Pretty Baby

by Pretty Baby (NCP) (lit)

  “Maybe,” was all she said as she paced, a drink in her hand.

  Shadoe followed her with his eyes. He’d never seen her like that. So worldly, so sophisticated. He could tell at a single glance that this wasn’t the same Julita he’d known at the inn. Something had happened to her. He couldn’t deny she was beautiful … her hair, her makeup, the way she carried herself. Coming to a halt in front of him, he saw her look down at him with a hot, moist look of sex he’d never seen in another woman’s eyes. “What the hell has happened to you,” he whispered.

  She gave him a brazen smile. “I’ve been educated, Lieutenant. Educated and initiated into a world of pain and suffering.” She looked down into the dark liquid. “I sometimes think I was better off not knowing a damned thing.” She drank the biting liquor down in one gulp, then winced when it burned her throat.

  Shadoe watched her, amazed. She talked without stumbling, and fear was a thing of the past. Now she faced the world head-on … and dared it to try and hurt her.

  “Julita, alcohol’s not the answer.”

  “Isn’t it?” she asked sarcastically, looking down at the empty glass in her hand. A frown suddenly appeared on her beautiful face. “How do you go back, Lieutenant? Back to ignorant bliss?” Her eyes became cloudy as she looked at something in her mind that he couldn’t see. “It’s no problem going forward. Anyone can learn, become someone else, but how do you go back and get something you’ve lost? A certain innocence … a purity.” She shifted a pair of eyes toward him that reflected pain and sorrow. “The answer?” she said, not really asking a question, then reached for her father’s bourbon and made a big flourish of pouring herself another drink. “You can’t,” she said coldly, looking at the stream of liquid as it flowed from the bottle’s neck and into her glass. “You have to live with it.” Then she lifted the bottle, and they both looked at it. “And this is how.”

  “And what is it you have to live with? You’re rich, beautiful. You could have the world at your feet.”

  She looked toward the balcony and made a flourish with her hand that held the drink, her full, red lips forming a smile without depth. “Apparently I do. All of New York is out there. And I live on the very top floor of an ivory palace my father built for me. No one can touch me.” Tears glinted in her eyes. “He’s here when I wake up, and he’s here--” she paused, a sob catching in her throat, “--he’s here … when I go to bed.”

  The word caught Shadoe’s attention.

  “His tapping cane, his raspy voice, his bourbon breath, and his....” Her eyes shifted, settling on his reclining form, wondering how it would be if he never woke up again. Suddenly she dropped the glass and began crying, burying her face in her hands.

  Shadoe rushed up to wrap her in his arms. “My God, Julita, has he hurt you?”

  “Take your goddamned hands off my daughter!”

  The two of them whirled around, and they both looked at Garret as he pulled himself up off the couch. “Is that what you came here for? To molest my daughter?”

  Julita was stunned by his words. “And how would that be different from you, Papa?”

  “Shut up!” he commanded.

  A heat of anger flooded Shadoe. How could the bastard do it? He had known that Garret was protective of his daughter. Holding her, caressing her, looking at her as if she were made of gold, but he thought it was because it had been so long since he’d seen her. He never suspected this. No wonder Julita was bitter. Suffering first from Lucretia’s obsession, how from her father’s.

  Garret leaned on his cane, looking at Shadoe after so long a time. “I’m surprised you haven’t been around sooner. Why now? Why come looking after all this time?”

  “I did, but a car crash stopped me. I was on my back for several weeks. Concussion, cracked ribs, almost died.”

  The old man gave him a twisted smile, and a scowl. “Too bad you didn’t.”

  “I gave up then, decided to hell with you, but I’ve been....”

  Garret stood looking at Shadoe, waiting for his next words. “You’ve been what? You know, it’s bad form not to finish what you were saying. Is that what they taught you in the police academy?” he asked sarcastically, trying to ridicule Shadoe.

  “Garret, I’m taking her away.”

  His sarcastic leer fell, and one of murder replaced it. “You’re what?”

  “You heard me, old man, I’m taking her away.”

