She waited patiently in the line waiting to climb aboard one of the shuttles hired to take them all back to the motel. A twinge of envy spiked her heart as she glanced at Desiree, who was laughing and chattering with the other young women as they all rehashed the day’s events. She yearned to join in, but too often her efforts immediately killed a conversation.
Her butt muscles protested as she took her seat and she sagged against the seatback, resting her temple against the window. Hah. Suck it up, girl. This had been a walk in the park compared to the dog-eat-dog world of go-sees and fashion shoots, runway shows and on-location assignments.
Desiree gently squeezed Opal’s wrist to snag her attention. “You all right, sweetie?”
Opal smiled and nodded.
“Tired, huh?”
The high from the show was fast disappearing and the effort it took for Opal to force a simple “Yes” from her mouth left her throat so tight her vocal chords ached and throbbed.
“We’re gonna hit the bar,” Desiree said. “Wind down a bit. Believe me, there’s no point trying to sleep when you’re hyped from a show. You in?”
Opal shook her head. And was casting about for the shortest, easiest explanation when a pretty brunette—from memory her name was Rachel—claimed Desiree’s attention with a shriek.
“OMG,” Rachel said. “Check out the local talent. Yum! I could eat him for breakfast, lunch and dessert.”
There was a flurry of activity as those on Opal’s side of the shuttle dashed from their seats to peer out the driver’s side windows. Opal closed her eyes, shutting out the laughter and increasingly suggestive banter. The last thing she wanted was to goggle at anything remotely male. When it came to men she preferred the small-screen variety. Watch, enjoy, maybe even go so far as to drool a little, then flick a switch to banish them from your life. The real deal tended to complicate your life at best, and at worst haunt your nightmares.
When the group of women exited the shuttle and made a beeline for the motel’s bar, Opal hung back and then took refuge in her room. She flopped on the single bed she’d claimed, and toed off her canvas slip-ons. Wiggling her toes was sheer bliss.
With any luck the girls would make a night of it and wouldn’t be back until late, because she planned on taking a long, hot shower, and being out for the count by the time her roommate got in. Sharing a motel room with anyone—even someone as lovely as Desiree—was kinda like being transported to the eighth level of hell.
She grabbed her cheap mobile from her tote and checked her messages. Nothing. And it was later than she’d thought, dammit. Sera would surely be asleep. Opal bit her lip, trying to banish her disappointment. It would have been the frosting on the cake to tell Sera all about the beautiful clothes and accessories.
She debated using the room’s phone to call home but if Sera was asleep she didn’t want to wake her. Not to mention introducing herself to Liza and showing her around the house and discussing Sera’s routine had been hugely awkward, so attempting a phone conversation with the sulky teen was bound to be ten times worse. God only knew what a confident, uh, outgoing girl like Liza had truly thought about Opal’s speech impediment.
She finally decided she wasn’t going to get any sleep until she’d checked in, and texting the sitter was the best option. Hey Liza. Hope everything’s going OK. Is Sera still awake?
She plucked non-existent lint from the coverlet while she waited for the girl to reply. Like all teens these days, Liza’s mobile was practically grafted to her ear so—
The text alert chirped. Opal peered at the screen. The text read, How the eff shd I know???
Her stomach pitched and rolled. What the hell was that supposed to mean?
What happened? Her fingers trembled as she tapped the question and fought to stay calm. Just teenage histrionics. A misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about.
No reply. God. Is Sera okay???
Blank screen. And, after what seemed like a lifetime, the beep of the text alert sent Opal’s pulse into overdrive.
She snatched a breath and read the text. Dunno how yr kid is coz yr asshole boyfriend kicked me out!!! I shd press charges!!!
Opal had never texted so fast in her life. Liza, what happened? Who’s with Sera???
This time the reply came in seconds. Ask yr effing boyfriend, it said.
Boyfriend….
Opal’s skin prickled hot-cold-hot. No. It couldn’t be him. Why now, after all these years, would he come looking for her?
Unless….
Unless he’d been watching her all this time, waiting for a chance to hurt her again. And the easiest, simplest way to hurt her, was through Sera.
God, no. Please no!
