She settled into her new routine quickly. Because Gareth was habitually neat, did not entertain, and the house was small, her housekeeping chores were quite reasonable. He spent most of his daytime hours working at his computer, or occasionally doing restoration work in the tower. Aneurin, named after one of the very first Welsh poets, spent a lot of his time with his master, but as he became more familiar with Shari, sometimes he would follow her around the house as she worked.
Regardless of the weather, late every afternoon, master and dog went down to the ocean, walking along the rocky seacoast. Gareth was insistent on being alone for these walks, with Aneurin to watch over him and only himself to talk to; he wouldn't even take his cell phone. The only explanation he gave was that this was his way of restoring his creative energy, and she felt it wasn't her place to question it. Shari welcomed this quiet life. There was just enough work to keep her busy throughout the day, and in her free time, she was learning things she had once hoped to learn from Charles, with his exclusive private school background. Gareth loved music, and he was more than willing to discuss it with her while they ate, or even to spend the evening sitting on the porch. They talked about how Rachmaninoff had toured for years as a concert pianist, unable to compose after leaving his beloved Russian homeland, until a Swiss hypnotist cured him. There was also a collection of Celtic music recordings, and Shari could tell by the music in Gareth's voice when he talked about it that this was his personal favorite. It didn't take much encouragement for Shari to plunge into the book collection, either. She was able to read to her heart's content, without worrying about being disciplined for wasting her time when she should have been getting the house ready for guests. Gareth talked about literature with her and obviously loved it as much as she did. There were times when his voice alone made her tingle all over, and occasionally, while he was out walking, she would indulge in daydreams, wondering how it would feel if he touched her, danced with her, kissed her.
At first, she missed watching television. Charles had refused to waste money on books, believing that they would soon be dinosaurs in a new technological age, and Shari had not been allowed to go anywhere alone, so she had rarely gone to the library. Catching certain TV programs, especially about nature or animals, had been the only escape she had. Even while on the run, she had tried to catch her shows in bus depots and motels. However, in the lighthouse it did not take long for her to learn that books and her imagination could provide just as much satisfaction as television had. In her free time, she often walked up to the village. There were a few interesting little specialty shops catering to the occasional tourist passing through on the way to the more welcoming, trendy places further up the coast. There was a little public library that shared a building with the town hall, the volunteer fire department, and the small police department. Although at first, people would study her closely when they first saw her, still, no one asked any hard questions she wouldn't have been able to answer openly, and she felt like the community for the most part, accepted her. She supplemented her scanty wardrobe with t-shirts, casual slacks, simple blouses, and a few calf-length skirts that she thought complemented her long legs better than the shorter lengths.
At least once a week, after a library visit, Shari would stop at the general store to talk to Gil and Bess. She felt safe enough to confide a few details about her life before marrying Charles, and the old couple shook their heads in dismay hearing about the foster care system. Once, Bess gave her a thick, hand-knitted sweater, so she could discard her wellworn light jacket, and the unexpected gift brought tears. "I'm sorry, really, I'm not upset or anything. It's just, I've never ... hardly ever had anyone just give me something like this, for no reason. It's so sweet. Are you sure I can't pay you for it?"
"Oh, child, that's the beauty of gifts! I'm not selling you the sweater. I want to give it to you. That color is just perfect for you, I knew the moment I saw it. Use your money on something else."
A swimsuit would have been nice, Shari thought. She had never tried swimming in the ocean before, but it was already early September, and the water, according to Gil, might be too cold for swimming if she wasn't used to it. It would probably be best to wait until summer, despite the singing she heard nearly every afternoon, calling her toward the sea until Aneurin's inevitable barking woke her from the trance.
It was after looking at swimsuits that Shari realized she had already been here more than the few weeks she had originally anticipated, and was fully planning on staying even longer. Gareth Maclachlan and his cottage, the friendly village, Gil and Bess, and even the watchful spaniel, had wrapped her in a blanket of peace, pushing the fear of pursuit back into a dark corner of her mind. She felt protected in this community, and she really didn't want to go back to the tense life of running from place to place, always on the edge of terror.
