly as she spoke.

  “I had long hair, and he…he twisted it so I couldn’t move my head. The more I struggled, the harder he pulled.” She stopped and squeezed her eyes shut. A tear trailed down her cheek and she drew in a harsh breath. “I fought as much as I could, but it was useless. I tried to scream, but he never took his lips off of mine. There wouldn’t have been anyone to hear me, anyway. The only thing I could do was pray.

  “Then all of a sudden I felt him p-pulling up my dress, and I heard a zipper. I…I knew what he was planning to do. Oh, God!” She let out an anguished cry, and Zach pulled her close, his gut twisting painfully.

  “It’s okay, Rebecca. It’s okay,” he repeated helplessly, knowing it wasn’t but unable to find any adequate words of comfort. Her whole body was shaking, and he could feel her tears soaking through his cotton shirt. All he could do was hold her until she was ready to continue and try to control the rage that burned in his heart.

  After a couple of minutes, she drew in several ragged breaths and spoke again, her voice raw with pain, her fingers clutching his shirt convulsively. “I think I…I was hysterical by then, because I d-don’t even remember clearly what happened next. Except that out of the blue it started to rain. It was a downpour, as if the heavens had opened—almost like a miracle. In any case, it dampened his enthusiasm—and his determination. He took off for the car.

  “For the longest time I just lay there. I guess I was in shock or something. But finally I got up and stumbled back to the car. He was waiting for me, none too patiently, aggravated about his rented tux getting wet. He told me to get in. We were out in the middle of nowhere, and I guess I sensed that at that point it would be more dangerous to wander the back roads on foot in a storm than ride back to town with him. Besides, I could tell his ardor, if that’s what you’d call it, had cooled. So I got in and he took me home. Can you believe that he…he asked me out again, two weeks later?” she said brokenly, the tears still streaming down her face.

  Zach muttered another unflattering comment and pressed her cheek more closely to his chest. She could feel the hard, rapid thudding of his heart, could sense his anger in the rigid lines of his body. Oddly enough, her own simmering rage, so tightly coiled all these years, had eased.

  Finally Zach drew back slightly and cradled her tear-streaked face with his hands, his thumbs gently erasing the evidence of her tears. “Have you ever
told anyone about this, Rebecca?”

  “N-no.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I…I was too ashamed. I felt like maybe it was my fault, that I’d done something wrong, encouraged him in some way.”

  “You don’t still think that, do you?”

  She shook her head. “No. But it took me a long time to get past that. And I never did get over my fear of being alone with men. That’s why the few dates I went on turned into such disasters. I just assumed every time a man kissed me that it would evolve into an attack. I know that’s irrational, but I can’t seem to control the panic. It just…overwhelms me.”

  “Have you ever thought about counseling?”

  “Yes. But I—I’ve always been too embarrassed to talk about it. And I figured eventually I would get over it. Only…I never did.”

  He stroked her back in silence for a few seconds, then reached up and fingered a few loose tendrils that had worked free of her hairpins and now lay curled softly at her nape. “That’s why you always wear your hair up, isn’t it?” he asked with sudden insight. “Because he used your long hair against you that night.”

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Yes. I like long hair, but it seemed…safer…to wear it up. And this style suits my profession. But I let it down around family and close friends. Like…like you,” she said, her voice suddenly shy, her eyes downcast.

  He studied her for a moment, then decided to risk the question. “Is that all I am, Rebecca?” he asked softly. “A friend?”

  He felt a shudder run through her as she drew in a shaky breath. “I…I like you a lot, Zach,” she replied cautiously. “But I have a major problem with…with intimacy. I break into a cold sweat just thinking about it. Touching makes me feel fear, not desire. And no man’s ego can take that forever.” Her voice suddenly sounded resigned and defeated.