Liberty (8 page)

Chapter Ten

H
e hit his wife. No. He didn’t believe it.

No!

He would never hit a woman. He would never
beat
a woman, but the scars were there—all over her beautiful body. They were her battle scars. Only a coward would hit a woman. Only a monster would hit a woman so soft and sweet and half his size. He was supposed to take care of her. He hit her? No, he didn’t believe it. Somebody hurt her, but it couldn’t have been him.

It did explain a lot, though. He now knew why she shied away from his touch.

He found himself at his mother’s house. He didn’t know anybody else in town, least of all himself. He knew something wasn’t right about his life. It was like he woke up as somebody else. He didn’t even feel comfortable in his own clothes.

“Ryan? What’s the matter? Why are your eyes red?” Mary rose from her place on the couch and rushed toward him. “Please tell me you didn’t hurt Lexy.”

He paused, almost not believing what he was hearing. “You knew I hit my wife?”

“Well...” She pursed her lips. “Yes. What exactly did she tell you?”

“That I nearly killed her. That she would kill me before I hit her again.”

Mary sat on the couch and slowly looked up at him. “Did you hit her?”

“No,” he yelled. “I didn’t hit her. I couldn’t hit her. What kind of man does that make me?”

“Not a good one,” she said softly.

“You need to tell me the story because I can’t go on like this.” He couldn’t have his wife live in fear. He would let her go before that happened.

“You were always a little crazy about Lexy. You saw her and you had to have her. I thought you loved her in a different way than your daddy loved me. You ran away and got married so quickly...” She rubbed her eyes and then looked at the floor. “Your daddy used to hit me.”

“What?”

“He’d hit me if dinner was late or if I didn’t iron his shirts right. Usually just a slap. I think that seeing your daddy hit me made you think it was okay for you to hit your wife. I was hoping that you loved your wife more than that. I was hoping that you wouldn’t hurt her.”

“She has scars all over her body. What did I do to her?”

“At first you were just like your daddy. You slapped her around a little when you were drunk. I thought that was an improvement because your father didn’t need to be drunk to hit me. But...” She pulled out a wicker box that rested beneath the coffee table. “Sometimes you hit her real hard and she would bruise, or her lip would bleed. And then there was the time when she was pregnant that you pushed her and she hit her stomach on the table.” Tears began to stream down her face. “She lost...” She choked on her words but she didn’t have to finish. They had no kids. He killed his own child. He was the lowest form of human existence. He didn’t think he was capable of that.

“You felt real bad after that. You quit drinking for a month. I’m sure if you knew she was pregnant you would have been more gentle with her.”

“Are you insane?” he whispered. “How could you make excuses for me? I don’t deserve excuses. Tell me the rest, Mom.”

“You used to call me Mama,” she said softly, but handed him three photos.

“You did this to her. I don’t know how it started, but you did this.”

“Shit.” His face felt wet and hot, his stomach queasy. Before him were pictures of a woman he didn’t recognize. Her delicate features were indistinguishable. Purple-and-black bruises were splattered across her skin like paint when it should only be the rich color of honey. Those slanted eyes that he loved so much were shut, not because Lexy closed them but because they were too swollen to be opened. Her cheeks, which should have showed the graceful curve of her bone structure, were puffed out to three times their size. He had literally been blown up—his nose broken, his face burned—but he still looked better than she had. She was deliberately beaten. Some man tried to kill her.

“You stopped drinking after that. You got sober and joined the marines.”

“Don’t.” He put his hand up to stop her. “You let this happen to her. You knew your son was a monster and you turned a blind eye. She could have died that night, but what makes me sicker is that she was getting the crap kicked out of her for eight years and you let it happen. You should have helped her get away. You should have picked up the damn phone and called the cops. You are guilty in this, too. You enabled an abuser.”

“What did you want me to do?” she cried. “Have you locked up? Is that what you wanted?”

“Yes,” he barked. “It’s what I deserved. You should have strung me up by my toenails. You should have kicked the shit out of me.” He shook his head, knowing in his heart that he wasn’t that type of man. “I didn’t do that to her. There must be some kind of mistake. I’m not your son.”

* * *

Somehow Lexy knew he would be here. Sure enough his car was parked in front. Not the old pickup he had been driving for ten years but the old black Mercedes he restored not long before he left. Her head told her to go check a bar, but her heart knew that this Ryan wasn’t a drinker. Either the blow to his head had changed his personality or the man she had pulled a knife on wasn’t her husband.

“Lexy.” Mary rushed out the front door, looking troubled. “He’s in the backyard,” she said softly. “He’s not the same. He’s not the boy I sent off to war.”

