All That Lies Within

by Lynn Ames

  Rebecca laughed. “No, but I might have kept the thought bubble in my head.” She held out her hand. “I’m Rebecca. Minton.”

  “Sharon Glastonbury. Our lockers were almost next to each other.”

  “I remember. You were the prom queen.” And you look like you still could win a beauty contest or two.

  “And you were the class valedictorian. Smartest kid I ever knew. Oh, how I envied your brain.”

  Rebecca blushed again and lowered her eyes. “Oh, how I envied your looks. You’re still beautiful, by the way.”

  Sharon touched Rebecca gently on the elbow to get her attention. “Keep your head up. You’re a gorgeous woman. Remember, looks fade, intelligence is far more useful. Combine the two together in a package like you and…”

  Rebecca smiled. Was this woman flirting with her, or just trying to make her feel better?

  “C’mon,” Sharon said, looping her arm through Rebecca’s. “Let’s go face the masses together.”

  Rebecca allowed Sharon to lead her into the ballroom. The room was packed with well-dressed women and men in suits. Rebecca recognized several faces. Although names escaped her, she well could remember how she’d been treated by some of these classmates.

  Sharon increased the pressure on the inside of her elbow, and Rebecca looked at her questioningly. “I can feel the tension vibrating off you. How about if we head directly for the bar and get ourselves something to drink? You know, to take the edge off.”

  “That would be fantastic.” She covered Sharon’s hand with her free hand and gave it a quick squeeze, hoping the gesture adequately conveyed her gratitude.

  They ordered drinks and settled at a nearby table. Sharon stared at her appraisingly, and Rebecca willed herself not to look away. “I’m wondering what you do for a living, and I’m thinking I’ll take a couple of guesses before I let you correct me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Hmm. I know you don’t do manual labor—your hands are too soft and the manicure’s too perfect for that.” Sharon cocked her head to one side. “Pretty enough to be a model or an actress, but I think that would be a waste of your intellect.”

  Rebecca raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think actresses aren’t smart? I would think having to inhabit so many characters and memorize all that dialogue would require quite a bit of intelligence.”

  Sharon waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, but not the kind of brain power you possess. I’d be terribly disappointed if you wasted all those smarts entertaining other people.”

  Rebecca had a fleeting image of Dara Thomas, Yale graduate, and thought about what Sharon said. If she weren’t an actress, what would Dara Thomas be doing?

  “Well, I suppose some people would say it’s part of my job to be entertaining.”

  Sharon’s eyes lit up. “Ah, so you’re willing to provide hints. Excellent.” She tapped a finger against the side of her head. “Are you self-employed, or do you work for someone else?”

  “The latter.”

  “Good.” Sharon nodded her approval.

  “Why?”

  “Someone as lovely as you shouldn’t be sitting home by herself. It would be a waste.”

  Definitely flirting. “Although large chunks of my job are spent in blessed solitude.”

  Sharon squinted her eyes, re-evaluating. “I see. I know you wouldn’t be anything as mundane as a bank loan officer or a salesperson that spends a lot of time in the car.”

  “God, no.”

  “Do you train other people?”

  Rebecca pursed her lips. “In a manner of speaking.”

  “Well, damn, girl. This isn’t as simple as I thought it would be.”

  “You’re the one who wanted to guess.”

  “True.” Sharon waved a white cocktail napkin. “I surrender.”

  “That was easy.” Rebecca laughed.

  “So?”

  “I’m a professor.”

  Sharon slapped her hand on the table. “Teacher. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Is that a noble enough profession for you?”

  “Absolutely. Is it an Ivy League school?”

  “Middlebury College.”

  “In Vermont?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Great school. My niece went there. Second smartest kid I ever knew, after you.” Sharon’s fingers brushed Rebecca’s forearm. “What do you teach?”

  “American literature.”

  Sharon nodded. “I can see that.”

  “So, is that a waste of my talents?”

  “No. No, I think that’s perfect. Challenging and shaping the next generation to take over the world? I like it.”

