Broken Pieces

by Carla Cassidy

  The wind had picked up and lightning rent the sky in the southwest. She’d have to hurry to climb the tree that would lead her to the safety of her room.

  A rustle behind her froze her in her tracks. Before she could process what the noise might be, a slick plastic bag was yanked over her head.

  Someplace in the darkest recesses of her mind, Mariah knew she was dreaming and she tried to wake herself up before the real horror began, but the nightmare continued to play out.

  She was on the ground. He was on top of her, whispering to her. Then his hands splayed and pressed hard on her upper arms, holding her down as he raped her.

  Help me. Somebody help me. Her brain screamed the words that she couldn’t audibly speak.

  She sat straight up in bed, tasting the horror in her mouth, the smell of the storm lingering in her nose. The light of dawn creeping in the window brought her completely out of the dream and she shuddered and gasped in relief.

  Usually when she awakened from the nightmare memory, her impulse was to shove it out of her mind, forget about it as quickly as possible.

  This time she lay back on the pillow, stared at the faint morning light and tried to remember every detail of that night.

  She’d forgotten about his hands pressing so hard against her upper arms, hard enough that for a week afterward she’d had bruises there. She’d been bruised other places as well. By the next morning dark bruises had appeared on her inner thighs, making even the simple task of walking difficult.

  He’d been so big, so heavy. At this thought she realized it couldn’t have been Jack Taylor who had attacked her that night. Jack had been a scrawny, skinny boy and the person who had grabbed her that night had been big and husky.

  She hadn’t realized until this moment, with relief flooding through her, that she’d been just a little bit afraid that it might have been Jack, who had confessed that he’d had a crush on her in high school, the man who made her feel special now with just a glance of his green eyes.

  With the knowledge of his innocence shining bright inside her, she felt a weight off her shoulders and a new desire to allow whatever might happen between them to continue.

  She stared up at the ceiling and tried to remember those last moments with Clay in the gazebo. Had somebody been watching them as they’d kissed and declared their youthful love for each other?

  Had somebody been in the shadows of the gazebo watching and waiting? Had she been followed as she hurried home, running through the town park and down Main Street with the euphoria of Clay’s declaration of love ringing in her heart?

  Knowing that she wouldn’t sleep any more, she got out of bed, pulled on her robe and crept out of her room. As she went down the stairs, even the familiar creak of the fourth and fifth stairs didn’t ease the residual horror her nightmare had left behind.

  “Coffee,” she muttered aloud. That’s what she needed, a big hot cup of fresh-brewed coffee.

  As she waited for the coffee to brew, she stood at the window and watched the sun crest the horizon, shooting pinks and oranges to lighten the night skies.

  Had he followed her home from town? Had the attack been a matter of the wrong place at the wrong time or had he been waiting for her in the shadows of the trees, wanting her specifically?

  She’d thought it was all behind her. For most of her time in Chicago she hadn’t dwelled on that night. She’d lived her life, happy, and it had been only odd moments when the memories had disturbed her.

  But now she realized despite the fact that sixteen years had passed, she still hadn’t resolved it or been able to put it completely behind her. She wished now she had reported it, but at that time she’d been more afraid of her father than anything else in the world.

  That’s what bad girls get when they sneak out of the house. Her mother’s voice filled her head. It’s your fault this happened, nobody else’s.

  “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered softly as she poured herself a cup of coffee.

  There should be a test that everyone had to take before they became parents, she thought. If you failed, then you didn’t get the responsibility of having an innocent, vulnerable child in your care. Both her parents would have failed miserably.

  They had spoken often about the love of God, but hadn’t had any love in their hearts, and she had to wonder what influences had created them. She’d never known her grandparents, didn’t know what kind of upbringing her parents had endured.

  She carried her coffee to the table and sat, surprised to discover that the rage, the hatred, that she’d always felt for her parents had tempered into something different. A weary acceptance.

  Perhaps they had truly believed that they were decent parents, that the punishments they gave were just and right. They hadn’t been evil people, just cold and hard and unavailable to any emotional need Mariah might have had.

  As the sun rose higher in the sky and she sipped her coffee, she realized they didn’t deserve her hatred. They deserved her pity. If she accomplished nothing else returning to Plains Point, this realization was enough.

  She was dressed to work by the time Joel was supposed to arrive at eight thirty. She was going to help him move the rest of the living room furniture into the now empty study so he could begin sanding the living room floor.

  She’d told him he could have the furniture but not until she and Kelsey were ready to head back to Chicago. She didn’t want her daughter and herself to live in a house where there was no furniture. Joel had been agreeable to waiting.

  He was not agreeable when he arrived nearly half an hour late. It was obvious he was suffering a hangover and was sullen and slightly ill-tempered. He reeked of alcohol and his eyes were so bloodshot they looked as if they could bleed at any minute.

  Together they moved the furniture, with Joel bitching and moaning at every step. Mariah tried desperately to hold on to her patience, but finally she snapped.

  “Go home, Joel. Go home and sleep off whatever is wrong with you,” she exclaimed. “You’re no use to me today. I don’t want you here.”

