by Mary Birk
“What exactly are you up to, sweetcakes? Boozing rather heavy for a work night, aren’t you?”
“Shut up and help me carry this bowl over to the table. I don’t want to take my hand out. I think I might have broken it.”
He did as she asked, while she carried her glass of whiskey.
“Are we going to see you being brought up on charges of police brutality?”
“Shut up.” She sniffled again.
He went over to the cupboard and took the bottle of whiskey out. Getting a glass for himself, he brought everything back to the table. After he poured himself a drink, he topped up her glass.
She inclined her head back at the counter. “I wasn’t stealing your whiskey. I wrote you a chit. I’ll buy some more tomorrow.”
“Don’t worry about it. I can stand an injured boxer a drink now and again.”
“Thanks, but I’ll buy some all the same. I don’t want to take advantage.”
He seemed barely able to suppress a smile. “All right, then, feel free. This house can always use more whiskey. What happened?”
“My idiotic brothers ambushed me after work to tell me I’m ruining my reputation and sullying their honor and the honor of the family.”
Harry frowned. “And they tried to hit you?”
“No, I got so mad I hit Evan. The idjit has a steel jaw.”
“Is the hand the only injury?”
She nodded. “But it really hurts.” Tears squeezed from her eyes and started to fall down her face.
“Let’s get you some water to drink so that whiskey doesn’t hit you too hard, and I’ll have a look at that hand.”
He brought her a glass of water. While she drank, he dried her hand and examined it.
“Not broken. Bruised pretty badly, but all your bones seem intact.”
She sniffed, and took the towel to dry her eyes. “They’re swine. I hate them all.”
“They’re probably worried about you.”
“They might come after you next.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“How?”
“I’ve some ideas. I’ll be back in a bit.” He dumped his whiskey into her glass. “No more after this. You’ve got to go to work tomorrow.”
She heard the front door close behind him.
* * * * *
Susan Clark knew that no one was going to come looking for her. Months had gone by, and no one here even seemed worried enough to try to hide her. They probably knew no one would ever look for her in Nairobi. She put down her red marker and took up the green one, then looked around the room where the rest of Idi’s wives were busy working on their various projects or caring for their children. They’d resented her when she first came, but after they realized she didn’t want to be here, that she was sad most of the time, they’d softened toward her. Even Obeda, the head wife, was nice to her now.
Idi was pleased that she was pregnant, Susan knew. He’d married her as soon as the doctor had confirmed it. He wanted a boy, a half-American boy, for some reason. He joked that the child could be president of the United States someday, like the president they had now, half-African, half-American. He’d quit having sex with her because he was afraid it might jeopardize the pregnancy, and his staying away from Susan had pleased her sister wives. They measured their happiness by how many times Idi came to them, whereas Susan didn’t care if he ever came to her again. She thought about her baby, and about her parents who didn’t know they were going to have a grandchild. Maybe they wouldn’t want to even see the child their daughter had with a man who’d bought her, raped her, then married her.
Susan knew she was going to love her baby no matter what. Idi wasn’t an awful man, not really. He loved children, and he loved sex. He’d been happy when she’d been brought to him. He hadn’t been rough, more like a big, spoiled teddy bear. His desire to please her had been almost pathetic. He’d exclaimed with joy over her hair and her green eyes, and marveled at her small breasts.
She was his only non-African wife, and he treated her as if she came from a different planet, which, in many ways she had. He’d been devoted to her, coming to her every night and often also during the day, bringing her presents and good things to eat. He wouldn’t let her have a Bible, and didn’t allow her to openly pray to her God, although he tried to talk to her of his own religion.
English was the official language of Nairobi, so his English wasn’t bad. Most of his other wives, though, had difficulty with English, and Obeda asked her to tutor them, which she didn’t mind. It helped to pass her days after they realized she was pregnant and Idi stopped coming to her for sex. She found she liked being a teacher. She enjoyed not only teaching, but also preparing her materials for the lessons, like the vocabulary chart she was making now.
Her life here was certainly better than it had been when she’d first been kidnapped. Here she never had to please any man other than Idi, and he didn’t try to degrade her or make her feel like a piece of merchandise. She was a lower wife, of course, but she was still a wife of a powerful man, and she was treated with respect. Her sister wives were good women and they cared deeply about their children. As the children were only allowed to speak English, and the wives were forbidden to talk to them in any other language, her sister wives were desperate to learn to speak the language better.
Susan finished making her vocabulary chart, and smiling, motioned for her students to come with her to the classroom. Today would be fun—she was going to teach them words they could use to talk to their children about their activities.
* * * * *
Later, after Harry had finished installing the dead bolt lock on the door that gave access to the ground floor where Allison’s rooms were, he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. “Now, you’re to invite them all …” and when she protested, he held up a hand to shush her and continued, “—and their wives or girlfriends—to a party here Friday. And your parents. We’ll show them the layout and the lock on your door. I’ll have a dolly with me and you’ll have a young man with you.”
She felt her face redden. “A young man? What am I supposed to do? Invent someone?”
