My lips moved to talk, but Paxton stopped me. “No, no. Shhh. Just do what you’re told and shut the fuck up. Now!” he ordered with angry words against my lips.
From my current predicament, there was nothing else to do. Not until I figured out who the hell I was, anyway. It wasn’t this. That I knew for sure. I was stuck with nothing to do, but obey, and wait. Wait for what, I didn’t know. A memory and then a way out. Rowan and Ophelia made it all better. I struggled with Rowan between my legs, trying to brush out her golden locks. If I used my right hand it hurt my wrist. If I used my left hand it hurt my shoulder.
“I can help you, Mommy,” Ophelia offered in a sweet angel voice. She took the brush from my hand and sat on the floor. Rowan perched in front of her and crossed her legs. That was the first premonition that I had about anything so vivid.
Two little girls sat just like Rowan and Ophelia. Their outfits matched. White sundresses and natural dark skin, a Mediterranean heritage maybe. They looked alike. Exactly alike.
“What’s wrong?” Paxton questioned. The vison of the little girls vanished with my blinking eyes.
“Nothing, I was just—.”
“Go get the two books we talked about,” Paxton said to the girls, cutting me off mid-sentence. He leaned over the back of the sofa with a handful of my hair and kissed my neck. “Unless you’re about to tell me you’re done with this shit, and tell me where you were, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t care.”
I didn’t respond. I already knew he didn’t want a reply. Paxton ran his hand over my breast and pinched, producing a hard bead behind my shirt.
“I can’t wait to bathe you,” he whispered with another twist. The whimper that escaped without permission was from pain, not arousal. Paxton kissed my cheek and backed away when both girls came bouncing in, carrying photo albums.
Anxiety filled my nerves, sending a chill down my spine. I tried to swallow the dry lump, only to have it get stuck half way down.
“You girls help Mommy remember while I go clean up the kitchen.” His fingers poked Ophelia’s ribs as he walked by. I laughed, but not at him. At her. She dropped straight to the floor on her knees to get away from him. She was like me. I hated to be tickled, too.
I did?
“Me first,” Rowan said, her little body sliding next to me. I could smell the strawberry shampoo in her wet hair, and the scent of Lavender from her summer pajamas. Mmmm. I loved lavender. I didn’t even question why. I had a lot of those things, premonitions that I didn’t understand, I knew things, but I didn’t know how. Like lavender and hating to be tickled.
“No, I’m going first. Dad! You said I could!” Ophelia shrieked, body flopping to the floor with a loud shrill. Jesus. Cute and adorable into a full-blown meltdown in a flash. Paxton glared at me and I gave it right back to him. If he thought I knew what to do, he was crazy. I didn’t. He dropped to one knee and patted her tummy.
“Hey, we just talked about this. You don’t get what you want by throwing yourself on the floor. You can’t scream when you get mad.”
Ophelia settled but continued to whine. “But, I already did it.”
“I know, and I don’t like it. Next time, you’re going to timeout. Okay? You can take turns flipping the pages at the same time.”
I watched Paxton scoop her up and pat her on the butt. He picked up her album and she settled in beside me. I tugged on her nightgown and covered her bare legs while, relaxing into the back of the sofa. My heart melted with love.
“You can open yours first, Rowan,” Paxton offered. His stern glare to Ophelia made her recant the whining she was ready to share. She whimpered and nestled into my arm. I hugged her close and kissed her wet hair, the fresh scent of strawberry and lavender, satisfying my senses.
Rowan smiled up at me, teal eyes gleaming. “This was when I was a baby,” she began as her hand turned the cover. A hospital photo of her, Paxton, and someone that wasn’t me. A stunning blonde held her in her arms. “That was my first mommy, but she left.”
My eyes moved to Ophelia’s album when she insisted it was her turn. I looked at the first page with my mind still on Rowans, a newborn. I held her in my arms and Paxton held Rowan. Ophelia had more hair than her, but I could tell it was Rowan. White fuzz stuck straight up on her little head. They were very close in age. Maybe a year apart.