Three Dates (Paths To Love Book 2)

by Grahame Claire

  I obeyed and we ran our fingers back and forth over the records until I decided to stop.

  “Keep your finger right there.”

  I didn’t move as he pried the record out of its place. He looked at it and held it up so I could see.

  “I was hoping for a little Willie Nelson, but I guess James Taylor will do.”

  He slid the vinyl from its cover and dropped the needle on it. Soothing guitar filled the room before James Taylor sang about something in the way she moves.

  Stone dropped into my oversized chair by the window and crooked his finger. He propped his feet up on the ottoman, and I crawled into his lap. His arms circled me, hands coming to rest on my stomach. I covered them with my own and leaned my head against his cheek.

  He drew in a deep breath and released it. “Best I’ve felt all day.”

  “Me too.”

  We sat, just being. One track transitioned to the next.

  “This song would’ve been better if he’d been going to Texas in his mind.”

  I smacked his hand. “You’re obsessed.”

  “I know,” he admitted easily.

  I attempted to relax, but my mind was whirring. All I could picture was myself standing at the base of the tallest mountain, staring up at it. But I realized I wasn’t there alone. Stone was right next to me.

  I shifted off of his lap to the small sliver of cushion beside him. He kept an arm around my shoulders as I twisted. I bent my legs, put my feet on his thigh, and rested my arms on my knees.

  “I—I don’t want to tell you about the past. But I don’t want it to be the barrier that keeps us from being completely together.” I sucked in a deep breath and released it. “If you’re ready to listen, I’m ready to do this once and for all.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Stone

  I gripped the armrest of the chair. I’d asked for this, even though I had an inkling of what had happened to her. Truth be told, I didn’t know if I could handle hearing it. But if we were going forward, I had to be able to. For us. Because if we kept this barrier between us, there would be no way around it. And that wasn’t an option.

  “Let me turn that off.” I started to stand, but she kept her feet planted on my leg.

  “Leave it on.”

  I leaned back in the cushion. She stared out the window, the transformation in her already happening. I could already see and feel her pain.

  I opened my mouth to tell her we didn’t have to do this. We’d figure out another way. But there was no other way. I snapped it shut and waited until she was ready.

  When she spoke, her voice was even, deliberate, devoid of any emotion. I held her foot, desperate for her touch to ground me.

  “Before my mother died, I was Papa’s little girl.” She stopped and glanced out the window. Her throat worked as she swallowed. One sentence, and she was already struggling. She looked at me. “I’m okay.”

  Then she sucked in a breath and continued. “He made us feel as if our family was the most important thing to him. He was busy, though I had no idea until I was older exactly who he was, but he always made time for us. He had an infectious laugh, and he made Mama smile. In his own way, as much as he was capable, he loved her. He did have a temper and would get irritated when we did wrong, but I never doubted he loved us.”

  Her eyes met mine, and anxiety attacked me from all sides as she continued. “When Mama died, he seemed to lose his mind. Her death was a brutal message to him. He blamed himself, and rightly so. He must have known there was a threat, because right before she was taken, Papa became more insistent we stay at the compound. I heard them arguing. Mama was strong-willed and never afraid of him. She told him he couldn’t keep us prisoners, that we had a right to see the world. Until then, it had never occurred to me that we never left our property. We had everything we needed at home.”

  She adjusted, digging her foot into my leg. I gave it a gentle squeeze of encouragement as she wove deeper back in time.

  “There was a market in the town not too far from the compound, where local people brought fruits and vegetables they’d grown, things they’d made, goods to trade. Mama snuck me and my brother out through a hole in the fence on the back boundary.” She covered her mouth with her hand.

  When she removed it and spoke again, her voice wobbled. “They got her while she was buying a jar of honey. No one helped her, no matter how she screamed and fought. My brother and I tried to get to her, but we were too small and outnumbered. The last time I saw her, she looked into my eyes and told me she loved me. She knew she’d made a mistake.” She swallowed hard, blinking rapidly, refusing to let the tears fall. “Sometimes it wakes me up. I can see her eyes so clearly, can hear her telling me she loved me before she disappeared into the back of that car.”

