Toronto Collection Volume 3 (Toronto Series #10-13)

by Heather Wardell

  He wrapped both arms around me, close without being confining, and I felt my throat and the rest of my body relaxing in his embrace.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jake held open the door of the karaoke bar for the group, and everyone passed through thanking him. When I went by, I smiled at him, and he smiled back. We didn't say anything. We didn't need to.

  After holding me for a long lovely time at Union Square, Jake had asked how I wanted to spend the rest of the day until the karaoke night. "If you'd rather be alone, don't feel bad saying so. If not, we can go anywhere you want to go, or you can show me your New York if you want to."

  I liked the way he said "your New York", so I said, "The last one. If you're okay with it."

  His smile told me he was, so we grabbed bagels for lunch from the farmers' market then spent a peaceful hour browsing books at the huge Strand bookstore. Each with a bag stuffed with the ones we hadn't been able to resist buying, we took the subway to Central Park for a brief visit then strolled down Fifth Avenue. We peered into the windows of shops we joked were so out of our price range that we'd get arrested just for entering, and he bought me an infinitely huggable stuffed polar bear at FAO Schwarz when I picked it up and gasped at how cuddly it was.

  Carrying my new friend, I led Jake further down Fifth Avenue and then into the library at Forty-Second Street where I'd loved to sit and read. We walked through its hushed elegant atmosphere, then I bought us each an iced coffee in Bryant Park behind the library and we sat in the sun talking about what we'd seen until I asked him what he thought of when he heard the words "New York".

  "September 11th, I have to admit," he said, "but then the Statue of Liberty and all the huge buildings and the shopping."

  "We've seen buildings and shopping. Do you want to see the Statue? Or at least go by? We could take the ferry to Staten Island."

  "Do you?"

  I nodded. I'd often taken the ferry just to feel the wind in my hair and be able to look back at Manhattan in a different way, and I wanted both of those things now.

  He finished his drink and set his empty cup next to mine. "Lead on."

  I did, and we rode the subway and then the ferry, and Jake's enjoyment of seeing the Statue in 'person' fueled my own.

  Afterwards we were both hungry, so I took him to a little restaurant I loved on Prince Street, where I insisted he order the delicious baked macaroni and cheese. He did, and once he'd tasted it he thanked me so many times for the suggestion I had to beg him to stop.

  The entire time spent with him was magical. We talked constantly, but not about Christophe or Jennifer or anything that would upset either of us, and I did indeed show him 'my New York'. Everywhere we went was, of course, a place I'd been with Christophe, and though memories occasionally overwhelmed me I also felt like I was reclaiming those pieces of land, and pieces of myself as well.

  Jake had helped me see that Christophe still had his hand on my rudder, but I was beginning to feel like I could set sail and chart my own course.

  But that night I proved I wasn't quite ready to start.

  Fred announced he would kick off our karaoke party with Meat Loaf's "Paradise by the Dashboard Lights" and tried to convince me to sing the girl's part with him, but I wouldn't do it. He laughed and said, "You've got too much dignity to lower yourself to my level, I see," and talked Carly into joining him, but it wasn't that.

  It was, of course, Christophe again.

  I had sung in choirs throughout elementary and high school, and I'd loved it. I'd even had a few solos and I'd loved them even more. In university I'd been too busy to join a choir, so when Christophe and his friends turned out to be into karaoke I'd been excited because I'd finally get to sing again.

  I had, too. For one evening.

  His friends had raved about my voice, and at first Christophe had seemed proud. He'd even suggested we sing a duet together, which shocked the others because apparently he always wanted to sing alone. But afterwards a particularly drunk girlfriend of one of his friends had slapped him, too hard, on the back and said, "Alexa's better than you are, bucko," and after that he'd subtly managed to get in the way whenever anyone tried to offer me the microphone.

