The surrealism was too overwhelming.
“Thank you so much.” She looked at Sloan in amazement. He hadn’t let her down yet. She wasn’t sure how to hate a man like that.
~~~
Ruby scanned the ceiling of the counselor’s small office again. It was her fifteenth time circling the room with her gaze.
They were in some kind of silent contest – who would break first and speak?
Jessica Bland was laid-back and didn’t have a desk set up. Instead, she had them sitting on couches resting on the floor. As in they had no legs. The cushions were flat and the arms rose from the ground like sharp walls in a very uncomfortable contemporary style.
The counselor sat on her couch with her legs crossed. She wore no shoes or socks. Brightly painted pink toenails clashed with the orange fluffiness of her twist-style rayon dress. Her hair had gray stripes through a brilliant orangey-red shade that was braided and hanging loose down her back. She was pretty in an unconventional Julia Roberts way.
Ruby wouldn’t tell anyone that the woman intimidated her.
“I have so much on my mind and most importantly I have a lot of ideas that I would love to try to help you succeed.” The woman finally broke the silence. “What is your biggest strength?” She didn’t disappoint Ruby with her new age type of question.
Ruby arched her eyebrow. “My strengths? I don’t... I’m not sure I have any.” She thought hard, staring up at the ceiling, wrinkling her forehead. “I can’t see anything strong about me. That’s another point of frustration for me.” She had a habit of laughing at the end of her statements like the laughter would make anything she said less real, less painful.
Tilting her head, Jessica smiled softly at Ruby. “Everyone has strengths. Strengths are things that are easier for them to do. Everyone has weaknesses as well. Even the most confident appearing person has weaknesses. Our weaknesses are areas where we need to improve. Before you can improve anything or use any of your strengths, you need to identify them first.”
Ruby glanced at her watch and chuckled. “Well, fifteen minutes isn’t enough time to identify anything.” She shifted awkwardly on the flat, hard cushion. Her balance wasn’t as solid as Jessica’s and Ruby almost toppled to the carpet from her position where she perched on the couch.
“I know. Thankfully, you and I will meet again tomorrow... And every day after that until we have this resolved.” She pulled from within the folds of her voluminous skirt a small pink-zippered pencil case. “Here is a kit for you. It might seem sophomoric, but check it out, and see if any of the items or exercises help. Try something tonight and we might have something to talk about tomorrow.”
Tomorrow? Ruby just wanted to find her son. She didn’t like wasting her time, by sitting there with a woman who wasn’t sure what color she was wearing. “Tomorrow?”
The counselor nodded encouragingly. “Yes. Sloan told me we were on an accelerated timeline because you have a special situation he wants immediately resolved. So, you and I will meet daily. Or I won’t approve the PI.” She wrinkled her nose at the distasteful threat. Because that’s what it was. She was seriously blackmailing Ruby into continuing with the counseling sessions.
At least it was so commonly stated, it was something Ruby recognized. Somebody wanted something in exchange for something else. She could do that.
With no other choice laid out in front of her, Ruby nodded. “I guess that sounds good then.”
The counselor grinned. “I’m glad.” She passed the kit across the space between the two couches and waited for Ruby to take it. “I’ll see you tomorrow, first thing in the morning.” Her eyes dimmed and her mouth turned down. “For the record, Sloan doesn’t tell people this, but he’s one of the good guys. He understands the effects of rape on the women and their friends and family.”
“The only way a man understands the situation is if he’s the rapist, unless he was raped himself.” Ruby snapped her comment, but she was curious in spite of herself.
“I’m sure he often wishes that had been the case.” The counselor sighed, and folded her hands in her lap. She pressed her non-glossed lips together.
“Well, what then?” Ruby didn’t want to force the question, but she had to know what was going on.
“I’m only authorized to say the initial part, and I wasn’t even supposed to say that until our fifth or sixth meeting. I just sensed that you might need to hear it earlier than that.” Jessica fluffed the pillow next to her.
So what? Now the counselor was claiming to be an empath?
