Stay With Me (18 page)

Again with that sound, “Mmmmm.”

When he’d said he would spend the night in case she
needed him, he hadn’t counted on this. Waking up with her warm and soft against
him was courting danger. Still, if he could get her to make that lovesick sigh
again…

With both arms wrapped around her waist, he pulled
her back to him so that their bodies were pressed against one another from stem
to stern. After two full seconds of bliss, every muscle in her body grew rigid.

She straightened and started to pull away from him,
struggling against his arms at her waist.

He released her, utterly confused. What had
happened? Yes, he was behind her, but he hadn’t snuck up. She had been pleased
if those delicious sounds she made were any indication. It must have been when
he had pressed himself against her. Oh. She would be able to feel everything
through those thin cotton pajamas.

He got up and followed her across the room to the
table where she mindlessly shuffled a few envelopes and papers left there. “I'm
sorry, Rebecca. If I get in that kind of proximity to you, especially first
thing in the morning, it’s, uh…”—man, this is awkward—“…uh, all systems are go.
I don't think I can help it." He paused, and then to reassure her added,
“It doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything about it.”

Standing with her back toward him, she didn’t
acknowledge what he said. He used both hands on her upper arms to turn her
toward him.

She was pale, but that could have been due to the
fact she had just awoken. The pain and tears in her eyes couldn’t be dismissed
so easily.

 Her shoulders went limp. “I’m sorry. I know you’re
not. It was fine when you kissed my neck.” She shook her head again and wiped a
single tear from her eye. “Better than fine. I thought I’d died and gone to
heaven…but then, when you pulled me tighter, and I could feel you…it just
triggered a bad memory.”

A bad memory? Chris tensed. What hadn’t she told
him? Did this have to do with the guy at Bible camp when she was a teenager?
She had only said that he came on a little strong. It didn’t sound like the
kind of thing that could generate tears years later, but if feeling him against
her like that triggered a memory then the incident wasn’t as innocent as she
had led him to believe.

“Is this about this guy from Bible camp? Cause if it
is, it sounds like he did a lot more than come on too strong.” He framed her
still-pale face in his hands, and her chin quivered. “Rebecca, what did he do
to you?”

She jerked out of his grasp and turned again to the
table although this time she pressed her hands into the boards. “Nothing more,
really. He couldn’t. John stopped him.”

“Wait a second.” Chris walked to the other side of
the table so he could see her face again. “John? As in Father John?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And what do you think would have happened if
Father John hadn’t been there?”

Her mouth opened and closed. “I…I don’t. I can’t. I
don’t think about it. Nothing did happen. Jeremy grabbed me from behind and
pinned me against a wall with his body. Then John came and confronted him, and
he left.”

She crossed her arms in front of her. He could tell
from her posture she wouldn’t say any more. He sighed and rubbed his fingers
over his eyes and brows. Then he grabbed his phone off the counter and sent a
quick text message.

“Who are you texting?” She sounded anxious, and
he’d bet she feared he had texted Father John, which made Chris certain
something more happened that she hadn’t yet told him.

“I texted my mom. I’m going to make you pancakes,
and I need her recipe. Do you have syrup?”

Wiping her eyes once more, she straightened her
shoulders. “I think so.” She opened the refrigerator and rearranged several
bottles before she located a small jug of maple syrup and set it on the
counter.

“Go ahead and get dressed if you want. I think I
can find what I need. I can’t stay long after breakfast though.”

“Why not?”

“Remember? I’m helping Tom and his wife move
today.”

“Oh, that’s right.”

Once they had finished their breakfast, and Rebecca
assured him that her pain was almost gone, Chris kissed her and left. He had to
hurry if he wanted to fit in a stop before he got to Tom’s apartment.

***

Father John told Chris he could find him in the
school gym. The lingering odor of stale sweat and the sound of a ball bouncing
on a wooden floor led Chris right to him. He walked through the double doors as
Father John dribbled a basketball with one hand and then the other before
landing a three-point shot from the edge of the court. Ordinarily, Chris would
have joined him, but he figured he’d be getting enough of a workout hauling boxes
and furniture the rest of the day. Father John held onto the ball as Chris
crossed the gym and once he was within earshot called, “So, what’s on your
mind?”

