Broken Seed

by R J Machado De Quevedo

  “I don’t have a wobble in my voice,” I said defensibly.

  Darn it, my voice wobbled just trying to deny it!

  David laughed louder. “Okay, if you say so.”

  “Glad I could amuse you,” I huffed, a little embarrassed. I was still as easy to read as ever.

  Great.

  Guess even the hand of God on my life wouldn’t wipe away all my human quirks. But then again, would I want him to? That’s what made me, me. Wasn’t it? I didn’t plan on being perfect. That would be a hopeless goal to set. I’m a realist, not a fantasist.

  “So how about it, Bishop? Want to hang out with me and be my friend?” David said, drawing out the word friend with a slight tease to his warm voice. “I’ll pick you up, or we can meet. Whatcha say? I promise a very friendly and respectful evening.” David’s voice was totally serious now, no hint of teasing and no wobble to be found. I could almost see him holding up his fingers in the boy’s scout salute of honor. Apparently, I didn’t make him the slightest bit nervous.

  I supposed it would be easier to be together around other people than it would to be alone at the restaurant for hours cleaning, getting hot and sweaty, and having to help each other occasionally. We might even end up stuck there late into the night and what if we accidently bumped into each other while we were cleaning? What if I slipped and he had to catch me up in his arms again and if…

  Stop it, Melanie! Get a mental grip, girl!

  Considering what had happened there in the walk-in the other day, maybe this was a blessing in disguise. It might be best to avoid the temptation of alone time all together for a while. Until the side effects of supernatural lust wore off.

  This isn’t side effects. It’s how you really feel about him. It’s called attraction. A human chemical reaction to a hot guy who likes you. Duh, Melanie. Just keep it in check and no harm will come of it.

  Great. I was scolding myself already, and I hadn’t even done anything wrong yet!

  Hmmm, yet?

  Oh, stop it!

  “That would be nice. But—” I started to say.

  “Cool! How about I pick you up in about an hour and take you somewhere to eat first. Then… we can go see monster trucks at the arena. I just so happen to have two tickets here,” David said confidently. I could almost see him in my mind slapping the tickets on his hand with a slanted half smile, proud of himself for having a plan for our evening with such short notice.

  “Just happened to have? Really? How convenient,” I said, teasing.

  “Well, you never know when you might want to take a friend to see old cars get smashed to bits and sit in an overcrowded arena with deafening music blasting so loud you have to use sign language to hear what your date, oh, sorry, I mean your friend has to say,” David said with a smile in his voice.

  “Friend, huh?” I asked.

  “Definitely, a friend. And hopefully someday, something more,” David said, his voice growing serious and a little deeper.

  I swallowed and wet my lips, my nerves coming back a little stronger this time. I didn’t know what I should say, so I ignored the obviously baited comment and resorted to the mere fact I shouldn’t start dating him yet with Jill’s gang out there trying to find me and my father on the loose like a vicious animal that needed to be put down. This sucked. I really wanted to go hang out with David. But it wasn’t safe yet.

  Maybe once I get my CCW, I’ll feel more capable of protecting myself from them and I can spend time with David.

  Oh, God! I don’t want to have to wait. It isn’t fair!

  “I really want to go David. But I can’t. Please don’t think I’m trying to brush you off or play games, because I’m not! I just…I just can’t right now. It isn’t you. God, that sounds so cliché. But it’s true. My life—” I didn’t know how to say this, and I could hear the pleading in my voice for him to understand.

  “Your life is complicated and you need some time to sort some things out?” David kindly volunteered.

  “Yes, exactly. I…I do like you, David. The timing just isn’t right yet—for me.” I added. My heart felt like it was being crushed. I hadn’t known how disappointed I would feel to turn him down again. It had never felt like this before, and I had turned him down a lot.

  Girl, you finally admitted to yourself how much you like him since then. It feels different because you are different.

  “Melanie Bishop, just hearing you say you like me is more than enough reason for me to wait. I’ll see you in class then?” David said, sounding hopeful with no trace of agitation or rejection.