“I know.”

A few minutes later she spotted him sitting on the picnic table, his back to her, his eyes focused on the clear Texas sky. He turned, sensing her presence.

“Lex?”

He looked surprised to see her. He should have been surprised. She was surprised she came here. She was surprised that his tears affected her. She was surprised that he had any tears for her at all.

“What’s wrong, champ?” She came up to him and leaned against the picnic table. “You found out you weren’t husband of the year, so you go off pouting?”

“This is not funny, Lexy. You don’t get to make a joke about this.” He held out the pictures Mary had taken of her. She didn’t look. She didn’t need a reminder. She relived it every day.

“Don’t blame your mama,” she said softly. “She doesn’t know any better. She did what she thought was best.”

“She’s guilty of not protecting you and you know it.”

“I don’t think she knew how.”

“Bullshit!”

She saw a stubborn set to his face that she had never witnessed before.

“Ryan...”

“Don’t call me that. I don’t know who Ryan Beecher is but he’s not me. I didn’t do this to you. I couldn’t. You didn’t marry me and you know it.”

“Then who are you?” It was a question she had been trying to answer for days. “Why do you look just like my husband?”

He shook his head, at a loss. “I don’t know. I wished to God that I didn’t.” He turned his blue-gray eyes on her. “I wish you would have told me about how I treated you sooner.”

“Why?” She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“I would have known why you tense up every time I touch you. I would have known why you seem afraid.”

“Well, now you know,” she said simply.

“You should have left, Lexy. Why didn’t you leave him? You deserved better than that. You deserved more.”

“Ryan, you—”

“Not me.” He shook his head firmly. “He.” Ryan locked eyes with her. “I won’t hurt you and I won’t ever force you, but I will not stop wanting you. You should leave me tomorrow. I won’t stop you.”

“I can’t leave you,” she shocked herself by saying. This is what she always wanted. “Not now. You can’t even get around town by yourself.”

“I’ll learn. You have to go. I know I won’t hurt you, but you don’t know that. I’d rather be alone than have you live in fear of me.”

Her heart was beating faster than it ever had before. She was supposed to hate him but for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to.

“Who are you?” she whispered. “You look just like him. When I see you, I see him.”

“I don’t know who I am, but if you are going to stay then you need to separate who I am from who he was. You know I’m not him.” His voice broke and he looked up to the sky, trying to check his emotions.

She must be crazy. She believed him, not that he wasn’t her husband, but the fact that he truly didn’t think he was her husband. She had never seen him this affected by anything, not even his father’s passing. Maybe war did this to him, maybe an alcohol-free mind helped.

She found herself wiping away the tear that ran down his cheek. His pain made her uncomfortable.

“You have to believe me, Lex.”

“Hush, honey.” She couldn’t believe him. Not fully. She wouldn’t allow herself to trust him.

“I’m not him. This is not my life.”

She couldn’t say she knew what he was going through, but could image what it must feel like to wake up and find out you weren’t a good person. Her body rebelled once more as she wrapped her arms around him in some sick need to comfort him.

“I cannot forget. I cannot stop myself from flinching. I’m always going to wonder if you’re going to turn into a monster.”

“Then go.”

This is what she had been waiting for. She should run. She should pack all her suitcases and never look back, but something was preventing her from doing so.

He’s right. He’s not Ryan.

But that couldn’t be it. She had made a promise to herself. She would not run away. She would not be a coward. She would leave on her own terms with her head held high. She would show him how strong she had become. She would show him what turning the other cheek meant.

“I am going to leave, but now’s not the right time.”

He gently cupped her face in his hands, causing her to tense. His eyes flashed with something—sadness? anger?— she couldn’t tell. But she couldn’t help her reaction. Ryan had rarely touched her gently.

“I’m not going to stay away from you,” he warned, his eyes locked on hers. “You need to understand that. I want you, Alexa. If you stay I’m going to do everything in my power to keep you here.”

She blinked at him. Her brain was telling her to run, but her body was saying something far different.

You never felt this way about your husband.

“Ryan...”

“I’m going to kiss you.” He slid his hands down her back, pulling her closer.

Her heart lodged in her throat. “Please don’t.” She couldn’t bear his touch—she would lose her mind.

He raised his hands in surrender. “Then you kiss me. You control it. I’ll do what you want.”

She froze at his words.
Control?
That was the one thing she never had. She leaned toward him even though her brain was screeching at her to stop. She didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Grasping both of his hands she held them tightly with her own so he couldn’t touch her. So he couldn’t take it any further than she wanted. All she wanted was a kiss, which was madness.

You should be packing your bags.