Blind panic consumed her. Logic took a hike and she was catapulted back in time to the bruising pressure of his hand over her mouth, mashing her lips into her teeth until they bled. The suffocating pressure of his body, and the pain, and his hoarse voice telling her over and over to “shut the fuck up just shut the fuck up you little slut shut up and stop whining because I know this is what you wanted and now you’re getting what you wanted so shut the fuck up and if you tell anyone no one will believe you and if you tell anyone I’ll make you sorry you were ever born….”
Chapter Three
The thwack of a slamming door… the relentless pressure of hands gripping her shoulders… words she couldn’t comprehend because inside her head she was howling with fear and pain and despair even though no sound issued from her mouth. She was mute, the words locked up tight. And then a face swam into her field of vision—a face she recognized. A friend.
Desiree’s elegant features had twisted with worry. “What happened, Opal? Talk to me!”
Opal grasped the other woman’s wrists, holding on tight, desperate to anchor herself in the present. She swallowed, tried to speak… couldn’t force a sound past the huge aching knot in her throat.
Desiree plunked onto the mattress beside her and draped an arm over her shoulders. “It’s okay, sweetie. Take your time. Do you want a glass of water?”
She needed to tell Desiree how afraid she was, that she had to leave, get home to Sera, now. But the words were trapped inside her.
Damn him to hell! She hated that he’d done this to her—made her weak, turned her into a frightened victim who’d done exactly what he’d told her to do. She’d shut up, told no one. And she was still shutting up, still unable to speak up when she needed to most. Even now, when Sera’s safety was paramount, and she was so worried her skin was clammy and her heart kicked like it would burst through her ribcage, she was mute.
Despairing, she thrust the mobile phone at Desiree.
Her friend frowned as she read the last text. And then, as Opal watched, inhaling in short, shaky breaths that sounded like sobs, Desiree scrolled back to read the earlier messages. Her eyes widened. “Shit,” she muttered. And then she fixed her gaze on Opal’s face. “Does this mean what I think it means? I’m guessing this ‘asshole’ who pissed off your sitter is your ex. And he’s not someone you want alone with your daughter.”
Opal nodded, sagging with relief. And then fear grabbed her by the throat and shook her hard, and the full-body trembles stole what little control she’d managed to grab on to. Oh God. This was a nightmare. Rick Windsor would have taken one look at Sera and known he was her father. Because Sera, with her thick, wavy red hair and freckles, was his spitting image. And he wouldn’t hesitate to use her to get what he wanted.
Opal had kept tabs on him as much as she was able—the whole know your enemy tactic—and had been hugely relieved when he’d returned to Dallas. He came from an influential, obscenely wealthy family. He’d made powerful friends—the kind who could see to it that Opal never laid eyes on her daughter again. No one would believe her version of events. No one would take her side if she was foolish enough to go public after all this time. If she crossed him, he’d keep his promise to make her sorry she was ever born.
She fumbled in her tote for the credit car
d she kept for emergencies. The cab fare back to Philly would be phenomenal but she couldn’t think about that now. If this didn’t constitute a dire emergency nothing would.
She inhaled, held her breath for a slow count of three, and as she exhaled she forced out a word and prayed Desiree would understand.
“Taxi?” Desiree shook her head. “I’ve got a better idea. Grab your bag. And don’t waste your breath telling me I’m not coming with you, because I’m coming with you.” She grasped Opal’s wrist and tugged her toward the door.
Desiree in action was like watching a force of nature. Three men had joined the group of women at the bar; a promising young upcoming designer, a photographer hired by the organizers, and one of the stylists. Within minutes, all three were clamoring for the privilege of doing Desiree a favor. The chosen one—selected because he’d arrived in his own car—accepted Desiree’s “personal emergency” explanation without demur and handed over his keys.
Opal glanced back as she and Desiree exited the bar, and discovered him staring at Desiree’s butt like it held the answer to all the mysteries of the universe.
“Where’re we headed?” Desiree asked as she peeled out of the motel parking lot.
“M-M-Manayunk.” It came out as a croak. She cleared her throat. “It’s… it’s….”
