Cavanaugh

by Jody Kaye

  “Thank you, Lathan.”

  “I haven’t already overstepped my bounds?” His whisper brushed by her ear as he pushed Rose’s chair in.

  The intimacy startled her, but Rose ignored it. “Not at all,” she teased back, hiding that the glow in her skin was brought on by a memory. Rose decided that she should include the way Ross had made her feel in her repertoire of expressions. She was here to play a part. From now on, the blush color in her cheeks was an act to make others believe in her sincere appreciation for a compliment. She’d invoked the way her stomach fluttered and that unusual sense of shyness overtook her whenever she’d catch Ross watching her.

  Lathan and Rose sat across from one another at the table making comfortable, contrived conversation. She bumped his leg once by accident when crossing her ankles. A dimple appeared as he accepted her quiet apology. Rose listened with rapt attention, especially when the topic turned to business, and—when the men insisted that their dialogue must be boring her—supplied polite and insufferable answers to their insipid feminine questions. She went as far to bring up how much she enjoyed cooking because it was the truth. She left out that it was who she’d been cooking for that made the task so enjoyable.

  By the time the waiter served dessert, Rose felt especially proud of her behavior. Pretending to be someone she wasn’t hadn’t been too bad. Throughout the meal, the men were pleasant and enamored with her domesticity and breeding. She wondered if this was how Cathy Ames won over Adam Trask. Her mind wandered to the pages of East of Eden. Rose read Ross’s dog-eared copy twice. Poking through the novel to re-read the places she loved the best. Rose frowned, wondering if her own soul was as malformed as Cathy’s was and if someday she’d evolve into a monstrous persona similar to Kate Albey’s.

  “It could be worse, your dog could have actually died,” Lathan said.

  “I’m sorry. What was that?”

  Rose reached across the table for her wine glass, replenishing her liquid courage.

  “You looked like your dog died when our fathers’ announced they were excusing themselves for cigars and port in the library. On any other night I’d join them, but this evening with you, Rose, has been delightful. It’s not often that I’m dragged along for a business meeting with such beautiful company.”

  “It’s not often that I’m dragged along for a business dinner with anyone quite as complimentary.”

  “You’re not what I’d expected. Midge remarked that you—”

  “You know the Midgetts?” She cut him off.

  “Former roommate at boarding school back east. However,” Lathan tapped Rose’s nose, “for as large as Texas is, the oil business is also incestuously small.”

  She hummed a sort of agreement and found herself doing that huff-smile that lacked a laugh. His touch was disparaging, bordering on insulting.

  “How about we go for a walk? It’s a nice enough evening out. What do you say, Rose?”

  “The warmth today was gratifying, wasn’t it. Soon enough the holidays will be upon us.”

  Rose allowed Lathan to pull out her chair and help her from her seat. She needed to keep up appearances. He took her hand, leading her out a side door toward the links.

  “Are you a golfer, Rose?”

  “I’ve played, but it’s Eric’s, I mean, my daddy’s game.”

  “I’ve loved it since I was a kid, even tagged along with the pros at our club. Learned a great deal from them.” Lathan rubbed his nose.

  Rose ignored the quick snort he made. She too had preferred the company of the club employees long before her letter stealing days.

  They wandered through the manicured hedges, closer to the green space making small talk. The parking lot lights on the closed golf course threw a yellow cast on the first tee.

  “I relish a view like this. Is it childish to ask you to sit with me?” Lathan asked.

  “I don’t think so. Your suit may need to go to the cleaner after.”

  Lathan ignored her womanish remark and tugged at her elbow for Rose to join him. She sat down at the edge of a crisp shadow, tucking her legs to the side under the hem of her skirt, whereas Lathan was cross-legged. Rose noticed the vibrant pink contrast of the fabric at her knees versus the claret wine-like color the bodice had taken on.

  “I like you, Rose. I’d like to see you again.”

  “Me too.”

  The things that Lathan did that bothered Rose were far less than any of the other men Eric paraded by her. Lord knew Rose had faults. She should learn to look past others’.