  “I’m so glad you approve. So, your turn.”

  “Guess away.”

  “Not me,” Rebecca said. “I’ll take the straightforward approach. What do you do for a living?”

  “Really? Just like that? No foreplay?”

  Rebecca feigned mock surprise. “Is that what you were doing?”

  “As if you didn’t know. You’re too savvy not to have figured that out already.” Sharon batted her eyelashes suggestively. “Any interest?”

  Rebecca shifted in her seat. Sharon was a remarkably attractive woman, and it had been so long…

  “I’m sorry if I misconstrued.” Sharon started to rise, and Rebecca stopped her by grabbing her hand.

  “Don’t go.” Sharon sat back down. “You didn’t.” More quietly, Rebecca said, “If I was in the market, I’d jump at the chance—”

  “I should’ve known someone as hot as you would be taken.”

  Rebecca shook her head. “It isn’t that. I’m single. It’s just—”

  “You’ve been burned.”

  “Badly,” Rebecca agreed.

  “Been there, done that, myself.” Sharon looked at Rebecca earnestly. “I’m not asking you to marry me. I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year in high school. I figure now is a good time to tick one of my fantasies off my list.”

  “You. Had a crush on me?” Rebecca blushed.

  “Is that so hard to believe?”

  Rebecca thought back to the chubby, ill-at-ease, self-conscious, socially inept girl she’d been back then. The idea that a girl that every boy in school lusted after harbored a secret interest in her… Well, it simply was inconceivable.

  “Frankly, yes.”

  Sharon put her hand on Rebecca’s leg under the table and Rebecca’s stomach flipped. “I’m telling you the truth. I meant what I said. Your brain was so sexy. I just wanted to sit and listen to you talk.”

  Ah, so it wasn’t sexual, after all.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Sharon said, removing her hand. “It wasn’t like that. I was attracted to you for your brain, but make no mistake about it, I would’ve jumped your bones in a heartbeat if I’d known what the hell I was doing.” Sharon’s laugh was self-deprecating. “I had all these feelings for girls and I had no clue what that meant.”

  This was something Rebecca could understand. “Me either. I just knew I wasn’t interested in boys. But then, they weren’t interested in me, either, so that sort of made it a moot point.”

  “Well, look around the room, honey. Every man in the room is drooling over you now.”

  Rebecca glanced around dubiously. There were heads turned in their direction. “I suspect they’re looking at you, not me. It was true then, and it’s true now.”

  “Thank you, but you’re selling yourself short.” Sharon’s eyes were alive with appreciation. “So what do you say? You want to blow this pop stand? Go someplace more private? I’ve got a room upstairs.”

  Rebecca glanced around, then down at her watch, surprised. They’d been sitting there, nursing their drinks for the better part of an hour. “Don’t you think we ought to at least pretend to be engaged?”

  “I thought that’s what we were about to do—become more engaged.” Sharon’s voice was smooth as honey.

  “I was talking about the event, as you well know. Do
n’t you think we ought to at least mingle for a little bit before we take off?”

  “You afraid people will talk?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “Why would it bother me if people I never cared about speculate that I left the party with the most attractive woman in the place? I would think that would be the ultimate revenge.”

  “Is that what you’re looking for? Revenge?” Sharon’s voice was quieter now.

  “No. These cretins don’t mean anything to me. I don’t give a fig what conclusions they draw.”

  “Then come with me now, Rebecca.” Sharon took Rebecca’s hand under the table. “I promise not to put any pressure on you. I swear this is a bucket list thing. Consider it an act of mercy.”

  “Pfft. As if.” Rebecca thought about how much she didn’t want to know anything about these people or get caught up on their lives. She could go back to her own hotel and read. Or she could spend a lovely evening with Sharon. Really, there was no decision to make.

  “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Little Dara held tightly to her mother’s hand. The room was packed with people, all dressed in black, many of them holding handkerchiefs and blowing their noses. As she peeked around her mother’s dress, Dara spied her Uncle Charlie, her Aunt Charlotte, her older cousin Georgia, and her mother’s best friend, Tessa. Just past them was a big, shiny black box. Her mother had called it a casket.

