Raine's Haven

by Shari J. Ryan

  "Do you already have this edition?" I ask her.

  She glances up at me and narrows her eyes. "Why would I have any edition of a bridal magazine?"

  "Most women who are waiting for their man to pop the question have one lying around somewhere, I assume."

  "I already told you," she says, angered, "I turned down the proposal because I didn't want to marry him."

  "He looked pretty concerned about you last night when he came whipping into the parking lot in that fancy car of his."

  "He only says he loves me," she says. "He doesn't know what he wants."

  "What about you?" I ask.

  "My parents love him," she answers.

  "That's not what I asked."

  "If I loved him, I would have agreed to take the three-karat ring he tried to place on my finger. Instead, I went running."

  "That's awkward," I concede, placing the magazine back down.

  "Not as uncomfortable as telling him I didn't want to be with him anymore after he picked me up from what appeared to be your motel room. You know, where you were standing almost naked in the doorway while your girlfriend was waiting for you on the bed."

  "That woman isn't my girlfriend." The exact moment the words come out of my mouth, I know I just set myself up for a more in-depth array of questions.

  A nurse walks over to us, interrupting this very uncomfortable discussion, and hands Haven a handful of gauze. "Hold that up to your leg, sweetie. The pressure will help stop the bleeding. It'll just be a few more minutes."

  “Thank you,” Haven offers while unsteadily trying to press the gauze up to her leg.

  “Do you need a blanket?” the nurse asks, seeming concerned. “You’re shivering.”

  “Yes, please.” Haven answers her quickly before turning back to me as if she needs something. Staring coldly into my eyes for a moment, I’m not so sure I can decipher the look she’s burning me with, but I know she’ll share her thoughts, just like she was always so good at doing.

  “What is it?” I press.

  "Whatever the naked woman is to you, I hope you used protection, and took a shower afterward." Her cute sarcasm is accented by an even cuter smirk.

  I cock my head to the side, giving her a look she can read without a word needing to be said.

  Once again, I’m saved by the nurse as Haven's name is called from the doorway.

  I stand up to join her, but the nurse places her hand up while pinning me with her strained glare. "We're going to get some intake information from Haven first. Once we're through, you can join her."

  Intake. Is that short for interrogation?

  Haven looks at me with a knowing grimace, understanding more and more the real effects of what her little lie caused seven years ago.

  22

  Haven

  I don't think my finger should be bleeding this badly, but Mom and Daddy seem to think I'll be okay. "We're just going to bandage that right up, and you'll be as good as new," Daddy says.

  "Frederick, that needs stitches," Mom argues. "It's split wide open."

  "Honey, wait right here while I have a quick word with your mother, okay?" Dad says, patting his hand on my knee a few times.

  The two of them walk out of the bathroom to talk, but I can still hear them. "I realize it needs stitches, Pamela, but what are we supposed to do?"

  "We need to take her to the clinic," Mom snaps back.

  "We have no medical insurance. Do you have any idea how much it will cost to get Haven stitches?"

  "I don't think I care," she says. "We're talking about our eleven-year-old helpless daughter, Frederick."

  "Damnit, I can't live like this anymore," Daddy shouts.

  "Then it's time you stop it with this stupid law practice and get a job that will pay you a salary."

  The silence makes me wonder if they forgot about me in here, and I hope they didn't because the blood is already seeping through the bandage Daddy just put on my finger.

  "Mom?" I call. "I don't think the bandage is working."

  She walks back into the bathroom just as I hear the front door slam. "Come on, sweetie. I'm taking you to the clinic."

  "What about Daddy?" I ask, wondering how their argument ended. All they do is argue, and it's always about money or me.

  "I don't know what he's doing," she hisses. "Come on, let's go."

  As we walk down the street toward the center of town, Mom eyes my finger and the blood trickling out from the side of the bandage. "You should squeeze your hand around your finger, honey. It will help stop the bleeding." I do as she says and peer back up at her, feeling scared about going to the hospital. "What were you doing with that kitchen knife?"

