by Bree Cariad
Dinner consisted of her father and Gregory discussing business with the occasional question pointed in her direction. She managed to answer each query politely, but shortly as well, so as not to invite further inquiries. Things were going well until dessert was served. When they made dinner, Camille hadn’t paid attention to whatever her mother made for dessert, but now, looking at it, she was slightly appalled. Chocolate mousse with a dark cookie crust. Drake got a big kick out of it. He held his fork firmly in his hand and when Gregory wasn’t looking, acted as though he was shoveling it and hefting it into his mouth. With the discomfort she felt, it should have been enough to stop the giggles, but it wasn’t. In no time at all, Cami was laughing hysterically, snorting and gasping for air. Drake joined her and even with the three adults staring at them as if they had lost it, they couldn’t stop.
“You two, in my study,” Alex said sharply.
Hiccupping, Cami followed her brother out of the dining room into the closet-sized study. As soon as she entered, the giggles disappeared, just as Drake’s laughter. Laughter and this room did not mix.
He grimaced. “Sorry, sis. Didn’t mean to get you into trouble. But really. Chocolate mousse when he, well, you know what he does for a living.”
Snickering, Camille nodded. “Yes, I was a bit surprised myself.”
They both waited in front of the chair, listening to the front door close. Then their father’s footsteps came down the hall. He walked in, holding something behind his back. A little worry struck her stomach. They had been threatened in the past with a whipping with one of his crops. Her mouth dried up and her eyes bugged out. Uh-oh. Had they truly gone that far? He shut the door and walked over to his chair and sat down, placing the item he was holding on the chair arm. A plate of chocolate mousse.
She stared at it, part of her wanting to giggle and yet knowing that was beyond a bad idea.
Alex cleared his throat. “You know I despise rudeness. And being rude in front of guests makes it even worse. However,” he said, clearing his throat again and picking up the plate. “What was your mother thinking?”
Spluttering a laugh, Cami slammed her hand over her mouth. He looked up at her and winked. “The humor in this situation is not lost on me, dearest daughter. However, your rudeness does need to be dealt with.” He pointed to the corner. “Nose there. Hands on top of your head. You’ll be there for a while.” She quickly moved to do his bidding. His next words made her wince. “But you, my son, were the instigator. As such, grab the paddle.”
Drake didn’t say a word. He didn’t beg, or plead, or anything. Feet shuffled around and the first smack made her jerk. It was so loud! Twenty of the loud, ear-bending swats later, they stopped. “Go help your mother clean up,” Alex said and Drake dashed out of the room, his hands grasping his backend. From the sounds in the room, she knew her father put the paddle back and sat down again. There was the sound of a fork scraping across a plate and then a pause. “I can’t eat this,” he finally said and she giggled. “You’ve ruined chocolate mousse forever for me. Come here.” Turning around, she saw him with his arms outstretched. In two bounds she was plastered against him.
His arms wrapped around her and she burst into tears. As she hiccupped and gasped, she fought herself. She so wanted to tell her father everything, to hear him say he would make it okay. To have that safety she used to have. But she couldn’t do it. It might be the final straw for her parents and she really didn’t want to see what that would look like. Instead, she clung to him while the tears kept coming.
Chapter 2
Cami kept telling herself that she was keeping it together. At dinner or when around family, she laughed when they laughed, kept up appearances, and the only time she fell apart was in her bedroom. She would close the door, rush to her bathroom and scrub her face, hands, and lips. Every time she looked into the mirror, she tried to tell herself that everything was okay. After crying herself to sleep in her father’s arms after the one dinner, she focused on looking as though she was just fine.
When her mother found her a volunteer position with a local organization, she thanked her but never went to the meetings. As a new suitor came to dinner, she plastered on a half-smile, answered questions, and excused herself the moment dinner was through. After her third dinner with a potential suitor, food turned to ash in her mouth and to stop her stomach from lurching, she found it easier to force herself to throw up after every meal.
In the first week of July, a week after her last suitor had come to dine, she looked at herself in the mirror and grimaced as she scrubbed her face with a washcloth, making sure to rub roughly over her lips, trying to get them clean as she did so. Huge purple shadows lay under her eyes and the whole area around it looked like she had been in a fight. Her skin held a greenish tinge and over the last couple of days, she found that any quick movements made the world spin.
To add insult to injury, the new dresses that had just been delivered for her were too big. Just like the rest of her clothes were. She was losing weight and fast. Her hands shook as she leaned them on her bathroom counter. Just a few more days. All she needed was just a few more days to get up the courage to tell her folks about college. Then Xan would get her a condo and fly her to her new home. Everything would be great at that point. She could start eating again and life could sail on.
Pulling out her make-up case, she began a process that had become more important as each day went by. Cover-up, lots of cover-up, as well as thick foundation were required to hide how ill she looked. As she spread the slightly dark foundation over her skin, her phone buzzed. Putting down the cotton applicator, she walked over and picked up her little purple phone. Tears sprang instantly to her eyes. A picture of Xan with his arms around Kathy in front of their new home with a text from her brother.