  I hadn't realized it during that outing, or the next, but when we went the next time I finally caught on and asked him why I couldn't sing. He'd danced around it at first but eventually 'confessed' that several of his friends had said they thought I was showing off and it made them uncomfortable.

  I'd been so in love with him and so trusting of him that I'd believed this immediately and had kept on believing it for years. We'd gone to karaoke probably a hundred times, but I'd never sung a note. He had, and I'd clapped and cheered him on, but I'd been silent.

  At the karaoke night the weekend before the assault, he'd gone off to the bathroom and one of his friends had handed me the microphone. I'd tried to give it back, since that particular friend was the one Christophe had said was the most bothered, but the guy insisted. When I'd awkwardly said, "But don't you feel like I'm showing off or something?" his clear confusion had told me Christophe had been lying, at least about him, and so did Christophe's angry expression when he returned and saw me near the microphone.

  I didn't sing, but Christophe still didn't talk to me the rest of the night, and when we were invited to karaoke the next weekend he told them we had plans. He had certainly had plans.

  Over the years I'd stopped even listening to music around him, lest I start singing and anger him, and it angered me, now, remembering that. It had been such a gradual thing, but he'd manipulated me into giving up something I loved to make him happy.

  When Carly and Fred finished their song and held out their microphones to the group, my hands itched to reach out and take one. But I just couldn't do it.

  Song after song passed me by, and with every song my courage faded even more. If I hadn't been able to do it at the beginning, how would I do it now? After all those refusals it would indeed look like I'd been showing off if I took a microphone and sang, and though I knew Christophe's opinion didn't matter I could almost hear him saying, "Don't brag, Alexa," in the cool voice he used when I disappointed him.

  People kept asking me, of course, and I kept taking a breath to say yes but then saying no as I'd done so many times over the years. Howard wanted a duet with me so asked me more than most of the people, and Fred asked the most. But I refused every time, and eventually, naturally, they stopped asking.

  *****

  Back in my hotel room that night, I lay alone in the silent dark cuddling my lovely soft polar bear, wishing I could cry. My throat was locked tight, so tight it hurt, but I couldn't relax and let the tears come so I couldn't cry.

  I couldn't sing either.

  But I wanted to.

  Christophe had literally stolen my voice from me, and I wanted it back.

  Bad enough what he'd done to my body, the permanent reminders he'd left in my flesh. I couldn't do anything about those. Not easily, anyhow. I'd looked into what I could do to remove or hide the tattoos, and my choices seemed to be two: expensive and painful laser surgery which would fade them but might also cause cancer, or additional tattoos over top which would also be expensive and painful and would only serve to draw more attention to my thighs if I chose to show them in public.

  No, what Christophe had done there had to stay.

  But, by God, what he'd done to my voice and my heart and my soul would be reversed.

  The next time I found myself anywhere near a karaoke microphone I would sing.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Despite the dull grey surroundings as we waited at LaGuardia for our flight to board, I felt brighter and more cheerful than I had in a long time.

  I had sung in the shower that morning. It had been almost impossible at first to make the words come out, and I'd barely been able to whisper, but as I kept trying my voice began to come through for me.

  I'd been singing Misty Will's "Out Loud", which I'd always loved, and
though I didn't remember all the words I felt that the concept of not letting anyone else control my volume made it the right song for my first one in years. I did control my own volume since I didn't know how soundproof the hotel walls were, but I loved singing again.

  I sat beside Howard with his arm around me, feeling more relaxed than I'd ever been in his embrace, with Rhonda on my other side and Carly and Rosanna and Jake facing us, and we all chatted idly until Howard said, "We'll board soon and I want one last bathroom break before the flight. Alexa, can you watch my stuff?"

  Carly and Rosanna and Rhonda got to their feet, and Jake said, "I'll help Alexa keep an eye on everything. You guys'll return the favor after, right?"

  Rhonda promised she would, and they all left, and Jake leaned forward and said, "How're you doing today?"

  I smiled, and he blinked and stared at me.