  "I was trying to cut a thin slice of bread. I just wanted to make sure we had enough for our dinner tonight. The knife slipped. It was just an accident," I tell Mom.

  "Why didn't you just ask me to help you?" I didn't ask her to help because she was crying in the bathroom, and I didn't want to bother her. Daddy was yelling at someone on the phone. When they get like that, it’s easier to do things myself.

  When we arrive at the clinic, they tell us there is going to be a small wait, but they bandage my finger back up in a way that makes the blood slow down. It doesn't hurt too much, so I try to keep my attention on the TV above our heads. Plus, mom looks like she has a headache, so I don't want to bother her.

  The door to the clinic flies open, and Daddy barges in, looking in every direction until he spots Mom and me. Running toward us, he sits down in the seat on the other side of me and places his arm around my shoulders. "Sorry," he says. "I had to take care of something."

  "Where were you, Frederick?" Mom snaps at him.

  "You remember I told you about that death last week?" I'm not sure what he's talking about, and I didn't hear him mention a word about anyone dying last week.

  "Yes, of course. Did you find out when the funeral is?" Mom asks him.

  "It was two days ago. That's irrelevant," he says, speaking quickly.

  "Frederick!" Mom scolds him.

  Daddy leans across my lap, whispering to mom. “I have a plan," he says, while rubbing his thumb and forefinger together.

  "What? How? What kind of plan is this now, Frederick? Your plans keep getting us into trouble."

  "Not this time," he argues.

  "We are not stealing someone's money," she says firmly, under her breath. Daddy straightens his posture then slouches into his blue cushioned chair. "How much are we talking, exactly?"

  I'm looking back and forth between the two of them, wondering what's going on, but I'm not sure I want to know. It sounds like it's wrong, whatever it is.

  "Four million," he says under his breath.

  Mom gasps for air. "How can we get away with that?"

  "Easily," Daddy says with a raised brow and a smile I don't like very much.

  "Haven, I'm just going to ask you a few questions and take down your vitals," the young nurse tells me. "What happened to you today?"

  "It was dumb," I tell her. "I broke up with my boyfriend last night, and I ran off to a secluded spot in the woods this morning to get away and think for a while. The sun was hardly up, and it was hard to see what I was doing, so I slipped down a hill."

  "Your hair is all wet. Was it raining?" She looks toward a window, observing the weather outside.

  "I was beside a small lake and thought maybe the cool water would stop the bleeding since I was in the middle of the woods alone. Then, I felt faint because of the blood and the frigid temperature of the water. Next thing I knew, I had passed out. It was a bad decision on my part. I never should have been out there alone."

  "Yikes," the nurse says, wrapping the blood pressure cuff around my bicep. "So, no one was with you?"

  I just told her I was alone. "No…I was by myself, like I said."

  "We have to ask every incoming patient this question: Haven, does anyone at home hurt you in any way? Either physically or emotionally?"

  "No, ma'am, I'm pretty sure th
e only pain that's been caused was by me ripping my ex-boyfriend's heart out while he was proposing to me," I say through distressed laughter.

  "Oh my, that sounds unpleasant," she says. "Is that man out in the waiting room your ex-boyfriend?" Raine and I were never girlfriend and boyfriend. We were friends with a connection I'll probably never have with another person again.

  "No, he's just an old friend who happened to be in the right spot at the right time to help me."

  The nurse jots down a few notes and places her pen down on the counter beside us. "Well, I'm glad to hear someone was watching out for you today," she says. "You’re lucky this wasn't any worse."

  "I was thinking the same thing," I tell her.

  "The doctor will be in shortly, and I'll send your friend in to sit with you if that's what you would like."

  "Yes, please," I say, folding my shaking hands down on my lap. The irony of Bennett being a doctor who did nothing but talk about surgical stories, and the fact that I still can't deal with the thought of being in a medical facility just shows we were never meant to be. He loves blood, and it makes me pass out.