“In Philly, right? Good friend of mine lives around there. We’ll be there in a couple of hours.” Desiree threw her a mock glare. “And don’t you dare apologize. This is what friends are for, right?”
Opal nodded. Tears stung her eyes but she didn’t turn away and try to hide them. She wanted Desiree to understand how much she appreciated everything Desiree was doing when it would have been so much easier to call Opal a cab and head back to the bar for drinks.
“I get it, sweetie. You don’t have to say anything, okay?”
Opal stubbornly sucked in a deep breath and with a great deal of effort expelled a shaky but audible, “Thanks.”
Desiree reacted to her stubbornness with another mock glare. “Wanna grab my phone from my handbag? It’s got GPS. Unless you feel up to giving me directions? Been a while since I was last out that way.”
Nyuh uh. Directions would be way out of Opal’s league given how stressed she was right now. By time she got the words out of her mouth they’d have passed the exit or turn or whatever. She twisted in her seat to snag the covetable designer tote from the backseat, and fished in its copious depths for Desiree’s mobile—one of the latest smartphones. Complete with cat cover that had pointy feline ears. Cute.
She fiddled with it, feeling clumsy and inept, and finally figured out how to access the GPS app. So far so good. She typed in her street address and waited for the app to do its thing. And when the little red circle blipped on screen, she leaned over to hold the phone in Desiree’s line of sight.
“Thanks. I’m pretty sure I know where we’re going but last thing we need is a wrong turn or taking the long way home. I shouldn’t need it again until we get off the interstate.”
They drove in silence, and although Opal was grateful for the lack of conversation it gave her too much time to think. She pulled out her mobile, stared at it for a long minute, her fingers clutching the casing so tightly her knuckles turned white. She had to know. And if she revealed parts of herself that she always kept private to Desiree then so be it.
She accessed her contacts list, selected Liza’s number, and held the mobile to her ear.
Straight to voicemail. Dammit! Liza was obviously screening her calls.
Opal disconnected and gnawed her lower lip as she stabbed the buttons to phone home. She didn’t want to even think about what she would say if he answered the phone.
There was no answering service so she let it ring. And ring.
Come on, come on. Pick up, Sera! And then, just as she was about to give up, the call connected and a sleepy little voice said, “Hello. This is the Stewart residence. Can I help you?”
Under any other circumstances Opal would have been proud as anything that Sera had answered the phone exactly as she’d been taught, remembering not to give her first name until she identified the caller. Instead, her daughter’s name exploded from her throat. “Sera!”
“Hi, Mommy.” A pause while Sera audibly yawned. “It’s real late.”
Opal glanced over at Desiree, and met bitter-chocolate eyes brimming with sympathy and worry and determination. Even though they’d only been introduced to each other mere hours ago, Opal knew Desiree was someone she could rely on. Someone she could trust. Desiree hadn’t mocked her behind her back, hadn’t pried into her privacy or judged on face value. She’d acted as Opal’s intermediary where possible. She wasn’t fazed by Opal’s stutter—it didn’t appear to matter to her in the slightest. So there was no reason to be embarrassed if her stutter got really bad, which it tended to do at the most inconvenient times. Like now, when the stress had rendered her borderline mute.
Deep breath, Opal. Inhale. Hold. Exhale. You can do this. “G-G-Got a t-t-text from Liza. W-W-Was w-w-worried ’b-b-bout you, b-b-baby girl.”
Desiree nodded encouragingly before turning her full attention to the road again.
“It was Liza did a bad thing, Mommy, not me. Her boyfriend came over and his name is Ryan and he’s real mean.” Sera punctuated this hair-raising explanation with another long, drawn out yawn. “I don’t like him one bit and I told him he should go and Liza got mad at me and made me go to my room. So then my friend Dan made ’em both leave. He was awesome!”
Rick wasn’t there. Thank you, God! She and Sera were still off his radar, still anonymous. Still safe and—
Hang on. Liza had asked her boyfriend over? Opal ground her teeth so hard her jaw throbbed. Just wait ’til she got a hold of that girl. And just wait ’til she told Annie and Conrad what Liza had been up to! Conrad would have a fit. That girl was in big trouble.
