Beautifully Wounded (The Beaumont Brothers) Page 5

  Lena stood up and pulled her coat closed as she walked through the door I held open. “Thanks.” She stepped in, glanced around. “This is perfect.”

  “It's just a one-room deal, furnished with a small daybed, a couple of end tables, and an old television. There's a small kitchen with your basic ceramic sink, refrigerator, and small stove. The bathroom has a shower and a small tub that you can soak in … if you want.” I cleared my throat as I forced that picture out of my head. I really needed to get a handle on where my mind was going. This girl was injured, in more ways than one.

  “Um ... listen, I have some clothes you could put on. Nothing fancy, and I’m sure they’ll be three sizes too big for you, but at least you won’t have to wear your coat all the time. I’ll go get them. I live in the house down there.” I pointed to the large three story stone house that sat on the other side of the driveway in front of our massive backyard—close to two acres—spanning down to the three-foot wide creek that flowed most of the year.

  Lena glanced out the window. “You mean that park down there is part of your backyard? I guess with a dog like Rufus you would need a backyard that size.”

  “Yeah. You sit. Relax. I’ll be right back. Rufus stay.”

  It wasn't like me to eavesdrop, and I had full intentions of walking straight down those steps, but when I closed the door I heard her speaking to Rufus, and the sound of her sweet fragile voice had me frozen in my steps.

  “Ahhh, Rufus. I'm so scared. What's going to happen to me? If they find Troy's body they'll surely put me in jail. I know he would have killed me this time. I don't think they'll believe me. Do you believe me Rufus?”

  Who was Troy? And did she kill him? If so, it must have been self-defense. But then why was she running?

  I pictured her hands on the dogs face, looking at him square in the eye, and Rufus licking her chin. I knew my dog, knew he'd nuzzle up against her leg with an assiduous look to his deep-set eyes as if he understood every word she said.

  “You're a good dog, aren't you, Rufus, boy. Yeah, you like that don't cha?”

  Realizing I stood frozen and riveted over each and every one of her words, I forced myself down the steps to retrieve the promised, but almost forgotten, clothes. After rummaging through my drawers searching for those small grey sweat pants I had back in high school, I finally found them in a corner on the floor of my closet. When and how they got there, I had no clue. Less than ten minutes later I raced back up the stairs, juggling a couple of long sleeve thermal shirts and the grey sweat pants in my arms. I didn’t just walk right in though. I knocked before opening the door about an inch, and asked if it was okay to come in.

  “Yeah sure, of course.”

  “Here’s a pair of sweat pants that are small on me and might fit better than my others, and a couple of shirts.

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll see what I might be able to come up with from one of Brodie’s girlfriends, but in the meantime, these should work.” I handed her the clothes as our furry grey and white cat slinked her way past me and rubbed up against Lena.

  “That’s Rosie, she’ll rub the heck out of your legs if you don’t pick her up and pet her for a few minutes, but you should go ahead and change. I’ll be back in a few and get you set up with some clean bedding.”

  She picked up the cat, stroked her head, and smiled as she looked up at me with a bemused expression. “One of his girlfriends?”

  “Yeah, that’s Brodie. Anyway, you can go ahead and change if you want. I’ll be back up in a few.”

  “Jackson ... if it’s okay, I think I’d like to bathe first. I um ...”

  “Oh yeah.” How inconsiderate of me. Anyone in their right mind would want to shower after what she’d been through. “Of course. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Let me just make sure that there’s some soap in there. I’ll run down and get you some towels and stuff.”

  Chapter 10

  Lena

  I sat on the daybed looking around, noting there were no pictures on the walls, and very little furniture, and that the kitchen counters were completely bare. Then I remembered he’d said it was a rental. I patted the dog some more and stroked the cat before taking the clothes into the bathroom. I set them on top of the counter and ran the water in the tub, letting it run over my fingers as it filled. I debated as to whether I should wait for him to come back up with towels before plunging in, but the water looked so inviting, and I felt so filthy and grungy. I couldn’t wait to get the smell of Troy off me. I shrugged out of my coat, let it fall to the floor, and stepped into the warm, soothing water. Resting my head against the back of the tub, I closed my eyes, and for the first time in a year I relaxed, almost. I thought … maybe I was even safe. But was I?

