Unbelievable (35 page)

“I can’t. I have to get these ideas down.” A chill wrapped around me and crawled up my spine. Ever since I’d seen Birdie, a feeling of impending doom had taken hold of me and I couldn’t shake it. I hadn’t heard from Daddy again, but he
preoccupied my thoughts.

“Lilah, I think it’s okay to give it a rest for one night.” He kissed the top of my head as I continued my frantic sketching.

“You don’t know my father, Cole. He’s a genius.”

Cole pulled me away from the table and over to my uncomfortable couch. We sat down and he wrapped his arm around me. I leaned my head on his shoulder and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“Too bad I can’t find my Shakespeare book or I’d read something to you,” he offered. I loved when he read to me. Whenever he came to a romantic verse, he’d insert my name.

Shakespeare! I jumped up. “Wait here. I have a surprise for you.”

I ran into my bedroom and grabbed the book I’d had rebound for him and went back out, tucking it behind my back.

“Remember us talking about having your Shakespeare book rebound instead of replaced because it holds special memories of your grandfather?” He nodded. “I had it done for you.” I brought the book around and handed it to him.

“I think they did a really nice job.” He lovingly caressed the cover. As he scanned the pages, I sat next to him. “Lilah, I can’t thank you enough. This means so much to me.” He smiled ear to ear. A look of pure love filled his eyes as he examined some of the pages. “My grandfather’s notes are intact also.”

“I pointed them out to the man at the bookstore, and he promised to be very careful.” I grabbed a pillow from the couch and dropped it into his lap. Smiling, he turned to Romeo and Juliet’s love story and began, pausing occasionally to read a note his grandfather had made in the margins.

I focused on the dulcet tones of his voice as they washed over me, pushing out all thoughts of my father. At least I thought I did.

“Stop it, Alan, or I’m telling dad.” I grabbed what remained of my dress and held it against me. ‘
You’re dreaming,’ I yelled to myself. ‘Wake up.’ I didn’t. The sick, twisted nightmare continued.
Alan ripping my dress off, me throwing up everywhere, the pleas to stop touching me, hurting me. Every horrible moment, relived in my dreams again.

Suddenly, Cole was there.
Lilah, sweetheart, you’re safe
. I turned to the voice, but only saw the bedroom door.

Lilah, open your eyes. Wake up.
His warm hand touched my hair, my cheek
.

“Lilah,” he called again as I pulled myself from the nightmare. I promptly sat up.

“Are you okay? You were having a nightmare, at least I hope it was only a nightmare.” He wiped the dampness from my cheeks as I shook my head.

“Not a dream. Reliving a nightmare,” I said, sinking back in his arms. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that if Alan were still alive, I’d kill him.” His body tightened around me.

“I know this will sound horrible, but when the news of Alan’s death reached us, I wasn’t the least bit sad,” I confessed softly.

Cole rubbed my back. “You know I’m a very patient man, but violence against a child, especially the sexual violation of a child, is the one thing I cannot, I
will not
tolerate. Like I said, it’s a good thing he’s dead.”

“My mother was wonderful. She—”

“Lilah, you don’t have to tell me about this if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind. I’m in a good place with it now. When my father isn’t pressuring me to do something I don’t want to do, I never have the nightmares. I think because Alan and my dad are alike in so many ways, his demands trigger the dreams. They both called me princess, though with
Daddy it meant a term of endearment. They are both unscrupulous when it comes to business, and neither will back down in a fight. It’s their way or their way. Brute force: my dad’s weapon of choice.”

“In the end it cost Alan his life,” Cole said. “I hope your father’s wiser.”

Daddy wasn’t. He wouldn’t be backing down from this fight, of that I was sure.

“What were you saying about your mother?” Cole said, rubbing his hand along my arm.

“After Alan hurt me, she held me in her lap and rocked me. She stroked my hair, told me I was a brave little girl, and how I made her proud for fighting back.”

“She sounds like a wonderful woman.”

I nodded. “She filled the bathtub with a mountain of bubbles. I laid there forever it seemed. Eventually my hands turned all prune-like. She gave me a washcloth lathered in sweet smelling soap and told me to wash away Alan’s bad touch. I remember scrubbing my skin until it was pink. When I got out, my mom wrapped me up in a soft white towel, and I dressed while she scoured the tub down with bleach, ‘
to
wash away Alan’s ugly touch forever
,’ she said.” I smiled at the memory of my sweet mother’s voice as she helped me to deal with the trauma. “In the end I felt lucky. It could’ve been so much worse if my parents hadn’t shown up when they did.

“My mom died a couple years later, but lucky for me I had Birdie. When I turned sixteen, she sat me down under the guise of teaching me how to knit, but it was more than that. She talked to me about good touch and evil touch, explaining that what a husband and wife shared was good
touch, or
love’s touch
as she called it. And what Alan did had nothing to do with love.” I guided my hand into Cole’s and brought it to my lips.

“Love’s touch,” he said gently.

“Love’s touch,” I agreed, pressing his hand to my cheek.

“Did your father have Alan arrested?”

“No. The next day, he sent Alan to work at a meat slaughtering plant in Kansas, insisting that all Alan needed was good old fashioned hard work to burn off his overactive hormones. He said there was nothing wrong with him.” It still angered me that my father didn’t do more.

“You’re kidding me,” Cole said incredulously.

“Nope, but Alan was never allowed back in the house. My mom insisted that Daddy hire Birdie as a live-in nanny also. She moved in immediately.