“What happened to Michaud? He seemed perfectly smitten.”
“You saw that night. It didn’t work out.”
“He’s still been calling. Maybe you can make it up.”
Allison shook her head.
“How about that Ian chap you used to see?”
“Didn’t work out.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “If you can’t find a lad to invite, I’ll find one for you. It’s in my best interests to convince your brothers that they’ve no need to worry about me.”
“I’ll find someone myself.” She moved away from him, letting his hand fall away.
“You do that. We’ll put on a spread, win them over with our hospitality, and demonstrate our platonic and businesslike relationship.”
“Thanks for being so nice. Some landlords would have just kicked me out. Too much trouble to have a tenant like me.”
He waved his hand airily. “Don’t mention it. You’re a fine housemate. Neat as a pin and you only occasionally hit the bottle—just when you’ve been brawling.”
* * * * *
It was half-nine when Reid saw Anne’s car drive up, Sebastian in the car behind her. He opened the door and met her at the car. When she got out, he knew from her smile that everything was all right again. He folded her into his arms and kissed her.
“Welcome home, girl.”
“I’m still mad at you. Don’t ever do that to me again.”
“I’m sorry.” Her text, when she’d found out he hadn’t been in Paris, had said that he’d better not be with some girl on Stirling’s yacht, that if he didn’t call her immediately, she’d come down there, throw him and the girl off the yacht, and John, as well. He’d called immediately.
“You should be. How would you feel if I lied to you about where I was going?”
“Terrible. I’ll never do it again.”<
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“You’d better not.”
“Don’t be mad. I’ve missed you.”
She kissed him, taking parts of his lips into her mouth before finishing in a total immersion kiss that made him remember how good she was with that mouth.
“Let me get Michael, lassie, and let’s go inside. I’ll try to keep him asleep.”
“That would be good.” She winked. He knew that wink and it boded well for the rest of the night.
Carefully, he took the baby out of the car seat and held the sweet bundle close. He looked back over his shoulder and whispered, “Leave the luggage. Sebastian will get it.”
She nodded, then followed him with her purse and the diaper bag.
After Reid had gotten Michael settled in his cot, he went back downstairs to the kitchen. Anne was holding a glass of wine and had slipped off her shoes. Her hair was loose and she looked relaxed. He got a beer and sat across from her at the kitchen table. She put her bare feet on his lap and he took them into his hands.
“Tired?” He massaged her toes as he gazed into her face.
“Not really. Are you?”
“No. At the risk of falling out of your good graces again, I might as well tell you. Jack’s coming back through from London tomorrow.”
“For how long?”
“Till Sunday afternoon. I’ll tell him to get a hotel.”
“No, he can stay here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Did you drop the girl off at Peter’s?”
“Yes. I tried to get her to stay here until they get back, but she insisted she’ll be okay.”
“They have an alarm.”
“I know. I made her promise to put it on as soon as she got inside.”
Reid decided he might as well bring up the subject they’d both been avoiding. “So, you heard about Andrew and Darby?”
She nodded.
“What do you think?”
She didn’t answer for a few seconds, and he could tell she was choosing her words carefully. Finally she said, “I think Andrew getting married is a good idea. He needs to have someone in his life.”
“But not Darby?”
She gave an apologetic smile. “I know she’s your sister, but yeah, he could have chosen better.”
He nodded.
She shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe he’ll be a good influence on her.”
He swallowed, then made himself ask, “Any regrets?”
“Of course.”
Reid gave a slow nod, keeping his eyes on the foot he’d been massaging. If he hadn’t wanted to hear the answer, he shouldn’t have asked the question.
She touched his chest. “Don’t you? Can you imagine how awkward the holidays are going to be with the two of them at Dunbaryn?”
He looked up in surprise. “That’s your regret?”
“What did you think?”
“I think I love you.” He lifted one foot to his mouth, kissed it, then did the same with her other foot. “Feet better?”
“My feet are better, but I’m still feeling a bit neglected.”
“Neglected? In what way?”
“Guess.” She smiled and burrowed her toes into his lap.
* * * * *
Tabby had waited in the foyer of the MacTavishes’s house until she saw Lady Anne’s car drive away, then she’d run upstairs to her room, brushed her teeth, changed clothes and walked to the street. Now she stood on the curb, her arms wrapped around herself to keep warm. She looked up and down the dark street, waiting for her ride.
The cold wind blew through Tabby’s thin jeans and she wished she’d worn a longer coat. She hoped Lizzie wasn’t too disappointed that she’d cancelled coming to meet her boyfriend. She didn’t really care that much about meeting someone else’s man. She had her own life, and her own plans.
Tabby noticed a grey-haired man walking his dog, a nervous-looking Chihuahua. The dog pranced along as if on tiptoes, barely keeping pace with his master, who wasn’t exactly setting any speed records himself. The man kept his head down, and didn’t say anything as he passed her. She said hello and reached down to pat the dog. Nervous dog, but friendly. The man looked embarrassed, but pleased, and nodded to her before continuing on his way. These Scots were a reserved bunch, but then again, he probably thought she was a little strange, standing out on the street of a rich neighborhood like this so late at night.
