A couple of photos sat on a round-top table below the window. She walked over to them. One in particular drew her. She picked it up and studied the three people contained within. Turning toward Mark who stood at the doorway, she asked, “Your dad?”
He nodded with a bittersweet smile.
“You were cute waaaay back then too.” She cast him a smirk.
Her comment had the noticeable, positive effect of lifting his expression.
“Only child?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, me too.”
She looked at the photo for a moment longer before setting it back down.
He looks a lot like his dad.
“I thought you had a sister?”
She looked at him, his face registering confusion.
“Oh. Right. Let’s just say I didn’t have the greatest home life when I was younger. I’m … sort of adopted.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. Life is so much better now. They love me. I love them. It’s a thing.”
He nodded with a smile.
She turned and looked at the print of an oil painting above his mom’s bed. Again, tasteful. Quaint. The scene of springtime in a small town, flowers adorning porches and planters. A couple walking hand in hand along the street.
Nice.
She realized that there were no photos from her own camera anywhere to be seen. The woman had the ability to separate her comfort from her profession. Elizabeth liked her, just based on the bedroom alone.
She walked back to Mark.
As she reached him and he was moving out of her way so she could reenter the hall, she lifted herself up on her toes and kissed his left cheek.
He smiled and remained quiet.
Again, he took the lead to another room on the same side of the hall as his mother’s. The door was closed. Upon opening it, another somewhat musty scent emanated from within.
Elizabeth remained in the hallway but leaned her head into the room in order to see the whole space. It was being used for storage. Several packing boxes were stacked along the left wall and appeared to have remained unopened since the time they were packed. A couple pieces of furniture were near the window, one a beautiful Brentwood rocker.
“A lot of unopened boxes,” she said quietly.
“A lot of Dad’s stuff, I imagine.”
“Will you go through all of it?”
“I imagine so. I am curious about how much of his past is in there. He passed about eleven years ago. Mom had tried to make a go of it in the large house that they’d owned, but eventually it just became too overwhelming with all of the upkeep. I’m sure it made her feel lonely too.”
“Yet she decided to move to another state and be alone out in the country?”
“Yes, but this was an aloneness of her own making. Believe it or not, she loved it. She was always a bit of an introvert anyway. She could handle being alone as long as she had something she could do that she enjoyed.”
“Photography and crafts,” said Elizabeth, almost absentmindedly.
Mark reached for the doorknob and pulled it closed.
“One last room.”
He saved it for last, didn’t he?
Elizabeth felt adrenaline and uncertainty take over her insides. The tips of her fingers began tingling with anxiousness.
The door was just on the other side of the hallway. He opened it.
It was a bedroom. As she had suspected.
Mark walked in, but she intentionally remained at the doorway.
“Guest bedroom. Hasn’t been used much. I used it the few times I visited. Even spent the night here one time when I came to meet the realtor.”
She just nodded.
Mark looked her in the eyes. She saw a softness in his.
“It’s okay,” he said. “You don’t have to come in.”
I don’t have to. But I want to know.…
She swallowed hard, while trying to mask it from Mark, and stepped in.
The room was neither masculine nor feminine in its decoration. Elizabeth was sure it had been purposely decorated in such a way to allow any guest to feel comfortable.
It had a warmth to it that made it welcoming.
Another full-size bed, a four-drawer chest, and a recliner rounded out the larger pieces in the room. There was a nightstand, upon which sat a clock and a box of tissues. Under the window was another small table, this one square. There were a few “antiquey” knick-knacks on it, including an old cowbell and a pair of old-fashioned knitting needles. The items surrounded a plain-cover book.
The book was enough of an excuse to cross the room with an air of confidence that she didn’t have. It was a distraction for herself, so she wouldn’t realize or feel the impact of what she was doing—or what she was maybe hoping would happen—in there.
There was no dust jacket. So, taking the book in hand, she looked at the print on the spine.
“A Tale of Two Cities,” Mark said. “Mom loved the classics and thought everyone else should too.”
“Never read it.”
“Me either,” he said, with humor in his voice.
“It’s a nice home. I can see why she liked it here.”
“Do you want to go back downstairs?”
Immediately, Elizabeth knew his question was intentionally loaded, pregnant with suggestion. The ball—the decision of what would happen next—had just landed squarely on her side of the court.
Chapter 60
T
his was it. Everything, from the discovery of what city she worked in, to the development of a believable false identity to meet her, to the drive to his mom’s house—all of it—had been carefully orchestrated from step to next step for this moment in his life.
She would either decide to stay upstairs in the bedroom or she would balk and let him know that she’d prefer to go back downstairs and maybe back to his car.
What if she did decide she wanted to leave? Would he just let her? Would he do the unthinkable and restrain her and enjoy her without her permission? Did he have that kind of coldness in his heart?
