by Kira Blakely
“Hmmm…” I mused his answer. “You’ve never failed?”
“Yes, plenty of times—but no one ever noticed. I never crossed a finish line unless I was in first place.”
“Lordy, that’s quite an ego you’re carrying around there.”
“Not at all. I just pride myself on my image and people don’t respect losers, so I make it a point to never fail with a witness.”
“Ah,” I pointed out, “but now I know your secret, so I’ll be watching. Your game is up.”
“Have you considered that I’ve never failed, and I’m only making this up to divert your attention?”
“It’s possible, but totally unnecessary.”
“Why’s that?”
“I have no reason to want you to fail. I’m on your side.”
He stopped breathing as the words sank into his ego-centric brain. Before he recovered, I added, “You’ve never had anyone on your side who wasn’t paid to be there, have you?”
When he answered, there was a raw realization in his voice. “No, I guess I haven’t.”
I didn’t let him dwell on it. I’d made my point, and we both knew it. I crawled into that well of comfort between his chest and his arm and sighed in contentment. Tipping my face toward his cheek, I kissed him and settled back to go to sleep.
“Night,” I whispered, vocally turning down the house lights so he could step off the stage and once again return to his internal thoughts.
“Night,” he responded automatically and I knew by the fact that he didn’t change his position, he was mulling over everything we’d just said. But, for once, he was at the center of his thoughts—not me or who I was. Again, I recognized that circuitous routes definitely had their merits.
* * *
He was drunk again. I knew it as soon as I heard his footsteps hit the front porch. He wasn’t lifting his feet to move forward; he was kicking the paint-worn wood as if it was responsible for his dissatisfaction with life. When I heard his foot kick the door, I knew the focus of his anger had changed. Now it was her turn to be responsible—to minimize his conscience and feed his ego.
I hoped to God she was sleeping and that he would ignore her. I hoped that this once he might be too drunk to make it to their bedroom and collapse on the davenport, or better yet, the floor. That way maybe he’d die and we could call the men in the white coats and they’d clean up the mess. They would take out the trash and we’d remain behind—safe, untouched, and free.
The steps dragged past my bedroom door, and I knew my prayers would go unanswered—again. I heard him bellow her name and her sleepy response stole her excuse and put her in the harness of hell. The lamp crashed to the floor, and I heard him curse as he’d probably cut himself.
Then came the sound I hated the most—the crack of his hand slapping her and her cry as I knew she was trying to back away from him. He screamed her name, amidst layers of curse words and garbled drunk talk that made no sense to anyone but him. The metal springs of their bed cried out as he flung himself upon her—her cries of “No, no,” going unheeded.
What was I to do? If I slipped out into the night, it would be leaving her to his mercy—and he had none. None for her, and certainly, none for me. I could leave; that part would be easy. Could I stay hidden, though? He would find me. He wouldn’t rest until he punished me in front of her so that she would suffer, knowing it had been her fault.
I wondered briefly if I left, whether that would rob him of that excuse? I knew it wouldn’t. People like him made everything rot—even the good and kind people who tried to take care of him. The rot came from him, spreading like a disease if you were within hearing. I could hear the rot spreading to her—it had no smell or visibility. No… it was a sound—a hideous squeal from the devil himself as it overtook her.
There were hands on my shoulders, and I was being jerked upright. “Elspeth! Wake up! Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Wake up!”
I sucked in a breath of clean air, but even so, bent over the edge of the bed and retched. “Oh! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I’ll clean it right up!” I pushed the covers back from my feet and flew to stand up, trying to orient myself and find a bucket or a cloth to clean up the mess.
“Forget that! Come back here. Are you sick? What’s wrong? You look like a child, and you’re shaking.”
I turned to look at him and realized there was no creaking mattress. I looked down and there was no broken lamp on the threadbare carpet beneath my bare feet. I opened my mouth to speak, but knew that silence was the only refuge.
