“My friend Zoe, who was also my roommate at the time, went with me to a bar where we had far too many tequila shots and not enough common sense to fill a thimble between us. Marcus was there that night and he took a liking to me. I am sure he also put something in my drink because I don’t remember going home with him. I was a virgin before I met Marcus. He was very attentive at first, and I don’t even know why. He was a law student about to take the bar exam and eight years older than me. So, without much of an idea of how or why, I was suddenly with this man who’d become obsessed with me literally overnight. He just inserted himself into my life, and I couldn’t escape him, because I was too young, and too na?ve, to even be aware of the risk until it was too late.
“He got me pregnant and then demanded I marry him. I never should have agreed, but given my mum’s history, I did it for the baby’s sake. He moved us to California the minute classes ended. I didn’t even get to go through graduation ceremonies. Los Angeles is where his family lived, and that’s when my nightmare really began. Marcus had a mental illness I am certain, and his erratic behavior just grew worse as my pregnancy advanced. He would get angry at the most insignificant things and fly into a rage, terrorizing anyone within range.
“His family also ran some criminal enterprises of smuggling guns and other black-market items. They used their storage rental units as a front for the real business of smuggling I think. I tried to stay out of their way as much as possible, but it wasn’t always easy for me to do that, because he used drugs to manipulate and control me. Prescription painkillers—I don’t even know what drugs he gave me, just that they helped block out the nightmare that was my life. Which was living with a sociopathic criminal and expecting his child. I didn’t want to have a baby. I was only twenty-two years old, just starting out, with so many hopes—only to find myself pregnant, in an abusive relationship, and addicted to drugs.
“Then the accident happened and he died. I was in a coma for three weeks before I woke up. Once my head was clear of the drugs, I knew I could get help and escape for good. I still worry that Marcus’s dad will show up on my doorstep someday and try to make me go back to California, just to punish me for living instead of his son. Or to make sure I never talk to the police about them. I don’t really know if they would try to hurt me or not, but I don’t want to take the chance, either, so living on the island has its benefits, being so much more secluded.
“When I notified the hospital authorities I was in an abusive family situation, they quietly helped me into a women’s shelter in San Diego. That shelter saved my life, because it was mostly a place of peace. I needed sanctuary after a year of mayhem and chaos. I lived there for six months, learning self-defense and how to be strong. It took my near-death to wake me up so I could have a second chance at living. In total I was away for eighteen months, but like I told you before, having a purpose has made all the difference in helping me to move forward. When Nan needed me, it was time for me to make my way home to Boston, and so here I am.”
“And then you met me,” I said.
“Yes, I met the most wonderful and patient man, who has never made me feel pitiful or weak. He tells me I am brave and smart and beautiful. He makes me laugh, and he makes me cry, too, but the crying is not his fault.”
“It’s not your fault, either, Brooke.”
“He makes me happy, makes me feel so safe, and is such a gentleman always—all-w-w-ways—”
She broke down and couldn’t say any more, so I just held her in my arms and drew my hand over her hair for a long time, imagining a world where there were no fucking lunatics like Marcus Patten, and no innocent young girls being terrorized without hope of escape, and nobody to help them.
How could she think that anything she’d just told me would alter my feelings? The things she’d just shared were all nonissues for me. Only the old New England society into which I’d been born kept track of any of that shit. It wasn’t the 1890s anymore for fuck’s sake. I’d lived in that superficial world for so long, it took Brooke bringing me into the real one to even realize it existed. I had some work to do, but there were good ideas rolling around in my head now. I would figure it out, but most of all I would be patient, because time was what Brooke needed.
I turned to the side to find her lips. She needed to be kissed for a very long time . . . and cherished, to help her remember she was once whole and could be so again.
When I kissed her, she came to life in my arms.
Like Sleeping Beauty in the fucking fairy tale, my beauty came to life in my arms.
Brooke
His weekender bag open on the floor was the first thing I saw when I woke up alone in my bed the next morning. Caleb hadn’t packed his bag and left me. He was still here, somewhere, as daylight blasted in through the slits in the shutters.
And I was still pinching myself.
Caleb was so unlike Marcus. He was also unlike any man I had ever known. He was patient and so very considerate, and he listened. Caleb was the most attentive listener. He never made me feel like he was sorry for me, either. He went out of his way to tell me I was brave or smart. He saw things in me I didn’t see in myself, and now that I’d had a taste of his good opinion, I wanted more of it. So much more. Caleb would give me the world if I let him.