“I’ll think about it,” I said as he set me down. I’d never considered cutting my hair short before. I liked it long. It only hung to my bra strap anyway. It’s not like it went clear down my back.
I loved Garen. His drive, his excitement for life was infectious. Being around him, I felt as if the two of us could conquer the world. Nothing would stand in our way. But sometimes his comments hurt, bordering on insults, and made me feel as if I were fourteen and back in Ms. Liddy’s dance class again. She’d insisted that her ballerinas be rail thin, and to please her I starved myself sick. I passed out at school one day and had to be rushed to the hospital where I was given an IV. My dad was livid, forbidding me to dance ever again. My mom, the reasonable one and a dancer herself, suggested I become a vegetarian instead. “She won’t have to starve herself to stay slim. In fact, she’ll be eating healthier than you, dear.” Dad, a junk food junky, could hardly argue the fact.
After I was released, my parents sat me down at the dining room table. “Sweetie, I realize Ms. Liddy is a dictator—” Dad began before Mom nudged him. He looked at her. “Well, she is.” Mom frowned. “Anyway,” he growled, “your health is important to us. We understand that dancing is your life. However, as your parents, we cannot stand by and let you destroy your body by starving it. So if you’re going to continue to dance, we have a couple of conditions.”
“Conditions?” I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms.
“Yes. Besides dance, we’d like you to find another outlet. Your mother ran track in high school, and as you know, it didn’t detract from her dance in any way, it actually helped her increase her stamina.” I nodded carefully. He continued. “It doesn’t have to be track. The high school has an excellent softball team.” My father played ball in college. His not so subtle hint wasn’t missed.
“Or lacrosse is a wonderful sport,” my mother interjected.
“Yes, well, there’s that.” His eyebrows dipped into a vee. “Tess, you need something besides dance. You can take up sewing, for all we care. We just want you to branch out a little. Also, there’ll be no more starving yourself. You can try that wacky vegan stuff if you want,” my mother nudged him again, “but you will eat healthy balanced meals, young lady.”
After looking over my options, I chose lacrosse. But dance was still my first love, much to Garen’s dismay. He’d just have to get used to it if he wanted to be part of my life.
We continued our long distance relationship for two more years until Garen graduated and got a job working for a senator in Texas. “Marry me, Terese. I’m crazy in love with you,” he begged when I flew out to see him the summer after my sophomore year. He’d just turned twenty-three. Right on target for his Life Plan.
“But I’m barely twenty. That’s too young,” I insisted. “What about my degree?”
“You can get your degree in Texas. Dallas has several great schools. It’s not as if SMSU is some Ivy League school, anyway. What does it matter if you finish your degree in Texas?” It wasn’t the first time Garen had implied that my school was second rate and that the education he’d gotten was far superior. I’d learned early on in our relationship that Garen was a school snob. I tried not to let it bother me. I reminded myself he was a driven guy, and there was no such thing as the perfect person. Everyone had faults. And being a school snob was pretty minor when it came to faults. I could live with it.
“Please move out here, Terese. Don’t you love me, or have you found someone else?” His gray eyes narrowed.
“Of course I haven’t found anyone else.” I wrapped my hands up in his shirt and snuggled in close. “You’re awfully cute when you’re jealous.” I smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
Garen pressed me at every turn for the next two weeks. He’d make a great politician someday. My parents were less than thrilled with Garen’s proposal, feeling his tactics were a bit overbearing. They warned me not to take marriage lightly. “It’s not to be hopped in and out of carelessly, Tess,” Dad counseled. In the end, I accepted Garen’s proposal. I loved him, and knew he was everything a girl could want in a husband.
My parents gave me the wedding of my dreams. How they afforded it on my dad’s teaching salary was a mystery to me. I did what I could to help cut corners. I rented a dress instead of buying one, and we held the reception in my best friend Martha’s backyard. Her dad was a lawyer and they had a beautiful home with a gorgeously landscaped yard. My brother Craig and his fiancée Michelle, along with my twin sister Abby, helped me decorate. We hung yards and yards of tulle and twinkling lights. My sister and her eye for decorating convinced me to accent with burlap. When she first described her ideas, I thought she was crazy. “Burlap? Are you sure? It sounds a little Beverly Hillbillies.” I was wrong. It was anything but. When we finished putting everything into place, except the flowers, scheduled for delivery in the morning, I couldn’t believe it. I had the fairytale wedding I’d always dreamt of. And tomorrow I’d marry my prince.
