After the Storm (18 page)

Donovan’s eyebrow went up, but he was careful to remain silent and not interrupt.

“She had Travis when I was nine and then Cammie several years later. I had thought . . . I had thought she wouldn’t have any more children. But Walt—my stepfather—wanted a daughter and he insisted that my mother give him one. I can remember their argument,” she said with a flinch, as if the memory still burned brightly in her mind.

“I was nineteen and I was visiting. I didn’t get to see my mom much. Especially after Travis was born.”

Donovan frowned and broke in to ask the question burning his tongue.

“I assume you were with your dad then since you weren’t living with your mom. So where was he and where is he
now
?”

Eve flushed and he regretted interrupting her, something he’d promised himself he wouldn’t do.

“My father left us when I was too young to remember him. My mother’s sister—my aunt—took me in when Walt refused to let me live with them.”

“What a piece of work,” Donovan muttered.

“He did me a favor,” Eve said wryly. “I didn’t know it at the time, but now I’m grateful he refused to take me in and consider me a daughter.”

Donovan tensed, knowing that what she still had to tell him was not going to be good. But he was already quite aware that nothing about Eve’s situation was good.

“Go on,” he encouraged, not wanting to shut her down with his interruption.

She sighed. “Anyway, I remember hearing them argue. My mother felt that she was too old to have another child. Travis’s pregnancy had been very difficult for her and there was already such a gap between my and Travis’s birth, and now she was looking at having an adult daughter and a preteenage son. She didn’t want to start all over again, and I can’t blame her for that. Walt told her she was being selfish and was only thinking of herself. She then reminded him that he already had a daughter. Me.”

Eve’s voice became shaky, and she gave a visible shudder that told him all too well what she thought of being considered her stepfather’s daughter.

“I was visiting. One of the rare times I was allowed to see my mother. They were arguing in their bedroom, which was on the main floor of the house while all the other bedrooms were upstairs. And when she mentioned me, that he had a daughter, he told her that I wasn’t his blood and that he wanted a daughter that was his. That there was no way he would consider another man’s leavings as his child.”

Even though it was evident that Eve had no wish to be considered the man’s daughter, there was still pain in her voice at how coldly Walt had dismissed her. As though she weren’t good enough. How abandoned must Eve have felt? Not wanted by her biological father. Not allowed to see or be with her own mother. Taken in by an aunt and rejected by her stepfather. It made Donovan furious that she’d suffered so much pain. And that much more determined to ensure that she suffered no more.

“I brought it up to my mother the next day when I got a few minutes with her alone. It was rare that Walt ever let me be around her without him present. It was almost as if he were afraid I’d try to turn her against him. I told her what I’d overheard. Not the part about him not considering me a daughter, but I asked her if she was going to have another child.”

Eve’s lips turned downward and tears gathered in her eyes.

“I’ll never forget how resigned she looked. And you have to understand. My mother loved me and Travis. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to have children. But the doctors had advised her not to get pregnant again after Trav. It was too difficult a pregnancy for her and I knew Walt knew this. It pissed me off that he could call her selfish when what he was asking her to do was a risk to her health.”

“And what did she say?” Donovan asked gently.

“She said that she didn’t have a choice, that it was what he wanted, and how could she deny him his wish for another child? I told her that it was selfish of
him
to ask her to have another. And she freaked out. Not that she got loud or argued with me. But I remember the utter panic that entered her expression. She got really quiet, like she was afraid that we would be overheard even though Walt had taken Travis to the grocery store. But she was like that. Always on guard, as if she expected him to barge into the room at any moment.”

Donovan nodded but kept quiet. She was into it now, and the words were tumbling out, almost as if she were, for the first time, unloading a fierce burden. And it likely was the first time she’d spoken to others of this.

“Then I asked her if she was happy. Really happy. And I asked her if she’d considered leaving Walt. That I would help her. I would quit school. Get a job. Do whatever I could to help her. And she
really
panicked then. I don’t think I’d ever seen her that scared. I mean, she was always reserved around Walt. Skittish even. She was what I would call totally submissive. What he said went. Always. But when I said all that, she told me to promise her that I would
never
mention it again. She was so emphatic. She
made
me promise never to say anything to Walt about it. Then she said that if he knew, he’d never let me see her again.