  “Thank you for being so understanding,” I said with relief. I was grateful he wasn’t taking it badly or like I was toying with him. I felt my mood start to turn hopeful and ride that edge of anticipation of when we could hang out—as friends.

  “Hey, Bishop?” David asked, his voice growing softer.

  “Yes, David?”

  “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome. But thanks for what?” I asked, a little confused.

  “For wanting to spend time with me tonight even if you can’t. I appreciate that you aren’t trying to brush me off. I can hear the sincerity in your voice and it’s nice to hear, honestly. It wouldn’t have surprised me if you freaked out about what we almost did,” David said quietly as if he was afraid to scare me off with the mere mention of it.

  “Oh,” I said, the same embarrassment leaking into my good mood.

  “I didn’t bring it up to make you feel uncomfortable or to hint for anything, Mel. I just wanted you to know I recognize how hard it was for you to even look me in the eye after that. And I appreciate you’re still willing to see me at all,” David said, his voice sounding unsure for the first time.

  Why did it sound like he was blaming himself? It had nothing to do with his advances. It had been all me. I cringed.

  “David, you’re acting like you were the one who did something wrong. You didn’t! It was all me. My fault. Not yours!” I said with feeling.

  “I know you see it that way, Melanie. But I could have left that walk-in a lot sooner. I let it get as far as it did. I knew something was wrong, and you weren’t acting yourself. But I—a part of me wanted it. A part of me wanted to let you try. A part of me wanted to know what it would feel like to have you want me that way. It was…selfish of me. For that, I am truly sorry.” David said, his voice hoarse.

  I couldn’t believe this. He was way overthinking this. It hadn’t been his fault! How could I make him understand?

  “What amazes me about how you behaved, David, isn’t that you stayed in the walk-in, but that you didn’t act like every other twenty-something-year-old man out there and jump on the chance to—well, you know. That is why I feel safe with you, David. That is why I…trust you. You’re incredible. You cared more about respecting me than about your own needs. You’re a good man, David Abramson.” I said, meaning every word. Hearing myself say that I trusted this man, was a true testament of the change God had started in me. I would never have been able to say that to any man before. I hoped he could hear the respect I felt for him. I wish I could show it to him more clearly.

  I did feel for him. More than I had realized or had wanted to admit. But I couldn’t deny it anymore. And my body did respond to him. But it wasn’t the time to explain that to him without boosting this new friendship of ours into hyper-gear and accelerating us way past the place we needed to start off at. Friendship first. Build the friendship into a strong foundation and the rest should happen naturally. Effortlessly.

  Like falling in love.

  My breath caught in my throat at the revelation. I knew in that moment, without a shadow of a doubt, I would fall helplessly and irrevocably in love with David if I ever let him get close enough. It made me happy to see that possibility now. Like looking forward into a waking dream and seeing heaven almost in reach. One day at a time, and maybe, someday, we would get there.

  “You are a good man, David,” I repeated to his silence on the other
end of the line.

  “I’m not,” David said in a small hoarse voice.

  “Yes, you are. I too want to get to you know you better, and I want to spend time with you. I see what a good man you are, and I admire you for that. David, I’m the one who should be thanking you,” I said sincerely.

  “Me, why?” David said, clearly not expecting a thank you of any kind.

  “For recognizing I wasn’t acting like myself and for not taking advantage of me. Somehow, you knew something was wrong. You helped protect me from myself—from it. You helped me drive Jared away from the restaurant. I appreciate that, David. More than you know.”

  “Let’s just forget that we almost got ahead of ourselves and start over,” I offered, wishing he was there, so I could look into his light-brown eyes and see his kind face smiling down at me.

  “That sounds great. We’ll start over,” David said, his voice sounding stronger again.

  “Deal,” I said happily.

  “Take care, Melanie. I’ll see you in class tomorrow,” David said, his voice once again sounding relaxed.

  “See you soon,” I said and hung up.