Garen was strangely quiet the entire day, as were his parents. I’d not been around them much, but I could tell they didn’t care for me. During the ceremony, I worried that he’d leave me standing at the altar. We only danced three times, and he picked at his food. The photographer had to fight with him to get pictures. After the reception, he whisked me away to a beautiful resort on the beach. I was both excited and nervous. Garen wanted to wait until we were married to sleep together, and being my first time, I worried I’d disappoint him.
“Garen, this place is perfect. We have an ocean view, and a private hot tub right out the back door,” I said, swallowing the lump in my throat.
“Sure beats the heck out of the country bumpkin wedding reception, doesn’t it?” He carefully hung his tux jacket on a hanger and untied his bowtie.
“Country bumpkin?” I snapped as the anxiety drained from my body, replaced with annoyance. “The reception was beautiful.”
“No, Terese, it wasn’t.” He carefully untied his shoes and placed them in the closet, lining them up perfectly with the jacket. “The flowers were pathetic and half dead. The decorations were cheap and homemade. Seriously, who uses bowls with floating candles, anyway? And burlap? It was an embarrassment. How am I supposed to use the photos when I’m campaigning in a few years? No one will take me seriously. They’ll think I’m some kind of uneducated moron instead of an Ivy League graduate.”
“You’re being mean, Garen. Not everyone has an endless supply of money at their fingertips.” I ripped the veil from my hair and tossed it on the desk in the room.
“Hang that up. Now,” he demanded, pointing at my veil.
“I’ll hang it up when I want.” I folded my arms, fighting to rein in my anger. He was my husband, not my father, and he couldn’t tell me what to do.
Garen lowered his voice. “Hang. Up. The. Veil. Now,” he growled low. For a split second I thought he’d strike me.
I stepped back as he came closer, then quickly chastised myself for overreacting. “I said I’ll hang it up when I’m ready.” My voice quivered just a little, but I stood my ground.
I didn’t see it coming, but I felt the sting against my cheek as he backhanded my face. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shoved me toward the veil, his fingers biting into my skin. I could feel the bruises forming under his grip. He shook me hard, rattling my teeth.
“I said now.”
“Stop it, you’re hurting me!” I pulled free as a tear tumbled down my cheek. He stepped closer to me and I shied back, covering my face. A small scream escaped my throat.
“Terese.” Garen pulled me to his chest and stroked my hair. “Oh, Terese. I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at my cheek. I saw a spot of blood on it as he drew back. Carefully folding the hankie, he placed it back into his pocket.
“It won’t ever happen again. I swear,” he promised. “It just made me crazy when you spoke to me so rudely. I have to remember we come from different backgrounds.”
“Different backgrounds?” I leaned back. “If you’re implying that since you come from money it is okay to hit me, you’re sadly mistaken. It won’t happen again. I won’t put up with abuse. Understood?”
“Yes, completely,” he said with contrition. He moved back and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Terese. It’s been a long day. I took my disappointment over the simple reception out on you. That was unfair. It won’t happen again.” He sat on the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. “I’ve never hit anyone before. I don’t know what happened. I’m so ashamed.”
He looked up at me; tears rimmed his eyes. “Garen.” I sat next to him and put my arm around his shoulder as my heart softened. “It’s been a long day for both of us. Let’s forget this even happened.” I ran my fingers through his golden blond hair.
“Thank you, Terese. I don’t deserve you.” He kissed my still stinging cheek ever so gently. “I promise, never again.”
I nodded. “It’s in the past. Now, let’s get busy honeymooning.” I smiled seductively, hoping I hadn’t made a big mistake marrying Garen today.
