by Jane Blythe
“It’s okay,” a voice was murmuring in her ear. “You’re okay, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m the sheriff. My name is Abe, Abe Black. You’re okay, Meadow.”
He knew her name.
How did he know her name?
She didn’t know him so how could he possibly know her?
Was he here to take her back?
She would rather live on the street, sleeping behind dumpsters, even after her baby was born than she would go back to that place.
She started to fight again, she wouldn’t go back, she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t.
“Shh, stopping fighting me, I don’t want to hurt you. Are you hearing me? Whoever you think I am, I’m not. I’m the sheriff here.”
Sheriff?
He was a cop?
Cops were good, right?
So if this man wasn’t lying and really was a cop, then he didn’t mean her any harm.
Slowly she stopped fighting, letting herself go limp as she rested back against the strong chest. She was breathing heavily, and her heart hammered in her chest like a jackhammer. It took a moment for her to get herself under control, but the man didn’t seem to mind, he loosened his grip on her, but his arms still circled around her.
“Your name is Meadow, right?” he asked. When she nodded he continued, “I was in the diner earlier when you were in there. I saw you talking with Penny when she gave you your meal. I hadn’t seen you around River’s End before so I asked her your name.”
That made sense.
It was a perfectly reasonable and logical way that he could have found out her name, and yet history had taught her to always expect something bad so this was no exception.
She was about to make him show her his badge or whatever it was that would prove he wasn’t lying and really was the sheriff when she realized something. He had been in the diner when she had been there, and she thought she vaguely recalled seeing a big man with red hair and a red beard sitting at the counter, and he had been watching when Penny brought her the food. She’d been suspicious then, but now she realized that the food wasn’t brought to her to prevent waste, this man had paid for it and asked Penny to deliver it to her.
“The soup, and the sandwiches, you sent them to me,” she said softly.
“You looked hungry,” he said, confirming her suspicions.
That was sweet of him.
Really sweet.
She was a stranger, he shouldn’t have noticed her at all let alone managed to figure out that she was hungry and do something about it.
“Thank you,” she said. It didn’t seem like enough but what else could she do? She didn’t have anything to give him but her gratitude and that he could have in spades. “That was so nice of you.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, finally releasing her and standing, offering her his hand.
Meadow hesitated but decided she had nothing to lose and this man seemed to be trustworthy, so she took his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. It was the fact that he had not only bought food for her but been thoughtful enough to try to make sure she wasn’t embarrassed by telling the waitress to tell her the food was going in the bin if it wasn’t eaten. To pay attention to something so small as her feelings he’d have to be a good guy. Right?
Nervous and embarrassed for him to know what a mess she had made of her life, that she was pregnant and homeless, with no place to go and no money to buy food, she fixed her gaze on the dirty ground and waited to see what he was going to do.
“Would you like to come and spend the night at my place? I have a spare room, and you can’t stay out here, it’s winter, and you’re pregnant, so you’re welcome to come home with me, take a shower, have a hot meal if you’re still hungry, spend the night in the spare room, then we can talk in the morning, figure out a more long term plan.”
She just stared at him.
Had he just asked her to go home with him?
She couldn’t go home with him, she didn’t even know him. He was a stranger, and it was trusting a stranger who seemed trustworthy that had gotten her into this mess in the first place.
And yet what else could she do?
She couldn’t stay out here, and the idea of a shower was a tempting one. To scrub every inch of her skin and wash her hair, it sounded delightful, and it was enough to have her wavering. Maybe she could go, have a shower and a meal, sleep in a real bed, and then she could be gone in the morning before the sun rose.
“I don’t have anything to pay you with,” she said, then lifted her hand where there was a diamond ring on one of her fingers, it wasn’t much, but she had been wearing it when she ran, and it was at least something. “I could give you this,” she said, pulling it off and holding it out so he could see it. “It’s not much, the diamond is small, but it’s all I have to pay you with.”
The man—Abe she thought he’d said his name was—took the ring and Meadow was sure he was going to accept it as payment for his generous offer. But instead of pocketing it, he reached out and took hold of her hand, sliding the ring back onto her finger.
“I’m not doing this because I want you to pay me back. You need help, I’m in a position to be able to offer you the help that you need. You don’t have to give me anything in return.”
“But,” she began in protest. In her experience no one was that generous. If she took him up on the offer she suspected he would end up wanting something in return. If it wasn’t cash or jewelry, then she suspected she knew what it was.
“No buts, you can’t stay out here all night, so if you’re willing, let’s head back to my place,” he said gruffly.
Despite the gruff tone he had done two nice things for her now, he’d bought her dinner and tried to make sure she wouldn’t feel embarrassed about a stranger paying for her food, and now he was offering up his home to her so she wouldn’t have to sleep on the street. It was clear he felt sorry for her, but was pride enough to keep her from accepting this generous offer?
