The Quest of Perkins Vale

by L. B. Dunbar

  “He punched me in the lower abdomen,” I stated as my voice cracked. I couldn’t say his name. Even if I was pregnant, there was a good chance Jordan had done what he set out to do. He’d tried to take away any future from me.

  “Let’s worry about one thing at a time. Test first.”

  I nodded and a phlebotomist came in to draw blood. As I waited for the test results, Perkins was finally allowed into the room.

  “Hey,” he said, rubbing his hand over his hair.

  “Hey,” my voice sounded rough, cold, even to me.

  He slowly approached the edge of the bed. His eyes avoided mine. My heart couldn’t drop any lower. I hardly felt it beat.

  He reached for my hand and his thumb traced over my thin skin. The warmth of his touch was not lost on me. In the circular motion, around and around, heat radiated dimly over the space he touched. We remained quiet, and just like when we first met, we sat in awkward silence. His eyes reached up to mine and it was my turn to avert his. I nodded once and looked away. Perkins’ head went down and he kissed my hand then kept his lips connected to me. We waited without words.

  The doctor returned after I don’t know how much time passed. I was exhausted, but I was afraid to close my eyes because every time I did, I saw Jordan behind my dark lids. Perkins stood with the doctor’s arrival. He clenched and unclenched his free hand, but continued to grip mine.

  “I just wanted to go over your test results,” she eyed me over the rim of her glasses.

  I looked at her and she continued to stare at me.

  “We should maybe discuss this in private,” she hinted. I squeezed Perkins’ hand as a sign to let go.

  He ran his hand over his shorn hair then huffed as he left the room. The doctor spoke as soon as Perkins was gone.

  “I think we need to reexamine that bruise area.”

  Return to the woods…

  [Perkins]

  When the doctor allowed her release, Hollister was placed in a wheelchair again and wheeled to the curb, where I had already pulled up the truck. I helped her into the passenger seat. My heart was in my feet. I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to do. She held onto me when Jordan was discovered and removed, but she pulled away, almost immediately, after the police allowed us to leave the miserable apartment. It was more than a physical removal. I felt disconnected from her. All I wanted to do was hold her. Keep her safe. Love her. But I suddenly sensed she didn’t want that from me.

  I had already spoken to Marie, who informed me she’d contacted the supervisor of the shelter. Hollister would be allowed some days off and a temp would replace her. We stopped at the shelter first. Hollister walked as if in a trance. This would be another place with negative memories added to the long list for her. As we entered the kitchen I saw her shiver, and then Marie had Hollister in her arms. I left them alone a moment as I entered the dining area to wait. Marie had prepared a suitcase for Hollister. On top was her extra-large army jacket. I picked up both items and returned to the kitchen.

  When Hollister saw the jacket, she reached for it. I don’t think she intended to take it so roughly from me, but she practically ripped it out of my hands. She slipped her arms in it methodically. It’s like she was going through motions without thinking. She wrapped it around herself and held the coat closed. Her arms shielded her as her hands gripped the sides. She looked exactly like the girl I stole the night of the concert: the night of the fateful accident. Had we come full circle? I saw Arturo on the very night that she was stolen again. Was this some kind of sick cycle? With Jordan’s death, I could only hope the cycle would now end.

  She stared at the suitcase in my hand. Her eyes glanced up at Marie.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “Ma cherie, you need a break. You’re approved for some time off. Go with him. Let him take care of you.”

  Hollister continued to stare at Marie. The look in her gray eyes was a storm of confusion ready to downpour at any moment.

  “I need to work. Keep my mind off things,” Hollister responded half-heartedly.

  “You need some rest,” Marie implored.

  Hollister had no fight left in her. Before me stood a woman defeated. A woman quite different from the strong willed girl I’d met months ago. I guided Hollister to the truck again, and she willingly went where I led. I took this as a good sign, a sign that she might still want to be with me. I worried that she might not want my comfort. She might not want me. It wasn’t that I thought she distrusted me. It was just I thought she would need some space. With that in mind I was taking us to the only place I knew that had space. We were headed north again.