  Raine is escorted into the small space, and I can immediately see the discomfort written across his face. "I feel like I shouldn't be in here," he tells me.

  "You probably shouldn't be, but will you stay anyway?" Every time I see Raine, even if it's been less than ten minutes since I last saw him, my heart flutters around in my chest like a swarm of butterflies. No one else has ever given me that feeling before.

  "Why?" he says. "Do you know how many times I've asked myself why since the day I met you?"

  "I have told you why, Raine."

  "That's not enough."

  Grasping for a deeper reason than a simple need, I remember back to the time I asked him why. “You know when you see a sunrise?" I ask, grinning at him a bit. He narrows one eye, questioning me, but I'm not done yet. "A sunrise that's made up of so many colors that you wouldn't normally think would go together, but then it becomes the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Every time I've looked at the sky in the mornings since—you went away—I wondered if the same colors would ever light up the world the same way again. But, I've determined that the sunrise will never look the same way twice, and forever, I will be comparing every sunrise to you." I never forgot when he said that to me, well most of it. He leans back against the wall with a lost look.

  "Didn't I say that to you once?"

  "You did," I tell him.

  "I didn't say that last part though because that's something only a chick would say," he says while pressing his top teeth into his bottom lip in contemplation. "But, Haven—" I know. I have no right, none whatsoever to be saying those words to him, not after what I caused.

  The doctor enters the room, interrupting a conversation I would have only dreamed of having before a couple of days ago. "How are we doing in here, Haven?" he asks. "I hear you may need some stitches?" He looks over at me, then Raine, who's kind of hidden in the corner. "Oh, hello there." The doctor eyeballs Raine for a long second, either recognizing him or wondering why someone like me would be with a man like him. That's how this town is trained to think. "I heard you had a little accident today. What were you doing all alone in the woods?"

  "Running away," I answer honestly without hiding this matter's brutality. I'm a grown woman with a need to run away, and it’s a truth I can’t cover up.

  "I see. And whom were you running from?"

  "A life I didn't want," I say, keeping my answer simple. The doctor glances back at Raine again, and I presume it's with a questioning look I can't see.

  "I had nothing to do with that," Raine says. "I just happened to save her life." It sounds ridiculous, but it's true. Although, the doctor probably thinks he's trying to be charming and laughs nervously in response.

  "Well, you do need stitches. That cut is probably going to leave a decent scar, but I'll send you home with some ointments to help with the scarring."

  "It's just my leg," I tell him. "It's no big deal."

  "I'm surprised to hear that. Most women with a scar anywhere on their body want to find a way to remove any trace of it," he says, standing up to wash his hands.

  "Haven here isn't most women, Doc," Raine says, looking right at me.

  "Guess not. Good for you," the doctor says while drying his hands.

  "Well, you may want to hold her hand," the doctor says to Raine. "Cleaning the wound will probably be the painful part. Once I get most of the debris removed, I can numb it.”

  Raine's eyes lock on my face, probably questioning if this is appropriate, or if he even wants to be that close to me. He glances away for a moment, his focus drifting to the speckled floor. With a subtle nod and a deep exhale, he pushes off the wall and makes his way over to the other side of where I'm sitting. "This was a trap, wasn't it?" he whispers.

  "I never meant to fall down a hill today...or drown," I whisper back. I was in a relationship with another man just a day ago, and while I should feel like this is wrong, instead, I feel like it was never supposed to be any other way. Of course, he should never have gone to prison, either. Anytime I have considered this thought, I reminded myself that I was sixteen and stupid. Did I know what I wanted back then? Could those feelings carry forward seven years, never once fading even after not seeing him all this time?

  Raine doesn't take my hand right away. There's an awkwardness between us, and I'm afraid to see whatever expression is on his face. Instead, I focus on his dangling hands, wondering what's going through his mind, especially after the anger he vented last night.