“Rebecca.”

Father John smiled as he dribbled the ball. “Is
there ever anything else on your mind these days?”

The dribbling slowed as Chris approached. “I want
to know about something that happened when you and Rebecca first met at summer
camp.”

Father John put the ball under his arm and ambled
over to Chris. “What do you want to know?”

Chris took a breath. “I know that some creep named
Jeremy tried something with her, and you stopped it, but she won’t say much
more.” He snatched the ball from Father John and spun it around between his
hands, trying to use up some of his nervous energy. “All I know is that the one
time I tried to come up behind her and surprise her, she lost it. Let out an
ear-piercing scream and seemed not to even recognize me at first. Then this
morning she freaked out when I held her really close, again from behind. The
only thing she’d say was that he grabbed her from behind and pinned her to a
wall. Then you came and confronted him.”

Father John ran a hand over his hair. “I haven’t
thought about this in years, Chris.”

“She said he didn’t hurt her. Is she telling me the
truth?”

Father John hesitated, and Chris tensed.

“Yes, she is. He didn’t physically hurt her. From
what you’re saying, she must have been more emotionally bothered by it than she
let on at the time.”

“So she was okay after it happened?”

“She seemed to be, but . . .”

“But what?”

“Does she know you’re talking to me about this?”

Chris didn’t want to play these games. He needed
answers, and if Rebecca wouldn’t supply them, Father John would. “I asked, but
she clammed up.”

“Then it sounds like she’s not ready to talk about
it with you.”

“Listen, if she’s going to wig out every time I
come up behind her, then I need to know what happened to her.”

“I think you should tell her that.”

Chris groaned. He wanted to take the basketball and
slam it into the floor so hard it would bounce up and hit the ceiling.

Father John sighed. “I think this would be better
coming from her, but I’ll tell you what I know. It’s not much.”

“Thank you.” He ran his hand through his hair and
waited.

“Rebecca and I became friends over the first week
of camp. We seemed to click. We were going to meet and go over to the rec room
to play video games or something. I said I’d meet her at the first-aid office
since it was midway between our cabins and the rec room. It started to rain, so
when I got there and didn’t see her outside it didn’t surprise me. When I
stepped in, Jeremy had her pinned to the wall like she said. He was big enough
that his sheer size and body weight were enough to keep her from escaping.” He
stopped speaking for a second, and Chris sensed this part would be news to him.

“He had his hands around her waist, and he was
struggling to get her shorts off. Actually, they weren’t shorts. We laughed
about it later, but she said those ugly, modest ‘skort’ things her dad made her
wear saved her. Apparently they had a clip, a button, and a zipper, and that’s
why Jeremy fumbled with them for so long.”

“He didn’t get them off?”

“No.”

Chris let go of the breath he held. “Thank God for
skorts.”

“I yelled for him to stop, and he did. He could’ve
easily taken me out, but he didn’t. He sort of shoved her at me and left.”

“What happened? Was he disciplined? Did you call
the police?”

“We walked over to the camp office and told the
counselors what happened. They questioned Jeremy, and his parents came and got
him the next day. I never saw him again.”

“The police?”

“If charges were filed, that would’ve been up to
Rebecca’s father.”

“You sound doubtful.”

Father John twisted his lips. “All I know is her
dad didn’t come and get her. She stayed the week. And honestly, she seemed
okay. We hung out a couple of times after that. Then I didn’t see her again
until you brought her to Mass.”

This made sense. An aggressive guy didn’t affect
your behavior eight years later. An attempted rape—and that’s sure what this
sounded like—that did.

“That explains her behavior. I don’t know why she
didn’t tell me.”

 “Maybe it embarrasses her?  Makes her feel like a
victim? Maybe it dredges it all up again. I don’t know.”

Chris glanced at his watch. He had to leave now if
he wanted to get to Tom’s place on time. He tossed the basketball back to
Father John. “I’ve got to go. Thanks for filling me in. She hasn’t come to
terms with this. It’s obviously still an issue.”

