The Chesapeake Diaries Series (183 page)

“You weren’t going to leave me in the middle of the night, were you?” He pushed the pillows up behind his head. “Don’t you know that when two people share what we shared, one doesn’t leave without a good-bye and a good reason?”

“I just … I thought …” She sounded confused.

“Come here, please,” he said softly. Something about her voice made him go cold inside.

She walked to the side of the bed and stood there. His hands drew her to him and she went without protest, but she felt stiff in his arms, not at all like the willing lover who’d shared the night with him. Whatever it was that was causing this … 
disconnect
in her, he was going to get to the bottom of it.

“LuLu, tell me what’s wrong. Is it something I did, or said? Did I hurt you somehow?” It occurred to him then that perhaps there was something else going on. “Lu, is there someone else, someone you’re involved with back in California? Is that what’s bothering you?”

She shook her head. “There’s no one else, Clay. I’m just not used to …” She struggled with her words. “I’m not used to staying.”

For a moment, he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly. “You mean, after …?”

She nodded. “I just always … I need to leave.”

“Stay this time.” He held her closely, certain he hadn’t gotten the whole answer, but not sure she was ready to tell him more.

She nodded again, and he pulled up the blanket to cover her. There were so many things he wanted to say, so much was in his heart, but she seemed so fragile suddenly that he feared she would bolt. She lay with her back against him for a long time, her breathing at first slightly ragged. She was so still that he thought she’d fallen asleep.

“Clay, remember when you asked me why I acted like I did back in high school?” The room was so quiet that her whisper filled it.

“I remember.”

“That summer … I was raped.” She swallowed so hard that he could hear it. “At the inn.”

His breath caught in his chest.

“He was there with his family. My parents were away, on that trip to Maine. My parents wanted all of us to be able to do all of the jobs at the inn. My job that summer was with housekeeping.” She paused briefly to swallow again but continued. “He came into his room when I was starting to change the bed linens. He started saying how he was so glad that I’d been waiting there for him and how he knew I’d been wearing those short shorts just for him and how he knew I’d been wanting him to notice and how he knew what I wanted from him. And then he pushed me down on the bed and started kissing me, and the next thing I knew, he was tearing at my clothes.”

She spoke in a near monotone, her emotions all beneath the surface. Clay held his breath. Had she really just said she’d been raped? How could something so terrible have happened to her, and he hadn’t known?

“I was so scared I could barely speak, and when I started to call for my brother, he put one hand over my mouth and just continued raping me as if I wasn’t trying to scream and kick him. When he was done, he told me not to tell anyone what happened because he’d deny it and no one would believe me. He said he’d kill my little brother. Then he went into the shower as if nothing had happened. I lay there for a long time, till I heard the shower turn off. Then I wrapped up the sheet and my clothes and ran back to my room.”

“No one saw you?”

She shook her head. “There were sailboat races
out on the Bay, and everyone was out on the lawn watching.”

“What happened next?”

“I went back to my room and I took a shower and tried to scrub him off me. He wore this aftershave and it seemed like the smell was in my skin and I couldn’t wash it away. It seemed like I smelled that for weeks.”

“But I mean, what happened when you told Dan? What happened when you called the police?” Clay knew that Hal Garrity was the chief of police back then. He would have skinned her assailant alive.

“I didn’t tell Danny. I told him I was sick and I stayed in my room until the weekend, when I figured he’d be gone,” she said. “I didn’t call the police.”

Clay sat up a little straighter but never let go of her. “You didn’t tell anyone?” he asked in disbelief.

She shook her head.

“But when your parents came back …”

She shook her head again. “I never told anyone. Not anyone. Just you. Now.”

It took him a moment to take it all in.

“You were raped when you were fourteen and you never told anyone?” Incredulous, he asked, “Why not?”