That night, she had her first nightmare since coming to the lighthouse. While she was actively on the run, the bad dreams had been frequent, but they'd stopped once she began working for Gareth. Now, the worst one of all disturbed her sleep.
She curled up against the wall of the restroom in the bus station, hiding, almost afraid to breathe. Charles pushed his way in, forcing her to leave with him, past strangers who either ignored her or shook their heads in disgust. Her husband dragged her back to his house and beat her up again, spewing criticism and disgust, taunting her madly while his mother looked on. Finally, he chained her in the basement like an errant dog.
"I'm only trying to save you from yourself, Shari. You obviously never learned how to be a proper wife. Look at everything I've given you! This house, clothes, quality friends, a decent, civilized lifestyle—do you think you could ever be able to get any of that for yourself?
"You need to learn self-discipline, you stupid bitch! What I'm teaching you about life, about society, about culture, that's worth what little sacrifice I ask of you.
"You should be proud of being my wife, you filthy whore, PROUD! Instead you keep trying to leave, to find someone else to spread your legs for! All I ask is for you to love me, and to follow my lead. Is that really so terrible?" Twice, she had this dream, woke for an instant, and then fell back into slumber. The third time, however, she didn't stir, and the nightmare continued. Now, older memories blended with the new. As her husband's diatribes grew in volume and vile language, Shari's mother sat in a corner, crying and drinking. Her father stood on the stairs, ignoring everything, reading a newspaper, and then he turned around and left, making it clear he would never return, after which her mother started moaning about how having a worthless daughter had cost her everything. Neither of them did anything to help her.
Then Aunt Frances entered the dreamworld, walking up to her and lecturing in her sweet, condescending tones about how Charles was such a fine husband, with his education and breeding, and his money; Shari should just give him what he needed and be happy about it, and they'd all be better off. Didn't she realize Charles had paid off the family bills? Finally, Shari wrenched herself awake. She sat up, sobbing into the sleeves of the long, soft flannel nightgown from the general store, feeling very alone.
But she wasn't alone, not anymore. The door to her room was ever so slightly warped by the sea air, and didn't always latch firmly. As Shari cried, Aneurin pushed the door open and came over to the bed, whining quietly at her distress. He rose up with his forepaws on the bed, trying to reach her hands with his tongue. Shari scratched behind the dog's ears, forcing back her tears to sooth the spaniel. Gareth appeared in the doorway. "I'm going to have to fix this, or he's going to try sleeping with you," he remarked. As Aneurin lay down on the rug, Gareth asked very gently if Shari needed anything.
Trying to brush everything off, barely realizing what she was doing, she said, half-joking, "A good divorce lawyer, who works for next to nothing and won't let Charles know where I am."
"Charles. The man you're running from," Gareth said. "It wasn't hard to figure out," he added. "Bess said once it was the only thing that ma
de sense."
Shari nodded, her heart pounding from fear. Would he reject her now, knowing that she'd stopped honoring her husband's wishes, knowing that she was a runaway?
"Gil's cousin in the city is a retired civil judge. I'm pretty sure he's still a member of the bar. He might be able to help you. I'll go with you tomorrow, and take you to see him."
"No!" Shari looked at him in horror. "No, don't make me go! It's too soon! Elena said to wait at least 6 months. I can't let him find me. Please, I can't!"
Gareth sat down on the edge of the bed, wrapping her in his arms and letting her cry against his shoulder. "Shhh, it's okay, we can talk about it later. I won't force you to go." He was rocking her like she was a child afraid of the dark, and Shari leaned into him. Gradually, she could feel the tension loosen its grip, and her tears began to dry. Gareth brushed her hair back, and his touch left a warm tingle. It all felt so good, a natural continuation of their comfortable evenings together. He smiled at her, let his lips touch her forehead, and she was no longer a child but a grown woman in the arms of a man she found very, very attractive. She needed this so much! Her lips met his, and heat spread rapidly throughout her body. She could tell that a similar heat was building up in him, as his arms tightened about her. Even better than in her fantasies, the kiss deepened, their mouths opened and their tongues sought each other's touch.
