Tempting Eden

by Celia Aaron

  “I have to go.”

  Her silence weighed on me, but I was already six feet deep and covered in frost. Her sadness was just a dusting of snow over the top.

  “Fine.”

  “I’ll call you in a few days.”

  “Love you.”

  “Me too.”

  “Jack?” Bess snapped her fingers. “Earth to Jack?”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  “I’m used to it by now.” She shook her head. “Why do I always have a soft spot for the troubled Jack Englands of the world?”

  I shrugged.

  “Ugh! Well, go on home then and get ready for your date or whatever it is you and Diana are doing. Do I get to meet her sometime, at least?”

  I snapped my laptop closed and dropped it into my satchel. “Doubtful.”

  She put her palms on the desk at the sides of her legs and leaned forward. “That means she’s not the one. If you don’t even care if I—your bestest friend in town or on the planet—ever meet her.”

  “Two things. One, you’re assuming a lot. Two, you’re assuming a lot.”

  Diana sucked up some time I’d otherwise spend drinking. She lived in my building. I’d seen her a few times. Nothing serious. She wasn’t particularly bright or interesting, but she helped take my mind off the past. We’d fall into easy discussions about pop culture, food, politics. Nothing real, nothing heavy. Just easy listening for me, simple interaction that kept me somehow sane, kept the memories at bay.

  It seemed like that was my main goal—drinking, painting, working, dating Diana—all of it was meant to blot out my memories, to take up my time so I didn’t dwell on Ms. Temple’s bits and pieces of information about Eden’s fall from grace, her firing from Thornfield, her custody battle.

  A few tidbits of news did interest me, though. Gray Poole had made headlines throughout the Southeast when he was indicted in a massive loan fraud, as well as racketeering, and unfair competition. The federal government had been watching his expanding real estate empire with interest, especially when they discovered the drug and hooker parties he threw for politicians in charge of zoning and environmental issues. His company was going down in flames and turning his closest cronies—including Thornfield—into smoking ruins. I’d scanned the news stories for Eden’s name, relieved to never see her mentioned.

  Her, her, her. That’s where my mind wanted to go. If the feeling ever got too strong and I wanted to break down and call her, I forced myself to recall the image of her the last time I saw her. With Gray. My blood boiled anew each time, the sting of betrayal like a thorn embedded deeply into my heart. I was poisoned, ruined.

  Bess leaned back and tapped her dark red fingernail on her chin. “Stop trying to fool me. I know you’re still in love with her.”

  I threw the satchel strap on my shoulder. “Don’t start, Bess.”

  She looked down, her signature crimson lips in a pout. “I just don’t want you to throw something away. Love like the kind I felt between the two of you doesn’t happen all the time.”

  She glanced up at me, her dark eyes serious.

  I stiffened. “Bess, drop it. This isn’t something I’m going to discuss. I’ve told you that a million times.”

  “But she cares about y—”

  “Goddammit, Bess, Eden only cares about herself!”

  She cringed away from the harshness of my words. I realized I was clutching the satchel strap so hard my knuckles had gone white. I forced myself to relax and lower my voice.

  “I’m sorry, Bess. I just can’t talk about her, okay? I can’t.” I took the few steps to her and lightly squeezed her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  She put her small hand on top of mine. “No, I shouldn’t have pushed. It’s just that I want you to be happy, you know?”

  “I know. After all, as you said, you are my bestest friend.” I gave her a weak smile. The last person I wanted to hurt was Bess. She’d given me a job, found me a place to stay, and let me nurse my broken heart under her watchful gaze. She deserved nothing but my thanks.

  She patted my hand and stood. “Right. Well, let’s blow this joint. You aren’t the only one with a hot date tonight.”

  “The Puerto Rican?” I asked.

  “The very one. He couldn’t get enough of me the last time. I think he may have an Asian girl fetish, but I don’t care. I like what he can do with his tongue.”

  “Thanks for sharing. Gotta run.” I hit the exit with her laughter at my back.