“Because I was afraid no one would believe me, like he said, and I was afraid he really would hurt Ford. And, Clay, I was very, very scared that Danny would have killed the guy and then my parents would have had to come back from their vacation early and—”

“Lu, this guy
raped
you. He hurt you and forced you to do something you didn’t want to do. Do you
really think your parents would have cared about their vacation?”

“Everyone had made such a big thing about it. They’d never taken a vacation, Clay. They’d spent every summer here at the inn working their tails off. They finally got the chance to get away. They trusted Danny and me and Ford to take care of things.” She sat up and turned around, her hands covering her face. “Do you have any idea how guilty my mother would have felt that she’d left us?”

“It isn’t as if she’d left you guys unsupervised. There were adults at the inn with you, weren’t there? I seem to recall that there was a manager here who looked after you kids a lot.”

“Mrs. Englewood.”

“You couldn’t have told her?”

“I couldn’t tell anyone.” She wiped the tears from her face with the sheet. “I never wanted anyone to know.”

“You haven’t talked to any of your girlfriends—”

“I don’t really have any girlfriends,” she told him.

“How ’bout the guys you’ve dated …?”

She shook her head. “I never felt like I could share that.”

“That’s why you don’t feel comfortable staying over?”

She nodded.

“LuLu, have you thought about talking to someone professionally about this?”

“I’ve thought about that. I thought it might help me to deal with … relationships better. I know I’m always so guarded. But then, there was never anyone I
cared so much about that I thought it was worth going through the pain of talking about it.”

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better. I’m glad I told you. I’ve wanted to forever. Even back then, I wanted to, but I went through this stage where I didn’t want anyone close to me, didn’t want to have to talk.”

“So you pushed everyone away.” He was starting to understand.

“It was easier than talking about it. It was always on my mind, and I was always afraid it would slip out.” Her voice softened even more. “Even you. I knew what you would have done if I’d told you.”

“Damn straight.” Anger, then rage, began to replace the shock he’d initially felt listening to her recounting of the attack. Now it was all he could do to keep his hands from forming into fists, and for those fists to keep from punching something—like the nearest wall—but he figured physical violence was not the best way to comfort and reassure her that she was safe with him. “But you can still press charges. It’s damn near impossible to hide these days, you can find anyone on the Internet. You were a minor, and I doubt there’s a statute of limitations on assaults on minors. Besides, rape is a felony—no statute there. You could—”

“I don’t even know who he was. I didn’t even know his name.”

“But you could have found out. You had the room number and you could have checked—”

“Don’t you understand? I didn’t want to know. I wanted to pretend it hadn’t even happened. Since then, I have second-guessed myself a thousand times.
I keep thinking, what if he did this to other girls back then? What if he’s still doing it? If I’d called the police when it happened, would it have saved someone else? But even if I knew who he was and wanted to press charges now, how could I prove it? How do I prove that it was rape and not consensual? What evidence do I have that it even happened?” She shook her head. “I kept quiet and he got away with it, and there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“I wish I’d known, LuLu. He wouldn’t have gotten away with it if I’d known.”

“I know.” She reached up and touched his face. “And I’m so sorry that you thought somehow it was you. I never thought you’d think it had something to do with you. It was all about me back then. I should have thought about the way other people were feeling.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. You were victimized. You suffered a trauma. But you should have talked to someone, LuLu.”

“In retrospect, I wish I had.”

“That’s why you don’t like to come home so much.” The obvious finally occurred to him. “Why you put so much distance between yourself and St. Dennis.”

“I have the worst nightmares when I stay at the inn. Though I have to admit, this time around, it hasn’t been too bad.”

“Maybe now that it’s out in the open … well, not exactly in the open, but at least you’ve talked about it … maybe now coming back won’t seem so terrible.”

“I hate feeling that way about my home. I hate that feeling of panic when I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder if he’s come back, if he’s in the building. I hate what he did to me and I hate what it
did to my life and my relationship with my family. I know it hurt my mother that I spent part of my time here in December sleeping at Steffie’s. I told my mother Stef needed help making her wedding favors.”

