Eternally Yours: Bliss Series, Book Six

by Hall, Deanndra

  “Yes, sir,” she answers and for the first time, she looks deep into my eyes. “Thank you, sir.”

  “You’re welcome, little one.” I can feel her tense when I lean in, but I drop a soft little kiss on her forehead and I hear her press out a tiny sigh. “Go. Have fun. And thanks, Cirilla.”

  “Yes, sir.” I watch as they climb into Cirilla’s Jeep and wave when they drive away. To my surprise, Rayanna waves back, just the lifting of her hand, but it’s a start.

  I’ve got an hour before I have to meet a non-profit client to try to find their ministry a building. The only day they could meet was Saturday, so I’m glad she has somebody to be with and somewhere to go.

  And I hope she has fun. God knows she’s due some.

  I fight myself all day long, wanting to call Cirilla and see if they’re okay, but I know I shouldn’t. At somewhere around five, Brian calls. “I think the girls are about finished. Want to meet somewhere for dinner?”

  “Sounds good, but let’s keep it casual. I don’t think she’s ready for fine dining yet,” I warn.

  “Got it. Let’s go out to that roadhouse Boone and Melina like. Maybe I should call and invite them to―”

  “No. Bad idea. I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed with a lot of new people right off the bat.”

  I can almost see Brian smile through the phone. “Good call. I think you’ve got this under control, brother.”

  Time for my confession, I suppose. “No. I don’t. I’ve been a fucking mess all day long, wanting to call to make sure she’s okay.”

  “Why? She’s with Cirilla.”

  “Because … The idea of that guy getting out without me knowing and hurting her makes my skin crawl.” There. I said it. I know I’m about to get a laugh out of that from him.

  “You know, we may not know each other that well, but I respect you more every day. You’re a real stand-up kinda guy, Lucien. I appreciate that.”

  I’m dumbfounded. That wasn’t what I expected at all. “Uh, okay. I mean, thanks. That means a lot to me.”

  “I think Ted made a good decision when he passed the torch to you. She’s going to be fine. I can just feel it.” There’s not the slightest hint of sarcasm in his voice. “And by the way, you’re doing a great job. I got a fax about ten minutes ago. The client you met with this morning? They liked the property and they’re taking it. Even though we charge less with our non-profits, your bonus will be healthy, little brother. And you’ve been working one business week. I’m impressed, Lucien, very impressed.”

  “Thank you. I told you before, I want this to work. I’ve been without family too long. If I don’t work out, I’m committed to finding another job here so I can stay close.”

  That finally draws a laugh out of him. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. I can’t afford to get rid of you. I need you. Trish and Sheila are drumming up way more business than I can handle alone, and that’s not what Cirilla’s supposed to be doing, so you’re vital to the growth of the business. That means you’ve got absolutely, positively nothing to worry about.”

  “Thanks. I’m thinking I’ll bank this bonus and wait until I have more, maybe buy something and get out of this craptastic apartment. I’ve been here five days, and that’s long enough to know that I hate it.”

  “I’m betting Zimmer Locations can help you with that!” he says, laughing loudly. “We’ll fix you up!”

  “I bet you will! Hey, shoot me the address of this roadhouse and I’ll meet everybody out there.”

  “Done. See you there,” he says as he hangs up. In less than a minute, I’ve got the address and it’s in my mapping app.

  A roadhouse. Wonder what Rayanna will think about that?

  * * *

  By the time I pull up, Brian’s car is already there, so I park beside it and go on in. He’s got a table in the back corner, and there’s a pretty server already talking to him. “Hey, bud, beer?”

  “Yeah. Hang on.” I pick one out from the list as I’m taking my seat and she scurries off. As soon as she’s gone, I catch Brian’s eye. “And they’re―”

  “About ten minutes out. They got hung up at some shoe store. Women and shoes. I don’t get it.”

  That makes me chuckle. “Hey, a nice pair of stilettos on a long-legged woman and you don’t get it?”

