So I will write the story of our love. I will retrace our words and fill these pages with everything I have, until there is none of me left. And maybe then we can be together again.
- To Jacob, for awakening my soul -
- To Helen, for allowing me to come back where it began -
There were more words. So many words. Poems, love letters, musings. Thomas read them all until he felt them as if they were his own. He let the words cut him deep as they were meant to. He read them over and over until they were a part of him, in his bones.
Chapter 9
Cassidy
Wednesday, 17 November 1942
My Darling Cassidy,
I received another letter from you today. I cannot express the way your words fill my heart with joy. Your words are all that sustain me. I can feel the caress of your voice in each sentence. Please continue to write. If we don’t I fear we will not know each other when I return. And nothing scares me more. Our words are so important. We found each other through them. And I know they will bring me back to you again.
Today the sky was full of planes. From horizon to horizon they blot out the sun and their droning shakes the world. But at least as we take cover, I have time to write. I try to imagine the roar of the engines as the thunder of my heart the first time I laid eyes on you. You are a true beauty. Everyone here agrees. I’ve shown your photo to some of the men. Please don’t be mad. We need some brightness to distract us from the miles of foxholes and trenches.
I won’t frighten you with the details of battle. I will only tell you how much I love you and that you are always on my mind. Each new day is a day closer to my return. I will come back to you my angel, of that you can be sure. And we’ll share the adventure of our love. Better times are coming, Cassidy. Yet I already know how blessed I am to have shared any time with you at all. Hold on to our love. It holds all the strength we need.
Your Jacob
Cassidy wiped the tears from her face, drying her hands before loading a new page into her typewriter.
“You lied, Jacob” she whispered. “You said you’d come back. You said if we loved each other with all our hearts it would be enough . . . but it’s not. I can’t be here without you. I’m not strong enough.”
She gave in to the choking sobs that gripped her throat, letting the stinging tears fall freely. Writing her memoir was proving to be much harder than Cassidy anticipated. It was as if the typewriter ribbon was soaked in her blood, rather than ink. She reread the words she’d bled onto the page. Not good enough! It would never be good enough. Why did she think she could do this?
Jacob. That’s why. Since the day he found out she’d dreamt of being a writer he’d encouraged her with every breath. He’d believed in her so much that she started to believe too. But she had no talent—only raw broken emotion trapped in letters. And they weren’t enough. No matter how she compiled them, they didn’t add up to the sum of their love. They couldn’t recreate what she had lost.
It didn’t matter anyway. Her plan was stupid. She was a woman. Not a writer. A nobody, from a nobody town, and now without Jacob, she was never going to get out. No one would ever read her words, no one would remember her. And worst of all, her love for Jacob would be forgotten as quickly as she would.
No! her heart screamed. You will make them remember. You will demand they listen. Each beat of her heart pounded out the injustice. Write. Your. Story.
Cassidy steeled herself. She looked in the mirror. God, she was a shadow of herself. Jacob would be rolling in his grave if he saw her now. But she wouldn’t let him down. She would write their love story no matter how hard it was.
She knew that meant she had to tell the whole story. So she tightened her confiscated robe and headed downstairs to find the pages she’d thrown out earlier. Maybe the words weren’t perfect, but they were true.
Panic turned to rage as Cassidy sifted through the trash bin in the kitchen. Her pages were gone. How the hell could that be? The bin was still partly full, so it hadn’t been emptied. A furious new piano melody drifted from Thomas’s room and Cassidy whirled around. He wouldn’t!
She marched to his room and flung open his door, ignoring the DO NOT DISTURB sign he had the nerve to hang outside.
“Where are my pages?” she demanded.
His playing faltered as he turned his head to take her in. He looked startled, guilty. But he played on, gesturing with his chin to the ON AIR sign glowing above his piano. But she didn’t give a damn about his radio show. Let him get fired for all she cared.
A wicked thought curled through her mind like smoke. Maybe Thomas getting fired would be the best thing she could hope for. Then he’d be out of her hair and she’d have the house to herself again.
She steeled her nerves and untied her robe, slinking over to him. She sat down on the smooth piano bench next to Thomas, letting his warmth seep into her as she slid close enough to touch him. He jumped, glancing at her cautiously. Cassidy had always been acutely aware of her sex appeal.
Her stepfather had forced her to endure years of torment, always touching and teasing her in ways he shouldn’t. His touches lingering too long, his caresses too intimate, his kisses possessive. His unwanted attention had been Cassidy’s catalyst to stop trying to look beautiful. It had also hardened her heart and worn away the inherent trust she’d been born with.
Yes, she’d endured her fair share of unwanted attention. Now it was her turn to return the favor.
Cassidy slid her slender hand onto Thomas’s lap. He jumped violently at her touch, banging his knee and missing the piano keys. His eyes were wide as he mouthed the word, STOP.
She smiled sweetly and straddled the bench, shrugging off the robe. She moved closer, until the inside of her thighs rubbed against him. Again she slid her hand onto his lap. Moments ago, where he’d been soft, a riotous hardness pressed back into her hand. She gripped it and squeezed letting out a moan.
