Charming for Mother's Day (A Calendar Girls Novella) (15 page)

             
Looking up at him again, I gave him a shaky smile. “Bikinis don’t have pockets, you know. Eight miles on the highway. In my bathing suit and flip-flops with nothing but my towel to protect me from wolf whistles and the honks of oncoming traffic. By the time I got home, it was dark, my feet and ankles were cut from the rocks the traffic kicked up at me, I was sunburned and dehydrated. I crawled into bed and cried myself to sleep. The next day, Rob came over, took one look at me and knew. He told me he’d warned me this would happen, that I’d been crazy to even dream that someone like you could ever be interested in someone like me. Then he said that no one would ever love me the way he did. That we belonged together. I would never do better than him. I believed him. He was my best friend. We’d known each other since elementary school, gone to prom together. Dating seemed the natural next step.”

             
My chest tightened the closer my tale came to that one event. Breathing became a massive effort. The end loomed like a giant boulder, rolling down a steep cliff with me chained to the ground in its path.

             
“A few weeks after my twenty-first birthday, I discovered I was pregnant. I later found out that Rob had sabotaged his condoms.”

             
Colin’s jaw went slack. “You’re kidding.”

             
“Nope. Pretty diabolical, huh?” I offered a grim smile. “But buckle up. You haven’t heard nothing yet. At the time, I didn’t think twice about it. I was never the same person after that last day with you. I went through the motions of life, never really caring about anything or anyone—not even myself. I was dead inside. Until that first flutter in my belly. And suddenly I had a reason to live, a reason to love again.”

             
“Ariana.”

             
I nodded. “Ariana. Rob and I got married, and he convinced me to quit school and stop working so I’d be ready to stay home with our baby. He took a job with a friend’s dad, doing construction work. And that’s when the abuse started.” Colin’s eyes flared with anger, and I thrust up my hand. “Not physical, all verbal. He would tell me I was lazy. Fat. Stupid. Worthless. He began drinking heavily, and the drunker he got, the uglier the insults became.”

             
He pointed a finger at my face. “That’s why you only drink water.”

             
Clever boy. He’d made the connection. “And coffee.” I shrugged. “You were right yesterday when you told Maxie I was always a lightweight in the alcohol department, but once I lived with Rob and saw what all that booze did to him, I swore I’d never fall into that trap. Eventually, Rob’s hangovers kept him from getting up in the morning and he lost his job. Bills piled up, we were facing eviction, and he just kept getting drunk—as if the answer was in the bottom of a vodka bottle. Things got so desperate, I came up with a bizarre solution. I figured out that if I managed to get into college again, we could live in student housing and, with loans and scholarships, we’d have a little financial breathing room. Rob could take care of Ari, and I’d attend school during the day. Then he would work in his father’s restaurant at night.”

             
“You weren’t worried about leaving her alone with him?”

             
“I didn’t have a lot of choices. And like I said, his abuse at that stage was all verbal and all directed at me. I thought we could make it work. Rob, of course, was all for it—until he discovered that taking care of our little girl was a full time job of its own. Once he realized he had to get up with her, feed her, dress her, take her to the park and anywhere he went, the charm of being a stay-at-home dad evaporated. He wanted me to quit school, but if I did, we’d lose the housing. I not only had to keep going to class, I had to maintain certain grades to earn my scholarships. The fighting between us got worse.”

             
“That’s when he started hitting you?”

             
I shook my head. “Rob only became physical with me once.”

             
“Yeah, well that must have been a helluva fight.”

             
“It was,” I admitted. “Ari was about twenty-two months old by then. She and I used to play this game. We’d bend our heads toward each other until our foreheads touched, and she’d boop my nose.” I flicked two fingers at my nose to demonstrate. “
Boop
.” The demonstration wasn’t necessary, and he knew it.

             
“I used to do that to you.” His words were a hush, laced with shock and, maybe, nostalgia.

             
Or maybe my emotions misread him. I’d made such an error in judgment before.

             
“Yeah. It never occurred to me where I’d learned it. I mean, like I said, after that day on the beach with you, I thought I’d stopped caring. But that one little quirk—something you’d do to make me laugh—I shared that with Ari. That night, Rob noticed. And remembered where he’d first seen it. He went ballistic. Started screaming that he knew Ariana was actually your child and I’d only married him because you wouldn’t, even though you knew I was pregnant.”

             
“But that doesn’t make sense. You got pregnant a full year after the last time I saw you.”

             
I nodded. We’d reached the point of impact, and I had to spew the words out fast to keep them from inflicting any more pain. “If he had been sober at the time, he would have realized that, too. But this night...? He went crazy. He punched me in the stomach, and I went down on the floor. He kicked me in the side and just kept kicking and kicking. The same spot over and over. Ari started crying. She ran to my side and I knew, in his frenzied drunken state, Rob could have killed her without a thought. I grabbed her, brought her down to the floor and rolled on top of her to keep her safe. Let me tell you, that really made him angry. He snapped. We’d just finished dinner, and he grabbed his knife from the table and plunged it into my shoulder, thinking he’d get me to roll over so he could get to Ari. When I didn’t expose Ari to his rage, he stabbed me again. And again. Not in any vital spots: he wanted me to live and suffer. I don’t remember a lot more about what happened. I lost consciousness. It was sheer chance I’d asked Sidney to drop by that night to watch a movie with us. When he showed up, I was lying on the floor, Ari underneath me, both of us in a pool of my blood. Rob had taken off.” I pulled my t-shirt up on my left side exposing my skin from armpit to waist. The bruises from the bus accident had faded, but the dozens of white lines crisscrossing my ribcage created a patchwork pattern of frenzy I would display for the rest of my life.

