Steel Me Away (13 page)

J.

The rains came alongside the setting of the sun and J. was riding straight into them.  Summer thunder rolled across the sky, louder than the rumble of his engines.  If he had any sense, he would turn back and hunker down.  Find a bridge and wait the storm out.

There was no time for sense.

Emmy's brother had given him the address; it was all he had to go on.  He was already pulling on his leathers when Wayne the Storm Rider came limping up to him.  His sallow, sneering face was puffed and swollen looking from his beating, but there was something in his eyes that made J. pause and not reflexively punch him out.  It was something nearing respect.

"Take a breath and figure out where you're going first," Wayne grunted, handing him a GPS unit. "Won't do your pretty little lady no good if you can't find her.". 

J. yanked it from his hands with a nod and a lump in his throat.  Unable to say anything more, he peeled out of the garage as Case screamed something.  He didn't wait to hear what it was.

He hadn't wanted to accept what was clearly a peace offering.  But now that he had it, J. looked down at it gratefully.  Wiping the raindrops from its waterproof casing, he slipped it back into his pocket.  Not far now. 

At the last minute he had grabbed the helmet.  If he was going to be taking Emmy with him, he wanted her to be safe as she rode.  But without anywhere to put it, he had to shove it on his own head.  It squeezed his ears uncomfortably and made him feel like he couldn't get a full breath.  His rapid, panicky heartbeat sent his blood thumping deafeningly through his ears.

This was taking too long.  He cranked his speed higher, heedlessly riding the yellow line to dart between two SUVs riding abreast.  The blare of the horn disappeared rapidly behind him as he hurtled into the Lehigh Tunnel and a momentary respite from the driving rain.  He used these precious moments to inch his speed even higher as the roar of his engines echoed off the tiled walls of the tunnel.

It was the visit he had to make that had held him up.  Screeching to a halt in front of the rowhome, he had pounded the screen door so hard it almost came off its hinges.  He started bellowing for Randall before his sister could even finish unlatching the three deadbolts.

"You say you'll do anything to make it up to me?"

Randall had looked at his wild expression.  J.'s shoulders were hunched around his ears, his breath shallow and ragged.  He could see that it took all of Randall's bravery to look him in the eye and say, "Yes."

"Keep her safe."

He hoped it was enough.  It wasn't the best plan; fuck it was hardly a plan at all.  If he had had more time to think, maybe he could have come up with something more for Emmy.  Something more deserving of her.  Something that really demonstrated how much he really did love her.

But he didn't have time.  Her brother had said Robert was there, right now.  She wouldn't be safe until he could get to her.  Beyond that, he had no hopes.  He wondered if she would even come with him.  But he couldn't let himself think of that now.

The rain was coming hard and fast, lashing at the windscreen of the stupid helmet.  He yanked it off and was instantly pelted in the face with the driving rain that blew sideways.  It was worse than being blind. 

Slow down,
cried the voice in his brain, but his thumping heart wouldn't let him. He jammed the helmet back onto his head.  The exit was ahead of him; he just had to keep the bike upright until then.

Once he was off the Turnpike and onto the back roads, the rain fell gentler, dissipated by the trees that overhung the slippery road.  The country up here was mountainous, and the road curved widely around a squat hill.  Up ahead, a single yellow streetlamp lit the turn that the GPS indicated.  He was almost there.  Two more minutes.

He gripped the handlebars tighter.  His anxiety was enough that he could probably leap from the bike and run faster.

He skidded slightly around the turn.  Controlling the bike took his attention off the road for just a moment.  Just long enough for the black car to come shooting out at him from where it lay in wait.

In the last instant he saw the face at the wheel.  It didn't make sense.  What was the racist lobby guard doing up here in the woods, behind the wheel of a luxury car?  He must be hallucinating.  Or dreaming.  The same way that he was dreaming about flying weightless through the air.

Then his body slammed into the asphalt and all went black.

Emmy

"No."

I had lost track of how many times I had said that word in the past hour.  I had said it so many times it had begun to lose all meaning. 
No I won't go back with you.  No I will not marry you.  No you cannot force me back into your life.

No, Mom, No, Dad.  No, Robert.  No no no no no.

My mother poured iced tea into sweating tumblers.  As if he was an honored guest.  I was somewhere outside of myself, watching from on high as Robert dimpled his way into my mother's affections.  I saw the same political pressing of the flesh, the glad-handing schmoozer who sailed through Philadelphia society like a prince on his Grand Tour.  He was pulling out all of the stops, but he was
n’
t aware of the flaw in his plan.  I could see right through him.