Chapter 3
Tess
Present Day
“Would you mind if I followed you instead?” I asked Lilah as she led us to her car. I waved to Booker—all six-foot, dimpled-grinned, deep-brown eyes of him. He freely offered back his signature part-sexy, part-playful grin. If I was going to fall for a guy ever again, it could easily be him . . . but I had no plans of going down that road. Ever.
“Tess, I noticed when you pulled in that your car doesn’t sound so good. Are you sure you don’t want to ride with us?” Lilah asked as Mags opened the door to the newly waxed orange bug.
“I need to go to Walgreens,” I explained. “It’s over by the restaurant, so if I drive I won’t have to go back and forth.”
“I need to get some things from Walgreens, too. We can stop on the way back,” Maggie offered, adding, “Lilah’s right about your car. It doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s settled then.” Lilah smiled warmly. I knew they were trying to be helpful, but I had to dye my hair again and needed to get some coloring.
“Okay,” I nodded reluctantly. “Let me get my purse.” I grabbed it from the trunk of my car then hurried over to Lilah’s and got in.
Lilah turned a CD on low as we drove to the restaurant. I smiled to myself. Having lost her mother as a child, Lilah found comfort listening to her mother’s much beloved Ricky Martin music. She sang along as Maggie laughed.
“What does Cole think about your love affair with Martin?” she teased.
“No contest: Ricky has my groove, Cole owns my heart and soul.” Lilah turned the volume up and bounced to the beat as she drove.
Over the past two months, Lilah and Maggie had gone out of their way to befriend me. They invited me to do things with them at least once a week. Last week we spent a day at the mall as they shopped for a project they were working on for their new interior design company. We all got facials and manicures, too. It’d been years since I’d pampered myself like that. The last time was right before my junior prom. Another lifetime.
Since escaping from Garen four years ago, I’d cut myself off from everyone. I wanted to stay hidden—to fade into the background. Quite a metamorphosis from my high school days. Between lacrosse and my ballet performances, I’d been constantly front and center. Now I was happiest in the shadows, unnoticed. Or so I thought, until the past two months. Between these two and Booker, I realized just how lonely my life had become. Miserable, hiding and shrinking from everyone and everything. I needed my life back, to push past the apprehension that Garen might find me. The fear still haunted my days and nights.
We entered the parking lot of Veggies, a new vegetarian restaurant in town, and parked the car. “I heard this place is good,” Maggie said as we walked toward the all-glass building. “It’s only been open for a month but you already need a reservation for dinner.”
I glanced at our reflections in the glass and couldn’t help but smile. Lilah, originally from Arizona, wore a thick sweater like me, although hers was a bold burnt orange and mine more of a pale blue, to blend in. Maggie, a Port Fare native and used to the horribly cold weather, dressed only in a t-shirt and jeans. I shivered just looking at her.
“Are you cold?” Maggie asked. “I think Lilah has a sweatshirt of mine you can borrow in her trunk.”
“No, I shivered because I looked at you. Aren’t you freezing?” I asked as we entered the pristine building.
She laughed. “I’m used to this weather. I’m guessing you’re not. Where are you from?”
“California,” I said as the waitress led us to a booth by one of the outside windows. Great. Now I’d really be cold.
“You need to remember, Tess, Port Fare has two seasons: cold and colder,” Lilah insisted dryly. “If you keep that in mind, you’ll be fine.”
“That’s not true,” Maggie pushed her chin up. “We have four. Summer, pre-winter, winter, and post winter. Pre-and post-winters are a hodgepodge of rain, sleet, and snow.”
“And winter is just plain cold and nasty, while summer is hot and sticky,” Lilah said.
“Why stay here if the weather’s so bad?” I wrapped my arms around me against the cold seeping through the window.
“The people. I love the people. They’re warm and friendly, even if the winters aren’t. And that’s a tradeoff I’ll take any day,” Lilah said, checking her phone.
She was right about that. I smiled, looking at my new friends as they scanned the menu. It felt good to have friends again, to be comfortable around people and not cowering all the time. I held tight to the hope of having a normal life once more. If only I could see my family, then life would be perfect. But no, not yet. Someday, I whispered to my aching heart. Someday.
