Montana Secrets (11 page)

“He used to tell me things…things buddies tell each other.”

She swallowed back the lump of fear in her throat. Earl wouldn't have told anyone what he did to her. He wouldn't have risked getting caught or charged.

“Pretty girl like you shouldn't be crying. Seth tell you off like he did all the others?”

“Patient information is confidential. I can't talk about his case.”

“Then how 'bout we go back to the bunkhouse and talk about something else?” Roy asked, his gaze roaming over her body with a leer she saw all too clearly in the shadows of the evening light. “I'll make you feel better in no time, and then you can go back to the house and give Seth a what-for, knowing what it's like to have a real man.”

She smelled the alcohol then. Roy wasn't drunk,
but he was well on his way, and with the scent and Roy's words came another wave of torment and fear.

She broke through the trees and into the clearing not far from the house. The bunkhouse was close by, mere feet away, and she hurriedly put some distance between her and Roy as the man stumbled along the path behind her. Rough laughter reached her ears when he noted her hasty rush.

“You change your mind, you let me know, Grace, you hear? We'll have us a good time you an' me. A mighty fine time.”

 

I
T WAS HALF PAST MIDNIGHT
when Grace opened her bedroom door as quietly as possible and slipped into the hall, making her way to the main room in her sock-encased feet. Being unable to sleep came as no surprise, but, taking a cue from Seth and locking herself in her room after her confrontation with Roy, she'd wound up pacing the floor until everyone turned in, avoiding Maura and Jake's knocks at her door, and trying to cope with Seth's revealing silence.

Seth didn't come to check on her, and the fact he made no attempt after what she'd revealed to him spoke volumes. Just as she feared, he hadn't been able to handle the truth.

Like that was a surprise?

“'Bout time you joined me. Now, don't take off,”
Seth ordered when she stopped and glanced longingly over her shoulder at the darkened hallway behind her.

“It's not easy being on this side of the door, is it? Patience isn't one of my best qualities, and it's about killed me to sit here and wait for you to come out of your room.”

She stared at him, the light from the fire softening his angular features but doing nothing to disguise the worry and upset etched in every muscle.

“How'd you get out of bed?”

“Never went. You're not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight.”

And it was her fault. “Go to bed, Seth.”

“We don't have to talk. We can just sit here and keep each other company.”

She was tempted. She didn't want to return to her room, didn't want to be alone. Didn't want to stare at the walls since her mind had a tendency to superimpose Roy's face over Earl's after the dash from the cabin.

Hesitantly, Grace stepped forward and tried to repress her fear.

“I'm sorry, Grace.”

What happened to not talking? And what was he sorry about? Sorry he'd upset her? Sorry for being so stubborn? Her shoulders stiffened and anger flared
again. If Seth's being sorry had anything to do with pity, he could take his “sorry” and shove it up his—

“For everything. I'm sorry for everything, all right? The way I've acted, the way I brought up your past. Maybe I should've realized sooner, but I didn't. I'm not used to talking about these things, so if I sounded insensitive, it's out of ignorance and nothing else. I'm sorry.”

He turned away from the fire, the look on his face revealing a torment that mirrored her own. In his eyes she saw regrets, sorrow for things said and done, pain and disillusionment.

She ambled closer and dropped down onto the couch closest to the fire, propping her elbow on the arm and leaning her head against her hand, her legs curled up underneath her.

Seth swung himself away from the hearth and slowly rolled over to where she sat. She watched him from beneath her lashes, uneasy, waiting to see what he'd try next after the disastrous kiss that afternoon. But when he did nothing more, she turned her attention to the glowing flames and tried to relax.

After the grandfather clock in the entry chimed once and she didn't think she could stand the waiting any longer, he finally broke the silence.

“Did you think I'd abuse you? Is that why you
ran away when I…when I pressed you for more and hinted I was going to propose?”

She'd always known he'd never abuse her. But she'd still had to leave North Star. She'd had to do all the things her mother hadn't—she'd educated herself, steered clear of men who wanted to control her, made herself independent and strong.

“Earl was killed in a construction accident, wasn't he?”

Seeing the inevitable about to unfold, she braced herself for the questions as best she could and nodded. “He was drinking on the job and fell off a roof. His head hit a block.”

Seth grimaced at the image, and Grace shifted on the couch, all the while aware of Seth's presence beside her. Warm and comforting and strong.

“I don't want your pity, Seth. I survived—and I'm fine,” she insisted even though she knew it was a lie. If she was fine she wouldn't be up in the middle of the night having this conversation.

