Johnnie snickered, sliding his eyes to look into her face, and she stared right at him, chin up, trying to smile. She breathed deeply. “It will be so much nicer there, Johnnie. You know it will.”
She saw his eyes harden as he stared at the road ahead, and his hands opened and closed on the steering wheel. In one sudden movement, he whipped the Suburban to one side, bumping into a tiny clearing at the side of the road. Every muscle in her body froze, and her heart hammered in her chest. He was going to rape her, right here, and probably kill her too. But then he shoved the car into reverse, sending her crashing into the dashboard again, and he pointed the car back down the track, the way that they’d come. He slapped the side of her head, hard, grinning when she cried out, and started to drive back down the track.
He was muttering again, curses and crude promises about what was to come, what he would do to her, what she deserved. She pressed herself against the back of the seat, trying not to cry, trying to stay upright, trying to think, think, think about what to do next. He was going to take her back to her cabin. She guessed she had maybe twenty minutes before they got there.
She pressed her back into the seat as terrors tore through her brain. The night in Chicago, in the dark of the trees, the hands, the hands everywhere, her body pulled and stretched, her cries and screams unheeded and scorned. The pain, the terrible, searing, scraping pain, as one after the other they took her. And now, here, it was going to happen again.
She shook her head hard, steeling her brain to focus. No, no, it was not going to happen again. Johnnie was still mumbling, hunched over the steering wheel, something about the cat and flowers and the glove, that disgusting glove, giggling, gloating at how he’d watched her, he’d watched and she didn’t know, how he’d scared her with the dead bird, how she’d see now how it was meant to be. He was talking more to himself than to her.
Think, think.
The Suburban shook and groaned as it rolled into each deep rut in the road. They were getting close.
The first part of her plan was working. Unfortunately, right now, there was no second part.
***
Her decision to run came from her gut. She didn’t think about it. She just slammed open the car door as soon as he pulled up to the cabin, almost toppling over into the rough dirt, then running at a full sprint down the rutted track of road, her muscles pushing her body forward in a nightmarish race, terror chasing behind her.
She might have made it, she might have gotten away, but her ankle turned and she fell, hard, her body tumbling forward, the skin on her hands scraping away against the rock-hard roadbed as she tried to break her fall. He was on her in an instant, shrieking like a banshee, cursing, grabbing a hunk of her hair and jerking her upright while she screamed. “Please, please, let me go.” What could she say, what words would make him let her go? There must be some words.
He dragged her backwards by the clump of her hair, her head pulled so far back that her neck would surely break. Her hair was letting go of her scalp, her whole scalp would come off, the pain was terrible. She cried out, “Stop, stop,” but he didn’t stop. He didn’t talk, just grunted, pulling her, forcing her to the cabin steps, then up them, one by one, her feet scrambling and her calves banging hard against each step. And the door was open, and she was thrown through it, landing hard on her chest against the wooden floor, the door slamming shut behind them. The breath was knocked out of her, she could barely move, and she lay there, stunned. And then he was on her again, grabbing the back of her shirt to pull her towards the bed, the collar of the shirt strangling her, muffling the words she tried to utter, the words that must get him to stop.
“Johnnie, no, please.” She was half whimpering, half crying. She flailed her arms back towards him, but she couldn’t reach him. She grabbed at a chair, but he kicked it away and slapped her, hard, on the side of her head. Her ear bent, maybe even tore, but she felt nothing now, nothing except the desperate need to get away.
A quick flash, outside by the window, a flicker across the pane of glass, like the swoop of a bird dropping low, there and then gone. She sobbed and struggled and tried to call out but Johnnie pulled her and dragged her, the taut edge of her collar digging into her throat, her legs scuttling uselessly against the wood floor. They were at the bed.
“Take your clothes off. Now.” His voice was oozy with smugness, as though he knew he’d won, though he didn’t loosen his grip. He shook her hard and the pressure on her throat cut off her breath, and she thought she would pass out. “Now. Before I rip them off you.”