  I was relieved to get away from the one person in this town, in the state, who knew the real me. Bess had seen me with Eden, knew what sort of man I could be. Diana, on the other hand, fell for my façade.

  I drove home, fighting the traffic that snarled the city streets. The night was cold, though the days were getting warmer as spring approached. The earth didn’t stop spinning, the seasons didn’t stop changing, just because a part of me was broken.

  I showered and changed into some more casual clothes—jeans and a polo—for the evening. Diana wanted to see the newest haunted house flick that just came out. I didn’t mind taking her. It was a welcome distraction.

  I walked down the flight of stairs to her floor and rang her doorbell at a quarter to eight. She invited me in and kissed my cheek before she trotted back to her bathroom to finish getting ready. She was a knockout. Tall, maybe five-foot-ten or so, long legs, round ass, and decent breasts. She was mixed like me, though half black and half Japanese. Tonight, she wore an emerald green sweater and a short skirt with tights underneath. Her curves were on display.

  “How was your day?” she called.

  “Fine.” I opened her refrigerator and pulled out a beer. I popped the cap off on the edge of the counter and took a long pull. I’d need at least two more before we left, just to take the edge off, same as I’d done for the past six months. “How about yours?”

  “Busy day. We had an influx of new patients from St. Mary’s since the city stopped funding them. The shutdown has hurt the poor something terrible, just like we told them it would.” She sighed. “But they don’t listen. All about that bottom line to them.”

  Diana was an administrator at one of the smaller hospitals in town that was devoted to helping people who couldn’t afford medical care. She had a particular fondness for lost causes, myself included.

  “If you’re too tired to go to the mov—”

  “Don’t even think about it, Mr. England!” came her sharp reply.

  I dragged another bottle from the fridge and popped the top. “I was just saying…”

  The sound of a zipper cut through the air. Then another. She came out of her bedroom in knee-high fuck-me boots. She was trying to tempt me. In the time we’d been dating, I’d never bedded her, despite her efforts. I couldn’t. I should have. I should have fucked her until all my misery was covered over by the feel of someone else’s pleasure. But I couldn’t. As much as I’d tried to leave Eden behind me, she lingered, somehow tied to me, though now the string between us was a knotted mess.

  Diana raised an eyebrow at the bottle in my hand, the third now. “Going to be one of those nights again, is it?”

  “Just thirsty is all.”

  “Water’s in the tap, sugar.” She looked almost sad.

  I smiled and downed the rest of the bottle. She shook her head before leading me out into the chilly night. After a quick dinner with a few more drinks, we settled in at the movie theater.

  The movie was dull, though I didn’t give it much of a chance. I couldn’t concentrate. It was like this whenever I had time to sit and think, to take a breath. Even with the alcohol and the beautiful woman clutching my hand and leaning into me at all the scary moments, I couldn’t shake the thoughts that tumbled through my mind. Eden, Adele, Mason, Thornfield—all of it. The memories were impossible to stamp out, no matter how hard I tried.

  After the movie’s ghost antagonist was revealed and the final credits rolled, Diana dragged me back to her apartment. I was still drunk, stumbling in th
rough her front door and steadying myself against her small kitchen island.

  She came to me and brushed her lips against mine. Her eyes were large and dark. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

  She kissed me again, eyes closed, heart open. I was starved for the touch, but not from her. I kissed her back, trying to make it work, forcing the puzzle piece where it didn’t fit. She ran her hands up under my shirt, feeling my abs, my chest. She was so warm, so inviting.

  She took a step back and pulled her sweater over her head. She wore a lacy pink bra underneath. I could see her nipples, dark and rigid beneath the fabric. She reached behind her back and unclasped the bra before letting it fall, revealing the beautiful swells, curvy and plump.

  “Come into the bedroom.” Her voice was low, almost a rasp, as she turned, hips swaying hypnotically, and disappeared from view.

  I followed.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  EDEN

  “AND THEN WHAT HAPPENED?” Claudia asked.

