03_A Family To Call Her Own (26 page)

Rebecca hugged the shaking girl, trying to control her seething rage. “Did you tell your parents?” she asked, struggling to maintain an even tone.

“N-no,” the girl sobbed.

“Don’t you think you should?”

“I…I don’t know,” she replied helplessly.

“Would it help if I called? Asked them to come over here?”

“I…I think so.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do.”

An hour later Rebecca stared at Melanie’s parents in disbelief after sending Melanie out of the room. “You mean you aren’t going to do anything about this?” she demanded, her eyes blazing.

John Lewis rubbed a hand wearily across his face. “Look, Ms. Matthews, Melanie is a good girl and we want to protect her. But Jack is the son of the plant manager, and my job is already in jeopardy. Betty here has medical expenses, and I have four kids to support. I can’t afford to take any risks. Besides, it worked out okay. Nothing happened.”

“Nothing?” Rebecca’s voice was outraged. “Mr. Lewis, Melanie was traumatized last night. An incident like that can leave emotional scars that never heal. And retribution in the workplace is illegal.”

“Yeah. So they say. But that doesn’t stop it from happening,” he replied wearily. “We’ll do our best to keep her out of situations where something like this could happen again. And we’ll keep her away from that boy. That’s all we can do.”

Rebecca knew it was useless to press the point, and she watched in helpless frustration as they left, their arms around their daughter. She knew they loved Melanie, knew they meant what they said about doing their best to protect her. But she also knew it was wrong to let that boy get away with what bordered on criminal behavior. What if that other car hadn’t driven up and prevented him from finishing what he started? Melanie was lucky. She’d escaped with her virtue intact. But Rebecca knew she could easily carry the emotional scars for the rest of her life.

Rebecca prowled around the restaurant restlessly, too angry to even think straight. She needed to do something to work off her anger, release some of the hyper energy coursing through her veins. Cooking always helped, she thought, heading for the kitchen. A glance at her watch told her she had three hours before Zach and Isabel were scheduled to pick her up for dinner. Hopefully by then she would calm down.

As he passed Rebecca’s restaurant, Zach eased his foot off the accelerator in surprise. She’d mentioned at church that she planned to stop by for a little while, but that was hours ago. Why was her car still here?

He pulled up to the curb and parked, then hesitated. He’d been on his way to her apartment, knowing he was an hour early, hoping she wouldn’t mind. A friend of Isabel’s from Sunday school had unexpectedly invited her for dinner, a movie and a slumber party, and Zach had agreed. He was happy Isabel had made some friends her own age. And, on a more selfish note, he was also grateful for the unexpected opportunity to see Rebecca alone.

Frankly, he was beginning to worry about the lack of progress in their relationship. While Rebecca seemed comfortable with small intimacies, his attempts to get closer to her emotionally made her tense. He could feel her withdraw, close down, put up a No Trespassing sign. And he’d promised not to push. He’d kept that promise, but it grew more difficult daily.

Rebecca had said once that she wasn’t a woman who liked to be touched. And he knew, somewhere in her background, there must be a good reason for that. She hadn’t chosen to share it with him, which was her right. But he’d hoped that his patience and consideration would eventually make her comfortable enough to trust him, to reveal the secrets of her heart that made her wary.

So far that hadn’t happened. And he was running out of time. Isabel was leaving in two weeks. His leave was over a week after that. He had some important decisions to make, and a lot of those decisions hinged on Rebecca. He couldn’t wait any longer to discuss their situation. He’d held off too long already, hoping things would progress in their relationship, but the status quo persisted. Now it was time to find out why.

Rebecca stirred the soup, banged the lid on the pot and then let the spoon clatter to the stainless steel counter. For some reason, making noise helped her vent the anger that still consumed her, even after two hours.

She slammed a pan on the stove and turned on the heat, then paused as an insistent knocking penetrated the other noises in the kitchen. She glanced toward the back door with annoyance, then wiped her hands on her apron and strode over to yank it open.

Zach’s smile faded to a frown as his sweeping glance took in her flushed face, clenched jaw and the lines of strain around her rigid mouth. “Are you all right?” he asked without preamble.

