Break Through (5 page)

Grabbing onto the bannister
, I pulled myself to a standing position. My legs felt wobbly, my whole body electrified. Even though I was afraid to tell Mom, I lifted my head high. “I’m gonna go to his house tomorrow.”

“You’re what?” Mom’s face paled.

My stomach knotted, knowing what she was thinking. I sighed. “To help him with his plants, Mom.”

Dad
stepped into the room, his gaze darting between the two of us. “What’s going on?”

“Aspen is going over to Carter’s tomorrow to help him with his plants.” Mom spoke through gritted teeth.

“Good for her.” Dad nodded. “It’s about time she got out of the house and did something.”

“Are you serious?” By the daggers in her eyes, my guess was that Mom was not expecting this response from Dad.

“Yeah.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “Caroline, it’s time for you to loosen the reigns. She’s twenty-three.”

I smiled. He was right. I was twenty-three, and it was time for me to start acting like it.

I dreamt of Kurt
. Of his brown hair, dark eyes and large smile. Of his calloused hands and flannel shirts he always wore. He was everywhere. I couldn’t escape him no matter how hard I tried. When I ran away, attempting to go outside, I found myself in the room he kept me. The bars on the window taunted me. The dolls and stuffed animals mocked me with their crudely stitched-on smiles that made them appear as if they were constantly laughing. My chest tightened, and it was hard to catch my breath. That’s how I felt in captivity. Like I could never catch my breath. As if I was always drowning.

I awoke with a gasp. My heart beat erratically in my chest, and my fists held tightly to my comforter. So tightly that it hurt when I released my death grip. The scent of dust and sour milk lingered in my memory. It
was the scent of his house. Like something was rotten. I used to imagine it was his heart I was smelling. It was the very essence of his soul seeping out. As if evil had a scent.

Breathing deeply, I took in my surroundings – my simple purple bedspread with no frills at all,
the plants hanging from the hooks in the ceiling and the skylight above me with the early morning sun shining on my face. The comforts of home soothed me, and pretty soon my heart slowed. It beat softly as if keeping time with a melody. The years I spent at Kurt’s, my heartbeat was fast and manic, like it had taken up drumming for a rock band. There were days I wondered if a child could die of a heart attack, because if so, I was sure that was my fate. Sadly, I would have welcomed death that way. A fast and painless way to heaven.

Heaven
. That was a place I fantasized about a lot. My parents were never religious, but we had attended the occasional church service over the years. While I was held hostage, I recalled those messages. The ones of hope and of an eternal future. Heaven seemed like a glorious place filled with angels and light. A place where I could run and be free. Where no one would keep me locked up. Where bad guys couldn’t reach me. I think I also liked the idea that there was a heaven, because it meant there was a hell. A special placed reserved for men who stole little girls from their parents. Men like Kurt. The idea of him burning for all eternity gave me a sick sense of satisfaction.

Sitting up in bed, I smoothed back the long strands of hair from my face. My cheeks were slicked with sweat. Probably from my nightmare. If only I could stop dreaming of him and that house. It had been ten years
, and yet he seemed to make appearances in my dreams too often. Over the years therapists had told me it was normal. But it didn’t feel normal to me. I wanted nothing more than to forget all about that time in my life. To close the book on that chapter and then lock it tight, never to be reminded of it again.

I thought about what Carter and Mom said about this article giving me closure, and I hoped they were right.
Maybe speaking out once and for all would put it to rest. Then I could leave it in the past where it belonged.

I stretched my arms up above my head, my gaze lighting on the window. Flowers greeted me from outside, bright and colorful. A smile landed on my lips as my thoughts drifted to Carter and the plans we had today.
I wouldn’t let thoughts of my kidnapping ruin this day for me, so I shook off the remnants of my dream. After checking the clock on my nightstand I hopped out of bed. My bare feet hit the floor and I hurried across the room to my dresser. Yanking open a drawer, I perused through it until I found a cherry red tank top and a pair of jean shorts. After snatching out a bra and underwear, I carried my clothes in my hand and headed outside.

That was the only thin
g I didn’t like about the guesthouse. It didn’t have its own bathroom. Dad had given me false hope when he kept calling it a guesthouse before I’d seen it. In reality it’s just a guest room. I still had to go into the main house for everything other than sleeping. But I’d learned to keep my mouth shut and not complain. They were trying.
They were always trying.

