by Alexia Adams
“Trust me, if it weren’t for Hannah, you wouldn’t see either of us again tonight. But with our little chaperone in tow … ” He left the rest unsaid.
“Drive safe then and keep your mind on the road,” his father said with a laugh as they moved toward the car.
• • •
“This is our song,” Jonathan whispered in her ear, her body plastered against his full length. The singer’s velvet voice crooned a sultry version of “At Last.” They moved slowly to the music, oblivious to the other couples dancing around them.
“Well, at the very least we get a chance to talk,” Olivia whispered back. She’d enjoyed the wedding more than she’d expected. Jonathan had to sit at the head table with the rest of the bridal party, but she had sat nearby with his parents and grandparents and Hannah, of course. She’d often caught his eyes on her, especially if she laughed. And there was a lot to amuse her as the family was more than willing to share stories of Jonathan’s youth. During a lull in the festivities, she’d gone to the ladies’ room, and, as she knew Jonathan was watching her, she had ever-so-slightly exaggerated the sway of her hips. On her way back to the reception hall, he suddenly pulled her into a dark alcove.
“I have thirty seconds to kiss you before I’m expected to toast the happy couple,” Jonathan had murmured, his lips already descending to hers. As abruptly as the assault on her senses began, it was over and he was gone.
“You can stare daggers at me all night, little brother. I don’t care. I want to dance with the lady in red,” Jonathan’s brother said, cutting in on their third dance.
Jonathan reluctantly moved aside and George took her hand. He whirled her onto the dance floor, a large smile on his face, as Jonathan stood at the edge with his arms folded across his chest. George was remarkably light on his feet for such a big man.
“I just wanted to say thank you,” he began. She glanced up, surprised. He was as tall as Jonathan but his hair was not as fair. His features were also not as regular as his younger brother’s, not as classically handsome. But the same blue eyes twinkled at her as he spoke.
“For what?”
George, like his father, was a man of few words, and he’d hardly spoken to her during the weekend. Not out of lack of friendliness, but more, she sensed, out of deference that others in the family were better able to communicate their feelings.
“Thank you for making my youngest sister radiant on her special day. And for making my mother look and feel twenty years younger. But mostly, for making my baby brother squirm in his seat when he saw you leave earlier, just before the speeches. He’s got it bad for you. As his big brother, I’d say make him walk the high road as long as possible. But as a man, I have to say take pity on him sooner rather than later.”
“I’m glad I could help with the wedding. I have no family, so I haven’t been part of this type of thing before. It’s wonderful how you all made me feel like I belong. Jonathan and I have a few things to work out. But I hope this won’t be the last time we meet.”
“Me too,” George replied. “I’d better hand you back to Jonny before he passes out.” He nodded at his brother, who was pretending to listen to one of his aunts, but Jonathan never took his eyes off her.
“Your lady,” George said gallantly, putting her hand on Jonathan’s arm. “I’m off to find my wife. Married fifteen years and Shelley’s been flirting with me all night. The only good thing about other people’s weddings is that they make my lady frisky.” George’s deep laugh boomed through the room.
“What did big brother have to say?” Jonathan steered her toward a vacant corner of the room. Thank God. Dancing with him was too sensuous. She’d be the one dragging him into a darkened alcove next. And it wouldn’t be just for a kiss.
“He said he likes to see you squirm,” she replied playfully.
“Ha! You’d think he’d have more mercy. Shelley made him squirm plenty when they were going out.”
“I like your family.”
“They like you, too. Stephanie says you’re her shopping sister.”
“I hear that’s the best kind of sister to have.” The feeling of family was starting to overwhelm her. It was like a starving person being presented with a buffet. Or, more appropriate in her case, a model standing outside looking through the window, being told she could come in and enjoy if only she gave up everything she’d worked for.
“You okay?” Jonathan turned her face up to his. She dropped her eyes to his lips so he didn’t read her confusion. She’d promised a weekend without issues, but it was hard to enjoy something she knew could be snatched away in an instant.
“Yes. I’m a little dehydrated. I need a glass of water.”
“Wait here, I’ll get you one.”
Jonathan headed toward the bar and she admired his lean form, laughing when he grossly exaggerated the sway of his hips as he walked away. While she waited for his return she glanced around the room. Hannah was in a circle with her older cousins on the edge of the dance floor. She shrieked with joy and clapped her hands, twirling her dress around her. Every few minutes one of her older cousins would pick her up and swing her around the floor, and her delighted squeal would drown out the music. She was so happy.
It struck Olivia like an electrical shock. Hannah didn’t need her. She had a huge family to love her. Even if she had to come up to Yorkshire to live for a few years, she’d be so loved it wouldn’t take long before she forgot Olivia even existed. Another “Exit Here” sign appeared in her brain.
Jonathan approached with a large bottle of water and a tumbler of ice. He remembered she liked her water ice-cold. Her heart beat frantically as he drew nearer. How could she do this? How could she leave him?
This was going to hurt. Excruciatingly.
