Unbroken (5 page)

When Britney awoke Sunday morning she felt surprisingly well rested.  It was rather shocking, especially considering the tremendous fear and anxiety that she’d been experiencing a mere twenty-four hours ago.  Looking up at the ceiling, her thoughts turned to the events of the day before and inevitably to Jake.  He was a surprise too.  He was courteous, considerate and remarkably down to earth, outwardly displaying none of the off-putting arrogance and diffidence one might expect from someone so famous.  Thinking about him, she suddenly recalled the dream she’d had and felt a sudden heat warm her cheeks.  Holy smokes!  Romantic fantasies were a thing of the past, or at least they had been, she realized with a touch of disbelief. 

Recalling the passionate nature of the dream
, she felt slightly disconcerted.  However, she also felt something else, something far more unexpected.  It was a sudden, tiny glimmer of hope somewhere deep within her, a hope that maybe she wasn’t as irrevocably broken as she’d feared.  It was shocking and a bit discombobulating.  Was there the slightest chance that Randall Littrell
hadn’t
completely destroyed that part of her, as she’d feared?  That what she’d been through, the horror she’d been forced to witness, hadn’t left her sexually repressed for all eternity? For the first time in years, she wasn’t so sure.

Climbing out of bed, she told herself
not to get overly excited or to read too much into it.  It was foolish to place so much significance on a dream.  Seriously, was it so hard to believe that even
her
subconscious could be affected by someone like Jake McCoy? She might be broken, but she certainly wasn’t blind.  Surely that’s all it was and nothing to get worked up about. 

Purposefully redirecting her thoughts, she moved
to the closet where she’d hung up her clothes the night before. Reaching out her hand, she deliberately avoided the neatly hung suits, grabbing instead, a white, long-sleeved knit top.  Then, moving to the nearby dresser, she pulled a pair of loose khaki pants from one of the drawers.  Thankfully she’d forced herself to bring along some clothes that weren’t a part of her customary office attire.  It hadn’t been easy. Her clothes, like her conservative hairstyle and oversized glasses were an integral part of the protective barrier that she had created around herself; they were her armor.  She had been hiding behind it for so long now that she wasn’t sure how difficult it would be to lower it, even a little, but she was going to try.  Tossing the clothes onto the bed, she walked into her private bathroom and turned on the shower. 

When she stepped out of the large walk-in shower approximately fifteen minutes later, Britney slipped on her bra and panties and then stood in front of the large mirror above the sink.  She rarely looked at herself anymore,
really and truly looked at herself that is
, and avoided gazing too long at her reflection.  Because sometimes, when she did, she could still hear his voice.

“You’re so beautiful, sweet thing.  But you know that, don’t you? Your face, your hair, your body, the way you look, even the way you dress, it’s all deliberate.  You wanted me to notice you, didn’t you?  You use your beauty to make men look at you, to want you.  You like it when we do.  You wanted me to look at you, to want you.  You wanted me to pick you.” 

She looked at herself now though, noting the vivid blue of her eyes, the long thick lashes and delicately arched eyebrows, the smooth soft skin and full pink lips, the perfectly shaped nose, that had once been just slightly too wide and the flawlessly curved chin that had once been a tad too pointed.  She’d always been pretty enough, she supposed, but the tiny imperfections that had kept her from being considered truly beautiful were gone now.  They’d been unwittingly erased by the hands of the skillful surgeon who had done too good of a job repairing the terrible damage Randall Littrell’s fists had wrought.  It had all happened just hours after she’d been rushed to the hospital, when she had been too out of it to know or to care.  But if she had a choice, she would have given anything to have those little imperfections back.  She didn’t like her new
perfected
face; it drew far too much attention.

Blinking,
she forced the unpleasant thoughts from her mind and reached for the hairdryer lying next to the sink.  She turned from the mirror then, focusing on drying her wet hair.  Once that was accomplished, she reached for her hairbrush, pulling the bristles through the length of her long blonde tresses until they hung in soft waves around her shoulders.  When it was smooth, she carefully twisted it into a coil, securing it at the back of her head with a half a dozen pins.  Moments later she got dressed, grabbed her glasses from the nightstand and then left her room.

