by Dara Girard
“I thought you—” Adrian stopped when Ken pressed a finger to his lips. He rested his head against the door as if listening for something then pushed himself away. “Go on,” he said.
Adrian glanced at the door. “You told her nothing happened.”
Ken sat down, running a hand through his hair. “She doesn’t remember anything. I don’t want her to feel bad.”
“But you—”
He held up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t take advantage of her.”
“You said she was scary.”
“Yes, she was.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “She comes on to me, right? And I’m thinking Obrigado, Deus, I’m going to get lucky tonight. We have fun. Drink a little, okay more than a little, make out and I’m ready to slide to home base when she asks me, ‘Do you like doggy style?’ and I’m like ‘Sure’ and then you know what she does?”
Adrian folded his arms. “Asks for a dog collar?”
“No, worse. She strips down naked, gets down on all fours and starts howling like she’s a wolf or something. And she starts rubbing her head against my leg, asking me to stroke her.”
“And you do?”
“Sure, if that turns her on, I’m fine with it, but then she scratches me, jumps on top of me and passes out.”
“You’re right,” Adrian said with a laugh. “She’s scary. Fortunately, Caryn isn’t.”
Ken waved his finger in warning. “But her mother may be.”
“I met her mother at the wedding. She seemed all right.”
“So did this girl. You never know until you get people behind closed doors. You’ve got to find out what’s got your mother so worried. Caryn is hiding something big about her mother. You love her, right?”
“Of course.”
Ken held out his hands. “If you want to cook in the kitchen, you can’t be afraid of the flames.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
Caryn looked down at the image of an emaciated three year old with sad brown eyes.
“His mother wanted you to see this again,” her aunt said. “In case you’ve forgotten.”
She pushed the picture back across her office table. Her office was located in the walk-out basement of her townhouse and was already considering keeping it while renting the upstairs living area when she moved in with Adrian. At first she’d been pleased to have her aunt stop by for lunch so that she could share her plans, until her aunt made clear the true reason why she’d wanted to see her.
Barbara tapped the photo. “Doesn’t this boy have a right to a happy future?”
“He’s happy with me.” Although Adrian had been busier than usual over the past several days, Caryn brushed aside her concern.
“For how long?” her aunt pressed. “He’s not strong. He still fears enclosed spaces. You need a strong, stable man you can depend on. You’re two broken people. How can you hope to have a healthy relationship for years to come? You grew up in a garbage heap and he was kidnapped and left in a box. You both don’t have the tools to recognize what normal really is.”
“Yes we do.”
“It isn’t normal to fall in love with someone after one kiss. It isn’t normal to agree to marry only after a few months. It isn’t normal to see someone eight years later and rush into each other’s arms as if nothing has happened. And forgive me for being so plain, but I don’t care how good the sex is, you’re both not thinking with the right organ. You’re both damaged—”
Caryn’s brows shot up. “Damaged?”
“That was the wrong choice of words.”
“But that’s how you feel.”
Barbara glanced at one of the framed testimonials from one of Caryn’s satisfied customers that decorated the wall. “I’ll be honest, I expected more from you. Considering his upbringing, his rash behavior is to be expected, but you…” She turned to her. “Are you going to throw away all that I’ve taught you?”
“No, my eyes are wide open.”
“You’re more fragile than you think, and need someone whose background—”
“Is better than mine, right? Because my history is so tainted and foul I need someone with a sterling background to clean it.”
“What will he do when your mother has another major episode? What about your sister? Do you know what the future holds for her? What will you do if the stress of your family causes him to leave you with a child or two to raise?”
“I’m not my mother.”
“It’s in our lowest moments when we face our true selves. Neither of you have had to face a crisis together. Everything may seem so right now, but he’s not the only man out there for you.”
“Yes, he is.”
“You say you’re not like your mother, then why are you being selfish like her? Why are you considering no one else’s feelings but your own?”
“Is it wrong for me to be happy?”
“At what price? He doesn’t need you. Look at what he became without you in his life. Do you really think he could have achieved all this success if you’d gotten married all those years ago? I don’t mean to be cruel, but you need him more than he could ever need you. You’re not the only woman alive who can make him happy. You knew that years ago and you must remember it now.” She held up the photograph. “When you hold on too tight to something you can squeeze the life out of it. If nothing else, your mother must have taught you that.” Barbara set the photo on the table and slide it in front of Caryn again. “If you truly love him, you will let him go.”
Let go. Let go. Let go. The words echoed in her mind even as she lay in Adrian’s arms. Was she being selfish? Was she being arrogant? She’d held her resolve until her aunt left. Then stared at the picture of the little boy Adrian had been, and burst into tears just as she had years ago when she’d first seen it. He had suffered and she never wanted him to suffer again, but she didn’t want to let go. She wanted them to stay together.
“What are you hiding from me?” Adrian said, his voice a low rumble in his chest.
