A Gift of Time (The Nine Minutes Trilogy Book 3) (18 page)

For what,
she didn’t know. She’d noticed his jaw tightened when they were in the truck
talking about sex, when she’d reminded him she wanted to wait until she was
married. She thought she imagined it, but now her senses were suddenly on
alert.

She was
reminded of a conversation she’d once had with her mother. Her mother had told
her the story of when she used to babysit for a little boy who’d been abused.
The signs were there and her intuition had been right, but she’d ignored them
because those kinds of things didn’t happen in those kinds of families.

Her mother
had been wrong.

“You know
what, Elliott? I think maybe I would rather go out to dinner. I don’t feel
right hanging in Edith’s vacation condo without her being here.” She tried to
lighten the mood by reminding him of a funny moment they’d shared months
earlier. “You know, ‘unchaperoned.’”

The last
word came out in a squeak. Her lungs suddenly felt heavy and she thought she
might have to fight for breath.

She noticed
the same tightening of his jaw, but it was quickly gone as he plastered on a
smile. A smile she realized wasn’t sincere.

She felt a
trickle of sweat as it made its way down her neck. The room was suddenly very
hot.

“Okay,” he
said with exaggerated enthusiasm. “But not until you finish your iced tea.”

There it was
again. The iced tea. She’d already taken a few sips. Did she feel any
different? Yes, she thought maybe she did. Her body felt relaxed, which was in
sharp contrast to what her mind was feeling.

“I’m not
really thirsty,” was all she could muster.

She started
to feel lightheaded and sat back down.

“What’s
wrong, Mimi? Are you okay?”

His fake
sincerity was so obvious it was making her nauseated.

“Just a
little lightheaded. Probably because I haven’t eaten all day. I’ll be fine as
soon as we get to the restaurant.”

He pulled
her roughly to her feet and caught her around the waist as she swayed. “C’mon.
Why don’t you lie down on Edith’s bed for a few minutes?”

“Take me
home, Elliott,”

“Not until
you rest,” he said sternly as he half walked, half dragged her toward the
bedroom.

“No,
Elliott! I don’t want to lie down. I want to go home.” It sounded slightly
slurred even to her own ears.

“You are not
going to ruin this for me, Mimi. I’ve waited for almost a fucking year for
this. I even insisted on meeting your parents." He glared at her.
"And you’re nothing but a prick-tease. Always looking at me like you want
me to do you and then saying the opposite.” His voice turned hard. “You’re
going to come in the bedroom and I’m going to make love to you, and you’re
going to like it. Got it? You understand?”

He smirked
to himself. Make love to her? Shit. He was going to ball her brains out.

“Ruin what?”
she cried. “I think you put something in the iced tea. You want me to pass
out.”

“I only gave
you something to help you relax. I don’t want you to pass out. I want you to be
awake. I want you to like it, and I promise you will, baby. I promise.” His
voice was calmer now. “I’ll go down on you first. If you just let yourself
relax, you’ll like it, I swear. I’ll make sure you come, and you’ll be begging
me to fuck you, okay? It’ll be good. Now come on!”

     
Just then the
front door of the condo flew open and a guy walked in, slamming the door behind
him.

“Take your
hands off her, Nick.”

“Who the
fuck are you?” Elliott asked, his arms still clutched tightly around Mimi’s
waist.

“I’m the guy
who’s here to break your fucking face.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Mimi

2000,
Fort Lauderdale (After the Execution)

Slade watched as
Mimi sipped the coffee and made a face.

“Drink it,
Mimi. It should help,” he told her in a soothing voice.

He watched
her take a sip of the coffee and slowly swallow it. Then, with a trembling
hand, she placed it in the cup holder, pulled the blanket they’d swiped from
the condo tightly around her shoulders, and started to cry.

“So stupid.
So stupid. So embarrassed,” was all she said as she rocked back and forth.

They were
sitting in an isolated parking spot behind the fast food joint Slade had
brought her to. He’d bought two coffees in the drive-thru and parked behind the
restaurant. He tried to console her.

“It’s okay,
Mimi. You’re okay. I got there in time. Nothing happened. Nothing will happen.”
His voice was quiet.

“If you
hadn’t gotten there when you did, I don’t know how far Elliott would’ve gone
and I, I, I...”

“But I did
get there, Mimi, and nothing happened.”

He then went
on to explain what Christian had told him to say. That he knew Elliott as Nick
Rosman and had heard through some friends what Nick had planned on doing to try
to get the notice of some biker gangs.

“I knew they
were talking about Grizz, Mimi, and that’s how I made the connection to you. I
guess I’m a little shocked that you know about Grizz. I didn’t think you knew
he was your real father.”

She took a
shuddery breath. “I found out by accident. It’s a long story, but I know who he
is. It’s just unbelievable that you knew these guys, too.”

