Moments later, as Taylor stood over the stove frying drumsticks, the sound of a plane flying over the house resounded in her ears. All day, every day, she listened to the planes flying to and fro. This house must be near an airport or something, she thought, turning just in time to see a plane flying past the window high above her head.
Wishing she was on a plane flying home to Hilton Head Island, Taylor picked up the tongs from the counter and began removing the greasy chicken from the frying pan, transferring it to the white paper towels sitting on the counter beside the stove.
Suddenly, a series of sharp pains stabbed her stomach. Taken by surprise, her mouth dropped open. She gripped the sides of her balled stomach, and her spine arched. Pinching her lips together, she swallowed the outburst threatening to erupt from her lungs. Oh, Jesus. I’m in labor. Oh God. This hurts. So bad. Give me strength, Lord. Strength. Not wanting Mildred or Kelvin to know she was in labor just yet, she mustered up some strength and stood erect.
Looking at the back of Mildred and Kelvin’s heads as they sat on the couch watching Family Feud on television, horrid thoughts ran inside Taylor’s head. Oh God, what are they going to do with my baby? Keep it? Sell it? Kill it? Oh God. Please tell me what to do.
Kelvin stood from the couch, pulled a pair of keys from his back jean pocket, and looked down at Mildred. “I’m going outside to chop some wood, Ma.”
Keeping her eyes glued to the television, Mildred kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “Good. I can use a hot fire in this here fireplace.”
After unlocking the back door and removing the chains, Kelvin pulled open the door leading to the back yard and stood with his back turned to Taylor. He grabbed his parka from the coat rack beside the door and shrugged it on.
It’d been so long since she’d seen the outdoors. Longing to inhale the scent of the outside air, pain ricocheted through her stomach, threatening to bring her to her knees. It’s now or never. Now or never.
Kelvin’s head snapped in her direction, and he glared at her. “It’s real cold out here. But as cold as it is, I bet you’d like to get out here, wouldn’t you, Taylor?” With her belly in excruciating pain, Taylor nodded. “Too damn bad.” Laughing, he walked outside and closed the door behind him. Taylor listened intently for the sounds of the door locking, but she didn’t hear anything. Could Kelvin have left the door unlocked?
Suddenly, a thought struck up in her mind. She poured more grease into the frying pan, turned it up to high, and waited. Taylor caressed her stomach, tried to soothe it. Tried to make the pain subside. I’m getting out of here. Just wait to come, my baby.
The scorching hot grease in the pan boiled. Taylor gripped the handle of the frying pan in one hand and grabbed a sharp knife in the other. Ready to turn Mildred’s life upside down, she left the kitchen, walked inside the living room, and hid behind the wall.
Please God, let this work. Terrified of what she was about to do, Taylor kept her back to the wall and inched only her head out into the den. “Mildred,” she cried. Mildred turned her gaze from the television to look at her. Taylor’s face contorted. “Hurry. I’m in labor.”
Mildred’s face split into a big, greedy grin. “Hot damn. It’s payday!” She jumped off the couch and hurried in Taylor’s direction. Taylor’s fingers squeezed the heavy handle of the frying pan with the still burning oil.
Right when Mildred reached the living room, Taylor threw the hot grease in Mildred’s face. Mildred’s facial skin curled like fleshy cottage cheese, and tortured screams erupted from her throat. Grabbing her face, she ran around in circles, then plummeted to the ground on her knees. “Kelvin! Kelvin! Aagggh! My face! My face!”
Gripping the handle of the sharp blade, Taylor sprinted into the den and hid behind the couch opposite the window. Crouching down on teetering limbs, her heartbeat escalated as she waited for Kelvin to burst through the door.
“Help! Help! I can’t see! I can’t see!” Mildred hollered.
The back door flung open, and Kelvin appeared. “Ma! Ma!”
“I can’t see! I can’t see!” Mildred’s boisterous screams tore through the entire house.
Panicked, Kelvin ran toward the living room. “What happened, Ma?! Where’s your face, Ma?! That bitch did this to you?!”
Sharp knife handle gripped in her hand, Taylor quickly lurched from behind the couch and bolted out the back door into the back yard. Pressure pushed against her pelvis. Clenching her aching belly, her eyes rolled over the wide, wooded area. Trees surrounded the house.