  “He took me to his apartment.” I looked up at the judge. She wore tiny glasses, pushed far down on her nose. She couldn’t have been more than forty years old, but she had a harsh tongue and a clipped manner. She ran her courtroom in a hellishly efficient manner.

  “Then what did he do?”

  “Judge, I have to object to the relevance of this testimony.” Mason’s lawyer stood up, his wrinkled suit and clip-on tie making him look like a kid who dressed up as his daddy for a day. “We already have the paternity results back. The child is his. We don’t need this little demonstration of the details to prove any of that.”

  My attorney Claudia never looked at the schmuck, just kept her eyes on the judge. “Judge, if you’d give me a little leeway here, I think you’ll understand why I’m going down this road.”

  “Proceed.” She gave her monotone judgment and refocused her light blue eyes on me.

  “He gave me wine. A lot of it. I didn’t want it. I wanted to go home. He wouldn’t let me. He—”

  “Judge!” The buffoon in the wrinkled suit was on his feet again. His voice sounded too loud in the small, wood-paneled courtroom. The only other souls in attendance were Mother and Maria. Mother was dressed as if she were in a legal TV show drama, perfect suit and pumps. Maria wore a more casual skirt that came to her knee and a light sweater. They held hands.

  Things had changed quite a bit in the past six months. The night Maria had come to dinner had ended rather differently than anyone realized. Instead of leaving and going back to her Homewood cottage, Maria had, apparently, stormed up to my mother’s room where the two had it out. I tried not to imagine the rest of the details of what went down, as it were. As we’d all suspected, they’d been lovers and were only separated when my mother married my father.

  Mother, out of love for my father’s memory—she told me that she truly did come to love my father—and the desire to hide her sordid past from her daughter and granddaughter (I’d rolled my eyes when she’d put it like that) had let her first love wither. Maria, in the space of a very short time, had brought it back to life. They were the marriage of opposites and couldn’t be happier. Their joy, along with Adele’s love, brought at least a little solace into my life, though my self-inflicted wound still hurt beyond repair. I missed Jack every day. Every day I hoped he’d return or at least send me a text or even a nastygram. But there was nothing. No contact.

  Mother and Maria sat a few rows back, Mother’s expression growing graver by the second. I’d still never told her the truth of Adele’s conception, even after Mason filed suit. I didn’t want her to worry any more than she already did. But now she was here, listening to it all for the first time. I regretted not giving her more warning.

  Mason’s lawyer continued. “I object to this on several grounds, not the least of which is relevance. This testimony has nothing to do with my client’s rights to see his daughter.”

  I looked up at the judge from the witness stand where I sat. Her mouth, though never too amenable to a smile, turned down into a harsh frown. “One more word out of you during this line of questioning and we’re going to have a problem on our hands, Mr. Trent. Do you understand me?”

  The judge stared daggers at the lawyer until he sat down. Mason, dressed in an only marginally nicer suit than his attorney, leaned over and began feverishly whispering in his attorney’s ear.

  Claudia resumed her position in front of me, holding me steady with her now-familiar gaze. She had been a friend of mine in high school, and we’d only recently reconnected as I searched for counsel to fight Mason’s custody efforts.

  I hadn’t been able to pay him, not after my career imploded and I lost the lion’s share of the Belle Mar commissions. He thought that openly suing for custody would shake some money out of Mother’s tree, but she had even less than I did. To her credit, Mother offered to sell the house if it would get Mason out of our lives, but I declined.

  From the moment I’d returned home, heartbroken and jobless, I’d resolved to fight Mason. I wouldn’t let him rule me anymore. My fear of him led me to make the hugest mistake of my life—and I didn’t mean getting pregnant as a teenager. No, the biggest mistake I had ever or could ever make was driving away the love of a man like Jack England. I knew from the moment I saw him that horrible night in the penthouse, from the look in his eye, that I would live the rest of my life with the regret of hurting him lodged under my ribs, aching at intervals.

