by E V Lind
Beth made a sympathetic sound but in truth she didn’t really know what Ryan Jones was like. So far, he’d been churlish, suspicious and overbearing. Not exactly conducive to making friends, even if she had been inclined to do so. But then, he had brought her Snowball—and so far, he’d followed through on all the things he’d promised or been coerced into providing for her.
She thought again of how the thought of Jonathon had made Elizabeth feel, experienced again that rush of excitement. What had he looked like, she wondered. In her dreams he’d been hazy—his features more like Ryan’s than she’d wanted to believe was true. She wasn’t attracted to Ryan at all, she told herself. Not in the least bit. But now, when she thought of him, there was an unwelcome curl of arousal flickering at her core.
“Ryan strikes me as the kind of man who’d rather do for himself, or do without,” she said eventually.
“Oh, yes. He is that. And do for others, too. He’s always been a caring boy.”
Caring? Beth wouldn’t have gone so far as to call him that but, whatever. A mother was entitled to her delusions about her son. A cold chill infused her body. She doubted Dan Henderson’s mother had had the least idea that her golden son was truly a monster beneath his oh-so-perfect façade. Or maybe she had. Maybe his was behavior learned by example.
Beth shook her head. She didn’t want to think about Dan or any of the Hendersons. A tiny ripple feathered inside her tummy, and she gasped. The sensation was so much stronger than it had been the last time she’d thought she’d felt it.
“Baby moving?” Mary-Ann asked with a gentle smile. “It’s a lovely feeling, isn’t it?”
Beth nodded. “I’m not used to it yet.”
“You’ll need to see the doctor, just to make sure everything’s going well. Do you want me to make you an appointment?”
“N-no, I’ll take care of it myself,” Beth protested.
“Make sure you do. You’re not just looking after yourself now,” Mary-Ann advised. “Well, run along with you. I only hope Aggie’s with it today.”
Me too, Beth thought privately before collecting her coat and leaving out the front door. The wind had turned cold and blustery, with gusts plucking at her hair and her unbuttoned coat as if to remind Beth that no matter her choices, there was always something bigger and stronger than her out there. She fastened the front of her coat and dug out her car keys as she reached her car and extracted the bag in which she’d put the quilt and the diaries.
The quilt had been so thin with age and wear it had folded into a grocery bag without any difficulty. Between it and the diaries they weighed next to nothing but for some reason the package felt heavy as Beth walked the short distance to the home. The same woman who had greeted them the day before saw her into the facility and gestured for her to go inside.
Aggie was in her room, exactly as she’d been the day before. She didn’t so much as look up when Beth entered her room but Beth noted immediately the doll in Aggie’s arms and the way she petted it, over and over, with one hand.
“Hi, Aggie, it’s me, Beth. Do you remember me from yesterday?”
Aggie continued to stare into space as if Beth hadn’t even spoken.
Beth stepped closer and put the bag on the ground in front of Aggie’s chair before reaching inside to pull out the quilt.
“I brought your quilt, Aggie. It’s so pretty with all these pinks. Do you want me to put it on your bed?”
Again, no response. Deciding to simply follow through with what she’d suggested, Beth turned and shook out the quilt and lay it over the neatly made single bed against the wall. She smoothed it out, making sure it was tucked in against the wall and stepped back to survey her handiwork. There, a little bit more of Aggie’s past brought into her present. It couldn’t hurt, could it?
She turned around and came up short. A squeak of surprise ejected from her mouth at Aggie standing directly behind her.
“Aggie? Are you all right?”
“Lizzie? I’ve been waiting for you. Why did you take so long to come back?”
“My name is Beth, Aggie. I came to see you yesterday.”
“You’re not Lizzie?” The old woman’s voice shook querulously, her eyes filling with tears. “I want Lizzie. Where’s Lizzie?”
Beth felt awful. The last thing she’d wanted to do was upset Aggie. Distraction. It had usually worked with the children who’d visit the café where she’d worked before. If Aggie was locked within the mind of a child then hopefully it would work now, too.