  Lathan kissed her. His lips were slow, teasing out the frustrations Rose kept locked inside. It felt like forever since she was kissed. She arched toward Lathan when his hand cupped her breast. He laid her back, their bodies hidden by the silhouettes of the squared conifers.

  Rose reveled in the long-awaited touch of a man until she felt the hem of her dress slide up past her knees. She shimmied trying to get herself out from under Lathan and he relented, for a moment looking at her as if to acknowledge that it was too soon for whatever was happening between them. Instead of pushing her legs apart, he used his to squeeze hers together. It made Rose relax. Lathan trailed his lips down her neck and the liquid feeling came over her once more.

  “You can’t leave me wanting you like this, Rose.”

  Rose’s breath quickened as Lathan kissed the vee where her cleavage met under her bodice. She closed her eyes as his lower half moved, expecting that they’d right their clothing and return to meet their respective fathers under the false pretense that nothing illicit whatsoever had gone on. Rose hoped that she didn’t have clippings in her chignon. Much to Eric’s eventual satisfaction, the night had gone better than Rose expected. As long as she did nothing to embarrass him everything was fine.

  But Lathan leaned onto his knees. The weight of his bones pinched the skin of Rose’s upper arms to the bed of grass. He undid his fly, wrenching her neck up at an ungainly angle so that her face collided with his groin. The zipper scratched her face and the tip of his erection hit her nose causing a tingle in her sinuses. Her eyes began to water.

  “Take it,” he demanded, using his thumb to pry open the side of her mouth. The nail on his finger scraped the inside of her cheek. Rose sucked back air, squirming underneath, kicking her legs and trying to knee Lathan in the back.

  “Open your fucking mouth.” Rose heard him swear, with arrogant confidence. His dick hit back of her throat. She gagged. Her lips circling around his member on reflex as Lathan wrapped his palm around the base of his erection and fisted her blond hair. He began pushing and pulling Rose’s head roughly forward and back. Bile pitched, stinging its way back down her esophagus and making Rose choke.

  “I knew those pretty lips were good for more than talking.”

  He caught her shocked brown eyes with a venomous stare and forced himself into her hard as if it proved his point. She hadn’t done anything. He was the one directing the movement and her reactions were nothing more than discomfort. His pleasure came from hurting her.

  Her face, skull, neck, shoulders, and arms ached from pinching pain and the awkward angles.

  Her fingers clawed toward the fabric at his thighs. The way Lathan pinned Rose down stopped her from being able to scrape or hurt him to make him stop. The more she struggled the more Lathan got off; holding her face to the juncture of his thighs and pinching her nose with the fat thumb he’d held his dick steady with until she couldn’t breathe. Repeating it, drool fell from Rose’s mouth as she tried to catch a breath.

  The idea that this crippling feeling was how an abused animal felt filtered through her dark thoughts. The idea of dying, the freedom and release that it brought was effervescent. She understood that yes, people did beg for death and why.

  Lathan stopped watching what he was doing to Rose and tossed his shoulders back, looking up at the sky. When he wrenched her head back to do it a second time, Rose’s teeth scraped against his shaft. Adrenaline spiked through her and she clamped down.
Lathan let out a sharp cry.

  Rose felt the pressure on her arms release. The toe of his wing-tip kicked her wrist as she struggled free, sending shooting pain up to her elbow. Lathan fell back, losing his balance. His ass hit her lower stomach.

  “You bitch!” In a fluid motion, he grabbed his injured cock and slapped Rose across the face so hard that she threw up.

  Knowing that this was her only chance, Rose didn’t stop to wipe the vomit away. She sat up to hit him in the solar plexus as his knuckles landed in her rib cage. Neither hit was all that effective, except Rose proved to Lathan that she’d strike back. He scrambled off of her. She rolled to stand and he landed a kick to her gut.

  “Your daddy’s holding company better be worth this shit.”

  Lathan’s pants hung loose at his thighs. He winced, clutching the family jewels while yanking the fabric over his bare hips. A determined scowl crossed his brow as he touched his belt buckle. The leather flew out of the loops at his waist.