Pausing at the gym exit, Chris turned around and
yelled over the sound of the bouncing basketball. “Hey, Father John!”

The dribbling stopped, and Father John lifted his
chin and met his gaze.

“Thanks for keeping Rebecca safe.”

Father John raised his hand.

Pushing through the gym doors and down the stairs,
Chris jogged to the school exit. One side of his mouth lifted in a grin. Father
John had told him what he needed to know, but funny how he left out at least
one detail from the weeks at camp—that he’d kissed Rebecca before it was all
over.

15

A Dream So Real

Rebecca stared at her reflection in Abby’s living
room window. “Abby, what’s wrong with me?”

“I thought you’d never ask. I keep a list. Can you
hang on while I grab it?”

Rebecca flopped backwards on the loveseat and
rolled her eyes. “Come on, Abby. I’m being serious. I’m messed up. Why is
that?”

 “Mom left, and Dad stayed. They screwed us up
royally.” She continued folding baby blankets and burp pads from the heap
beside her on the couch. “Is there a particular deficiency you’d like to focus
on today?”

“I’m in love with Chris. I wasn’t sure, and then
yesterday morning he was holding me close, and I knew. I think I’ve been in
denial for weeks. I’ve got it so bad for him I feel like I’m going to crawl out
of my skin when I’m close to him. And I can’t say it to him. I don’t know why.
I want to. I tried to. The words won’t come out of my mouth. He’s been so
patient with me, but I know he wants to hear me say it. He needs to hear
it...he deserves to hear it.”

“Does he know, even though you haven’t said it?”

“How could he?”

“I know Mom left a lot unsaid when she left, but
really, Rebecca. When a man and a woman love each other, they—”

“Stop it, Abby. You and I both made promises about
sex before marriage.” Couldn’t Abby be serious for once? And she’d about had it
with her treating her like she was some kind of simpleton because she actually
lived what they were taught.

“Oh, your issues go
way
deeper than that. Do
you let him touch you? Kiss you?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then he probably knows.”

“What do you mean about ‘my issues’?

Ian let out a cry over the baby monitor.

“It’s as plain as the nose on Daddy’s face. Hold
on.”

Abby pushed a baby towel she had been folding back
onto the pile and walked out of the room. Abby cooed at the baby over the
monitor, and it clicked off. Rebecca shut off the companion speaker on the end
table next to her. In a few seconds, Abby strolled in with Ian. His pink lips
opened in a huge yawn that made him shudder. He looked so cute in his baseball
onesie, Rebecca could eat him up.

“Here,” Rebecca said, holding out her hands, “I’ll
take the little butterball.”

Abby handed the baby over and returned to the
couch. She held something that Rebecca hadn’t noticed at first. Abby held it up
so she could see it—a picture frame. “Ever seen this?”

Ian squirmed and fussed in her lap. She bounced him
on her knee and squinted at the photo. It looked like a picture of her, only
she didn’t remember it being taken or recognize the clothes she wore.

“It’s Mom,” Abby said.

Rebecca’s eyes darted back and forth between the
picture and her sister, stunned. “I look just like her.”

“Identical. This was taken when she was
twenty-three years old.”

“Where did you get that?”

Abby lifted her chin. “I found it in the top of
Dad’s closet.”

“You took it?”

“Years ago. I wanted a picture of Mom, and he never
put any out, so I took this one.” She paused for a few seconds. “Do you get it
now, Rebecca? This is why you’ve got a hot guy who’s falling-all-over-himself
in love with you, and he’s not getting as much action as Ian is right now.”

Ian grabbed onto her breast with his hand and tried
to latch onto her through her blouse.

“He wants you,” she told Abby and handed him over.

“Yeah, and Chris wants
you
. I’m sure of it.
Becca, have you looked at your boyfriend? Because he could probably have any woman
he wants. If he rides in on that Harley of his, he could probably have two—at
the same time.”

Why did Abby think this was all about sex? Sex
played a part, but not in the way Abby thought. “Abby, us having sex is not the
issue. Chris wants to wait as much as I do.”

