Until Today (6 page)

“Come on, Kitty Kat. You've kept me waiting. Didn't I tell you the other day that it's not over between us?”

I hate it when he calls me Kitty Kat. He has made me into his pet – one that obeys his every command before being rewarded with love and affection. My cheeks burn and I begin to feel flushed. Sweat gathers on my forehead.

Greg lets go of my shirt. I move to step away from him but he wraps his arm around my waist, his fingers circling around my stomach, pulling me a little farther from the porch light to the edge of the patio. His grip is like an iron bar, imprisoning me. Tears of anger and frustration gather in my eyes, as the knot inside my stomach tightens.

I try to push his hand away from my stomach, barely recognizing my own voice pleading with him to stop.

“Why not, Kat? After everything I've done for you, why not?” Greg murmurs in my ear and brushes his fingers across my skin. “I've handled your dad and told him I'd talk to you. He's with Sarah, where he really wants to be. He doesn't love you as much as her, but I'll always be here for you, Kat.”

The feel of his breath as he whispers in my ear sends chills down my spine. My stomach starts to heave and I'm dizzy and nauseated.
Please let it be over quickly.

The porch light blurs as the familiar floating sensation takes over. My gaze remains fixed on the corner of the house as my mind begins to black out. The surrounding sights and sounds fade as reality slides away from the private place I create for myself, where Greg does not exist. A piece of me goes to this private place every time Greg touches me. My private place is without dreams, people, thoughts, or worries – only darkness exists there.

“Greg, I've been looking all over for you. Are you ready?”

I jump at the sound of Amy's voice, returning from my black place with a jolt. She appears around the corner of the house and stops, staring at me and Greg.

I'm still in front of Greg, my back to him. Amy would be able to see Greg's arm wrapped around me. In the darkness can she see his hand under my shirt with my hand on top of his?

The trees stop rustling in the breeze, the crickets stop chirping, and the moon looks down on us, as if waiting for the drama to unfold. Amy must be able to hear my pounding heart over the sudden hush of the evening. Her eyes dart back and forth between Greg and me.

Greg squeezes me, as if giving me a friendly hug. “I was just trying to calm Kat down. She's upset about earlier.”

His squeeze tightens, conveying a silent warning for me to play along.

“Is that so?” Amy looks directly at me.

“Yeah,” I whisper. Tears of mortification pool in my eyes, and I look away from Amy.

“Let's get going.” Greg steps out from behind me. The back of my shirt falls, covering my back.

Greg puts his hand on my arm in a fatherly gesture. “Like I said, Kat, don't worry. Sarah is safe and sound, and your dad has calmed down. Everything's fine.”

Nodding, I watch him walk away, then glance at Amy. She's still staring at me, as if she can read my mind and heart.

Without another word, Amy turns and follows her husband, leaving me to drown in guilt and shame.

Chapter Ten

Breakfast the next morning is silent. Mom had to leave early and Sarah gives me an obvious cold shoulder. Dad and I glare across the table every once in awhile, but refuse to say anything after our argument last night. I still smart from being told once again how selfish and ungrateful I have been.

My whole family is crazy. Nothing makes sense anymore.

Sarah can do no wrong in Dad's eyes, yet all she seems to want to do is sit in front of the television and disappear into some fantasy land. Jared, the champion in my Dad's eyes, is following in good old David Thompson's footsteps – lining the walls with trophies and attending university to become a lawyer and join the law firm.

Mom is there whenever Dad needs something, otherwise
he doesn't really say a whole lot to her – at least not when I'm around. He's too wrapped up in the sports section of the newspaper, or hanging out with Princess Sarah. When he's not home, he's wining and dining some new client.

Where do I fit in?
I ask myself this question as I leave the house to walk to the hospital. It's not the first time I've wondered.

A horn beeps behind me. I wave at Scott while he signals to pull over beside the curb.

“Hey, everybody settled after last night?” Scott asks through the open window.

“I guess so. Sarah's sucking up the extra attention like a sponge.” I roll my eyes.

Scott chuckles. “Yeah, she's always been good at that.”

“No kidding.” I look away for a moment, trying to contain my annoyance with Sarah. “Thanks for your help last night. I guess I kind of panicked.”