  Her pain was right up front for me to see. My chest ached for the little girl who’d watched her mother be kidnapped. The loss was something she’d never put behind her, and who could have? “They didn’t take my brother and me. Even though I was a drug lord’s daughter, I didn’t know the rules. My brother later told me you weren’t to touch children. Wives were usually off limits too, so I don’t know why they took her, but that doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. She’s gone, and I’ll never have her back.”

  The silence stretched between us, and I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t think of a damn thing that would be appropriate. If I’d seen someone kidnap my mother, and found out later they’d killed her, I couldn’t imagine what kind of person I’d have become.

  “When Mama didn’t come home, I shrank into myself. I didn’t want to talk to anyone, do my schoolwork, play. I missed her terribly. During that time, Papa drank heavily, and after he avenged her death, it got worse.” She paused, took in a sharp breath. I braced myself for the words I knew without a doubt would hurt both of us.

  ”There was a storm one night—lightning so bright it lit up the rooms inside the house, thunder booming so loud it rattled its bones.” She shuddered. “I was scared. The electricity went out, and I searched for my brother. Unfortunately, I found my father. He was soaked with rain, blood all over his hands, his clothes, his face. He was holding a severed hand with a wedding band on it, and he looked absolutely deranged. I was afraid of him for the first time in my life. He shoved that hand in his pocket, grabbed my wrist, and dragged me upstairs to his room. I didn’t understand what was happening, but I knew I was in trouble.” She dropped her forehead to her arms. “I need a minute.”

  “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I rubbed her back because I had to touch her. I was nauseous, certain now that my imagination had not been working overtime. Already, I felt the ugliness and prayed I could erase it for her.

  She sat up, her face red, eyes haunted.

  “The night my father killed my mother’s murderer, he was out of his mind. Even at eleven years old, I saw that. When he took me to his room, he put me on the bed, kept one hand around my arm while he lifted my nightgown and tore my underwear off. I was terrified. I’d never seen that man before, and I didn’t know what he was going to do, only that I needed to get away. He let go of me to undo his pants, and I crawled off the bed, but even drunk, he was too fast and big for me. No matter how I cried and kicked and clawed at him, it wasn’t enough. It seemed to encourage him.”

  Bile rose up my throat. I swallowed it down and fought the urge to stand. I didn’t want to hear the rest, but this was how we moved forward. She’d warned me her past was ugly. Nothing could have prepared me for this.

  “He unfastened his pants and left the rest of his clothes on. I was so small, he easily smothered me while he brutally raped me. I cried the whole time, didn’t understand why he was hurting me. I’ve never experienced pain like that. It lasted for days.”

  I dug my fingers into the arm of the chair and fought being sick. Anger and anguish twisted into one, strangling me.

  “After that, I was terrified to come out of my room, afrai
d he’d do it again. My fears were justified. He continued for three years, but he wasn’t always rough. Sometimes he kept me in his room for days, drunk out of his mind. If he couldn’t perform, he’d touch me. Eventually, I stopped crying, stopped fighting him. He liked it too much when I did that.”

  “Muriella,” I whispered. How could a man do that to his own child? Pure fire and rage like I’d never felt lit up my veins. I wanted to kill him, make him suffer the way he’d made Muriella suffer. And that frightened me. Violence was not my natural tendency. But she deserved peace, and I wanted to bring her justice, if there was such a thing.

  “I never told anyone, but it wouldn’t have done any good if I had. Everyone is afraid of my father. They couldn’t have stopped it. It wasn’t until later I realized how lucky I was I didn’t get my period for the first time until after I got to New York. Otherwise I probably would have been pregnant by my own father,” she said with disgust.