  “And I’ll see you in hell first.”

  “It’s not what you think. I have to take her back to Scarlet Bay. There’s someone there she has to see … someone who wants to see her.”

  “You must be nuts to think I’d let you take her away from here … from me!”

  Still standing within the circle of his arms, Julita spoke up. “I’m going with him,” she rasped, “and you can’t stop me, Papa. I’m nineteen, almost twenty now, and I can do what I want.”

  “But the man doesn’t have a cent,” Garret said, stumbling forward. “He wants your money, Julita. Don’t you see?”

  “Oh? I’m so repulsive no man would want me without my money?”

  “Of course not,” he sputtered. “Julita, don’t....” He’s … hell, you deserve better!”

  “White man speak with forked tongue,” Shadoe said, his voice deep in his chest.

  Garret whirled on Shadoe. “You shut your mouth, you filthy red....”

  “Don’t say it!” Shadoe shouted, a look of war on his face. “Don’t even think it!” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “Look, I don’t want a dime of her money, or yours. I’ve got something to do and I need her with me. After that she can come back here to you and both of you can go to hell for all I care.”

  “And what’s in Scarlet Bay that’s so damned interesting, you bastard, or is this just some pitiful excuse you’re using to get her away from me?”

  “It’s her mother … I’m going to take her to see her mother.”

  Garret’s breath caught in his lungs, a graveyard chill gripping his spine. “Are you crazy? Greta is dead.”

  “I know. And I realize it sounds crazy, but the only way her mother can rest in peace is to see Julita one last time … to know she’s safe.”

  “How do you know it’s Julita she wants to see? Maybe it’s me.”

  Shadoe looked at Garret, thinking over his strange words, and wondering. “Because she … hell … all I know is what she said.” He looked down at Julita, the tone of his voice growing softer. “Will you come with me, Julita? Will you come and meet your mother?”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying, but....” She hesitated. “I’ll come … I’ll do anything to get away from him.” She looked over at her father. “And after that I’m getting my own place, Papa. Away from you. I’m going to live my own life.”

  “I’ll cut you off!” he shouted. “Not a dime will you give to this bastard!”

  “You can’t scare me, Papa. I’ve been through the worst a daughter can go through with her father. I’m leaving now and if we pass on the street, please don’t acknowledge me.” A sob caught in her throat. “I’m … I’m not your daughter anymore.” Her eyes were filled with tears and she looked at him through a teary smudge. “I wanted a father … I wanted you, Papa, but you wanted something I--” she sobbed, emotion crowding her throat, “--I just can’t give.”

  The words she said crushed him just as surely as if a death sentence had been pronounced over him, and he grasped his stomach. “I’ll kill myself, Julita,” he rasped with great effort. “I will, so help me God. I’ll jump….”

  Her voice was low and cold. “Do what you have to do, Papa, but remember one thing. If you do there’ll be no one here to stop you this time.”

  Suddenly all the elegance around him meant nothing. It was so much tinsel and glamour that glittered brightly as it sifted through his fingers. “If you have to go, then go, but do one thing for me.”

  The silence was deafening as they waited for him to continue.

  “Take me
with you,” he pleaded. “If Greta is there, I want to see her.”

  “It’s up to Julita,” Shadoe said.

  “I don’t care,” she hissed with a chill in her voice, “but just stay away from me.”

  They each packed a bag, then went out to Shadoe’s Landcruiser.

  Garret took one look at it and said, “That mountain climber? I wouldn’t be caught dead in that thing. Take my Bentley.” He threw the keys to Shadoe, and they climbed in.

  As a blur of headlights whizzed by them, Garret sat in the back and watched the two people that he knew were still attracted to each other. “I’m watching you,” his steely voice said to Shadoe, “so keep your goddamned eyes on the road.”

  Shadoe was oblivious of the fact that a gun was being pointed toward him, and that the only thing between him and sure death was the plush seat … and Garret’s itchy trigger finger.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  The wild wind roared and shrieked, crashing the savage waves against the bones, then bled back into the ocean. The wind was the breath of the gods, playing through the chanter marks. It played to the sea, and the sea applauded with large fists of crashing foam, spewing as high as the ridge where the spray fell away and scattered over the rocky terrain.