  I looked around and slowly backed out of my parking space. I put the car in Drive and headed out of the parking lot. My night was looking up. No cleaning up tonight at the restaurant. And now, a chance to get to know David a little better one day at a time. Even if it was restricted to class or work for now, it still felt hopeful. Finally, a real friendship with him could begin. I was smiling to myself nearly the entire way home.

  Crushed Roses

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The unexpected series of deep, bong-like tones from the doorbell echoed throughout the house, pulling me back to reality. Dexter, who was asleep in the crook of my legs, twitched his tail and let out a grumble at the intrusive noise.

  I’d been lying on my bed thinking about David and me since I got home half an hour ago. Okay, so honestly, I’d been thinking about us since I left the university. I’d been reflecting on our conversations the last couple days and found myself deeply pleased that we were starting to become friends and talk about things. It felt really good. And it felt right, even if the way those discussions came about were a little awkward.

  An image of David’s kind, attractive face filled my mind. I recalled the depth of his sorrow and pain I’d seen, like haunting shadows within his eyes, as he spoke briefly about his fellow soldiers and alluded to the horrible things he had seen and done in the war. He had tried to hide it from me. Or perhaps, shield me from it. Maybe he, like me, understood violence, terror, and pain more than the average person? I wish I would have asked him more questions about his time as a soldier, but I had needed to go.

  There will be time enough for questions later, I thought in a vain attempt to snap out of my melancholy.

  It didn’t surprise me that he had been a military pilot. He was intelligent, honorable, courageous, trustworthy, and respectful— everything a soldier should be.

  Or a boyfriend.

  Nope. Don’t go there. Stop it, Melanie! One step at a time. Down, girl!

  I’d also been wondering what it would have been like to actually be going on a date with him. I couldn’t help it. My mind just kept going there. His offer to take me to the monster truck show tonight had left me feeling wistful. It probably would’ve been fun hanging out with him. And I would have loved to see him eat some of my cotton candy. ‘Cause I would have bought some, of course. It would have been interesting to see that big, strong ex-soldier eat a puffy, pink ball of sugar. I smiled at the mental image.

  But no. Too many things were out of control in my life. Or rather, too many people. Each one was unpredictable, dangerous, and had a prison record or carried a badge and a gun.

  Wow, my life is so screwed up.

  The doorbell sang out again. Ding-Dong-Ding-dong!

  Who the heck is pestering me? A feeling of dread washed over me.

  No! Don’t open the door! The thought pounded through my mind and my stomach did a flip, deepening the dread.

  Oh, but maybe it’s David. A slightly panicked feeling of getting caught with my hand in the cookie jar flittered through me, pushing back the dread.

  David, I was just thinking about you. The girlish notion made me smile and I felt my face warm at the thought of David coming to my house and interrupting my day dream like analysis of him.

  I thought I told you I wasn’t ready, Mister.

  Oh, God. Did he come to hang out with me anyway?

  I jumped up out of bed mentally shaking myself. I ran over to my vanity mirror and looked at my wrinkled clothes and frizzy hair.

  Crap! I look like crap! What else is new?

  I quickly ran my brush over my hair and tried to tame it. It resisted me.

  “Grr,” I snarled as I fought it into a slightly appealing, loose bun.

  Ding-Dong-Ding-dong!

  “I’m coming!” I yelled as I raced out my bedroom door, my pinky toe slamming into the thicker than usual doorframe.

  “Ouch! Ouchie!” I shrieked as I skipped along, trying to shake off the stinging in my toe.

  David, you made me rush and now I hurt my baby toe. Ouchie.

  I jogged down the stairs and went to the front door. I peeked out of the peephole. A huge bouquet of red roses was consuming nearly my entire area of sight. I could barely make out the shadow of a tall broad figure lost behind the exquisite flowers.

  He brought me roses? I panicked. How was I ever supposed to keep my head clear, my hormones calm, and stay objective if he was already peppering me with romantic gestures like roses? He was already driving me nuts with his gallantry and “respect the fair maiden” good-old-boy ways.

