Her smile persists even after she lets go of me to look at Jack. “Thank you. We have so much to thank you for.”
Jack waves his hand in the air dismissively, as if it’s no big deal that he just offered to finance a new home for us. “You two deserve to be happy after all you’ve been through.”
I nod appreciatively and pull Morgan to me again. With her in my arms, I feel like I can finally breathe again. My entire life has led up to this moment. I’ve experienced all the bad, and now I get a taste of the good. I have a strong and supportive woman by my side, and though we still carry our own issues and have more healing to accomplish, we can be there for each other and do it all together. We have a baby on the way, a home to be chosen, and a life to begin. It all starts now.
I’m ready.
19
His Fears
∞
All is well.
A sense of normalcy.
We wear our masks and continue.
Hiding that which waits inside
itching to take over.
Something we can’t escape.
There is no running.
He has his demons, and I have mine.
In daylight, we face them together.
At night, we face them alone.
Our masks come down.
It’s all that’s left.
His fears and mine.
∞
It’s hard to believe how much life can change in the course of a week or a day, or even a minute. It took less than sixty seconds for Mark’s men to originally take me, drugging me unconscious and stealing me from the only life I ever knew. It took less than a day for me to taste freedom when I escaped into the woods only to be brought back and terrorized again before Dad and Leo rescued me. It took less than a week for us to go from a tiny motel room in California to a gorgeous secluded house in Arizona, a three-bedroom beauty hidden away by natural rock structures well off the main roads and fully funded by our own personal physician.
This is where the rest of my life will begin. It starts right here.
Jack bought the house for us under an alias, paying in cash and setting up all the utilities to be automatically drawn from his account despite Dad’s attempts to insist otherwise. Jack was overly generous. I worry that we’ll never be able to fully repay him for giving us a place to live and a home in which to raise our baby.
It’s our first night in the house, though we’re not alone. Mom and Dad are already asleep in one of the other bedrooms after insisting on staying for a few days to make sure we’re settled in and safe.
They tell me these excuses over and over, but the truth is I don’t think they’re ready to let me go. After all this time I was gone from them, they’ve only craved to have me back. Now that I’m here, it’s too hard for them to say goodbye, even just for a while. The house is only a few hours away from where I used to call home. We’ll see each other often, most likely on weekends at first, then maybe every few weeks, but that doesn’t make it any easier to say goodbye, even on a temporary basis.
We had a nice dinner together, the four of us talking like normal people over plates of Mom’s famous chicken parmesan. I’m still amazed at the ease with which Leo fits into our family unit. In the days back at the prison, in the way Dad’s fury toward Leo radiated through Mark’s phone call, I never would have imagined they’d be sitting together sharing food, drink, and stories at the dinner table.
Over the past week I’ve heard bits and pieces of all they went through together up until this point. It was hard to hear about their first encounters, my dad roughing Leo up and tying him to a chair in the basement. It was equally as hard to hear about their reactions the day of the phone call when they thought my screams at Jack being beaten were the result of Mark beating me senseless instead. They recounted their successes in the beginning when they were interfering with Mark’s operation, and then their frustrations when they couldn’t go down that path any longer. For a while they had nothing to go on until I intervened, sneaking a piece of stray pine needle into the letter Mark had me write to indirectly gloat over his success with me.
Tonight’s dinner was void of talk of the recent past. We spoke only of the future, talking baby names and tricks to get the little beast to sleep at night. I held Leo’s hand beneath the table as my parents recalled their experiences with me as an infant and what worked and what didn’t. I couldn’t help turning to Leo throughout their stories, gauging the reaction on his face and always seeing excitement and happiness there, and maybe a little embarrassment, too.
I don’t think he ever envisioned himself becoming a father, but he has only played the part well so far. After dinner when my parents retired to their room, Leo and I remained out in the living room, talking and laughing quietly. Leo insisted I lay down on the couch and get comfortable as he sat on the floor next to me. He put his ear to my belly as if he could hear the baby sloshing around in there and lifted my shirt just enough to rake his fingers over the bare skin of the baby bump. He cooed quiet words to my belly, reassurances and promises intermixed with lullabies that his mom used to sing to him.
When he noticed I was crying silent tears while watching him interact with his child through my belly, he became immediately concerned and carried me to bed. I tried to tell him they were happy tears, a sign of my relief that he was with me, that he will be here with me for the rest of the pregnancy and for the baby’s birth, and that he will actually get to know and love this child that he created with me. He was still worried, though, and brought me straight to bed.
I’m lying here in the comfort of Egyptian cotton sheets, in our own bed in our own master bedroom, waiting to spend my first night alone with Leo since the night before we were separated. At the motel, Leo shared a separate room with Jack, and I slept alone in one bed and my parents slept in the other bed. I know Leo wanted to be with me at all times while we were there, and I would have loved to have him next to me those nights, but we both knew it wouldn’t be appropriate for us to do that. It was enough for me to know he was just next door if I needed him.