Chapter 17
Olivia woke, dripping in sweat. She leaped from the bed and looked frantically around the room, her heartbeat so loud in her ears she couldn’t hear anything else. She caught sight of the dress she wore to Stephanie’s wedding hanging on the back of the door and fell onto the mattress. She wasn’t living on the streets again. She was in the guest bedroom of Jonathan’s parents’ house.
In her dream, as she’d approached the young woman at King’s Cross Station, the girl’s face had morphed into her own. Except not her at fifteen or even now. It had been an older Olivia, but still living on the streets. Then the face had changed again, to that of her mother, eyes glazed with drugs, skin gray with poor health, her clothes tattered and filthy. If that hadn’t been enough, clutched in her arms was Olivia’s dead baby.
She took several deep breaths, waiting for her heart rate to return to normal. It had been years since she’d had a nightmare like that. What had set her off this time? Probably talking to the homeless girl at the station on Friday, coupled with the anguish of knowing today she was going to say goodbye to the best thing that had happened to her in ages.
There would be no more sleep tonight.
She threw on some clothes and packed up her bag. She checked her phone. The first train wasn’t until 5:30 a.m. Another hour and a half. Should she write a goodbye note or wait for someone to wake? Every instinct in her body told her to run before she changed her mind.
Quietly, she tiptoed downstairs, hoping for a cup of tea to soothe her jangled nerves. The kettle clicked off as she approached it. She whirled around to see a figure staring out the window into the night. Jonathan’s eyes met hers in the reflection from the glass before he turned.
“I didn’t want to startle you,” he whispered. “Can’t sleep?”
She swallowed. “No. You neither?”
“No.”
“Why not?” He sauntered over to her, blocking her exit to the door. She wasn’t afraid, but the run instinct was still screaming in her ear.
“Well, you see, there’s this woman. I really care about her. But every time I try to get close, she backs away. Oh, she puts on a fake smile and pretends that nothing’s wrong. But I’m not fooled. Then she calls out some o
ther guy’s name in the night. And poof, sleep gone.”
“What name?” Her voice broke. Jonathan stared hard at her.
His eyes were so icy she wrapped her arms around her waist. “Isaac.”
Her dead baby. Calling his name must have been what woke her. “She sounds unstable. You should probably stay away from her.”
He stepped closer. “I can’t. I’m falling in love with her.”
Her gaze flew to his. His eyes were clouded, a muscle throbbed in his jaw. “Don’t do that either.”
“Who’s Isaac? Is he that guy you were draped all over in those photos?”
Guy I was draped all over? “Oh, you must mean Tony. My agent sent him along to get some couple shots.”
“You looked at him like a lover. And he had his hand on your breast.” Jonathan’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
“He’s a model. I’m a model. We were working. It means nothing.” She didn’t want to have this discussion with him now. She turned around and tried to remember which cupboard held the mugs.
“Olivia, talk to me. Who’s Isaac?” Jonathan reached around her, removed two mugs, and closed the cupboard door. She had to steel herself not to melt against him as his chest brushed her back.
Every time he said the name, her heart ripped open a little more. “Can we have a cup of tea first?”
He made the tea and they sat across from each other at the table. She had to drink half the cup before the lump in her throat eased enough that she could talk.
“Isaac is the name I gave my baby. He died.”
“Oh God, Olivia, I had no idea.” Jonathan reached across the table and took her shaking hand in his. He stood as if to come around the table, but if he touched her, if he took her in his arms, she’d fall apart. And she needed to be strong so she could walk away. Like she had seven years ago.
“Sit down, Jonathan. And I’ll tell you.” Surprised, he sat again. But he didn’t release her hand. She took a deep breath and stared past him. “When I was fourteen, my mother had a really nasty boyfriend; he used to smack her around. One day I came home and she was unconscious on the sofa. Her boyfriend saw me in my school uniform and called me a tease. Then he raped me. I tried to scream, but he stuffed his dirty shirt in my mouth. After he left and she came to, I told her what happened. She slapped me and told me it was all my fault. But he never came around again.”
“Olivia.” He squeezed her hand tighter but she still didn’t look at him.
“Three weeks later, I discovered I was pregnant. I looked at the positive pregnancy test, then at my mother, passed out on the sofa yet again, and thought, I’m going to end up just like her.”
“You could never be like her,” he whispered as though not trusting his voice. “What did you do?”
“At first, I didn’t want that monster’s child. But then I realized that it was my child as well—someone to love. I didn’t have to turn out like my mother. I could say no to drink and drugs and work my way to providing for my baby. I’d already been approached several times when out with friends about doing some modeling.”
“What did your mother say?”
“I didn’t tell her until I was almost three months along. I don’t know why, but I expected her to be sympathetic, understanding, maybe even caring. It was stupid, really; she’d never been any of those things. I guess I thought the shared experience would somehow make us a real mother and daughter.” She’d been so naïve.
He ran his hand up her arm in a comforting gesture. “How did she react?”
The gentleness of his tone was such a sharp contrast to her mother’s reaction. Even seven years later she could still recall Ellen’s shrill voice. “She screamed at me. Said I had already ruined her life and now I was adding insult to injury. What man would want her when they found out she was a grandmother? She tried to get me to drink some concoction she mixed up, but I refused. She needn’t have bothered, because a month later I had a miscarriage.” She swallowed twice. “It was my fifteenth birthday.”
