A Little Crushed (13 page)

“Did anyone tell you you’re a regular comedian?” Mustering as much dignity as she had left in her dwindling reservoir, she opened the bathroom door and let the steam swallow her up.

“That’s better.” Max held two steaming mugs of cocoa in his head. “The
Avatar
look is a little passé, don’t you think?”

Her faint smile told him he made her nervous. Wrapped in his robe, she wore an air of vulnerability that brought all his protective instincts to the fore. “Sit.” He nodded in direction of the couch in front of the fire. Apple-scented logs burned in the grate, amber flames dancing in the muted light of the room. He’d cranked up the heating, and although he’d stripped to his T-shirt, he didn’t want to risk his unexpected guest catching a chill. As it was, her normally ivory complexion wore a rose-tinged blush.

“Feeling a bit more human now? If you’re still cold, I can move the sofa closer to the fire.”

“No, it’s fine.”

He joined her. At once, he sensed her pull away from him. “Here.” He pressed the mug into her slender hands. “Contrary to what I may have led you to believe, I don’t bite. Drink up.”

Avoiding his gaze, she took the cocoa and cradled it in both hands before bringing it to her lips, lips he was relieved to see had lost their bluish tinge.

“Wow.” She grimaced. “That’s some cocoa. It’s good though.” She drank some more.

“It should be. It’s laced with vintage brandy. Tom—Mr. Black gave it to me as a Welcome-to-Thamesford gift.”

“Oh.” The colour in her cheeks deepened to blood crimson.

They sipped in a silence fractured only by the distant whir of the washing machine.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke first. “I don’t have a hairdryer. I’m not up on women’s coiffure, but I’m guessing your hair takes a long time to dry.”

“It does.” She pulled her locks free from the confines of the turban creation she’d fashioned. The mane, now as sleek as an otter’s coat, hung down her back. “It will be okay. My parents will think it’s from the rain.”

“Ah.” He wagged a finger at her. “Good thinking, Batman. I like your style.”

Amazing. Rebecca Harding—amused? Tinkling laughter caressed his ear, her eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks in the most beguiling manner. Her patrician face held a fragile, exquisite beauty, and yet she possessed great strength.

She finished her drink and placed the mug on the table. Her brow creased with an intense frown no young girl should wear, but then, life had been tough on Rebecca. With her legs tucked under her, she twisted her fingers in the terry-towelling folds. She caught her lip between even white teeth and chewed on it. He guessed she wanted to say something.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything. It’s done now, I think...I hope.”

“No. No it isn’t.” She unfolded the colt-like legs and sat up straight. “I need to say this to you. I know now…I was completely wrong about you and definitely out of line, and I’m sorry. This time, I mean it.”

She looked so distressed. His heart went out to her because he knew it had taken a lot for her to admit her mistake. “Apology accepted, and just for the record, I admit I am partially to blame. I came down too hard on you.”

“Yes, you did.” A hint of her habitual petulance returned to her face. Max was glad. Despite their clashing, he admired her spirit.

“Have a heart.” He gave her a repentant smile. “It was my first day on the job, my first attempt at ‘real’ teaching, and if you tell anyone that, I’ll deny it.”

“Really?” She grinned. “I’m impressed. You’re pretty good, and if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it.”

“
Touché
.” He hi-fived her. “Coming from Thamesford’s star pupil, I am touched you think so. You cannot begin to imagine how nervous I was, scared of messing up and disappointing Tom. He went out on a limb for me.” Arms folded behind his head, he sat back. “So, when you breezed in, treating me as if I were some insignificant irritant to your life, I flipped.”

“You shouldn’t have taken it personally,” she mumbled. “I treat everyone that way.”

He couldn’t help it. He laughed. “Rebecca, you are priceless.”

“So my family keeps telling me.” She rubbed at her nose, and although she grunted her response, a ghost of a smile danced at the corners of her mouth. “Thing is…I meant what I said that day. I know it sounds weird, but I was glad you bawled me out. Do you know how annoying it is to have everyone walk on egg shells around me? I hate being treated as if I am some basket case. It’s so…so patronising. Then you arrived, and I thought, finally, someone who doesn’t know about the ‘accident’ and probably wouldn’t care anyway.”

