My thoughts turn back to my pregnancy, and soon my mind becomes a dark cesspool of disturbing memories and suffocating feelings.
It’s been five months since Damian rescued me, but there are still times it feels like it just happened. Some of the memories are starting to fade, like the beatings.
It’s the last night I spent in the container that haunts me. I don’t think I’ll ever forget a single moment of it. But somehow, the harrowing intensity is starting to fade, as if I’m actually finding a way to somehow live with it. Either that or I’ve managed to switch off the debilitating emotions.
“Honey,” Annie calls from the kitchen over Elvis hiccupping, ‘You ain’t nothing bu-ut a houn-nd do-og.’
The scratches are getting worse by the day, and soon there will be more hiccups than words.
“Yes, Annie,” I pop my head out from my room, holding the towel around myself.
I always shower right after we come up from working the land. Then I put on one of the new dresses Annie made me. The ‘sunflower range,’ she calls them. They still reach beneath my knees, and the colors are bright. She says it’s to make me shine. I just smile and wear them gratefully.
“I’m gonna head on over to Old Bertha for a quick cup of tea. Just taking her some of the pie I baked. Woman’s been complaining about her hips not functioning.”
A quick cup means I’ll see her much later.
They usually play bridge while finishing the pie between the two of them. Annie tried to get me to go with her once, but I’d rather stay home. It’s alone time for me, so I don’t mind.
“Take it easy on her,” I tease. She winks at me and heads out the front door.
I listen to Annie drive away, and then it’s only Elvis and me. I let the record play, so the house isn’t too quiet. I sit down in front of the chest of drawers. I started painting it two days ago, lilac with purple butterflies.
Annie loves it.
I get back into stenciling a butterfly when Elvis hiccups, and then the house goes silent.
I wait for the record to go on, but it doesn’t, and the second drags out endlessly long. I feel the air shift, the atoms pressing against me, and I know I’m not alone. The paintbrush in my hand starts to tremble, but I don’t move.
“If I can find you,” Damian murmurs, his voice deeper than I remember, “they can find you just as easy.”
I try to listen for movement, but I hear none. I can only feel him.
“Karen Weston,” it’s a whisper, but it’s closer. Really close.
Slowly, I place the paintbrush and stencil down and push myself up. I haven’t seen Damian in a month, but his voice has the power to make it feel like it’s only been a second.
I try to brace myself for his eyes as I turn around and almost whimper when our gazes lock.
Damian’s gaze is emotionless and hard on me.
Somehow he’s managed to become harder.
“Damian,” I whisper because I still can’t believe he’s really here. I take in the sight of Damian and notice how tired he looks, and it makes my heart squeeze painfully.
His eyes drift over me, then he says, “You look good, Cara.” The compliment catches me by surprise.
His eyes drift over me again, from my bare feet to my still drying hair.
Feeling a little self-conscious, I smooth the dress out in front, and my hand settles protectively over my stomach.
“Annie made the dress,” I whisper lamely. Like he actually cares about the dress.
“Who is Williams?” Damian suddenly asks, and my mind scrambles to catch up.
“Who?”
“Jason Williams,” he repeats the name. “The man who did the search on you. Who is he?”
“He’s Annie’s… he’s like a son to her. He didn’t trust me just showing up here, so he had me checked out. He’s a police officer. I don’t know him all that well,” I answer quickly.
“Really? Because he stops by here a lot,” he says, and I hear the warning.
What?
“You’ve been watching me?” I gasp. “What’s it to you, anyway? If he’s stopping here for Annie or me, it’s really not any of your business, Damian. You have your own life to concern yourself with.”
“That’s why I’m here.” Damian moves closer to me. “I’m not that happy that another man is taking an interest in my life. I damn near went crazy when you just vanished on me.” He takes a calming breath. “Why did you leave?”
“Because…” I hesitate, not ready to admit the confusing emotions I have for him. Wetting my lips, I come up with a quick excuse, “Because there will always be someone like Leah. You have a need to save people, and you’re done saving me.”
“I’m done with you?” Damian says incredulously, then he shakes his head, and his eyes sharpen on me. His voice is a low rumble as he says, “You have to stop comparing yourself to Leah. You’re two different people, and in no way do I see you as a replacement for her.” He takes a step closer to me, and his earthy scent makes my stomach flutter. “I’ll never be done with you, Cara. You remember that before you let that man touch you.”