by Donna Fasano
He hadn’t realized the far-off quality of his voice as he contemplated his past.
“But—” Tori frowned “—your aunt just up and…”
“Left behind two sons that she never bothered to contact,” Chay filled in. “Tristin and Eli. That family was completely split apart. I guess you could say that the whole Makwa clan has been devastated by loss and grief.”
After a short pause he said, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that I appreciate your strength. Several times you’ve put a stop to… well, that allure, that force, or whatever that seems to completely unhinge me.”
He wished he could find the right words to better clarify his thoughts.
“I don’t feel whole, Tori,” he told her. “I’m not sure I ever will.” Then he added, “I’ve had enough sorrow. I don’t ever want to care about someone to the point that losing them will cause me pain.”
As he talked, the interest on her face had become keener. Now that he’d gone silent, she studied him.
Absently, she grasped the stem end of the blade of grass and wound it around her index finger. “Chay, I do understand that you’ve experienced an inordinate amount of loss in your family.” She stopped long enough to take a breath. “But… I think that grief is a fact of life that all of us have to contend with at some time or other. I know I have. In fact, I don’t know anyone who hasn’t been touched in some way by death or pain or loss. But that shouldn’t turn you against finding a loving relationship. There’s nothing so bad that it should keep you from finding a mate. Settling down. Being happy with… someone.”
There was an odd hitch in her voice, Chay noticed. It was almost as if she were trying to convince him of something she wasn’t quite sure of herself.
The very notion had his mouth spreading into a slow smile.
“Well, something’s happened to turn you against loving relationships,” he observed.
She chuckled then. “Oh, trust me, I’m a firm believer in love. But the rules don’t apply to me.” In a rush, she added, “Besides, we were talking about you. I can’t help but wonder if everything you’re experiencing, all these feelings you’re dealing with, aren’t somehow tied to the dream you’ve been having. Did you use the herb your grandfather gave you?”
Chay had been more than a little intrigued by her statement regarding herself and “the rules,” but he was forced to answer Tori’s question.
“I haven’t,” he told her. Then he found himself swallowed up by some monstrous gloom. He scrubbed at his temples. “I… I have to admit that I’m—” Reality sliced through his words, cutting them to the quick.
Gently she supplied, “Scared? Are you afraid of what you might discover? That would be perfectly understandable, you know.”
Oh, Great Spirit above, how could this woman read him so well?
“The only way you’re going to get the answers you’re looking for,” she said, “is to face the fear. Face the truth. Face that dream.”
Chapter Six
Anxiety pumped through Chay’s veins like acid as he stalked along the forest path, oblivious to the verdant foliage glinting colorfully in the sunlight, the birds that sang from the branches overhead, the freshness that snapped in the autumn air around him. He had one thought in his mind, and one thought alone: finding Tori.
Being strapped shirtless to a termite mound couldn’t be as torturous as the agitation that surged through his being. He took the front steps two at a time, raised his hand and knocked on the door. And when she didn’t open up as quickly as he’d have liked, he banged a second time.
The curtain fluttered and just a moment later the door opened.
“Chay.”
Clearly, Tori was surprised to see him. Somewhere in the back of his brain he vaguely registered the tremendous relief in her expression. That should have given him reason to pause, but he was too distressed at the moment.
“Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s early,” he admitted without apology. He felt more distracted than ever before, but he was aware that she was cinching up a white robe—he’d have had to have been made of granite not to notice.
“I need to talk. Now.” He shifted his weight, eager to go inside and settle down where they could be comfortable.
But Tori evidently had another idea. She stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door closed behind her.
“Let’s take a walk,” she told him, her tone the epitome of tranquility. “It’s a beautiful morning.”
This was why he’d sought her out, he guessed. Her uncanny ability to remain calm no matter what was thrown at her.
She went down the steps in front of him, lifted her face to the sunshine, and smiled. It was a purely instinctive response, he could tell, like breathing or reaching to pet a furry puppy. You didn’t think about it, you just did it.
With her chin tipped upward, her lush locks tumbled down her back in a white-gold cascade, and Chay discovered that just looking at her soothed him.
Tori looked up at him.
“Chay?”
He blinked, realizing that he hadn’t left the spot next to the front door. Feeling like an idiot, he hurried down the stairs and fell into step beside her, his agitation returning full force.
“It’s not a dream,” he blurted. “It’s not something made up by my subconscious. It’s… it’s a memory.”
She looked thoughtful. “So you’ve recalled something from your past?”
Frustration made him grimace. “No.” He heaved a sigh. “The images still aren’t completely clear, but…”
Her blue gaze was steady on him. “You used the herb Grayson gave you? Could it have changed your dream?”
“Kava-kava is mild. Helps to bring a deep sleep. But it’s not strong enough to manipulate the mind.”
“So what’s made you decide that the dream is a memory?”
“Well, my whole perspective has changed. Remember how I told you that, rather than actually being part of what’s happening, I’m standing on the sidelines watching the action?” His gaze searched the air, his hand waving distractedly as he attempted to find the words to describe it all. “That I’m protected? By a sort of film. A light. A—” he shook his head “—a netting that glows.”