But he’d come too far to just walk away from it. Hadn’t he? He wanted to experience her, and he wanted it to be right now.
The several seconds it took before she cautiously answered his question was excruciating.
“I don’t mind being up here for a little while,” Elizabeth said.
The words she spoke did not come easily for her. She was very unsure. But he had just been given the permission that he’d hoped for.
I’m going to get to be with her! Touch her. Enjoy her.
He tried not to show how excited he was.
He didn’t want this to turn into just a physical act for the satisfaction of his libido; he wanted her tenderness and her caring heart. He wanted her to feel like she was in love. He wanted her to want him.
But what he wanted most was for her to give herself desirously to him in every way.
He wanted all of it.
It wasn’t a given, though. He still had to play the gentleman.
“If, at any point—” he began.
“It’s okay, Mark.” She looked him in the eyes. “I know what I’m doing. I know what I want too. I don’t want you to.…” Her sentence trailed off.
She seemed stuck for words, but he wanted the remainder of her thought.
“You don’t want me to…?” he prompted.
“I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something … you know … wrong.”
He needed to say what she was thinking. And he needed to hear her words in response. They would add to the reality of what he’d fantasized about for so long.
“Wrong? Because you’re sixteen?”
She nodded. “Yes. Because I’m only a girl.”
Adrenaline spike!
He drank in her words. He couldn’t let her know that her age was her greatest attraction, but he could
make her feel as comfortable as possible.
Drew approached her. He reached up to the right side of her face. Her brown hair was beautiful and begged to be touched. His fingers combed her hair to her back, and he brought his palm softly to her face, his thumb caressing her cheek.
Her eyes closed, and he could hear her breathing becoming heavy. She trembled beneath his touch.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered. “You are a woman—an amazingly well-spoken, beautiful, and warm-hearted woman.”
Her lips parted as she drew in a deep breath.
“I’m shaking. I’m sorry,” she said, a quaver in her voice.
He laughed softly. “I know.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him, the beginnings of a smile forming. “Stop it,” she said bashfully. “This is … it’s emotional for me.”
Drew nodded, returning her smile.
“This is real, right?” she asked. “I’m not dreaming?” Again, she responded to his touch with closed eyes.
“This is real for both of us,” he said.
“I want this to be real. I … I know it can’t last. I mean, I know that. But for right now, I need it to be … I don’t have the words to say what I want … to communicate what’s going on inside of me.”
Then she did, and she voiced the words even as two tears barely clung to her eyelids.
“Please, don’t hurt me, Mark,” she said with a whisper. “Please, let this be love that we just aren’t allowed to hold onto.”
She looked into his eyes, her own pleading with him—begging him—to speak to her fear in the right way.
“I’ve been hurt before, Mark. Badly.”
Drew hadn’t expected this. This wasn’t part of the plan and certainly not something he wanted to hear. This was supposed to be the fulfillment of a fantasy. It wasn’t supposed to become clingy in either direction.
“I.…” he began.
“I just need to believe, Mark. Please, let me believe. I can handle passion and the loss of your love, but not sex followed by a cold shoulder and hard words. Please. I know I’m only a girl. I know I don’t measure up to all the beautiful women who know more and who are more. I just need to believe before you say goodbye.”
An unexpected ache developed within Drew’s chest, alongside a heavy dose of conscience. He thought he’d gotten past that.
How would he—how could he—just dismiss her so easily as merely a sexual victory? How could he even want to now?
She didn’t deserve what he wanted to do, to use her then get on with his life.
He was taken aback by a startling fact: She wasn’t the Internet play toy that he thought he’d meet. She was simply a girl making the same wasteful mistakes online that he was.
Drew lowered his hand from her face and walked two steps to the end of the bed where he sat down. He looked down at the floor, feeling anguish rise in his heart.
A few seconds later, he saw Elizabeth’s feet appear as she maneuvered to sit next to him.
She leaned into his left side.
They both sat silently. Drew could already feel the effects of his testosterone ebbing.
“I feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” whispered Drew.
“Are you?” she asked, without a hint of accusation in her voice.
He kept his face toward the rug on which their feet were planted. He didn’t know how to respond or what to do. He could continue to lie and play out the fantasy, or he could let her out of his web.
He was about to respond when Elizabeth said something remarkable.
“I want this, Mark. And I want you. You have given me every reason to trust being with you like this. I’ve seen your eyes on me; they’ve been both playful and heartfelt.”
She paused, reflecting on something.
“Forgive me for trying to pin you down with my emotional needs,” she said. “If you don’t love me, I’ll get over it. This time, I don’t feel like I’m being made to do something I don’t think I want. This time, I see what I want, and it’s you.
“You don’t have to feel exactly the same way. I think you do, though, a little bit. That’s why I want this experience with you. I think I could keep this memory in my heart forever. It’ll feel like love this time, not like I’m being used for fun. I’ve got control, and I feel safe.