  “I’ll be all right,” he said, although the sullenness of his voice said otherwise. “There’s no reason for you to get all hoity-toity. I remember you from high school, you walking the halls like you thought your shit didn’t stink.”

  She wasn’t sure who was more shocked by his words, her or him. He stared at her in horror. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I don’t know what’s wrong with me today.”

  “Why don’t we talk about it tomorrow,” Mariah said coolly.

  “Look, I said I was sorry,” he said, and wrung his hands. “Hell, everyone in high school treated me like dirt. Half the people in this town still do.”

  “Joel, I don’t even remember you from high school,” she exclaimed. “And if I was mean to you or ignored you or something, then I’m sorry. But that was then and this is now.”

  “You gonna fire me?”

  She sighed. She so didn’t need this. “I’ll tell you what, how about you show up tomorrow on time and we’ll pretend today didn’t happen?”

  He nodded, his lank hair falling forward. “That’s a fine idea.” He grabbed his toolbox and slid out the door. A moment later she heard the spit of gravel and the roar of his engine as he fishtailed out of her driveway.

  “What was that all about?” Kelsey said as she came down the stairs carrying Tiny in her arms.

  “Joel. I sent him home. He was hungover and cranky and I didn’t want to deal with it today.” At that moment the phone rang.

  “Have lunch with me today,” Jack said when Mariah answered.

  Giddy pleasure swept through her. “You scarcely give a girl a chance to think,” she replied.

  “That’s the idea. Don’t think, just do.” She hesitated and he continued. “If you’re worried about my intentions, don’t. I’m working today, so lunch will be an hour at the café.”

  Why not? She certainly didn’t need to be here to supervise Joel. Why not have lunch with a man who both int
rigued and excited her? This trip back to Plains Point didn’t have to be about the ugly past; it could also be about pleasure. And she deserved it.

  “All right,” she agreed. “What time are you planning on taking your lunch hour?”

  “Unless an emergency comes up, around one. Would that work for you?”

  “Shall I meet you at the café or at the clinic?”

  “The clinic. That way if I do get held up, you won’t be sitting all alone in the café waiting for me.”

  “Okay, then I’ll see you about one.” She hung up and turned to see Kelsey beaming at her. “Wipe that look off your face,” she exclaimed. “It’s just lunch.”

  “If you say so,” Kelsey replied. “If you’re going out for lunch, could you drop me off by the pool?”

  “I think that could be arranged,” Mariah replied, her head filled with sweet anticipation at seeing Jack for lunch.

  At twelve forty-five Mariah pulled to the curb near the swimming pool. “You have your sunscreen? Your towel?” she asked her daughter.

  Kelsey rolled her eyes. “Mother, I’m almost fifteen, old enough to know what I need when I go to the pool.” She opened her car door. “Should we just go ahead and set a time for you to come back and get me?”

  “Just tell me when and I’ll be here,” Mariah replied.

  “Why don’t we say about five?” Kelsey slid her long tanned legs out the door. “Oh, and have a great lunch with Dr. Hot.”

  “Stop calling him that,” Mariah protested, then laughed as her daughter wiggled her fingers in a good-bye and took off toward the pool.

  She’d expected daily hassles with Kelsey while they were here. She’d thought her daughter would pout and whine about missing her friends back home, hating being away for the summer. But Kelsey had adjusted remarkably well.

  As she pulled away from the curb, her thoughts went from her daughter to the man she was about to meet for lunch. A kick of adrenaline shot through her.

  “Calm down,” she said aloud as she headed toward the clinic. She was acting like a hormonally charged teenager. She’d intentionally dressed down for lunch, as if choosing to wear jeans and a summery tank top would make the meal less important.

  As she parked the car in a space in front of the clinic, the beat of her heart belied the casual clothes. Although there was no rhyme or reason for it, this felt important.

  She got out of the car and went into the cool interior of the building. Behind the receptionist’s desk a woman with graying hair and a smile greeted her with a friendly hello.

  “I’m here to see Jack,” Mariah said.

  “Oh, you must be Mariah. He told me to expect you. He’s with a client right now, but he should be finishing up any minute if you’d like to have a seat.”

  Mariah nodded and sat in one of the chairs. She could hear the rumble of Jack’s deep voice coming from one of the examining rooms. Just the sound of it created the butterflies taking flight in the pit of her stomach.

  She’d been sitting only a minute or two when the door to one of the examining rooms opened and Jack ushered out an elderly woman clutching a cat carrier.

  If ever there had been a man born to wear a white coat, it was Jack Taylor. It was a perfect foil for his slightly curly dark hair and green eyes.

  “You bring Casper in next week at the same time and I’ll check her out,” he said to the old woman. He smiled at Mariah as he placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and led her to the door. “And don’t forget to bring me pictures of that new great-grandbaby next week.”

  “I won’t.” Her face wrinkled with her smile as she gazed up at Jack. “And if Casper has any other problems, I can call?”

  “Anytime,” he said as he patted her arm. “I’ll see you next week, Mrs. Waverly.”

  As the door closed behind the old woman, Jack turned to gaze at Mariah. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.” There was an almost iridescent glow in his green eyes that made her think he might not be talking about food at all.