  It ached even now, as I sat and retold my rape at Mason’s hands. Jack had given me the strength to call it what it truly was. I’d never thanked him for the courage he’d shown. Another of my failings when it came to him.

  “You can continue, Ms. Rochester.” The judge removed her glasses and placed them in front of her. Her features softened toward me, or perhaps I imagined it.

  I took a deep breath, though it didn’t stop my voice from quavering. “He kept giving me wine. I was drunk. On his couch. I told him I wanted to leave. He pushed me down. I said no. He-he raped me. I can’t remember many details, but I know he raped me. And then I had Adele nine months later.”

  “You son-of-a-bitch!” My mother stood and lunged toward Mason before Maria rose and took hold of her arm.

  My mouth was no doubt agape at the sight of someone having to hold my Southern belle mother back from working physical harm on another. Mason cringed away from her, his cowardice on full display.

  “Mrs. Rochester!” The judge barked. “You will sit down and remain calm while in my courtroom. If you don’t, I’ll have the bailiff escort you to a holding cell until you can comport yourself calmly.”

  Mother obeyed, though it seemed only because Maria yanked her down into the pew next to her.

  Claudia put her hand out toward Mother, trying to instill patience before turning back to me. “And how did Mr. Mason interact with Adele after her birth?” she asked.

  “He didn’t. He never wanted to come see her, so he never did. He wasn’t interested.”

  “What was he interested in?”

  “Money. He wanted money. He told me if I paid him off and kept him taken care of, he would never take Adele from me. I paid him for years so Adele would never have to know him, to know what he did to me. But when I couldn’t pay anymore, he brought this suit.”

  “Do you think he has any real interest in seeing Adele?”

  I looked at Mason. He gave me an acid smile. “No.”

  “Why do you think he pressed this suit?”

  “I lost my job and couldn’t pay him anymore.”

  “Do you think he might harm Adele or do anything to hurt her, or you, if the judge grants him custody?”

  I felt my insides chill. “After what he’s already done, I’m certain he will.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Rochester. That’s all the questions I have.”

  “Cross, Mr. Laramie?” the judge spoke to Mason’s attorney.

  “Yes, Your Honor.” He rose and came to stand right in front of me.

  I didn’t find him i
ntimidating in the least. My secret was out now, finally. Mother knew. I’d hoped I could wait to tell Adele until she was older, but I knew now that I couldn’t keep it from her any longer.

  “You’d been out with Mr. Mason before the night of your so-called rape, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’d snuck you into bars that you knew you were too young to be in?”

  “Yes.”

  “You broke the law?”

  “I don’t think there’s a law against me being in a bar.”

  He rolled his eyes. “You broke the law by drinking alcohol while still a minor?”

  “I think the law is probably that adults aren’t supposed to serve alcohol to minors, not that I’m not supposed to drink it. But I’m not a lawyer.”

  I caught Claudia’s nod out of the corner of my eye. We had already been over this line of questioning in our preparation sessions.

  “You let him take you to these places?”

  “Yes.”

  “You spoke to him on the phone nightly?”

  “Yes.”

  “You told him you loved him?”

  I blinked hard and looked at Mason, the man who’d taken so much from me. “I did tell him that, yes.”

  The lawyer crossed his arms and took on a quizzical expression. “On the night of this alleged rape, what were you wearing, Ms. Rochester?”

  “I don’t remember. A skirt, I think.”

  “Short skirt?”

  Claudia stood. “Judge this line of questioning is as irrelevant as it is abhorrent.”

  The judge tapped her nails against her wooden desk. “I’ll give you a few more questions along this line.”

  “Thank you, judge. Now, answer my question.”

  “I don’t remember. Possibly.”

  “How about your shirt? Tank top? See through? Anything like that?” His eyes went down to my breasts before returning to my face.

  “I honestly don’t remember.”

  “But you went to Mr. Mason’s house of your own free will, is that correct?”