  I couldn’t wait any longer. I pulled her against me and rested my cheek on top of her head. My hold on her was probably too tight, but I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t cried since I was a little boy, but a few tears slipped down my face into her hair. The struggle to maintain composure for her sake was fierce, and my heart literally hurt where it pounded in my chest.

  “Thank you for trusting me,” I finally said, my voice hoarse. “You’re not in this alone, Muriella. Whatever you need, we’ll do it together.”

  Her face twisted between pain and gratitude as she wiped my wet cheeks. “I need you to treat me exactly as you would if this weren’t in my past, even in the moments when it catches up with us.”

  I nodded, still amazed by her strength and glad she was referring to us as a united front. “You…” I pulled her against me and stared into the mocha eyes that held my soul. “I’m in awe of you, the woman you are. The heart that’s bigger than anyone else’s I know. You had me from the first second I saw you, and every single day, I only want more. There isn’t a thing in the world that will ever change that.”

  Her eyes were wary, and instead of looking lighter after sharing her secrets, she appeared more weighted down. That was not okay. If it took all my life, I’d make sure that she knew the past was only a piece of her, and I loved that piece of her, even though I despised she’d ever had to go through such actual hell.

  I brushed her hair back. The horror didn’t define who she was, even though sometimes she thought it did. I swore to myself I’d make certain she realized what a precious gift she was to me. One I would never forsake. Never take for granted. And love always.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Muriella

  I’d never told Vivian or Daniel the specifics of what my father had done to me. I’d never spoken to a therapist. But I’d always been under the impression that releasing the words would somehow unburden me. I’d never really believed that, though, and now I was glad I hadn’t wasted my time and breath.

  Because it hadn’t helped. At all.

  Two days had passed, and I’d hardly thought of anything else. At random times, images I’d blocked for years attacked me. Miss Pennington didn’t bother to hide her annoyance when I had to excuse myself from the room for the third time in one day.

  For the first time I could ever recall, I was relieved the school day was over.

  I collected my tote and stopped by the break room to retrieve my uneaten lunch. The hallway was clear as I made my way toward the front door. I detoured across the courtyard to the sanctuary.

  It was empty and quiet. I lit a candle for Mama and one for Carlos before I moved down the center aisle to the altar.

  My bag slid off my shoulder as I hit my knees.

  “Please help me forget,” I pleaded to the statue of Jesus, who hung on the cross behind the altar. “I don’t want it anymore. I can’t—”

  The tears that clouded my eyes spiked my anger.

  “Telling him was supposed to help. Make us closer. Unblock the path.”

  I pressed my palms into the floor.

  “He’s different toward me now. He doesn’t mean to be, but I see it when he looks at me. I can’t take it back or erase that ugliness from his mind.”

  Nothing. I don’t know what I expected, but I thought I’d feel something or have a revelation.

  “It was a mistake. I’m going to lose him because neither of us can get past it. I was better off before, when I’d accepted I couldn’t have a relationship or the children you know I want.”

  I pushed to my feet. “I’ve asked for too much in my life. I’m grateful for the gifts I’ve been given, but to dangle what I want most right in front of me, only to take it away. It’s just plain cruel.”

  I stormed from the church. My steps faltered when I saw the pickup truck parked at the curb. Stone rounded the front, his face clouded when he looked at me.

  “I just told off God, and I don’t want to say something to you I’ll regret too.” I brushed past him. I could not get in the confines of that truck with the way I felt—like I was about to explode.

  He caught me by the wrist. I froze.

  Glass shattered somewhere close. I abandoned my milk and scurried to the pantry, cowering in the back corner behind a bag of rice.

  Holding my breath, I listened. Silence.

  Uno. Dos. Tres. Cuatro. Cinco. Seis.

  I counted in my head until I reached one thousand. More silence followed once I finished.

  Slowly, I unfolded my arms from around my knees. No one was supposed to be home tonight. That’s why I’d dared to leave my room.