  “Oh, I get that!” he laughs back. “Ah, there they are! Wow!”

  When I turn, I almost fall out of my chair. Cirilla is her usual stunning self, but Rayanna … I barely recognize her. She’s wearing the same clothes she left the house in, but she’s got on some jewelry, plus makeup, and her hair is gorgeous. Brian rises to greet them, but I almost forget my manners and sit there for a bit longer than I should. I finally shoot up and as they kiss hello, I take Rayanna’s hand. “Look at you! Don’t you look beautiful!”

  “Really? Do I look okay, sir? I was afraid you wouldn’t like it,” she whispers, her head down.

  “I love it. You look great. Did you get everything you need?” She nods, and I remember Ted’s admonishment. “Use your words, Rayanna. Did you get everything?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Hungry?”

  “A little. We had a salad for lunch and it was so delicious. I know you said to use your card, sir, but Cirilla insisted on paying for my lunch. I hope that was okay.”

  “That’s perfectly fine, as long as you thanked her appropriately,” I tell her as we settle into our seats.

  “Yes, sir. I sure did. She was so nice to me. And the salon! It was amazing, sir. They had so much nail polish that I had trouble choosing a color, and nice chairs that vibrated, and the lady massaged my legs! It felt so good that I cried. I couldn’t help it.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. Our server will be here in a minute to get your drink. What do you want?”

  “What should I have, sir?”

  I stare directly into her eyes. “Okay, we’ve got to come to an understanding. If you don’t choose something, you’ll go without, because I’m not choosing for you. You can manage to choose something to eat and drink, am I right?”

  She gives me a faint little nod. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. You can have anything, and I do mean anything, off this menu. Don’t worry―I’ll stop you if you get too crazy. Got it?” Her answer to my question is a little giggle. “Good. That’s taken care of. Let’s not have this particular conversation again, okay?”

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” There goes that head again, drooping, with her eyes rotated downward. I’ve got to get her out of that habit.

  “It’s fine. It’s all new for you. You’ll get used to it.”

  As we all sit and chat, I pay close attention. Rayanna says very little, and only when spoken to. I can tell she doesn’t feel comfortable commenting on anything, but I’m going to let that go right now. She’s already under pressure to choose her food, and she’s been exposed to a lot of things today. Maybe just sitting quietly and decompressing is good for her.

  When the server returns with the girls’ drinks―she ordered root beer, which would’ve been the last thing on earth I would’ve thought she’d choose―we start ordering. She surprises me again when she asks for a pork chop with a sweet potato and a salad. I’d just imagined she’d go for a burger. As soon as the words come out of her mouth, she looks up at me, but I give her a warm smile. She wants my approval, and she’s got it.

  “Rayanna, did you have a good time today?” Brian asks when there’s a lull in the conversation.

  “Yes, a very good time. Miss Cirilla was very good to me, and my master was too. He paid for everything for me.”

  “You don’t have to call Cirilla ‘miss.’ Just Cirilla is fine,” Brian instructs. When she looks to me, I nod in agreement.

  “Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir.” That pretty little head drops again, and I feel so helpless.

  “Little one, Master Brian isn’t scolding you. He’s just instructing you. It’s not a big deal. Don’t be embarrassed or ashamed.”


  “Yes, sir,” she mumbles again, never lifting her head.

  I sneak a furtive glance toward Brian to find him looking back at me, and when my gaze shifts to Cirilla, her eyes are sad. This issue will be one I bring up with Ted on Monday at her session.

  “Did you get a lot of pretty things today?” I ask her. It’s torture trying to draw her into the conversation.

  “Yes, sir. I did.”

  “Oooo, Rayanna, tell Master Lucien about the pajamas!” Cirilla says with a grin.

  “I got these pajamas that have cute little cats on them. The pants are pink with little black and white cats on them, and the top is black. It has a little pink bow at the neck, and a picture of a cat on the front. And it says … it says …”

  “What does it say?” I ask.