At last the kiss ended, and his embrace loosened, just a little. Their eyes met hers both afraid and eager, and his inquiring. Both expressions spoke of their physical desperation. "Shari?" he whispered. Could this be? Did he really want her, desire her? "Please!" she said urgently. They stood up, only briefly, helping each other remove unwanted nightclothes, and then they were back on the bed and in each other's arms. Shari didn't know exactly how she should respond. Charles had been her first—and only—lover; this felt so different from what she had endured under his demands. Now, though, there was a strong need inside her that pushed the anxiety aside, and she let her body's long-suppressed instincts direct her actions. It was all so incredibly beautiful, his gentle strong active hands tracing magic across her skin, followed shortly by his tongue. She opened her legs to his body's urgent commands, and then he tasted her. Her hands found their own magic path, first across his back and into his thick black hair, and then, as he moved forward again, her hands went around his waist and his lower back, trying to pull him even closer to her.
His mouth and fingers found her breasts, the nipples threatening to burst out of the skin even as his teeth nibbled ever so gently, teasing her. Shari's head first bent backwards, and then she leaned forward instead, burying her face in his hair. There was a sweet surprising smell of ocean breeze, a blanket of saltwater sweeping over them but feeling more like a sanctuary than something threatening to take away her ability to breathe. His skin, when she found herself licking his shoulder, tasted of salt as well, and for some reason, Shari started to laugh, a sound of freedom and joy. Her legs opened even wider, and then her feet tried to come together again, pressing her legs around his body as he entered her.
"Yes! Right now," she moaned, and then her mouth found his. His rhythm intensified, deepened, and they were completely together, breathing and moving and feeling as one being, in a way Shari had never experienced. Even their final cries were joined, a mutual sound like the wonderful, mysterious music she heard from the ocean, every afternoon while he was taking his walk.
He withdrew from her slowly, carefully, and then they both fell back to the bed, on their sides, facing each other. His fingers traced her features, while hers caressed the hair on his chest, as their breathing gradually returned to normal. There were a few tears on Shari's face, and he wiped them clear with his hand. "Did I hurt you?"
She shook her head. "Was it ... was I?"
"You are beautiful!" Suddenly, there was a disturbance on the bed, and they realized that Aneurin had jumped up. He sniffed at them both, and then, as Gareth was about to order him off, he left of his own accord. They both laughed.
"I wonder who he thought needed protection," Gareth said.
"Not a difficult question," Shari said, with a trace of bitterness and resignation.
"Hush, enough about that for tonight, you're safe here now, let's just get some sleep and we'll talk about it more in the morning."
Shari opened her mouth as though to argue, but his lips met hers instead, and the kiss effectively ended the debate before it began. She sank back against him, feeling the safety of his embrace even as he scrambled a bit to pull the covers over them. They both settled down to sleep, free of nightmares.
In the morning, it was Aneurin who woke them up, crying a bit as he licked Gareth's face. "He needs to go out," he mumbled as he sat up, swinging his legs over the side and reaching down for his robe. "Sorry, but I have to take care of him."
Shari lay curled up in bed for a few minutes, listening to Gareth let the dog out. Then she sat up herself, and was pulling her robe around her shoulders as he came back into the room. He sat down, putting his arm around her. "Well, I guess we're awake. Why don't I make breakfast? You can take a shower and join me."
She nodded, closing her eyes as he left again, taking a deep breath and trying to organize her thoughts. It had been a beautiful experience, and she couldn't really regret it, but what was going to happen now? Was this just a fluke, a moment of pity turned to lust? What did he expect of her now, what would he want? How was she supposed to act?