“Hey, you can always stay here.”

“Thanks. You’re a sport.” Her smile was faint, but still, it was the start of a smile.

“I
am
a sport.” He gathered her to him and rested her head against his chest. “No more slipping out in the middle of the night, okay? You need to stay with me.” Clay paused, then rephrased his statement. “I need you to stay with me. I’ve waited a long time for you.”

They sat in silence for a moment, Clay gently stroking her arm. Finally, he said, “I was in a serious relationship with a girl for three years when I was in college. We got engaged, and we almost got married.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Because I realized that the biggest part of the attraction was that she reminded me of you. She was about your size and she had kind of reddish hair, like yours, but she wasn’t you, and I couldn’t go through with it.” He brushed her hair back from her face. “You’re my girl, LuLu. I think I’ve always known it.”

“Clay, I’m not staying. My home and my life are back in L.A. You need to remember that.” Lucy sat up. “It’s just for the summer …”

“I understand.” He did. He tried not to think about it, but he did understand. “I’ll take whatever I can have of you. ‘Just for the summer’ is better than never.”

Still, he knew that he wanted more, wouldn’t be satisfied with less than all of her. How he’d make that happen, he didn’t know. The only thing Clay knew for sure at that moment was that he wanted
always
.

Chapter 19

When Lucy awoke to the sound of water running somewhere in the distance, her first thought was that rain was beating against the windows at the inn. She opened her eyes, and looked around, and remembered.

“Not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered.

She looked over her shoulder and found the other side of the bed empty, and figured the sound she heard was the shower. She tossed off the blanket she’d been wrapped in and sat on the edge of the bed.

It had been one hell of a night.

Had she really poured out the whole story to Clay?

She was pretty sure she had.

He’d been visibly upset by what she told him, but thankfully, there’d been no sign of the judgment she’d feared, no indication that he blamed her for what had happened. Her rapist had told her repeatedly that she was to blame for what happened, that she’d been blatantly “asking for it.” Lucy knew that hadn’t been true, and Clay seemed to know it, too. He never once questioned her or doubted her recounting of the event. On the contrary, he’d been angry that she’d
never reported the assault, that her rapist had never been made to face the consequences for what he’d done to her, though she was pretty sure he understood why it had taken her so long to talk about it.

In retrospect, maybe she could have—should have—handled things differently, but the child she’d been had lacked the wisdom and the foresight of the woman she’d become. And truthfully, while the memory had hindered her from forming close relationships in the past, it hadn’t stopped her from forming one with Clay now, or from becoming a strong and independent woman who had been taking care of herself for years, and doing a damn fine job of it.

“You’re my girl,” Clay had said the night before. “Just for the summer is better than never …”

She wished she’d been able to offer him something more than “I’m not staying.”

“Hey, she rises.” Clay walked back into the room, dressed in only a pair of jeans, drying his hair with a towel.

He walked to the bed and kissed her on the mouth. “How ’bout breakfast?”

“As much as I’d rather stay, I think I should be getting back to the inn. My mom—Danny—everyone’s going to think I’ve been kidnapped.”

“They knew you were coming here, right?”

“I told Mom.”

“Then they know where you are.” He grinned. “And your mom is probably not too distressed about it.”

“You’re probably right. She’s always reminding me what a wonderful young man you are.”

“Of course you don’t argue with her.”

“Certainly not.” Still dressed from having gotten up to leave in the middle of the night before Clay stopped her, Lucy began to look for her shoes. “Of course, if I marched into the inn wearing the same clothes I had on when I left, I imagine tongues would wag.”

“This is St. Dennis. It’s part of the culture. Some people actually believe that tongue wagging will be the next big Olympic sport. They train for it from birth.”

She found her shoes and sat back on the bed while she slipped into them, and thought for a moment. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye just yet.

“How about we have breakfast at the inn?” she suggested.

Clay raised one eyebrow. “That will give the tongues plenty to wag about.”