“If you want to know more, he’s willing to talk about it but he prefers one-on-one for that.” Jessica sent a beatific smile toward Ruby’s general direction.
Something in the way the invitation was delivered; Ruby doubted he’d ever been taken up on the offer. “Does anyone ever ask him?”
“No. Which is too bad, he really has a heartbreaking story.” Bland’s despondency fell even more into a crestfallen state.
A man with heartbreaking story might understand more than Ruby was giving him credit for.
Chapter 8
Sloan
Sloan’s apartment at Parker’s Place had been carefully placed in the far back of the facility behind the janitor’s closet. He didn’t want to add to any of the guests’ discomfort or fear, but he’d given everything up when he’d invested in the nonprofit. Dinner in the kitchen/cafeteria was his dinner. All the meals were that way.
Because he was so particular about his food, he’d hired one of the best chef’s he could find. He also relied on a lot of his friends from business school to help him fund Parker’s Place. He hadn’t even messed with anyone who considered themselves cooks or the common Cookie on most ranches. He’d opted for the chef – the one who was adaptable and trained and could cook anything on demand.
If Sloan could only get the name of his program out there, he’d be able to help more women and families. Maybe, the more he helped, the more forgiveness he’d have for being what he was.
Glancing down at his plate, Sloan offered a sideways smile at the meatloaf and mashed potatoes topped with gravy Bill had made. The chef knew the down home meal was one of Sloan’s favorites. Corn-on-the-cob sparkled under a melting slab of butter. Careful not to trip on the cobbled sidewalk around the pool, Sloan carried his sloshing glass of milk in the other hand with a fork.
The stress of the last few weeks crept up on him. He really just needed a quiet evening to get some work done.
At the far end of the long pool, furthest from the entryway, Ruby had commandeered a chaise lounge and a poolside table. She motioned for him to come toward her when she saw him and called out, “Why don’t you join me.” It wasn’t a question, even though it was phrased as one.
Sloan lifted his chin and grinned. At least she was opening up. She hadn’t even been at the Place that long and already they had clicked. He liked seeing her around the building, asking her questions of whoever was within earshot – usually Thompson – and offering her suggestions to whoever seemed to need them – usually Sloan.
Ruby’s bluntness didn’t come across as brash, just refreshing. Sloan found himself seeking her out. Having her wave him over for dinner was pleasant and more than welcome.
The surface of the water was like glass. He walked by and could see the depth markings magnified beneath the water.
Smiling, he claimed a seat near her and set his drink on the table between them. They were close enough he could reach out and touch her. The table was small and set up more like a side table for drinks or setting a phone on. Sloan picked up his fork and took a bite of the meatloaf. He groaned. “Bill is one of the best cooks I’ve ever hired. I guess he used to work at one of the big ranches as one of their chefs. He said he got sick of working over a fire. He’s been trained in France of all places.”
The smooth texture of the mashed potatoes competed with the silkiness of the gravy and Sloan had to stop himself from shoveling the entire pile into his mouth in front of Ru
by. He wanted her to like him which usually meant he needed to maintain his manners.
“Wow, are you serious? Very talented.” She fell into the comfortable silence filled with eating. One didn’t disrespect a meal like they had by talking through the whole thing. After a while, Ruby looked around at the pool and all the rooms. She pointed her fork at the other doors and swallowed before speaking. “Is anyone else here?”
Sloan drank some of his milk. Hopefully he didn’t have any food on his face as he spoke. He glanced repeatedly at Ruby with her auburn hair tucked into a tight braid and her green eyes framed in thick, black lashes. As far as he was concerned, there was no one else out there. “No, not right now. Unfortunately, there are more assaults out there than we know of. Not very many are reported. The ones that result in pregnancies are usually resolved with abortion.”
He twisted his lips to the side and looked away from her concerned expression. Clearing his throat, he prepared another bite that he didn’t take. “The victims usually try to scrub everything painful from their minds and their lives. They say one in three women is assaulted, but that’s not accurate. It can’t be accurate, because so few are reported because it would be unfathomable to say they know what the real number is.”
