by Donna Fasano
She felt the need for support and wrapped her arms tight about herself. Tori was seeing it in her head, as if the whole awful ordeal were happening all over again. Hearing her sister’s tears, her parents’ fear. Feeling her own inability to help Susan.
“The thing that amazed me,” she said, “was that Susan went back to him. She forgave that bastard and went home to Burlington. To Jim.” Tori lifted her chin, found Chay’s dark gaze, focused on it. “Many times.”
A needle of pain made her realize she was pinching her bottom lip between her teeth. She released it, and immediately her chin began to tremble.
“He killed her, Chay.” Her voice was as ragged as shredded paper. “Jim murdered Susan. He pushed her and she struck her head. And there was nothing we could do to keep that tragedy from happening.”
Chay’s coal-black eyes shone with deep emotion. To think that he felt her sorrow, that he commiserated with her, was very consoling to her. Then she was enveloped in his strong arms, his hands sliding along her back.
“Oh, Tori,” he crooned. “My Tori. May the Great Spirit above comfort you.”
She reveled in the blessing, resting her cheek against his corded shoulder. Closing her eyes, she drank in the scent of him. Absorbed his heat. Basked in the respite he offered.
“It must have been horrible for you,” he said, his breath soft against her ear. “For your parents, too.”
She nodded, the back of her head grazing his chin. Tori was content to recount the rest of her story from this position, curled against the safety of his shoulder, his arms tight about her.
“Dad and Mom just couldn’t take living here anymore,” she told him. “So they retired to Florida and left me to run Freedom Trail. They’re doing well, doing what they can to heal.” A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. “But they’ll never forget. They can’t. None of us will ever forget.”
“Honey…” Chay pulled her back, urged her to lift her head. His fingers caressed her jaw as he looked deep into her eyes. “You’re not meant to forget something like that. It would be impossible.”
In a moment of weakness Tori found herself admitting, “Th-there are times that I wish I could forget. I wish I could take that memory and rip it out of my brain. It hurts so bad to know that my sister was in pain, that she was in grave danger, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it.”
There was understanding in his silence, in the softness of the depths of his eyes. Time seemed to slow. Tori studied his handsome face and realized she was experiencing a small bit of tranquility, something that had become a rarity in her life.
“The night we first met,” she told him, her voice stronger now, “was the anniversary of Susan’s death. I was feeling desperately sad.” She smiled. “But… you helped me that night, Chay. Helped me to get through it. And for that I want to thank you.”
“I had wondered,” he whispered. “Why you’d been crying that night. But I didn’t want to intrude.” His mouth pulled into a small smile. “If I helped you, then I’m pleased.” After a moment he asked, “What happened to him? Your sister’s husband, I mean.”
“Jim’s in prison. He’ll be locked away for the rest of his life. Not every abuser-turned-murderer gets that long a sentence, especially if their crime isn’t seen as premeditated. But we were lucky. We got full justice for Susan.”
Chay slid the pad of his fingers into the hollow of her cheek, stroked the sensitive underside of her jaw with his thumb. Tori got the impression that he knew they were going to break apart soon, and he was savoring every moment of being near her. Her heart warmed.
Smoothing her splayed palms down his chest, she used them as leverage to ease herself away from him. “I really do need to go now. But thank you for listening. I… well, I wanted you to understand.”
“Understand?”
His bewilderment was evident in the way his arched brows drew together.
She bobbed her head in two quick jerks. “Me.”
That was all she could afford to say at the moment.
Tomorrow. She sent out the silent, whispery promise. Tomorrow she would be free to reveal all.
His expression brightened with the emergence of what he must have thought was an answer to his own question.
“You’re explaining why you’re still single,” he said.
He took a backward step, his head nodding with what looked to be solemn satisfaction. He almost seemed proud to have figured her out.
“Why you’re unattached.”
His conclusion was only partly correct. The whole of the matter was that she’d felt guilty for not telling him about her work. She’d meant to offer him a little… something. Something that would help him to understand her. Something that would help him to appreciate the rest of her story when she revealed it tomorrow morning.