As I watched him flashing his brilliant teeth, I saw a stranger, and I wondered how I could have ever loved him.  The reptilian gleam of his calculating eyes should have been my first hint of the evil that lurked underneath.  But the brilliance of the blue was what blinded us.  Even my father seemed to sit up straighter.  He offered Robert a drink from his treasured rum bottle. 

"I loved Emilia from the moment I saw her," Robert was explaining to my beaming mother.  Her eyes were bright as she listened raptly.  "And no one knows better than we do that sometimes she makes rash decisions.  You know what I mean, right Mrs. Hawthorne?"

"Oh she can be so flighty, it's true," my mother trilled.

"No," I repeated softly.  But only Andy heard me.  He was hovering near the doorway, stalking back and forth like he wanted to leap into the center of the room.  I shot him a desperate look. 

"Emilia, where are your manners?"  My mother smacked me in the thigh.  I was squished next to her on the new, pinstriped couch, my thighs smooshed between hers and my father's.  Robert had asked me a question from his perch on high in the easy chair.  He regarded us as a king receiving his subjects.

"It's alright Mrs. Hawthorne.  I know she's upset.  Emilia," he bent forward, placing his elbows casually on his knees.  Only I could see the fury shaking in his hands.  "Emilia, my sweet girl.  We need each other.  You know how I get when you're not there for me."

My stomach gave a sour lurch.  "Yes Robert.  I know how you get."  There was still a faint pain, deep in my center, to remind me.  "You get violent."

He sat back and for one minute his eyes showed the truth of what he was.  He struggled to master himself, as I wondered why no one else could see what I saw.  The silence stretched out long and interminable and I knew he was trying to break me. His nostrils flaring with the slow, sharp intake of his breath.

No backing down, Emilia.
  My hands fluttered uselessly before I got them back under control.  I ached to fill the silence.  Andy's footfall sounded heavily in the hallway and then the front door slammed.  I squirmed to move, but my parents hemmed me in.  The beginnings of claustrophobia started clawing at my throat.

"Let's not exaggerate, Emilia," Robert finally said.  His voice was cold and flat and slightly singsong.  "We both have tempers."

"No."

"You share some of the blame for what happened."  Prodding at me like a parent prompting a naughty child.

"What happened?" My mother rose to the bait.

"No." I said it again, but knew there was no stopping him.

"Well, Mrs. Hawthorne," he dragged the words out like he was speaking them reluctantly.  He cast his eyes down to the brown carpet as if the weight of what he was going to reveal was too much for him.  "I guess she hadn't told you of her infidelity?"

My mother gasped.  My father made a deep threatening noise.  The claustrophobia closed around my throat and I started to panic.

"It isn't infidelity if I broke up with you, Robert," I shouted wildly.  "I left you.   Let me go!" I couldn't keep the begging note out of my voice.

But he wasn't paying attention to me anymore.  Like obedient children, we all looked where he was looking.  "Excuse me please," he said airily and strode over to where Officer Wilkens was standing.  I saw the guard mime a phone call and point outside, but couldn't make sense of what he was indicating.  "Just take care of it," I heard Robert mutter tightly.  Officer Wilkens nodded and headed back out the front door.  I heard a car start and wondered what errand Robert had sent him on.  I dully wondered how much he was paying him.

"Did you need anything?" My mother simpered as Robert stood in the hallway, chewing thoughtfully on his cheek. 

The sound of his reply was drowned out in the storm of indignation that raged in my head.  My newfound fighting spirit clashed with my eagerness to please and I disappeared inside myself to fight the battle in my head. The passing of time lost its meaning.  I diminished until I was nothing more than a pinpoint. There was a patch of light on the carpet and I stared at it fixedly while my inner war raged.

Just say what he wants to hear! Just be good and do what they want!  It doesn't matter anymore. You've lost.  You shouldn't have been fighting to begin with.

Shut up
! I screamed inwardly.  The patch of light moved across the floor, narrowing and narrowing until there was nothing left and darkness fell.  I felt like I had been on this couch my entire life.  For as much attention as everyone paid me, I may as well have just been a ghost.

When the patch of light was gone, it felt as if my hope was too. 
It's over.  Give in.  Fighting is too hard.  It's easier this way.

Emmy

I was exhausted, but Robert was indefatigable. "You made a mistake and I forgave you, Emilia. It was very difficult, but I was willing to let it go in the face of the future I want with you.  Think of our future."

It was a tactic I knew was one of his favorites.  Drown everything out in a torrent of words.  

