Tears trickled down the sides of his face. “Oh, baby, I’m sorry.”
“It took me months to understand what had happened—that I was pregnant. That’s when I told my mother the partial truth about what had happened. She’d made me go to the police, but they had no leads since I’d lied, and the man I’d described didn’t exist. Honestly, I think they thought I was lying about the rape to make an excuse for the pregnancy. It didn’t matter by then. My mom helped me get through it. She was by my side the entire time. When it was over, we sold the house in Wisconsin and came to Los Angeles. She wanted me to have a fresh start. I took an acting class, and I figured out that escaping into someone else’s skin was the only way to bear the pain of what had happened. I’ve been using it ever since.”
“What made you decide to have the baby?” he asked gently.
“I was four months along before I realized I was pregnant. That’s about the time most women feel the baby’s first movements. That’s what happened to me. I felt her fluttering inside me, and I knew I could never make the choice to end her life.”
He wiped under his eyes and took her hand. “You’re a brave girl, Gennie Banks.”
“There’s not a day I haven’t thought of her. I’ve been curious, of course, about how she turned out, what she looks like. But, given everything, I’ve always felt it was best for her if her origin was kept a secret. Now, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want her to suffer.”
“They showed her photograph on television. And they have footage of her going into her apartment. They keep playing it over and over.” He opened his mouth as if to say something further but seemed to think better of it.
“You were going to say she looks like me, weren’t you?” she asked. “Trix already told me.”
He nodded. “From what I can tell, she’s taller than you and athletic rather than slender, but yes, she looks like you.”
“Athletic?”
“She swims for her college team.”
“Does she seem happy? Could you tell? Of course you couldn’t. That’s a ridiculous question.” She cringed at how desperate she sounded.
“They said she was at UCLA on a scholarship and that she’s a good student. She wants to be a teacher.”
“She’s going to be under scrutiny the rest of her life. I hate that. It’s one thing for you and me, but she didn’t ask to be famous.”
“What are you going to do about her request to meet you?”
“Now that she knows who I am, I don’t think I have much choice but to meet her. It would hurt her further if I rejected her. I just can’t tell her the truth about the rape or her father. She must never know how she came to be if she’s to have any semblance of a normal life. I will keep it a secret from her. It’s the only way to protect her.”
“Gennie, can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think it’s cost you to carry around a secret for so long?”
“You mean about Murphy?”
“Yes.”
She played with the sheet, rubbing it between her fingers. “The toll is too high to calculate.” Looking up, she met his gaze. “It’s cost me you.”
“Would it surprise you to know that I understand the toll, that I might even be able to calculate the relationships lost because I’ve calculated my own losses?”
“It would,” she said.
“I have a secret too. As big as yours. Maybe bigger.” His voice broke. He brushed tears from the corners of his eyes. Clearing his throat, he reached for her tea and took a sip. “I think about that question a lot. What’s it cost me to keep a secret this big for so long? Would I be a better man if it had never happened? Would I be a better man if I’d ever told the truth?”
She took his hand. “I don’t know. It depends on the secret, I guess.”
“I’ve never told anyone and didn’t think I ever would. Until I met you. You’re the only person I’ve ever felt I could trust. The only person I thought would understand and not judge me or blame me. I didn’t know why I felt this when you were so obviously unavailable. But now, I know why. We’ve both been to hell and released back into the world with a secret attached to our souls. I saw it in you, without knowing what it was.”
She stared at him. “What’s your hell?”
He took another sip of tea before setting it back on the table. “When I was twelve years old, I killed my father.”
Gennie stifled a gasp. Surely, she had heard him wrong. Her mind tumbled over the possibilities. Was it an accident? Or had it been on purpose?
He continued, staring into his lap while he spoke, “My father was a mean man, especially when he drank. He’d come home drunk from the bars and beat the crap out of my mom at least once a week. My mom made me promise I would never come into their bedroom or the kitchen or any room when they were fighting—she called it fighting, but it wasn’t a fight. It was spousal abuse, plain and simple. When I was small, I obeyed her wishes, but when I was about nine, I started trying to rescue her. He would turn on me. He was big and strong, and I was a kid, so you can imagine how that went.”
Stefan rubbed his chin and looked up at the ceiling. “My best friend’s dad was a gun guy. Most men where I’m from keep guns around for protection and hunting. The summer I turned eleven, I asked him if he’d teach me to shoot. I was good at it. Pretty soon I hit the target easily. My friend’s dad said I was a natural.
“One night, I woke up to the sound of my mom screaming from their bedroom. I’d never heard her scream that way.”
Gennie’s heart beat faster. What was it? What was the bastard doing to her?
“I was terrified. It sounded like she was being cut in half. Without thinking, I was out of bed and kicked open their bedroom door. He was on top of her on the floor, his pants around his ankles. Her nightgown was around her waist. He had his hunting knife in his hand, about to plunge it into her chest. I could see that he’d already done it at least once because there was blood all over her nightgown. It was all clear to me. He’d raped her and then stabbed her.”
How had he known what was happening? He was so young.