“Now I already a good idea of how controlling he was, but I honestly thought it was an ego thing. That he didn’t want any reminder of the fact my mother had been married before. But this went deeper than that, and it scared me. She grabbed me by the shoulders and told me she loved me and that she never wanted not to be able to see me and for me not to be a part of her life. She said if having another child secured that option for her, then she’d do it without any reservations. I began to realize then just
how
my stepfather had gotten her to agree to have another child. He’d threatened her. With
me
. It made me sick.”

Donovan grimaced at the sadness and anger in her voice. He put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, a reminder that he was here and that she was safe. That her stepfather couldn’t harm her now.

“I had to promise her, even though it sickened me to have to swear that I wouldn’t stick up for her. That I wouldn’t help her or ever mention Walt’s treatment or unreasonable demands. But she was so upset. So terrified that I couldn’t do anything else.”

“So she got pregnant with Cammie,” Donovan said softly.

Eve nodded, unable to speak for a moment as tears knotted in her throat. After a minute or two, she cleared her throat and continued.

“Walt was thrilled with my mother’s pregnancy, and for a time, he was
nice
. Generous even. He allowed me to see my mother more. Even offered to help me through college, something he’d never offered before. I didn’t want to take it. I wanted nothing from him, but again, my mother begged me to make peace. Not to rock the boat. She was happier than I’d ever seen her. She seemed to shine. Her pregnancy was progressing well and, to Walt’s credit, not that he deserves any,” she said fiercely, “he treated her very well. Made sure she rested, didn’t lift a finger. He employed a full staff and they waited on her hand and foot. It was like Walt had a lobotomy or something. He was a different man, or at least that was the front he put on. So I capitulated. Allowed Walt to basically come in and take over my life. Later I realized that it was just his way of controlling not only my mother and Travis but me as well. And I knew. I mean, I’m not a complete idiot. I knew I shouldn’t allow him to make any decisions about my life or make me beholden to him in any way. But I was willing to do
anything
for my mother. I wanted her to be happy even if I knew in my heart that she’d never truly be happy with a man like Walt. I couldn’t tell her no when it was obvious that any refusal of Walt would bring down his wrath not only on me, but my mother and brother as well. He would have cut me out of my mother’s life. I wouldn’t have been allowed to see her or Travis and certainly not the new baby.”

“You were very likely right,” Donovan said quietly.

“A lot of good it did me,” Eve choked out, tears still straining at the corners of her eyes.

It was obvious she was holding very tightly to her control and that she could crack at any moment. Donovan was prepared. He’d hold her. Let her cry. Whatever she needed because it wasn’t likely she’d allowed herself to show any weakness in front of her brother and sister. She wouldn’t have wanted to make them more afraid than they already were.

Eve wiped at the corner of her eye, her jaw clenched tight as she took a brief moment to gather her composure before continuing her story.

“After Cammie was born, I was allowed to see them more often than I had in the past. When Walt began paying for my schooling—he chose the college. He chose everything. He even scheduled my classes. I
hated
it. I hated how he controlled every aspect of my life. He bought me an apartment closer to where he and Mom lived. All utilities were in his name. Everything was. The car I drove. And on the surface it looked like a stepfather being generous. Stepping up and taking on a daughter who wasn’t his responsibility. He liked looking good when it suited his purposes. Everything he did was carefully orchestrated.

“While I wasn’t a real member of the family—and he was always certain to be very clear about my role in the ‘family’—on paper it looked as though he had taken me in as his ‘own.’ Access to my mother and Travis and Cammie was strictly monitored. I was never to just come over. He told me when I could be there, and if I was even a minute late—he dictated the exact times I was to be there—he punished me by making it that much longer before I could see them again. My life was spiraling out of control, or rather becoming more firmly under his control, and I didn’t see a way out. There was too much at stake. I knew it was all wrong, but God, I didn’t know what to do! If I balked, my mother would suffer. I’d be cut out of her life and God only knew what he’d do to her or Travis and Cammie as a result.”