“I brought you Lizzie’s diaries, Aggie. Come, sit down. I’ll give them to you. You can read them.”
“Diaries?”
“Yes, you remember,” Beth said gently, taking the old woman’s frail hands, guiding her back to her chair by the window. “You asked me to find them for you. They were right where you said, under the floorboard in your room.”
A stricken look passed over Aggie’s face. “Don’t tell Mamma. She’ll be so mad,” she whispered fiercely.
“No, I promise, I won’t tell your Mamma.”
“Mamma beats Lizzie.”
Beth stifled a shudder at the wealth of horror and fear that infused Aggie’s words. “I know, Aggie, I know.”
She reached into the grocery bag and pulled out the wrapped bundle of diaries, placing them gently on Aggie’s lap.
“There you are. Exactly as you said.”
Aggie’s fingers plucked at the ribbon that held the canvas closed and slowly and carefully unwrapped the fabric, exposing the books inside. She sighed as she saw them, her trembling fingers tracing their outline.
“Mamma still has one, you know. She found it. She’s angry. So angry.”
Beth was at a loss for words. How did she tell the old woman that her mother was long gone? That if she’d had the diary it was probably now long gone, too.
Aggie looked up and stared at Beth straight in the eye. For the first time Beth felt as if Aggie was actually present and aware of her surroundings. She reached out for Beth, curling one surprisingly strong hand around Beth’s forearm.
“You have to find it. Lizzie’s diary. Mamma mustn’t keep it. You have to take it from Mamma. Promise me you’ll find it.”
“Aggie, I—”
“Promise me!”
There was a fervent urgency to Aggie’s words that propelled Beth into responding. “I will. I promise.”
Aggie’s anxiety deflated the moment Beth spoke. The almost fanatical light in the old woman’s eyes faded to the vacant cornflower blue they’d been only moments earlier, the expression on her face slackening, her fingers loosening their grip and her hand dropping back into her lap.
“Find Lizzie,” Aggie muttered, turning her attention to the diaries and meticulously wrapping them again in the square of canvas. She shoved them back toward Beth. “Take them. Find my Lizzie.”
“These are yours, Aggie,” Beth protested, but it was useless.
Aggie had retreated once more to some faraway place in her mind. Beth put the diaries back in the grocery bag and got up to leave.
“I’ll see you another day, okay, Aggie?”
Aggie made no response.
Outside, the wind had dropped a little but the sky continued to be overcast and gloomy. Much like how she felt after that encounter, Beth admitted to herself as she began to walk back to where she’d parked her car. A big fat drop of rain hit the top of her head, the herald of more to come. Beth decided to take a short cut through the churchyard and small graveyard next to the hospital. She’d always found graveyards to be peaceful places but today, with the lowering clouds building above her and the awful half-light created by the gathering storm, she couldn’t help but feel anxious.
A rabbit scampered across her path, startling her and making her drop the parcel in her arms. Beth bent to pick it up and paused to look at the row of headstones beside the path. She could easily make out the name MacDonald. Curiosity got the better of her and stepped closer to inspect them. Some of the stones were w
ell worn, indicating it had been a family plot for some time. The newest amongst them looked like it belonged to Aggie’s mother. Beth scanned the dates, yes, that was probably right. She studied the engraving. Beryl MacDonald, Wife and Mother. Was that all that was left to mark a person’s passage in life? Had Mrs. MacDonald really been that simply summed up by those who knew her. Loved her? Then she noticed the other headstone. Elizabeth MacDonald. Born May 4th, 1922. Beth reached forward to scrub at the stone, to see if the rest of the engraving had become obscured by dirt and time but there was no more. Just a date of birth, nothing else.
Slut! Whore!
The words echoed loudly in her ears. Bile rose in Beth’s throat, burning an acrid path as she became enveloped in a wave of hatred so fierce and so strong it made her look around in terror, every muscle in her body coiled and bunched, urging her to flee. Had Dan found her? Was he here? She had to get away. She bent her head to the increasingly heavy downpour and scurried through the rest of the graveyard and out onto the road beyond.