My eyes peek open and widen as Leo emerges from the bathroom in nothing but navy blue boxers. The light from the lamp on the nightstand highlights his chiseled chest and the shiny sheen to his tattooed skin. His dark hair dangles in his eyes, and I have to restrain myself from moving the strands away from his face when he takes his place in the bed.
Seeing him here practically naked next to me reminds me just how much I missed this man, this beautiful human being who is completely supportive of me, who loves me and would do anything for me.
I smile at him.
“Don’t get any ideas over there,” he says teasingly.
“What if I already have ideas?”
“You know what I’m going to say. You should–”
“Rest. Yes, I know. I’m always supposed to rest.”
Leo moves himself under the covers until his head hits the pillow. We’re both lying on our sides facing each other. We’re quiet a long moment, distracted by our observations of the other person and lost in thought, until I finally make a move.
My lips sneak forward to kiss him, pressing gently against his mouth, teasing his tongue with my own. He hesitates only briefly before fully receiving my gestures, his hand sneaking up my face as he kisses me back with pent-up desire from months of being apart. His hand moves to the strap of my camisole. He pulls it slowly down my arm and exposes my swollen breast without taking his lips off mine.
His fingers dance across my skin, teasing my nipple and causing an instant rush of heat and excitement to flow throughout my body and between my thighs. I can’t take my lips off his the entire time he massages my breast, or when he pulls down my underwear, or when he slips two fingers inside me. We’re still kissing when he swirls his fingers around, inside and out, opening me up and getting me wet for what’s going to happen next.
He sucks gently on my lower lip between kisses as he removes his fingers from me and orients his body over mine. Som
ething hard and eager presses up against me, prepared to invade, ready to take over. He finally pulls back from our endless kiss. I open my eyes as he plunges into me, and then I see him.
Mark’s face. He’s smiling down at me with his evil grin of malevolent intent as he forces himself in and out, ripping into me, destroying me.
I close my eyes and scream and thrash in every direction with all the strength I have. Tears streak down my face as I feel his hands all over me, touching me everywhere, holding me down and forcing me to his will. I struggle and fight against him with every ounce of my remaining willpower until I have nothing left. My body finally surrenders, and I stop resisting. I give in to my weakness and let his hands touch me and have their way with me.
I’m waiting for the next invasion of my body, but it never comes. The hands are soothing now, almost inviting. They comfort me and transfer their warmth to me. They are gentle but hold me with subtle intensity.
The hands are shaking now. They grip on to me tightly. Something else is reaching out to me. A voice.
“Please,” the voice says.
I hear something else–sobbing–and it’s not from me.
“Please,” the voice says again. “Morgan.”
My eyes shoot open.
I’m drenched in sweat in Leo’s arms, his tear-stained face and bloodshot eyes above me in the lamp light from the nightstand. I’ve never seen him so upset, so beside himself with pain and grief.
“Leo?”
He breathes a desperate sigh of relief as he pulls me tightly against his chest.
When we finally separate from each other, I see that my parents are standing in the room, shocked and fearful looks on their faces. They rush to the side of the bed.
I’m so lost and confused. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You were screaming,” Leo says unsteadily. “Some nightmare state. You wouldn’t snap out of it. I was right here with you, but I couldn’t reach you.”
“I’m okay,” I reassure him, looking between him and my parents. I woke up in a panic from several nightmares at the motel after I was rescued, but those instances were not nearly as intense as this. “Just a horrible dream.”
Mom leans in to kiss my forehead as Dad grabs my hand supportively. “You had us worried,” he says with noticeable shakiness in his voice.
I don’t know what to say. I honestly don’t want to think back on it. I don’t want to commit any of the details or images to memory. My broken mind is too full of them already. The only way for me to move forward is to forget.
“I’ll be fine.” I look to Leo’s face. He’s slowly coming back down from the painful place I put him in.
“We’ll be down the hall if you need us,” Mom says before kissing my forehead one more time.
My parents seem hesitant to leave, but with my slight smile to them, they make their way to the door and close it behind them.
The moment they’re gone, Leo leans in to kiss me, briefly and with a slight tremble to his lips. “I felt so helpless,” he explains. “I couldn’t save you when you were right in my arms.”
“It’s okay. I’m here now. It’s over.”
“This time is over, but what about the next time? They won’t stop, Morgan. They never do.” He sounds completely dejected. “How can I protect you from memories that never leave you?”
“You can’t.” It’s a simple and painful truth, but it needs to be said. “I’ll have to face these on my own. I’ll get through them, just as I’m sure you’ve got through your own all these years. I saw you during your nightmares back at our apartment. I tried to comfort you through them. You’ll just have to do the same for me, and we’ll hope for the best.”
Leo leans his forehead against mine. I wish I could make him understand that despite what I’ve been through, I’ve tried to remain strong. I have my moments of weakness, but my overall resolve is stronger than ever. It won’t be an easy road, but I’ll get down it. We’ll walk its treacherous path together.