“No problem. What are friends for?”

I turn and stare at Scott, noticing him in a different way. He has a beautiful smile, with small dimples that curl up with the corners of his mouth. When we were younger, he was embarrassed about his dimples. I had forgotten about them until now. I guess it's like a work of art. If you stare at it every day, you stop noticing the small details and eventually forget to appreciate the beauty behind it.

Raising my eyes from his dimples, I know what I'll see; brown eyes, alive and dancing with light. He's the only guy
I've ever met who could not only smile with his lips, but with his eyes as well.

Scott's cell phone rings and breaks the spell. I shake my head, trying to focus my thoughts again. Scott watches me with a strange look.

He picks up his phone. “Hello?” He holds his finger up, motioning for me to wait. “Okay, Steph. I'll be there in five minutes.” Scott hits the “End” button and throws the phone on the passenger seat beside him, still not looking away from me.

“I have to pick up Steph. She feels bad she wasn't around last night.”

“Yeah, right,” I say under my breath. I didn't mean to say that out loud.

Scott's eyebrows lift. “Hey, don't worry about it,” he says. “It's between you two. Keep me out of it! You guys will work it out – you always do.”

“Sure,” I say. We always worked it out when it was just me in the picture. Now Steph has somebody else to occupy her time. She doesn't need me anymore.

“I have to go. Steph's waiting, and she'll shoot me if I'm late.”

“Okay, thanks again for last night. See you.”

Scott pulls away and disappears around the next corner. He really does seem different lately. He's been blowing hot and cold. Sometimes he seems to be avoiding me, but other times he is the Scott he used to be, only more intense. Sighing, I enter the hospital and walk up to the pediatric ward.

“Kat, you're here! Thanks for coming in.” Aunt Sheila grabs my arm and directs me to an empty room.“I need to talk to you.”

She closes the door behind us. This is serious if she needs privacy to talk to me about my duties for a shift. I sit on the edge of the hospital bed, running my hand over the white sheet. Aunt Sheila paces in front of me.

“There are some terrible people in this world, Kat. As a doctor, I've seen some dreadful things done to children, but sometimes it's too close to home.”

Sheila looks away, staring out the window. What could have happened? I've never seen her so agitated. Her gaze swings back to me.

“Why do you kids think we can't see what's happening in front of our noses? I spoke with your mom, Kat. I know what's going on, and I can't be wrong.”

I freeze.
How could she know? How could she possibly know what Greg has done to me?
I feel faint, thinking about Sheila speaking to my mother about Greg. Why wouldn't Mom stay to talk to me this morning? Why didn't she hug me and tell me that it's okay because she still loves me? Why didn't she promise she would side with me over him any day?

An image of Greg's hands touching me last night flashes through my head. I worked so hard this morning to block that out and not think about it. The embarrassment of Amy finding Greg with his hands on my skin makes me feel like I'm going to throw up. Anybody seeing that would have a hard time
believing that I didn't want him touching me. Nobody would take my side. Would they?

“Sheila, I need to explain—”

“She's here,” Sheila interrupts me. I'm confused about who Sheila is talking about.

I sit straight on the bed again and look at Sheila. “Amy's here?” Amy is the only person I can think about who would confront me with what happened.

Aunt Sheila looks at me. “Amy? Why would Amy be here? Does she know Taylor?”

“Taylor? She's back?” My heart pounds, as I wait for her answer.

Sheila nods and starts pacing again. “She looks awful. He really did a number on her this time, and they can't explain this one with a fall.”

Relief floods through me. She didn't speak to my mom about Greg.
She doesn't know what's happening.

Sheila stops pacing again. “I had to talk to your mom, Kat. Of course, I can't tell her what has happened, but I had to find out what she thinks of the man. Am I way off base this time? I figured that people would have to see what he's really like. Your mom works with him every day. She sees him interact with kids at the school, yet she didn't have one bad thing to say about him. Worst of all, she says the kids love him and he loves them. How could such a brute put on a front like that?”

You have no idea, Aunt Sheila, how big a front some people can put on.
I remain silent, stunned at the anger my usually laid-back Aunt is displaying. I'm shocked that Mom could be so blind. She would never believe me if I told her about Greg.

