Loving Lydia (Atlantic Divide) (18 page)

“Hey, cowboy, why don’t you take me home to bed?”

Chapter 11

Excitement and nerves jangled together as Lydia dressed, ready to go out with Sam. Her mother was downstairs watching television with Rosie and Aaron. The children were delighted to have their grandmother’s full attention.

Tonight it would be just the two of them as Sam had asked her on a dinner date in some uptown restaurant.

She knew he would propose again. She also knew it was time to be honest and tell him the truth before he proposed so that she was free to accept.

She stared at herself in the mirror. Her deep, green eyes gazed back. Resolute and determined. Sick with worry. She needed to tell him everything, no matter how painful, no matter what she believed his reaction would be. He needed to know. It was only fair to tell Sam before he committed any further to her.

Lydia closed her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them again, the same look was there. This was it. She blew out a breath and turned away from the mirror.

Her mother was preoccupied with the children, but still managed to give her a knowing look and an encouraging smile as Lydia kissed her children goodnight.

“Sam’s in the kitchen. He’s already said goodnight to the children. Go on, have a good time.”

He’d told her he had chosen a restaurant out of town so that there would be less people there, otherwise they would probably never get their meal in peace. He was too well-known in the area, both as a singer and rancher, so the chances were they would meet someone they knew. It was a fair distance from the ranch, just on the edge of the County line, but it was going to be worth it.

Her heart had given a thrilled leap when he’d said he wanted her to himself, just for a short while.

They barely spoke on the journey. She tried to stop herself from biting the skin on the side of her thumb as she knew it was a giveaway that her nerves were getting the better of her. Knew that he would see and read her so well.

He turned on some music, wound down his window, and laid a relaxed arm on the window frame of the car. He soothed her with his beautiful low voice as he crooned to a country song. It made her think of the first day she had met him. She’d fallen asleep to the sound of his mellow voice then. She had no desire to fall asleep now.

Her eyes scanned the classy restaurant as Sam reversed the car into the parking lot, and she wondered how often he had ever come to a place like this. It confirmed her suspicions that this was going to be an important night. A quiver of trepidation ran through her as he opened the passenger door and gave her his hand. As she stepped out, he leaned in close and pressed a gentle kiss on her lips before looking deep into her black-lashed, green eyes. She knew he had to see the nerves jangling there. She was positive she could see some reflected in his own eyes. To stop the shake of her hands, she tucked one into the crook of his arm as he led her into the restaurant.

The dim, hushed atmosphere, golden candlelight, all leant itself to the most romantic assignation she had ever known.

“One moment please, I’ll check that we have your table ready.” The waitress disappeared, and Sam pulled Lydia into his side, kissed the end of her nose. Powerless to stop herself, she touched her lips to his and felt the ripple of excitement tingle through her veins. In an attempt to distract them both from their mounting desire, she leaned back to peep over her shoulder and around the edge of the seating area.

“Lydia? Oh my God, Lydia, is that you?”

With dawning horror, Lydia felt the blood drain from her face. Numb, she extracted herself from Sam, turned her back on him so she could watch the familiar woman dressed in a voluminous black dress and black leggings stride toward them out of the dim light of the restaurant.

The enormous woman’s voice boomed across the room as she turned to her companion. Her thin, dyed-black hair flipped across her face and lay straggled over her lip and nose piercings. Her deep purple lipstick made her teeth look as though they were glowing in the dark as she descended upon them with all the enthusiasm of a long-lost friend.

“It’s Lydia Marsden, can you believe it?” Her greasy hair flipped back again as she pinned Lydia in the sights of eyes lined with thick, black kohl. “Lydia, you remember me, don’t you? What a small world it is.”

Lydia took a step back into Sam, who stood solid behind her. She remained silent as the woman approached and continued at the top of her voice. Of course she remembered her.