Ruby tucked her chin and narrowed her eyes. “Why are you so interested in this? I mean, you really know your stuff about rape. I’m not sure if it’s endearing or unsettling.” She studied him as she cut a chunk of the meatloaf off.
He nodded. Who was she to say he didn’t have a reason to be invested? A lot of men cared about such a delicate cause. Sloan wasn’t sure, if he was ready to discuss his true motivation with her yet. He wiped at his mouth with a napkin. “I understand what it...”
She waved her fork in the air. “Yeah, Bland quoted you today on that. I don’t really want to know your rehearsed explanation.” Her sarcasm was palpable and yet Sloan wasn’t hurt by it.
He didn’t rise to the bait as he took another bite. Maintaining his calm, he replied, “I don’t usually need to go into detail. The usual people who come here don’t really care. We haven’t had that many yet, since we’ve only been open a few months, but of the ones that have come, most just want to use the resources. I don’t blame them. There’s not a lot of support for victims out there.”
Ruby arched her eyebrow. “I’m not usual people. And can you quit calling us victims? It makes me feel like that’s all I am. That moment... that night doesn’t define who I am. I’m no longer a teenage girl stupid enough to leave her drink unattended and to fall for the flattery of an older guy.” She wasn’t rude when she said it, but her passion was strong. Her hair moved as she bobbed her head for emphasis. Eyes downcast on her plate, she hid her shame well.
Sitting up and leaning his elbows on his knees, Sloan offered a slight nod. “My apologies. You’re right. Everyone is unique. Everyone who has been hurt in any way has been injured in their own right. But, if I can ask, what makes you different from them?” He had to draw her out more.
Jessica said Ruby wouldn’t open up, and that she raised her defenses. Bland hadn’t expected Ruby to immediately conjure up deep attachments to other women without work, but the complete lack of vulnerability with Jessica had surprised her. Nothing surprised Bland. Unfortunately, if they were going to accelerate the process, Ruby had to open up about the situation.
The counselor had suggested Sloan give it a try.
Ruby’s bitter laugh surprised Sloan, even without humor the sound was off base. “Please. The difference is I’m not weak. So what, if I was raped? I was a teenager and I couldn’t tell anyone because my mother told me not to. When I found out I was pregnant, I was sent to my aunt’s because my parents didn’t have a lot of money and they couldn’t afford a new baby. And,” She scoffed, poking her fork brutally at the already mangled meatloaf. “Let’s be honest, they didn’t want to deal with me or my problems anymore. My dad pretty much blamed me. He said I must have been asking for it.” Her words trailed off but the unspoken pain lingered on the air. Ruby fell silent, staring down at the water.
The acoustics in the building had never seemed so clear. If Sloan had tossed a pebble into the water, the slight plop would’ve echoed with painful clarity. He didn’t say anything as he sensed Ruby had more to say, more she needed to say.
She looked away from him, laughing as she wiped her cheeks. “I wanted a baby shower with my new friends and hoped my parents would come and see me. Maybe they’d come and share my excitement over their new grandbaby.” Ruby looked down and picked at the edge of her plate. “But my aunt and uncle made me wait until I had the baby. They said I needed to wait to see if I even needed anything. Why would they say that?” She didn’t raise her eyes, but tears sparkled on her long lashes.
Sloan wanted to reach out and hold her, but he hadn’t known her long enough for that connection. He wasn’t even sure it was appropriate with his position in the company and her being a client. With how much he thought of her, he didn’t want to know the exactness of propriety.
She continued speaking, her voice getting hoarser and softer. “I went into labor and I had him. My son. I named him Camden. Camden Darby. Isn’t that cute?” Her pain-filled chuckle took him by surprise as she leaned back to rest her head on the chaise. The dinner plate she’d taken to ignoring rested on her upper thighs. “I’ve never told anyone what his name is. No one ever asked me about him.”
A pleasant warmth filled Sloan’s chest. He still didn’t speak as he watched her, waiting for her to get off her chest what she needed to say.
