“Then the clerk pulled out a gun and shot the robbers. One crumpled to the floor in front of me, dead. The other one—the one who shot Ollie, was injured”
I already knew the answer, but I asked her anyway. “Ollie?”
“The clerk called 911 and I tried to help him. But he died before they arrived.”
I shut my eyes at her pain. I could only imagine what she has witnessed. The boy she loved as a brother dying in her arms, one man injured, and another shot dead in front of her.
“There was so much blood.” Her voice shook. “I felt as if I was swimming in it. I kept pressing on his chest to stop it. His last words to me were ‘I’m sorry, princess.’ ”
“Ally—”
She kept speaking, almost as if I wasn’t there. “The police arrived and they got hold of Ronald and my mother. They came to the hospital. Ronald had to ID Ollie’s body, and I told the police what I saw. I heard them say it was a miracle the other bullets from the gun hadn’t hit me. I don’t know how long we were there—I think I was in shock.”
“Of course you were. You had just witnessed two men die.”
She could have been dead, too.
“They took me home, but nobody said anything to me. I was sent to my room and told to clean up.” Her voice dropped. “I had thrown up and had Ollie’s blood all over me, and some from the other man, too. The police took my clothes as evidence, and one of the nurses tried to clean me up, but I was still a mess.”
“Your mother didn’t help you? Didn’t comfort you?”
“No.”
The one word said so much. I reached for her hand, holding it to my face.
“Were you hurt?”
“I had bruises and I was sick and scared, but no, not hurt.”
“You were traumatized, though.”
“I survived, Adam.” She clutched her shirt, whispering.
I frowned at her tone. Her words were saturated in guilt—but why?
“Thank God.” She’d experienced something horrific, and I had the feeling it was something she never talked about. Something she wasn’t allowed to talk about.
“It was my fault.”
I gaped at her. “What? How the fuck can you say that?”
“It was all my fault. I never should have called and asked Ollie to pick me up. I shouldn’t have asked for the ginger ale. He wouldn’t have left the house that night if it wasn’t for me.”
“No, Ally—that is so wrong. You can’t possibly blame yourself for what happened!”
“Ronald told me repeatedly. It was my fault. Because of me, his son was dead. My mother agreed with him.”
“He was wrong,” I insisted, tamping down my anger at her unfeeling parents. They had heaped this burden on her for all these years? Took a horrible situation and blamed her to the point she accepted that responsibility? It was inconceivable to me.
“It wasn’t your fault. You were a child. You were sick and wanted to go home. The only decent person in this whole scenario was Ollie; he came to get you.”
“And died because of it.”
“You didn’t pull the trigger. There is no fucking way you could have predicted what was going to happen. Nobody could.”
She looked at me, pain flowing from her eyes. “The day of Ollie’s funeral, Ronald told me he wished it had been me.”
Fucking hell. What kind of monster said that to a child? He knew she would carry those cruel words with her the rest of her life.
A thought occurred to me. “Did you have to testify?”
“Yes. I was so scared, but I did it. Because of my age, and the fact the clerk could testify, too, I wasn’t on the stand for long and I was taken home as soon as finished, so I never spoke to anyone else. But Ronald insisted I do it. He didn’t want any chance of him getting off. The shooter swore it was an accident—he was high on drugs and needed money for his next fix.”
I didn’t bother to ask how much support she had received during the trial. I knew I wouldn’t like the answer. “Was he convicted?”
“Yes, he went to jail, but he died there.”
“Ally, you have to know what happened was not your fault. Surely now, after all these years, you realize that.”
Didn’t she?
She shrugged, her voice almost robotic. “That’s not what I’ve been told for fourteen years. My phone call made him leave the house—it was my fault. I asked to stop for the soda. I’ve been trying to atone for fourteen years.”
“You can’t atone for this.”
“Exactly.”
“No. That’s not what I fucking mean. You can’t atone because there is nothing to atone for.” I stared, aghast. “I think you actually believe they’re right.” I leaned close, my voice firm. “They. Are. Wrong.”
“That’s not what I’ve heard all this time, Adam. What I’ve been trying to make up for since the day he died.”
Make up for? Jesus, on some level, she still believed it. She believed she was at fault. How was that possible?
“What do you mean?”
Her voice became bitter. “Ronald had no problem telling me it was my fault. He still reminds me. My selfishness cost him his only child. He said I owed him.”
“And how exactly did he collect on this debt?”
“By controlling my life. The behavior he expected from Ollie was now on me. I had to be perfect. I was only allowed A’s on my report card. There were no parties or dances or going to the movies. He sold the house and we moved into a condo in town and I went to a new school where I didn’t know anyone. My time was spent volunteering at places approved by Ronald. The only after-school activities I could be part of were ones he chose.” Once more her voice became distraught. “Dance, language clubs, tennis—things to help make me better, in his eyes, not that it ever helped. I needed to be more graceful, a better athlete, smarter—” She stopped abruptly, shutting her eyes. Then she sighed. “My weekends were spent studying. If I went out, it was with them. The only people I associated with were those approved by Ronald. And there weren’t many friends. If”—she cleared her throat—“if I ever showed any feelings for someone, Ronald removed that person from my life.” Her tone became wistful. “I tried so hard to be what they wanted—to get them to love me. But I was never enough.”