A shiver of panic raced through her. Why would he ask that? “Nothing. Why would I be hiding anything?”
He fell silent then said, “I’m going to ask you again. What are you hiding from me?” When she didn’t reply he said, “Why didn’t you tell me you spoke to my mother the day before the wedding? You didn’t mention that in your note.”
How had he found out? “She wasn’t the one who convinced me.”
“How about your aunt?”
She flattened her hand against his chest. “If you want to blame someone blame me.”
“Not the mental illness?”
Caryn froze. “What are you talking about?”
“Monica said it runs in your family.”
How much did he know? “Yes, a form of it does.”
“And you didn’t want to tell me this?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Everything happened so fast.”
“That was then. How about now?”
Her throat turned dry, she couldn’t read his tone. “I didn’t want it to get in the way.”
Her phone rang. She felt him laugh. “Saved by the bell again.”
Caryn picked up her phone, but instead of a sense of relief she felt a growing dread. “Roland, can I—”
“I can’t get a hold of Mom. Can you go and check on her?”
Caryn checked the time. “Fine, tomorrow I’ll—”
“You need to go right now. Something isn’t right. I would do it, but you’re closer.”
“She’s probably fine and doesn’t want to pick up the phone.”
“It’s been three days.”
Damn. “Okay.” She hung up.
“What is it?” Adrian asked, searching her face.
Caryn stood and started to change, the sense of looming dread thickening. “I have to go check in on my mom. My brother’s worried.”
“I’ll drive you there.”
“No, you don’t have to. I—”
His cutting glance stopped her words. “I think it’s time I see the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Caryn looked at the two-story house then turned away as Adrian parked his car in the driveway. “She’s alright, I’m sure she’s all right. I shouldn’t have to do this.”
He shut off the engine. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything will be fine. Why did he have to worry so much?” She closed her eyes and saw piles of debris, items stacked to the ceiling. She couldn’t breathe. She saw little Brandon hanging by a rope in his bedroom and…
“Caryn,” Adrian said, her name a sharp command.
She opened her eyes.
“What happened in that house?”
Too much. It was all too much. Too much stuff, too much need, too little love. “I’m sorry I asked you to come.”
“You didn’t ask me. You didn’t have a choice. You still don’t.” He unbuckled his seatbelt.
She grabbed his arm before he could open the door. “I don’t want you to see.”
“What?”
“If you go in there, it will end things between us.”
He shook his head. “No, it won’t.”
“You’ll see it’s all a lie. I’m a lie.”
“I doubt that.” He opened the car door and got out.
Caryn followed. “You’re going to see what I could become. Maybe who I am deep down.”
He closed the car door and locked it. “Caryn—”
“You’ll meet my mother.”
“I met her at the wedding.”
“No, you didn’t meet the real her. She looks normal but…that house.” Caryn looked at the seemingly harmless structure noticing the new white rose bushes which joined the purple azaleas and pink peonies along the trim. “It’s filled with trash. It’s stacked to the ceiling with stuff. And she won’t notice. She’ll have cleared a path for you and you’ll have to pretend that you’re not afraid that one of the piles won’t dislodge and topple on you. And you’ll ignore the dust and the cobwebs. But you won’t be able to, because to you it will be a small crowded space like a tomb. If you could look through the windows, I’d let you, but you can’t. So this has to be as far as you go. Stay here.” She walked up to the front door.
He followed her. “No.”
“You can’t come in.”
“I have to see.”
“You don’t like small places and—”
“I’ll be fine. Let’s go.”
“Adrian.”
“You can fight me, but you’ll still lose.”
Caryn silently swore then knocked on the door and rang the doorbell. She waited a few minutes, knowing it would take her mother that long to reach the front door, but when nothing happened she pulled out her key and opened the door as wide as she could. At least her mother hadn’t completely blocked the entryway as many hoarders did, but she still could barely squeeze through. Caryn turned to Adrian in one last desperate attempt to keep him out. “You see this? This is the cleanliest part. So just peek through, you don’t need to come in. Stay here.”
“You think you’re mother’s hurt, right?”
“It’s possible.”
“And you want me to stay out here and do nothing?”
“Yes, just give me a few minutes.”
His flat gaze made it clear he planned to do nothing of the sort.
She sighed then walked further inside. “Follow closely behind me, don’t step anywhere I don’t. Don’t touch anything either, okay?”
He nodded.
Caryn climbed over the pile of clothes, old wrapping and newspapers, then crawled into another room. “Mom?” When she didn’t hear a reply she went further inside the maze. She turned to Adrian, trying not to notice how his breathing had become more labored, or the sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. “You’ve seen more than enough. Go back.”
He swallowed, wiping his forehead. “I won’t leave you,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll help you find her.”