She took a deep breath, strain evident on her brow. Donovan knew that they’d come to the point where things got worse and she was valiantly trying to keep her emotions in check.

“Until then, I truly didn’t believe that Walt was physically abusive. Verbally and emotionally? Yes. I had no illusions that he wasn’t a maniacal control freak and that he manipulated everyone around him. As naïve as it sounds, I’d never suspected his abuse was physical—there had never been evidence. Until Cammie was three years old. My mother changed. I mean not that she was ever the mom who’d raised me, the woman she’d been before she married Walt. She was more subdued. Her marriage to Walt had changed her. She’d lost her spark, the happiness in her eyes, and she rarely smiled like she used to.

“But then I started noticing bruises. Oh, she always had an excuse. Don’t all abused women have ready excuses when they don’t want people to know they’re being abused? But the excuses kept mounting and I knew that he was hurting her physically. I couldn’t stand by and let that happen. I tried to talk to my mother about it, but she immediately shut me down. She’d get this terrified look on her face and beg me never to speak of it again.

“And I couldn’t do that,” she whispered painfully.

She closed her eyes, tears finally seeping down her cheeks, leaving stark trails on her pale face. Donovan wanted to touch her. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her while she grieved. But he knew she wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot. There was still a hell of a lot that had happened to get them to the point where they were now. Desperate. Running. Scared out of their minds.

“I went to the police and told them that Walt was abusing my mother. I couldn’t just stand by and allow that monster to hurt my mother. I realized that if he abused her, what was to say he wasn’t also abusing Travis and Cammie?”

Dread took hold of Donovan. “What happened then?”

She lifted her tear-filled gaze to his. “Walt was furious. Of course the police merely came to the house and questioned both my mother and Walt. They both denied any such thing and Walt gave some ridiculous story about how the bruises got there. The police left. After all, they could hardly arrest Walt when my own mother denied he was abusing her.”

Donovan let out a pent-up breath, knowing full well how things worked. He’d seen too many cases in real life. Knew exactly how unfair the justice system was sometimes. If Eve’s mother had refused to press charges, the hands of the police were tied.

“Walt confronted me,” Eve said. “He rarely
directly
communicated with me, unless it was to issue a dictate. I was largely ignored. Not part of the family. Travis and Cammie weren’t even allowed to say my name in Walt’s home. I was regarded as a servant, like someone in Walt’s employ, and was treated accordingly.”

“Did he hurt you?” Donovan demanded, his voice cold as rage brewed and stirred in his veins.

“He th-threatened me,” she said falteringly. “He was furious. Told me that I better shut up and mind my own business or I would never see my mother again. He threatened to evict me from my apartment, take away all of his financial support. Not that I cared about any of that. One of the conditions of his support, which he basically forced upon me via my mother and her pleas for peace, was that I not work. He didn’t want me to have the means to support myself. He wanted me solidly under his thumb just like my mother and his children. So he told me that not only would he put me out on the streets and withdraw all his financial support, which meant no school as well, but that he’d make certain there was no place that would hire me.

“I was numb. I didn’t care about what happened to me. But it made me ill to know that he was beating my mother and I was supposed to knuckle under to his threats and go on as if I didn’t know what was going on behind closed doors in that house.”

She closed her eyes as more tears slipped soundlessly down her cheeks.

“He beat her to get back at me. He admitted it when I saw her next. When I saw what he’d done to her, he stood there and told me it was my fault. That
I’d
done this to her. That if I’d kept my mouth shut and minded my business that this wouldn’t have happened to her. And he did and said all of this right in front of my mother. Blamed me as she stood there, bruises on her face and around her neck. Her hand was swollen and bruised. I think he’d broken several of her fingers, but of course he’d done nothing to help her. Hadn’t taken her to a doctor. Hadn’t put them in a cast. And I had to watch my mother stand there, eyes dull, all the life taken right out of her while he blamed me for the fact that she was in pain. I’ll never forget the way she looked at me. Not with blame, but begging. She was begging me to let it go. Not to make him angry again.”