A Beautiful Taste

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A Beautiful Taste Page 8

by Lilliana Anderson


  I should have given him that five minutes. But I didn’t want to be the reason he was even later to work. I knew how important becoming a chef was to him.

  So I walked. I wrote a note that I left on his table–it was a simple ‘I love you!’–and I walked.

  I made it maybe a block away before I began to get this uneasy feeling. There was an old yellow Datsun that I was sure I’d already seen drive past me. It slowed down as it passed again, and I quickened my pace, my heart beating rapidly in my chest as fear sped up my breathing.

  When I was only two streets away from my home, they turned around again. I knew in the cold grip of fear in my heart what was about to happen to me. So I ran, knowing the distance wasn't great, praying that my legs could carry me. If I could just make it to that corner...If I could just run fast enough...

  I didn’t get far.

  Two men with those Scream masks jumped out of the backseat and grabbed me. I’d tried to fight and scream but they were too strong. I was no match. Then they punched me in the side of the head.

  As I retell the events of that night to Brad, I struggle to look him in the eye. This is so hard for me to recount, as I’d rather think that it didn’t happen at all. But there are times in the middle of the night that I still scream out, and it feels like that moment is never going to end.

  “The next thing I knew, I was waking in a hospital room with several broken bones after being severely beaten and…” I swallow hard. I don’t want to say the words. Brad reaches across the table and takes a hold of my hand. I can tell by his expression that he knows what I’m not willing to say.

  “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

  I swallow again, needing to continue, needing him to understand that I didn’t leave him. I didn’t cheat on him. “They…they said there was more than one who… who…” I close my eyes and push my way through the knowledge of what they’d done. “They took samples, and I had to go through all these tests. I didn’t remember anything but flashes, as I drifted in and out of consciousness, and I wasn’t any help. They couldn’t catch them. Their samples didn’t match anyone known and…” I let out my breath and wipe at the tear that’s fallen from my eye. “And they got away with it.”

  “I had no idea,” he breathes, looking as though he’s about to cry himself.

  “No one knew. I quit school, and I wouldn’t leave the house or talk to anyone. I was supposed to take tablets and go to these tests to make sure they didn’t give me anything…” I try to put it delicately. “That could transmitted in that way. But, I guess I was in denial, and then I waited too long. I didn’t want to know about any of it. I didn’t want to face what they’d done to me. And while they didn’t give me any diseases, they did get me pregnant. By the time I found out, I was already three months along, and it was too late to terminate. I’d tried to convince myself that maybe it was yours, maybe something happened, and it was your baby I was carrying. But I knew we’d been careful…so I kept hiding. I thought if I could just make it through, I could put the baby up for adoption and it’d all be over. I’d be free and I’d find you again and…” I shake my head, remembering the day I delivered Riley via C-section. “I’d been so sure I wanted to give him up, but toward the end of the pregnancy, when I could feel his movement, and his tiny hiccups in my belly, I began to wonder if I could give away half of me. Then when I had him, I looked down at his beautiful face, and his tiny hands and feet, and I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. Despite the circumstance behind his creation, he was innocent and he was mine. I couldn’t give him up, so I kept him. I named him, and I’ve spent the last six years, loving him with everything I have in me. And he’s healed me. It’s been hard. But he’s healed me. So much, that I finally feel brave enough to tell you what really happened.”

  Chapter 19

  Brad

  “She gave birth to her rapist’s baby?” Ruby asks, once I’ve recounted the details of Dakota’s story to her.

  I look at her and nod my head gravely before I lean forward and wipe my hands over my face.

  “I shouldn’t even be telling you this,” I moan. “I just don’t know what to do or how to react.” My stomach hurts just thinking about it. It’s so hard to wrap my head around, and I feel so much pain and guilt for the resentment I’ve held toward her over the years. I’d been so angry and disappointed that she’d left me that I’d been so focused on my own pain. I never once considered that something so horrible had happened to her. And now, I feel like a huge arsehole.

  “What did you say when she finished telling you?”

  Sitting back, I look at the ceiling and let out a sigh. “What could I say? I said I'm sorry that it happened to her. She kept apologising for not waiting for me, and I kept saying that it wasn’t her fault. She couldn’t have known that would happen to her. I asked her why she didn't tell me in the first place, and she simply said she couldn't stand knowing I was in as much pain as she was.”

  “Shit. Then what happened?”

  “She left. She said she just wanted to clear the air with me; said she’d see me when I cook for the night at the club then she left.”

  “I can’t believe she kept the kid. There aren’t a lot of women who could go through that and be strong enough to love the child.”

  “I know. I’m amazed. But then, she’s always been a special person.”

  “You know, she said the same thing about you earlier.”

  “She did?”

  “Yeah, I get the feeling she’s a little in love with you.”

  My chest aches when I think about all the years and the pain she’s had to go through on her own. I take a deep breath to keep a hold of my emotions.

  “How do you feel about her?”

  I close my eyes and picture her through the years before opening them again and looking over at Ruby. “The same way I always have.”

  “Then make sure you take things really slow.”