“Frank, you remember Lydia, don’t you? She was married to Greg, the lead singer of Euston Way. She murdered him…” She looked around to see how much attention she had attracted and then whipped back to face Lydia. “…not that I blame you, Lydia, after you caught him with those two women. No one blames you after the hell he put you through.” She nudged her companion and glanced around once again. “We’re just glad to see you’re out of prison so soon, aren’t we, Frank? Jealousy is a strong motive, and he’d messed you around for long enough.”

Swathes of gray washed in front of Lydia’s vision accompanied by a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach as she turned and stared at the horrified face of the maître d' and beyond him to the open-mouthed stares of restaurant customers. She couldn’t bear to look at Sam. It would be more than horror she saw in his eyes.

“Excuse me.” Her voice was weak even to her own ears. “Could you please show me to the powder room?” At the look of puzzlement. “The ladies room, please, the toilet. Excuse me.” She stumbled forward, and the maître d' stepped back away from her, his eyes flickering between her and the woman in black.

“Hey you, you stuck up bitch, don’t you ignore me. You think you’re better than me? You think you can just walk away when I’m talking to you…”

Sam stepped forward. Lydia stared at him for a moment. His face was set, eyes cold and hard, his jaw clenched.

“Ma’am, I suggest you quiet down.” The maître d' put his hand on the woman’s arm. She slapped it off, her lips drew back from her teeth, and she snarled at the little man.

“Fuck off! Don’t touch me, you jumped up little shit.”

She poked him hard in the chest. He staggered back a step, and his hand came up to cover his injury. Her feral eyes pinned him to the spot as she puffed her enormous chest out and raised herself to her full height.

As Sam stepped forward to intervene, Lydia took several steps back and quietly slipped down the hall into the ladies toilet.

Her hands shook as she raised them to her burning cheeks. She sat on the toilet seat, the stall door locked, and all she could hear was her own breathing, loud and erratic.

She tried to slow it down. Her hands shook so hard. She linked them together, closed her eyes, leaned back, and tried to concentrate on regulating her breathing.

She’d just left Sam out there in the restaurant to deal with everything. She was a coward, she told herself, but her shaking hands and her erratic breathing weren’t going to convince her to be brave yet.

She hated that she felt this way, but the sight of that woman brought the past flooding back in an evil rush.

Her name was Michelle. She’d been one of the band’s groupies, keen on cocaine, and by the look of her collapsed nose and bloodshot eyes, was still using. She’d greeted Lydia like a long-lost friend, but Lydia knew better.

The woman had been the bane of her life, a gossip monger. She was almost ten years older than Lydia, and she had honed her vicious tongue to perfection. More than once Greg had come home with some awful accusation, which had invariably been stirred to life by that woman.

Strange though it seemed that Michelle was here in America, she followed up-and-coming bands around the world, though goodness only knew where she got the money to do it. Lydia had barely noticed Michelle’s companion, but there had been a vague recollection of him being some kind of record company executive.

Lydia’s breathing started to level out, and she lifted herself off the toilet seat and unlocked the door. She peeped around to make sure that no one was there and then slipped out to wash her hands.

The deep row of mirrors threw her reflection back at her. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot, her mouth trembled. She leaned closer across the bank of sinks and thought that all the effort she had gone to tonight to make herself look good had been destroyed in one foul swoop. Stress had taken its toll. What was Sam going to think about all of this?

She felt her stomach muscles cramp as soon as she thought of Sam. She’d never seen him look so cold and furious. Did he believe Michelle? Whether he did or not, her own reaction had been a dead giveaway. He would have questions that she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to answer right now. She’d not been brave enough to stay and confront Michelle; she’d just slipped away, leaving Sam to deal with it. What a coward. She wanted to go home and see her sister, check that her babies were okay.

Lydia had no idea how much time had passed, but she thought she had probably stayed way too long.

As she opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway, she heard the quiet murmur of customers in the restaurant. The maître d' had obviously dealt with Michelle and her companion, and there was an air of normality.

Her knees felt weak as her eyes searched for Sam. The time of reckoning was here.

The maître d' spotted her and rushed toward her.