  My smile faded. "What? Something wrong?"

  He grinned. "Not a damn thing. I just don't think I've ever seen you look that happy."

  Relieved, I grinned back. "Well, I can't remember feeling this happy in recent years, so there you go."

  "There I go indeed. I'm glad to hear it."

  His sincerity made my grin widen. "You should be, a lot of it's because of you. Had a great day yesterday."

  "Me too. I miss that macaroni and cheese already."

  We laughed and I said, "Me too. Trust me." I sobered. "I was scared to come here, but I think it's been good for me. I feel like I've turned a corner."

  He leaned a little more forward. "I'm so glad. You'll get there, Alexa. You'll be okay."

  The confidence in his voice boosted my own. "I think so too."

  We sat smiling at each other for a moment, then I said, "Actually, we'll both be okay. We'll both get there."

  He stared at me then murmured, "Thank you," his voice sounding like a lump of that macaroni was stuck in his throat.

  I didn't respond, because I felt the same way. For the first time, I really recognized that his situation caused him pain too. Yes, Jennifer had been hurt by whatever had happened that night, but Jake had been too, and he had to live with it just as she did.

  I saw Howard returning and said quickly, "We will. Right? Both of us?"

  Jake swallowed hard. "Yes. Definitely. We will."

  We smiled at each other, then Howard dropped down beside me and said, "Your turn to hit the bathroom if you want. I can watch everything."

  Jake and I walked off together, but we didn't speak. There was nothing else that needed to be said.

  Naturally there was a lineup at the women's bathroom, and I made it back just as they called us to board the plane. Howard and I were sitting together, and once we were buckled into our seats he wrapped his arm around me, kissed my temple, and said, "Ready to go home?"

  I nodded. "Ready." I was. New York was no longer my home. Toronto was, and I was ready to go back there. Ready to move on.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Monday at the office was spent getting caught back up on the work we'd all left behind for New York. Other than feeling like I'd never manage to read all the emails and manuscripts the eager writers I'd met had sent me, I had a great day. Howard's arm around me as we walked to lunch didn't make me feel uncomfortable any more, and I loved that. I was, finally, really moving on.

  Tuesday I sat waiting for Mike, who'd called to say his landlord had arrived unexpectedly and he'd be late as a result, and idly taking care of my personal email since I didn't want to start reading a manuscript with Mike arriving at any moment.

  Dear Alexa,

  Just checking in to see how you're doing. You haven't answered my last few emails, and I hope that means you're thinking hard about my suggestion. I truly believe you should work with me to get your story out there. You know my past, and you know how important it is to me to get your book written properly, and so you also know you can trust me to do the best job I possibly can.

  Hoping to hear from you soon,

  Lance

  I deleted this message, just as I had the others, then leaned back in my chair and sighed.

  "You okay?" Howard called over to me.

  "Yup, sorry. Just waiting for Mike."

  "If you'd rather not work with him, let me know."

  I shook my head, touched he was asking but also slightly annoyed since I'd repeatedly given him the same answer I was about to give now. "I'm fine. More than fine."

  He winked at me. "Yes, you certainly are."

  My cheeks warmed, and I rolled my eyes and said, "Get back to work."

  He laughed, and Rosanna giggled.

  The office fell silent again, but my aggravation over Lance's email didn't settle down even though I'd deleted it.

  I glanced at Jake to find him watching me. When our eyes met, he gave me a thumbs-up with his eyebrows raised.

  I nodded, answering his silent question, and he nodded back then returned his attention to his computer.

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then, feeling better, I made myself think about Lance.

  He was not giving up. I'd thought he would, since I wasn't responding, but if anything his emails were becoming more pointed and more insistent.

  Was he right? Would I be better off having my story told?

  It didn't feel right to do it, but Lance was so confident that I was beginning to feel myself swaying toward his point of view. Maybe it would be good to get the truth, my truth, out there.