“Whatever you say to me stays with me, Grace. Including what you told me earlier. You can talk about it with me.”

He couldn't even say it.
It.
Now she was avoiding the word.
Rape.
Molestation. Assault. Whatever the title, it was all the same. All brutal. All unforgettable. Unforgivable. She closed her eyes and sent up a prayer for strength.

“I don't want to talk about the past.”

Seth touched her shoulder, lightly smoothed his fingers over the material of her robe and rubbed. “It's nice and dark here, isn't it? So different from the daytime when Lexi's running around screaming and everyone's busy dealing with problems and worries.”

“No, Seth.”

“I'll make you another deal,” he murmured. “Just like the deals you keep coming up with to get me to go into the gym.”

“I said I don't want to talk about this.”

“But I already know, so you don't have to hide any longer, right?” His voice was gravelly and rough, coaxing. “Why not talk to me?”

“Because you're my patient.”

“I was your boyfriend first,” he countered. “So it's okay. During the day we'll be therapist and patient like you want. You can order me around and get me back on my feet, boss me to your heart's content. But at night when neither of us can sleep, we'll talk,” he continued, “in the dark. As friends. No one will ever be the wiser.”

Like that would work. She sighed and settled her body deeper into the leather cushions. She didn't raise her head from her hand, didn't look at him.

“You've never told anyone, have you?”

She had trouble swallowing because her throat was so dry. Grace closed her eyes and tried to separate herself from the words, but it wasn't possible. The wound, even after all these years, was still too raw. Because she hadn't dealt with it?

“And Jake obviously doesn't have a clue, otherwise he probably wouldn't have asked you back here, knowing the memories were bound to crop up.”

She dipped her head low and rubbed her temple as she shielded her profile from him. In and out, slow and easy. It was getting harder and harder to breathe. The room was too hot.

“Was it a friend of Earl's? One of his construction buddies?”

The crackle and pop of the fire was the only sound in the room. That and the slight, humorless sound she made at Seth's question.

G
RACE SENSED MORE THAN
saw the action. Felt the movement,
felt
Seth's stare as reality set in. Now the disgust and horror would come. The excuses.

She didn't look at him. Didn't move. She'd learned early on how to hold herself perfectly still, unmoving, so that Earl would grow bored with her lack of response, and whatever he did, whether with his fists or his body, would be over quickly and with as little pain as possible.

“It was
Earl?
”

A small nod was all she could manage. Her heart pounded out of control, blood pumping past her ears made Seth's voice seem to come from far away. She strove for calm, prayed for help, and slowly, oh so slowly, her heart began to ease its frantic pace, her breathing became less ragged. At least her counseling sessions had given her something.

The weekly visits had gone on for years, but no matter how hard she tried, she'd never been able to confess all. Her counselor knew by the way she
avoided the gritty details, but the reality was she'd never said the words aloud. If she did, it made it real, not just a nightmare she couldn't escape.

“It wasn't incest,” she murmured, licking her dry lips. One hand hid her from Seth, her other arm wrapped tightly about her legs and pulled her knees to her chest. “Earl wasn't my biological father.”

“As if that makes a difference.” Seth lifted a hand to tenderly stroke her hair. She shouldn't have allowed the contact, told herself to get off the couch and away from him. But in the darkness his touch was exactly what she needed to get through the night and the story he seemed so determined to hear. She stared into the flames, confused by the urge to tell Seth everything. To blurt it all out and get rid of the poison inside her.

“Brent is Earl's child, but I'm not.” She laughed softly. “Thank God I'm not.”

His fingertips barely moved, gentle against her scalp. “How did you find out?”

A shuddering sigh escaped. “The accident. You were on the rodeo circuit then. I remember reading about one of your wins while Brent was in the hospital.”

“How'd it happen?”

Orange and red colors danced with blue in the hearth, hypnotic, mesmerizing. “We were leaving him, but my mother crashed and in the accident
Brent got pretty banged up, a broken arm, pins in one of his legs. He'd always been a small, sick kid, but then Earl went over the edge. Said she'd ‘ruined' Brent for good.”

Seth's stroking touch continued, giving her strength.

“We stayed at the hospital a lot. Stayed away from Earl. But then Brent was released and we had nowhere to go. That's when she admitted to Earl I wasn't his. Brent and I heard her. Then I saw Brent's expression and realized what he already had. She'd only told Earl the truth because she was so desperate, she
wanted
him to kick her out, and me, even if it meant leaving Brent behind.”