She ignored the rational side of her brain, her lips brushing his. Too softly at first. She wasn’t used to kissing. She wasn’t sure how to do it properly and when she opened her eyes to look at him she found him staring with the most intense burning gaze she had ever seen.

“Try it again. Kiss me harder.” He shook his head. “Kiss me however you want.”

She tried again, her lips meeting his fully this time. But it was a dry kiss, the extreme heat that she was used to from him was missing. She pressed harder, liking the way his lips felt against hers but unable to gain the satisfaction that kept evading her.

She backed again a fraction of an inch and spoke into his mouth. “What am I doing wrong?”

“Nothing,” he breathed, sitting very still, never once attempting to touch her. “You’re innocent.”

“Tell me how to do it.”

“No. You’re in control. You need to do what feels good for you.”

She nodded, not fully understanding what he meant but she leaned forward and ran her tongue along the edge of his upper lip.

He groaned.

Ah, wetter. Softer. She swept her tongue along the seam of his mouth, ordering him to open it. He did, but he still didn’t kiss her back. She grew frustrated with his lack of attention and kissed him harder, deeper. Her tongue swept inside to taste the softness of his mouth.

She broke away, panting. Slightly aroused. Slightly confused.

“Tell me what you want from me, Lexy,” he whispered roughly. “Tell me what to do.”

“Kiss me back,” she ordered softly. She felt his cock twitch beneath their hands, which rested in his lap. She had an effect on him. Pride spurred her on. “Kiss me slowly. Use your tongue.”

He nodded but didn’t move, waiting for her to close the tiny gap between them. This time when she placed her lips upon his, he responded. Slow deep licks inside her mouth, nibbles to her lips. Kissing was like this? It was supposed to be wet and sloppy and alcohol-scented. But this was heavenly and yummy and caused her to want to crawl into his lap again and rub all the places that tingled against him.

He broke the kiss. She stared at him, bewildered for a moment.

“That’s enough for today. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

Run. Get away from him. He’s dangerous.

But she couldn’t listen to the thoughts in her head. Her body had awoken, and right now tomorrow was too far away.

Chapter Eleven

“L
exy, why don’t you get out of here?” Jemma Fisher, the librarian, said to her. “It’s quiet in here today and you worked so hard this morning we won’t have anything to do all week.”

“Oh, I couldn’t leave.” Lexy looked up from the stack of books she had been cataloging. “I missed so much work already and I’m scheduled for another two and a half hours.” She had been working so hard to keep her mind off the troubling turn her life had taken. Keeping busy helped push all that stuff away.

“You were taking care of your husband, not cruising around the world. You deserve a little time for yourself. It’s okay to do that sometimes. And if you are worried about us not paying you, don’t. You work harder than any other assistant I’ve ever had. I don’t know what I would do if you ever left.”

Jemma’s words hit Lexy square in the chest. Lexy had worked in the library since she was fifteen years old. First as a volunteer, then checking books in and out at the circulation desk. But now she did everything that Jemma did as the head librarian. They had worked together for twelve years and Jemma had no idea that Lexy was planning to leave town. Even though Jemma had seen her nearly every day she had no clue about the problems she had with Ryan. Lexy hid them too well. She had become a pro about lying to Jemma, and the world and herself. And she had been lucky, too. Jemma was away taking care of her ailing father when things between her and Ryan were at their worst, when he beat her so badly she couldn’t go to work for two weeks.

Jemma would have helped her,Lexy knew that, but she didn’t want Jemma to know that she had stayed with a man who had abused her for so long. She was ashamed of it, embarrassed by it. Jemma always had such faith in her. Lexy didn’t want her to know she had been so stupid.

Even now she was keeping a secret from the woman. Jemma had no clue that she had been searching for a way to leave Liberty. Most of the time Lexy ignored the little pull in her chest when she thought about leaving town. She had grown up here. Her best friend Di and her family were here. And Ryan’s mother, Mary, was the closest thing to family Lexy had.

This place was her hometown and it was as beautiful and quaint as a little town could get. Despite everything that happened to her here she couldn’t hate her town. She only hated her husband.

Or at least she used to. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Ryan now. Confused was the only emotion she could clearly define. He cried. She had never seen him do that before. He was gentle. That was something new for him, too. He was understanding and kind at times and he acted like he wanted her. And there was something about him, an attraction, that made her want to be near him. That’s why she kept her distance.

She had promised herself she wouldn’t kiss him again. She couldn’t even blame him for kissing her. He left the choice up to her. He gave her some of the control she had been missing her whole life and it confused the hell out of her. Plus, she had lied to him about Kyle. The guilt didn’t come the first time. She was so happy about being able to take Kyle’s care from him, but now she felt dishonest. Her weekly visit was going to take place tomorrow and she was going to have to lie to him again.