  Everyone who came in stopped by the box, and then came to kiss her mother on the cheek and cry. Dara thought it an odd ritual. All the while, her grandfather stood ramrod straight next to the box, alternately beaming or brooding at the people standing in front of the box. As Dara never had been particularly close to him, she was happy to keep her distance.

  A man Dara didn’t know bent over to whisper in her mother’s ear, pointing in the direction of another room. Her mother sniffled a little and nodded.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the man said, straightening up, “if you would please take your seats in the chapel, we’ll be getting started momentarily.”

  Dara’s mother waited for the room to clear, and then gave Dara’s hand a tug. They moved in the direction of the box. Her mother let go of her hand and leaned into the box. Dara wasn’t tall enough to see inside, so she watched her grandfather warily as he leaned over and patted her mother on the back as she sobbed.

  After a few minutes, her mother turned to her. “Do you want to say goodbye to Granddad?”

  “Why? Is he going somewhere?”

  “Dara, we talked about this.” Her mother’s voice was stern. “Granddad has gone to heaven to be with Grandmom.”

  Slowly, Dara shook her head, watching her grandfather out of the corner of her eye. “He hasn’t left yet, Mother. He’s right there.” Dara pointed.

  Her mother gasped and grabbed Dara by the shoulders, her fingers digging into Dara’s flesh.

  “You’re hurting me.” More frightening to Dara was the look on her mother’s face. “How could you?” Her mother shook her shoulders. “Why do you want to hurt me?”

  “I-I don’t want to hurt you, Mother.” Tears began to roll down Dara’s cheeks. “Granddad is right there. He’s been watching the whole time. He called Mr. Sandstein a-a something-monious son-of-bitch.”

  “Augh. You are a hateful child. I wish I’d never had you.”

  The slap stunned Dara and left her cheek stinging, but the words hurt more.

  “What’s going on here?” Dara’s father strode into the room.

  “She’s insisting that Dad is over there, perfectly fine and watching. Why must she torment me?” Dara’s mother hid her face in a handkerchief.

  “I’ll take care of this.”

  Dara’s father lifted her into the air. Suddenly, her head was rushing downward and she closed her eyes. When she opened them, her upper body was hovering just above the inside of the box. She was nose-to-nose with someone who looked vaguely like her grandfather, only more pinched and sunken. She slammed her mouth shut on a scream.

  “That,” her father hissed, “is your grandfather. He’s dead. Here.” He used his free hand to yank Dara’s hand and place it on her grandfather’s cheek. It was freezing cold to the touch. Dara struggled to pull back, to get away.

  When her father put her down, Dara bolted for the exit. She ran out the door and into the parking lot, her eyes wild and her little body shaking with fear. She found their car and pulled frantically on the door handle. The door was locked. She heard a noise and turned to see her father walking toward her, his face a mask of anger. Again, Dara yanked on the handle.

  When her father was a few steps away, Dara simply slid down to the ground, crouching and cowering.

  “What are you doing?” her father asked.

  Dara’s lip quivered. “I—”

  “Never mind. You want to be out here so badly? Fine.” Her father unlocked the front passenger door, then reached around and unlocked and opened the back door. “Get in.” He made a sweeping motion with his hand. When she didn’t move, he gave her a quick shove.

  Dara stumbled into the back seat. Her father closed the door and locked the car.

  “You can stay in there until the funeral is over. I’m sure your mother will be much relieved.”

  When he was gone, Dara curled up on the vinyl seat and cried. After a short while, she fell asleep. She awoke to see an angel watching over her. She was radiant. Her hair glistened in the sunlight. She wore a flowing bright white robe that matched the feathers on her wings.

  “Don’t be afraid, my child, for we angels are here, watching over you. Always.”

  “I’m not afraid of you.” Dara jutted out her chin.

  The angel smiled. “I’m glad.”

  As she looked into the angel’s kind face, Dara’s resolve crumbled and tears pooled in her eyes.

