by Marie Force
One more day, she thought wistfully. What then?
They tended to the animals and met in the living room, where Grant lit the fire. “Are you hungry? I can roast you a hot dog.”
“As appealing as that sounds, I’m still full from the fireplace soup you cooked earlier. I wouldn’t mind some wine, though. Do we have any?”
“Let me check.” He took the flashlight and headed into the kitchen, returning a minute later with a bottle in hand. “Merlot. I’ll add it to our tab.” They’d been keeping a list of all the canned goods and frozen food they’d consumed during the blackout. “I heard someone say today that the island is nearly out of gasoline, there’re no more eggs or milk at the grocery store and all the ATMs are out of cash. Shows how much we rely on the ferries and all the supplies they bring.”
“What’ll we do if we don’t get power back before we run out of food?” Stephanie asked as he opened the wine, poured her a glass and joined her on the sofa.
“I suppose we’ll have to get out our fishing poles.”
The thought of running out of food sent a jolt of fear through her. “You think it’ll come to that?”
“No, silly,” he said, laughing. “I don’t think it’ll come to that. Between what we have here, what we have at the marina, what we have at Mac’s—all of which is being kept cold by generators—we’ll be fine.”
“Oh.” She took a sip of wine and let it warm her on the inside. “Good.”
Grant sobered as he studied her. “Could I ask you something?”
Wary, she glanced at him. “I guess.”
“Was there a time in your life when you didn’t have enough to eat?”
The question caught her completely off guard. Because she didn’t know where else to look, she studied her wineglass.
“Steph?” His voice was so soft, so gentle, so loving.
A deep breath shuddered through her as memories she’d locked away years ago surged to the surface.
“It’s okay,” he said, running his hand over her thigh. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“She tried her best, but she was an addict.” The words spilled from her lips, almost against her will. She kept her gaze fixed on her wineglass, sensing that if she let her eyes meet his, she’d lose her composure. “All she cared about was her next score. There was nothing she wouldn’t do or sell or overlook to get what she needed. It wasn’t her fault. She had a disease.”
He slipped an arm around her.
Stephanie rested her head on his shoulder, transfixed by the dancing flames in the fireplace.
“Did she forget about you?”
“Sometimes.”
“For how long?”
Stephanie shrugged. “A few days. A week once.” She felt and heard the breath catch in his throat.
“How old were you?”
“Six, maybe seven. The first time.”
His arm tightened around her, and his lips skimmed the top of her head. He all but vibrated with what she assumed was rage.
She appreciated that he didn’t say anything. What could be said, anyway? It had happened, and she’d survived. As she watched the fire and sipped the tasty wine, she was glad she’d come home with him. For one more night, she didn’t have to be alone or lonely or hungry for things others seemed to take for granted.
She’d give him one more night, and then she had to get back to reality.
Grant stared at the wine bottle, wishing he hadn’t chosen such a bad time to quit drinking. Hearing that Stephanie had not only been abused by her mother but neglected, too, was more than he could take. And then what happened to the stepfather who’d come to her rescue…
As he held her close, it occurred to him that she was a true survivor. Sure, he’d taken his share of lumps in the last couple of years as his relationship with Abby hit the skids and his career tanked. But compared to what Stephanie had endured, he had no real problems.
“What’re you thinking?” she asked in a small voice that told him his brooding silence had worried her.
“I’m thinking about how much I admire you.”
“For what?”
“After all you’ve been through, it’s a wonder you can put one foot in front of the other.”
“What choice do I have? There was no way I was going to let myself end up like my mother, and besides, I have to work to pay for Charlie’s lawyers.”
“I could help you with that, you know.”
She sat up and moved out of his embrace. “That’s nice of you to offer, but I’ve got it covered.”
“Let me rephrase—I want to help you.”
She was shaking her head before the words were even out of his mouth. “It’s my problem. I didn’t tell you about it because I expected you to do something.”
“I know that.” Grant turned to her and reached for her hand. “But I also know people, Steph—people who might be able to help you.”
The look that crossed her face was full of yearning until he watched her rein it in. “I appreciate that you want to help—”
“How much have you spent on lawyers in the last fourteen years?”
The question took her by surprise.
“How much, honey?” he asked, softening his tone.
“Close to half a million,” she said almost sheepishly. “Almost every dime I’ve ever made except the small amount I needed to live on.”
“How in the world did you come up with half a million dollars working in restaurants?”
“That’s not all I did.”
Grant wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this. “What else?”
She looked at him defiantly. “Whatever I had to. For one thing, I discovered strippers make a lot of money.”
He ached for what she’d endured all on her own. “Are you any closer to a new trial today than you were at the beginning?”
“We have a new lawyer, and he’s optimistic.”
“Please let me help you. Let me call every lawyer I know. Let me write about your story and tell people that Charlie doesn’t belong in jail.”
She was shaking her head as he spoke.
“Let me talk to my uncle, the superior court judge.”
That stopped her cold. “Your uncle is a judge.”