The look on his face was different this time. It almost looked like concern. He came at me, but when his arm raised, it was to scoop me up and hold me against his chest. He strode from the room, pausing to push the hair back from my face and the next sensation I felt was water. Warm, comforting water.
I laid my cheek into his chest and the safe place came back to me. I felt myself lowered until my feet were touching warmth beneath and he began to remove my clothes, as well as his own. I knew it was useless to fight—it would only anger him more. But… but this was different. He wasn’t tugging at me, wasn’t ripping my clothing away in his haste to join our bodies. He was pulling the cloth gently, with respect, and his hands held the smell of soap as he rubbed my entire body slowly, lovingly.
The water stopped then and a thick towel the size of a tablecloth was wrapped around me. He picked me up again and this time, when he put me down, it was into the layers of a clean, soft bed. He climbed over me to pull me against him, tucking the blankets around me until I was cocooned. I was safe. No one was screaming. There was no rot.
Chapter 23
Finn
I held Elspeth against me until she finally quit shaking and drifted off to sleep. Once I’d figured out she wasn’t sick, I knew it had been a nightmare. One helluva traumatic one, if her screams were any indication. She hadn’t been able to snap out of it even when she was awake again—standing there like a naughty child who had gotten sick and instead of sympathy, she’d been punished.
It might have been my need to find a history for her that made me believe she might have remembered something through that dream. If that were true, I wanted to know and to help her. How much of what she’d felt in the dream was real and how much was simply a nightmare’s magnifying glass? I didn’t want to impose on her privacy. She’d gone to some length before we fell asleep to make me understand that she was feeling violated. I won’t say I was innocent, but I had told myself that this quest for her past was for her benefit. I knew I was lying to myself.
I dozed fitfully for the rest of the night, being careful to keep her covered and feeling safe. Sometime just before sunrise, I slipped quietly out on my side of the bed and headed to the kitchen. I brewed coffee, scrambled some eggs, toasted some bread and headed to her bedroom with a tray, carrying both our breakfasts. I knew she was an earlier riser than me and wanted to be there when she woke up.
I found her sitting up in bed, pillows stacked at her back and staring off into the space before her. It startled me at first, but eventually, she realized I’d come in and looked up to smile at me.
“How are you feeling?” I asked, concerned.
She pursed her lips and shook her head. “So, it wasn’t a nightmare. I puked all over your floor. I’m so sorry, Finn. I’ll get right up and clean it.”
“Forget it. Really. I have people for that and have been meaning to change out the carpet in there anyway. Here, I brought us some breakfast, if you’re up to it?”
She tilted her head, and I could see she was appreciating my gesture. “I’m fine. Not sick. Not now, at least.”
“Want to talk about it?” I opened the door to conversation but would respect whatever she wanted.
“Talk about what?” Her face was void of artifice. Maybe she didn’t even remember. If that was the case, I wouldn’t prod her.
“Just wondering if you felt better this morning and wanted to get out and do something?” I thought I covered the gap quite nea
tly.
She pointed to the window. “That sounds great but have you looked outside today?” I set the tray down on the bed and went to pull the curtains open. Apparently, we were in the midst of a blizzard for the snow had obscured most of the landscape and the winds were in a fury as they blew anything they could pick up against the glass.
“Oh,” I murmured.
“Are you sure you want to eat in here? We can eat at the dining table if you like.”
“Nope,” I said in a lighthearted voice as I leap-frogged the food tray carefully and grabbed the remote. I found the local news channel and handed her one of the cups of coffee and a plate. “I like eating in bed, don’t you?”
She shrugged. “I think you might be right. A great morning to snuggle in late.” She bit into the toast and gingerly sipped the coffee. Then a thought occurred to her. She put the cup down and hurriedly said, “I’m not sick or anything. So, don’t worry, you won’t catch anything. I probably just ate too much at dinner,” she rationalized, and I let her.