She stared at the ceiling, her eyes widening with each word. “I only held him for a moment. Then they took the baby away for a routine checkup. Not long after they took him, they told me my son died.” She blinked rapidly as if regretting her tears and she lifted her head to refocus on her plate.
Sloan could almost see her mentally push the images from her mind, the pain from her limbs like a physical object she could control.
He relaxed in the tension. She’d shared a lot. Bland gotten little, whereas Sloan had gotten so much. He wondered how he could push her; help her find what she needed to feel whole again. “Wow, it sounds like they told you everything finally. I’m glad.” Sloan slicked up his potatoes and gravy and corn. He would relish the meatloaf and the special red sauce after the weight of the discussion had lifted.
She would feel better. At least he hoped so.
Ruby shook her head and leaned forward, placing a foot on either side of the lounge. “No, they didn’t tell me anything. I had to discover it all on my own. My uncle died, gosh, a week ago? Anyway I went through his things for my aunt, filing them, and selling things, and throwing stuff out. When I was in his effects, I found this...” She reached into her front pocket and pulled out a small envelope with smudged edges and bent corners. She handed it over reproachfully as if to say look what they hid from me.
Sloan took it carefully.
He opened the envelope and pulled out the repeatedly folded and refolded paperwork. Adoption records with clear dates and business names and even identification numbers. “Why didn’t you tell me you had this?”
She shrugged. “You didn’t ask, if I had anything to help. Plus, I wasn’t sure if you were serious about helping me or if you were only in it for yourself. I didn’t know if I could trust you.” She met his gaze challengingly.
“Well, I hope you feel you can trust me now. I’m very serious about helping you.” His plate was clear and he wanted to avoid the topic she’d asked about. How much would she trust him once she knew what he was? Where he came from? He hadn’t told anyone but Bland his whole story. He wasn’t sure he was ready to have someone as amazing as Ruby know the whole truth.
“Have you been in the pool?” He tried to divert the seriousness of the topic. He recognized the possibility of too much emotional turmoil. His turmoil he wasn’t interested in dealing with. Vulnerability he didn’t want to face.
“No. I can later. Right now, I want to talk
.” Her bluntness was refreshing. She set her plate to the side and leaned on the armrest.
He couldn’t focus on his story. She’d lose any affection for him she might have. Sloan took another bite, feeling awful. He jerked his gaze to hers. “Can I ask why you didn’t abort? A lot of women do in your previous situation.”
Honestly, he’d meant to shock her by his straightforward question. The plan was to shock her away from anything that might point toward him. Instead, Ruby was thoughtful and not aghast. “Yeah, I don’t know. I don’t understand that. But I’m not them. I didn’t have the choice. I might have changed my mind, who knows? But I remember thinking it wasn’t the baby’s fault. Plus, I really wanted my son. From the moment I found out I was pregnant. I knew him... It was like I knew him even when he was inside of me. It’s hard to explain.” She softened her gaze and chewed her lower lip, pulling Sloan’s gaze to their rosebud-colored curves.
Something tugged inside of him. She was gentle and courageous and she wasn’t ashamed of who she was. Sloan liked that, he craved that for himself. “That’s very rare. I guess that does make you unique.” That and her mix of strength and vulnerability. She was young but seemed wise beyond her years. He had to ask. The answer was more important than any other question he could possibly ask. “Are you sure you’ll still want him when you see him?”
Her mouth dropped open in a slight O shape. She spoke concisely chopped words. “Why do you care?”
Sloan couldn’t say anything. She should understand where he’s coming from so he could help develop that trust with her, but he didn’t want her opinion of him to sink. And why wouldn’t it? He was the product of rape... He was the result.
Sitting up further on the seat, she studied him with narrowed eyes. “I’m supposed to trust you but —”
He swallowed, holding up a hand to stop her from leaving or to halt her exasperated fleeing. He just needed a second to breathe. “I actually haven’t talked about in a while. I haven’t actually come out and told anyone since my own sessions with Jessica Bland.” His reality was still so new, it took a while for him to accept and even then, he couldn’t quite fully comprehend what he’d been told.
Forsaken Trails Page 4
