Breathe Her In Page 6

  “Okay,” he concedes. “Come on, I think we need to get you home. Same time, same place, tomorrow?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it,” I tell him, placing a soft, sweet kiss on his lips.

  The next day at school, a beautiful drawing of our clearing falls out of my locker and lands at my feet. I smile as soon as I get the paper unfolded, bringing my fingers to my lips, where I can still feel the pressure from Rafe’s kisses. I don’t know how he managed to get this in here… he’s not with Claire right now. I read his messy writing in the corner of the picture, next to a cluster of wildflowers, and my smile grows bigger.

  This is my favorite place in the whole world.

  When we can’t be there you can carry it with you.

  I love you… it’s that simple.

  RMM

  7. Rafe

  Commotion from the living room wakes me up a few hours before my alarm is set to go off. I throw on some sweatpants and head in there to check on Dell, even though I know exactly what she’ll be doing.

  “Couldn’t sleep?” I ask, eyeing the canvas she’s working on. This girl never ceases to amaze me.

  She turns around when she hears my voice, the deep circles under her eyes concerning me. “How long have you been at this?”

  Della holds up three fingers. Jesus, she’s been up all night.

  “Bad dreams?”

  She nods.

  “You’re gonna have a rough day at school, Dells. Can we go back to bed? I’ll read to you. You need to get some sleep.”

  Turning back to her canvas, she ignores my suggestion and continues working on her painting. I don’t want to leave her alone, so I decide to join her. Our living room is a make shift art studio. While most people have a few couches and a television, we have easels, canvases, oil paints, drop cloths, and brushes. We both need art in our lives to keep the demons at bay.

  I put the finishing touches on my new piece. Landon Finch, the director of the art gallery next to Ink Addiction, has taken an interest in my work. He came into the shop one day to take Finn’s wife, Maggie, to lunch, looked at my work displayed around the lobby, and flipped out. I have a few pieces commissioned in the gallery, and he’s asking for more. As far-fetched as it would be, if I could sell some more of my work through his gallery, it could be an out for me. I could be that much closer to getting away from Ford. Della’s custody would be the last piece of the puzzle that I would need to lock into place. The money I could put away would be legitimate, and I could hire a lawyer to help me get her back if Ford were to take her from me.

  When Ford would take her from me, I correct myself. That cocksucker would rip her out of my life in a second if I stopped doing his grunt work. He’s made that perfectly clear. I can only hope that the state would put her with Claire temporarily while I got my shit sorted, not some foster home.

  Della’s hand tugging on mine pulls me from my thoughts of a future that seems impossible. She points to her finished piece and smiles. I rub the top of her head and lead her back to bed. Her sleep is restless, but the screams never come.

  ___

  “You’re almost done, Rafe. Keep clean, stay out of trouble, and we won’t be having these meetings anymore,” Doug Freeman, my parole officer, tells me from across his desk. It’s littered with stacks of paperwork, but void of anything personal. He doesn’t display pictures of his family, due to all the murderers, drug dealers, rapists, and child molesters that come through his office on a daily basis.

  I give him a nod.

  “How’s Della?” he asks. He always asks.

  “Great.”

  He sighs, rubbing his hand up and down his five o’clock shadow, a sure fire sign that we’re about to talk about something uncomfortable. “I’ve been hearing some stuff on the street, Rafe. Stuff I don’t like. Stuff I don’t think is true, because I know you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that little girl.”

  My spine gets straighter. I’ve been waiting for this conversation to happen. Doug’s a cool guy, so I’m not worried about it. Plus, he can’t prove anything. I never have anything in the house that violates my parole, my drug tests are negative, and word of mouth doesn’t mean shit.

  “What exactly have you been hearing?”

  “That you’re the person to see if you need to score. You can get just about anything.”

  I don’t say a word to refute it.

  “Aren’t you gonna deny it?”

  We stare at each other for a few seconds.