Jake was sitting at the island just finishing what looked to be a large bowl of cereal when Britney entered the kitchen.  As she walked forward she eyed the nearly empty bowl, fairly certain she detected a few remaining green clovers, pink hearts and multi-colored rainbows that could only be Lucky Charms.  He looked up then and caught her eyeing the contents of the bowl. 

“Want some?” Jake
asked, before spooning the last few bites into his mouth.  He gestured to the box sitting on the nearby counter, but doubted that she would indulge in the marshmallowy goodness of his favorite cereal.  He kind of figured her for an oatmeal kind of gal or maybe a whole-wheat bagel. 

“Sure,” Britney replied
, noting his look of surprise as she went to the cupboard and grabbed a bowl, and then pulled a spoon from the drawer below. 

Jake watched her curiously as she prepared her cereal. 
Lucky Charms for Miss Taylor, who would have guessed?  As he continued to watch her, he noted her clothes and breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.  The outfit she was wearing wasn’t anything to write home about, but thankfully she wasn’t going to go traipsing around the great outdoors in one of the hideous business suits she seemed so fond of.  The sorry-looking glasses were firmly in place however, as was the dreadful hairdo that looked like someone had stuck a giant cinnamon roll onto the back of her head.  Hmm, she was a tough one to figure out.  Oh well, to each his own or rather
her
own, he thought to himself.

“How do you feel about ghost towns?” he asked, when she came and sat down across from him.

“Ghost towns?”  She looked at
him inquiringly as she lifted a spoonful of cereal to her mouth.

“There’s an old mining town not far from here,” he told her.  “The early prospectors built a gold dredge and mined the riv
er for several years.  But the town has been deserted for more than a century now and the dredge was eventually donated to the Forest Service.  It’s been cleaned up and turned into a historical site by a local volunteer group.  We could drive over if you’d like to see it.”

“I’d love to go,” Britney said honestly.  American history had always been one of her interests.  Her grandfather had been a real history buff and his fascination
with antiquity had rubbed off on her at an early age.  He’d started taking her to museums and to various historical sites when she was just a little girl.  It had been something special, something that just the two of them had shared.

“Great.  We can leave as soo
n as you finish your breakfast,” Jake said, rising from his chair.

Britney’s gaze followed
him as he carried his bowl to the sink.  He was dressed casually, wearing a cream-colored golf shirt with a logo she didn’t recognize, tan cargo shorts and an expensive-looking pair of running shoes.  He looked as drop-dead gorgeous as ever, and of course his tall, muscular frame was only an added bonus.  If he’d noticed her deviation from her customary business attire, she couldn’t tell.  However, if she was being honest with herself, the long pants and long-sleeved shirt weren’t that much of a departure from the shapeless business suits she usually wore in public.

As they drove to
Custer, the old mining town, Jake pointed out various sites along the way, including Rosemary’s small bed and breakfast.  “She bought the place a couple of years after my Uncle Bill died,” he told her.  “It’s been good for her.”

“It’s lovely,” she said, admiring the large
, pale-yellow two-story Victorian house fronted by a charmingly landscaped front yard and surrounded by a waist-high white picket fence.  She’d learned from Jake the night before, that Rosemary’s husband Bill had been killed in a car accident ten years earlier and that their only child, a daughter named Rayanne, lived with her husband John, an Air Force pilot, and their two daughters at the military base in Mountain Home, Idaho. 

S
he could easily understand why Jake liked to spend his down time here.  Stanley and the encompassing area couldn’t be more different from the big cities he spent the majority of his time in throughout the year.  There was a sense of unhurried peace and serenity about the place that was almost intoxicating.  It must be a refreshing change from the customary grind of life on the road, she thought as they continued driving.