Seth seemed to understand her need for contact without making a big deal out of it. His fingers rubbed little circles. In her hair, soothing. On her neck and shoulder, a vain attempt at easing the tension.

“Sometimes I can still hear her screams, the sound of his fists as they hit her,” she said, numb. “Flesh hitting flesh makes a funny sound, you know? Different from when you hit bone. Anyway, he beat her up, threw her out and she…never came back to get us.”

The vise around her chest returned and Grace struggled for control. She heard the counselor's voice in her head, a nice woman she'd chosen because she couldn't handle the thought of telling
some strange man. A man who'd look at her and possibly let his mind wander to the things Earl had done.

Grace panted and tried to hold back her emotions, vaguely hearing Seth's murmurs to take it easy. Relax. Take slow, deep breaths. His arm surrounded her shoulders, but she didn't feel trapped by him. No, in that moment, in the dark and in his arms, she was protected.

“Easy, honey. Oh, God, help her. Grace, calm down, you're okay,” he soothed, kissing her hair, her forehead. “You're okay. Breathe, honey, breathe.”

She swallowed, wet her lips to moisten them even though her accelerated breathing dried them right out again, and prayed for the dizziness to go away. She heard Seth talking, whispering nonsense that meant nothing and everything at the same time. Soothing and tender.

“Good. That's it, Grace, nice and slow.”

A small sound escaped her, a half laugh, half cry. Seth muttered something under his breath, but she couldn't make out his words. Instead she took the moment for what it was and closed her eyes, relishing the feel of his arms around her.

With her dates, she'd been more inclined to simply get
through
the good night kiss or hug rather than enjoy them. Seth was different. His touch had always been different.

After a long while, after the fire had burned down and lost some of its warmth, Seth shifted. “I told myself all afternoon I wouldn't ask for details, that I wouldn't push you to answer questions—but I want to understand.”

Resigned, she nodded, the move giving him silent permission to ask whatever he wanted. The burden was beginning to lift, slowly but surely. It wasn't gone, not by a long shot, but there was a part of her that was free for the first time ever.

“When did it start, Grace? How?”

His hand stroked her back. Up and down, slow, easy caresses. “You can tell me anything. Remember that. Anything at all, let me help you.” Seth shifted so that he was closer to her, his hand massaging her neck. His other hand covered her fist, and she felt his tension. His rage.

A shudder racked her. “It was that same night. After she'd told Earl the truth. He came into my room. I was thirteen, almost fourteen.”

A blistering curse filled the air. Seth pressed her close, held her and placed a long kiss to her forehead. Two. Three. Four kisses. His breathing was ragged, his body hot. Grace turned her hand over, loosening her fist, and he immediately laced their fingers and squeezed. As if hearing the words hurt him as much as Earl had hurt her.

He pressed another kiss to her forehead. Her hair.
A half dozen kisses that, in that moment, helped her more than the counseling sessions. Helped her realize she was still a person. Still worthy of gentleness, kindness and—

“Keep going. Tell me all of it.”

She couldn't look at him. She shut her eyes and buried her nose against his shoulder. If Seth pushed her away in disgust afterward, at least she'd always have this moment of safety and security. This moment of comfort and caring. She hadn't known how badly she needed it, either. To be held while she said the words aloud.

“I usually slept downstairs, Brent upstairs. But when we brought Brent home, we switched rooms. The next day Earl didn't acknowledge what he'd done. He'd kept his h-hand over my mouth and warned me to keep quiet. Said it was my fault because—because I l-looked like my mother.”

“You are
not
at fault,” Seth growled. He caressed her face with his broad hand and lifted it so that she had to look him in the eyes. “Tell me you didn't believe that son of a—”

“I didn't,” she whispered hoarsely. “I
don't,
” she stressed, lowering her gaze. “But he said horrible things. That he'd loved her and she'd ruined everything good in his life. That it was only fair that he got to r-ruin me.”

“You aren't ruined, Grace. You hear me? Yes, he hurt you, he raped you, but he didn't
ruin
you.”

“I couldn't stop him.”

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. “I know, honey, I know. But it's not your fault. You were a little girl.”

“I didn't tell,” she continued, the desire to confess all too strong to ignore. “I didn't leave. Brent was hurt,” she choked. “He was only nine.”

“He depended on you,” Seth soothed.