It seemed easier and apparently, she didn’t want to discuss it or didn’t remember it at all. I wished I could stick a flash drive into her ear and download all the info trapped in that beautiful brain.
The weather reporter was getting every inch of viewership he could muster with dire warnings about the condition of the roads, expected snow totals, and a downright insistence that people not leave home except for an emergency.
“Say, I’ve got an idea,” I began as it formed in my head. “I think it’s about time you are around some people other than me. How about if I call a few of the neighbors and invite them over for a game night? We can play cards, watch a movie in the theatre, drink a little beer, and you can get to know them. After all, it might come up from time to time that I have to go into the city for a day on business, and I’d feel better if you knew someone around here in case you needed help.”
“Are you planning that I’ll fall down the stairs or forget and go swimming in Lake Ice Cube out there?” she teased me.
“C’mon, don’t make fun. You know it’s my job to look after you.”
That seemed to take her breath away because she froze and stared at me, as if trying to tell whether I was being serious. “So, what do you say? We can whip up some popcorn and beer and just make it a casual get-together.”
She seemed satisfied that I was sincere and slowly nodded. “If you think that’s a good idea.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Well, you know…” She let the sentence trail off, suggesting there was something to be discussed about her before she was to meet people who knew me.
“Don’t worry. They’re great people. All successful or they wouldn’t be living here, you know. Bright, great conversationalists, well-traveled, connoisseurs of almost anything.”
She nodded slowly and in doubt.
“Aw, c’mon. You pop in and get your pretty little self presentable, and I’ll even do the dishes after I make a few phone calls.” I didn’t give her a chance to argue or rationalize why she shouldn’t meet anyone. I hadn’t really planned on it myself—it was one of those spontaneous things that simply felt right to me.
I gathered up the breakfast things and kissed her forehead on my way to the kitchen. I frowned a bit when faced with the dishwasher—unsure what went in and what didn’t. I simplified and put everything in it. I could just replace anything that got ruined.
A few phone calls later and a dozen people had agreed to the impromptu party. I knew they were all anxious to check out my house and the dark-haired nymph who was undoubtedly the talk of the town. I’d never had more than an overnight guest, so there was importance to these actions.
Most of all, I wanted to get Elspeth’s mind off whatever had gone through her head the night before. It had been bad enough to make her ill, and we didn’t need any repeat pain.
I called the housekeeping company I used, and they were only too glad to come by and remedy anything that was amiss. As an afterthought, I called caterers as well and asked them to put together some party snacks, casual, but filling. I didn’t want to pile expectations onto Elspeth in case she was still recovering from the previous night.
As the crews arrived, I kept Elspeth busy with a swim in the pool and then asked her to pick out a small collection of films the guests could choose from.
I’d had the home theatre installed and ordered every film available on DVD. The streaming this close to the lake was sometimes questionable and I liked the access to every film I could possibly want. They were catalogued by name and genre—a chore that Elspeth seemed to adore carrying out.
I overheard her enthusiastic, small voice several times claiming, “Oh, I always wanted to see this one.” Another clue, but I was beginning to think of these as learning more about Elspeth the woman, instead of Elspeth, the woman who may have a hidden past. That approach seemed fairer, more wholesome, and certainly assuaged my conscience.
“Do I look okay?” she asked softly.
I turned to see possibly the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. “Jesus! You look gorgeous!”
She smiled with pleasure at the compliment and even pirouetted for my benefit. She was wearing the lightest shade of baby blue imaginable, perfectly setting off her huge blue eyes. Her outfit was a one-piece body suit, cut low enough in the front to enhance her cleavage without sacrificing class. Her beautiful hair was French-braided down the back of her head and then fell over her shoulder in soft curls, pierced in the braid with tiny sequined clips. Her makeup was light, but enhanced her pouty lips and her angel’s complexion begged to be kissed.
She would blow away any woman who would be attending later. I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
“They’ll be here any minute. I’ve ordered a limo van to pick them each up and take them home. No point in dealing with this weather and that way, they can drink as much as they like.”