The idea obviously disturbed him. “Tori, you’re not allowing what happened to your sister to—”
His lips pressed together, and she knew he was having difficulty finding the words he wanted to say. He looked off down the street, then swung his gaze back to her face.
“If you cut yourself off from living,” he said gently, “you’re condemning yourself to the same kind of life sentence as Susan’s murderer. A life of isolation and lonliness. He deserves that. You don’t.”
Scalding tears squeezed painfully from Tori’s eyes as shock froze every muscle in her body. Never had she expected Chay to make such a comparison.
Before this moment, Tori had always believed she shied away from relationships, away from men, because her work with abused women necessitated a strict secrecy. A complete and utter confidentiality. And it was her commitment to those things that allowed the women she aided to trust her. Women just like Brenda.
But Chay had boiled it down into something awful, likening her solitary lifestyle to being imprisoned. Locked away. Like Jim.
She pushed herself away from her car, defensiveness striking a spark of hot ire in her.
“I’m not stupid,” she said. “I don’t believe that every man I meet is capable of the kind of violence Susan experienced with Jim.”
Her sudden ire had him backing away. “Hold on. I wasn’t suggesting that there’s anything wrong with your intelligence, Tori.”
She yanked open the door of her car.
“Wait.” Chay looked stunned as he spoke—she saw his stark reflection in the window. “I never said—”
She whirled to face him. “I haven’t always lived like a nun, you know,” she blurted, the silly justification making her want to cringe. “I’ve dated. Plenty of times, buster. But some things are more important than… than… men.”
~oOo~
Why on earth had she become so antagonistic? Had she really snipped that she hadn’t lived like a nun? Had she actually called him buster?
She had. A groan broke the silence in the car as she turned into her driveway.
Well, he’d stunned her. Completely.
Tori had always thought of her isolated life as something that was honorable. She kept herself secluded because secrecy was a big part of her work with the abused. These women were forced to go into hiding… forced to go underground for safety reasons.
In her mind, her lifestyle was necessary. Admirable, even.
However, when Chay had accused her of imprisoning herself, just as her murdering brother-in-law was imprisoned, Tori had felt as if he’d slapped her in the face.
She cut the engine, but remained seated in the car. Her fingers smoothed along the curve of the steering wheel, resting at the base of the cool, knobby circle.
Could Chay be right? Was it possible that she’d sentenced herself to a life of loneliness? That her sister’s death had caused her to open her compassion to hurting women, but close her heart to love?
Unwittingly she pressed her fingertips to her mouth, the memory of Chay’s kiss strong and concentrated enough to cause her heart to quicken, even though she was sitting all alone in the darkness.
Tori seemed t
o remember that each time she and Chay would get close, each time the attraction between them tugged and pulled at her like some invisible rope, she’d make an excuse about why she couldn’t surrender to the delicious feelings that throbbed through her body when he looked at her. When he touched her.
Reaching for her purse on the seat beside her, she shoved open the door and got out of the car. She’d spent five years dedicating herself to this cause. Was she going to let one man make her question what she was doing, or how and why she was doing it?
The uneven ground was difficult to cross in her high heels. Clumps of grass snagged her steps.
She’d been terribly careful when she’d talked with Chay at the party. At one point he’d claimed he’d found the reason behind his nightmare, but she’d had to disagree with him. Again.
Just as Grayson had expressed, she’d walked the fine line. What she’d wanted to do was tell Chay everything she knew. Make him see, once and for all, that his grandfather wasn’t the enemy Chay thought, but a loving advocate who was willing to shoulder the blame for the past if that would help Chay to preserve good memories of his father. Tori felt it wasn’t her place to force something on him for which he was unprepared.
She slipped the key into the lock and pushed open the front door.
“Brenda?” she called. It would be time to go soon. She had to put aside these personal matters and focus on the here and now.