“After the fight, after what our mother said, Brent knew I wanted to run away but he begged me not to leave him. And I knew I couldn't tell anyone because they might split us up into different homes. Or maybe take me and leave him.” She laughed bitterly. “And if someone came to the house to check out the situation and
didn't
take us away…” She shook her head. “I couldn't risk it, Seth, don't you see?”

“Yes,” he murmured. “I understand, Grace. You did what you thought was best to protect Brent.”

She shifted slightly but Seth made sure she didn't pull too far away.

“Did Earl abuse Brent?”

“Not sexually. Earl definitely liked women.” She shrugged. “I was young but tall and big for my age, as tall as my mom.”

“Don't make excuses for him,” Seth argued.
“Don't belittle yourself.” He stroked her hair, pressing a kiss against her crown. “Did Brent know?”

“No. When the casts came off we switched rooms again. My room was right next to Earl's.”

Seth winced. “How long did this happen? How long did he abuse you?”

That was the question she'd dreaded most. To say it out loud made it seem even more shameful. More pathetic. She'd always thought it wouldn't happen again, that the next time Earl came to her room she'd be able to stop him. Only she hadn't.

“Th-three years,” she finally managed to say, her voice so low she wondered if he heard her. He couldn't ask her to say it again. She couldn't.

Seth pressed another kiss to her forehead, the muscles of his arms and chest trembling all around her. “It didn't stop until Earl's death?”

She laughed, the sound strained. “I never imagined being so happy because someone died. I even made a cake.” Another laugh burst from her lips, the sound high-pitched. “I told Brent it was in case someone came by but we c-cut it and ate it ourselves.”

“It's understandable, Grace. Anyone would've behaved the same. But you can't let the past keep hold of you forever. You've got to stop punishing yourself.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” he murmured. “Because you're going to drop soon unless you come to terms with what happened.”

She shut her eyes as though that would block out his words, let Seth hold her for a moment more before she forced herself to pull away from him. “I'm fine now. I
am.
”

“You exercise until you're so tired you think you can crawl into bed and not dream, don't you?” He reached out and put a hand on the nape of her neck, tugging her toward him.

The gesture was loose and easy and not in the least bit overpowering, so Grace let herself be guided back against his chest. Let herself bask in his warmth and solidity.

“I know what that's like,” he continued. “When Arie died, all I could think of was what I should've done, how I should've felt. Lying in the hospital, I had a lot of time to think—and all I could think about were the mistakes I'd made. Wonder if my accident was my punishment for not being the husband I should've been. Guilt's a hard thing to overcome, Grace, and it's something I understand. We can forgive others, but when it comes to moving on and forgiving ourselves we aren't nearly as generous.”

Oh, was that ever true. “The nightmares stopped for a while,” she said. “But when Jake kept calling,
wanting me to come back to North Star to be your therapist, they started up again.”

He squeezed her tight. “You came, anyway.”

“Some demons have to be faced.”

She'd always blamed herself for not being stronger. For not fighting harder. For being so afraid. But Earl's construction-worker fists had been vicious and sometimes it
had
been easier to let him have his way, because she knew she wasn't going to win the battle. Because the punches and slaps hurt too much. For her and Brent both.

“Grace, when you're with a man, do you panic? Is that why you pulled away from me when I kissed you?”

She used her hands against the arm of the couch to shove herself from him once again. This time he let her go.

“Okay, okay,” he said, holding up a hand. “It's too soon for another revelation, I get it. You're off the hook for now.”

Her gaze narrowed. “What do you mean for now?”

His smile was both tight and teasing. “I mean for now, it's obvious you don't want to talk anymore so I'll give you some space.” He caught one of her hands before she could snatch it away and his thumb brushed over the top, back and forth, slow, tantalizing sweeps of work-roughened skin. “Come on, I'm hungry. Let's go get a snack.”

She'd bared her soul and he wanted to eat? “Seth, you can't just—”

He dropped her hand and placed a finger against her lips. “Trust me. You've shared your secret with me and now I'm going to reward you by letting you in on a top-secret Rowland family recipe for the ultimate midnight snack.”

Unable to stop herself, she smiled weakly. “Top secret?”

Seth winked at her. “Uh-huh. Chocolate chip oatmeal cookies, vanilla ice cream and hot fudge topped with whipped cream.”

He was trying to distract her. That's why he'd eased off on the questions, to give her breathing room. But what did Seth feel? Did he want her now? Or was this whole teasing, snack thing his way of distancing himself from her? A way to give himself space? She needed some space herself. Time to celebrate this milestone. She couldn't think anymore, which meant there was only one thing left to do.

“Race you to the kitchen.”