“You’re kidding, right? I thought he was Catholic.”

“He is.” Where was she going with this? Didn’t all
Christians believe sex was for marriage?

“I’ve never met a Catholic yet that had a problem
with sex before marriage, living together, birth control or any of it.”

Her mouth hung open, then closed. “Uh…I don’t know
what to say. Chris would take issue with all of that, and from what I’ve read,
he’s toeing the line on everything the Catholic Church says.”

Abby got Ian situated at her breast and sighed.
“Okay, so you’re both freaks, which I of course mean in the best, most loving
way. You’ve still got issues. Look at that picture again.”

The frame sat on the pile of unfolded laundry.
Rebecca lifted it and stared at the image.

“What—or rather who—do you think Dad sees when he
looks at you?”

Where was Abby going with this? Of course he’d see
her mother, but—

“How much do you know about Mom? Did you know she
flirted with anyone with a y chromosome? Did you know that Dad caught her
meeting another guy?”

 Her mouth went dry, and Rebecca swallowed hard.
“How do you know all this?”

“Mom kept a journal.”

“You took that, too?”

“No, but I read it.”

The revelations were coming too fast for Rebecca
now, and her head spun. “She cheated on Dad?”

“No, never, but she craved the attention she got
from other men. Maybe because Dad didn’t give her any of his. I don’t know. But
do you see why Dad has said and done the things he has with you? I mean,
besides the fact he’s a mean—” Abby looked at Emma and Ricky, who were both
assembling wooden blocks within hearing range, and amended her statement.
“Besides the fact he’s a big meanie, do you understand now why he’s had it out
for you? And why when that douche bag assaulted you at camp he came down even
harder?”

So much made sense now. “He thinks I’m like her.”’

“Bingo.” Abby said it like everything was solved.
Now that the universe had been explained, Rebecca could run across a flowery
summer meadow into Chris’s outstretched arms and everything would be okay.
Except it was not okay. What if she were like her mother? Nature versus
nurture. Rebecca was a loser on both counts.

***

What did her dad expect her to do? He had called at
the crack of dawn complaining that he’d thrown out his back, which wasn’t out
of the ordinary. Even the simplest movements could on occasion leave him laid
up with an ice pack and unable to manage the simplest chores for the better
part of a week. There wasn’t much she could do about his back. He knew that.

Her dad explained that after twenty-five years with
the same company, he had switched home insurance last month to get a better
rate. The new insurer sent out an inspector, who noted that a few boards on the
front porch were rotted and must be replaced before the new coverage would go
into effect. They gave her dad thirty days to make the correction. Thirty days
just so happened to be Monday, and he needed to have photographic proof of the
project’s completion emailed to the insurance company by Monday at noon. He
hadn’t even begun. His back rendered him incapable of completing his weekend
project.

Not knowing how to handle tools, there was no way
she could tackle this job on her own.  Her dad knew that, too. She could only
conclude that he wanted Chris’s help. He wouldn’t know if Chris was handy—neither
did she really, but since he maintained a motorcycle and his job was somewhat
mechanical in nature, it wasn’t a bad bet.

The whole thing made Rebecca’s blood boil. It took
a helluva lot of nerve for him to even think he could count on Chris’s help after
the way he’d treated him. Well, if he wanted Chris’s help, he’d have to swallow
his pride and ask for it.

To her surprise, he did. When for the third time
Rebecca told him she didn’t know what she could do, he finally said, “If that
boyfriend of yours is the Christian he says he is, maybe he’s willing to come
over here and give me a hand.”

Well, gee, since you asked so
nicely…

Not wanting to commit Chris to anything, she told
her dad she’d talk to Chris and let him know. And then she had to follow through,
despite the fact she didn’t want to bother Chris with this. She knew what his
plans were. He and three friends were going on a motorcycle ride as long as the
weather held out. He had wanted her to come along, but since none of the other
guys were bringing a girlfriend, she had declined. Chris planned to stop by
early in the evening, and they would do something together.

“Hey, is your ride still on?”

“Absolutely. Change your mind about coming?” He
sounded hopeful.

“No. Actually, I’m calling to ask for a favor.”