Where in the hell was she? Did they have neighbors? “Help! Help!” Light drops of rain began falling from the sky, pelting her scalp. The cold air made her shiver. Freezing, she took off running into the woods.
Sprinting through the dense forestry, Taylor’s bare feet froze from the cold, muddy ground. Ragged breaths escaped her. Running for her life, Taylor’s lungs constricted and expanded. Clueless to her surroundings, the navy dress she wore snagged on a branch, ripping the thin material. Her stomach balled, cramped, and ached. It felt like the baby’s head was pressing on her vagina. Oh God. Guide me in the right direction. Lead me, Lord. Lead me.
The light drizzles of rain turned to fat droplets, pounded Taylor’s head. Her contractions grew closer and closer, slowing Taylor’s feat to escape. Barely able to withstand the sharp pain, she became lightheaded. Nauseated, vomit threatened to escape her.
“Taylor!” Kelvin’s voice resounded through the woods. “I’m going to kill you!”
Suddenly, a gunshot rang out.
I’ve got to keep running. Keep going. Oh God. Scurrying as fast as she could, white sheets of rain drenched her. Taylor glanced back over her shoulder and tripped over a thick log. Screaming, she fell flat on her face in a pile of grimy mud. Sharp pains coursed through her belly as her face lay smothered in the wet soil.
Pressing her hands into the damp earth, Taylor rolled over to her back. Rain pelted hard on her face. Neck. Body. Her stomach burned like fire. Water gushed from her entrance. “Aaahhh!” Taylor cried. Looking up at the sky, she parted her thighs. She felt the baby’s head slipping from her entrance. “Aaahhh!”
Kelvin burst from behind a thick oak with a rifle in his hands. “There you are!” Aiming the rifle at her, he bustled over to where she lay on the ground. Pointing the gun at her face, his lips twisted with anger. “I should kill you!”
Eyeing the barrel of the black weapon, Taylor’s head motioned from side to side as the pain overtook her young body. “Please, help me. The baby’s coming.” Her body stiffened. She leapt up and pushed. “Agggh! The head! The head’s coming!” Writhing in severe pain, Taylor pushed again.
Kelvin dropped the weapon to the ground, then plopped down on his knees in front of Taylor. He hiked her dress up to her hips and looked between her parted thighs. Giving her a hateful stare, he removed her underwear.
Biting her bottom lip, Taylor closed her eyes and gave one final hard push. The fetus popped from her entrance out into Kelvin’s waiting hands and started screaming.
Out of breath, Taylor’s eyes shot straight to the baby’s genitals. She quickly reached out and touched his penis. It’s a boy. It’s a boy. Rain steadily soaking her, tears drenched down Taylor’s quivering cheeks.
Kelvin cradled Taylor’s son to his chest, grabbed the rifle from the ground, then rose to his feet. A satanic glare darkened his eyes. “After what you did to my mother, you can stay out here and rot, for all I care.” He spit on her before turning on his heels and walking away with her son.
“Give me my baby! Give me my baby!” Taylor cried her heart out as she watched Kelvin disappear beyond the trees with her newborn son. “Help! Help!” Overcome with grief, she became weak. Too weak to move. Too weak to speak. Too weak to fight for her life.
Feeling blood pouring from her womb, she lay on her back and gazed up at the moon. Rain pounded her face. Cold air froze her arms, thighs, and legs. Tears slid from the cracks of her eyes, dripped toward her ears. I’m
dying. Although her life was over, at least she fought ‘til the end. At least she didn’t die inside Mildred’s house. And at least she finally got to inhale the outdoor air. But more than anything, at least she got to have a fine baby boy from a fine young man like Zeke—Zeke Balfour. Her heart and soul. Her everything.
Cold chills spread throughout Taylor’s bones. Shivering, she slid her hand into her dress pocket and pulled out the ring Zeke had given her seven months ago. Barely able to move, Taylor slid the silver ring on her wedding finger and closed her eyes.
The lovely words Zeke had said to her on the day he’d given her the promise ring while inside the treehouse sailed into Taylor’s mind. Zeke had said, “Taylor Spelling…I promise to always be good to you, my love. I promise to love you now. Forever…and ever.”
The hard rain eased up, turned back to light drizzles. Taylor’s eyes drifted closed. Life slowly slipped from Taylor’s body as her breathing slowed. I love you, Mama. I love you, Zeke. I love you so much, my baby boy. My darling son.