  Jon Goneman’s place was similar to my mother’s home. It was humble and removed, but not hidden like Mure Linn’s shack. As Goneman was away for the winter, he told me I could use his place. I worried that it would be difficult for her in the woods, but I also wanted to bring her to a place that had space to roam and was removed from the city. I would have taken her to my home, but I wanted her to have a neutral space for a while.

  As we hit the highway, Hollister rolled her head to look at me.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I want to take you somewhere to get away. It was kind of my home away from home, when I was trapped at my mother’s. We won’t be disturbed, and we can do whatever you’d like. Is…is that okay with you?” I ran a nervous hand over my head and glanced sideways at her as I drove. She didn’t respond, but rolled her head back to stare out the passenger side window.

  I wanted to hold her hand. I wanted to pull over and kiss away her fear. I wanted to hug her, until she relaxed and realized she was safe. But for now, I needed to give her space. We rode in silence and I thought she might have been sleeping when she jolted upright. She looked over at me, her eyes wide. She looked around the interior of the truck and then sat back. Her arms never left her stomach and her knuckles were almost white as they clutched the sides of her coat.

  We arrived four hours later. It was almost noon and we had both been awake since the morning of the day before. I carried our bags into the house. It had a nice cottage feel to it. It was one reason I liked the place. The open layout was similar to my place: kitchen, dining area and living space, but it had a glorious fireplace made of field stone. The stone travelled up to the ceiling, two stories tall. All the window shades were pulled and the space was dark. I walked around to open the curtains, while Hollister stood inside the door. There were only two rooms upstairs with a bath between them.

  “I’m not sure what you’d like to do. I can make you something to eat? Or shower? Sleep?”

  “Shower,” she said, her voice hollow. I pointed to the staircase and followed her slow ascent up the steps. I directed her into the bathroom and started the tub. Testing the water, I set the plug and turned to find her right behind me. My hands fumbled as I reached for her coat. She flinched back and her eyes remained downcast. I pinched my lips and stepped around her, pulling the door closed behind me. As I shut her off from my view, I rested my forehead against it. My heart felt like it was clenched by a vice. Her flinch away from me was the most painful of pinches.

  I lay on my bed in Goneman’s guest room. I’d set her stuff in Jon’s bedroom. Either room only had a double bed, which meant we wouldn’t be able to lie in the same space without touching. She didn’t want to touch me. Rather she didn’t want me to touch her. If I thought I was helpless when I was fourteen and met her at her uncle’s home, I was even more worthless when I found her in the woods at seventeen. But the most desperate I’d ever felt was in the present. I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. I could hear her splash in the tub occasionally. My body was relaxing, but my mind wasn’t shutting down. I shuddered to think what would have happened to her if I hadn’t gotten to her. I’d been too late in the past, but I didn’t want to be too late in the present.

  I sensed her presence before I opened my eyes. Turning my head in her direction, she stood before me in only a towel.
I watched her for the longest time.

  “I need to sleep,” she said quietly. I was about to explain that I set her up in the other room when she approached me. I sat up and she stopped at the edge of the bed.

  “I can’t sleep…alone,” she said softly. Her voice was low, empty, and it pierced my soul that she seemed to be asking to sleep with me. It was the thing I wanted most in this world. I sighed gallons of relief.

  I reached for her. She refused my touch, so I moved over on the bed. I pulled the covers back for her, but remained on top of them. She slipped the towel from her and stood in only dark panties. A growing bruise highlighted her lower stomach. Her eye was swollen and turning blackish-green. Her nose had been broken and it looked larger as well. I was reminded again of last night and the position I found her.

  My body ached for her, but for once it didn’t respond. My heart overruled as it beat in a rhythm to love her. Protect her. She faced away from me as she curled into the bed, but she let me position myself in all the body locks we’d experienced before. Ankles over hers, arm over her waist, her head pressed into my chest. I breathed her in as her breath steadied and she relaxed against me. I would shield her from danger at all costs.