  “I’m beginning to have an appetite,” she replied. Her ambiguous words were met with a new flame of heat from his eyes. “Maybe we should get to the café,” she added.

  He grinned at her as if knowing she didn’t quite trust herself alone with him. “Have you met Beverly, my right-hand woman?” He gestured toward the receptionist, who looked at Jack as if he’d hung the moon.

  Mariah smiled at Beverly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, too. You two go and have a nice lunch. I’ll keep things going here.” She made a shooing motion with her plump hands.

  Jack grasped Mariah by the elbow, his hand warm against her bare skin. “Ready?”

  She nodded and together they stepped out into the warm afternoon air. “Is Casper a sick kitty?” she asked.

  “No, that’s the healthiest cat I’ve ever seen. But Mrs. Waverly is the loneliest woman I’ve ever seen. She lost her husband six months ago and soon after his death she started bringing Casper in with imagined illnesses. It didn’t take me long before I realized it wasn’t about Casper needing care, but rather Mrs. Waverly needing company. So once a week I tell her I’m doing a free cat checkup and she comes in and tells me about her grandkids and what’s going on in her life.” He shrugged. “It’s no big deal and it keeps her happy.”

  It was a big deal. Jack’s hot gazes and sexy demeanor had her in a slow burn, but the fact that he’d take time for a lonely old widow spoke to her heart.

  The café was busy, but they found a table near the back and seated themselves. “If you eat here every day, you must know what’s good,” Mariah said as she studied the menu.

  “It’s all good. I don’t think I’ve ever had a bad meal here,” he replied. “Today is Thursday, so that means the special of the day is chicken à la king and a side salad.”

  Mariah closed her menu. “That sounds good to me.”

  As they waited for the waitress to take their orders, Jack told her about some of his patients, both the furry and fluffy ones and their respective owners. By the time the waitress arrived, he had Mariah laughing at his tale of an escaped pet rabbit and Beverly’s frantic efforts to catch it.

  “God bless that woman, she was down on her hands and knees making what she imagined were rabbit noises,” he said.

  “You love what you do,” she said, stating the obvious as the waitress left with their orders.

  “I do,” he agreed. “I’ve always been a healer.” A dark frown raced across his features. “Sometimes I’m successful and sometimes I’m not.” He picked up his water glass and took a sip and by the time he placed the glass on the table, the frown had disappeared. “I’d much rather talk about you and me than about my work.”

  “There is no you and me except for this lunch date,” she said.

  “I’m hoping to change that.” The wicked light was back in his eyes.

  “Why? You don’t know anything about me. You don’t even know if I’m a Democrat or a Republican,” she said with a laugh.

  He grinned. “I don’t care about your politics, but I do know everything that I consider to be important about you.”

  “Like what?” she asked curiously.

  “You’re a teacher, so I know you have a lot of patience. You’ve raised your daughter alone and that tells me you’re strong and independent. Your daughter is charming and smart and has a good sense of humor and that speaks volumes about the kind of person you are.”

  He stopped talking as the waitress returned with their orders and it wasn’t until she’d left them alone again that he continued. “And then there are the other things.”

  “Other things?” Her cheeks warmed as his gaze lingered on her face.

  “I like the way you smell, like some kind of a mysterious flower. I like the way your eyes light up just before you laugh.” He leaned forward slightly, his gaze holding hers intently. “I like the way you tilt your head to one side when you’re thinking, the way your hips move when you walk. Yo
u’re the first woman in a long time who has made me think about making love.”

  “Oh.” Mariah’s breath hitched in her chest at his words and a flutter of pure feminine pleasure swept through her.

  He leaned back and smiled. “Now, we’d better eat before our food gets cold.”

  Eat? How could she eat when her head was suddenly filled with visions of Dr. Hot naked and in bed with her? She looked down at her chicken à la king and let the joy of his desire for her sizzle through her. What was even more exciting was her desire for him.

  It had been a very long time since her relationship with Tom and there had been no one who had tempted her since. Until now. Jack Taylor definitely tempted her to be foolish.

  Thankfully for the rest of the meal the talk focused on things other than sex, although energy simmered between them. The more time she spent with him, the more she liked him.

  Sex had been easy with Tom despite the trauma of her rape. She’d always known that the rape had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with rage and domination and control.

  After Tom she’d rarely thought about sex. Life had been too busy, and what was the point of thinking about something you had no intention of having?

  Now as she ate her chicken and picked at the side salad, all she could think about was sex with Jack. It was as if his flirtation had tapped into some source of primal desire she hadn’t known she possessed.

  The sun was warm on Jack’s shoulders as they stepped out of the café to walk back to his office. He reached for her hand, and when her fingers curled warmly around his, he felt happier than he had in a long time.

  When they reached the door to the clinic, she thanked him for the meal, but when she got ready to leave, he grabbed her arm.

  “Do you have time for me to show you around the clinic?” Jack asked. “I don’t have an appointment for another half hour or so.” He wasn’t ready to tell her good-bye. Whenever he was with her, he felt as if he were living in his teenage fantasy. Eventually he suspected the fantasy would fade, but at the moment he was enjoying the hell out of it.