“Roofroof. Roofroofroof.” Loud barks emanated from a wild dog. Terrified the dog would eat her alive, fear rushed through Taylor.
“Butch, get back here!” Hearing the sound of a man’s voice and a loud, barking dog, Taylor prayed hard inside her head that help had finally arrived. That the dog wasn’t alone and had an owner. Help. I’m over here. I’m over here. God, send him this way. I’m over here.
Shoes squished the leaves on the ground, then came to an abrupt stop. The man’s sharp gasp resonated in her ears. “Dear God! I knew I heard something!” A hard hand touched the side of her face. Patpatpat. “Wake up.” Taylor felt two fingers press into her neck near her jugular vein, then she felt her body lifting. “Hang in there, little girl. Help is here.” At the sound of the man’s strong voice, Taylor forced her eyes open to find a Caucasian man with a thick mustache and beard toting her. Despair reflected in the man’s blue eyes. “Who did this to you? What’s your name?” Holding her tight in his strong arms, he darted through the woods. Vapor puffed like smoke from his nose and opened mouth.
Saturated in blood, Taylor parted her lips. “My name is Tay…Tay…Taylor Spelling. Kelvin…took…my baby,” she whispered, then rolled her eyes closed.
“Don’t you die on me!” the Caucasian man shouted.
Chapter Five
Oxford, England
Clothed in a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants, Zeke strapped his athletic sports bag over his shoulder and hiked up the steps of his dormitory at the University of Oxford. Grasping the door knob to his building, sweat piped from his pores from the strenuous workout he’d had moments ago inside the gym on campus. Exercising and getting fit for football season challenged him, and he loved every minute of it. For starters, it relieved stress. Kept his mind occupied. Temporarily kept his mind off Taylor.
It wasn’t that he wanted to forget Taylor–because he couldn’t forget Taylor Spelling, even if he tried. It just hurt so bad to remember the day she’d been kidnapped. Hurt so bad to relive the pain. He’d never accept she may never come back to him. Never accept he’d never hold her again. Or kiss her again. Or never get the chance to hold his baby in his arms. Fuck. Life isn’t fair.
Walking down the hallway towards his dorm room, Zeke’s heart squeezed at the remembrance of the last day he’d made sweet love to his girl, Taylor. He’d built a treehouse for her so they’d have somewhere to go when they needed some privacy, and some time alone.
On that particular day, he’d even given her a promise ring, too. The look in her eyes had been one of pure joy. While many may have thought his love for Taylor had been puppy love, it’d been the real thing. He still loved her with all his heart. His soul. His everything. And he’d do anything to have Taylor back in his life again. Anything. God, I hope Taylor and my baby aren’t dead. Please send them back to me. Taylor Spelling is the only girl I’ll ever love.
Heading down the hallway towards his dorm room, Zeke waved at a guy named Thomas, then rounded the corner. Still depressed about Taylor, his eyes got moist as he fought to push the ugly remembrance from his brain. Standing at the door of his dorm room, he wiped the tear from his eye, twisted the door knob, and entered.
His roommate, Brad, sat at the desk, looking at the computer. Fingers rasping over the keyboard, Brad glanced back over his shoulder to look at him, then stopped typing. “What’s up?” Brad swiveled the chair toward Zeke, crossed his legs at the ankles, then steepled his hands to the back of his head.
Zeke tossed his backpack on his twin-size bed against the wall to his right. “I’m dreading my Business exam tomorrow. Dr. Webber’s tests are tortuous. No matter how hard you study, man, he makes it damn near impossible to pass his tests.” Zeke plopped down on the mattress, rolled his hoodie from his head, then began untying his sneakers.
“So I’ve heard.” Brad hit the power button on the computer, turning it off, then stood. “I’m going to a party tonight. Want to come?”
Inwardly sulking, Zeke shook his head. “Nah, man. I’m going to stay here and study for my test.”
Brad sighed. “But it’s Friday night, man! Your test ain’t ‘til Monday. Everybody’s going to be at the party. Some fine ass girls with big boobs. Lots of alcohol.” Brad splashed some cologne on his neck before stalking over to Zeke. “You should come and have some fun for a change,” his roommate stated, standing over him.