Her pain was palpable. “You lived a solitary life.”
“Yes. I still do.”
I sat back in surprise. The person she was describing was different from the woman I thought her to be. The caring, lively person I saw at the hospital and last night. It was as if she lived two different lives, trying to please her parents—to have their love. An effort I already knew would never work, yet she couldn’t accept.
“What the hell did your mother think? Didn’t she try to stop this?”
“No. She became even more distant. She told me I was lucky Ronald hadn’t shipped me off to boarding school, or worse, divorced her. She was upset I almost cost her the lavish lifestyle she enjoyed.”
Rage tore through me at the callous indifference she’d experienced. Her parents should have been grateful she hadn’t been taken from them, as well—not punished her for surviving it.
“Tell me you had some counselling.”
“No. Ronald doesn’t believe in talking to strangers.”
Of course not. If she had counseling, she’d know all of this was bullshit, and his true nature would be revealed.
I gazed at her, realizing how much she needed someone in her life to support and care for her. Someone on her side. She needed me. And given my reaction to her company, I needed her. We were meant for each other.
“How did you endure it all? End up where you are today?”
“I had a guardian angel.”
“Sorry?”
She was quiet for a moment, her gaze unfocused as she gathered her thoughts. “An aunt of Ronald’s, Elena; Ollie’s godmother actually. She’s the matriarch of the family, I suppose. One of the most cantankerous, grumpy old women you’d ever want to meet—unles
s you truly knew her. Ollie adored her, and I do, too. She thought Ronald’s behavior was terrible and cruel. She was the only person I could talk to. But she never let him know how she felt, or how fond of me she honestly was. She was the only one who told me what happened wasn’t my fault.”
“But you didn’t believe her?”
She shrugged. “I only saw her on occasion when permitted. I heard it from them every day. Sometimes it easier to believe the bad, you know?”
I wondered if she would ever fully believe the truth.
“Tell me more about Elena.”
“She used to have me come and stay with her—she’d tell them it was so she could be sure to keep an eye on me for their sake.” She smiled fondly at some memory. “I always had such a good time with her. We’d eat junk food, go shopping, watch TV, and talk about Ollie. I loved going there, but I never let them know it. I let them think it was like a punishment to me. She played Ronald so well—she’d say and do things, drop hints and make him think he was making a decision about me, when in fact she’d put the idea in his head.
“I knew I wanted to be a nurse, to help people. As I grew up, I also knew if Ronald realized I wanted something, he’d make sure I didn’t get it. Elena knew how much I wanted to be a nurse, how I longed to get out of that place and be on my own. She, ah, made it her mission to make sure I got both those things.”
“How?”
For the first time since we started talking, a glimmer of mischief appeared in her eyes. “Oh, she’s crafty. One night at dinner, she demanded to know what my plans were for the future, or if I was going to continue to sponge off Ronald. She went on about some gossip she had heard about another family and their daughter—how content she was to do nothing. Ronald hated gossip.”
“ ‘You need to choose a career,’ she’d insisted. ‘Something honorable, like nursing. That’s a good profession.’ ”
Ally smiled. “She told Ronald they needed to discuss it further. So I got what I wanted, thanks to her.”
“I like her.”
“She’d like you, too.”
“Tell me what happened next.”
“Elena told Ronald it would be good for me to learn responsibility, so I moved out of their house and into a small place close to the university. I had to work to pay for expenses.”
My hands tightened in anger. “You had to work and go to school? Your stepfather is a wealthy man!”
“My tuition was paid, as a loan. I wasn’t eligible for a scholarship.” She shook her head and sighed. “I was given an allowance and a place to live, but it wasn’t enough for all my expenses—books, food, and personal needs; the rest I had to cover by working. Ronald felt it would help build character.”
“Selfish, tightfisted bastard,” I hissed. Not only was he cruel, he wanted to control her, and make her miserable.
She shook her head. “No, it was worth it. I liked working and I had some freedom. I came and went as I pleased. I could eat what I wanted and sleep in if I felt like it. I made sure to keep my grades up, attend every social function my parents expected me to, and tell anyone who asked how Ronald was generously paying for my education.”
“So what happened after you graduated?”
She frowned for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip. “Elena insisted they have a graduation party for me. Ronald surprised me with the keys to a condo, close to the hospital. He made a big speech in front of all their friends, about helping me start my life.” She exhaled heavily. “It was all for show—everyone there was part of their circle, and again the gift was only to make him look good. I didn’t want either one. But he had me exactly where he wanted me. I had to repay him for the years at school, and the places I could afford were pretty bad given how expensive Toronto is to live, so I accepted his ‘gift.’ ”
“It’s not a fucking gift. It’s emotional blackmail.”
“I know, but it’s not forever. Another few years, my debt will be paid and I can move on. I’ve managed to carve out my own life in between their demands.”