“Yeah, I
hadn’t realized who they were talking about until it was almost too late,” he
lied.

He wouldn’t
tell her his brother, Christian, was the one who’d purposely buddied up to
these idiots. He wanted to save her the embarrassment of thinking someone else
knew what Rosman had planned to do.

“I just
can’t believe they were going to film me having sex with Elliott—err,
Nick.” She shivered and pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.

She looked
up then at Slade and, with the biggest, most expressive eyes he’d ever seen,
and with complete adoration in her voice, said, “You saved me, Slade. You saved
me.”

**********

“What do you mean, you messed
his face up? Why didn’t you put him in the fucking hospital, Slade?”
Christian’s face was red.

“Because I’m
not you,” Slade yelled back.

It had been
a long night and Slade was tired. After quietly dropping Mimi off at her home,
he returned to the apartment he shared with three roommates and had gone to
bed. He’d had trouble falling asleep, though. He hadn’t seen Mimi in years and
had been startled by what he saw. The sweet little brown-haired girl with the
big eyes had turned into a real beauty. He had to remind himself she was only
fifteen. That fucking Rosman should’ve been shot for what he’d planned on doing
to her.

Slade had
known his parents would bail Christian out of jail, and he’d been right. He
just didn’t think it would happen so quickly—or that Chris would show up
at his apartment so early in the morning.

“You knew
what that motherfucker was planning on doing. He shouldn’t have walked out of
that condo, Slade.” Christian leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed.

Slade poured
himself some coffee and sat at the small kitchen table.

“You’re
fucked in the head. You know that? If I had done something that had caused the
police or an ambulance to have to come to that condo, they would’ve tracked
down those three goons, and it would all have been traced back to Mimi and me.
You want the police knocking on her door waking up her parents to find out why
the guy she was dating was put in the hospital by one of Anthony Bear’s kids?
It’s a good thing you gave that cop some lip, Christian. If he hadn’t hauled
your ass to jail, you’d have brought down a load of shit on everybody. You and
your fucking temper!”

Slade looked
up at his brother then and recognized an expression that had always made him
uncomfortable.

“Don’t even
think about it, Chris.” He held up a warning hand. “Let it go. Besides, if word
gets around to certain people of what he even attempted to do, he’s dead. Grizz
still has loyal followers. Even from the grave that guy has clout, and Rosman
must be an imbecile to think he would be impressing anybody with his stunt.
Yeah, maybe some rival gangs from back in the day would’ve been amused, but
with Grizz dead and gone, none of his old enemies really give a shit.”

Slade took a
sip of coffee and let out a long breath. He stared at his brother who was still
standing there, arms crossed and a furious expression on his face. After a few
minutes, Slade’s expression softened.

“I don’t get
this thing with you and Mimi. Why are you so riled up over this? I thought you
crushed on her when we were kids, but we haven’t seen them in years. You still
like her that much?”

Christian
didn’t say anything. He walked to the refrigerator and took out a beer. He
turned around and looked at Slade as he took a sip, ignoring the look of
disapproval from his older brother.

“How did you
handle her parents?”

“I didn’t
have to,” Slade said tiredly. “We came up with a story for her to tell her mom
and dad, and I dropped her a few houses down from her own.” He caught his
brother’s look. “I made sure she got in her house before I drove off, okay? I
didn’t want my car to be seen in front of their house. Her parents don’t need
to be asking why I was bringing her home. They’ll think Nick dropped her off.”

Christian
just nodded.

Slade felt
compelled to add, “If you think you like her, why don’t you do something about
it? Maybe you could run into her somewhere or even go by her house. Say you
were in the neighborhood and wanted to say hi. You know Aunt Ginny would
welcome you with open arms.”

“I saw her
father at Axel’s place. He looked at me like I was a piece of trash. Couldn’t
tell me quick enough how she was in love with some guy. He doesn’t want me
around. He thinks she can do better than me. He’s probably right.”

“That’s
bullshit. If it weren’t for you, Mimi would’ve been raped tonight. And if the
wrong people found out about it, Rosman would’ve died for it. Still might. You
took the initiative to find out what was going on. You may be a hothead, bro,
but you are one bad motherfucker who’d make sure nobody’d ever go near their
daughter. Quit selling yourself short, Christian. You want a chance with Mimi?
A real chance? Start working on your grades and get rid of some of your
friends. I don’t know if it’ll help you get a foot in the door with the
Dillons, but at least you’d make Mom and Dad a lot happier.”

Christian
guzzled the last of his beer and set the bottle on the counter. Ignoring his
brother’s advice, he headed for the door, calling out over his shoulder as he
went.

“I owe you
one, Slade.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ginny

2001,
Fort Lauderdale

The weeks after
our Thanksgiving cruise flew by in a frenzy
of activity. Between Christmas, the start of a new year, and our busy family
schedule, it seemed every day on the calendar had something penciled in. There
were also some things during that time that weren’t on the calendar. One that
stuck out was that Mimi and Elliott had ended their relationship.