  ***

  Dakota

  “Did you tell him?” Stacy asks, when I get back to her place to pick up Riley. I’d left him with her, because I didn’t want my parents knowing where I was going. They like to pretend the attack on me never happened. I think it’s the only way they can reconcile the fact I kept Riley. Forgetting, for them, is the only way they can look at him as their grandson and feel the love for him they need to get by. And I understand that. For me, I can’t escape what happened because it’s what my nightmares are made of. But I can still look at Riley and see him as my son and mine alone. As far as I’m concerned, a seed is just a seed–it’s the conditions and the care that make it grow into strong tree.

  “I did,” I say, sitting across from her while looking outside to where Riley is running around in her backyard with her German Shepard pup.

  “How did he react? I want to know whether I should give you a shot of tequila or a coffee.”

  I smile, feeling a little numb after retelling the story. It doesn’t get easier. Each time is as hard as the last.

  “He reacted how I expected him to react. At first he thought that Riley might have been his. Then he wanted to know who the father was. I could tell he was trying to control himself. He thought I’d slept with someone else. Then I told him what really happened and…and he looked as though he was in pain. He just kept saying sorry like he could have stopped it.” Tears start spilling down my cheeks as I picture the tortured look of anguish on his face and in his eyes. “It was more than I could bear, and as soon as I finished telling him, I booked it out of there so fast.”

  “Oh, honey,” she says sympathetically, as I sit in front of her and cry and sniffle. She hands me a box of Kleenex. “I know how hard this was for you.”

  I nod. “I’d wanted to tell him in a public place because I didn’t want to break down crying. But god, it was so hard–harder than I thought it was going to be. Maybe it would have been better if I just left it. I don’t know.”

  “Do you really believe that? Do you really think you co
uld have gone the rest of your life without trying to work things out with Brad?”

  “It’s been so long…” I start.

  “And he still looks at you the same way he did all those years ago. You didn’t see him at the reunion with my eyes–when he thought Riley was the man in your life, he looked like someone hand punched him in the gut. You still have a chance to make your life the way you wanted it to be. True love never dies, you know.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “And you’re the expert on this are you? So you know it when you see it.”

  “Of course,” she answers with a straight face. “I’ve seen The Princess Bride at least a hundred times. Brad is totally your Westley–time, nor a fire swamp filled with rodents of unusual size could stop him. Just wait and see.”

  I dry my eyes as a smile plays on my lips. Then we look at each other, and at the same time we both yell, “As! You! Wish!” Then we both dissolve into fits of laughter. And just like that, my best friend has done what she does best–she said exactly the right thing to make me feel so much better.

  Chapter 20

  Brad

  Two days later, I had to travel to London to do a guest position at a big celebrity chef’s restaurant.

  Making contacts and expanding my industry knowledge base is part of my job, and cooking with some of the best in the business is one of the best ways to keep Quay one of the most sought after dining locations in Australia.

  I used to date a girl who works for Voyeur magazine. She’s currently their foreign correspondent, as she travels the world with her partner, and Aussie movie star export, Jonathan Masters. They were recently in London for a film, and Sandra recommended me to a chef she was talking to. One thing led to another, and my stay was booked meaning the interest in my cooking and me as a chef, grew. Because of that, I now have a regular feature in Voyeur, where I share one of my favourite recipes for home cooks to try out.

  There was part of me that wanted to call the trip off. But, after talking over everything with Ruby, I came to the realisation that taking a couple of weeks to get over the shock of what had happened to Dakota is probably a good thing. I need to take things slow with her and follow her cues. If anything is ever going to happen between us again then I need to make sure that it’s exactly what Dakota wants, and that it’s all on her terms and her timeline.

  I texted her and told her that I’d be out of town and hoped we could talk again when I got back, and she’d texted to say she’d see me when I worked the kitchen at the kayaking club. I don’t know whether to be encouraged or disappointed by that response, but I feel that I should just play it by ear. In my heart I want for us to be together–the way we should have been back then. My heart only feels alive whenever I’m around her. It’s always been that way, and I’ve already waited a decade. I can stand to wait a little longer–time gives us perspective.

  ***

  Dakota

  “Jeez, who knew that Bradley boy was such a good cook,” dad says, as we stand outside the function room. We’re collecting tickets and handing out printed menus for the evening’s stomach filling entertainment. We have all of the kayaking kids here acting as waiters.

  I’m yet to lay eyes on Brad. He met mum here yesterday to see the kitchen so he knew where everything was, but I wasn’t working, so I missed him. He did call me afterward though, and it was wonderful to hear his voice rumbling through the phone. We talked about his trip to London, and he asked how I was and even how Riley was. It was so normal, which may not sound super romantic, but to me, it was everything. There was a comfort between us, even after all our years apart, that left me smiling all night and has meant that I feel eager right now. I want to see him. I want the life back that was cruelly taken from me. I’m ready. It’s taken seven years, well, ten from the first moment we saw each other, but I’m ready. I'm ready.

  “He’s one of the top chefs in the country, dad.”

  “He is? But he’s not very big. You know what they say about skinny chefs.”