  “Um, it says, ‘Happiness is a warm, fuzzy pussy.’”

  I can’t help it―I spit beer out my nose, and Cirilla is twittering away across the table. Brian is laughing so hard he’s not making a sound, just wheezing. Then I hear it.

  Rayanna is laughing. It starts as a giggle and goes to a full laugh. The redness disappears from her cheeks, her embarrassment gone when she understands how funny that is, especially coming from her. “Well,” I sputter, “I don’t know about the fuzzy part, but the warm pussy part I’ll go for any day!” I say, wiping my face and laughing.

  “Cirilla thought they were funny,” Rayanna says, her laughter calming.

  “That is pretty funny. They’ll look really cute on you, I’m sure,” I say and pat her hand.

  “Thank you, sir. I hope so.”

  “How’s your sweet potato?”

  “It’s delicious, sir. Thank you for dinner.”

  I lean over and give her a little peck on the cheek before I say, “You’re very welcome, little one.”

  For the rest of the meal, she’s more engaged, more comfortable, and I’m glad. “And I said, ‘Oh, no. Master Lucien will wring my neck if you come back with that in your hair!’” Cirilla says.

  “Yeah, you’d better not show up with green hair!” I quip back and laugh.

  “But it was pretty green!” Rayanna says, laughing. “I thought it would look good with my eyes!”

  “You have beautiful eyes. You don’t need green hair to make your eyes look good,” I tell her and watch her blush again, but she’s smiling at the same time. I feel like we’ve accomplished something very important. She’s becoming comfortable with my brother, my sister-in-law, and me. It’s like watching a rose bud opening in the first morning light. Her face is brighter, her voice lighter, and even her eyes are smiling. You can’t fall for this woman, I remind myself, then think of her challenge.

  Fall in love with me. Make me fall in love with you. Would that be so horrible? I’m less than forty-eight hours in. It’s going to take much longer for me to answer that question.

  Chapter Three

  It takes us twenty minutes to carry everything she and Cirilla bought from the trunk and back seat of my car into the house. I can’t imagine what’s in all these bags. Looks like they cleared out at least two major department stores, a shoe store, and a couple of boutiques. If she leaves after six weeks, at least she’ll go in style.

  “Do you want me to show you everything we bought, sir?” she asks as soon as we get it all inside.

  “Can we do that tomorrow? I’m kinda tired. It’s been a long day.” I don’t dare tell her that the worst part of it was the constant nagging worry I felt while she was gone.

  “Yes, sir. It’s totally up to you, sir. What should I do now?”

  “I don’t know what you’re going to do, but I’m going to get ready for bed and maybe read a little before I go to sleep. Did you stop at the art supply store like I asked you to?”

  “Yes, sir! Can I show you what I got? Oh, I’m sorry. You don’t want to do that tonight,” she says, and I can hear the disappointment in her voice.

  “Tell you what. How about we get ready for bed and then when we get in bed, you can show me what you got. How’s that?” I ask and smooth a strand of hair back from her face.

  “Yes, sir. That’s good. Okay. Can I wear some of my new pajamas?”

  I look around at all the bags and boxes. “I dunno. Can you even find them in all this stuff?”

  She glances at all the packages and giggles. “Um, I’m not sure!”

  “Then just wear one of my old tee shirts and we’ll take care of all that tomorrow. I’m going to brush my teeth and get ready for bed. Do you want to go first?”

  “Nah. That’s okay, sir, but thank you. I’ll find my coloring books and stuff while you get ready.” She’s already busy rifling through all the sacks, picking them up and turning them around, peering down inside them, then moving to the next one. She’s still shuffling through them when I head to the bathroom.

  I come out to find a bag on the bed and I can hear her in the living room, still prowling around. “I’m done!” I sing out.

  “Okay, sir! Thank you!” As she walks through the bedroom on her way to the bathroom, she drops a small bag on the bed and keeps going. I just grab one of my magazines and settle in under the covers, reading about one of the latest diagnostic tests available to counseling professionals looking to define autistic tendencies in otherwise non-spectrum patients. It’s really fascinating information, but I can see where it could be totally misused to the detriment of the patient.