“She was my biggest ally after my mom died. Even if Daddy would’ve allowed Alan in the house, she wouldn’t have. She never liked him, or my father, really. Birdie was the most loving, non-violent woman I’ve ever known. She wouldn’t even allow me to kill flies. I had to capture them and set them free,
if
ever they dared to enter a Dreser home,” I said laughing. “I miss her. Hopefully after all this is over, she’ll come back into my life.”

“I can’t wait to meet her. She sounds like an amazing woman,” Cole said. I nodded and snuggled in closer to him, sad he’d never get
the chance.

Chapter
29

Even spending the evening with Cole did little to stop my nightmares. Despite my exhaustion, I woke early and went for a run, alone. Sort of. The blue sedan stayed close even though I did my best to lose it, mostly in hopes of frustrating Booker. After a cool shower, I headed over to the hardware store to meet up with Maggie.

“Any color you want?” Maggie said, her mouth hung open in surprise.

“Yes. Can you believe it?” I selected several different color samples from the paint display and laid them out on the counter in front of her. She scanned them before turning to me and saying, “They’re all shades of beige. Cole hands you carte blanche with color and you’re going to select one of these?” She pointed to the samples.

“Here’s the deal. Cole’s going to have to live in the house, my guess is for a very long time since we both know he does nothing quickly. If I were to paint it the color schemes I wanted, he’d be sick of it in a few years and start sleeping back at the hospital.” I put two colors back. They were a little too bland, if that’s possible. “What I plan on doing,” I continued, “is use color in my accents.”

“Like pillows, rugs, maybe even lamps,” Maggie said with a look of recognition. She understood exactly what I meant. She would make a great business partner. Too bad I’d be leaving town soon.

“Those are easy and relatively cheap to change out, and the beige is neutral enough it will go with most color schemes.” I separated three chips out and pointed to each.

“I like the taupe one,” she said, picking up the one I’d been leaning toward. “And the bedroom in the darker, except for the closet. It should be in the lighter shade. What do you think?”

“Hadn’t thought of that. Good idea. What about the dining room?” I shifted through the samples again. “Wait. How about this one for below the chair rail?” I pointed to a dark beige I’d not considered before. “And we can accent above with a lighter color.”

“Perfect,” she agreed.

I added some glaze to the list, hoping to give the living room a Tuscan feel. Well, as Tuscan as you could get
using beiges. We got the supplies and went directly to Cole’s, setting the correct paint cans in each room so not to mixed them up.

We taped off every room before we started painting, like we did with her trailer, so we’d only have a paint mess for a couple days. We started painting the next morning.
Maggie’s phone rang as we laid out the brushes. I went into the kitchen to rinse out some rags as she answered it. No sooner had I turned on the water when she came running into the kitchen.

“That was Booker,” she said, her face drained of all color. “Cole slipped and fell in the ER, hitting his head on the floor. It knocked him unconscious. They’re taking him in for a CAT scan.”

My knees gave out and I grabbed onto the sink to keep from hitting the floor. Maggie rushed to my side.

“You okay?” She slipped her arm around my waist.

“No.” She held me up, guiding me to her car.

“Are
you
okay?” I managed to get out, laying my head on the headrest.

“Yes,” she answered weakly.

“How does Booker know? Why would the hospital call him?” I asked, cranking up the A/C in hopes of clearing my head.

“He brought in a suspect who’d been injured during an arrest. The guy tried to escape, knocking Cole to the ground as he did. Booker sounded distraught. I’ve never heard him like that before.” She turned left at the corner, going much too fast and had to swerve to avoid running off the road.

“Slow down. You’re not going to help anyone if you’re dead,” she muttered to herself.

Getting to the hospital took forever. We hit every light red. If I’d been driving, I wouldn’t have stopped. We parked the car and ran to the ER. When Seth saw us, we all went downstairs to the x-ray department.

“All I know is that he woke before they wheeled him in for the CAT scan. He tried getting up, but tipped over on the bed. The head of ER showed up and insisted Cole have the scan. I don’t know anything more,” he said as Maggie and I bombarded him with questions.

We stepped off the elevator and raced to x-ray, bursting through the double doors. Booker was there
, pacing about like a little lost boy. My compassion for the man ticked up a notch.

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

Booker shook his head, but said nothing, He didn’t even acknowledge my presence with his customary sneer.

“How long’s he been in there?” Seth asked, leading Booker to some chairs where they both sat.

“Since I called you,” Book said, his eyes focusing on nothing. “I thought he was dead. I turned around when a nurse screamed. He was already on the floor, his body twisted at funny angle. He was unconscious for over five minutes.” He pinched his eyes shut.

Seth rubbed his shoulders. “But he came to. You said he woke right
up before they took him for a CAT scan. Right?”

“Yes.” Booker faced Seth. “He looked bad, like a corpse, all pasty and . . . and his eyes were . . .”

I couldn’t take it. I spun away and paced to the window, pressing my head to the glass. He had to be all right. He just had to be.

Maggie came up behind me. “Are you okay?”

I shook my head, but didn’t dare speak.

“Come sit.” She took me by the shoulders. “I’m afraid you’ll drop next.” Like a robot, I allowed her to guide me into a chair. She sat next to me and held my hand, her face still pale. I wanted to encourage her, to tell her everything would be fine. Cole tripped and fell all the time. This was not a big deal. I wanted to tell her that, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t speak. I could barely breathe.