“Keep an eye out as we head out of town,” Jake said.  “If we’re lucky we might spot some deer or maybe some elk
along the way.”

She did as he said
and it wasn’t long before Britney spotted several large animals in an open clearing not far from the road.  She quickly pointed them out to Jake and was thrilled when he pulled the car to the side of the road so that they could watch as the small herd of elk grazed in the grassy field. She wished she’d thought to bring her camera, but she’d left it at home in Minneapolis, so she had to settle for snapping a few photos with her cell phone.  She’d always enjoyed the outdoors growing up and she couldn’t help feeling a twinge of sadness that now days, other than going to work or taking the occasional business trip with Ian, she rarely ventured outside the safety of her condo.   

“Oh look,”
she exclaimed a few seconds later, pointing as several more elk emerged from the cover of trees that backed the open field.

“Yep, I see
‘em,” Jake said.  “Looks like they’ve got a couple of calves with them.” Watching Britney, he noted the excitement and animation in her expression as she surveyed the herd, her customary reserve slipping at her obvious enjoyment in the sight.  Again, he was slightly taken aback by the change.  Even though he’d known her only a short time, he was already starting to pick up on the subtle shifts in her behavior.  It was almost as if she had two distinct sides to her personality.  At times her demeanor was cool and unapproachable, but then he’d catch a glimpse of someone warm and friendly, someone who could chat with his grandfather and his aunt like they were old friends.  And oddly enough, she was someone who took obvious delight in the natural beauty of the outdoors, though she seemed to seldom venture out into it.  It was perplexing to say the least.

Once they’d finished surveying the herd and had gotten back onto the road, it wasn’t long before they reached their destination.  Pulling up to the site, Britney was relieved to see that there were only a few cars parked in the small parking lot.  She’d been a little worried that there might be a lot of tourists visiting the location, unsure what kind of draw the old town had for the area’s residents and visitors.  Jake McCoy was a well-known celebrity and was sure to attract attention in a large crowd. In addition, there was always the remote chance that she too could be recognized, though it was much more unlikely.  Fortunately, no one had recognized her since she’d moved to Minnesota; or if they had she wasn’t aware of it.  Looking around, it was clear that she needn’t have been concerned.

As they got out of the car,
Britney noticed that Jake didn’t bother reaching for the baseball cap he’d tossed onto the back seat when they’d left the house.  Apparently, he wasn’t concerned about being recognized either. 

“
Let’s head for the dredge first and then we can walk through the town,” he said, motioning toward the large weathered structure that hugged the river. 

They walk
ed the short distance to an old building with the words Yankee Fork Gold Dredge painted on the side in bold lettering and entered on the bottom level. Casting a quick glance around, it appeared to Britney that they were the only people inside, except for the freckle-faced teenage boy who stepped forward to greet them.

“Hi, I’m Mike,” he said.  “Are you guys interested in taking the tour?”

“We are,” Jake responded, reaching for his wallet.  He handed him a few bills, for there was a nominal charge for the tour, as the boy studied him curiously.  He got the feeling Mike thought that he recognized him and was trying to decide if he was right.  He smiled to himself, wondering how long it would take for the kid to get up the courage to ask him. 

As they began walking, following a few steps behind their young tour guide, Britney’s curious gaze mov
ed around the massive structure as Mike began his well-rehearsed dialogue. 

“
From 1940 until it closed in August of 1952, the dredge dug out rock and recovered gold by washing and separating the rock, dirt, and gold,” he began, and then pointed out various pieces of equipment, explaining the purpose and function of each one.  “The dredge is one-hundred and twelve feet long, fifty-four feet wide, sixty-four feet high and weighs nine hundred and eighty-eight tons.  It was powered by two seven-cylinder Ingersoll-Rand diesel engines, which produced the electricity that operated the dredge.”  He hesitated a moment, glancing toward Jake as if he wanted to ask him something, but then decided against it.  He then went on to describe the dredge process in detail, and when Britney asked the occasional question, he answered her knowledgeably.