Tears streaked her cheeks, blurring her vision, as fear drove her to run down the sidewalk as fast as she could. Beth was so intent on getting to her car, she didn’t see the figure emerging ahead of her until it was too late. She slammed full-on into the bulky male body—both of them tumbling to the pavement in a flurry of arms and legs. The bag with the diaries went flying—splitting open when it hit the pavement and sending its contents flying—and the shock of landing on a hard, male chest drove the air from her lungs in a sudden whoosh.
Instinct made her fight, made her struggle fiercely against the arms that bound her. Her ears buzzed, her hair obscuring her face as she tried to wrench herself loose. Her arms might be restrained but her legs were still free. Impulse made her drive one knee upward, but in the next second both her legs were clamped between her attacker’s and he was rolling them both on the path until she was underneath him. A raw scream rose in her throat.
“Beth! Beth! It’s me, dammit. Calm the fuck down.”
Ryan’s voice penetrated the mist of panic that crammed her mind which even now sent adrenaline pumping through her body.
“Get off me. Get off me!” she pleaded.
“If you promise not to try and turn me into a eunuch again.”
His hold on her loosened and suddenly she was free. The instant he let her go she was rolling away and drew herself up onto her hands and knees. Her breath came in hard gasps and her heart pounded in her chest as if trying to break free. In her peripheral vision she saw Ryan reach for her. Adrenaline surged again and she was on her feet.
“Don’t touch me!” she cried, fending him off with one hand and backing away as quickly as she could.
Ryan’s arm dropped back to his side. “Beth, stop. I won’t hurt you. Just stop.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been working at the house and you didn’t come home. I came to look for you. To make sure you were okay and to give you the new set of keys from the locksmith. Mom said you’d gone up to see Aggie so I...” his voice trailed away.
Beth chewed her lower lip. She didn’t know what to say. She wasn’t used to anyone looking out for her—certainly not anyone like Ryan Jones.
“C’mon, Beth, let’s get out of the rain. You’re soaked through.”
“The diaries, where are the diaries?”
She began looking around. A cry of dismay ejecting from her lips when she saw the packet of diaries laying in long grass several yards away. The ribbon had slipped and the canvas had come undone on one side. She moved quickly, gathering the booklets up. Thank God they didn’t appear to be too damaged.
“What are those?”
Ryan had come up behind her and she wheeled around. He put both hands up in a gesture of surrender.
“It’s okay, I get it. I won’t touch you.”
Beth looked up—saw the concern on his face and felt a tiny bit of the tension that had gripped her slide free.
“I have to get these out of the rain,” she said.
Ryan rolled his eyes. “You think? C’mon, let’s go.”
He gestured for her to precede him down the path but she remained where she was. Eventually, with a huff of frustration and a muttered string of curses he went ahead of her. Beth followed a safe distance behind. They dashed across the street and sheltered under a store overhang. Rain battered the bull-nosed, corrugated iron roofing and Beth took a moment to check the diaries again. Damp, yes, but not irretrievably damaged, she noted in relief.
“I had no idea you were training to be a linebacker,” Ryan muttered darkly from beside her.
It suddenly occurred to Beth that Ryan had borne the brunt of their tumble. She noted he was unconsciously rubbing his upper thigh.
“Oh my God, your leg. Are you okay?”
“Now she asks me? Yeah, I’m fine. But what the hell were you running from?”
A shiver of dread traveled the length of Beth’s spine. “I—nothing. It was nothing. It started to rain and I just wanted to get back, that’s all.”