  Returned to the woods continued…

  [Hollister]

  I slept at first from the sheer exhaustion of sleep deprivation. Secondly, I reminded myself I was safe. Images haunted me after hours of true sleep, but each time I woke, I nuzzled into Perkins. There were times I wanted to crawl inside him and bury myself in his warmth. It was a risk to approach him. I was naked both in body and soul, but I could not be alone. My head was taking over and I missed my heart. My heart, which had once belonged to Perkins, I worried he no longer wanted it.

  Did he bring me here to kidnap me? No.

  Did he let me sleep with him? Yes.

  Why did he do these things? Because bottom line; Perkins Vale was a good, kind man. He would do what he thought I needed, but I had talked myself out of him loving me. He hadn’t really touched me other than to hold my hand. He didn’t touch me on our ride here. He held me close, but I sensed it was more from routine than desire. He could hardly look at me. The weight of my past haunted us. He didn’t see me the same as he had a week ago.

  When I finally woke, in what I assumed was early evening, I didn’t find Perkins in the bed. A folded paper told me he’d gone to the store and would be returning soon. I didn’t want to be alone, but alone might have been what I needed. I had to process all that happened. I had to come to terms with Jordan’s death. While I accepted he was dead, the truth of that permanent possibility had not sunk in. I would never see him again. He would never threaten me again. Honestly the damage was already done.

  I thought of poor Martha, a lost soul who fell into the trap of a bad man. She must have felt desired by him, but confused his assault with affection. She had the bruises, just like me, to prove Jordan’s violent attempt at love. I had no idea what he could have possibly promised her. The betrayal to her heart had to have become clear when he planned for Martha to witness him taking me. His warped mind believed he could still obtain from me the one thing he wanted most, a child. Lineage. Something Martha had to have realized he wasn’t ever going to get through her. She was collateral damage in the wake of Jordan Waters. As was I. As was Perkins Vale.

  I dressed in sweats and a sweatshirt, skipping a bra for a cotton camisole instead. The cottage was cozy. It was like Perkins’ place only stacked with the bedrooms on top, in a loft like setting. I decided he didn’t want to take me to his home, so it wouldn’t be soiled. When I wandered downstairs, he’d built a fire in the one thing distinct from Perkins’ place: a field stone fireplace.

  I found an afghan on the back of the couch and pulled it over me as I sat and stared into the blazing flames. How hot was hell? I wondered. Would Jordan burn for what he did to me? He believed the grace of God was his, but I doubted the gates of heaven were open to an unrepentant man such as him. My mind drifted as I stared at the soothing dance of the yellow-orange flames and let my senses listen only to the crackle of the fire. I nearly jumped out of my skin when the door opened and Perkins stepped inside. Something in my face must have shown my fear.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, approaching me quickly. He dropped the bag of groceries on the couch and left the door open to fill the room with the cold winter air.

  “You scared me is all,” I said blankly.

  He stared at me for a long moment.

  “Are you afraid of me? Do I frighten you?” he asked softly.

  “No.”

  “Do you know, I would never hurt you? I’ll do whatever you wish,” his tone was quiet, nervous and uncertain.

  “I know that,” I said, not sounding reassuring, although I meant it. He looked like he struggled with himself. He leaned forward, then immediately pulled back. He stood quickly when he saw me shiver and returned to close the front door. I might have been oversensitive, but he made a show of locking the door so I could see. He came back to the couch for the grocery bag and moved to the kitchen area.

  I realized that what I thought was evening was really the following morning. We had slept almost a whole day. Perkins turned his iPod to low as he worked in the kitchen to make us breakfast. He brought me a cup of coffee then returned to his cooking. When the bacon and eggs were complete, he served me, as well. He moved his iPod closer to us and turned the volume of the music up. We ate as we listened to a collection of songs that expressed love and pain.