Have you told Dad yet? I’ve been looking into condos near your school. I think I’ve found one. Checking it out next weekend. X
She tried to pull it together, but as she read his text, she couldn’t reply. How could she? Lying to Dad was bad enough. Lying to Xan was… she just couldn’t do it. He believed in her. Though lately she had the feeling that would change when he found out about all her lies. Her eyes blurred and she dropped to her knees, the phone dropping from her grasp.
How had this happened? Just a few months ago everything made sense. She was in love with a great guy – or who she thought was a great guy – only to have him turn out to be a jerk. Suddenly everything she had worked for in this town seemed stupid. Escape was her only option and the only way to do that was college. Applying late, she had been lucky to be accepted.
But now she wasn’t so sure. Accepted into a school that would probably kick her out when they found out her recommendations were forged and that her financial aid was as well? There were plenty of people in town who would have willingly written her a reference, but they would have mentioned it at some point to her family.
Lies, lies, and more lies. And every day, more piled on top of them. She couldn’t do this anymore. Rolling onto her side, she burst into tears.
“Cami, you’re—honey, what’s wrong?” Charlotte knelt next to her and pulled her close.
Camille couldn’t answer her so she just lay in her mother’s arms as she wept.
“Mom? Is everything okay?” Drake’s cautious voice made it worse and her sobbing grew louder.
“Get your father. Now.” Drake’s pounding steps on the stairwell filled her head, making it hammer as well. “Everything will be fine,” Charlotte crooned softly, rocking her back and forth. “Everything will be fine.”
Camille couldn’t believe it but she couldn’t pull away either. “Mom—” she managed to say before her stomach rebelled and she somehow ripped out of her mother’s arms and made it to the toilet in time to throw up bile.
“Alex, we need to take her to the hospital,” were the last words she heard before she passed out.
There was a lot of beeping and voices coming in and out of focus. Camille had no id
ea where she was, but she felt numb and that was such a pleasant feeling after the last few weeks that she floated along with it. Until she heard her elder brother’s voice.
“How long has she been like this?” he hissed.
“She’s been going downhill since the two of you left. We had no idea she was ill. She’s been in a coma for two days.”
“Mom,” he said and the anguish in his voice pulled at Cami and she felt the numbness slowly recede. “What can I do?”
“Just hope along with the rest of us, honey. Camille’s strong. Dr. Bretherton says her body just needs some time to repair itself. But… he says it looks like she might be bulimic.”
“What!”
“Shh.”
“Mom, you mean to tell me she’s been throwing up her food and nobody noticed?”
Xan shouldn’t blame their mother. It was her mistake, not her mother’s.
“Not her fault,” Cami mumbled.
“Camille!” several voices gasped and something cool dabbed at her forehead.
“How do you feel, honey?” Her mother’s soft voice drew her even further from the numbness.
“I don’t know. And I’m not bulimic.” She wasn’t. She had just thrown up the food so she wouldn’t get sick. Bulimic was for girls who thought they were fat. Cami knew she was now too thin. Surely that counted.
“What would you call throwing up your food?” Xan asked dryly, grasping one of her hands in his.
“I did it so I wouldn’t throw up.” Even as the words came out, she knew they wouldn’t understand. Maybe it was one of those things you had to experience to get. If she hadn’t forced herself to gag, her stomach would have rolled and tossed, making her nauseas for hours before it finally rebelled on its own. It had been easier to control it.
“Not making sense, little sister,” he said as his warm hand stroked her cheek.
“Drake, go tell Dr. Bretherton she’s awake?” her mother asked quietly.
Being in the hospital sucked. But even worse? Waking up on her second day to find a man she didn’t know parked next to her on a chair. With shoulder length black hair pulled back at his neck and deep gray eyes, his deeply tan, angular face spoke of his Native American ancestry. Even in her weakened state where she wasn’t taking notice of anything, she found him incredibly good looking. “Good morning, Miss Covington,” he said in a nice warm voice. “My name is Jerod Kinsley. The hospital has asked me to talk with you. I hear you’ve been having a hard time.”
She stared at him, not speaking.
“I understand if this is a bit overwhelming, but landing in the emergency room with a body chemistry that says you’ve been trying to kill yourself is not the way to get out of here and go home.”
“I wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
His eyes softened. “That’s good to hear. Can you tell me what you were trying to do?”
Her mouth opened. There was an openness to him she felt comfortable with, a quality that pulled at her making her think he could make all the bad things go away, but then she remembered he was a man. Clamping her lips shut, she shook her head.
There was a moment’s pause before he continued. “Would you feel more comfortable talking with a woman?”
She didn’t want to talk to anyone, but he was probably right. If they thought she was suicidal, they wouldn’t let her go until she convinced them otherwise. “A woman would be better,” she whispered.
“All right. There’s a part-time female therapist an hour away. I’ll call her and see if she can make the trip.” Standing up, he gazed at her for a moment. “You have a lot to live for, Camille Covington. Whatever you’re going through right now will go away in time. Don’t let it destroy you.”
She had no idea how to respond to that. How could she explain that her entire life was in shambles and just getting worse? That the more she had tried to dig herself out had just dug her in even further. Tears sprang to her eyes and she sniffled. He reached over and placed a box of tissues on her abdomen. With another kind smile, he turned and left. The moment the door shut behind him, she burst into tears. She just wasn’t sure why.