The old Ryan never asked how her day was or where she had spent it, but the new Ryan did. He asked her every day. He listened like he cared. When he came home from work he always wanted to talk to her.

Either he was the world’s best actor or something more than a memory lapse had happened to him. This change could only be spurred on by an act of God. If this had happened six years ago she would have been grateful for it. She used to pray that he would change, that he would be the husband she always wanted him to be. But now it was too late.

“I love my job here, Jemma,” Lexy said, looking at her boss. “And you, too. I never tell you that, but I do.”

“You’re a sweet girl, honey.” Jemma gave her a quick squeeze. “My dream for you is to go back to school and get a degree so you can take over my job here.”

“School,” she said as if she had never heard the word before. “You think I could handle that?”

“Of course. You used to make excellent grades in high school. All while holding down two jobs and taking care of your grandmother. You can do anything you put your mind to.”

“Oh...thank you.” College wasn’t something she had ever thought of. She had only wanted to be a good wife and mother. She never thought there was anything else for her. But those plans didn’t work out.

College? It was a dream she was going to put into her back pocket.

“Get out of here, Lexy. I know you are working that second job at night. Go home and relax before you have to leave again.”

“Thank you, Jemma. I’ll do that.”

But she didn’t go right home, instead she went to the supermarket to pick up some things for the house. She wouldn’t have time tomorrow. Kyle’s nursing home was an hour and a half away, and after she left him she would be going straight to her job at the Calloway. She had to dip into her savings to pay his bill for the month. Which meant she was going to have to work like a maniac until she made up for the loss. It was going to be a while, maybe six weeks, until she was comfortable enough to make her move. She was going to live closer to her little brother. She was going to see him more and not have to hide her visits from the world.

“Lex?”

She froze upon hearing her name. Ryan. She turned around to face him. He was wearing his old clothes, the jeans sagged around his hips, the button-down shirt he wore was made for a much bigger man, but he was still handsome—in a much different way than when she had been a girl. Her husband used to have a baby face. The weight loss must have done that to him, turned him all into hard lines and angles. There was something about him that pulled her closer to him.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re out of milk, bread and eggs. I thought I would pick some up. What are you doing here? I thought you were at work.”

“I was. Jemma let me go early.” She blinked at him. “You don’t go get the groceries. I didn’t think you knew where the store was.”

He grinned at her and took a tentative step closer. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

She nodded. Ever since he learned the kind of man he was before the marines, he had gone out of his way to respect her wishes. He only touched her with permission. And that wasn’t a lot because Lexy had done her best to avoid him. She always said yes when he asked and usually hated herself for it afterward.

He touched her cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “I’m smarter than I look,” he said softly. She shut her eyes while he stroked her cheek. “I hate that you look so damn tired.” He dropped his basket and wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her into his hard chest. “I should be the one working the second job.”

“No,” she said. Guilt pounded in her chest. “You are still healing. I don’t mind working,” she lied. She did mind working almost sixteen hours a day. But she had to do it so that she could get away from him.

Only right now, walking away wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought it would be.

“Will you at least let me take over some of the household stuff? I can pick up groceries. I can do the laundry. I can even scrub toilets.”

“Did you learn that in the marines?”

She wasn’t sure when it happened but she had her arms wrapped around him and her head on his chest. His words were erotic to her.
Pick up the groceries... Do the laundry.
They were words she never knew she needed to hear.

“I think I must have learned a lot in the marines.” He kissed her forehead. “You go home now and rest. I’ll get what we need.”

“Okay,” she said, but she didn’t move. In his arms, in that moment, she felt sleepy and warm and safe. She didn’t want to move.

“How do BLTs sound for dinner? I can fry bacon with the best of them.”

“Sounds nice.”

“You smell nice.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek and for some reason she turned her face up to him to give him more access. She didn’t want this. This closeness. This intimacy. But her body did and she couldn’t deny it that.

He sprinkled kisses all over her face. This was another first for her, for them. He didn’t treat her this kindly even when they first were dating. She felt butterflies in her stomach and warmth tingle between her legs. She wanted him to lay his big heavy body on top of hers and make her feel good all over.

“Ryan? Lexy?” Tom, one of Ryan’s best friends, approached them. “Well, ain’t this a sight to see. Since when do you kiss on your wife in public?”

Lexy pulled away from her husband. She had lost her mind again. She was leaving him. She should be breaking away not getting closer to him.

“Look at her,” Ryan said, his expression almost sad. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m going to go now,” she told him, barely able to meet his eyes. “I’ll see you at home.”