“His shotgun was on the nightstand. I grabbed it and unlocked the safety just like I’d been taught, and I aimed it at him.”
“Oh no,” she whispered. Her limbs tingled with fear, knowing what came next. He killed his father. Stefan killed him.
“I knew it was loaded. He always kept it loaded. And I shot him in the head.”
“Oh my God, Stefan.” Her hands flew to her mouth. The poor little boy. Had he seen his father’s brain splattered all over everything? How could Stefan ever recover from that?
“I don’t remember anything after that. The police came and they questioned me, but I can’t recall anything I said. No one locked doors in those parts, so my mother told the police an intruder had come into the house and shot him using my dad’s gun. The police chief and my mom grew up together, and he knew the truth of what was going on in our house. Everyone in town did. Bruises weren’t so easy to disguise, and everyone knew what kind of man he was. If the chief believed her, I don’t know, but the investigation was cut short and nothing ever came of it.”
“Except you’ve lived with the guilt and shame.” Gennie pulled his hand into her lap, stroking his wrist. He’s like me. Tortured with a secret. Full of shame and regret. He understands me.
“The only time I can forget is when I’m acting. Or, lately, when I’m with you.”
Just like me.
“What I saw that night burned into my consciousness in a way I can never escape. The brutality of monsters like my dad and Murphy is unforgivable. I hope they both burn in hell for it.” His eyes shone like a child with a high fever. “So, Gennie, I get it. I get it all. And I’m sorry. My understanding of why you’re the way you are is deeper than you can imagine. I love you. I would always love you, no matter what. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“I think I do. I had no idea what you’ve been throu
gh, or your poor mother. Is she all right?”
“Like you, she will never be the same.”
“As much as she’d like to, she can’t ever be fully whole,” Gennie said. She wants to be, but she can’t. No matter how she tries, she can’t ever forget.
“Right.”
“It’s not like a wound on the outside that will eventually heal.” It’s way down deep where no one can see. The darkness wants to take you down with it. The demons shout to surrender to them. “Do you and your mom ever talk about it?”
“Not really. I think she likes to pretend it never happened. She has a lot of guilt, as you can imagine.”
His mother’s guilt and shame must be unbearable. Gennie had felt shame too. What had I done to make him choose me? “When he was done, he called me a slut and said that I’d provoked him. I was a little girl. I had no idea what it meant to provoke someone.” She squeezed his wrist. “You were a little boy. Your instinct to protect your mother was good, not bad.”
“Then how come I feel like a criminal?”
Her heart twisted, feeling his pain course through her own body. It’s not your fault. It was never your fault. “Because human beings are complicated.” She stared into his eyes. Sensitive eyes. Searching eyes. I want to make his pain go away. Do something. Take his pain away. Say something that will make him better. “You’re not to blame. Not for any of it.”
He caressed the side of her face with his fingertips. “About two years after my father’s death, my mom came home from church on a Sunday morning. I was in the other room when she came in, but I could tell she was angry by the way she stomped around the kitchen and slammed pots and pans. I figured she was mad at me because I wouldn’t get up for church. I didn’t want to, but I went in there and asked her what was wrong. She told me the preacher had given a sermon that morning about thankfulness. He said that if you approach your life from a position of thankfulness, it’s more likely a miracle will come.”
“Why did it make her mad? Did she think it was a lie?”
He nodded. “She said it was all good and well for a person like fat Preacher Robinson to talk about miracles with his perfect wife and perfect daughters sitting in the front pew, but where was our miracle? We’d been given nothing but hard times, she said. Nothing but hard men who hurt us. She sat down at the kitchen table and cried. I stood there, just watching her, wishing I were dead. Finally, she looked up at me and said, ‘Why has God forsaken us?’”
Why indeed? Where were you, God? Then and that day in Murphy’s office?
“It ripped at my heart to see how broken she was. I vowed in that moment to never let her feel forsaken by God or me ever again. That desire has driven every moment of my life since. It drove me during the early years when I could barely pay my rent. I worked harder than anyone in class, on my body, on my craft, all so I could give her a few miracles. After I had made it, I bought her the house she’d always wanted and a fancy car and a full-time housekeeper. Anything she wants, I give her. I take her places she could only dream of when I was young. The drive I have? It’s all for her.”
“Has it changed her? Does she believe in miracles now?”
“Maybe. I don’t know. She’s like you. There’s a sadness in her eyes that I can’t seem to remedy.”
She’s sad, like me.
“But I am thankful, every day, for everything. I’m thankful I’m the guy who gets to be here for you.”
“Oh, Stefan. I’m glad it’s you. It couldn’t be anyone else.” Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. I don’t deserve you, but I am so thankful. “I do believe in miracles, Stefan. In spite of everything.”
“Tell me why,” he said, gently.
“That night, afterward, when I was blindfolded and tied, he shoved me into his car and we drove for what seemed like hours.” She stopped, suddenly remembering a detail she’d forgotten. “He played the radio. Pop songs. Loud, like a teenager. I’d forgotten that part.”