I’d waited
up that night for her first date with him after we returned from our cruise.
She quietly let herself in the front door and was heading up the stairs when I
called her back down. When I saw she’d been crying, I knew something was wrong.

She let me
hold her as she sobbed for almost five minutes that finally ended in a fit of
hiccups. I made some tea while she washed her face. We sat in the den, and she
told me how Elliott had taken her to a nice restaurant for dinner and they’d
run into one of his ex-girlfriends, who’d made a scene.

“It was just
so humiliating, Mom. She was older than him and obviously still loved him. She
asked if he’d resorted to picking up little girls from the playground at
elementary schools.”

I listened
as Mimi told me how Elliott’s ex-girlfriend must have been drinking. She was
making such a scene that they were all asked to leave by the restaurant
manager.

“I just saw
him in a different light, I guess. He wasn’t defending himself to her. I felt
like he was embarrassed by me. I don’t think that I’ll ever look at him the
same way.” She looked down at her mug as tears rolled down her cheeks, “I think
he cares more about what others think than he does about me.”

“So did you
break up?” I was conflicted. Part of me was secretly hoping I wouldn’t have to
worry about my daughter dating an eighteen-year-old, yet also feeling a real
ache in my heart for her pain. It had been a long time ago, but even I
remembered the sting of Matthew Rockman telling me he’d no longer need me to
tutor him.

“I guess it
was mutual,” she said. “Mom?”

“Yes, Mimi?”

“Would it be
okay if we don’t talk about it anymore? I mean, Elliott and I already agreed to
take each other’s numbers out of our phones. We’ve already decided it’s not
going to work. He said something about maybe trying to see me again when I’m
older, but let’s face it. He was just being nice. That’s not going to happen
and I’m pretty sure I don’t want it to.”

She blew out
a breath and looked at me pleadingly.

I watched
Mimi closely for weeks after that conversation, and even though I could tell
she was hurting, she put on a brave face and dove back into her regular
activities. School, work, and friends fell back into their usual place, and she
even asked to go with me the next time I met Christy Bear for lunch. I was
relieved to see she was resilient and had resolved to move on. And I knew Tommy
certainly breathed a sigh of relief when I told him about the breakup.

The
discussions with Mimi about Grizz had slowly faded away. Her guilt about Leslie
had been absolved, and her curiosity about Grizz had waned. Life was getting
back to normal. The kids had been back in school for weeks, and we were almost
nearing the end of January. Since I had given up my bookkeeping clients, I had
more time on my hands than usual.

Lately, I’d
had Sister Mary Katherine on my mind. I’d recently dreamed about the nun who
I’d been so close to when I was a child. The same nun who’d pushed authorities
to find me. Was my subconscious speaking to me in dreams that maybe I had some
unfinished business with her?

“How do you
even know where to find her, Ginny?” Tommy asked me early one morning in our
bedroom. He’d been sitting on our bed putting on his shoes for work.

“I asked
about her when we renewed our wedding vows. I should’ve tried to find her years
ago, Tommy. I feel like she’s one of those unresolved things in my life.”

“So, she’s
still alive?”

“Yes, she’s
in a nursing home for retired nuns in Illinois. I’d like to visit her. To tell
her I’m alive. I don’t even know if she’ll remember me, Tommy, but she’s been
on my mind since last summer, and I’ve been putting it off. Well, with
everything that’s happened since then, you can’t blame me for putting it off.
But still—I want to see her before it’s too late. Maybe that’s why I
dreamed about her. She has to be ancient by now, wouldn’t you think?”

“I don’t
know, Gin. I didn’t know her, so I don’t know how old she’d be by now. If it’s
something you feel strongly about, then definitely do it.”

“Do you want
to go with me? I thought I’d take a Friday afternoon flight. Stay two nights
and come home on a Sunday.”

“I don’t
think so. Now that Alec is back from his sabbatical in the mountains, we’re
taking on more clients, and I’ll be working some weekends. You go, and I can
stay home with the kids. Then we won’t have to arrange for them to stay with
friends or ask Carter to come here.”

“I don’t
know if I want to go alone. Without you.”

“I think it
would be good for you, Gin.” He stood and walked toward me, gently tilting my
chin up to him. “It sounds like you should have time alone with her. If you
don’t want to go alone, I’ll go with you. But I’m just thinking this is
something you might like to do by yourself.”

**********

The next week, I found myself
standing in the cozy family room at the Sisters of Mercy Retirement Home in
Illinois. It was an old convent that had been condemned as uninhabitable and
was slated for demolition years ago when it had caught the eye of a wealthy
donor who’d had it restored. I stood next to a roaring brick fireplace and
stared at the ceiling and surrounding walls, captivated by the architecture.