“Trust me, this is a whole lot better than my first experience. I’ve matured enough since then to know that.”
Drew was experiencing full-blown guilt and depression now. His head sagged farther, and his shoulders slumped.
It was a hellish feeling to still want to do something with reckless abandon while caring for the heart of the one whose life he’d be tarnishing forever.
I’m a pedophile. I’m a pedophile wanting what every other pedophile wants.
It was the very first time he’d been willing to apply the moniker to himself. The confession filled him with self-revulsion.
Elizabeth leaned upward and clasped his left earlobe gingerly between her teeth. He felt the heat of her breath in his ear. His heart began to race again.
“I want you,” she whispered.
Drew wanted to scream! What was he supposed to do, push her away?
He could not tell her that all of this was part of a calculated plan to get her into bed, nor could he make her feel rejected after she’d walked what had to have been an unsettling path to trust him.
He knew she was afraid. He knew that she might be doing this so that he didn’t feel bad.
“I want you, Mark,” she said again, her voice a bit sultry.
She sounded like a woman. She sounded like his wife had in their early years together. It had been good with her. His whole life had been good.
Before the pornography. He was glad there had been no children and especially glad that when he’d been caught looking at it, it had been nothing illegal.
He couldn’t believe his thoughts had, again, come down to stone-cold logic instead of the passion he was hoping to experience just moments ago.
Drew turned to look at her. There was fire in her eyes and a coy smile that seemed to dare him to respond to her playful taunting.
He knew that the quick change in her facial expression was a response to the sadness that was encroaching upon his own face.
It was time to come clean. Sort of.
JAMIE WAS PENSIVE. It was just about 7:50 p.m., and he knew that Elizabeth wouldn’t be home until around 9:30. It felt like a long time to wait.
He wanted to talk with her. Nothing intense, just find out how she was doing, how life was for her.
He was sure that everyone else had the same aim, but his heart had been growing so.… The only word he could think of was a word his grandma used: fond.
My heart is growing so fond of her.
He knew it was more, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it. Not yet. Not unless he saw something like that coming from her too.
She already knows I have feelings for her. Thanks a bunch for that, Jenna.
He shook his head, still not loving that his sister had clued Elizabeth in.
The time with his family, just a short while ago in the living room, had raised a lot more questions than it had answered. In fact, it had answered no questions at all.
All they had was a lot of speculation.
Could there be something dangerous that was about to happen in Elizabeth’s life? Sure.
Could demons and angels be involved? Yeah, of course.
Like his dad had said, there was certainly no harm in praying about something that was never going to be an issue. People prayed as a result of irrational fear all the time. No harm. No foul.
It was also possible that, if something dangerous was going to happen in Elizabeth’s life, the prayer they’d just lifted up had already eradicated it completely.
That was the thing about prayer—you couldn’t see it go up and you couldn’t see the response get sent out.
Jamie turned to lean against the arm of the couch, a pillow behind him. He lifted his bare feet onto the cushions just inches away from Jenna.
“Eww. Get your feet away from me! I don’t want your scuzziness!”
Her comment was the perfect remedy for his dour mood.
He laughed. “Scuzziness? Did you get that word from Mom?”
She gave him a rather put-out look. “Just move them.”
Jamie pulled them back a few inches.
“What do you think about the angels and demons thing?” he asked.
“Got me. Gotta admit, though, the puzzle pieces seem to be fitting together. Dad’s thoughts that the other players from his Kentucky dreams could be involved, like Elizabeth, Kyle, and Jason … it kinda makes sense.”
“Yeah, I get that. It’s still a stretch though. And what about Mom’s idea that Elizabeth might have to go through some sort of life-or-death decision?”
“I’m sure hoping that isn’t true. My guess is that, if she was going to deal with that, it would have been when she found out she was pregnant and didn’t know what to do about it.”
“I’m thinking the same thing.”
Jamie stared at his feet for a moment, lost in thought.
“What are Mom and Dad doing?” he asked abruptly.
“I don’t know. Upstairs doing something.”
“Don’t be gross.”
“What? Eww! Jamie!” She smacked his leg.
He snickered.
Chapter 61
Y
ou need to know,” Mark began, “that I started having ‘What if?’ moments not long after we met. When I hurt your feelings at the diner, I found that I wanted to give you something to make your heart happy and make you feel better about me. The actual ‘What-ifs’ began to form in my mind when I was photographing you at that park.”
Elizabeth was taking it in. Was he confessing lust or something else?
“I saw something in you that I wanted. Something I was starved for.”
“What?” she asked, before he could continue on his own.
“The way you made me feel. And the funny thing is that you weren’t doing anything to intentionally do that. You made me feel bigger than life, important … altruistic.”
That Dark Place Page 34
