Salvage

by Debbie Civil

  Chapter 17

  For the first time since I’ve been staying at the mansion, I dread walking into my bedroom. Aside from the fact that Mom and I had just got into a fight, I probably have to tell her about the wedding. The thought that Peter and I will spend forever together fills me with so much joy, a wide smile spreads across my face. The joy propels me into the room, blanketing my heart. Mom’s words can’t hurt me.

  “Chelsea,” Mom says in a reprimanding tone. I have no idea what I did wrong. But I’m sure she’ll tell me.

  “What did I do now, Mom?” I ask in a pleasant tone.

  “What happened to your face?” I frown, look in the mirror and see a bruise on my left cheek. It is in the shape of a hand print.

  “Dad slapped me,” I say as if the thought doesn’t bother me. She glares at me.

  “No, he didn’t, Chelsea. What really happened?” Her question causes me to turn around. She’s still at the table, eating rice pudding. Her face is filled with agitation.

  “Mom, he slapped me. I wouldn’t make that up.” She frowns as if considering the merits of my words.

  “Why would he hurt you, Chelsea? He loves you.” Tears stream down her face, and her shoulders begin to shake. I have no idea how to handle her. Mom wasn’t an emotional wreck two years ago. Maybe the rich life is getting to her.

  “Mom, I made him mad,” I offer, just to make her feel better. She continues to cry as if she’d lost something. The muscles in my shoulders begin to tighten up, more reason I’m in dire need of a nap. Seriously, this is all too much. First, Dom insults me, Dad slaps me, and then the wedding. Although getting married is a joyous occasion, it feels so far off with a much-needed conversation looming over my head. Mom breaks down and cries like she hadn’t cried in years. Why can’t she be strong? Sighing, I walk back into the hallway and take the elevator to the first floor. I waltz into the living room and smile at the empty recliner. Tia is sitting on the couch, a book in her lap.

  “Hi Chelsea,” Tia greets in her usually whiny tone.

  “Hey. Have you seen my dad?” Carmen would have been a better person to ask. But I don’t feel like looking for her.

  “He’s in Grandma’s office,” she answers, frowning.

  “Why do you want to see him?” she asks.

  “Mom’s crying. I have no idea what to do.” Maybe Tia knows.

  “Oh, she’s having a break down?” she asks as if this isn’t a shock.

  “I guess so,” I answer, feeling that a good night’s sleep would be more preferable than dealing with an emotionally fragile mother.

  “I’ll tell him. You sit and rest,” Tia orders as she stands and drops her book on the couch. Before I can say a word, she hurries out of the room. I sigh and sit in the comfortable recliner. At least Tia’s dealing with the situation. I close my eyes, thinking that it feels better this way. The next thing I know, a gentle hand is caressing my cheek.

  “Wake up, sweetheart,” Peter says softly. I slowly open my eyes and smile sleepily up at him. Peter is beautiful. His face is filled with love, and his hair is messy. He’s wearing a black t-shirt and jeans. He smells wonderful.

  “Hey Baby,” I mumble faintly.

  “Come on, Chelsea. It’s time for you to go to bed,” he encourages.

  “But we need to talk,” I complain.

  “Not tonight, sweetheart,” Peter chuckles before scooping me up into his arms. I fall asleep before he lays me on the bed.

  I stretch, yawn and open my eyes. It’s morning. I glance around the room and am relieved that Mom isn’t in here. She has the nasty habit of talking as soon as my eyes open. Deciding that I need to change out of my horribly wrinkled dress, I slowly get out of bed and head to the bathroom. It’s time that I take a bath. Filling the tub, I dump bubbles in the water. I strip out of my clothes, stuff them in the laundry shoot and get in for a nice soak. Oh, man, the hot water is rewarding. The warm water seeps into my bones taking away the stress.

  After my much needed soak, I wrap a towel around me and walk out into the bedroom. Thank goodness, the woman isn’t here to dictate what I’m wearing. I decide to wear a blue t-shirt and black gym shorts, not exactly the most stylish outfit. But who cares? There’s a knock on the door, and I say “Come in.” Dad enters, dressed in a black suit. This is very surprising. His blue eyes are filled with caution. He looks as if he’s approaching a wild animal.

  “Chelsea, how are you?” he asks delicately. Anger bubbles to the surface.

  “What do you want?” My hostility doesn’t surprise him.

  “Chelsea, I have to talk to you,’ he says. He takes a seat at the round table. Feeling that there isn’t anything else to do, I take a seat beside him.

  “What is it?”

  “You don’t have to marry Peter. You can see him.” How dare he? His assumption that Peter and I are getting married because of him pisses me off. He thinks he controls who I can see? This man has control issues.

  “Dad, I love Peter. I want to be with him.” His eyes fill with sadness.

  “Look, Chelsea, I know what you’re going through. I did the same thing you did. Marrying Peter seems fun now. But Marriage isn’t easy. It’s hard, Chelsea. You’ve got to understand that.” He seems concerned about me. I can’t believe what I’m hearing.