A young
novitiate had been sent to collect Sister Mary Katherine and bring her to me. I
assumed that meant she was most likely in a wheelchair. I secretly wondered if
maybe this had been a mistake. She probably wouldn’t even remember me. It was
now 2001. I’d been abducted in 1975. That was more than twenty-five years ago.
What was I thinking?

“It smells like
roses, but not a flower or air freshener in sight,” a young woman had commented
to me. We made small talk as we waited. She was waiting for her aunt, another
retired nun. I’d started to tell her I agreed when I heard a voice I recognized
instantly.

“Guinevere
Love Lemon. It’s about time you came to see me!”

Sister Mary
Katherine bounded toward me with an energy that belied her age. Then, clasping
my arm tightly, she began to walk me through the warm and inviting halls of the
beautiful building. It didn’t feel like a retirement home. It reminded me of an
elegant mansion with a lot of bedrooms. She’d explained on the way to her room
that she was now almost ninety, and even though she was officially retired, she
didn’t have a tired bone in her body.

In her room,
she listened without interrupting as I told her everything that had transpired
since that fateful day in May 1975. Her blue eyes were bright, and I expected
to see some curiosity in them, but it wasn’t there.

“I knew you
were okay,” she told me confidently.

“How?”

She held her
hand over her heart. “Can’t tell you how. I just knew. After a while, I felt
peace about it, and from what you’ve told me, sounds like I should’ve been
worrying about you, but I wasn’t. Something deep inside told me you were fine.
I prayed that God would tell me one day it was true. And today is that day.
Praise the good Lord, Guinevere.”

We hugged,
and then she looked at the watch on her bony wrist.

“Do you want
to come with me on my rounds?”

“Your
rounds?”

“I need to
fetch Sister Agnes. She’s blind and handicapped. I need to get her back to her
room and settled in. Would you like to come with me?”

“I would
love to, Sister Mary Katherine.”

I stood in
Sister Agnes’s room and watched as Sister Mary Katherine lovingly readied the blind
nun for her afternoon nap. For a woman nearing ninety, she moved with the
agility of a cat. I smiled to myself as I took in the beautiful and tasteful
furniture and the window that looked out on a snowy scene that could have come
right out of a Thomas Kincaid painting.

Then I
noticed something I found odd. Almost every available space of furniture was
covered in framed pictures. I walked to one low dresser and bent over to get a
better look. Sister Agnes was blind. Why would she have so many pictures in her
room? She couldn’t see them.

As if
reading my thoughts, Sister Mary Katherine said, “They’re her unanswered
prayers.”

I turned to
look at the holy sister. “Unanswered prayers?”

“When she
was younger, Bevin was a photographer,” Sister Mary Katherine told me. “Bevin
was her name before she became a nun.”

I looked
back at the pictures and noticed they were all black and whites. I picked one
up.

“Sister
Agnes, this one is of a man changing a car tire. He’s smiling at you, like he
stopped what he was doing so you could snap his picture.”

“New
Orleans, 1950. I was maybe only twenty-five or twenty-six then and had just
discovered my love of photography,” said the nun from the bed. Sister Agnes had
thinning white hair and a heavily lined face. Her unseeing dark eyes exuded
warmth and compassion. “That was Mr. Payroux. He later lost his wife and two
children in a house fire. That picture was taken in happier times. If you look
closely, you can see his wife sitting on their porch in the background. I went
back to visit years after I took that picture and was told by the neighbors
that, after his family’s deaths, he’d spiraled into a dark world of depression
and drinking. One day, he up and disappeared. Nobody knew what had happened to
him.”

“This was so
many years ago, Sister. He must have died by now. Is this still an unanswered
prayer of yours?”

“I pray for
every person in every one of those pictures that the Lord will see fit to put
on my heart what became of them. Sometimes He answers me in a dream. Sometimes,
someone like Sister Mary Katherine will help me do some investigating, get me
my answers. I have a whole drawer full of answered prayers over there.”

I watched as
her unseeing eyes followed the direction of where she was now pointing. My eyes
followed, too, and saw a tall dresser that stood in the corner.

“Oh, yes, we
have a whole drawer full of answered prayers,” Sister Mary Katherine told me
proudly.

I smiled and
went back to perusing the unanswered prayer frames. One caught my eye. There
was something beautiful yet sad about it. Maybe it was the dog. It was a
Rottweiler and brought me immediately back to memories of Lucifer and Damien. I
picked it up and studied it closer.

“Which one
are you looking at?” Sister Agnes asked.

“It’s a
little girl and her dog. They’re standing in tall grass, and she’s smiling, but
it’s not reaching her eyes.”

“Florida. A
town smaller than a speck called Macon’s Grove. 1956. That would be Ruthie and
Razor.”