  Out of nowhere I began to sing along to one. The soulful song was strong and the lyrics were meant to be belted out. I, on the other hand, sang them softly. I was watching Perkins’ reflection in the glass cover of the fireplace. He was watching me as I sang. I turned to face him as the beautiful words of Etta James’ “At Last” continued to fall gently from my mouth. Finally, my wait was over. I had him and he had me.

  I stared at his face as I continued and I watched him swallow hard as I tried to emphasize the words to him. He focused on my lips and licked his own. My voice grew stronger, as did Etta James’, while she sang to her love. At last. That was how I felt, but I had one more thing to tell Perkins.

  The song came to a crushing end and he leaned toward me. My eyes were fascinated by his lips surrounded by two day scruff. He needed to be trimmed again, and I remembered shaving him when he was hurt. By Jordan. I didn’t want any more memories of Jordan. I only wanted to see Perkins.

  “That was beautiful,” he said, breaking my concentration. I moved my gaze to take in his eyes. Dark liquidy brown gleamed back at me. His eyes were melted chocolate. They were safety to me. If he could look at me like he used to, I would feel content.

  “You sing beautifully,” he added. “We should hire you to sing a song for us, on the album.”

  I laughed falsely, and my lip twitched in a crooked smile.

  “Hollister…would you…can I…” He stopped himself, biting his own lips. I sensed his movement before he did it. He reached for the plate from my lap and began to stand. I stopped him with a hand on his arm.

  “Thank you,” I said softly. “I know I must be putting you out, but I appreciate that you’re willing to give me a few days to…” I didn’t know what he was doing. Giving me days to rest? Days to think?

  He sat back down with a thud and set the plates on the floor.

  “You don’t need to thank me,” he said. “I’m not doing anything special.”

  “This was really nice of you. Bringing me here. Making me breakfast. Helping me sleep,” my voice faltered on the final phrase.

  “I want to do whatever you’d like to do. Whatever you need me to do.”

  “What about you?”

  “It isn’t about me, right now, Hollister.”

  The way he said my full name always made my heart skip a beat. The thump inside was like a tiny tap on a kid’s drum. An electric zap. I needed another to revive me.

  “It is about you. You’re taking your time away from the
band. Away from your friends. To be with me,” I sighed.

  “I want to be with you,” he said then bit his lip as if he said too much. He leaned forward to stand again and I reached for his back this time, removing my hand almost as quickly.

  “I…” I didn’t know what to say. I knew what I wanted to say, but I was scared.

  “I can be patient. I’ve proven that. I waited for you, Hollister.”

  He’d said my name again, and the zip of a spark travelled through me. It was lighting a candle only to have the match burn out before the flame caught. He struggled with himself but continued.

  “When I hear you sing like that, I want to swallow those words and send them to my heart. I want to kiss those lips of yours to show you that your voice sings to my soul. I want to return to you the lyrics double time from me. As a drummer, I think in beats, and want to match the rhythm of my heart to yours.”

  I blinked at him. His words took a moment to sink in.

  Did he? He couldn’t possibly? Would he? Could he still love me?

  My internal war was met by the interruption of him standing and taking our plates with him. I watched him walk away from my silence. I watched his back as he placed the dishes in the sink and his shoulder’s slumped. He appeared defeated and I turned away. He returned with a second cup of coffee for each of us.

  “Mind if I just sit here with you? We can talk or listen to music?”

  “Perkins, could I ask one thing of you and then I’ll ask nothing more?”

  He sat close to me. My knees were bent so that my legs were on the couch. He was close enough that his thigh touched the tops of my knees.

  “Anything you want? Ask away?”

  “Could you kiss me?”

  The look on his face was priceless as he turned to me.

  “Hollister, are you sure you want this?”

  I nodded. The sound of my name lit the flame. The match took and a slow fire burned. I needed to connect with him. If he didn’t want to kiss me, I would understand, and I would have to move on from him as well. But I had to know. I had to…