Stefan took her hand. “No wonder you hate nineties music.”
“He dumped me on the side of the road. I had no idea where I was. It had snowed at least a foot that afternoon and was so dark I couldn’t see my hand in front of me. No stars. No moon. I thought I’d die out there, alone. Then, three things happened. Three miracles. I remembered I had a flashlight in my coat pocket. My father had given it to me the Christmas before he died. I shone it all around me, and I saw a scarecrow across the street. I knew where I was; my house was just up the road. My best friend and I passed that scarecrow on the way home every day.”
His gaze remained steady. “What was the third miracle?”
“I heard this rustling in the woods. It was an elk with enormous antlers. He just stood there, looking at me. I called out to him—asked him what to do. That’s when I heard the voice of my father in my head. He said to follow the light home. Which I did.”
“That’s incredible, Gennie.”
“It was my father. I’m sure of it. God sent him to me.”
“Have you ever seen the elk again?” he asked.
“No. Not since that night. But I feel him with me sometimes. This sense of peace washes over me, and I know he’s there, not far away, and someday I’ll see him again.” She smiled. “In human form.”
“That feeling of peace? I feel that way every time I’m with you. Like you’re where I belong.”
Last night, when you left, the pain was so bad I thought I was dying. Like the time in the snow. “I feel safe with you. Safer than I’ve ever felt.”
“Gennie, could our meeting be a miracle? Maybe God brought us together, knowing we needed one another, knowing we belong together.”
She shivered. Goose bumps dotted her arms. Had God brought this remarkable man to her? Was it time to forgive God for what had happened? I was an innocent child, just like Stefan was. God was nowhere that day. An image of her classmates, all sitting primly in English class with their white socks and plaid skirts and hair ties flashed before her mind. The warmth of Margaret as they walked arm-in-arm home from school. The sweet scent of the candy shop. She was innocent then. All had been well. She had trusted that God would always be there, but He wasn’t. Had He returned to her now?
Belong together? Did they belong together? “Maybe.” I want him beside me. I want his warmth against me. It was the most important thing. She must have him next to her, as close as possible. She scooted to the middle of the bed and lifted the covers. “Get in here.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure?”
She smiled and patted the spot she’d just vacated. “Please. I’m so cold.”
He got into bed and lay on his back. She pulled the covers over them. When she snuggled next to him, he wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against his chest. His body, solid and warm, calmed her. She was safe here. She was safe with Stefan. You’re the light I must follow home.
“You’re the best man I know,” she said.
“And I adore every part of you.” He kissed the top of her head.
“Even all the parts no one else can see?” All the invisible demons lurking in my heart, wanting to extinguish the light?
“Especially those.” His arms tightened around her.
“Yours too.
“Can you try and sleep awhile?”
“I think so.” She closed her eyes, utterly exhausted. “Stay with me, please. Don’t leave.”
“I won’t leave until you tell me to.”
“What if I never tell you to leave?”
“Then I’ll stay forever.”
A few moments later, she was asleep. Gennie dreamt of the elk. She rode on his strong back, with a billion stars overhead.
Chapter 4
She woke several hours later curled next to Stefan. He slept on his stomach, with one arm under the pillow. His eyelashes splayed against his cheekbones; she could easily imagine him as a little boy. She watched him for a few moments, contemplating all they had shared that morning. Everything was different. Reveali
ng their secrets had moved their connection to a deeper place, one as intimate as sex itself. They knew each other in a way no one else, except their mothers, knew them.
She slipped from the bed, careful not to shake it. He needed to sleep, even if she couldn’t. It was only nine o’clock. The early morning phone call from Trix felt like it had happened a lifetime ago. In her socks, she went to the window and lifted one slat of the wooden shutter. The sky was a brilliant blue, and the snow sparkled silver in the sunlight.
A memory came to her. She was six years old, holding her father’s hand. They looked out the window into their yard. A fresh blizzard had come the night before, but now the sun shone, making the snow sparkle and dance. “Fairy dust, Daddy. I see fairy dust.” He dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close. “We could use some magic about now,” he said.
“It’s right there, Daddy. All the magic we need.”
She touched the cold glass where ice made an etching like a snowflake. Daddy, I miss you.
What had Stefan said? Do you think it’s cost you to carry around a secret for so long? What had it cost her to keep the complete truth from her mother? She had done it to protect her, but had it robbed them of a more intimate relationship? They were close. The tragedy of the past had not torn them apart but had brought them closer. Would they be even more so if she’d told her about Murphy? What did our secrets and half-truths cost us? What had they cost her?
She turned away from the window. Stefan had awakened and was sitting up, watching her. “Hi.”
“Did I wake you?” she asked.
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. I’m feeling much better.”
“Me too.” She glanced at the clock. “I have to have a video conference call with Trix and Reid in a half hour.”
He was out of bed, stretching his arms over his head. His t-shirt rose a few inches, and she caught a glimpse of his taut stomach. How did the man make a baggy pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt look that good? Her hands twitched at her sides. I want to touch him. Know his every part of his body with my fingertips like a blind person reading braille.
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