  Before I moved again, I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I could hear like the elephants Mama used to tell me about. The only noise was the sound of my breathing. Maybe it was nothing.

  I crawled through the darkness across the stone floor. The tiles were cool and hard against my hands and knees. I bumped my head on a shelf and winced, not from pain, but because of the booming sound that echoed afterward.

  Remaining still, I counted to thirty in my head. I couldn’t hear any noise outside, so I pressed forward toward the small sliver of light shining under the doorway.

  With a trembling hand, I reached up and wrapped my fingers around the cool metal doorknob. I hesitated. I could stay here, safe for now.

  He’s not here.

  The reminder did nothing to settle my nerves. Even if he wasn’t home tonight, he would return. But I couldn’t sleep without my blanket, and I’d left that in my room.

  Slowly, I turned the knob. The door hinges creaked as I pushed it open. I peered out the crack. The kitchen was empty, my glass of milk sweating on the countertop.

  I’m alone. I’m okay.

  I stepped out of the pantry, carefully closing the door.

  As I turned, vice-like fingers circled my wrist. “You weren’t hiding from Papa, were you, Camila?”

  The signature scent of scotch and cigars filled my nose. Bile rose up my throat, but I swallowed it down and turned to face him.

  His eyes were bloodshot from drink, and there was madness behind his dark pools.

  “No, Papa,” I whispered.

  His fingers tightened; there would be a mark tomorrow, a reminder I didn’t want. “Always mine.”

  “No, no, no.” I shook my head violently. He’d raped me on the kitchen floor and then taken me to his room, where he’d kept me for two days while he drank and continued to defile me.

  Stone dropped my wrist, but my breath was short. I couldn’t get enough air in my lungs. Couldn’t remember where I was.

  When I opened my eyes, I saw I was in front of the church. But inside my mind I was back at the compound, a prisoner in my home. It wasn’t Stone with me, but my father, and I was thirteen again, not sure which emotion was more prominent, rage or fear.

  “Muriella.”

  I heard Stone, saw him standing in front of me, but I was lost in a place of terror, uncertain if I could find my way out.

  “Muriella.” He spoke more forcefully this time, reminding me that I was Muriell
a, not Camila anymore. The strength of my name on his tongue brought me closer to reality. “May I touch you?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head. “No. Please. No.” I didn’t want his touch ruined for me, because at that moment I could only feel my father’s hands.

  “Talk to me. Tell me what’s happening,” he coaxed. He tried to sound calm and under control for my sake, but there was no mistaking the agony in his voice.

  This was exactly what I didn’t want, to cause him any kind of pain. It wasn’t fair to bring my darkness into his life of sunshine, and freedom, and love. Always mine. Always mine. My father’s voice was ringing in my ears. “Never!” I roared. “Never yours! Never! NEVER!”

  Stone remained still, letting my words bounce off of him. “Let it out, Muriella. I’m right here.”

  Somehow he broke through, and I blinked, chest heaving. I wasn’t a little girl anymore. I understood exactly what my father had done to me, how depraved he was. But I couldn’t get free of the fear it could happen again. He thinks you’re dead, I reminded myself. Daniel had gone to great lengths to make certain my father believed that. I’d been safe for over twenty years. Why couldn’t time erase what he’d done to me?

  “May I touch you?” Stone asked again, opening his arms.

  “You’re not him,” I whispered, taking a tentative step toward him.

  “I will never hurt you, Muriella.”

  Not Camila. Camila is gone. I’m Muriella.

  I took another step. “You’re not him,” I repeated, halting just outside his grasp. I gulped lungfuls of air.

  “Breathe, Muriella.” I took the final step, and the second I was close enough, he folded me in his arms. “I’ve got you,” he murmured against my hair, stroking my back.

  My body suddenly felt too heavy for my legs to support, and I collapsed against him, totally relying on his strength. I inhaled his earthy scent, which further grounded me. He smelled like sunshine and outdoors, not scotch and cigars. There was no ill intent here, only love and protection.