She fumbled at the buttons of her blouse. One undone. This couldn’t be happening. Two undone.
And the door crashed open. Through her streaming eyes, Cass saw a slight figure, all in black, brandishing some sort of large rod. A tire iron. Cindy. It didn’t make any sense, but yes it was Cindy, Cindy was standing right there, in the open doorway, her body a sharp, dark shape against the brightness of the day outside.
“Get away from her, you bastard.” Cindy’s voice was harsh and hard. “You cowardly little creep. Get away from her or you’re about to lose your head. Or worse.”
Johnnie let loose of the back of Cass’ shirt and she dropped towards the floor on all fours, gasping. He turned and lunged at Cindy, and as he moved towards her, Cindy swung the tire iron at him in one smooth arc, under his arms reaching for her, smashing it hard against his left knee with a crack like a baseball hitting a wood bat. He screamed and dropped to one knee. Cindy strode around him and pulled Cass to her feet, not taking her eyes off Johnnie. Cindy hissed at her. “Find something, something to hit with, now.” Cindy shoved her towards the back of the cabin and she staggered away, wobbling, barely able to stand. There, the wood stove poker, lying on the stone hearth. It was warm and solid as Cass grabbed it with two hands and held it in front of her, her vision blurred and her head swimming. They were three points of a triangle then, Cass and Cindy and Johnnie, who struggled to his feet and stared at them, back and forth one to the other, sneering and cursing.
“Look, creep, we outnumber you and we sure as hell won’t hold back. Get out of here. Now.” Cindy was poised for an attack, the tire iron raised in front of her. Johnnie snarled and limped half a step forward, but he hesitated and his eyes narrowed. He swallowed as his eyes darted back and forth, back and forth, then he stared right at Cass. She pulled herself tall, willing her body to work, to be steady. No one could save her but herself. Cindy couldn’t do this alone.
She found the words, and they rasped out, strong and clear. “Get out of here, Johnnie. Now. Or I swear, I swear to God, I will break your head open, right now.” She raised the poker and stared straight at him. “I’d like to do that. I’d like to smash your bloody head right open, right now.” The poker nested heavy and lethal in her hands, waiting, and as she said the words, she knew them to be true.
For a moment, the three of them stood silently, frozen in place. Johnnie’s lips curled into a snarl, and she readied herself, she was sure he was going to come at her, but he backed away and through the open door, dragging his left leg. And he was gone.
Cass and Cindy didn’t move until the car door slammed and the engine fired up. Cass dropped the poker, falling to her knees and vomiting onto the floor and then cradling her head in her hands. Cindy touched her back but immediately moved away, and Cass heard her close and lock the front door, while talking on her cell, calling for help, her voice all shaky now.
“Are you okay?” Cindy crouched next to her, but Cass saw she kept her eyes on the front door, watchful.
She nodded her head, not trusting that she could speak. Her nostrils stung and closed from the stench of her own vomit and she pushed herself backwards to sit on the floor, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.
“You’ll be okay.” Cindy walked over to the window, still clutching the tire iron as she scanned the horizon outside. She briefly turned back to Cass and grinned.
“Nicely done, bitch.”
Cass managed a weak
smile. She was pretty sure she’d just been given a compliment.
***
A thin, muted light leaked through the curtained windows of the tiny room. Cass opened her eyes for a moment, breathing in the stillness, her hands brushing against the stiff bed sheets as she heard the murmur of distant voices and footsteps tapping on a hard floor outside her door. An IV line dripped a clear liquid into her left arm, to the accompaniment of rhythmic, gentle beeps. Whatever the doctor had given her had put her out completely. Now, she was barely awake, and her brain swam with images: Johnnie’s cruel sneer, and the horror of his brutal touch. Cindy, appearing from nowhere, bursting through the door, a charging warrior princess all in black. Then Johnnie was gone, she was on the floor vomiting, and Nick was there. Nick picked her up and maybe she fainted or passed out, she wasn’t sure, because the next thing she remembered was the stark bright light of the emergency room and white robed figures standing over her with grave faces. Hands pressed a blood pressure cuff around her arm, someone stroked her hair, and a nurse whispered in her ear. “You’re going to be okay. And the baby is okay.”