It sounded foolish as he attempted to verbalize what he experienced during the dream, and he felt embarrassed all of a sudden. But when he glanced over at Tori, she didn’t look the least bit skeptical.
“Yes, you did tell me.” Then she asked, “But did the herb help at all?”
“I think so. Although none of the images are crystal clear yet,” he told her, “I was able to make out the voices. One belonged to my father. The other was my grandfather’s.”
His gaze dipped to the curve of her shoulder and he saw then that the robe he’d thought was plain white was, in reality, studded with pale blue flower buds. Hundreds of them covered the soft, satiny fabric.
“And the fact that you recognized these voices,” she continued, seemingly oblivious to his too-intimate scrutiny, “is what has you thinking that this was an event that actually took place sometime during your childhood?”
He nodded silently.
Her beautiful face lit with excitement. “Chay! If Grayson is in the dream, then he had to have been present when the incident occurred. Go see him. Ask him. He’ll be able to tell you—”
“I’m not going to see him.” He could feel the scowl that furrowed his brow, that took control of his whole face. “He can’t help me, Tori.”
She stopped suddenly and turned to face him, her incredulity apparent in the way she plunked one fisted hand on her hip and asked, “What do you mean you’re not going to see him?”
He’d expected her to at least try to understand, but instead she was attacking him with this overwhelming amazement that made him think she’d decided he’d gone daft. His irritation flared.
“I already told you,” he said. “I heard the voices. Made out a snippet of the angry fight between my father and g
randfather.”
Even now in his mind’s eye he could make out the angry bear figure, waving its massive, sharp-clawed paws in the air.
“‘Get out,’ he shouted,” Chay relayed to Tori, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “‘Leave Misty Glen and don’t come back.’”
The pain that seared into his chest, into his heart, was nearly more than he could bear. He leveled his troubled gaze onto Tori’s face.
“Grandfather took my father away from me,” he said, his tone raspy with the anger that engulfed him. “Who does he think he is? He can’t manipulate people like that! He can’t make those kinds of decisions for people. He stole away those last few precious months I could have had with my dad before he was killed. It wasn’t right, Tori. It wasn’t fair!”
“Wait just a minute.”
The annoyance he heard in Tori’s voice made him pause. Sure enough, her blue eyes were narrowed, her shoulders square with the tension building inside her.
“You can’t say for certain that that’s what happened,” she said. “You told me that you heard ‘a snippet’ of what was being said. You can’t take a piece of information out of context and form a bunch of ridiculous notions about it.” She gulped in a breath. “I won’t stand here and let you make half-baked insinuations about a man who is as good-hearted as Grayson Makwa.”
“Good-hearted?” He couldn’t believe his ears. “Why are you defending him? Didn’t you hear what I said?”
“I heard every word you said.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “But you obviously didn’t hear what I said. You’re too busy making up stories about what those images in your head might mean, when what you should be doing is talking to the one person who might just be able to set you straight.” Her frown was harsh. “Chay Makwa, I don’t believe you’re at all interested in the truth.”
He seethed, and although he knew his anger was focused on his grandfather, he couldn’t help the fact that the roiling emotion was getting mixed up in his conversation with Tori.
“I’ll tell you what the truth is,” he said. “I’ve been angry with Grayson for years. It’s why I haven’t come home to the rez. It’s why I found excuses not to help with the construction of the community center last year. Somewhere buried in my head was the memory that Grayson is the reason my father left Misty Glen. For some reason, the incident became obscured, lost in my brain. But now it’s out in the open where everyone can see it in the clear light of day.”
Her chin tipped up stubbornly. “Nothing is clear, Chay. You need to stop blaming Grayson and start working on discovering why you buried the truth. And you also need to uncover the rest of the details. Because the Grayson I know would never knowingly hurt a fly, let alone a grandson he loves beyond reason.”
Chay glared at her for a long moment. She spoke as if she knew his grandfather well, and some silent inner voice told him this was significant. But he felt too betrayed, too furious to question it.
“I can’t believe,” he finally said, “that I came to you looking for understanding. Looking for help.”
The obstinate shadow that darkened her gaze didn’t let up. “I want to understand you, Chay. I want to help you, too. But I can’t help a man who refuses to help himself.”
She hadn’t raised her tone, hadn’t shouted or railed. In fact, her voice had remained quiet even as she’d given her opinion.
For the span of many seconds they squared off, their gazes clashing, neither backing down. In the end, the feeling of being let down by her became more than he could take and he turned on his heel and walked away.
~oOo~
Wednesday of the following week, the building permit arrived in a large manila envelope and sat unopened on the hall table. Oh, she knew it was there. Knew she would need to hire a carpenter if she was ever going to start the carriage-house renovation. But she was too busy dealing with Brenda to give the project much thought.
Although Tori spent the majority of her time simply listening to the woman, Brenda also needed to be taught some basic life skills—opening a debit and savings account, devising a budget. Brenda also needed guidance in dressing for and conducting herself during a job interview.