“Of course I’m all right,” she snapped, glancing irritably at her watch. “What are you doing here, anyway? I thought you were going to pick me up at six. At home. And where’s Isabel?”

His frown deepened at Rebecca’s uncharacteristic bad humor, and a tingle of alarm raced along his spine. “What’s wrong, Rebecca?”

She pushed some loose strands of hair back from her face and glared at him. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?” she demanded tersely. “And where’s Isabel?”

“A friend from Sunday school invited her to spend the night and go to a movie.”

“I thought we were all having dinner together.”

“She wanted to go, Rebecca. I’m glad she has a friend. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

Suddenly Rebecca wrinkled her nose. She turned in dismay and, with a muttered exclamation, dashed toward the smoking pan on the stove. Zach followed more slowly, propping a shoulder against the wall and folding his arms across his chest as he watched her. He’d never seen her this upset. Anger was seething out of every pore in her body.

She dropped the pan into the sink, then turned to the carrots lying next to the cutting board and began to chop them viciously. When Zach remained silent, she looked up at him irritably. “I don’t need an audience,” she declared crossly.

“I was just trying to give you some time to cool down,” he said, striving for a mild tone even as his nerves grew taut.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

In reply she gave him a smoldering look, then went back to the carrots.

“Are you angry at me, Rebecca?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

“You could have fooled me.”

“Sorry,” she said shortly, continuing to chop.

“Well, you’re obviously angry about something. So do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

There was silence for several long seconds, and Zach began to think she was going to ignore this question, too. But finally she spoke.

“Do you know Melanie Lewis?” she asked curtly. “One of my waitresses?”

Zach frowned. “Yes. She’s in one of my classes, as a matter of fact. Why?”

“She went to the end-of-the-school-year dance last night with the son of her father’s boss, and he attacked her.”

Zach straightened up abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean, he attacked her?”

“Exactly what I said.” She gave him a cursory account of the incident, her voice shaking with anger. “And if another car full of students hadn’t come by that boy might be facing criminal charges right now,” she concluded bluntly.

“Is she okay?”

“Physically, yes. Emotionally, I’m not so sure. I talked to her parents about it, but they’re not going to do anything. Can you believe that?” she demanded irately.

“I don’t know how much they
could
do,” he replied thoughtfully. “Those situations are very sticky. We really don’t know all of the circumstances. Maybe it was just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding!” Rebecca stared at him disbelievingly, so angry she could barely choke out the words. “She was practically raped!”

“That’s a serious charge, Rebecca,” he replied gravely.

“It’s true!”

“We haven’t heard his side.”

“I don’t need to! I heard Melanie’s! I saw her eyes! I know her!”

“I’m not saying she wasn’t frightened,” Zach tried to placate her. “But maybe she just got in over her head. Maybe he misinterpreted her cues.”

“Or maybe he just decided to add another notch to his belt,” she replied with cold fury.

“Rebecca, all I’m saying is that we don’t know the whole story,” he pointed out. “A charge like that could ruin a young boy’s life.”

“Well, what do you think it does to the victim’s?” she shot back.

The conversation was getting way too emotional for Zach. “Look, Rebecca, calm down. You did everything you could. You talked to Melanie. You talked to her parents. They made their decision. There’s nothing else you can do.”

She finished the carrots and reached for the celery, pausing only to glare at Zach in silence.

“Rebecca, there’s a real stigma attached to a charge like this, whether it’s true or not,” he tried again. “I did a series on date rape a couple of years ago, and it’s a murky issue.”

She looked at him, her eyes blazing. “Oh, so Mr. Journalist thinks he’s an expert just because he wrote a few articles,” she retorted sarcastically.

“It was an in-depth series,” he replied defensively. “As a matter of fact, it won several awards.”

“Well, excuse me. I guess that qualifies you as an expert,” she said derisively.

His own temper was beginning to flare. Planting his fists on his hips, he faced her across the counter. “And you are? What makes you such an expert on the topic?” he flung back at her.