  I didn’t want to run for the rest of my life. If I had managed to kill Troy, how long would it take the police to find me? If I didn’t kill him, how long would it take him to find me? I wasn’t sure which situation was better, but settled on the first one. I’d rather go to prison than be subjected to Troy’s abuse again. How did other women deal with it? I’d asked myself that question too many times.

  Yes, I knew there were shelters, but as Troy reminded me many times, he’d find me if I ever tried to run, and I knew a shelter or safe house for women would be the first place he would look. I’d read hundreds of stories about abused women. I didn’t think I was anything like them. I was stronger than them—stronger than my mother. Or so I’d thought. Of course, I’d never brought any of those books home. It was better to just read those types of books while at the library, never checking one out. Troy knew everything I did. It wouldn’t have surprised me if he kept tabs on everything I borrowed from the library. I was lucky he would even let me go there every few weeks.

  Chapter 11

  Jackson

  When I came back up with the towels, shampoo, and some clean sheets for the bed, I realized I’d left the front door open a bit. I knocked, but she didn't answer, so I just walked in this time figuring she knew I was coming. The water was running in the bathroom, and the door left ajar with Rufus edged in between it and the door jam. I froze when I saw her soaking in the tub. Suddenly I felt like I was back in high school as a wave of embarrassment swept over me, and I quickly turned away.

  “Ah ... Lena?”

  The sound of my voice must have startled her. The water sloshed loudly, and she groaned with pain. “Ouch! I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “Sorry, are you okay? I didn’t mean to startle you. I’ll just leave these towels here on this stool. I brought up some shampoo, and found some conditioner.” I set the towels and plastic bottles down on a chair just inside the door to the bathroom, and turned to walk away. I stopped before leaving, and over my shoulder I said, “Oh, by the way, you might not want to stay in there too long, especially if the water is hot, the hot water isn’t good for the swelling.”

  “Thanks, you’re probably right. It just looked so inviting, but now that I’m in here, I’m not sure I can get up.”

  “Do you need help?” I asked, keeping my back toward her, but sounding a little too eager.

  “No ... um ... yes ... I think I might, but ...”

  “Don’t worry, I won’t look.” I picked up a towel, opened it, and holding it sideways, I walked up to the side of the tub. Keeping my eyes averted, I reached in and wrapped the towel around her while helping her up.

  Our eyes met. I kept mine on hers, not wanting her to think I wanted a glimpse of her body. Her one good eye, blue as the deepest part of the ocean, and the other a swollen slit of puffy black and blue, gazed into mine for a few seconds before she glanced down and placed one hand on the towel and the other up to her face in a poor attempt to hide her eye.

  “Thank you. God, I must look horrible.”

  “You’ll heal.” Yeah, she did look awful. Like someone beat the crap out of her, awful. I wanted to trail my finger down the side of her cheek, wishing I could stroke away the pain. Almost as if something or someone took possession o
f my hand, the tips of my fingers were at the side of her face, ready to find out just how soft her skin might be. But when her mouth opened as though the gesture shocked her, I dropped my hand and stepped away. I wanted to touch her. I wanted very much to take away her pain, not only the bruises, but the mental anguish I knew she must carry inside, and the thought worried me. Just how long could I stand not touching her?

  “Listen, Jackson, this is really great, what you’re doing for me.” Her words brought me out of all those visions I had no business thinking about. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you.”

  “Don’t worry about it right now.” I turned to walk out of the bathroom, but stopped and turned back. “If you want to shower and wash your hair, the shower controls are backwards, something I’ve been meaning to fix but haven’t gotten around to yet.”