"You're too good to her, really."  My mother poked me in the arm.  "Emilia, how could you?  I raised you better than to be a cheater."

I closed my eyes and tried to find her.  The fighter I was.  The fighter I could be. "Stop, Mom."  I shook my head. "Please just stop, you don't know what you're talking about."  I pressed my fingers to my temples and exhaled, trying to fight the weight pressing down on my shoulders.

"I think I do, young lady.  I've been married to your father for twenty-four years and never once has it occurred to me to step out on my vows."

"I'm not married."

"Engaged."

"It's not the same thing.  And I broke it off."

"Not the first time," Robert shook his head sadly. 

"The
first
time?"  my mother squawked.  "You mean you did this more than once?"

"I'm afraid so, Mrs. Hawthorne.  It's killing me to say this."  The gleam in his eye said otherwise.

"So you're a cheap slut now," she sat back heavily in the couch.

"Mom...."

Heavy footfall sounded on the porch.  I heard the squeak of the door hinge.  Andy came thundering around from the garage, but the sight of Officer Wilkens brought him up short.  He looked surprised, like he had expected someone else.

Officer Wilkens cleared his throat.  "Excuse me everyone.  I just wanted to let Mr. Whiteside know that everything is taken care of."  He nodded subserviently and left to go resume standing in the rain.

Andy gave a derisive snort. "Rich prick," he muttered, loud enough for us to hear.

"Andrew!"  My mother sounded mortified.  "What the hell are you up to, running around the house like this?  Come in here and say hello to your brother-in-law."

My brother.  My wonderful, scrappy, mouthy little brother just looked stone-faced at Robert's diplomatic grin.  "No fucking way, asshole," he snarled.  And he whirled up the staircase in yet another thunder of footsteps.

Shifting and shimmying, I slid from the couch and freed myself.  "I'm done here," I announced and turned to leave. 

I would call Sammie.  Right now.  It was only three hours to here from her parents' place.  I could hole myself up in my room until she got here. 

But instead I thought of J.  My wistful memory of waking up in his arms slowed my exit, giving Robert exactly the opening he needed.

"Mr. and Mrs. Hawthorne, will you please excuse us for a moment?  I need to talk to my future wife privately."

They sprang obediently to their feet, completely under his spell.  "Emilia..." my mother shook her head.  "I can't believe you.  I'm so disappointed."  Her martyred expression weighed me down even further.  I lifted my hand to clutch her, but it weighed a thousand pounds.  She slipped away before I could make her understand.

"Thank you," Robert stepped in to the space between us.  The minute his back was to them, his expression changed.  Those cold eyes gleamed at me, the deep dark brows knitted together. 

My old fear remembered what was going to happen to me now.  I threw up my hands and braced for the blow.  Instead he knocked them to the side and crashed his lips into mine.  I squirmed and tried to pull away, but his grip on my arms was iron.  He dug his fingers painfully into my skin.  I twisted away, pressing my lips tightly together.  I knew he would love it if I cried out in pain. 

He forced my lips open with a slimy stab of his tongue, pushing the sour taste of him into my throat.  Snaking a hand under my T-shirt, he backed us both up until I fell onto the couch, his heavy weight crushing the breath from my body. 

"Went too easy on you last time," he breathed in my ear.  I could hear my parents' voices in the kitchen.  I inhaled to scream for them, and his hand closed around my throat, choking the words from my lips.  I could only cough as he squeezed tighter.  "Think you can hit me, you fat slut?  Think you can lay a hand on me?"  I heard the jingling of his belt and tried to scream again, but it only ended in a choked gasp.  He slammed my head into the couch.  "Even if you do scream, you think they're gonna care?  Your parents see you for what you are.  They know you're just a fat whore and can't wait to be rid of you."  With his hand still around my throat, he unzipped my jeans. "Get you back under me where you belong."

I bucked and thrashed with the last vestiges of breath in my lungs.  My wild flailing connected solidly against his ribs and for a moment I could breathe.  He swore as I gasped to scream and lunged for me, closing his fists tighter around my throat.  I felt his hard organ attempting to invade me and twisted myself away.

"Fucking bitch," he snarled and squeezed tighter.  I knew then that he meant to kill me.  Right there in the living room of the house I grew up in, only feet away from my parents.  They had no idea that their only daughter was dying on the new sofa on the other side of the wall.

I made a strangled, whispering noise, yanking at his hands, but every exertion robbed me of precious oxygen.  I could see stars, the edges of my sight dimmed.   Blackness crowded in to claim me.