“What do you need?”

“Well, it’s not for me. It’s for my dad.”

Silence. She explained the situation and ended
with, “So, he’s in a bind, and he’s hoping you might be able to help him out.”
More silence.

Chris sighed. “I’ve been looking forward to this
ride for weeks.”

“I know.”

“But, if I can build some goodwill with your dad, I
guess it’s worth it.”

“This is my dad, Chris. I’m not promising
goodwill.”

“Well, then I’ll have to think of it as doing a
good deed and expecting nothing in return. You’d better tell him though, that
I’ve never done this before. I mean, it seems straightforward, but sometimes
when you start a project you run into unexpected problems. I’ll do my best, but
I can almost guarantee it won’t be a perfect job.”

“Well, seeing as though he’s in no condition to do
any job, I don’t think he can be too fussy about it.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a half hour. Where are you
at?”

“My apartment. I’ll meet you at my dad’s. And,
Chris—I owe you one.”

***

When Rebecca arrived, she found Chris on the porch
in old jeans and a tee shirt, a pencil behind his ear, squatting to measure the
length of the tongue and groove floorboards.

“Do you want to be my ‘Tool Time Girl’?”

“Huh?”

“My lovely assistant.”

She didn’t know how lovely she appeared in a long,
baggy, tee shirt and Capri-length leggings, but it would have to suffice. “Oh.
Sure.”

He extended the tape measure to her. “Grab this end
and pull.” Chris scribbled the length on a small piece of bare two-by-four
lumber. “I brought what tools I have, but it’s not much. I could borrow some of
my dad’s stuff, but if your dad’s got what we need that would be better.”

“I’ll show you where he keeps stuff.”

She and Chris walked to the detached garage at the
rear of the yard, and they came out with two sawhorses, a band saw, a sander, a
crow bar, and a hammer and nails.

“So, why didn’t your dad have Joel come over here
and help?”

Rebecca laughed. “Uh, Joel can’t even work a
screwdriver. He’s a good lawyer, but he has no practical skills. Abby takes
care of all that stuff, and what she can’t do, she hires someone else to do.
Here’s an analogy—as Jamie is to cooking, so Joel is to carpentry.”

“That makes it crystal clear.”

“Dad’s not exactly Joel’s biggest fan anyway. Dad
kind of ignores him.”

“Oh.” His lips set in a thin line, as if he’d just
glimpsed his own fate.

Chris made steady progress all morning as the day
grew warmer and more humid. By noon he and his sweat-soaked shirt had made two
trips to Lowe’s, and by the way he grumbled about the rotted support beams he discovered,
she’d bet another trip was in the offing.

Rebecca did whatever he asked, which wasn’t much
and consisted mainly of holding boards steady while he sawed, handing him
tools, and talking to him while he did something that didn’t require much concentration.
She brought him lots of water and a sandwich for lunch. When dinner time came,
she got Chinese takeout for them and her dad, who had yet to emerge from his
bedroom.

She didn’t mind watching Chris work. The back of
his neck and arms had reddened in the day’s sun even though they had set the
sawhorses up in the shade of the elm tree in the front yard. She watched as he
finished sanding the boards, and it reminded her of their weekend camping trip
when she had been bowled over by his masculinity. He had said this job wouldn’t
be perfect, but near as she could tell, it was.

By early evening, he had finished replacing and
sanding the boards. Rebecca brought him a big glass of strawberry lemonade as
he took a break before painting. She sat beside him on the porch steps, but
when she touched his leg and leaned in to kiss his cheek, he pushed her hand
back and stood.

“Thanks for the lemonade. It hit the spot.”

She didn’t even try to hide the hurt on her face.
“Did I do something wrong?”

Chris stopped. “No, of course not.” He lowered his
voice so only she could hear him. “Part of the reason I’m here busting my
you-know-what is to score points with your dad. If he looks out and sees us
canoodling, I can kiss that goodwill goodbye. When I said I wouldn’t be the
cause of him going off on you again, I meant it.” He took a breath and
lightened his tone. “So, save your tokens of affection for later. I promise you
I’ll cash them in.”