For the next couple of hours, getting Brenda and her son out of town safely would be her only goal, her only thought.
Brenda came down the stairs. Tori marveled at the determination she witnessed on the woman’s face. Anxiety was there, too, but resolve firmed her jaw. It hadn’t been very long ago that Brenda’s moral fiber had been weak as a wet paper sack. Tori had doubted the woman’s ability to make it on her own.
But once again Tori realized the elderly shaman had made a declaration that had been dead-on when he’d said that Scotty would be the reason Brenda survived. It was amazing how maternal instincts took over when a woman had children to protect.
“Are you and Scotty packed? It’s nearly time to go.”
The woman nodded. “Scotty’s watching TV upstairs. I perked us a pot of coffee. It’s waiting in the kitchen. I thought we could sit and have a cup before we go.” Shyly she said, “I’ve got some things I want to say to you, Tori.”
Over cups of steaming coffee Brenda expressed her heartfelt appreciation.
“I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t been there for me and Scotty,” she told Tori. “You took us in. Gave us a place to stay for free. Fed us. You bought us clothes. Even suitcases.” Tears glistened in the woman’s eyes as she said, “And you talked to me. Made me see that there are people who care about me. People who want to see me happy.” Her voice hitched as she added, “People who want to see me free.”
Her inhalation was shaky, but she continued. “I’ve never met anyone as giving as you, Tori. Never.” Setting her cup on the table, Tori leaned toward Brenda, reaching out to her with the intent of graciously accepting the woman’s thanks. But a shadow fell across the kitchen floor.
Although Brenda attempted to stifle her reaction, her high-pitched squeal made Tori flinch, the hair on her scalp rising with the adrenaline that flooded her system. Porcelain shattered as coffee sloshed across the oak floorboards.
Tori’s mind raced with a plan to save Brenda, Scotty, and herself from an enraged Tommie Boy. She scrambled to put herself between Brenda and the doorway, her gaze rising to see Chay’s astounded face staring back at her.
“What’s going on?” he asked, his brow marred with a sharp frowning crease as he took in every aspect: the unmitigated panic that hung in the air, the yellowish bruises on Brenda’s battered face, the broken coffee cup, Tori’s fumbling but clearly protective maneuvering.
Time itself seemed to shift into low gear. Tori felt her chest heave as she gulped in air. Relief knowing they weren’t in any actual danger made her weak in the knees, but anger ignited in her like a flash fire in dry forest.
“What are you doing, Chay?” she demanded. “You can’t just barge in here—”
“I knocked. And the door was open.”
Heavens, how stupid could she be? Leaving the door open for anyone to just waltz right into her home?
Chay held up her sweater. “You left this at Dakota and Lyssa’s.” He set it on the counter, then turned his dark gaze on her again.
“I didn’t hear your truck pull up.” The accusation in her tone was unmistakable. What was wrong with her? Why was she attacking him?
“I jogged over from the cabin,” he told her. “It’s a clear night.” His gaze darted to Brenda and then back to Tori. “So… you want to tell me what’s going on?”
Realizing that his motives were innocent, that he’d arrived only to bring back her sweater should have calmed the turmoil in her mind. But it didn’t. The fury that licked at her like scorching flames was out of control, fueled by surplus adrenaline and leftover fear. All she knew was that the inferno blazed, turning rational thought to ashes.
“No,” she said, unable to contain the volume of her voice. “I’m not going to tell you anything, Chay. This is none of your business.”
Silence throbbed in the air like a living, breathing thing.
Surprisingly, it was Brenda who broke it “Tori’s helping me,” she said, her voice soft but purposeful. “My husband… h-he ain’t no good. I’m catching a bus tonight. Tori paid for my ticket.”
Chay’s midnight eyes never left Tori’s face, the expression reflected in them unreadable. A moment passed. Then another. She felt as if her larynx had become paralyzed. Without another word he turned on his heel and disappeared from sight.
The sound of the front door closing made Tori start.