“I’m so sorry.” The simple words held a wealth of emotion.
She blinked back the moisture in her eyes but one tear must have escaped. Jonathan reached across and wiped it from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. Then placed the moisture against his own lips.
“No one at school knew I was pregnant, so when the blood poured down my legs, they called an ambulance. I was taken to the hospital and they performed a D&C. But I developed an infection so they kept me in for a few days. That’s where I met Sophia.
“The hospital kept calling Ellen and she kept saying she was coming. But she never showed once while I was there. Sophia had already decided to run away from home so I joined her. We walked out of the hospital wearing our bloody school uniforms—they were all we had. Sophia’s family tried to find her, but my mother never even reported me missing.”
Jonathan’s hand on the table was clenched in a tight fist. “I have no words.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s the past. I’m a successful model with a bright future.” She forced a smile, but it withered under his gaze. He wasn’t buying it. Of all the men she’d dated, Jonathan was the only one who could see through her mask to the woman inside. The real her.
She finished her tea and then drank half of Jonathan’s abandoned cup. It could’ve done with a slug of brandy to give her courage for what she had to do next.
• • •
Jonathan felt like he’d been repeatedly punched in the stomach. Olivia’s story had winded him and he physically ached for the teenage girl who had endured so much. He wanted to track down the man who had raped her and the mother who had failed to protect her and beat them senseless. He wanted to take Olivia in his arms and promise her that everything was going to be okay. He wanted to look after her for the rest of her life. But she’d crossed her arms over her stomach again as though holding herself together for the next big reveal.
“Friday, on the dales, you said I had to decide between modeling and you. I’ve made my decision.”
The ice in her tone warned him it was not the answer he wanted to hear. It set off a burning pain in his heart. “I also said we would enjoy the weekend with no issues.”
“Yes, but I can’t do this anymore. Hannah doesn’t need me. She has a big, loving family who will care for her. You don’t need me—”
He stood so abruptly that his chair fell over backwards. “Like hell I don’t—”
“Jonathan, sit down and let me finish.” Her voice was strained and her fists were clenched. He picked up his chair but couldn’t sit. “You don’t need me.” She held up her hand when he was about to object again. “You want me. Maybe even love me a little. But I’m not what you need. You need a woman who will give you the conventional life you had as a child. Someone who can give Hannah that life, too. I’m not that woman.”
“You could be.” He didn’t recognize his own voice it was so broken.
“No, I couldn’t. I have to be true to myself or I’m nothing. And there are hundreds of young girls who do need me. Girls like me and Sophia were. I’m going to run a program to help at-risk youth realize their potential. Give them hope. And the only way I can do that is if I’m a successful model. If I can legitimately say, ‘See, I was just like you. But look at me now. You can do the same.’”
“Olivia.”
“Thank you for giving me a taste of family life. I have loved every minute of being with you and Hannah. But I have to do this. I’m sure your mother will look after Hannah until you can make other arrangements. I’m going to take the first train back to London. I’ll come and collect my things from your house sometime in the week when you’re at work.”
“Olivia. No.” He couldn’t get any other words out. His throat was thick and his chest was so tight it hurt to breathe.
“Yes, Jonathan. In a few days you’ll see this is for the best. I’m leaving Hannah while she’s at her happiest. She’ll hardly know that I’m gone.”
“And me?”
“
Don’t, please. This is killing me, too.” Her voice broke and she stared at the table for a minute before lifting pain-filled eyes to his. “Will you call a taxi to take me to the station?”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No. I can’t sit beside you in the car for half an hour and then say goodbye again.”
“Don’t do this, Olivia.”
“I have to. I hope one day you’ll understand.”
She ran from the kitchen and up to her room, only coming down when the cab honked its horn in the driveway. Her face was blotchy and her eyes didn’t meet his.
“Please tell your mother thank you for me.” She climbed into the taxi without looking at him.
Barefoot, he stood in the driveway. As the taxi’s taillights disappeared down the road, a light drizzle began to fall.
“Come inside, Jonathan. You’ll catch your death.” His mother stood in the doorway.
“She’s gone.”
“I know. But standing out here in the rain isn’t going to get her back.”
“How do you know I want her back?”
His mother’s “harrumph” was answer enough.
• • •
Six hours later, he again stood in the driveway. Shoes on, bag at his side, ready to return to London. Alone. His mother handed him her car keys. “You drive. I’m going to talk,” she said.
He glared at her. But his death stare just bounced off her I’m-your-mother-and-you-will-listen shields. Every muscle in his body ached. He’d had to keep an upbeat attitude for Hannah, who had asked for Bibya as soon as she woke. He’d then lied to his daughter and his whole family, saying Olivia had to go back to London urgently for work, although what would constitute a modeling emergency he had no idea. Still, everyone had bought it, except his mother.
Before he’d even reversed out of the driveway, she was glaring at him.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Driving would be the obvious answer. Anything other than that, I have no idea.”
“I don’t need your smart mouth. I mean what are you doing with Olivia? She left in tears this morning. And you just watched her go.”