  The giant would walk tonight.

  In the distance the old mansion stood. The sign with the elegant swirl stood swaying in the wind, one leg almost completely broken in two, while the other creaked eerily in the wind. The inn was haunting and dark, no inviting golden glow spilling out onto a perfectly combed lawn. No guests walking along the paths that led to gardens and ponds, and no lovers sitting at the kissing fountain. Now the dark rooms were filled with furniture that had a heavy covering of dust, cobwebs that tangled around the dead leaves of the plants, and a collection of ghosts that refused to leave.

  Stepping away from the shelter of a massive magnolia tree, a dark silhouette began to walk toward the ruins that was once Scarlet Bay Inn. It was her world she was looking at, and no one had a right to take it from her. It was waiting for her. She watched the mansion slowly advance as she walked closer and closer, her bare feet muddy from running through wet grass and puddles. From the moment she had sneaked out of her room and ran barefoot and almost naked through the cold halls of the asylum, she had crawled and scratched her way here. Thrashing through brush, running through grotesque trees that reached up like hands to the cloudy sky, climbing muddy hills, sliding down steep inclines, and hitching when she could. Black clouds roiled behind the mansion. Rain would be coming soon. She must get in before it began.

  She took a single key from her pocket and turned it in the lock. The door creaked as she opened it, the inside black as a cave. She reached to the side and flipped on a switch. Lights from the twin posts that stood on each side of the first step of the staircase burned brightly, but as her eyes followed the steps, the leaning shadows that gathered at the top looked mysterious and dark.

  Deep into the night, after she had fallen asleep, she heard a sound, scuffling feet, murmuring voices. She looked up at the ventilator, knowing it was carrying the sound. Someone was here, she thought, trying not to panic. But who could it be? Oh, God, she thought, they’d come for her. They discovered her missing, and knew she’d come back to the inn. She ran to a window, seeing a car. It was shiny, elegant, the metallic silver color glittering like tiny stars in the heavens. It seemed large to her, the pale color the same as the asylum van. It was them. The burly orderlies who pushed her around, some pushing their ugly faces into hers, enjoying the thrill of terrorizing her. Surely they hadn’t found her here.

  They’ll be coming up, she thought, looking around. She had to hide, but where? She thought of the basement, and cringed. She had to go somewhere. She’d kill herself before she’d go back to that mad house!

  She crept out of the room and made her way down the back stairway, and out the back door. Once outside she ran. Would the outside door to the basement be open? It had to be!

  But it wasn’t.

  She rattled it, pushed, pounded, but it wouldn’t open. She looked around. She was trapped. She could get to the basement by the other door, but it was in the foyer and they’d be there by now. She looked around, out toward the choppy sea. The only other place she could go was to one of the caves, but they were on the other side of the bones. It would mean climbing, getting drenched by the surf ... still there was nothing else she could do. She turned and began to run, her thin garment whipping around her legs. When she reached the jungle of bones, she hesitated, looking at the gigantic freak of nature, then entered hesitantly.

  It was flat at first, the sand deep as she picked her way around the giant skull, thinking of the legend that said the bones were those of a mighty warrior of the past, and that this portion of beach was his grave. She looked up at the moon that was almost completely round and stepped through the shadows the bones cast in the spectral light. She believed none of it, but had heard that the gods of the sun, moon, and wind mourned his death. On the nights of the full moon, its silvery rays spotlighted the giant, causing the sea to turn and pound upon the rocks. Then the wind savagely blew the breath of life back into the giant. When the eerie sound of the chanter marks would begin to play, the surf that was his heartbeat, would pound harder and harder until the bones began to move. Slowly and laboriously at first, clattering together as he walked the beach.