“Madam, the man you arrived with has left with those dreadful people, and I would suggest that you do the same. We really are not that kind of establishment, you know, and I must insist that you leave immediately. I have called the sheriff.”

Lydia was slow to react. Her eyes met the maître d’s, but her brain took a moment to catch up as he ushered her toward the door.

She assumed Sam would wait in the car for her, but as she scanned back and forth, she realized that Sam had taken her sister’s car and gone, and she was alone in the dark, empty parking lot.

Hysteria bubbled in her chest as her dulled mind tried to find a solution. She needed a taxi, but that meant going back inside the restaurant to ask for the use of their phone. She really didn’t think the maître d’ would allow that. He probably wouldn’t allow her to put a foot through the door again.

She couldn’t phone her sister or parents because they would just panic, and as it had taken her and Sam over an hour to drive there, it was going to be one hell of a long walk to get back. If she started out now in the heels that she wore, it may take her until a week on Sunday to get home.

Not that it was her home, she thought as she lowered herself onto the curbside. Not that she felt she had a home of her own anymore. She’d just fooled herself into thinking she could play “happy families”.

She chewed the skin at the side of her thumb nail and glanced up as a young couple arrived at the restaurant, happy as they flirted together.

She thought she’d had it all. A little tweak and she could have had it all. And it came down to the fact that she hadn’t trusted Sam. He was right. If she had told him, he would have reacted differently tonight. She would not have been scared to face him. Scared. What an understatement. She was terrified.

She tucked her hair behind her ear and watched as a police car slowly rolled into the parking lot. Its blue lights flashed, almost like lightning. And then she remembered that night.

After Greg had raped her the first time, she had managed to get a restraining order on him. Not easy to accomplish when you were married to the lead singer of a famous band. Not easy to keep things out of the newspapers, but she had, and her life had settled down into a routine of writing songs as she waited for her babies to be born.

She’d moved into an apartment with Kate and lived a quiet life, giving birth to the twins with so few problems three weeks before her due date. Her life had been turned around by her pregnancy. She’d grown up overnight, taken her responsibilities as an adult seriously, seen the world through different eyes, and her rebellious nature had calmed.

Three weeks after the twins were born, Kate had been at work and Lydia had been alone in the apartment. She’d bathed the babies and put them down to sleep.

Head tucked into her knees, Lydia relived the moment when she turned from the cot to find Greg in the doorway, his eyes red-rimmed, his skin gray and clammy.

She could still feel the blood run cold through her veins, and her skin hurt as she remembered how he had brutalized her. He raped her three weeks after she had given birth and almost killed her. As he’d left her for dead, he had turned on her babies as they squalled with fright. His voice had raged far above the sounds of their distress, and he had reached into the cot to wrench one of them out as he screamed obscenities at her, threatening to kill her baby.

Lydia had no idea that she had picked up the scissors she had used earlier to open the packaging around the new twin baby rocker, but she still remembered the moment she plunged them deep into Greg’s chest. She still remembered the feel as she thrust with one fluid movement, the resistance as they entered his flesh, the wet sound they made as they pierced his body and found their target. She still remembered the thick, oozing blood that covered her hands and sprayed across her clothes, her arms, and her face.

He’d had a look of puzzlement on his drug-ravaged face as he dropped to his knees in front of her, as though he couldn’t believe that she was capable of such an act. Then he slowly keeled over on to his side, thick blood gushed from his mouth, and his blank eyes stared into hers.

She would never forget the smell, rich and metallic. She’d slid down the wall, leaving a smear of bright red blood as her strength sapped from her. She had waited for death to claim her as her babies screamed and blue lights lit up the room.

“Lydia?”

She raised her head slowly and gazed blindly into concerned, dark brown eyes.

“Lydia, are you okay?” The American twang brought her back to the present as she realized that Bill leaned over her, one hand gently resting on her shoulder.

“Ummm … I. Sam left me. Could you give me a lift back to Kate’s?”