She squinted toward lights that seemed to be coming slowly down the lane that crossed the one where she stood. Like they were looking for an address or for someone. Maybe it was her ride. She fluffed up her hair with her fingers. The car lights turned at the intersection and were now coming toward her.
She smiled, wiggling her fingers in a little wave to the driver, and the car pulled up to the curb. She opened the passenger side door and got in, excited and a little nervous.
“I’m Tabby. You’re my ride?”
“Aye.” He smiled at her. “Seat belt, luv.”
She strapped herself in, turned toward him. A strong hand that must have come from the back seat clamped a damp cloth over her nose and mouth, and a sickly-sweet smell filled her nostrils. She gasped, trying to fight, then felt herself collapse.
FRIDAY, APRIL 9
Chapter 30
TABBY THOUGHT she was somewhere out in the country, but she couldn’t be sure. There didn’t seem to be any traffic noises. She remembered getting into the car, but the next thing she knew was when she woke up in this house with no clothes on, her hands tied to the metal headboard of a bed that seemed to be the only furnishing in the room. There were no mirrors, and the windows seemed to be boarded up and nailed shut from the outside. She’d been given drugs, she knew. She could see the needle prick on her arm, right on the inside of her elbow.
A woman came in and said reassuring things to her. Tabby had asked where Peter was, but the woman looked at her as if she didn’t know what she was talking about, then opened the door to admit an ugly little man with grey hair and a big nose. The woman told her he was a doctor, and that he was going to examine her. She left, closing the door behind her. The man put a bag down on the bed beside her, and spread her legs, tying them to the ends of the bed with straps that must have been already attached to the bed.
“Sit up.”
“I can’t.” She pulled at her hands, demonstrating that between those bindings and the straps around her legs, she couldn’t bend into a sitting position. She’d never had this kind of examination before, but she’d heard girls talking about it. A gynecologist?
He grunted, then took something out of his bag, a metal clamp-like thing. He reached between her legs, and tried to put it inside her. Tabby flinched, and backed away.
“This position doesn’t work. I need you to sit up.”
“I can’t.” She wriggled her arms, again showing him her problem. He frowned, but put the metal thing back in his bag.
“You are a virgin, yes?” He spoke with an accent. Arab, she thought. Apparently, he couldn’t tell, or he wouldn’t have asked her. She hesitated, trying to decide whether being a virgin would be a good thing or a bad thing in the circumstances.
The doctor waited impatiently. “Answer me.”
She nodded and swallowed. Maybe if they thought she was a virgin, they would let her go. “Yes.”
He nodded in approval, then asked Tabby about her period. Tabby lied and told him that she’d finished it on Thursday. He bobbed his head, and handed her a small white pill and a cup of water.
“Take this.”
“What is it?”
“Birth control.”
“But I don’t need…” Then she realized, depending on what happened to her, and if she weren’t already pregnant, she might indeed need it, so she took the pill and quickly swallowed it. She thought he’d go away then, but instead, he rubbed his hand over her pubic hair.
She wriggled to get away from him, but her bindings kept her open. “Leave me alone. Go away.”
But
instead of going away, he leaned down and kissed her there. She felt his tongue in her and tried to twist herself out of his reach.
“Don’t pretend you don’t like it. I know better.”
“No, please!”
“You American girls have no morals. You cannot blame men for succumbing to your wicked ways.” He buried his face in her, and she didn’t know what to do, or where to look. He made appreciative sounds as he moved his mouth around her softest parts, moaning things in a language she did not understand. He inserted one finger, then another, inside of her, but it didn’t feel good like when Peter or Tommy did it. His fingers were rough and he moved too fast. She wanted to yell for the woman to come help her, but wasn’t she the one that had let this horrid man in?
“Don’t, please don’t.”
“Shut up!”
Tabby whimpered, and he grabbed her waist. “Hold still. I’m only touching, not doing any damage. Your virginity will be for someone who will pay a lot of money for the privilege of taking it. But as the certifier of your virginity, I have some privileges.” He released his grip on her, unzipped his pants, and took his penis out.
“Leave me alone. I don’t want to get pregnant.” She knew the birth control pill couldn’t work that fast.
“I told you. I won’t enter you.” He touched her breasts roughly as he massaged himself with one hand. She closed her eyes, but could still feel his hand going all over her. Then, his mouth went back between her legs briefly, after which she felt him get on the bed and kneel or perch over her.
She would not open her eyes. She tried to think about something besides the man moaning over her, but his moans got louder and faster. She tried to pray the prayer Lizzie liked so much to block him out, but she couldn’t remember the words, so she just prayed whatever came into her head.
Then the man cried out, and Tabby felt him come all over her stomach and breasts. She kept her eyes closed and finished praying her own made-up prayer while he wiped a wet cloth across her, cleaning off what he’d done before leaving her alone. She heard his zipper being closed, followed by a long sigh of satisfaction.