  Stupid legend, she muttered as she climbed, doing battle with the waves that crashed against the rocks until she came out on the other side. Sure the wind whipped, and the surf pounded, but it only meant a storm was heading in from sea. It certainly didn’t mean that a clattering giant would be walking the beach.

  Seeing the first cave, thoughts of the legend left her and she ran in, thankful for the shelter. It seemed dry enough, but it was cold. She cursed, knowing if she had to stay out here any length of time she’d have to somehow sneak back in and steal some matches, candles, and anything else she might need to make this cave habitable. She thought of the bones and how hard it was to get past them. They were easy enough to climb, it was the force of the pounding surf that made it so impossible. She made a mental note to get shoes, it wouldn’t do to cut her feet on the rocks.

  * * * *

  Shadoe led the way up to the portico with Julita and Garret following. Garret passed him the key, but the door gave way before he turned it. “The door was open,” he whispered. “Has anyone been in here since you left?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Feeling suddenly defensive, Shadoe’s hand rested on his gun as he walked in, the flashlight in his hand piercing the darkness. A sudden sound caused them to halt in their tracks.

  “What was that?” Garret rasped.

  “I don’t know. Someone might be in here.”

  They stood still, but no other sound came, so Shadoe said, “Garret, do you have any candles around here?”

  “What the hell do you want with candles?”

  “What the hell do you think? We need light.”

  “Why don’t you use the light switch?” he said, reaching over and flipping a switch.

  “What’re the lights doing on? You’ve been away from this place over a year.”

  “The utilities are automatically drawn out of the account. It helps when you move around a lot. Don’t have to worry about having your utilities turned off while you’re away.” He became irritated with himself. “Why the hell am I explaining anything to you? And why is everyone whispering for God’s sake? I own the place. I have a perfect right to be here.”

  Shadoe looked around, his suspicious eyes digging into every shadow, and behind every piece of furniture. “Everything looks pretty much the same except for a thick layer of dust and dead plants.”

  “All right, so when do we get this little shindig under way?”

  “When the time comes,” Shadoe said irritably.

  “You mean we can’t get this over with tonight?”

  “Hell no!” Shadoe yelled. “We can’t go un
til the time is right.”

  “And how do we know when the time is right?”

  “She calls me. It may be tonight, or it could be a month from now.”

  “What?” Garret barked. “We’ve got to spend a freakin’ month in this dump?”

  “Look, I can’t help it. It’s the way it is.”

  “Why the hell didn’t you say something about this before we left?”

  “Look, nobody forced you to come, old man. You can go back anytime you wish.”

  “I’m not going back without my daughter!”

  Shadoe didn’t say anything. Just stood there while his anger cooled, then looked at Julita. “It’s up to you, Julita. If you want to go back with your father, I can’t stop you.”

  “But if I don’t stay, what will you do?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’ll have to stay. I know it’s hard to believe, but there is a church out there, and a woman who mourns for her baby. If you refuse to see her, someone has to do something to put her at rest.” He cut an angry eye at Garret. “It’s apparent that her husband couldn’t care less if she’s at rest or not.”

  “It’s not me she’s calling,” he growled at Shadoe.

  “She knows you better than I thought,” Shadoe retorted.

  “But you need me, don’t you?” she asked, hoping he’d say yes.

  “I don’t know. I’ve got my camera. I could take a picture of you. Maybe it’s all she’ll need … just get a look at you.”

  She seemed to be thinking. Then she slowly looked up at her father. “I’m staying,” she whispered. “You can do whatever you want. My place is here.”

  “With him you mean? Is that what you’re saying? Julita, don’t be stupid. He’s probably insane on top of everything else.”

  “Papa,” Julita said, sounding completely annoyed, “how can you treat him like that? He saved you from being buried in that basement. You’d still be trapped there if not for him. I haven’t heard you say thank you once.”

  “Julita, please,” Shadoe said.

  “No!” she shouted at him, then turned back to Garret. “I would never have thought it of you, Papa. The way you treat people. The way you treat me. You’re a selfish bastard, Papa. What is it that makes you like this? Your money? You think the laws don’t apply to you. Not even the laws of God.”