Brad, on the wild side, didn’t understand him in the least bit, Zeke thought, sliding a sweaty sock from his left foot. He wasn’t interested in any of the girls on campus–or off, for that matter. Only one girl had his heart—Taylor. In his mind, it’d always be that way, too. I wonder if Taylor had a boy or a girl. Do I have a son? Or do I have a daughter?
Zeke glanced up at Brad to meet his daunting stare. “What?” Zeke shrugged. “I’m not going. You should know by now I’m not into partying, man.”
Brad rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “It’s her again, isn’t it?”
“What are you talking about?” Zeke asked, but already knew.
Brad’s eyebrows slanted into a frown. “Taylor. The kidnapped girl. You need to get over her. Get on with your life.”
A cold, congested ache formed in Zeke’s chest. “I am getting on with my life. I’m here at one of the finest universities in the world, studying finance. Making new friends, playing football. Just because I don’t like partying, doesn’t mean I’m not having fun. Okay?”
Brad threw his hands up in the air. “But you haven’t even had any pussy since you’ve been here. Girls are all over you, dude. Your father is one of the wealthiest men in the world. Owning hotels and shit. With your kind of money, you can have all the pussy you want. But all you do is study. Study. Study. Study.”
Tired of Brad’s constant blabbing about his sex life–or lack thereof–Zeke stood. “And I’m fine with that. Getting laid doesn’t mean squat if it isn’t with the right girl. There’s only one girl for me.” Taylor.
“Maaannn, Taylor’s dead!”
Rage flooded Zeke’s bones. He fisted Brad’s shirt, drew back his fist, and barked, “Say it again! If you do, I’m gonna smash your fucking face in! Taylor is not dead! Do you understand?! She’s not dead! She’s alive!”
Brad positioned his hands over his face. “Calm down. Damn, man, I’m sorry. You ain’t got to get all sensitive.”
Zeke shoved Brad, causing him to stumble backwards. “You better not ever say Taylor’s dead again. She’s alive. Her and my baby are alive. And I’m going to find them one day.” Zeke struggled to tamp down his boiling anger.
Brad snatched his wallet from the desk against the window, stuffed it in his back jean pocket, and made his way toward the door. “Again, no harm intended. Sorry,” Brad uttered, closing the door behind himself.
At the sound of the door clicking closed, Zeke fell back on the mattress to his back. Glancing up at the ceiling, his head ached at the temples. Smelling musk emit from his armpits, he pulled his cell from the pocket of his
sweats and dialed.
On the third ring, Katherine answered. “Hello?”
“Hi, Katherine. Is my father home?”
“I guess you’re just going to insist on calling me ‘Katherine’ instead of ‘mother’, huh?” Uncomfortable, Zeke didn’t respond. “Suit yourself. No. You father isn’t home. As always, he’s at the hotel working. And to answer your question, no. There hasn’t been any word on Taylor. If we hear anything, we’ll make sure to call you. I promise, you’ll be the first to know.”
Zeke sighed. “Thank you, Katherine. Please let my father know I called.”
“I will, Zeke. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Katherine.” Zeke ended the phone call. Still lying on his back, he reached inside his pillowcase and pulled out a picture of Taylor. She’d given him this picture the last time they’d been together in the woods. Glancing at the photo of Taylor, a smile ruffled his lips.
Taylor’s pecan-colored skin glowed on her face in the photo. Caramel brown eyes, her brown, curly hair hung past her shoulders. Jeez, she’s so beautiful. Wife material. When I find you, Taylor, I’m going to marry you right away. Provide a good home for you and our baby.
Grieving, Zeke kissed the picture of Taylor. Wishing she was at Oxford with him, he placed the photo over his heart area and prayed for God to please send her and their child back to him. Mourning the loss of the only girl he’d probably ever love, his lids drifted closed, and he fell into a deep slumber.
The full moon glistened in the night sky. Hound dogs sniffed the ground. Bats flew overhead, all throughout the forest. Sticks broke beneath Zeke’s shoes as he, along with his father, brothers, Taylor’s mother, and people from all over the world, searched for his girlfriend three days after she’d gone missing from Hilton Head Island.
“Taylor. Taylor,” Zeke muttered beneath his breath, inwardly dying inside. Never in a million years could he have predicted something so horrifying as this.
MARRYING MR. RIGHT (The Brides of Hilton Head Island Book 3) Page 4