  “Okay, thanks.”

  I had to force myself to turn back around and walk away. Coaxing Rufus out of the way, I shut the bathroom door, and went back down to the main house. Black eye and all she was lovely, but she wasn’t in any shape—emotionally or physically—for me to be thinking about her in that way. Hell, the way I saw it, she probably never would be. I swore that if this Troy character was still, alive and I ever met up with the coldblooded bastard, I’d need to have someone restrain me because I knew I’d want to kill him.

  Down in my own kitchen I decided to make some eggs and toast. Considering that Lena walked into the bar around nine, and it was nearly noon now, she must be hungry. I brewed some fresh coffee and put some butter in a pan when the phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Jackson, are you coming back? You left your guitar here on the stage,” Brodie said.

  “Shit, um ... could you put it in the office? I don’t know when I’ll get back there.”

  “Yeah, sure. Also, where did you put the daily sheet with the liquor count on it?”

  “Look in the register,” I barked. Brodie knew that’s where I always put it. Out of frustration, I took a couple of steps toward the doorway.

  “I did, it’s not there, and one of the keg spouts is jammed.”

  God, I hated when Brodie acted like an imbecile.

  “Open your bloody eyes Brodie, and look harder. I don’t have time for this. I’ve got things happening here.”

  “Yeah? Well while you’re off playing hero I’ve got a business to run.”

  “My business.”

  “Yeah your business, and I’m running it by myself. So cut me some slack will you? Okay, found it, you stuck it under the twenties. By the way, how’s your fawn?” There was a note of actual concern in his question.

  “Mending.”

  I turned to the sizzling sound followed by the smell of burning butter coming from the stove. “Shit, I need to go. Talk to you later.”

  Chapter 12

  Lena

  I pulled on the over-sized sweatpants and thermal shirt. It felt good to be clean, to get the smell of Troy off me. Jackson was thoughtful enough to bring a brush up with him when he brought up the shampoo and towels. Standing in front of the mirror I brushed the tangles out of my wet hair, and then carefully applied some makeup to my face. It was no use though. No amount of makeup would hide the dark bruises. I’d just have to wait it out.

  I went to the daybed and sat, propping the pillows up behind my head. Bringing my legs up, I extended them out in front of me. It felt amazing to stretch out. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.

  I had the sense of sleeping. Dreaming, as I approached a dense, dark pathway that seemed to go on forever. I wandered down the narrow trail, the grass brushing the tips of my fingers as I walked. It was quiet. No one else was around. It seemed too tranquil, a bit too safe. Something was wrong, yet I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I recognized the deep, rough voice. “You can’t hide.” I jerked my body around toward Troy ... he was alive. I ran that slow, sluggish jog you have during a dream, but my energy seemed too weak making my attempts at gaining enough speed to escape nearly impossible.

  His voice was like a distant echo. “You can run, bitch, but you can’t hide. I’ll find you, and when I do, I’ll kill you.” I tripped over some shrubs. There was a creaking from a distance, moving closer, turning into scratching. I crawled my way through a thicket of thorny bushes as they scratched at my skin. Thorns tore at my clothes and arms; the warmth of blood seeped through my sleeve and trickled down my wrist. Then he grabbed me.

  “Troy!” I screamed, shoving at the hands on my shoulders and pushing away from him, curling my body into the corner of the sofa. I held on to my knees, rocking. “He’s dead, he has to be dead, please tell me he’s dead.”

  “Shhh, you were dreaming.” Jackson’s voice sounded soothing, but as he reached for me, I curled further into myself. He stopped, held out his hand. “It’s okay, he’s not here. He can’t hurt you now.”

  “No, you don’t understand.”

  “What, Lena? What don’t I understand? Tell me. I’ll help you. Please trust me. I promise you can trust me.”

  I stared at his outstretched hand but didn’t take it. I considered my dream a premonition. If I didn’t kill Troy … “He’ll kill me,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear but not sure I wanted him to.