  “Teach you a God damn lesson in how to act like a lady,” he seethed, folding the belt in half.

  Still on the ground trying to catch her breath after the kick to her midsection, Rose began creeping away. She was spitting, drooling the contents of her stomach tinged with blood from where her molars had cut into the soft flesh inside her cheek from the stinging slap. Her jaw ached. Her head throbbed. She felt welling scratch marks on the back of her neck and up into her hairline from where Lathan had gripped her scalp. Eyes open or closed she saw nothing but darkness broken by dizzying spots. Tears had begun to glue her lashes together, making the heavy black clump and run. She wiped her face with the back of her hand smudging mascara across her face.

  She hadn’t had time to congratulate herself for chomping down, and now it was evident that she should have bitten harder. Lathan was still coming after her. She wasn’t sure if he’d rape her, but the power he’d no doubt felt while forcing himself on her justified that if he had the chance to pin her down again, he’d take it. Lathan was the kind of sadist that used his own injury as a source of pleasure.

  And if he couldn’t get it up? Rose was sure that he’d continue to beat her. The feral look she’d seen in his brown eyes meant that Lathan wasn’t going to stop until he tore her to pieces. His sum gain was leaving her broken.

  More alone than she’d ever been, Rose began crying in earnest. Her own father had done this to her. Unknowing or not, Eric had placed her in this trap. After tonight Rose would no longer simply be playing along. She’d be at her father’s mercy. All because Eric introduced Rose to the man who violated her. No good husband brings home a wife missing soft petals.

  Nothing prepared her for the snap of his belt across her back. Her elbows took the weight of her body as she crouched low to the grass. A second whip landed in an x over the first. Rose screamed as heat radiated through the thin fabric of her dress.

  “Who’s over there?” She made out another man’s voice in the distance.

  The third strike slid from the side. The impact of the blow softened by whoever had called out.

  “Help.” The words slid out. She needed this to stop, but she didn’t want anyone to find her. How would she ever explain?

  Sets of footfalls echoed. Lathan’s loafers squeezed on the grass beside her. His leg’s straddled her body, crushing painfully into her sides. He used the belt like a noose, wrapping it around her neck and pulling back.

  “You tell anyone about this and I’ll tell your father that I fucked you. That you wanted it because bitches like you like men holding them down. You asked me to hurt you. You like it rough. Who’s Eric going believe, huh? Me or the daughter who embarrasses him in public? We’re not done, Rose. Next time you’ll behave, or it will be worse.”

  She believed him. For as much as Lathan gleaned from Midgett, he’d spew to other young men. No self-respecting, honest man would want a wife whose virtue flowed as easy as the river of rumors spread about her bad behavior. Not even for Eric’s monetary temptations.

  Out of choices, Rose saw herself married to Lathan—a blur of years of abuse she’d never escape.

  The belt loosed and Lathan stepped to the side. Rose trembled, afraid to breathe. One final snap caught her scalp by her right ear.

  Lathan walked off. Doubled over, Rose scampered to the edge of the fairway into the darkness.

  It seemed like forever passed and no one came in this direction. Then Lathan’s voice broke the peepers nighttime chirping.

  “Hi, How’re y’all doing tonight? I found a club laying near the hole right there and was practicing my swing. Let it go by accident and the thing went flying. Can’t even tell you where it landed. Surprised the heck out of me when it did. I apologize for the yelling.”

  He was lying already that he’d done this. Covering it all up. He’d tell Eric a horrible lie about her and her father would side with Lathan. What he’d said was true. Rose tended that reputation. The only one to blame for the wild persona she’d created was herself.

  Rose turned, bolting into the woods.

  In the darkness, the banks of trees lining the fairway helped hide her from view. She ran until her legs couldn’t carry her anymore, stopping to catch herself on a trunk. Her hand sizzled against the bark. With surprised confusion, she looked at the cut on her palm covered in dirt. It hadn’t hurt until now. Rose clutched the tree using it to steady herself. She leaned against the trunk and slid down, ignoring the burning sensation of satin against the seared flesh on her back. Her knees were filthy and the hem of her dress had torn.