  “Dad, I know hard. Being kidnapped is hard. Killing is hard. Being with Peter will be filled with challenges. But it’s what I want to do,” I say. He winces at my confession about killing. It’s as if Dad doesn’t want to acknowledge what I’ve been through. It was the same with the mugging. I find this odd.

  “Chelsea, what’s going to happen if you’re disinherited?” he asks.

  “I would work hard, just like every other person my age,” I answer. Dad sighs.

  “Fine, get married. But just consider this. If Peter were to leave you, he is entitled to half of your inheritance.” He announces as if it would matter to me. I sigh.

  “Dad, let it go, I’m going to marry Peter. He nods as if he understands where I’m coming from.

  “When’s the big day?” he asks. “Where’s your ring? Where will the two of you live? What school are you going to attend?” He pauses and allows the questions to chip at my resolve. Although Dad is right, I haven’t considered any of these things. I’m positive that Peter and I will talk all of this stuff over. As of now, I feel extremely unprepared. “There’s no need to rush, Chelsea. I won’t stand in your way, anymore. In fact, Peter is more than welcome to spend thanksgiving here,” he offers. Something about this doesn’t sound right. My father’s overwhelming desire to allow Peter and me to stay together seems odd. He has to be lying about this. That’s the only conclusion I come to. I’m about to open my mouth when Grandmother waltzes in, Bob on her heels. He still glances at me with suspicion, even after the kidnapping. He doesn’t face me anymore.

  “Ian, we need to talk,” Grandmother says. My father’s face goes pale, and I suspect something’s going on. Instead of asking questions, I allow the three of them to walk out of the room. Minutes later, Peter strolls in carrying a paper bag. I squeal and rush him. He chuckles before giving me a tender one armed hug.

  “Be careful sweetheart. You are going to crush breakfast,” he whispers. I chuckle into his shirt and pull back. He walks over to the roundtable and takes a seat. I sit beside him and look at him expectantly.

  “What’s in the bag?” I finally ask after a minute of Peter smiling at me. He chuckles and takes out a brownie wrapped in tissue paper. I smirk and am happy to see the junk food. Yum! For one day, I can eat something delicious. Forget about the disgusting oatmeal. I bite into the brownie and frown. Something has just clattered to the table. I look down at the table and pause. The ring is gorgeous with a gold band that has a flower pattern with a diamond in the center. Peter smirks.

  “Chelsea, I want to do this right. I know that I’m not a rich guy. In fact, I’m not even wealthy. But I know one thing. I love you. I also know that I can’t spe
nd a day without you. Chelsea, meeting you was the best thing that ever happened to me. I don’t think that I would have dealt with Patrick’s death had it not been for you. I also don’t think that I would have remained focused in school. I lived my life trying to make everyone happy. And never listened to what I wanted. But now, I’m finally going for what I want. And Chelsea, what I really want is you. Chelsea Rose Philips, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” Peter gets out of his chair and goes down on one knee. “Will you marry me?” His dark eyes are filled with hope and promise. I don’t know what to say. His speech was lovely. What do I say? How could I express how I feel about him? I place the brownie on top of the paper bag. I pick up the ring and smile down at it.

  “Peter, I would be honored to marry you,” I say, managing not to cry. He reaches up and gently plucks the ring from my fingers. He takes my left hand and slips the ring on into place. I smile down at him.

  “I love you,” he says, his eyes filling with moisture.

  “I love you too,” I say, my voice trembling. This is real. We are going to be together forever. I can feel it in my bones.

  “All right. Let me stand up,” Peter says as my new faience gets to his feet. I stand and wrap my arms around him. Holding my fiancé feels so amazing. It sounds irrational, but I want to jump into a car and run off to Vegas with him. Anything to give me the right to wake up beside him every morning. He’s mine. Peter and I will have a long wonderful life together.

  “Chelsea,” Peter says gently, to get my attention. I look up to peer into his beautiful face.

  “Yes.”

  “We need to talk about a few things,” he says. I pull away from Peter and sit down on the bed. The round table is just too formal. He frowns at the half- eaten brownie but joins me.

  “Peter, I love you. I always loved you. Adam was an obsession. I had a hard time letting him go, because he was all I knew. But you… I… You are the reason I believe that God is real. You are just what I needed. I don’t want you to doubt how I feel. I’m not going to stray, Peter. I’m not going to cling either. I want you because you are everything to me. I’m not clinging just because you are familiar,” I confess. He doesn’t ask me why I have said what I said. He knows that I’m answering all of the questions from his letter.

  “Chelsea, I didn’t go on a date while you were gone. Though, I had a lot of offers. You are important to me. I wouldn’t risk losing you,” he replies. I stare at him for a moment, then, smile.

  “Do you have an idea where you want to live?” I ask, remembering Dad’s slew of questions from earlier. Peter smiles.

  “No. But I was thinking that we would go apartment hunting. I have enough saved up for a security deposit plus first and last months’ rent. I have been preparing for this for some time,” he admits, a smile on his face. “Though I thought that this would come much later.”