Thomas slammed the keys so hard it sounded like thunder vibrating through her. “Please stop,” he whispered.
“Why? You know you want me,” she purred, releasing him only to slide the thin straps of her nightgown down her shoulders until it pooled around her waist, baring her full breasts to him.
Thomas grabbed the microphone. “Thank you for tuning into WOR!” His voice cracked as he quickly signed off. He rushed to flip off switches and dials and when he finished he whirled around to face Cassidy. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Seducing you so you get fired.” She smirked without shame.
“This isn’t a game, Cassidy!”
“Isn’t it?” She stood up letting her gown fall to the floor. “This is what you want, isn’t it? It’s okay to admit it. It’s what all men want.” She moved closer, stroking a hand from his throat to his now restless erection.
Thomas’s breath hitched when Cassidy grabbed the hem of his shirt. Her delicate hands running up his chest as she gathered his shirt and pulled it over his head. A battlefield of scars made her pause. His chest was a masterpiece of thin white scars crisscrossing his toned muscles. It was her turn to loose her breath. Their eyes met, and Thomas must have seen something he didn’t like. He grabbed his shirt and her nightgown, tossing it at her. “Get dressed. I’m not what you want.”
“And how would you know what I want?” she asked as she dressed.
“Because I’m not Jacob.”
Ice sizzled in her veins as Cassidy stared at Thomas. “What did you just say?”
“I’m guessing you barged in here looking for these?” he replied holding up her papers. “It’s a true story, isn’t it? Jacob is real. And you loved him.”
Wild hatred bloomed in her steel blue eyes. “Give them to me,” she hissed.
“You threw them away.”
“That doesn’t give you the right to steal them!”
He laughed. “And what gives you the right to come in here and sabotage my show?”
“Because you’re not supposed to
be here!”
“Well, I think you’re just going to have to deal with it.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because I don’t think you’re supposed to be here either.”
“Oh really? Why’s that?”
“Do you really not remember what you wrote? It’s all right here,” he yelled waving the pages. “His sister tells you when these places aren’t occupied.”
Cassidy’s face paled.
“Do you even have a home?”
“Of course!” she barked.
“Well that’s a surprise. Because from the state I found you in I wouldn’t be shocked to find you live on the street.”
“You don’t know anything about me!”
“I know you’ve been wearing summer clothes and my bathrobe since I got here. I know when I cleaned you up you had dirt on your face and under your nails. I know you reek of gin and it looks like you haven’t had a real meal in weeks.”
“My drinking habit is none of your concern. I have clothes! And it wasn’t dirt you fool! It’s ink!” she yelled holding up her stained fingers. “From the manuscript that you stole! Now give it back.”
“What are you going to do with it?”
“It’s none of your business.”
Thomas held the papers out to Cassidy and she lunged forward to grab them, but he didn’t let go. Their eyes met again. “Your writing is good,” he said softly. Cassidy only tugged harder. “Probably one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever read,” Thomas added, staring down at the paper like it pained him to let it go. But finally, he did.
Cassidy clutched the papers to her chest, sending Thomas a seething glare before marching from his room. She slammed the door so hard her teeth rattled.
Chapter 10
Thomas
Thomas called after her. “I’m not leaving!”
“Neither am I,” Cassidy shouted back.
Despite his raging temper, Thomas couldn’t fight the grin that slid into place. Cassidy had just tried to sabotage his radio show. He should be calling the rental company this instant to get her kicked out of this place. But all he could manage to do was envision her passionate words and her flawless body.
He tried to collect himself, but the image of Cassidy’s naked body kept stroking his mind. It was burned into his memory and there was nothing he could do about it. Not that he wanted to. She was so extraordinarily beautiful. Not to mention extremely volatile, but in a way that only added to the wildness of her beauty.
What a fool! Cassidy had practically offered herself to him. Thomas would have to be completely insane for passing up the opportunity to be with a woman like Cassidy. Hell, any woman! He was the only twenty-six year old he knew who hadn’t so much as kissed a woman before. Not that he hadn’t wanted to plenty of times. But before his job at the station, he’d lived so far out in the country that the only other woman he ever saw was his mother. And now, thanks to his scars, no woman in her right mind wanted to kiss him. He didn’t blame them. The scars were hard to see past. But for a flickering moment, when Cassidy had looked at him, hungrily sizing him up in whatever twisted game she was playing, he swore she’d seen him. Not the scars, but him. The man he was, the hopes and dreams that he buried under all that pain.
Try as he might, Thomas couldn’t play a thing for the rest of the day. He gave up and went to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. Staring out at the lonely lake, he ate his meal in silence. The landscape that had once seemed peaceful to him now looked wild. He scrubbed his face with rough hands wondering if the weather was changing or maybe it was just the spell Cassidy had put him under.
Guilt ate at Thomas turning his delicious dinner into ash in his mouth. He begrudgingly made up a plate for Cassidy—a peace offering. He’d been wrong to take her pages. He’d known it from the start. And he wasn’t too proud to admit it. If they were going to have to share this space for a month he needed to try to smooth things over.