He nodded, and then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he grabbed her waist and set a quick kiss on her mouth. “Goodbye, Alexa.”

* * *

Only three men in his unit survived the rocket attack. And he was one of them. One man walked away with no physical injuries at all, and the other was still in the hospital, half his body covered in burns. Both of them were unreachable.

The military had given him a list of the men in his unit and their ranks, but not much more. No pictures. No addresses. It frustrated him to no end because he knew there had been a mistake, but when he tried to explain that to the military they treated him like a nut job.

He knew he wasn’t Ryan Beecher. All he needed was something to trigger his memory. All they sent him was Ryan’s personnel file. He studied the photo of the man that was supposed to be him. Ryan looked like him. Exactly like him. But he wasn’t him. He wasn’t a man who would hit his wife.

One of those men who died that day in the desert must have been him. The real him. His real family was off mourning someone who wasn’t dead. They would never know unless he solved this mystery. He studied the names on the list, read each one about a dozen times. None of them stood out, but each one of them had a specialty—a doctor, a mechanic, an engineer, a systems analyst. They were a special unit on their way to some destination when the attack came. The marines would not divulge anything else. It made him wonder what exactly happened that day.

It also frustrated him that, no matter how hard he searched his mind, he could make no connections.

It was blank.

Lexy was proving to be his only salvation. Maybe there was a reason he was dropped into Liberty, Texas. Maybe it was to make life better for her. To show her how a man was supposed to treat a woman. To set her up more comfortably. He couldn’t express the amount of shame he felt at seeing how they lived. She was wearing threadbare clothes, while he—her husband—was spending money they didn’t have on cars. Yes, he would find out who he was and return to his life, but before he did, he would fix things for Lexy, and in the process make her feel good.

He had no qualms about sleeping with another man’s wife. Ryan Beecher didn’t deserve Lexy. Besides he was probably dead anyway. For the time being Lexy was his wife and he was determined to treat her that way.

He sat at his desk in his new office. He confessed to his co-workers that he was no good at fixing cars so Pep, the ruddy-faced, white-haired owner of the shop, sent him to work in the office. The place was a mess, records were scattered all over, the books were a disaster. It was as if they only cared about the car side of the business. Ryan took it upon himself to check the books.

Pep’s shop, while successful, was bleeding money. Workers clocked in and never clocked out, a supplier was charging double for parts and Pep had gotten in the habit of loaning money to anyone with a sob story. In three days Ryan put an end to all of it and in the process saved Pep a lot of money.

Pep was so pleased, he made Ryan manager and bookkeeper for the shop and gave him a substantial increase in pay. Apparently Ryan had a head for numbers. He liked knowing that about himself.

“Hey, Mad Dog!”

He looked up to see Georgie, his supposed best friend, in the doorway, his shirt stretching over his large gut, the buttons ready to pop off. Georgie was Pep’s nephew and often visited Ryan at the shop.

“I heard you moved on up in the company.” He sat his girthy body in the chair across from Ryan’s desk. “I guess we should start calling you Big Dog instead of Mad Dog.”

Ryan attempted a smile but his face wasn’t up to it. He wanted to like Georgie but he found that every time he was near him he wanted to punch him in the face.

“We’re going to the Eagle’s Nest tonight. You wanna come? We’ll have a few beers, eat some ribs, talk about old memories.” He grinned. “Make some new ones.”

“No, thanks. I’m going home to see my wife. Plus, I quit drinking.”

“You quit drinking whiskey. Beer don’t count. Come on, Ryan. We ain’t seen you in over a year. Why can’t you come out with us? We want it to be like old times, before you joined up.”

Ryan didn’t want to go back to old times. Not that he thought he was the person this whole damn town thought he was, but on the off chance he was, he didn’t want to risk regression.

“Did you know I hit Lexy?”

Georgie frowned at him and scratched his head. “Well, yeah. You popped her real good once in front of me, but she’s got such a smart mouth I understood. Some women don’t know their place.”

Was everybody in this town an idiot?

His friends knew. His mother knew. The whole damn town probably knew and yet nobody lifted a finger to help her, nobody stood up for her, nobody was her champion. She never had a shot, did she? It was no wonder she didn’t leave the man who nearly beat her to death.

“There is never a reason to hit a woman. You should have kicked my ass when you saw that. My wife shouldn’t be afraid of me.”

“You don’t sound like the man I used to know,” Georgie said, shaking his head in disbelief. “It’s nobody’s business how you handle your wife.”

Was that a mantra in these parts? Or was it that nobody cared?

“Why aren’t you married, Georgie?”