  “Damnit, Rafe. What’s going on? I know you’re working. I talk to Finn and you pay your fees. Why would you jeopardize what you have going for you if you have less than six months of probation?”

  “Things aren’t so simple.”

  “You need to give me more than that.”

  “I don’t think I can. But, you won’t find anything on me. I’m staying clean.”

  He taps his pen against my file, staying silent, wheels turning. This is what he does… he won’t stop until he gets some answers. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Come on, man. You know I can’t touch you without hard evidence. I’ve got nothing. This is just us having a conversation.”

  He’s right. I know the conditions of my parole like the back of my hand. I can’t give him everything, but I’ll give him enough to get off my back.

  “I’m not doing this for me. There are others in your line of work that need people like me in their pocket.”

  He knows with that one statement that I’m informing. There’s no need for me to elaborate or give any details. He also knows it’s illegal. “They can’t do that. You’re a convicted felon.”

  I laugh. He should know better. Not everyone is a stand-up guy like Doug. “Those mother fuckers don’t care.”

  He taps his pen against my file for a few more seconds and lets out a weary puff of air. “Is this something I need to look into? I could put an end to it with one phone call.”

  “No,” I tell him, the single word coming out harsher than I intended. He drops his pen and clasps his hands between his outstretched legs. “This is a complicated, fucked up situation that I can’t get out of.” I give him the real reason I’m stuck in this situation that I don’t see an end to. “It has to do with Della’s custody.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah. So please just leave it alone. Bad shit can happen if you start digging.”

  “I’ll leave it alone as long as you don’t screw up the terms of your probation. You do know this means I’m headed to your house to search it. I can’t ignore everything you just told me.”

  “Come on,” I tell him. He won’t find anything there. I’m not an idiot.

  We leave his office and he follows me back to my house. I call Finn, explain to him that I’ll be a few minutes late. When I pull off the interstate, Eleanor’s number on my screen causes me to smile so big it makes my face hurt.

  “Miss me already? I just saw you this morning.”

  “It’s Hadley.” I can hear Della in the background, screaming, and Eleanor’s voice trying to calm her. “We need you at school. Della’s upset and we can’t get her to calm down.”

  “What happened?” I ask, knowing that it could be just about anything.

  “I, um, I don’t know. We were in the hallway and she just collapsed, starting rocking back and forth, pulling her hair, and screaming. Eleanor told me to call you. We didn’t know what else to do.”

  “No, you did the right thing. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Tell her I’m coming.”

  I pull over on the shoulder and Doug’s right behind me. I get out of my car and jog over to his.

  “I gotta go. Della’s teacher just called- she’s having one of her episodes. You can go check the house. The back door’s unlocked.”

  He starts to talk, but I don’t stay to listen. My only thought is to get to Della and assure her that everything is alright. Tell her that she’s safe and that I won’t let anyth
ing bad happen to her.

  I pull back onto the interstate and Doug speeds in front of me, his dash siren lit up, leading the way to Della’s school. We haul ass down the freeway, and I get there in record time, thanks to my police escort.

  Doug heads to the office and I tear down the hallway. I’m assuming he’s handling the check-in. I don’t have time for bullshit like visitor’s passes when my sister needs me.

  Her sobs can be heard as I round the corner. The door almost comes off the hinges when I rip it open. The classroom is empty, except for Eleanor and Della. Eleanor is in the corner, arms wrapped around my sister, both of them with red eyes and damp faces. Eleanor is shushing her, whispering words of comfort against her temple. I reach them in a few long strides, sink down on the floor, and get Della settled into my arms, mouthing a thank you to Eleanor. She goes to stand up, but my hand shoots out, holding her in place. I want Dells to know that she can trust Eleanor to help her through these episodes, too. Hell, I just want her close to me right now.

  I need her close to me right now.

  Della’s deep sobs turn to muffled whimpers as I rub her back and arms, and they eventually die down when she passes out from exhaustion.