  I laugh and turn my attention toward another guest, as I check their ticket and get one of the kayakers to take them to their table.

  “I’m sure he works out, dad.”

  “Don’t know why he quit paddling then. Would have kept in him great shape.”

  I shrug, knowing he quit not long after everything that happened with me. From what Stacey had told me, one of the other guys had said something lewd about me, and Brad had flipped out and attacked him, telling him to take the comment back. He wouldn’t and began to spout falsities regarding my character, saying that I was a ‘known slut who loved nothing more than being on her knees’. It took Elliot and two others to pry Brad off him.

  “You suspended him for fighting not long before he quit, remember?” I remind my father, and he rocks back on his heels, his hands tucked into his pants pockets.

  “Oh yeah, he was tearing into one of the others over a girl. How did I manage to forget that?”

  “It’s been a long time,” I reply, knowing that he chooses not to remember because, he has a mind block in place concerning that period of our lives. A father’s anguish over not being able to protect his daughter was almost too much for him to cope with. He’d gone through a phase where he’d wanted to sell everything and move away to put this all behind us. But even I didn’t want that. The kayaking club had been his life’s work, and it was where all of my best memories were. We couldn’t let a group of cowardly thugs take that away from us. So we stayed on.

  “I suppose it has,” he says, turning toward me and giving me a small smile. There’s a sadness in his eyes, and I know he’s just remembered that time.

  I reach over and squeeze his hand. “Looks like everyone who’s coming is here. You want to go in and do your whole ‘thanks for supporting the club’ spiel?”

  “Sure, princess. Are you OK finishing up out here?”

  “I’m fine. I’ll get some of the kids to help pack this up for me then I’ll meet you in there.”

  Once we’re done, I make my way into the kitchen, where my mother is giving all the paddlers who are helping us tonight a pep talk on how they’re to conduct themselves. They all stand around looking as interested as teenage boys and girls can, and as I look through the gaps in the stainless steel shelving of the serving area, I can see Brad in there with our regular kitchen stuff. His head is down as he flips something about in a large frying pan. It smells amazing, and I find myself getting lost just watching him work.

  He turns to reach for something and somehow, he looks up and catches my eye. A smile spreads across his lips, and I lift my hand to wave, laughing at myself because he’s making me feel like a kid again. I signal that I’ll see him later and he nods, giving me a wink before he throws out some instructions to the staff and continues to prepare the meal for the packed dining room.

  Chapter 21

  Dakota

  Stolen glances. Secret smiles. Meaningful looks. This is what makes up my evening. It feels like it always did and sets my heart fluttering in my chest. It’s the best night I’ve ever spent at work.

  As hard as it was to tell Brad what really happened to me all those years ago, I’m so glad I did. It’s this horrible weight that’s been hanging around my shoulders and holding me back from where I’m supposed to be. But not anymore. Not now. Now I can finally move forward.

  “Did you get a chance to eat?” Brad asks, as he sees me walk into the kitchen after everyone else has finished for the night. We’ve both purposefully stayed behind, helping out the cleaning crew after all the guests have cleared out, and even mum and dad have gone. Although, my mother hesitated slightly and told me to be careful, because she doesn’t ‘want to see me getting hurt’. I assured her I’d be fine. But mother’s sense things. I noticed her looking between Brad and me with worry in her eyes.

  I reach the place where Brad’s standing before I answer. “I ate before I came tonight. I’m glad I did. The food smelled so wonderful that I may have stolen someone’s plate.�
��

  “I saved you some dessert if you’d like some.” There’s a glint in his eye, as he tilts his head in question. My eyes drift down to his lips where his piercing used to be. I miss that piercing.

  I wonder if he notices me looking, because he pulls his lip into his mouth like he used to when the ring was there. It’s still just as sexy.

  “I’d love some dessert.”

  He smiles and leans down, producing a foil covered plate with a slice of decadent looking chocolate and sour cherry cake.

  “I had to hide it,” he explains, as he balls the foil up and throws it toward the bins. He gets it in easily.

  “I’m honoured. Will you share it with me?”

  He nods, his eyes smiling as I move to the freezer and pull out the tub of ice-cream we served with it earlier.

  “Did you make this too?”

  “No. My sous chef made that. It’s the best vanilla ice-cream I’ve ever tasted, and I’ve travelled a lot so…”

  He hands me a spoon, and I scoop out a blob of ice cream then lick the spoon as I replace the lid. My eyes go wide.

  “Wow.”

  He smiles. “Right?” He uses his spoon to break the corner off the cake. “Now try this.”

  I lean forward, opening my mouth as he raises the spoon to my lips. I close my eyes as I slowly suck the cake off the spoon, savouring the decadent chocolate and cherry taste as it melts over my tongue and explodes within my mouth. “Mmmmm,” I moan. “That’s the best cake I’ve ever eaten. And I’ve eaten a lot, so…”

  He chuckles, and I smile.

  “This is nice,” I comment, after we’ve taken a few bites in comfortable silence.

  “It is,” he responds, as he places his spoon on the almost empty plate. “Would you like to take that walk again? I promise not to take off in a jealous huff this time.” ”

 

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