Ryan gave her a hard look. He didn’t believe her, that much was patently obvious. She met his gaze, felt an unaccustomed jolt of awareness as she was drawn into their depths. Awareness, and something else. Familiarity. Her mind flung itself back to the dream she’d had last night. Heat flooded her body and she swiftly averted her gaze, staring instead at the steady downpour of rain that came in waves across the street, filling the gutters and rushing down a nearby drain. Not unlike her life, she thought, heading down a drain. That little flutter deep in her belly made its presence felt. Oh God, the baby. She hadn’t even spared it a thought in the fall. Was it all right?
“Beth, you’ve gone awfully pale. You okay?”
She nodded. “I’m fine. Really. I—I have to go.”
“Wait, here are your new house keys.”
Ryan dug in his pocket and handed her the keys, clearly tagged front and back.
“Thanks,” Beth said briefly as she accepted them from him.
She turned and headed for her car, aware of his gaze upon her every step of the way. In the vehicle, she put the diaries on the passenger seat and dug in the pocket of her coat for the car key. For a second, she thought she must have lost it up there in the graveyard. Revulsion filled her at the idea of having to go back and look for them but then her fingers brushed metal and relief swamped her. Her hand was shaking as she finally inserted the key in the ignition. She turned it, waited for the engine to fire to life, but nothing. Again, and again she tried, to no avail.
“Beth?” Ryan knocked at the glass on the passenger’s side. “Pop the hood.”
She felt under the dash for the release mechanism and did as he instructed. She heard him fiddle around under the hood then he yelled at her to try the engine again. Still nothing. He came around to her side of the car.
“It sounds like it could be the starter motor. You’ll have to leave the car here. I’ll run you home.”
Beth wanted to protest but knew it would be futile. Without the car she wasn’t going anywhere. She grabbed an old plastic bag from inside the glove compartment and put the diaries inside, then climbed out and locked the car.
“I’m parked just over there,” Ryan said handing her his keys. “You go wait in the truck and I’ll let Ma know that you’ve had to leave the car here in town, otherwise if she sees it here, she’ll worry.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll steal your truck?”
She didn’t know what made her ask it but the words just fell from her mouth.
Ryan gave her another one of those looks. “Are you planning on it?”
She shook her head, embarrassed by her stupid remark.
“I’ll be back in a minute.”
He was as good as his word and they drove in silence back to the house where he pulled up at the bottom of the stairs so she wouldn’t have far to go in the rain. She noticed straight away that he’d finished cutting away the bushes that had overgrown around the front and sides of
the house.
“You’ve been busy,” she commented.
“Yeah, until the rain came.”
He kept the truck idling. Beth warred with herself for several seconds. Should she ask him in? She looked at the house, at the now dark and vacant windows. Waiting. Watching. Suddenly the idea of going inside alone was more than she could bear.
“You must be cold. Please, come inside. Have a hot drink or some soup before you go home?”
“You sure about that?”
She hesitated and looked toward the house then back at him again. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Inside, the house was cold. Ryan hastened to stoke up the fire in the kitchen range while Beth let in the kitten, which immediately headed for the mat in front of the range and began grooming herself. Beth secured the door, then poured the soup she’d brought home from work yesterday into a saucepan. Once the pot was on the stove she went to the old linen press in the hallway and dragged out a couple of towels. She tossed one to Ryan.
“Here, I don’t know how much it’ll help but—”
“Thanks, it’s great.”
He roughly toweled his hair and stripped off his wet jacket, laying it over the back of a chair. Even his long-sleeved T-shirt was wet, clinging to his chest and abdomen in the most unsettling way. She already knew he was hard and muscled, she’d felt it herself on more than one occasion now. A prickle of something that wasn’t fear or nervousness teased at her and she averted her eyes immediately and turned her attention back to the pot on the stove. Even so, she couldn’t rid herself of the disturbing rise of heat that flushed her cheeks.
Flashes of the dream she’d had last night flickered through her thoughts. It was stupid, she told herself. The gray-eyed man in her dream was certainly not Ryan Jones. He was simply a figment of her imagination. Nothing else. Her fingertips tingled at the memory of tracing the ridged lines of a masculine abdomen, of brushing against the dusting of hair that trailed from his belly button to—