  A weed near her foot sprouted a colorful blossom shining in the moonlight that danced between the evergreen boughs. Unafraid of the thorns pricking her fingertips as she feared from her namesake, she picked the delicate flower similar to a buttercup. Hurt pierced somewhere deep inside as the faces of all the boys who’d once cared for her with consideration came to her mind.

  Those unworthy boys. The ones she never let herself fall for because Eric wouldn’t allow it. Given the chance, she saw herself loving each of them. She’d seen several of them since, settled down with children. They lived happily in ramshackled old trailers or little houses on the outskirts of town. It showed in the expressions on their faces when they spoke and the way one held his daughter’s hand. They’d all moved on. They hadn’t need of her to lead a good life.

  Rose recalled the unbiased smile a former beau’s wife gave when he’d introduced her. There was no jealousy. Only unabashed happiness. Rose had wished them the best, coveting the relationship, yet not the man.

  Just as Rose loved no one, no one loved her back. It was sad because she did have a heart, a broken one. Mending the pieces cost more than all the money in the world.

  The only men who wanted Rose’s trust fund already had one of their own. Greed was a strange bedfellow.

  She limped shoeless through the underbrush. Everything hurt so nothing did. Near the county road, she saw the sign reminding her that Kingsbrier was two miles farther. There was a gas station where the roads curved, but Rose kept walking at the inside edge of the woods remaining invisible to passersby. She’d left her purse at the country club. It proved her stupidity. Not that she’d stop to call a cab while looking like a disheveled mess.

  Reaching the edge of the ranch, Rose came up on the manse from behind. Lights glowed from every room in the Tudor except hers and Eric’s. She knew no one was home. Looks were deceiving.

  Rose used the hidden back door to the summer kitchen to get in, swiftly moving through the terra cotta kitchen on tired legs. She scribbled on a notepad on the foyer table saying she was ill and not to disturb her. It was close enough to whatever lie Lathan spewed over her disappearance to ensure Eric believed him. Her father didn’t care or he’d have come searching for Rose.

  The grand staircase seemed insurmountable and once Rose reached the landing she paused looking at that ornate front entrance. The room seemed to be waiting for sun to stream in the high windows and for the door to swing open. Was th
is what a spirit felt after decades with no graveside visitors?

  Rose had stopped visiting her mother’s tomb. It was an ugly monument that Eric erected in Joy’s honor. Was Joy as lonely for Rose’s company? Did her mother miss her? Was she too trapped in the memory of how grand Kingsbrier once was?

  Joy’s death was a diverging path. The life they’d led petering out into what could’ve been… the absolute worst part of grieving.

  Now Rose saw the mansion’s death, understanding there would never be a living place called Kingsbrier again. It brought the loss of her mother full circle. Yet, her choices were daunting: Follow a steady course, unloved and unwelcome, relying on her father’s false generosity until Lathan, or a man like him, drove Rose to the bottle enduring her own slow demise for decades. Or walk away from the dream of who she should have been. She wasn’t sure how to give everything up and start over someplace where, maybe in ten years’ time, she’d smile at her husband’s former girlfriend, content and loved simply for being Rose.

  “I’m asking again: What do you want, Mr. Cavanaugh?” A single brown eye poked out between the door and its casing.

  It sunk in that Rose was his new neighbor and the idea of introducing himself was a silly notion. Ross wasn’t sure how to answer her question. “Can you let me in?”

  “No.”

  “Will you come out?”

  “No.” She hadn’t, unless it was necessary for days.

  Quiet as a church-mouse, Rose had packed her things. She’d found her purse next to the note she left Eric on the foyer table as she left the mansion the following morning. For sanity’s sake, she’d needed somewhere to hide from the choices she was about to make. It was only the horse that kept her from straying farther than the stable apartments. She’d anticipated bringing Lavender home for months and, expecting very little blessings going forward, the idea of missing out on this added to her unhappiness.