Moving very slowly, she went into the bathroom and took her shower. The feel of water against her body restored some of her equilibrium, when she emerged into the bedroom; she was able to respond easily to Gareth calling her for breakfast. Asking him to wait just a minute, she quickly pulled on some clothes, raked a comb through her damp hair, and walked into the kitchen.
Gareth was also dressed, although his wet hair hadn't been combed and he needed to shave. He put her plate down, and sat across from her with his own omelet. For a few minutes, they both ate hungrily, without words, but then Shari couldn't delay it any more.
"Gareth, I'm sorry I didn't tell you about, well, that I'm still married," she started. "I needed to wait a while, just to be safe."
"He's that dangerous?" Gareth spoke softly and calmly.
"This is so hard. I... well, I really loved him once. I didn't know. I thought what he did meant he loved me. No one ever cared about what I did before I met him. Dad was always so cold, and finally he just left altogether. Mama dived headfirst into a bottle, and never came out again. I was bounced between foster homes and my Aunt Frances for years. I thought when Charles always wanted to know where I was or what I was doing, it just meant he was interested. I even thought having him choose all my clothes was really sweet. Then, after a while, it just got so stifling, and when I wanted to do things on my own, make my own choices, he got really angry and was mean." Shari had to stop, feeling a tight pain in her chest. What if Gareth couldn't understand? What if he blamed her for everything, thought she should just go on doing as Charles demanded, as Aunt Frances had, the one time Shari asked her for help. Charles paid for everything; didn't that give him the right to set a few rules?
"That's okay, Shari. Breathe deeply, and take your time. Did you ever try to tell the police?"
"Twice, but the first time, well, he really seemed sorry, like he didn't realize he'd actually hurt me and he kept swearing that now he knew, he'd never do it again. I made up some story to explain why I called, that I'd just panicked and Charles didn't really do anything. The next time, I ended up in the emergency room and the doctor there called the police, but my mother-in-law, she told everybody I had problems and would hurt myself to get attention. I was so afraid they'd believe her, since I'd lied before! I slipped out of the hospital and tried to get to a women's shelter, but Charles found me and forced me to go home with him. He said if I didn't cooperate with him, he'd have his doctor swear I was crazy and I would be committed. That was the doctor who told me sex was supposed to hurt, and maybe I should
just try some antidepressants; I figured he'd go along with anything Charles asked him to do."
Shari closed her eyes and took some more deep breaths. The story was almost finished, and Gareth wasn't angry. Maybe he wouldn't blame her! "Then Elena, my mother-inlaw, I always thought she was as bad as he was, she gave me money to get away. She told me to give her half a year, and she would persuade him to divorce me. She wanted grandchildren, you see, and I never even had a false alarm. She wanted to be rid of me, I guess. She said I should just get a travel-pass for the bus, the kind where you don't have to give a specific destination, so I could just keep going. And, here I am. I swear, I'm not making this up, I'm not crazy or anything ..."
"I know that, Shari, I believe you. I guess I understand why you'd want to keep hidden, but really, I think you need to do something more." Gareth spoke very carefully. "Why don't we at least talk to Gil's cousin? He might know more than we do, and he'd be bound by attorney-client privilege." Shari was reluctant, but he was very persuasive. His kind concern gave her enough courage to make the trip into the city to meet Gil's cousin, Colin, that afternoon. Soon, she was discussing filing divorce papers. "It will be complicated, to avoid having to face him in court," the old man explained sternly. "But then, you're not asking for alimony, you didn't take anything of value with you when you left, there are no children, there aren't even any pets involved. So, I think it can be done. You may perhaps have to face him once, when the final documents are signed, but since we'll know in advance, we can have some guards present, and his own attorneys will most likely advise him to stand back at that time." For now, he said, they would work through a larger legal firm, to protect her even more, and they would move very, very slowly.
By the Salt, Salt Sea Page 2