I shot her a quizzical look.
“I work at a job I love, and I live a quiet life. I attend the functions my parents support, have lunch with my mother, no matter how exhausted I am, and have brunch on Sundays with them at their exclusive club. Everyone sees us, the well-adjusted family, eating together. Ronald the benefactor, who forgave his stepdaughter for her role in the death of his son and has supported all her endeavors.” She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. “I hate that part of my life—the parties and required functions. All the fake people.”
“Why do you still do it? You’re on your own now.”
She pushed her hair back off her shoulder. “Nursing jobs are difficult to find. Full-time ones especially, with all the cutbacks to healthcare here. When I graduated, I could only find part-time shifts. I finally got this position, and even it is only considered permanent part time. There are no benefits, no retirement plan, nothing like that. But I was happy to get it, because it was steady.” She sighed. “Not long after I started, Ronald became a member of the board, and made a large donation to the hospital. He became a benefactor.”
I knew instantly it wasn’t due to his boundless generosity—he was still controlling her life. “So he’s a silent threat?”
She shrugged. “I know he keeps an eye on me. I let him think I dislike the night shift, and I keep a low profile at work and do my job.”
“And you never make friends at work.”
“I keep my relationships private.”
As I suspected, she did that so he wouldn’t try and interfere. If he thought she was happy, he would do something about it. I couldn’t help but practically growl. “He’s a fucking asshole.”
“I know—I keep my eye open for other jobs. I haven’t had any luck yet, but I keep looking.” Then she shrugged. “And as for the other part, I do it because of whatever charity it benefits. Ollie was always huge on giving back—he hated his father’s extravagant way of life. In my own way, I do it to honor Ollie. The rest I do to get along…for now.”
I grabbed the wine and refilled my glass, as I thought about what she had told me, trying not to sound curt when I spoke. “How long do you think you have to atone for something that wasn’t your fault?”
She looked at me, frowning in thought. “I will never atone. My debt will be paid in a few years.”
I shook my head, frustration building. “There is no debt. They’ve drummed this into your head for so long, you really believe it. What you should be doing is telling them to fuck off.”
“You sound like Elena.”
“She sounds like a smart woman.”
“So I do that and what—lose my apartment, risk my job, and have to ask someone else for help? It will be done soon enough and I can move on.”
I shook my head in frustration. I couldn’t understand how she allowed this, but then, I didn’t have years of bullshit drummed into my head. This was Ally’s reality. “You shouldn’t have to be doing any of this.”
She crossed her arms, beginning to look angry. “It’s my life, and my choice. Nothing’s going to change it.”
“I want to help you change it,” I retorted. The protective feeling I had when it came to her was unexpected. The desire to have her in my life was paramount, and I wanted her to feel the same way.
“You can’t. This is how it is for me—at least for now.” She shifted, beginning to push herself out of the chair. “I shouldn’t have come here, and I shouldn’t have burdened you with all this. I’m sorry, Adam. I need to go.”
I tugged her back down. I knew if she walked out my door, it was over before it started. She would overthink and make a decision based on even more guilt instead of going with what she wanted. “No, I don’t want you to.”
“Don’t you get it? I’m still tied to them. Soon I won’t be. I just have to wait and then I can move on, with nothing holding me back.”
I gaped at her. “You can’t put your life—your happines
s—on hold. Jesus, Ally, life moves so fast. You can’t waste it.”
“My mother and Ronald would never approve of you. They would make our lives miserable. I’m not worth that aggravation.”
I snorted. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that.”
“You don’t know how crazy this all is. They constantly push the ‘right’ sort of men my way. Ones they approve of.”
And no doubt, ones that were totally unsuitable to her, I thought in anger, but suited them. It was something else she allowed because she didn’t have the strength to fight them. But I did.
“And I wouldn’t fall into that category? Because I don’t wear a suit and tie and I have tattoos? Because I’m not a member of their ‘exclusive club’?” I huffed in exasperation, knowing my voice was edging toward antagonism.
“Yes.”
“I can hold my own, Ally. I’m not in the same league as your parents, but I assure you my stock portfolio is impressive. I own this building, my bank account is large, and I’m pretty big stuff in my world.”
“You’re missing the point—you’re not part of their world.”
I laughed without humor. I despised elitism. “I’m common, you mean?”
“Worse.” She softened the word with a smile. “You’re a wild card.”
“I am. I like being a wild card.” I ran a finger over her cheek. “I don’t care what they think of me, I care what you think of me. Do you feel the same draw I do?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then don’t shut me out.”
“They’d never allow me to have you, and starting a relationship with you is unfair.”
I leaned forward, rubbing her thighs with my hands. “I’m not fucking asking for their permission.”
She started to speak, but I laid a finger on her lips. I wanted her to give us a chance.
“Don’t brush me aside because of them. If you don’t want this, that’s one thing, but not because of them or anyone else.”
I drew in a deep breath. “I’m not easy to take on. I’m moody, blunt, and demanding.”
“Really.” She held back a grin. “I hadn’t noticed.”
My Image of You Page 5