  She comes out stark naked again just like the night before. One thing I’ll say for her―being treated the way she was has left her totally uninhibited. She might have trouble looking me in the eye and talking to me, but she has no trouble being undressed in front of me. “Did you want me to get one of your tee shirts, sir?”

  “You can if you want. They’re in the closet all the way in the back on the right.”

  I watch as she goes to the closet and rummages around, then pulls one out. “How’s this one, sir?” she asks, holding up my old university tee.

  “Fine. Just fine. Now come sit with me. And bring your hairbrush with you.” She scampers back into the bathroom and in seconds, she’s back, climbing into my king bed and pulling the covers up as she leans back into the pillows. “Now show me your art supplies.”

  From the bag she pulls five adult coloring books. One is flower themed and another is all birds. There’s a third that’s butterflies and other insects. The fourth surprises me―it’s fairies, and her face and voice are very animated as she talks about it, flipping the pages for me to look at them. “And this one looks a bit like my little girl,” she says, her finger caressing a black and white drawing of a fairy child.

  “Very pretty,” I reply, not wanting to get into that conversation at this particular moment.

  She places the book on the bed covers almost reverently, then picks up the last one. It’s spiral bound, unlike the others. “Oh! Fractals!” I say, not even thinking.

  “I thought they were pretty, but I don’t know what that means. What’s a fractal?”

  How to explain it … “A fractal is a pattern that repeats, and sometimes it gets bigger or smaller. You know how they put bricks down to make walkways, with two going this way and two going that?” I ask, using the first two fingers of both hands to illustrate.

  “Oh yeah! That’s a fractal?”

  “A very simple one, but yes―it is.”

  “Cool. Thank you, sir. I like learning about things like that. Did you learn that in college?”

  “Actually, I learned it in high school geometry class. We did calculations on fractals. Pretty interesting stuff.”

  “I bet. I didn’t …” And she stops.

  I just wait. Finally, I ask, “You didn’t what?”

  I watch her cheeks turn scarlet and her head drops again. “I didn’t get to go to high school.”

  Oh. My. God. There’s little that makes me angrier than finding out someone was denied a simple, basic education. “Why didn’t you get to go to high school?”

  “My mama kept moving us around f
rom one man to another. Then when I was sixteen, she gave me to this guy she knew. He was my first master.”

  There’s a fury rising in my chest, a blaze that will be hard to put out. “And no one enrolled you in high school?”

  “I think they lost track of me, sir. No one was looking out for me. But I had food and a dry place to sleep, so that’s something, right?” she says, looking away.

  “Rayanna? Look at me.” When she finally turns her head and I can catch her gaze, I smile. “If you want to get your GED, I’ll help you. We can make that happen.”

  Her lower lip trembles when she asks, “You would do that?”

  “I most certainly would. Do you know what I did before I came here?” She shakes her head. “I was a high school guidance counselor.” Her eyes go wide. “Yeah. Me. I was. For years and years.”

  “Why did you stop?”

  “The truth?” She nods. “The teenage girls got so sexually aggressive that I started being afraid to have them in my office. One of them came onto me at least once every two weeks. It was pretty scary because if any of them accused me of anything inappropriate, losing my job was the least of my worries. I could’ve gone to jail. I decided the risk was just too great and when Brian invited me to his wedding, he offered me this job. And here I am.”

  “Wow, sir. That’s awful. I bet you were a good guidance counselor. I mean, I don’t know what they do, but I think counseling maybe?”

  “That, yes, but mostly college counseling, helping them fill out paperwork for admissions, and helping kids who were in trouble finish school.”

  “Trouble?”

  “Yeah, like trouble with the law. Helping them get their community service in as the court stipulated and still have class time. Helping some of them get into alternative education when they couldn’t stay in school, like if they had a baby or a parent died and they had to help the family out.”