He trudged up the steep stairs to the attic, carrying a plate piled high with a baked potato, green beans and a piece of the buttery baked trout. The staircase ended at a tiny landing with only one door to choose from. He knocked lightly. No response. He knocked again. “Cassidy?”
The door swung open violently, nearly causing him to stumble into the tiny attic bedroom.
“What do you want?”
He blinked as the light spilled into the dark landing, momentarily blinding him. Cassidy stood before him, dressed in a fitted green sweater and a navy skirt made of fine wool. Thomas noted it was almost the exact color of her eyes. So she had clothes indeed.
“Did you come up here to stare at me or did you plan to steal something else of mine?” she seethed crossing her arms over her perky breasts. Breasts he couldn’t stop thinking about.
“No. I . . . I wanted to apologize for today. I was wrong. I got caught up in how lovely your words were and I didn’t want them to be thrown away.”
“Well that’s not up to you.”
“I know. I’m sorry.” He pushed the plate he’d almost forgotten he was holding under her nose. “Truce.”
She sniffed and turned her nose up at the food, but she grabbed the plate. Thomas watched as she took a step back, holding the plate out at arms length before turning it so the contents cascaded into the wastebasket next to her desk. She smiled angelically and handed the empty plate back. “No, thanks. I decide what’s trash.” Then she shut the door in his face.
Chapter 11
Cassidy
Cassidy quickly tired of typing. Her head throbbed from too much gin and she couldn’t concentrate with the smell of food filling her room. Her stomach rumbled. The gin could only get her so far. Especially when the temptation of a hot meal was so close. Well, it used to be hot. Cassidy glanced at her door, double-checking it was still locked before she dropped to her knees and scrounged through the wastebasket. She imagined what she must look like scavenging through her own trash and was reminded of Thomas’s words. She probably did resemble a street urchin more than a civilized lady. But what did it matter? She cursed her stubbornness as she separated the food from the papers and ink. She collected what food she could, serving it on a blank page. She took a bite of the fish and her jaw clenched from the impact of flavor.
She savored each bite while she reflected on her conversation with Thomas. He hadn’t been too far off when he called her homeless. Cassidy hadn’t seen her family in years. She was the only child of Libby and Monroe Clark. But her father left when she was five. She barely remembered him. What she did remember was how they struggled. Her mother worked odd jobs to make ends meet but it was never enough. Cassidy had to work too. She got a job with her mother at a textile mill sewing buttons when she was eight. She even taught herself how to hunt, shooting small game to add to their meager stew. But all of that changed overnight when Cassidy’s mother met Raymond Stone. They barely courted before they married and moved into his well-appointed home. That’s when Cassidy’s troubles began. She was barely ten the first time Raymond molested her. He stole parts of her that she would never get back. And she did her best to keep him at bay, but there were times, too many times, when there was nothing she could do.
Cassidy got away from them the first chance she had. She moved out of Raymond’s house when Jacob proposed. And she stayed with Jacob’s mother and sister when he went off to war. But since the day they received news that he wouldn’t be returning, she felt like an intruder. She wasn’t a part of their family and she never would be. She didn’t belong there. She didn’t belong anywhere. Jacob’s sister, Helen, begged Cassidy to stay, saying she was family. But Cassidy couldn’t. It was too painful. And she’d already made up her mind about what she was going to do. She didn’t want to cause Helen and Jacob’s mother any more pain.
She convinced herself she’d be fine on her own. She had plenty of things and clothes. Fine clothes actually. Her stepfather had always made certain to dress her up, like the plaything she was to him. Whe
n Jacob proposed and she left Raymond’s home she took every last article of clothing and jewelry she owned with her, as if somewhere deep down she’d known she might need them some day.
Once she was on her own, Cassidy found her things meant very little to her. She sold off what she could to rent a room with a few other girls Helen introduced her to. They all worked for the cleaning company with Helen and even let Cassidy fill in when they needed help so she could make a little extra cash. It wasn’t a bad job. And it also allowed her the opportunity to escape, staying at some of the homes she tended when they were vacant.
Living in a small apartment with four other girls was tight, but Cassidy hadn’t really noticed. She spent her days drinking and writing. Surviving on the kindness of her roommates who shared their leftovers with her. She didn’t ask for handouts, but they’d felt bad for her. At twenty-two she was the youngest of them and they all knew about Jacob. That was the trouble with living in a small town. But despite all she’d endured over the past few months, living with strangers had given Cassidy the break she needed to solidify her plans and a way to make it back to this house.
Cassidy looked around the sparse attic room as she savored the meal Thomas brought her. It was freezing in the attic. But with Thomas taking up the large bedroom downstairs, there was only one other proper bedroom available—the one she’d shared with Jacob all those years ago. The one she’d awoken in a few days ago. It had almost broken her—the crushing memories that lived in that room. She couldn’t stay there. She’d rather deal with the cold attic than face her ghosts.
Cassidy shrugged on a warm ivory jacket, one of the few things she’d kept, and continued to eat Thomas’s peace offering while she plotted how else she could try to get rid of him.
Retreat To Me (The Retreat Series Book 1) Page 4