“What do I do? I mean, I’ve never been a hostess before,” she asked and I heard the insecurity in her voice.
“Nothing. Just be yourself.” As soon as I said it, I realized the irony of my words. I didn’t want to make it worse by trying to restate it, so I let the words lie there and moved toward her, giving her a hard hug and tickling her cleavage with my lips. This seemed to please her, and I couldn’t wait for the guests to arrive.
The doorbell rang and I opened it wide, letting in the flood of neighbors in their furs and designer boots. I had one of the caterers double as a maid, asking that she take their coats and hats as they arrived. I pulled Elspeth toward me and put my arm over her shoulder to make her feel included, not to mention to lay my claim over her.
Don and his wife, Peetie, were the first through the door. “Don, Peetie, I’d like you to meet Elspeth,” I began, hesitating only when it came to explaining our relationship. I decided to skip that information entirely. I wasn’t sure how Elspeth would take that, but thought she might appreciate it.
Elspeth smiled and extended her hand and the couple shook it. “How beautiful you look, Elspeth,” Peetie said, breaking the ice. “Elspeth, an unusual name. Is that a family name?”
I felt Elspeth’s knees buckle oh so slightly beside me and kept a firm grip on her hand. “Very distant,” I improvised and took the question off the table.
I physically turned to face the next couple, Bev and Dean Shatton. Dean was a notorious flirt, and I knew he would appreciate the vision of the beautiful woman next to me. I wanted him to see she belonged to me and that I wouldn’t take kindly to anyone attempting to be “helpful” if I happened to be out of town. I introduced them and watched as his eyes traveled her length, coming to rest at her bosom. He finally realized there was a pause in the conversation and looked to my face. He read my look, and his eyes immediately went to the floor as they moved past.
Neenah and James were next up and while I liked James, Neenah fancied herself the social auditor for the area. She was quick to make a judgement and if she chose to befriend you, you were in for
good. If not, you may as well forget her name because she’d never speak to you again. James was the money in their household and it had bought him an intelligent and beautiful wife, even if she had the personality of a rattler.
I urged Elspeth to take Neenah’s hand and I suggested, “Neenah knows anyone who is worth knowing, sweetheart. Neenah, I hope you’ll look after her when I have to return to the city from time to time,” I made my intention perfectly clear. Neenah, having received her adulation was now Elspeth’s anointed patroness.
The last two couples lived on either side of us and were seldom available, both having grandchildren and being a good deal older than us. It only seemed appropriate to include them in our party, and I was glad I hadn’t invited any more, as Elspeth was showing signs of being overwhelmed.
I suggested we all go downstairs and noticed that the men all hung back and watched Elspeth as she descended. It was an unspoken admiration that only I was aware of. Well, perhaps Neenah picked up on it, too. She was pretty good at that sort of thing. I caught her eye, and she smiled and winked. Yes, she was in on it.
Once downstairs, I invited everyone to pull a mug of their favorite craft beer on tap, and there were platters of snacks staged around the room. The women decided to watch a film while the men agreed they would break into two groups; one playing poker and the other pool. I opted for pool so I could move around and keep an eye on Elspeth.
At the moment, she was the center of attention as the women chose from her short list of films to watch. I heard Neenah’s voice towering over the others and felt relief that she’d taken Elspeth under wing. Even Neenah was eventually drowned out by the soundtrack from the film.
I had the caterer filter in and out with trays of snacks and refills of beer or wine. I noticed that Elspeth was drinking iced water, which surprised me. She was choosing to keep her wits about her. I think if I’d been in her place, I would be looking for liquor to calm my nerves. She sat quietly in her heavily-padded seat and intently watched the film.
I lost every game I shot, but it didn’t matter. This was all about watching my girl and seeing how she reacted and was received. I had noticed that she guided the women into the theatre and I knew why. She wouldn’t need to talk or account for who she was or how we came to meet.