  “I heard her speak,” Eleanor whispers. “I got to hear her voice.”

  “What did she say?” I ask, but I already know. It’s always the same… the same two revolting words.

  Eleanor wipes a few stray tears from her beautiful face. Her fingers are shaking so bad I’m tempted to wipe them away for her, but I keep my hands on Della. “First it was ‘no’, then it changed to ‘stop’. It was like she was in a trance, replaying whatever terrible thing happened to her. Rafe, I can’t even,” she starts, but she can’t speak through the tears clogging her throat.

  “I know.” I can’t sometimes, either. It’s too much. “I’m sorry,” I continue, upset that she had to witness it, hear it.

  She turns her dark eyes to me, surprised at my apology. “No, Rafe, I should be the one apologizing to you. I tried. I wanted to help her, but I couldn’t,” she tells me, the quivering in her bottom lip almost too much for me to handle.

  I pull her close to me, welcoming her into the fold. If I wasn’t so drained, I would laugh at the absurdity of it all… sitting on the floor of a classroom, Della on my lap, my arm around Eleanor, my PO in the office talking with the secretary.

  “You did what you could. You told Hadley to call me, which was perfect. Eventually, it won’t even come to that. She’ll learn that you’re safe, and that you care about her. You’ll be able to soothe her. She’s already starting to trust you. The fact that she let you touch her is huge.”

  “I want her to trust me. I love her, Rafe. She’s an amazing child. I’m lucky to be her teacher,” she says, gazing down at Dells with a look in her eyes that would knock me on my ass if I wasn’t already on the floor. Her eyes start to shine again with more tears. “That’s not how I wanted to hear her speak for the first time. I hate that she has to go through this. No one should have to go through that.”

  Hadley pokes her head through the door. “Everything good?”

  “Yeah, she’s sleeping now,” I answer. Eleanor untangles herself from my grasp. “She’ll be passed out for the rest of the day. I’m gonna bring her home.”

  “Okay. Let me get some stuff together for her. I’m sure she’ll want to finish her writing if she wakes up.”

  “I’ll carry her bag for you,” Eleanor adds. “She never ate, so she’ll wake up hungry. We didn’t make it to lunch.”

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  She smiles at me. It’s the first one I’ve seen since I got here. It’s a sad one, but I’ll take it. “I know. You’re a good man, Rafe.”

  I’m not. There’s not much about me that’s good. But I take her words in and let them flow through me. It’s been so long since I’ve heard Eleanor’s praise. It soothes me in ways that nothing else can. Coming from her, I might actually let myself believe it.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, my voice low and tight.

  8. Eleanor

  “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were avoiding me,” he says, and I roll my eyes. It’s a good thing we’re on the phone. He would never approve of such juvenile gestures.

  “Tristan, it’s just not a good time.”

  “It’s never a good time lately. I hardly see you anymore.”

  “The beginning of the school year is hard. I’m practically drowning in paperwork over here. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable leaving Gigi alone all weekend to go away with you.” I don’t want to go away with you all weekend. What makes him think I have any inkling to do that?

  “Your grandmother is never alone, Ella. She employs round the clock staff, not to mention the home health nurses that come by twice a day to check on her.”

  “That’s not the same. The whole reason I moved back from Texas was to help her. If I’m out of town with you, then I’m not spending time with her. The weekends are the only time I have to do that.”

  The sigh he lets out should make me feel guilty, but it doesn’t. I think my time with Tristan is coming to an end. Our ‘relationship’ isn’t worth the headache.

  Tristan isn’t Rafe, my conscience adds.

  “Can we go to dinner?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts. “I actually have a few hours free.”

  I don’t want to go to dinner with Tristan. All I can think about is Della. She’s consumed my thoughts since Rafe carried her out my classroom earlier today.

  “I promised Gigi I’d eat with her,” I lie. His office phone rings, and I’m thrilled to hear the interruption.