“Oh, Tori,” Brenda said. “He’s angry. You need to go after him. Explain things to him. Make him understand.” She pointed toward the window. “There he goes. He’s heading toward the woods.”
Irritation had Tori snapping, “You don’t go running after a man just because he’s angry, Brenda. All that does is get you into deeper trouble. I’ve been lecturing on that from the first day you came here.”
Brenda’s spine straightened with resentfulness. “With my husband, maybe,” she said. “But he’s not like Tommie Boy. You know it, and so do I. All he’s done is come around trying to help you out, Tori. And you kept shooin’ him away all on account o’me.”
The haze in her head began to clear. Tori swallowed. “I was going to tell him everything once you were safely on your way. Tomorrow.”
Tori’s gaze turned to the window and she watched Chay stalking across the lawn.
“Well, go change into your sneakers,” Brenda urged. “That man deserves an explanation.”
Unbeknownst to the women below in the kitchen, Chay’s departure was being watched by someone else, too. A frightened little boy who was staring out an upstairs window.
Chapter Nine
Pushing his way into Tori’s home, into Tori’s personal business, had been a terrible mistake. Chay recognized that now. He shoved aside the pine bough that dipped into the path through the woods as he made his way back to the cabin. He should have left well enough alone. Even though he’d sensed Tori had been hiding something, he knew her to be an honest, upright person. He should have realized that whatever her secret was, it couldn’t be anything nefarious. But experiencing the brunt of her covert behavior and not knowing what it was all about had nearly driven him crazy.
No. Not crazy. It had driven him to do something he wouldn’t normally have done. Hiding her sweater like that had been deceitful. Hell, he’d practically stolen it just so he’d have a reason to go snooping around. He frowned, realizing no good was ever gained by underhanded actions. He should be filled with guilt and remorse. He’d frightened Tori and that woman who was staying with her half to death when he’d walked in on the two of them.
It would never have entered his head t
hat Tori might be involved in aiding the abused. However, the scenario made perfect sense after what she’d watched her sister go through, after experiencing an agonizing helplessness. Imagining the grief Tori must have suffered after Susan’s murder was next to impossible for Chay.
Seeing that battered woman standing in the kitchen of Freedom Trail had been the final piece to the puzzle… the essential element that had enabled him to put together the picture that was Tori Landing.
He sighed as he entered a spot where the trail widened, the glassy surface of Misty Lake becoming visible through the thinning scrub. Yes, he should be feeling terribly guilty about having encroached on Tori’s private affairs.
So why was he experiencing the sensation of having been stung? Chay was hurt by Tori’s secretiveness and by the harsh words she’d hurled at him a few moments ago.
Instinct as ancient as time itself had him going completely still, head angled, every sense on full alert. Faint footsteps fell on the loamy ground not too far behind him. The swoosh of fabric against the snagging limbs of a bush. Someone followed him.
The glow of moonlight on golden hair told him it was Tori. Her steps slowed.
“Chay?”
The uncertainty in her tone tore at his heart. She hadn’t yet seen him on the path.
“I’m here,” he called.
She followed the sound of his voice to the lake’s shore. The distress she felt was expressed on her delicate features, in her rounded shoulders, in the way her hands clenched into fists, then relaxed only to tighten up once again. About three feet from him, she stopped.
“All I can offer you is an apology.” Her soft tone held a strong petitioning quality. “I wanted to tell you, Chay. I wanted to tell you everything. But I promised Brenda that I wouldn’t. She was so scared, you see.”
The words gushed from her.
“Her husband is a violent man. And when she first arrived, she trusted no one. Not even me. Her husband is hunting for her. He had flyers posted in Mountview. He’s a dangerous man, Chay. You saw her face. I had to agree to Brenda’s terms. Assuring her that she could trust me was all-important. I had to create a bond between us. Otherwise, her determination to change her situation might have faltered. She might have gone back to him.” Her voice fell to a rusty whisper as she added. “Too many of them do.”