I tilt my head up just enough to kiss Leo softly on the lips. I can feel the cautiousness with which he accepts my gesture. When I pull back, I see that he looks disappointed in himself. He’s acting as if he failed me, and I quickly realize that the only thing that will make him feel better is to let him comfort me. He wants to be my protector.
“Hold me?” I ask quietly, and Leo raises his eyebrows at me. “I’m going to try to sleep again, but I need to feel your arm around me. I want you to hold on to me and your baby.”
Leo nods and helps me back down to the bed and against my pillow. He turns off the lamp on the nightstand before climbing under the covers, pulling himself closely against me until his entire body is spooning mine. His arm reaches around my side until his hand rests comfortably on the round portion of my belly. His warmth and touch help to put me at ease.
I take a trick from Leo’s book, taking deep breaths for him to hear and feel so that he can match his breathing to my own. Within minutes I can feel him relax into me fully, and with the deep breaths and the comfort and protection I feel under his touch, it doesn’t take long for sleep to find me again, without nightmares this time.
20
Her Compassion
∞
She knows me well.
Better than myself.
She sees in me what I am blind to,
helps me find my way,
keeps me grounded,
alive and reaching.
But something holds me back.
Deep inside it remains,
hidden but not forgotten,
eating away at me.
I must make amends.
∞
The three months I’ve lived with Morgan in this house have been by far the happiest months of my life, and I know they’re only going to get better. Morgan’s increasingly larger belly is our visual reminder that soon we will have even more to love in our lives than just each other. I know the baby is there, that our child is technically already with us and we don’t have to wait until the baby is born to call ourselves parents, but none of it will seem real until I hold the life we created in my arms.
It seems like just yesterday that I felt the baby move within Morgan for the first time, but that was almost two months ago now. She felt the flutters in her belly for a couple weeks before she knew for sure that it was the baby moving inside her. She called to me frantically, and I feared the worst, thinking she had fallen or cut herself or some horrible thing had happened to her, but she just wanted me to feel it.
She threw my hand to the lower part of her belly and rested her hand on top of mine. It started as the tiniest movement felt underneath her skin, but then baby wanted its presence to be known. The next kick was so strong that my entire body jumped at the movement. Morgan and I laughed at the baby’s sudden show of strength, its actions seeming appropriate given its parents and how strong we’ve had to be for so long.
I’m getting more used to sitting still, to staying in one place. Since the moment Mark took me in as a boy, I swear my life has been nothing but going, in a constant state of getting one thing done to move on to the next thing, moving from place to place, never taking a moment to breathe or truly live. I’ve finally had a taste of that in these months with Morgan secluded away from the rest of the world other than occasional visits from her parents and Jack. We’ve been able to relax, to work some of the fear and worry out of our lives, to become closer than we’ve ever been, and I should be happy at both her progress and mine.
So why do I find myself miserable on this day?
Morgan knows me too well. From the moment we rolled out of bed this morning, she could tell something was off with me. I tried to play it off–tiredness, I told her–but I find she’s ready to cut right through my bullshit during breakfast.
“What’s bothering you, Leo? Don’t try to deny it. I know something’s up.”
I poke absentmindedly at the scrambled eggs on my plate. They’re the last of our egg supply until the next time
Robert and Cindy visit, so I should be enjoying them, but I can barely stand the thought of eating right now.
I set down the fork and turn my attention to Morgan and her worried expression. I hesitate a moment, taking in a deep breath before speaking. “Tomorrow. It’s the anniversary of the day Stella died… the day I got her killed.”
Morgan immediately gets down from the stool next to me at the island in the kitchen. She wraps her arms around me from behind as best she can. Her belly sticks out enough that she can’t connect her hands around my midsection anymore. “You didn’t get her killed. You can’t blame yourself, Leo.”
There is comfort to be found in her words, but the guilt I feel inside forms a solid wall that blocks me from it. “I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I do. It’s unavoidable. I was supposed to be there for Stella, but I let her down.” I try to swallow away the tightness in my throat.
“Maybe you need to talk to her,” Morgan suggests.
I turn around within Morgan’s arms to face her. “What are you saying?”
“Visit her grave. Explain how you feel. Tell her you’re sorry and ask for forgiveness.”
“I don’t know if I can.” My eyes dart around the kitchen uneasily. “I haven’t been able to bring myself to visit her grave. I couldn’t even go to the funeral because of the police presence there for Mark while they had him out of prison for the service.”
Morgan’s hands find my face. She grasps me gently but forces me to look in her eyes. “Maybe that’s exactly what you need. Closure. You didn’t get to properly celebrate her life and mourn her passing. She just left you in this world.” Her lips meet mine in a chaste kiss. “Go to her. Take whatever time you need to feel better about this and move forward.”
I immediately shake my head. “I won’t leave you.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I can’t leave you here alone.”
Morgan sighs at me with a slight smile. “I’ll see if Mom and Dad can stay with me. Will that make you feel better?”
Beyond Revenge (The Ransom Series) Page 14