  “There’s my phone, I have to go. I’ll call you later.” He hangs up before I can say anything else.

  Talking about Gigi reminds me that I haven’t checked on her today, so I put on my shoes and walk over to the main house. When I moved back from Texas, Gigi demanded that I came to stay with her. It’s not like she doesn’t have the room. She lives in a palatial estate by the university, and I’m tucked away in the guest quarters. I’m close enough to her in case she needs me, but I still have my own space.

  Walking through the gardens, my chest tightens at the sight of the flowers I insisted on planting when I moved here… the same mix of haphazard of flowers that grow in a little slice of perfection in the woods… the flowers that match the cluster of flowers Rafe brought me. The ones he picked for me meant more to me than the decadent bouquet Tristan sent for our ‘anniversary’. Or, that his secretary probably sent, if I’m being honest. Tristan doesn’t have time to do trivial things like send flowers for anniversaries.

  I walk through the doors of the main house and my mood lifts at the sight of Gigi. She may be wheelchair bound since suffering her stroke, but that doesn’t stop her from being impeccably dressed, always polished off with her trademark strand of pearls.

  “Ah, my darling Eleanor,” she beams, wheeling herself toward the door, “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Never, Gigi. How are you feeling?”

  “Fabulous. Let’s go to the sitting room. I want to hear all about your day.”

  My face falls with her comment. I can still hear Della’s pleads and sobs echoing through my mind. Those sounds aren’t easy to push away. Wiping at a stray tear, I sit on my favorite chaise lounge and feel Gigi’s soft hand at my face.

  “Tell me about it. Why are you crying, my sweet girl?”

  There are so many reasons, but I go with the easiest answer. “He’s back,” I whisper, my eyes connecting with hers. If it was anyone else, I’d have to explain those two simple words and the ramifications behind them, but not her. When Rafe left and things went horribly wrong, she was there, supporting me through the aftermath, both physically and emotionally. My father had basically disowned me, and my mother was in denial. The only person I had left was Gigi. Sweet, caring, understanding, loving Gigi.

  Her weathered hand drops from my face and squeezes my shoulder, then works i
ts way down my arm so she can hold my hand.

  “He’s back,” I continue, “and I teach his sister, Della. She has some severe issues because of emotional trauma. Rafe has sole custody of her. And he’s made it clear that he wants me back.” My voice seems to be stuck in a perpetual whisper.

  “Did he tell you why he left?”

  I shake my head.

  “Did you tell him what happened when he left?” Her voice wavers. The months after he disappeared were just as hard for her as they were for me.

  “I’m scared, Gigi. He’ll never forgive me. I watch him with Della and it knocks the wind out of me. I can’t tell him what happened. He’ll be devastated when he learns what I did.”

  Gigi’s face goes from sympathetic to stern in a flash. “You listen to me, Eleanor Louise Benson. None of that was your fault. Do you think those men would have been put away if it was your fault? They did that to you, they are to blame. You have to stop blaming yourself. The guilt will gnaw at you and slowly consume you. I won’t stand for it. Talking to that boy about what happened may be exactly what you need.”

  Easing my hand from her grip, I wipe under my eyes. “I shouldn’t have gone looking for him. I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I did it anyway. Claire said he was gone. Why didn’t I listen?” I sob, the wounds still fresh after all this time.

  Gigi pulls me into her chest and lets me get it out. I cry through the pain, the guilt, the sense of loss, everything. When my cries grow weaker, I sit up and help straighten her shirt; her left hand isn’t very strong.

  “What are you going to do?”

  It doesn’t take me long to answer. I know what I want to do- what I need to do. “I’m going to go see him.”

  “Now?”

  “Not about that. Della had a really bad day at school. I want to go check on them. Maybe bring them some dinner.”

  Her crinkled eyes move slowly up and down my body, taking in my attire. “Well then I suggest you put on a more appealing outfit.”

  “Of course, Gigi. Do you need anything before I go?”