“Yes. My father’s brother is—”
“Frank McCarthy. Oh my God.”
Grant took the wineglass from her and placed it on the table. “Let us help you, Stephanie. You’ve been fighting this battle alone for most of your life. You don’t have to do that anymore. I have friends and connections and money. My family does, too.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “Let us help you.”
“Why?” she whispered.
“Because I can’t bear to think of you continuing to fight this battle on your own when I could so easily help you—and I know my parents would feel the same way if they knew what you’re going through.”
She pulled back to meet his gaze. “I meant why do you care?”
“I don’t know. I just do.” He tipped her chin and kissed her. “If you let me tell your story, if you let me do what I do best, maybe it’ll help.”
“What if…”
Grant released one of her hands so he could cup her cheek and compel her to look at him. “What if what?”
“What if I agree to let you help me and this thing between us, whatever it is, doesn’t work out…”
“My offer of help has absolutely no strings attached. I promise.”
She eyed him skeptically. “And what’s in it for you?”
Grant had to remind himself that she’d never had anyone help her with anything—other than Charlie, of course—so naturally she’d be suspicious of someone offering no-strings-attached assistance. “I’m not thinking about me. I’m thinking about you—and Charlie.”
“You said you’d been suffering from writer’s block until I told you about Charlie and what happened. Is that what this is about?”
Grant released a long deep breath. “I won’t lie to you and say I’m not gl
ad—and relieved—that the desire to write has come back. It’s been a long dry spell. But I meant it when I told you I wouldn’t write a word about you or Charlie if you don’t want me to. You have my word on that.”
“How would it help if you wrote about us?”
“People need to know the truth about what’s happened to Charlie. I have friends in Hollywood who can ignite a media firestorm with one phone call. I could get you more coverage of this story than you could ever imagine possible. I could arrange an appointment with my uncle. In other words, I’d raise some holy hell about the injustice of an innocent man rotting in jail when his ‘victim’ is willing to testify that no crime was committed.”
“Why would you do that for me? You barely know me.”
“Because what happened to you—and to Charlie—was wrong. And because I care about you.” Smiling, he added, “And I can’t help but wonder what you’d do with all your time if you didn’t have to think about getting your stepfather out of jail anymore.”
Stephanie released a laugh. “I haven’t the first clue what I’d do. I can’t remember a time when fighting for Charlie wasn’t at the center of my life.”
“Will you let me help you?”
She studied him for a long moment before she said, “Okay,” so softly he almost didn’t hear her. “In all the years this has been going on, you’re the first person who’s offered to help us.”
Grant pulled on her hand, bringing her closer to him.
She settled on his lap and linked her arms around his neck. “Thank you for caring.”
“I hope it helps.”
Her head dropped to his shoulder. “What do we do first?”
“I want you to tell me the whole story. Every detail. We’ll go from there.”
Releasing a deep sigh, she said, “It makes me tired to even think about revisiting it all.”
Grant hugged her and kissed her forehead. He realized that she was sitting on his lap and for once his body wasn’t behaving like that of a middle-school boy. At some point during the emotionally charged conversation, things had changed for him. Freeing her from her awful burden mattered to him. She mattered to him.
“Start at the beginning,” he said. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”
Chapter 16
“We were living in a rundown apartment in South Providence when Charlie moved in next door.”
Grant kept his arms around her and watched the play of emotions on her expressive face. “How old were you?”
“Eleven. My mother had been sober for a couple of months, and things had been pretty good for once, even if we had almost no money and the apartment was a pit. At least she was home and keeping her hands off me, so it didn’t matter much where we lived. She could be so nice when she wasn’t drinking or using. She was a totally different person.”
He could tell by the tone of her voice that she was far away from him, locked in memories.
“Charlie’s ex-wife had taken him for everything he had, so he was starting over. That’s how he ended up living in the same crappy building we were in.”
“What did he do for work?”
“He was a high school science teacher. He had so many cool stories about the planets and trees and dirt.” A hint of a smile graced her lips. “I remember thinking how odd it was that this grown man loved to do things like play with mud and bugs and worms. He was fun to be around. I’d never known anyone like him. He talked to me like I was a person and not a stupid kid.
“Even though I was still young, I knew there was something going on between him and my mom. She was pretty, and when she was clean, she took good care of herself—did her hair and makeup. I could tell he was really into her.”
“That must’ve made you happy since you liked him so much.”
“I was a nervous wreck over it. I wanted so badly to warn him off her, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it because I didn’t want to lose my new friend. Do you know how many times over the last fourteen years I’ve wished that I hadn’t been so selfish? None of this would’ve happened if I’d said something.”
“Aw, Steph, you don’t know that. You could’ve given him all the warnings in the world, but if he was in love with her, he would’ve seen what he wanted to see.”
“At least he would’ve known what he was getting into. By the time he figured it out, they were married, and he’d bought a cute little house for all of us. We were living in this fantasy world for a couple of years, but my stomach was in knots the whole time…waiting. Just waiting…”
Grant’s heart broke for the young girl she’d been and the woman she was now, having to relive it.