  I’ll just have to refuse them then, I thought dryly.

  I unlocked and opened the door feeling pouty but determined. “David, you’re so sweet. But I’m sorry, I just can’t accept these.” I said before he could get a word out. I couldn’t see past the bouquet of roses being shoved at me. “Oh!”

  “Who’s David, your boyfriend?” A familiar rough, smoky voice said from behind the flowers.

  I froze, my body paralyzed, my mind stunned into temporary incoherency. Then he laughed—a low, malevolent rumble of sadistic expectation. I knew that laugh. I knew that voice. Dwayne Bishop—my father—had found me.

  I reached for the door to slam it shut with a flash of impulse, my fear having thrust out the temporary paralysis with an instantaneous rush of fight or flight adrenaline surging through my body.

  “No ya don’t,” Dwayne snarled, and he barged into the door with his shoulder, sending it crashing into me. I was flung backwards to land squarely on my back, the wind knocked out of me as I hit hard on the tile entrance. The bouquet burst from the impact, and crushed rose petals flittered through the air and scattered across the floor to lay like a beautiful betrayal.

  “Get out of my house!” I wheezed.

  Dwayne slammed the door behind us and threw the rest of the mangled bouquet away from him with a sneer.

  “Now, that’s no way to greet your father after five years of disobedience and neglect, now is it?” He strode over to where I was gathering myself up off the floor.

  I scurried backward, fumbling for my pocket, for my cell phone. Crap! I had left it upstairs! I had left everything upstairs, including my pepper spray!

  My room—I have to get to my room!

  I took off toward the staircase, sliding in my socks and nearly tripping myself as I leapt for the second step, and skipped another, trying to take them two at a time in my haste.

  I felt the all too familiar grasp of his hands take hold of my ankle, and I cried out, my upper body smacking with a heavy thud onto the steps as my feet pulled out from beneath me. I kicked violently trying to free myself, and my father growled in agitation, yanking me down the steps. I clawed for the railing, the tips of my fingers slipping off. The adrenaline and panic spiked, rushing through my blood, making it nearly impossible to think. The voice of my mind
was screaming at me.

  This can’t be happening to me! Run! Melanie, Run!

  I felt my skin burn across the carpet as he pulled me like a flailing calf back to the entryway. He let go of me and laughed, partially blocking my line of sight to the stairs but still giving himself the advantage to reach the front door before me, should he have to.

  I glanced around, unsure what to do, my eyes seeking a way to escape. Seeing my panic and desperation, Dwayne laughed again, and within the cold triumphant sound of his laughter, were the echo of many voices, laughing along with him, like a hideous choir of sadistic glee.

  “Same ol’ Melanie. You always were stubborn. I’m gonna love breaking you. I have a little something to give back to you, too,” Dwayne said with malice as he touched the left side of his temple and traced a large half-moon scar with his thick index finger.

  I recognized the scar, though I had never seen it for myself before. It was where I had hit him with his old dinged-up baseball bat. I had just turned eighteen, and he’d tried to rape me. At the time, he had been so drunk that his reflexes had been sluggish and his balance impaired. He didn’t have to be drunk to be violent. That night he had been nearly ready to pass out. He was only about two beers shy of hitting his limit.

  I had grabbed the bat off of the wall where he had it hung, over his display of college baseball keepsakes. My mother, sister, and I had all experienced that bat once or twice. It was about time he had a taste of it himself.

  I had snatched up the bat and spun around with all my might, aiming for his head. He had stepped back but was too slow. The tip of the bat had connected along the side of his head, and he was whirled around before he dropped like a swatted fly. He laid face down and hadn’t moved.

  I hadn’t known if he was alive or dead, and in that moment, I hadn’t cared. I had simply dropped the bat and ran out the door, fearing for my life. I ran the five miles to William Becker’s house. Elisabeth had come up to Redding from Sacramento that night to comfort me. The next morning when they had come with me to gather my things, he was gone, only a small pool of blood had been left on the matted stained carpet where he had been laying.