             
“Jee-zus.”

             
Point made, I straightened out my clothing. “I woke up in the hospital two days later. Rob had been arrested, and Sidney had told the police I would be pressing charges. I moved back home with my mother. Once I got the green light to work again, Sidney hired me for the G & O. Rob was sentenced to three to five years in jail for assault, served eighteen months, and was released. I was terrified he’d come back and finish the job so I filed a restraining order. I got lucky, I guess. He never came near us again, as far as I know. He just disappeared. For years, I lived in a constant state of fear for the day he’d catch me unawares and finish the job he’d started that night. Until the cops showed up at my mother’s house to tell me he’d died in a drunk driving accident. God help me, I literally dropped to my knees and cried with relief that night.”

             
Needing distance, I got up and headed for the fridge, pulled out two bottles of water, and returned to the table, placing one in front of him.

             
He grabbed my hand and looked up at me, eyes swimming with unshed pity. “Christ, Lucie, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

             
I uncapped the second bottle and took two healthy gulps before I continued, “I’m not looking for sympathy. I told you this story for a reason, Colin. You can’t go through something like that and stay the same person. So when I tell you that I don’t want you driving me to school or work, it’s not a crazy whim. It’s because I need to keep my freedom. The first thing Rob did after our marriage was to cut me off from the outside world. I wasn’t allowed to speak to my mom because she’d tried to talk me out of getting married and he saw that as disloyalty. I had to quit school and work to focus on our home and marriage. He drove me everywhere because he worried about other drivers not being careful enough with his precious wife and child. By pretending he was concerned about my welfare, he made me totally dependent on him. So when things got ugly, I had no one to turn to.”

             
My legs shook so hard, my knees would have fresh bruises by the end of the day. I sank into my chair again. “I will never allow that to happen again. It has nothing to do with you or anyone else. What I survived has colored my perceptions and my reactions to things other people consider normal or harmless. If you get too close too fast, I flinch. I hate being examined by doctors because they start asking questions about the scars. The day you took me to the hospital? The ER doctor wouldn’t release me until she was certain you weren’t the man who beat me.” I splayed my hands. “I’m a work in progress. Every day, I put on my happy face and go through the motions. I do it for one reason: my daughter. Ariana is the only person who matters to me. I love my mom, I love Sidney, and I probably will always love you, but not enough to make the effort. I can’t risk any more pain. Only Ariana gets that piece of me that I’ve kept untouched—that one sliver of my heart that is pure love.”

             
He said nothing at first, sat still as granite—hard and immobile. I didn’t blame him. I’d just given him a helluva lot to absorb. A story like mine took years of deliberation. I should know.
I
still had trouble believing it. So I let him stew.

             
Finally, he took a deep breath that made his whole body shudder and got to his feet. “I would very much like to hold you right now. Would that be all right?” He opened his arms and waited.

             
I didn’t move, didn’t speak. Neither did he. The refrigerator hummed. No other sound broke the heavy stillness. My breath whooshed through my ears on each inhale. A fine film of sweat broke out on my nape. My heartbeat checked off seconds of time.
Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump
.

             
Still, he stood, arms held open, waiting for me to take that first step. His face remained unlined, unworried—a portrait of patience.

             
My hands gripped the seat of my chair, preparing to push me up and out, toward the security he offered. More cracks splintered the sarcophagus I’d built around myself. At last, I found the words I needed to say.

             
“I can’t.”

Chapter 11

Lucinda

             
Colin dropped his arms to his sides, but gave no other reaction to my refusal. “That’s okay. I’d still like to take you to school, though. No strings or anything. And just for today. Only because I can’t let you walk out of here after listening to all that. It’s crazy, I know, but I need to see you, to make sure you’re here. You’re real. I didn’t just dream all this. Tomorrow, you want to take the bus, you take the bus. You want a ride, call me, and I’ll be here in minutes. Deal?”

             
Funny how perspectives get skewed. After hearing my story, he wanted to spend more time with me. After telling him my story, I wanted to crawl into a hole and be alone for a decade or two. And yes, I knew I hadn’t given him an answer yet. But at this point, I had no choice. I had to accept his offer. I’d already missed the bus. No brainer there.              I took another sip of water and let the icy liquid moisten the dry block in my throat before nodding.

              “Yes? That’s a yes?” he pressed.

             
“Yes,” I confirmed.

             
He tilted his head up toward the ceiling and expelled a long, lusty breath. “Oh, thank God. Okay. Good. Progress.”

             
At last, I mustered enough strength to push to my feet again. “I’ll get my stuff.”

             
He stepped back, giving me a wide berth. Smart. Considerate. I appreciated the effort. It wasn’t easy to stay calm in the face of all that roiled emotion, and I sensed from the tension in his posture that he struggled to keep his reactions smooth and non-threatening. For me. Another crack fissured through my sealed up heart.

             
As I reached the doorway leading into the hall, his voice called me back. “Lucie?”
              I stopped and looked at him over my shoulder. “Hmm…?”

             
“This doesn’t change anything. What you told me. I’m glad you told me, but if you think a few scars and a bad marriage is going to scare me off, you’re wrong. I’m here for good this time. And whether you want to admit it or not, you’re glad.”

             
Glad? An understatement. For the first time in ten years, my heart gave a little sigh and the light of hope flickered. Yet, I tamped down on that teeny flame.