Max made a face. He didn’t like the sound of that. “Did I come across as so heartless?”

“Yes…no.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Thing is, I respected you for your honest treatment of me and then—”

“And then I went and ruined it all by acting like everyone else.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I am sorry for that, but when Tom explained what had happened—”

“He knows nothing. No one does.” She shot back, hands trembling and her expression wild, almost as if she hated him, but then the hint of madness was gone, and once again, she was just a frightened girl.

Max sat up, his body rigid as he waited for her to continue. Picking up a cushion, she shuffled into the corner of the sofa and held it tight against her chest. For what felt like the most nerve-wracking moment in his life, she didn’t speak. In the corner of the room, the original grandfather clock counted out its steady beat. The machine still whirred in the laundry room. Adding to this harmony of familiar sounds, his heart pounded out a drum solo.

“They think I don’t remember.”

She spoke so softly, he strained to hear. And still she wouldn’t look at him.

“Rebecca—”

“Please....don’t say anything. Just listen. I need you to hear me.”

Every nerve-ending on high alert, he leaned forward, hands resting on his knees.

“I remember everything.”

Eyes closed, she breathed in. It was as if she’d left him, and in a way, he suspected she had. She was travelling back down a dark and lonely road to what must have been hell.

“Thing is…I blame myself. I should never have wondered off, but that’s me, always thinking I know best. It’s not a very complicated story. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and he nabbed me. I will say, in my defence, I didn’t go down without a fight, but he was pretty strong. I knew as soon as he threw me into that dug-out I was in serious trouble. The smell… I think it will haunt me forever. At first I didn’t know what it was exactly—apart from it made me throw up—but when I saw the torn and stained clothes, I guessed I had little chance of getting out alive. That’s all I told my parents and the police. After that—” She hung her head. “I told them I couldn’t remember. They believe me, and I want them to keep on believing me.”

Max remained frozen. The urge to crawl across the small space between them and hold her almost overwhelmed him. He didn’t understand why she opened up to him, and he didn’t care. For some bizarre reason, she trusted him. More important, she had more to reveal.

“Do you know why I don’t want to tell them what happened?” She looked into his eyes then, expression pleading with him to understand. “I couldn’t bear to see my parents…my father…suffer. Sometimes ignorance is preferable to the truth. I think it would destroy him. My mum, she’s tougher, but men… Well, you’re not so strong, are you?”

He had no answer to that. Unease crawled in the pit of his stomach. What was she trying to tell him? “Rebecca.... Please don’t think Tom told me so much, but I didn’t think…he…the doctors said—”

She paled to a Geisha white. “No,” she whispered. “I wasn’t raped.” She looked away again. “But only because he couldn’t.”

She reminded him of a cornered deer, frightened and so exposed. He supposed he could have stopped her. He was, after all, not a trained therapist, but her story wrenched at his heart.

“He tried. Boy, did he try. I think that’s probably where his rage came from. Men are so full of hang-ups, aren’t they?” She fashioned a weak smile. “He…he made me do things to him.”

Max caught her shiver of revulsion as she battled with her nightmarish recollections.

“I fought him. I think…I may have bitten him, at one stage. Needless to say, he wasn’t too happy about that. He called me a fucking whore and a bitch and then just made me do it again and again until I threw up. That pissed him off, too.” She looked as if she wanted to be sick right now.

“Rebecca, you don’t have to go on. It’s okay.” He reached out, but she shrank back from his hand.

“I’m nearly done. Actually, I’m quite enjoying this. Perhaps there is something in this therapy lark, but please don’t tell Mrs. Black I said that. I think she must be a nice person, but I cannot talk to her. Thing is…is it wrong not to feel remorse at killing someone? Because I don’t. I know I killed him, and I’m glad. Sometimes…sometimes I wish he were still alive, so I could kill him over and over again.” A crazed fury blazed in her eyes.

“Do you know I have this mad compulsive need to wash my hands?” She held them up in front of her face, staring at them, distaste filming her expression. “It’s like I can still smell his blood on them, feel his skin under my fingernails. Sometimes it’s so bad I scrub them until they bleed. I remember something in me just snapped, and I ran at him. It’s like I had all this power raging in me. I knocked him to the ground and made a run for it, but of course, I knew he’d catch me. I dream about that every night, you know. Another little hiccup my parents don’t know about. I am really good at screaming quietly.”