“They’d been married about eighteen months the first time she came home high. I can’t say for sure if it was the first time she used when she was with him, but it was the first time it was obvious that she’d been doing something. I felt so bad for him. He was shocked by how nasty she was. It was like someone had flipped the switch, and she was back. Of course he had a million questions for me about whether it’d ever happened before…” Her voice trailed off, and tears filled her eyes.
Grant wanted to tell her to stop. He wanted to tell her he’d heard enough, but he needed to know what’d happened so he could try to get her the help she needed so badly.
As if she was willing away the tears, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “When Charlie asked me if it’d happened before, I lied. I pretended to be as surprised as he was.”
“Because you were afraid he’d leave,” Grant said.
Nodding, she said, “Once again, I did what was best for me.”
“You were a kid, and he made you feel safe for the first time in your life. No one could fault you for wanting to protect that.”
“I can fault myself. He’s been in hell almost since the day he met us, and I could’ve prevented that.”
“I hate that you blame yourself.”
She shrugged. “Can’t help it.”
“Did she get loaded again?”
“Yep,” she said with a sigh. “As always, she fell hard. It didn’t take him long to realize that she was a drunk and a junkie, and I was a liar.”
“I’m sure he understood why you lied to him.”
“We’ve never talked about that. I’d like to think he gets it, but I don’t know.”
“How did he end up taking you from her?”
“He came home and found her beating me,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone that chilled Grant to his bones. “She was screaming and pounding on me with her fists. He pulled her off me and picked me right up off the floor. I was more or less out of it by then. When I came to, we were in a motel room. He’d cleaned up my cuts and tucked me into bed.” She paused, seeming to collect her thoughts. “I wanted to ask him what’d happened, but my mouth was cut and swollen. It hurt to talk.”
“Jesus,” Grant whispered, wanting to commit violence on the woman who’d hurt her so badly.
“Charlie was sitting by the window, staring out into the darkness. There was this orange sign in the parking lot. I can still see him outlined in an orange glow as he probably tried to figure out what the hell we were going to do next. The next time I woke up, the police where there, and they were arresting him.” Her voice caught on a sob. “The bitch had reported me kidnapped and told them he’d been sexually abusing me the whole time we lived together.”
Grant was afraid to say a word for fear of scaring her with his anger. He’d never heard anything so outrageous in his life.
“Because my clothes had been bloody and ruined, he’d put me to bed in just my underwear. I was black and blue and swollen and mostly naked. With hindsight and adult maturity, I can see that it looked really bad. I kept telling them he’d never laid a finger on me, but I they didn’t believe me. They took me to the hospital, subjected me to a rape kit.” Her slim frame trembled as a shudder rippled through her. “It was the worst thing I’ve ever been through.”
Grant hugged her tighter and pressed a kiss to her fo
rehead. “I’m so sorry, honey. I wish there was something I could say that wouldn’t sound stupid and insignificant.” His eyes burned with unshed tears over what she’d endured.
Using her sleeve, she wiped the dampness from her face. “That was just the beginning of the nightmare. The day before, my friend had been trying to teach me how to ride her bike.”
Grant had a flash of Big Mac teaching each of them to ride a bike when they were six or seven, running through the marina parking lot after them, laughing and yelling his encouragement. How lucky they’d been, and they hadn’t even known it.
“I’d fallen on the bike and had bruises on my upper thigh and… And…”
“The bruises cemented their case,” he said for her.
She nodded. “No one would listen. I felt like I was screaming at the top of my lungs, and no one could hear me. I told every police officer, lawyer, social worker and doctor that he never touched me. I offered to take a lie-detector test, to swear on a stack of Bibles. Didn’t matter. Every one of them patted me on the head like I was a stupid baby who didn’t know whether or not she’d been raped. No one listened.”
“I’m listening. I believe you. I believe you, Stephanie.”
Leaning her head on his shoulder, she looked up at him with big trusting eyes that slayed him. “That helps. Thank you.”
“What about your mother? When did you see her again?”
Her expression darkened at the mention of her mother. “She showed up at the hospital and gave an Oscar-worthy performance with tears of gratitude that her baby had been found safe and maybe not so sound, but alive. She was calling Charlie every name in the book and going on about how a child predator had been taken off the streets. Of course, for once, she was stone-cold sober. I found out much later that he’d recently threatened to divorce her and file for custody of me if she didn’t go to rehab. She was out for revenge, and she got it. Boy, did she get it.”
Grant linked his fingers with hers, wanting to comfort her in any way he could.
“Things happened really fast after that. Charlie was charged with kidnapping, sexual assault of a minor and a bunch of other felonies. Nothing he or I said or did made a bit of difference. I felt like was I drowning for months, forced to live with my mother in the house Charlie had bought for us with all his things around. His planet models and the fish tank and the ant farm he got me for Christmas.” A sob broke loose, and she began to cry.