They kept her in the hospital for over a week to get her electrolytes and whatever other fancy words they used up to levels they felt comfortable with. Or at least that was what they said. She had the feeling they just refused to release her until the female doc gave her okay. Lila was nice enough, though not as kind and warm as Jerod had been. On day four, the therapist had caught her at just the right point and Cami had admitted to some, though not all, of her worries. Lila’s response was that Camille needed to talk to her folks about it. She had a hard time not shouting, “Duh!” That had been her whole problem from the beginning.
But thankfully, Lila must have listed her as sane because ten days after arriving, her parents finally took her home. Her clothing was even bigger now than it was the day they took her to the hospital. The term skin and bones had taken on a new meaning to Camille now that she rather resembled it. Finding Xan and Kathy at home just made her feel worse. Both of them were obviously worried and because of her stupidity, they had to leave their new home and fly half way across the United States.
She hoped they would just let her sleep. That turned out to be a no-go situation. When they got home, Charlotte set her up on their most comfortable sofa with her pillow and a blanket and everyone except Drake sat down around her. It was obvious there was a talk coming.
Her father, who sat directly in front of her and looked as though he had aged a decade while she had been gone, leaned forward. “Camille, we aren’t going to do a whole shebang here. You’ve just been released from the hospital and need to rest. But I know my daughter. You need to understand a few things or you’ll start worrying. So, first off we know a lot more than we did a week ago.”
Startled, she glanced at each one of them. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve discovered you’ve been accepted to college. That your brother was going to help find you a place to stay if you told us. And that these omissions you’ve been giving us have been ripping you apart. That’s why you fell apart a few weeks ago, isn’t it?” His deep blue eyes bored into hers, full of love but also not willing to take any evasion.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“All right. That’s a step in the right direction. I want you to give us the rest. Every last piece, Camille. Get it all off your chest. That’s what family is for. We can help share the burden. Tell us.”
Her lips quivered, but considering the fact that nobody looked at her as if she was crazy, she began to talk. Once she started, she couldn’t stop. It all poured out, crisscrossing in her need to expunge her fears and lies. Her sorrow over Damian, her worry about school, fear of leaving Hyacinth, wanting to leave Hyacinth, and then she got to the financial part and stopped. “I… um… forged your name on some documents,” she whispered, burying her face in her pillow.
“What documents?” Alex asked, his tone unchanged.
“Financial aid.”
Xander groaned, making her wince. “Sis, that was a bad idea.”
“I know.”
Slowly her father rubbed his chin between two of his fingers. “Xander and I will discuss this and figure out if there’s a legal way around that. If not, you’ll have to refuse their financial aid.”
Her head came up in surprise. “You’d let me go to school?”
He raised an eyebrow. “Of course I would. Though I don’t think the school you chose is quite right for you and I would have preferred you share with your mother and me your desire to go to college, I support you if this is what you wish to do.”
Gnawing on her lip, she figured she might as well get the rest of it off her chest. “I forged my recommendations, too.”
There was a slight pause before her father’s mouth formed unspoken words. He was counting. When he was angry, he counted until he lost some of it so that he wouldn’t take it out on his family. As his counting continued, she figured his anger was really up ther
e. Before he finished, Xander spoke.
“You’ll need to refuse the school, Cami.”
“But—”
“They’ll find out you forged the recommendations. Does being kicked out sound better to you?” Wincing at his clipped tone, she shook her head. He was right. That didn’t make it easy to hear. “So we know you will not be going to school this year. Maybe if you work on it and apply the right way, you can attend next year.”
“In the meantime,” Alex spoke, having calmed himself down, “you’ll be under strict guidance, young lady. I know that much of this was built upon Damian’s mistakes, but that doesn’t make it right. You will show us you can be trusted again and you’ll do a lot of volunteer work to make up for it. Now, can you answer this for me?”
She glanced up into his serious eyes and waited.
“Is it that you do not wish to marry? Or that you’re too afraid to trust after what Damian did to you?”
“I don’t know what I want,” she admitted.
“That’s the most honest thing I’ve heard yet. So maybe it’s time you learned.” He stood up. “You’ll be staying down here where we can keep an eye on you. Until you prove that you’re worthy of having your privacy returned to you, your bedroom and bathroom are off-limits unless someone else goes in there with you. And yes, that means that when you need to use the bathroom that you must tell one of us. Once your body is up to it, you’ll have chores to do every day and Charlotte will find volunteer opportunities. We’ll need a list of the forged recommendations as you will make that up to each person whose name you signed.” Sniffling as the enormity of what she would need to do to get out of this mess seemed too big, she was surprised as he lifted her up, sat down and pulled her onto his lap, holding her close. “And you won’t be doing it alone. We missed all the cues you’ve been giving us. And looking back, you were sending up warning flags all over the place. As such, we’ll work with you on all of it.” He kissed her forehead and hugged her tight. “Don’t worry, dearest daughter. Things will look better on the other side.” A sense of relief hit her and she leaned against him.