She stopped and glared at him, one hand clenched around the knife, the other white-knuckled as it gripped the edge of the counter. When she spoke, her voice was low, but it contained a harsh undertone of bitterness, and it shook with barely controlled rage.

“Because when I was Melanie’s age, I came this close,” she held up one trembling hand and measured a meager half-inch gap between her thumb and index finger, “to having it happen to me.”

Chapter Twelve

F
or several eternal seconds of quivering, shocked silence they stared at each other across the room, Zach stunned by Rebecca’s words, she equally stunned that she’d spoken them.

In a two-second explanation consisting of one simple sentence, Zach finally had an answer to the question that had troubled him for weeks. Now he understood why Rebecca was so afraid to let anyone close. The traumatic experience she’d endured as an impressionable young girl had apparently convinced her that accepting a date carried serious physical risks or, at the very least, expectations of physical closeness. But Rebecca didn’t even engage in casual displays of affection, let alone intimacy. With her sensitive nature, that frightening early dating experience would have been a nightmare, one that had pursued her relentlessly through the years. It had taken what should, in the right context, have been a beautiful experience and made it an act of aggression, totally devoid of tenderness or even consideration. No wonder she rarely dated after that, was still so fearful when even a hint of passion surfaced.

As these thought raced through Zach’s mind, his shock rapidly gave way to anger. How could anyone have hurt this warm, vulnerable, caring woman? he railed silently. His jaw clenched as a cold fury enveloped him and a surge of protectiveness swept over him, so fierce it took his breath away. For the first time in his life he felt capable of doing serious damage to another human being.

Rebecca was aware of Zach’s changing expressions, but only on a peripheral level. She was too busy trying to cope with the fact that she’d just revealed her most closely guarded secret. Melanie’s story had brought back her own experience with a shattering, vivid intensity that tilted her world out of alignment. The anger she’d vented on Zach had been directed not at him, but at the boy who had scarred her indelibly so many years ago. And it was also directed at herself, for allowing his despicable behavior to ruin her life all these years. It was almost as if a release valve had been flicked open, and all the anger and hurt she’d bottled up inside for almost twenty years had finally burst forth.

As she stared at Zach across the room, trying to decide what to do next, his figure suddenly wavered before her eyes, and the room tilted strangely. She groped for the edge of the counter, then grasped it tightly as she tried to take a deep breath. But her lungs refused to cooperate.

Zach saw the sudden look of disorientation in Rebecca’s eyes, took in her white-knuckled grip on the edge of the counter and moved rapidly around the work area, praying he would reach her before she nosedived against the unforgiving edge of the stainless steel work space.

Despite the fuzziness in her brain, however, Zach’s movement registered, and a surge of panic swept over her. In a triumph of will over body she fought off the sudden attack of vertigo, backing away from him unsteadily even as she rode the waves of blackness that crashed over her. “Don’t touch me,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her body, staring at him with frightened eyes as she willed herself to remain upright.

He stopped a few feet away, sensing that she needed the safety of distance for the moment but poised to reach out to her instantly if she started to pass out. She looked so alone, so vulnerable, so in need of being held. It took every ounce of his willpower to honor her plea when his overriding instinct was to pull her into his arms and hold her until she felt safe and protected and loved.

He saw a shudder ripple through her, and he swallowed convulsively, his gut clenching as burning rage once more consumed him. But comfort and compassion, not anger, were what she needed now, he reminded himself. If she wouldn’t let him go to her, maybe he could get her to come to him. Slowly, nonthreateningly, he lifted his hand and held it out to her.

“Let me help, Rebecca,” he murmured softly.

She shook her head jerkily. The dizziness was gone, but now she felt oddly weak—and weary. “It’s too late,” she told him, her voice flat and lifeless.

“I don’t think it is. Talking about things can help a lot, and I’m a good listener.” When she didn’t respond, he took a tentative step forward. “At least take my hand,” he coaxed.

She looked down at the strong but gentle hand he offered, then up into his compassionate, caring eyes. Maybe she
should
talk about it. Her secret was out now, anyway. Perhaps the Lord had let her make that slip as a sign that it was time to share her story, to open her heart to this special man. Perhaps by doing that, she could truly begin to heal.