  “Peter, do you want to marry me now? I don’t want to rush you. If you don’t…” He silences me with a long lingering kiss. Before we can get carried away, he pulls back.

  “Chelsea, I will do anything to keep you by my side. I love you. You are my life,” he says.

  “And you are mine,” I respond before giving him a soft kiss on his lips.

  “Chelsea, I promise that I will always be open with you. I won’t hide anything from you. I need you to promise me the same. I need you to be able to confide in me if you need anything,” he pleads.

  “I promise,” I agree, and I know that I won’t hurt myself anymore. There is no need because I truly believe that there is another way to deal with my grief.

  The door opens, and Tia pops her head in. She has Alec on her hip and smiles wide when I wave my left hand at her. Alec is also smiling, but I don’t think that his joy has anything to do with my new shiny ring. She walks in when she sees that she isn’t interrupting anything.

  “Hi, Tia,” Peter says. She hands Alec over to him, and Peter handles the toddler like a pro. My little cousin seems to like Peter. He doesn’t squirm much. Tia smiles at us.

  “What are your plans for today?” she asks us. Peter looks to me, then, grins.

  “My cousin Dan is going to go apartment hunting with us tomorrow,” he tells me. At least that’s a plan. I smile at Peter.

  “Sounds fun. What time are we leaving?” I ask.

  “Around noon. Today, I have to work,” Peter tells me, looking regretful.

  “Do you have a ride to Elmview?” I ask.

  “No. Well, it depends on if Bob is willing to chauffeur me around.” He doesn’t seem to like that idea too much. I guess Bob doesn’t have as many fans as I thought.

  “I will give you a ride. Then, I’ll visit Rain. Maybe we can go shopping,” I muse. Peter smirks. Tia’s expression grows thoughtful.

  “Or maybe you and I could go out to lunch. There’s a lot that I need to catch you up on.” My cousin’s offer makes Peter stare. It’s as if he has no idea what to say about it. The girl may like me. But we’ve never planned to go to eat a meal one on one. I owe her. She slapped Dad for me, knowing that Grandmother could have disinherited her. Grandmother isn’t a trustworthy person. She’s also sneaky and has a talent for holding grudges.

  “Okay. You can come along,” I offer. “But we’re having lunch in Elmview.” She frowns at me.

  “You are going to change, right?” I smirk and rush into the closet and change into a pair of blue jeans, a black t-shirt, and white sneakers. It feels like a relief to be in my own clothes. I sigh and feel comfortable as if my identity is sewn into the clothing. This rich crap isn’t me. I smile and walk into the room.

  “Hey folks, ready to go?” I ask. Peter stands, walks over to the round table and picks up the brownie. He hands it to me as I finish eating the chocolate goodness. I sigh in pleasure of the chocolate treat while Peter pulls a small zip lock bag of carrots out and begins to snack on them. Tia stares at us as if she’s never seen two people snack before.

  “I’ll bring Alec to his nanny. He’s not going to like the long car ride. I’ll meet you two down in the foyer,” she tells us before leaving. As soon as Tia leaves, I run toward Peter. He drops the pack of carrots onto the floor and wraps his arms around me. I hug my fiancé tightly, and he whispers that he loves me. I tip my face up and his mouth presses down on mine. The passion is overwhelming. I push Peter backwards, and he falls sideways onto the bed. I fall on top of him and begin kissing his cheeks, his nose, and his forehead. His arms wrap around my waist, and our lips collide. His tongue meets mine, and it’s like we are performing a passionate dance. His hands are beginning to wander up and down my sides. I sigh into his mouth as his hand slips under my t-shirt and begins drawing patterns on my back. I feel so loved by him. I feel as though I’m going to explode from the amount of the emotion that fills me. My heart is pumping so hard that it hurts. He’s mine, and I’m his. I’ve never felt anything like this before. I want to just lie here and kiss him. But we have somewhere to be. I kiss Peter one last time, then slide off of him and onto my side. Peter’s arms tighten around me. He sighs into my hair.

  “I really don’t want to go to work,” he confesses.

  “I don’t want you to go, baby. But you have to,” I say softly. The words come out in a disappointed tone.

  “Tia’s waiting for us,” he says.

  “Peter,” I say softly. “We can’t keep on getting carried away like this. I don’t want us to go too far. Especially, since we are in a house full of people,” I pointedly say.

  “I agree. And besides,” he begins, his dark eyes filling with a gleam. “Our wedding day is any day now. Maybe, we can be traditional.” The thought makes him smile. I just don’t want us to get caught in a compromising situation.

  “Sounds nice. And we need to figure out where we are going to honeymoon.” Peter nods.

  “I’ll take care of that,” he says before kissing me on the forehead and slipping out of bed. I sit up, catch my breath, and stand. Tia will be expecting us. As much as I wa
nt to keep her waiting, I know it isn’t polite. Peter must have a will of iron because he strolls out of the room first. I follow him out, and we head to the elevator.