Although she knew that she was putting herself in a potentially vulnerable position, she would be alone and at the mercy of a man who was so much bigger than she was, he had been nice to her, and she thought that she could trust him. He was a sheriff after all.
“Okay,” she agreed, still a little hesitant. “Th-thank you, that’s really nice of you.”
“Just doing my job,” he said briskly, shrugging out of his coat and draping it over her shoulders. “Let’s get going, you’re cold, we should get you indoors as quickly as possible.”
With that, he turned and started walking down the alley. Meadow trailed along behind him, still wondering if this was a good idea but making no move to say no or tell him that she couldn’t go with him.
She didn’t have good instincts.
She had made mistakes in her life.
She had regrets.
Some which would follow her around for the rest of her life, and going home with this man, who she knew absolutely nothing about, might end up being the biggest regret of her life.
But it didn’t feel wrong.
It felt right.
A shower, a meal, a bed, the simple things in life, but the ones she had been missing the most. Then after she had a good night’s sleep she could be gone and out of here before he was even out of bed.
Or maybe she would finally find the one thing she had been searching for her whole life.
Love.
That was all she wanted—it was all anyone wanted—to be loved and to love in return.
Maybe this tough, gruff, but sweet guy would be the one to love her.
Or she would have tempted fate too many times, and he would be the one to finally destroy her.
* * * * *
11:19 P.M.
Why was he doing this again?
What made him think this was a good idea?
Abe knew that when his two younger brothers found out that he had brought a woman home to stay with him, he was never going to hear the end of it.
If his parent
s found out, his mother would be planning a wedding before he could blink no matter how many times he told her that he was just helping out a person in need. He was thirty-three and the oldest of four kids, none of whom were married, and his mom wanted grandbabies while she was still young enough to enjoy them.
Although he didn’t want to burst his mom’s bubble, he didn’t foresee a wife and kids in his future. He’d been engaged once, and he’d been burned. It wasn’t an experience that he wished to repeat, not even to give the mother he adored the grandchildren she longed for.
Meadow was quiet in the car’s passenger seat, and Abe cast a surreptitious glance her way. She was sitting straight, her back pressed up against the leather seat, her ankles were crossed, and her hands were folded and resting in her lap. She was nervous, anxious, and yet she had trusted him. She didn’t know him and yet she had willingly got into the car with him and accepted his offer, so despite what had happened to her, she hadn’t lost her faith in mankind.
He liked that.
He respected that.
He wished he could have that same attitude.
“So,” he said slowly, hoping to break the tension and put Meadow at ease, and to find out a little bit more about her, “I know your name is Meadow, but that’s all I know about you.”
She began to fidget, picking at the hem of her coat. “My last name is Smith, I’m twenty-four and pregnant,” she said, stating the obvious as she rested her shaking hands on her stomach. “I don’t know, that’s it I guess.”
So much for trying to find out more about her, still having her in his house would certainly help him get her talking.
He hoped.
Because Meadow couldn’t live with him forever.
He needed to find out who was responsible for hurting her because she was a victim—he was as sure of that as he was that she was sitting beside him—and he had to save victims.
Save them and send them on their way.
“Here we are,” he said as he turned off the tree-lined road and up into his driveway.
When he parked in front of his cabin Meadow clapped her hands in delight. “Oh, it’s so cute.”
“It’s a nice cabin,” he agreed. When he had moved back here after leaving the military, he and his dad and brothers had built this place themselves. Every time he came here he felt that connection to his family. Family was important, family was there for you when you had to pick up the pieces of a shattered life, family was what rallied around you and helped you rebuild that shattered life.
“Do you live here alone?” Meadow asked, but there was no fear in her face or her voice, he didn’t know why she wasn’t afraid of him, but he took that as a sign that she was going to be okay.
“Yes, just me,” he said as he turned off the engine and got out, walking around to open her door for her, his mother had taught him to be chivalrous. Meadow climbed out of the car as soon as he opened the door, but she didn’t move toward the house. It was like she was awaiting permission and his suspicions that she had been abused grew. “I’ll give you the grand tour.”
When he started walking she followed suit, trailing along behind him up the steps and across the porch. Since this was River’s End he hadn’t bothered locking the house, so he opened the front door right up and stepped into the hall. Meadow followed and stood silently beside him, waiting for him to take the lead.
“Stairs lead up to the second floor. My bedroom is the one on the right so you can take the spare bedroom on the left. It has its own bathroom so you can have some privacy while you take a bath or a shower, I’ll get you clean towels from the linen closet, and I think there are some of my mom’s toiletries from when she and my dad stayed here while they had their place repainted up there, I’m sure she won’t mind you using them. Down here the living room is on the right, you can watch some TV or use the laptop if you want, and the kitchen is on the left, there’s a laundry room off it, and we can throw your things in the washer, I’ll give you some sweats to wear. If you’re hungry I can make you something to eat, or you’re welcome to make yourself something.”