  The doctor places an alcohol swab on the wound. The sensation burns, so I grit my teeth and inhale sharply. I close my eyes, trying to block out the scene, attempting to focus on something better—but the definition of better is currently blank, considering my recent life events. A digging sensation feels like a knife to my leg and a small whimper murmurs in my throat.

  Behind my closed eyelids, I feel a sudden relief from the pain when Raine places his hand over mine, gently weaving our fingers together, one by one.

  The sensation of Raine's hand and the warmth of his skin instantly calms me, taking my mind somewhere far away from this clinic. He squeezes my hand gently as he strokes small circles into the center of my palm with the pad of his thumb.

  My breaths quicken and my pulse races in a way that can't be helpful in this situation, considering I feel like I may pass out again. Even while mildly numbed by other soothing sensations, the pain in my leg is still incredible.

  "I still can't believe you passed out in there," Raine says with a chuckle. His hand is on my shoulder as he's guiding me outside toward my car. "That was a class act."

  "I can't believe you're laughing," I tell him. "I don't remember ever seeing you laugh."

  "I've had few reasons to do so," he says, turning serious again.

  We make it to my car with a sudden awkward silence looming between us. He has the now what look in his eyes, or maybe it's regret. If it weren’t for my accident today, life would have gone on with him being furious at me, and I would have had to accept never offering a real apology. Sometimes life has a funny way of making people hear what they refuse to listen to.

  "I should try to get as much of my stuff from Bennett's house as I can before he gets home from work."

  Raine scratches at the back of his neck as the sun beats against his caramel eyes, highlighting the three-day-old stubble on his face that he hasn't tended to. "I don't think I should be helping you with that one," he says. “But, are you okay to drive?”

  "I agree, especially since the last time Bennett saw you with me, you were in your underwear, and yes, I feel much better now that I’ve been served apple juice and saltines for an hour." We both laugh for a moment, but the reality is, I would do just about anything for a hand in getting my stuff out of that house, but if Bennett sees any more of Raine, I can almost bet my life he'll have Dad on the phone within seconds. Unless, of course, he already has, wh
ich I wouldn't put past him. Their buddy-buddy relationship has driven me nuts. The number of times I had to be reminded by the two of them that women always go for men who act like their fathers made me more than a bit worried for any future Bennett and I may have had. Was he a thief too? I'd always wonder.

  "Do you have somewhere to go once you leave his house?" Raine asks.

  "Either Maryanne's or my parents. Neither are optimal choices right now,” for reasons I don’t feel like discussing. “I'll figure it out, though." Not sure where to even start with that, but I have no choice. It's time to stand on my own two feet after being fed gold for twelve years. "What about you, Raine? Where are you going to go?"

  "I'll be staying with a buddy for a bit until I get on my feet. He owns Crows and offered me a job, so it's a start." Raine vises his hand over his face as the sun continues to shift away from the clouds. "If you decide to meander back into that bar, at least I won't feel responsible for having to kick your underage ass out of there."

  "Ah, yes, this is true," I say. Would I act desperate enough to visit him at the bar I now know he's working at? I'm not sixteen anymore and getting away with that type of behavior isn't going to work this time. Desperation is truly ugly at any age, and it turned his life upside down the last time he fell for it.

  "You should come by," he says coldly, with little emotion, almost as if he's not sure why he's saying it. I don’t know if I understand why he's saying it either, or why he's being so kind, for that matter.

  "Does this mean you have forgiven me?" I ask.

  "No," he says without much thought. "I'm still pretty angry, but I spent seven years trying to forgive you without reason. I was able to let it go, let you go, but…" he sighs. "It turns out, loneliness is an even bigger bitch after prison, and my head isn't on so straight right now."

  "Understandable," I say, fidgeting with my car key, looking away from his hardened stare. I was hoping for a response of a subtler nature, but there aren't many hurtful words I don't deserve to hear.