“You shouldn’t have to do that.” He took hold of her hand, and this time she let him. “I know you want to be noble, but your parents can help you. You shouldn’t have to go through this alone.”

“I have Emma…and Wally.” She smiled. “He’s a great listener.”

At that moment, he’d never admired anyone so much in his life.

“And so to the grand finale.” She expelled a heart-wrenching sigh. “He caught me. I remember I just went crazy. I clawed and clawed at his face until he screamed. His blood was everywhere.” She shuddered. “All over my hands and my clothes, but he still came at me. I stumbled back, and suddenly, this lump of wood somehow got into my hand, and with every bit of strength I could find, I swung it at his head. I’ll never forget that moment…his expression. He looked so stunned, as if he couldn’t believe I’d done it. He put his hand to his head, and when it came away covered in blood, he looked straight into my eyes. It was the strangest thing. It was almost as if he was proud of me. After that I must have blacked out because I don’t remember anymore. They say I hit my head on a rock when he fell on me. All I know is I went to sleep for a very long time.”

“The mind does that sometimes.” He stroked her fingers. Although the room was near-furnace temperature, her hands were ice.

“I know. Defence mechanism.” She prised her hands free, cheeks flushed. “Could I possibly have a glass of water? My throat is a little raw.”

“Sure.” Reluctant to let her go, he was astute enough to realize she needed a moment to compose herself. “I’ll check on your clothes while I’m there. They should be done. I’ll be right back. Rebecca…” Tentatively, he rested his hands on her shoulders. Through the folds of his robe, he felt her tension. She was so slender.

“Please don’t go all slushy on me.” She aimed for an overly-bright smile.

“I’ll try. I’m sorry.” One again her resilience humbled him. “I’ll try not to shatter your illusions about uncouth colonials.”

“I think you already have.” For the first time since they’d met, she looked coy.

He moved around the kitchen as if on automatic pilot, trying to process what had just happened between them and why she’d chosen to bare her soul. As he took her clothes from the dryer and shook out the creases, he couldn’t begin to fathom how much internal turmoil she’d buried within. When he thought of her at the mercy of that depraved animal, his stomach turned. He shared her wish; if the monster ever did come back from the dead, then
he
would take great pleasure in killing him again.

Clothes draped over his arm and a glass of water in the other, he went to her.

She stood in front of the fireplace, Kate’s picture in her hand. For some reason, that made him uncomfortable. Kate belonged to another world.

“Is this your fiancée?” Head cocked to the side, Rebecca studied Kate’s image. “She’s beautiful.”

“Yes.” Taking the frame from her, he pressed the glass into her hand. “Smart, too. She’s an archaeologist.”

“It must be a wonderful job. I always wanted to do that.” She gave a rueful smile. “Ancient civilizations fascinate me, but I had to choose. I went with English.”

“How did you know I had a fiancée?” Odd. He didn’t feel comfortable discussing Kate, but she’d piqued his curiosity.

With a disinterested shoulder shrug, she replaced the silver frame on top of the mantel piece. “I overheard a couple of teachers talking. They said— Never mind.” She blushed. “Probably best you don’t know.”

“Probably.” He smiled. He found her awkwardness endearingly childlike. Despite the near furnace heat, she shivered, arms wrapped tight around her middle.

“I should go. It’s getting late.”

“Sure.” He handed her the dried clothes. “Go and change, and I’ll drive you home.”

“You don’t have to, you know. I only live around the corner.”

Despite their new ‘intimacy,’ she still hung on to her aloofness. He imagined she felt a little raw and exposed. He didn’t blame her. “Actually, I do mind. It’s dark outside, and the temperature is supposed to drop to below zero tonight. I know you’re tough, Rebecca, and I respect your resilience, but I couldn’t sleep unless I knew you were home safe.”

She frowned, confusion too clearly visible on her face. “But what about my parents? If they see me turn up in your car, they’ll be curious. My father is a lawyer. Interrogation and torture is his forte.”

Again her dry wit made him smile. “Okay, we’ll compromise. I’ll drive you to the corner of your road, and you will run like hell to your door.”