“I am a little hungry,” she said. Her blue eyes watched the floor intently, then popped up briefly to meet his like she might be told that she shouldn’t be hungry after eating earlier.
“Why don’t you go and look in the cupboards, see what you want, and I’ll pop upstairs and grab something for you to change into after you take a shower.” He wasn’t usually the one who dealt with victims in cases. It wasn’t that he was bad at it, it was just that he was much more comfortable with people who didn’t need handholding than those who did. And he suspected that despite her trusting nature, Meadow Smith needed quite a lot of handholding.
“Are you sure it’s okay for me to go looking through your kitchen?” Meadow asked timidly.
“Sunshine, if it wasn’t okay I wouldn’t have said it.” He winked at her, then headed up the stairs. His mom was good with people, and she was in need of a new project now that the youngest Black child, Dahlia, had moved away permanently. He knew that Mom had been hoping to convince Dahlia to come back here after she graduated but that was never going to happen. Maybe tomorrow he’d speak with his mother, see if she wouldn’t mind spending a little time with Meadow, maybe with another woman she’d be more likely to open up.
Abe opened his closet door and grabbed an old sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants. They’d be several sizes too big and she’d practically be swimming in them, but they would do for now. When he spoke with his mom in the morning he’d ask her if Dahlia had left any clothes behind that Meadow could borrow, she was about the same size as his sister, and they’d do until he got a chance to take her shopping.
Take her shopping.
He was acting like there was something between them that went beyond just him helping her out. That had to stop because there wasn’t anything more to it. Meadow was a beautiful woman, and now that he knew she was older than he’d first thought, he couldn’t deny that he was attracted to her, but he wasn’t looking for anything beyond a roll in the hay, and she was in no position for that kind of thing.
Taking the clothes with him, he headed back downstairs where he found Meadow standing at the counter chopping vegetables. She didn’t notice him right away, and he took a moment to just stand and watch her. Her face had relaxed, and she chopped with practiced ease that suggested she did this often.
She straightened and turned to pick up the pot she’d put next to the stove when she saw him. “Uh, I found some vegetables in your fridge, I hope it’s okay to use them.”
Abe strolled over and took a seat at the table. “What did I say, sunshine?”
“That I could go and look in the cupboards, see what I want,” she said, and it didn’t go unnoticed that she quoted him word for word.
“There you go then. Here are the clothes, sorry they’ll be too big for you, but they’ll do for tonight. When you take a shower leave the dirty clothes outside the bathroom door, and I’ll throw them in the washer. What are you making?”
“I’m going to cook the vegetables in a little water, just until they start to soften, then I’ll add a little flour, just enough to thicken it a bit, then I’m going to put them on some pastry in a pie pan, make a kind of vegetable pie,” she explained, her azure eyes twinkling.
“You like cooking,” he said, it was written all over her face, and that gave him an idea. She had been uncomfortable about not being able to pay him something, he was sure that she would love it if he could get her a job, and he knew just the place.
Meadow paused, an odd look crossing her face and she nodded slowly. “I guess I do,” she said like she had never even thought about it before. “I’m making enough for two, if you want some,” she said, giving him a shy smile.
“Sounds nice,” he said, smiling back and hoping that his decision to help her didn’t end up hurting her instead. She was looking at him like he was her Prince Charming, riding in on a white horse to make all her problems go away and that
couldn’t be further from the truth.
He wasn’t a prince.
He was a gruff, emotionally distant bachelor who enjoyed his privacy.
February 4th
2:37 A.M.
The whip whistled as it flew through the air.
Even though she had been expecting it, the sting as it made contact with her bare skin made her wince and cry out.
She knew it was a bad idea, she knew it was only going to make him angry, she knew it was only going to lead to more pain, but there was only so much she could take, and Carla had already well and truly reached her limit.
His hand curled around her neck, and he squeezed enough to make it difficult for her to draw a full breath. She would have clawed at his hand, tried to get it away from her neck but she couldn’t. He had tied her wrists together with rope that dug into her flesh every time she moved, then secured them above her head so they were stretched tight. He had barely given her enough space to stand flat on her feet and every time he hit her and she stumbled, it yanked painfully on her shoulders.
“Did I give you permission to make a sound?” he growled at her, his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath hot and putrid on her skin, and he spat a little as he spoke.
How did she answer that?
If she assumed that was permission to speak and answered, but he hadn’t really wanted her to then she would be punished again.
But if she assumed he wanted her to remain silent, and she didn’t answer, but he really had wanted her to then she would be punished.
It was a no-win situation.
Her whole life was beginning to feel like one great, big no-win situation. Damned if she did and damned if she didn’t.
Deciding she would wait to see if he was going to give her a clue as to what he wanted from her she just stood there, trembling, silent tears rolling down her cheeks, breathing heavily from pain and fear.
“I asked you a question,” he roared, picking up a pair of pliers and putting them on one of her nipples and twisting so hard she shrieked. “Another sound? Did I ask you to make a sound?”