Tori stared at the tabletop. Next to the envelope from the building department was another piece of mail. One she had opened. The invitation was covered in romantic white roses. Lyssa and Dakota were having a party.
The couple had married quickly, with no chance of sharing their day with friends. Now that they were in love, they wanted to celebrate. Tori wasn’t sure she could attend. Again, the needs of Brenda and Scotty had to take precedence over a night of fun with her friends.
On a good note, Brenda had made great strides. She was feeling emotionally stronger and much more optimistic about her and her son’s future these days. She and Tori had discussed getting Brenda into some kind of training that would better prepare her for the employment market. And Tori had even convinced the woman to see a lawyer about filing for divorce.
However, all that had changed after the call Brenda had made this morning.
“I thought we’d agreed,” Tori gently scolded the woman, “that you wouldn’t contact anyone while you were working things out.”
“I know.” Apology was thick in Brenda’s tone. “But I was feeling so alone.”
Tori offered a sympathetic smile. “I understand. Really I do. But I’m sure I don’t have to remind you about the need for discretion. You haven’t wanted me to tell a single soul you’re here.”
“Sheila won’t tell anyone I called her. And I didn’t tell her where I am.”
“That’s good.” Tori took Brenda’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “I am glad you called your friend… and not your husband.”
“You don’t need to worry over that,” Brenda said. “Me and Tommie Boy are through. I’m finished being his punchin’ bag.”
The resolve in the woman’s voice pleased Tori. Brenda was well on her way to becoming a survivor of domestic abuse.
Some ominous emotions clouded Brenda’s plain features. “After talking to Sheila, I do have to admit that I’m scared all over again.”
Tori waited patiently for Brenda to explain. “Tommie went to see Sheila,” she said. “Scared her half crazy, he did. He went over there, rantin’ and ravin’. He even threatened her. Sheila told me she was sure he was going to hit her.”
Brenda paused, her fingers absently rising to the still-healing wound on her temple. When she continued, her words were a mere whisper, “She said Tommie means to hurt me bad when he finds me. He’s been promising that to everyone who will listen.” Her gaze went fearful. “He means it, Tori. He’d kill me if he thought he could get away with it. And with that greasy manager he’s got who seems willing to pour good money after bad, Tommie just might could get away with it.”
Despite her poor grammar, Brenda’s meaning couldn’t have been clearer.
“I wish—” her gaze became dreamy, wistful “—I could take Scotty and go far away.”
Tori studied her, from the scabbed-over gash on her face to the pale yellow bruises around her eyes to the tape across her nose. The woman was too young to have been through hell and back. But hell was exactly what she’d experienced being married to a man prone to violence.
Finally Tori quietly said, “You can do that, Brenda. And I can help you. If that’s really what you want to do, I can make the arrangements. Get you and Scotty new identities. I know people who would be willing to help you. People who are far away. I’ve done it before for women who felt they had no other alternative.”
Interest perked Brenda’s brows.
“But I do have to warn you,” Tori said, “that kind of life is difficult. You can’t go back home. Ever. You can’t speak to family or friends. You’ve got to leave everything and everyone behind.” She let the idea of it sink in. Softly but firmly she added, “It would be very hard.”
“Harder than what I already been through?” Emotion made Brenda’s eyes glitter. “Harder than getting banged
up every time something don’t go right for my husband? Harder than getting my arm broke? My fingers? My jaw? Harder than hiding with Scotty in the darkness of a closet so many times that I done lost count? I want to start fresh. Me and my son deserve to start over.”
Knowing this wasn’t a decision to be made lightly, or one that should be made when emotions ran high, Tori patted Brenda’s arm and said, “I want you to take some time to think about this.”
“I don’t need to think. I been thinkin’ long enough. I want you to arrange for me to leave Vermont. I want to leave New England. I’ll go anywhere, Tori. California. Alaska. Timbuktu. Anywhere that me and Scotty will be safe.”
For a long moment Tori sat quiet. Then she nodded. “I can have you and Scotty on your way in a couple of days.”
For the first time since Brenda had arrived, her posture seemed to ease… and something… what was that—
Tori’s heart wrenched.
Hope. That was hope giving Brenda’s eyes a new illumination.
This, Tori realized, was the best part of her job. Seeing women who arrived on her doorstep, beaten down with defeat and despair, come to life with a newfound optimism for a bright tomorrow.
Brenda blinked, reaching out and touching Tori on the sleeve. “That man of yours,” she began. “I haven’t seen him come around.” Her tone softened with regret as she asked, “You missed out on him, didn’t you? Because of me. I wouldn’t let you tell him about me and Scotty being here.”
The smile Tori attempted felt flat, but she hadn’t expected Brenda to bring up Chay as a topic of discussion. She hadn’t been prepared.
She’d been terribly upset by the conclusions Chay had come to, impulsive assumptions made without all the facts. She’d fretted over it ever since, but her worrying wasn’t going to do him any good. Tori had spoken the truth to him. She’d wanted to help. But she couldn’t if he wasn’t willing to talk to Grayson, to discover the truth from the only living person able to offer it. But Chay’s eyes had hardened with flinty determination when he said he wasn’t going to talk to his grandfather.