Caryn walked up the stairs and called her mother’s name again. “Mom.” She started to grow panicked as she entered several rooms and saw nothing, trying to assess each mountain of stuff to see if anything had shifted out of place. Could her mother be under it? Then she heard a noise, the sound of water. She opened the bathroom door and found her mother lazing in the bathtub. She stared at her stunned. Her mother hadn’t taken a bath in years. She’d never had the room.
Her mother looked up at her and screamed, covering herself. “What are you doing!”
“I thought something was wrong,” Caryn said, angered that she’d been worried for nothing.
“What could be wrong?”
“Roland’s been trying to reach you.”
“I must have turned the phone off. I was working on cleaning things up.” She gestured to the room, which could pass for a linen closet with all the towels, sheets and bedding that cluttered it. “Aren’t you impressed? I couldn’t take a bath before and I wanted to treat myself. There’s no reason to worry about me.”
The sound of a loud crash interrupted Caryn’s reply.
“What was that?” her mother demanded, grabbing a robe.
Caryn felt her heart leap into her throat. Adrian. She’d forgotten about him. She scrambled out of the room calling his name. “Adrian!” She searched the top floor then made her way downstairs to the main floor calling his name until her voice grew hoarse.
She didn’t get a reply, then stopped when she saw one of the towers gone, scattered on the ground.
Beneath it she saw a hand.
Chapter Twenty-Six
She began to dig. “Mom! Help me please.” He was being crushed to death. Maybe he already was…no she wouldn’t believe it. She had to reach him; she had to get him out.
“Stop doing that,” her mother snapped. “You’re making it worse. Look, my porcelain doll,” her voice dropped to a whimper, “it got broken.”
“Mom, you need to focus.”
“Don’t shout at me.”
Caryn held out her mobile phone. “Call 911.”
Her mother stared down at the object as if it were foreign to her. “Why?”
Caryn continued to dig. “We need the fire department.”
“I don’t want them in my house.”
“Mom, we can’t—”
“This is all your fault. You shouldn’t have brought a stranger into my house.”
Caryn heard a moan, saw a finger flicker. “Stay still, Adrian,” she said in a soothing tone. “We’ll get you out. Mom, call the police. Now!”
Her mother reached down and started to move items. “No, we can do this ourselves.”
“You’re making it worse.”
“No, I’m not. I’m helping you.”
Caryn shook her mobile at her. “Call them.”
Her mother glanced down at her robe. “I’m not dressed for visitors.”
“Mom! Call 911.”
“No, they’ll force me out of my home. They tried to last time—”
Caryn glared at her, her tone tinged with acid. “Call them now, or I swear I’ll smash everything I see.”
Her mother took her mobile phone and started to dial.
Caryn heard Adrian moan again. She bent down and saw a small pocket where some air could reach him. “Help is coming.”
“I can’t breathe.”
“Yes, you can. I’m here. We’ll get you out.” He couldn’t panic; that would make things worse. She took his hand and held it between hers. His beautiful large hand. A hand that had caressed her cheek and slid a ring of promise on her finger. She held his hand, wishing she had the strength to pull him free. “They’re coming.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, don’t speak. You didn’t do anything wrong.” She felt his grip growing weak and she fought to push away the image of the three year old with the sad brown eyes who’d been trapped in the box; her aunt’s harsh words, You need him more than he could ever need you; her friend’
s accusation that she was a thinking with her heart instead of her head. She held his hand, rigidly holding back tears and the wave of misery that threatened to consume her. “They’re coming. Oh they’re here,” she lied. “I think I hear them outside. It will take some time for them to organize how to free you, so just be patient. They have to be careful, but don’t worry, they’ll get to you and you’ll soon be free.” And as she continued to hold his hand, she knew that she would eventually have to let him go.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“You nearly killed my son.”
Monica held her mother back, afraid she would attack Caryn when she saw her in the waiting room. “Mom—”
“I’m sorry,” Caryn said, her face a mask of misery. “It was an accident.”
Hazel bared her teeth. “I want you to stay away from my family. You should have stayed away when I told you to.” She motioned down the corridor. “My son has a punctured lung, a broken clavicle and possibly a fractured skull. Why did you have to take him inside that house of horrors? What did you have to prove?”
“I’m truly sorry.”
Hazel lowered her voice. “Show me that you mean it and get out of my sight.”
Caryn balled her hands into fists, took a deep breath, then nodded. “Okay,” she said then left.
“Mom, she’s worried as much as we are.”
Hazel fell into a chair, tears blinding her. “You keep that woman away from my son.”
Monica rested her arm around her shoulders. “He’s going to want to see her.”
“Then lie. Tell him that she ran away again, she did it before. He’ll believe you.”
“He’s hurting enough, Mom. I can’t hurt him like that again.”
Hazel squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m glad your father isn’t here to see this. To see his son’s greatest fear of being buried alive come true.”
“But he survived it.”
Hazel glared at her daughter. “It shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have been there.”