  “It’s okay to cry.” The angel wrapped her wings around Dara, and she knew a comfort unlike any she’d ever known.

  “Everybody thinks I’m crazy. The other kids make fun of me and my parents hate me.”

  “They don’t hate you, dear. They simply cannot see the things that you see and so they do not understand. For instance, they didn’t see your grandfather standing next to the casket, but you did. Most of your classmates didn’t see Timmy on the playground, but you did.”

  Dara looked up into the angel’s face. “You know about Timmy?”

  “Of course. We see everything.”

  Dara scrunched up her eyes. “You said ‘most’ of the kids couldn’t see Timmy.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Does that mean that I wasn’t the only one who saw him?”

  The angel laughed delightedly and hugged Dara to her. “You’re a very bright little person. Yes, there was one other little girl who saw, but she wasn’t as brave as you in speaking out.”

  Dara frowned. “I don’t want to be brave. I want to be like everyone else.”

  “I want to be like everyone else. I want to be like everyone else. I want to be like everyone else…” Dara’s head flailed from side to side on the pillow. She gasped and shot up as she came awake in the hotel bed. Sweat dripped between her breasts. She buried her face in her hands as her heart continued to pound. You’re not that little girl anymore. That was a long time ago. That time is done. Let it go.

  Dara turned and put her feet on the floor. The bedside clock read 5:55 a.m.

  After a trip to the bathroom and a splash of cold water on her face, she lay back down. Dara didn’t want to sleep—no, that would be risking another dream. Besides, her mind still was racing. She hadn’t recalled those childhood memories in a very long time, but it wasn’t hard to figure out what had triggered them.

  The laptop sat on the table in the corner. The last thing Dara wanted to do was subject herself to more of her mother’s confessional tale. But today Dara would have to decide whether her mother lived or died. At the very least, she owed it to this woman she barely knew to hear her out.

  “How about if I ca
ll room service and have them send up some champagne?” Sharon asked, as she dropped her purse on the dresser.

  “Sure.” Rebecca stood just inside the door, wondering what the hell she was doing here.

  “You are planning to come farther into the room, aren’t you?”

  Sharon’s delicate hand rested on her hip, inviting Rebecca’s scrutiny. The fingers were long and tapered, and…

  “I’ll take that for a yes,” Sharon said, acknowledging Rebecca’s stare. She approached slowly, deliberately, maintaining eye contact.

  Rebecca swallowed hard, rooted to the spot, mesmerized. Then Sharon was standing in front of her, running a finger across her lips, and all thought fled in a rush of blood to Rebecca’s center. She knew exactly why she was there. It had been too long and she badly needed to restore her confidence. A very attractive woman wanted her—her, the chubby, awkward kid—apparently to satisfy a teenage fantasy. Well, she certainly could help with that.

  She sucked Sharon’s index finger into her mouth. As Sharon’s eyes fluttered, Rebecca pulled her close, released her finger, and claimed her lips instead. They were soft, intoxicating, and Rebecca happily lost herself in the kiss.

  As if in a dream, she walked Sharon backward toward the bed, never relinquishing her lips, and unzipped her dress as they moved. Rebecca was vaguely aware of Sharon’s hands kneading her ass. It spurred her on. She grazed her fingertips along Sharon’s spine, pausing to unhook her bra and release her breasts as Sharon gasped in pleasure.

  Emboldened and on fire, Rebecca eased the dress and the bra off Sharon’s shoulders in one motion and let both garments fall to the floor at their feet. She felt a rush of air on her skin and barely had the time to wonder how Sharon had managed to de-frock her without her being aware of it.

  When Sharon covered Rebecca’s nipple with her warm tongue, Rebecca pulled her closer, tumbling both of them onto the bed.

  Sharon was relentless. She recaptured Rebecca’s breast, further teasing her already-taut nipple. If Sharon kept this up much longer, Rebecca would lose the upper hand. And after being dominated and used by Cynthia for too long, Rebecca very much wanted to be the one in control.