“We need to get Taylor to talk, Kat. It's the only way we can help her. I've had the family investigated once, but Taylor wouldn't talk and her injuries seemed to match their story. I'll do it again because I'm sure I'm right about this one. I don't think anything will happen unless she talks.”

“How bad is she?”

“She's pretty black and blue. She has a concussion and two broken ribs. No child is klutzy enough to fall down the steps twice in such a short period of time. Her arm isn't even healed yet, for Pete's sake.”

Aunt Sheila continues, “Nobody deserves that. Every child is beautiful and special and deserves love and protection. It disgusts me that people can get away with something so terrible.”

For the first time since I can remember, a sensation of warmth wraps my heart, hugging me and helping me feel safe.

“Do you really believe that, Aunt Sheila?” My voice cracks with the hope I'm trying to control.

“Of course, I do. Children are a gift, and it's our job to teach them, love them, and nurture them.”

Aunt Sheila would believe me, no matter what. Her words prove it.

“Aunt Sheila, I need to tell you—” I'm interrupted by the buzz of the paging intercom.

“Dr. Williams, please report to room two twenty-three. Dr. Williams,” a voice commands.

Sighing, Aunt Sheila rubs her hand over her face. Is her hand shaking? She looks so pale. The bags under her eyes are
larger than usual. She looks ten years older than the last time I saw her.

“I'm sorry, Kat, but we'll have to talk about this later. I don't usually lose it like this but this case gets to me. So many people have children exposed to this monster at the school. Could you work with Taylor today and see if she'll tell you anything? She really missed you after you left the first time. You two obviously connected.”

I nod. “Sure, I'll do what I can.”

I sit on the bed for a few minutes, trying to digest everything that has happened in the last few minutes, before going to Taylor's room. I feel like I've jumped on an emotional roller coaster. Going from the fear that Sheila knew about Greg to actually wanting to tell her about him was confusing and frightening. This secret that I have guarded for so many years is becoming a heavy burden. Do I have the right to unload it on Aunt Sheila, who is suffering enough with Taylor and all the other kids who depend on her care?

Aunt Sheila is worried that Mr. Bradford is around other kids all the time. What if my own silence means that Greg has hurt other kids? I've been worried about Sarah, but never thought of others I haven't been able to protect.

A light knock sounds on the door and Wanda peeks in. “Hi, Kat. Your Aunt asked me to let you know what room Taylor's in.”

I follow Wanda down the hall. It's a quiet day on the ward, with only the sound of the occasional television coming from
one or two of the rooms. Usually you can hear a child or baby crying, but not today.

Wanda stops in front of the last door.

“Taylor's alone right now. Her mother hasn't been here watching over her little lamb this time. Nobody has been up to see the poor kid since she was admitted last night. It's weird after the last time. Her mother wouldn't leave her side then.”

“Thanks, Wanda.” I open the door to peek inside. Wanda's footsteps fade down the hall while I stand there staring at the still shape on the bed.

The bed is slightly inclined. Taylor's head is turned away from me, toward the window. Maybe she's sleeping. Her hair is spread across the pillow in a tangled mess.

“Taylor, it's Kat. Are you awake?” I walk around the bed so I can see her face. Tears are sliding down her cheeks.

I squat down in front of the bed, wiping her tears away with my finger.

“Hi, Taylor. I'm going to sit with you, and you can just cry as hard as you want, if it makes you feel better.”

“I can't cry. It hurts,” Taylor whispers.

“Okay.” I run my hand over her hair, flinching at the knots and tangles. Nobody has looked after her in days.

“How about I brush your hair and we can tell stories? I missed telling stories to you.”

“I didn't want the nurses to touch me. They hurt me when they move me around. I don't want to talk to them.”

“I know, but they're just trying to help you.”

Taylor looks into my eyes. “Will you brush my hair, Kat? You're nice. You won't hurt me. You can tell me a story. I liked pretending you were my sister.”

I close my eyes, my hand resting on the top of Taylor's head. “You're right, Taylor. I won't hurt you. Nobody will hurt you anymore,” I promise.