  Jackson sat down beside me, and I rolled my knees up against my stomach. I hugged my arms around them, not ready to be close to anyone. Would I ever be?

  We sat in silence for a moment. His fingers brushed against my arm and then he moved closer. I couldn’t move. I was afraid to even breathe, and he probably sensed that since he didn’t move either. Then a minute later, his arm moved behind me, and I let him pull me against him. I shivered under his arms as he held me tight. He rocked me, stroking my still damp hair. Maybe I was still dreaming. If this were real life, would I be letting a strange man hold me? Then, when Jackson asked “Who will kill you?”, I realized his strong arms were real, and I very much wanted them to be safe.

  I wanted to tell him what had happened as I sat secure in his embrace, not like Troy—nothing like Troy. I wanted to be able to trust someone. Still, how could I tell him that just that very morning I’d killed my husband? That I had his blood all over my hands when I ran, that I didn’t look back and didn’t call for help. I just left him there bleeding to death, I hoped. Did it make me a bad person that I hoped he was dead? I pushed myself away from Jackson’s strong arms.

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting all this on you. You don’t even know me. You must think I'm horrible the way I walked into your place so early this morning all beat up.” I swiped at the tears on my cheeks and sniffled as I sank back against the pillows.

  “Listen, I want to help, really, but I understand your reluctance to confide in me. Hell, you don’t know me from Adam, so if you don’t feel like talking about it yet, that’s okay. I’m ready to listen whenever you’re ready. Look, are you hungry? I made some eggs and toast and a fresh pot of coffee. I thought maybe you’d like a bite to eat. There’s not much food up here. Later, if you like—when you’re feeling better—you can come down to my place, see if there are any staples you’d be interested in bringing up here. You know, tea, coffee, milk, sugar, cereal. Or if I don’t have what you want or need, I can take you to the store, or better yet, go for you.”

  “What cloud did you say you were from?”

  He laughed. “See that one over there?” He pointed out the window. “No, not that one,” he said, as my gaze followed his, “the lighter one, over there. The one shaped like Pluto.”

  “The dog or the planet?”

  “The dog, of course.”

  At that I smiled, and found myself relaxing a bit.

  “Eat your eggs, you need your strength. I’ll leave you alone for a while to rest. Then you can expect me back to wake you up again. As Doc said, no more than two hours sleep at a time. Oh, here are two bags of ice. Keep one on your eye, and alternate the other between your side and your head.”

  As he began to get up from the daybed I re
alized I didn’t want to be alone. The odds of Troy finding me, if he were alive, were slim, but I was afraid. I really should hate men and never want to be in the company of one again, except this man with his gentle green eyes and his soft voice soothed me. When he held me a few minutes ago, I wanted to stay there in his arms. I hadn’t been joking when I asked him which cloud he came from. Because, truly, he must be an angel sent from heaven.

  “Wait ... I know you probably have things to do, but please stay with me for a while. I don’t want to be alone.”

  “Well, I do have to tend to some business ... but okay, I guess I can stay for a while. A short while. My brother—fully capable though he is—has a hard time holding it together without the knowledge that I’m right in the back room.”

  “You’re kidding right?”

  “Yeah, I’m kidding. Brodie is great. I don’t know what I’d do without him. I like the idea of owning a bar, but I hate having to work in it.”

  I sat up a little, took a bite of the eggs and sipped some coffee. I hadn’t realized I was hungry until then. “Are you going to eat?” I didn’t give him a chance to answer as I scooped up some eggs on the fork and held it in front of his lips. He opened his mouth and took the eggs. Funny, I’d never done that with Troy. Of course, Troy probably would have slapped me and accused me of forcing something on him he didn’t want.

  “Thanks, but I should be feeding you. You’re the injured one,” he said.

  I picked up a slice of toast and before taking a bite, held it out for him. “Hey, you’ve done enough. And I know how to share.”