  But if I did, I'd have to deal with people's reactions to it. There'd be comments and book reviews and no doubt additional criticism over how I'd handled myself throughout the relationship with Christophe, and I didn't know if I'd be able to cope with all that.

  Neither option seemed quite right, and I decided I'd ask Howard later, and maybe Jake or Rhonda if I got a chance. Then, armed with their opinions, I'd be able to decide for myself.

  The office door burst open, and Mike rushed in. "Sorry, Alexa, sorry. Do you still have time to see me?"

  I smiled at him. "Of course."

  His reddened face filled with what looked like genuine relief. "Thank you so much. I got here as fast as I could." He held up his briefcase. "With all the changes you requested complete."

  "Good stuff." I pushed back my chair. "Let's go check them out."

  We did, and for the next two hours we worked on the tiniest details of some of the darkest scenes of torture in his book.

  I felt more comfortable with him than I ever had before.

  I did still wonder whether I should feel so relaxed sitting next to a man who could invent such things, and I couldn't help thinking that maybe I should try not to feel that way, but I couldn't deny that I did. The darkness of his work itself still bothered me when I let myself visualize the scenes, but otherwise I was all right.

  The New York trip had really changed everything for me.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Wednesday afternoon I was out for coffee with my coworkers when my cell phone rang. Hardly anyone had my Toronto number, and I was sitting with most of the people who did, so the sound startled me.

  I barely had time to say a cautious "hello?" when a voice exploded at me through the earpiece. "He got life, Alexa! Life with no chance of parole." The advocate was so excited I could hardly recognize her.

  I didn't know what to say.

  "Alexa? Did you hear me?"

  "I heard you," I said, feeling like my brain had frozen solid. "Thanks for letting me know."

  She took a deep breath. "I can understand that this isn't easy," she said, "but it is good news. He won't be getting out, and you won't need to worry about him. You'll never see him again."

  "Okay. Thank you for calling. Do I need to do anything?"

  "Just live your life, honey," she said. "That's all."

  We hung up and I put my phone down on the table then sat staring at it.

  A hand took my shoulder and I jumped.

  "Sorry," Howard said, pulling back. "Are you okay?"

  I nodded
.

  "Doesn't look like it," Carly put in.

  Jake, sitting on my other side, cleared his throat. "Is it about the sentencing? I know it was happening soon."

  I looked at him and he gave me a small sad smile as Howard said, "Is it? Why didn't you tell me?"

  I shrugged, feeling so tired. "I figured I'd tell you when I heard what happened."

  "And?"

  I took a deep breath, then another, and was about to speak when Howard said, "Aren't you going to tell us?"

  "I was," I said, and he flushed and said, "Sorry."

  I'd lost my momentum, though. Saying it out loud felt so permanent. I took another breath, running my hand over my newly cut hair which I'd again had done short and spiky because I had realized I loved it and that was all that mattered, then to my surprise looked at Jake and said it to him. "Life in prison."

  Before I could see Jake's reaction, Howard smacked the table, startling my attention back to him. "Good. Let him rot in there. Jerk deserves it."

  Carly and Rosanna chimed in their agreement, and I nodded and tried to look like I agreed.

  I did, of course. The judge had sentenced Christophe to life because the calculated nature of his crimes, and the brutality of what he'd done to me, meant he deserved that level of punishment.

  But still.

  As the others celebrated, my eyes met Jake's again and I saw no happiness or satisfaction there, only a sad acceptance.

  Only Jake seemed to understand why I might not be completely thrilled about my former love being sentenced to life in prison.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Howard insisted on taking me out for dinner to celebrate Christophe's sentencing. I knew I should want to celebrate but though I hated it deep down inside I couldn't help feeling bad for Christophe. But I knew he deserved his punishment, and now that all the legal stuff was over I could really concentrate on moving on. So I pushed aside my worries for Christophe and let the guy who was fast becoming my boyfriend treat me to an amazing dinner.