She saw the red call button, but she wasn’t ready. She drifted and sunk back into sleep.
When she woke again, a slight figure sat close at her bedside, and a hand intertwined with hers. She didn’t have to look. She knew who it was, and she knew everything was going to be all right now.
Merry.
And a little later, Nick would be there too.
Chapter 23
Cassandra’s hands pressed against the huge lump of spinning clay as she angled her body directly over the whirling wheel. The slick mass barely moved at first, but she pushed steadily, her mind calm, the angles of her hands forcing the clay to slide and settle and center. She envisioned the shape it would become, the sensuous, bulbous curve and the flattened lip of the massive bowl, and the pattern of soaring ravens she would paint on one side only, in black, before finishing the bowl with the translucent celadon glaze. Now it was a lump of clay, but she saw its future. Spatters of clay and water slapped onto her apron.
Cat’s occasional chittering as he crouched on the sill and stared out the window punctuated the strains of Mozart floating out of the dusty tape deck. Ravens must have been perching again in the spruces across the meadow. She smiled without looking up as the clay undulated against her palms. Cat could play the great hunter from the safety of the cabin, but if they were face to face, she’d put her money on the scrappy ravens winning the skirmish. Cat was becoming a butterball, his small, orange body rounded and heavy with rolls of fat. He still made occasional brief forays outside, but was mostly content to doze in a sunbeam on the wide windowsills. Now that winter was here again, she guessed he might give up his outdoor excursions entirely.
December. Another winter. A foot of snow blanketed the meadow.
A cramp zinged through her abdomen and she shifted her torso and sighed. The birth had been quick, five hours of labor, and now three weeks later, her recovery was right on track. The clinic had given her a clean bill of health. Her body belonged to her again.
She let her thoughts wander, gingerly, to the baby. The last few months before the birth had lasted forever and then they were gone in the blink of an eye. Nick and Merry fretted and fussed, and argued that she should stay with them, but Cass had insisted on staying in her own cabin until the time came. Near the end, when she couldn’t position her ponderous body over the wheel, she hand-built vessels when she could still muster the energy. But there were whole days in the weeks before the birth when most of her waking hours were spent in a dozing half-dream, lying on the big bed, with Cat nuzzling into the mound of her belly. She knew his droning purr only reflected his contentment with the cozy and warm nest she created in the bed, but she liked to imagine that he was crooning a low, rumbling song to the baby.
The ten-day waiting period following the birth had long passed, the time she had to reconsider her decision, and the baby officially belonged to Nick and Merry now. The mandatory legal period hadn’t mattered to her. The baby was Nick’s and Merry’s from the time she had made the decision months ago. Her conviction that this was the path her life should take hadn’t wavered. When she’d first held the baby in her arms, she was in awe of it. It was a new perfect person. Yet, when she lifted her arms across the bed and handed the quiet bundle to Merry, Nick hovering in the background, all of them in tears, there was a stab of loss and sorrow but no regret. The love they all felt for each other and shared with this new little person was palpable in the tiny hospital room, and the precious gift she passed to Nick and Merry was a gift to herself as well. They were all bound together now, and this was the way it was meant to be.
She supposed it could get complicated. At some point, Merry and Nick would have to explain to the little girl that they were her parents, but that other lady who was always hanging around, well she was part of the family too. Cassandra grinned at the thought. And at some point, they’d have to explain to little Rita how she came to have such an old-fashioned name.
She smiled, remembering Nick holding the baby for the first time, nestling her gently in his big arms. Was it bittersweet, she wondered, this baby coming so soon after Cindy and Kevin left? As he cradled this new life, did he remember holding Cindy in his arms, decades ago?