Opal flopped against the seatback and contemplated the beige interior of the car. Still, it could have been so much worse. If it had been Rick….
It took a few seconds for what Sera had said to slice through the fog of what-ifs and thank-Gods and truly register in Opal’s brain. She bolted upright in her seat, stomach churning, skin slick with shock. “Sera.” She had to fight to keep her voice calm. “Wh-Wh-Who…. Who’s D-D-D-Dan?”
From the corner of her eye she spotted Desiree slanting her a sharp glance but Opal couldn’t spare Desiree any attention right now. Her focus was on the mobile pressed to her ear as she mentally willed her daughter to tell her what the hell was going on.
“Dan’s my friend,” Sera said. “I wished on the crystal Mr. Stone gave me and Dan came out. He’s really big and muscley, Mommy. He’s really nice, too. But he’s not feeling too good so he’s napping on the couch.”
She could not be hearing this right. “Y-Y-You’re—” She closed her eyes. Concentrate, Opal. Breathe in. Hold. Breathe out. Now, spit it out. “Alone now?”
“No, Mommy,” Sera said. “Weren’t you listening? Dan’s here. He’s my friend. He’d never leave me on my own.”
That wasn’t at all comforting, despite the pleasure she could hear in her daughter’s voice.
“I’m… on m-m-my w-w-way, Sera.” She shot an imploring gaze at Desiree, who promptly planted her foot on the gas pedal.
The car shot forward, shoving Opal hard against the seat. “B-B-Be there in a… in a l-l-little bit. L-L-Listen. I w-w-want you to… to… g-g-go into the b-b-bathroom and l-l-lock the d-d-door.”
“Don’t worry, Mommy. I’m okay, I promise. Dan won’t let anything bad happen to me.” A breathy little giggle sounded down the line. “You should’a seen him punch out Ryan. It was awesome! I gotta go. I don’t want to wake him up ’til he’s feeling better.” And damned if she didn’t disconnect the call, leaving Opal staring mutely, helplessly, at her mobile phone.
She didn’t know which scenario was worse. Either Sera was alone in the house with a stranger, or Sera was alone, period, and this Dan was her imagin
ary friend. Which seemed… highly unlikely, given Liza’s text.
“Gonna clue me in?”
Desiree’s question yanked Opal from the mire of unanswered questions and ghastly scenarios that no mother who’d left a young child with a sitter should have to think about. She’d opened her mouth and snapped it shut again, at a loss where to start, when Desiree said, “Do we need to call the cops?”
Well, duh. It was the most logical thing to do, right? But something prompted Opal to shake her head. Having the cops barge in would be terrifying for a little girl. And Sera hadn’t sounded the slightest bit scared—the complete opposite, in fact. And if “Dan” was real and Sera had been frightened, the minute he’d fallen asleep, Sera was smart enough to have gotten out of the house and run next door to—
Omigod. Opal mentally smacked herself upside the head. Why hadn’t she thought of ringing her neighbor before? She didn’t have a clue whether Peter Stone had a mobile phone but she could ring his landline. She waved a finger at Desiree in a give-me-one-second gesture, and searched her contacts list for her neighbor’s number.
Got it. She held her breath, waiting for the call to connect.
“Peter Stone speaking.”
Thank you, God. “It’s… it’s… O-O-Opal.” She was so strung out it was all she could do to spit out her own name. She’d have been humiliated to her core if she hadn’t been so damn relieved he’d answered the phone at this late hour.
“You sound distressed, my dear. How can I help you?”
“The s-s-sitter. She… she… l-l-left.”
“She left young Sera alone? Abominable! I will insure Sera is supervised until you arrive.” And before she could thank him, or caution him, or ask him to call her back when he’d checked on Sera, he’d disconnected the call.
Opal puffed out a breath. Never mind. She owed her neighbor more than he could ever know. Calling the cops and having to answer the inevitable questions increased the chances someone would recognize her once-famous face. If it got out that Opal Jordan Stewart had once been Jordan Cast, and she was now a single mom, and someone decided they had a newsworthy story on their hands….
Opal's Wish: Book Four of The Crystal Warriors Series Page 4