A blue Ford Fusion stopped just outside the window. The driver threw the car in reverse and backed into a parking space way too quickly. Garen drove a blue Fusion. I stretched my neck to check if the license plates were from Texas, but I couldn’t see them from where I sat.
I sunk down in my seat and struggled to get a better look at the driver as I tugged my purse into my lap. I carried a gun everywhere I went now. What I truly needed was a concealed weapon permit, but that meant an investigation into my life, and talking to people from both San Diego and Texas, which meant they’d have to talk to my ex. So that was out of the question.
I squinted at the car. The driver, a male, wore a cap, obscuring his face and hair. Garen never wore a hat, let alone a baseball cap. The driver kept glancing over his shoulder, as if looking for someone.
Overreacting, Tess. Calm down. I’d been doing much better at keeping my fears at bay. I was tired of living in fear. Jumping at every little noise. Cowering in corners. Like when doing yoga, I envisioned my safe place as I struggled to relax only with Maggie and Lilah sitting across from me, I couldn’t very well close my eyes.
I allowed my gaze to drift back to the car. The guy took off his cap and ran his hands through his blond hair. I stiffened.
No. It couldn’t be Garen. It’d been over four years now. Surely, he’d moved on. As I wrung my napkin into a twisted mess, I glanced again at the car in time to see it speed away, a brunette at his side. I almost sighed aloud. The knots in my stomach loosened ever so slightly.
Frustrated that I allowed myself to get worked up over nothing, I tucked the ruined napkin into my purse and picked up the menu, bracing my still shaking hands on the table. Enough, Tess.
“Don’t they have anything with meat?” Maggie asked, flipping the menu over.
“This is a vegetarian restaurant, Mags.”
“Yes, Lilah, but even the Blue Cactus over on Lightbridge Ave sells hamburgers despite the fact that it’s a Mexican restaurant.”
“It seems Veggies is not as considerate of carnivores as the Blue Cactus is of gringos.” Lilah closed her menu.
I set mine down. “We don’t have to eat here. Remember, I’m a lazy vegetari
an, not a vegan, or even a regular vegetarian, for that matter.” Garen hated when I called myself that. “Get a backbone, Terese and commit.” He’d roll his eyes. “You’re a lazy person, is more like it.”
“No. This is good. I need to stretch out of my comfort zone. The tofu Caesar salad looks yummy.” Maggie smiled up at the waitress who’d approached our table.
We all ordered a salad and flavored water, except Lilah—she ordered a Diet Pepsi.
“So, tell us, what’s it like working for Booker?” Lilah asked with an impish grin.
“Great. He’s a wonderful boss. Patient, kind. He has a great work ethic, and he treats his clients well. He’s smart, and funny. He makes me laugh all the time.” I chuckled, remembering a comment he made about his sad little car looking like something not even the cat would drag in. Which reminded me . . . “Maggie, I’ve been meaning to ask you, why do you always call him by cat names?”
“Did you know Gatto means cat in Italian?” I nodded. “Well, when he was in the military and assigned to a mission, he’d have to come up with a code name. He’d choose fierce cats, like jaguar, or cougar, to pay homage to his heritage. His team would pretend to forget his code name and they’d call him things like Garfield, or Sylvester. As you can guess, he didn’t think it was that funny. But I did!” She smiled devilishly. “When Seth told me about it, I felt it my duty to pick up where they’d left off. For kicks, I decided to incorporate any and all cats, whether they be from TV or literature or wherever.”
“I thought of a new one,” Lilah said, her eyes bright and her grin wide. “Grimalkin. He’s the cat in Shakespeare.”
“Good one.” Maggie wrote the name down in her cell. “Which play?”
“Macbeth,” I answered.
“You’re a Shakespeare fan, too?” Lilah asked.
“No. I just remember reading it in high school,” I admitted. “I don’t enjoy his work. His comedies aren’t bad, but his tragedies are too depressing, as are most of his love stories. Like Romeo and Juliet. Why in the world would you kill yourself because the one you loved died? I mean, I’d be devastated, but kill myself? Not happening.”
Unbearable (The Port Fare Series) Page 3