He’d been heartbroken when Cindy and Kevin returned to California after Thanksgiving, but the several months Cindy stayed in Homer had healed much of the rift between them and given Nick time with his grandson. He said he understood Cindy’s decision. She was a big city girl, she hated the cold weather, and there weren’t any opportunities in Homer for the work she was trained to do. She’d promised they would return next summer to visit, and Nick and Cindy talked about Kevin coming on his own when he was older. Still, Cass often saw a shadow of loss pass over Nick’s face when Kevin’s name was mentioned.
Cass was of two minds about Cindy. They had never quite gotten beyond their tug of war for Nick’s attention, but Cass recognized that Cindy had a strength and toughness that came from spending a lot of time in the School of Hard Knocks. During her months in Homer, Cindy had dialed back some of the thornier parts of her personality. And there was that little business about her rescuing Cass from Johnnie. No, that wasn’t right. Cindy hadn’t rescued her. They had worked together against Johnnie, side by side. With Cindy’s help, she’d rescued herself.
Cat jumped down from the sill and strolled onto the fireplace hearth, circling twice before plopping into a curled hump on the warm tiles. Nap to nap was how Cat lived now, with timeouts to see what had arrived in his food bowl. Cass pushed a strand of hair away from her face, smearing some clay on her cheek in the process. She wrinkled her nose as the sharp, clean scent of the wet clay mixed with a creeping burnt stink drifting from the kitchen. The wheel creaked to a standstill as she stretched and wiped her hands on a rag. Once again, she’d forgotten to unplug the pot this morning, and now, in the early evening, the coffee had reduced itself to smelly, black sludge.
The rattle of frozen pebbles spit loose by tires startled Cat awake. Cass spun in the direction of the clatter from the driveway, instantly alert. Even though Johnnie was in prison far away, and should stay there for years to come, a lightning bolt of adrenaline sometimes rippled through her body when she heard sudden noises outside the cabin. Johnnie had ripped away her casual confidence in the safety of her solitary existence, but now each day was a little better than the one before. She still checked the lock on the cabin door several times before going to bed, but she slept through the night now. Her mind was healing along with her body.
A flash of blue streaked by the window. Ryan’s truck. She ran her hands down her apron and fought a fleeting urge to run into the bathroom to comb her hair. This was the third time he’d come by this week. The last time it had only been for a few minutes on his way to work. He’d dropped by to bring her some fresh croissants and a small jar of raspberry jam from The Twins. His hand had brushed against hers when he handed he
r the fragrant paper sack, and in that small moment, something shifted. They were still shy and a bit awkward with each other. She guessed that both of them were sensing that a sea change was taking place, but that both of them were unsure of where they were headed. Her breath quickened and a pleasant glow nestled below her stomach. She unplugged the stinky pot and dumped it into the sink as she heard the truck door slam.
As the thump of his cane sounded on the porch, she reached for the teapot on the high shelf. But at his tentative knock on the door, she pushed the teapot back and paused, taking one shuddering deep breath, and smiled. She pulled two wineglasses onto the counter, blowing away their thin coating of dust, before turning to the door. It was time.
About Stephanie Joyce Cole
Stephanie Joyce Cole lived for decades in Alaska. She now lives in Seattle, in a household that includes a predatory but lovable Manx cat named Bruno, and a young standard poodle named Rusty, who is in perpetual motion.
Visit Stephanie Joyce Cole at www.stephaniejoycecole.com or on Facebook.
If you enjoyed A Late Hard Frost, don’t miss Compass North.
Reeling from the shock of a suddenly shattered marriage, Meredith flees as far from her home in Florida as she can get without a passport: to Alaska.
After a freak accident leaves her presumed dead, she stumbles into a new identity and a new life in a quirky small town. Her friendship with a fiery and temperamental artist and her growing worry for her elderly, cranky landlady pull at the fabric of her carefully guarded secret. When a romance with a local fisherman unexpectedly blossoms, Meredith struggles to find a way to meld her past and present so that she can move into the future she craves. But someone is looking for her, someone who will threaten Meredith's dream of a reinvented life.
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