The aromatic scent of coffee assaulted me the mi
nute I stepped inside. Mom and Dad’s voices traveled from the kitchen. I padded down the hallway. When I neared the kitchen, I saw that Mom had her head on Dad’s shoulder and his arm was draped around her. They talked faintly, their backs to me. My heart squeezed. It was so rare to see them like this. I wondered if I would ever know love like theirs. Was I too damaged to ever experience it, or was it possible for someone like me to heal?

Going to Carter’s house seemed like a good idea in theory. Reality was a little different. One thing I hadn’t thought through was getting into his car. Another thing I hadn’t thought through was going alone with him to his house. A house I’d never seen, with a man I hardly knew. Since my escape, I’d never been to anyone’s house alone. In fact, since we’d moved to
Red Blossom
I hadn’t been inside any home other than ours.

The minute Ca
rter opened the car door for me ushering me inside, I felt the panic attack take root. It started as a little tingle, a tickle in my throat, a tightness in my chest. Pretty soon, I was dizzy and fighting to breathe normally. My hands shook, and my heart took off like a rollercoaster going at full speed.

He motioned me inside.

I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out Kurt’s face. Only he was still there. Smiling that big ass smile of his.

I slid into the seat, closing the door behind me. Rain pelted the window. Heat blew through the vents, warming my icy hands.

“You warm enough?” He asked kindly. Too kindly.

I should have known.

“Aspen?” Carter’s hand nimbly lighted on my shoulder. “You okay?”

I shook my head. No, I wasn’t okay. And I was beginning to think I never would be.
“I-I- I can’t do this,” I spoke under my breath.

“It’s alright. We don’t have to go to my house,” he said. “Here. Take my hand.”

I forced my eyes open, my gaze flickering to the hand he extended. He nodded as I tentatively reached for it with my own trembling hand. It was taking a lot of effort to breathe normally, but I was working at it. When his fingers folded over mine, his skin was soft and warm. His grasp was steady.

“C’mon. I’ll help you back
to the house.” He held firmly to my hand as we began to walk forward.

The further we got from his car, the more composed I felt. “I-I’m sorry,” I murmured, feeling like an idiot. There was no way this guy was ever coming back. I was a nut
-job, plain and simple.

“Its fine, Aspen. You don’t need to apologize.” He guided me up the stairs. They moaned
beneath our feet, reminding me of a child’s wail. When we reached the porch, he released my hand. I let it fall to my side, feeling cold and empty. I missed his touch, missed the way his hand encased mine with strength and assurance.

Glancing over Carter’s shoulder, my gaze swept over
his car parked in the gravel driveway that wound out toward the road. Then beyond that I caught sight of the top of our neighbor’s red barn. I’d never met the man who lived in that house, but my mom said he was a writer. Apparently he lived with his girlfriend, but they rarely left their property. I liked knowing that there were other people like me. People who preferred to stay close to home. It made me feel a little less crazy. Besides, I liked that our closest neighbors kept to themselves. It made it easier to come out here knowing I wouldn’t be hounded by people.

My parents chose
Red Blossom
because it was a small, tight-knit community. I think they felt like I would be safer in a town where people looked out for each other. The problem with tight-knit communities is that word travels fast. Our first month of living here people showed up every day with pies and casseroles in the guise of wanting to welcome us to town. What they really wanted was my story. Specifically how it happened. That was the part of my story people found comfort in. The fact that I went willingly. I wasn’t taken from my room in the dead of night, or snatched from some predator hiding in the bushes. No, it was my mistake that sealed my fate, and it made people believe their children were safer because of it.

But
it didn’t always happen like that. Sometimes kids
were
snatched from their beds. I know, because that’s what happened to Eve.

“Another time, okay?” Carter said, bringing my attention back to him.

“Yeah. Another time.” I lowered my gaze, staring hard at my feet. My insides twisted, knowing there’d never be another time. I’d screwed up. Ruined my one chance for a normal day, a normal relationship. Carter was handsome and successful. He could probably have any girl he wanted, so why would he choose to waste his time with a twenty-three-year old who acted like a scared child?

“You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded, lifting my head and trying to appear braver than I felt.

For a long moment he stared at me as if trying to gauge if I was telling the truth. Then he buried one hand deep into the pocket of the jeans he was wearing.
“Good.” He smiled. “I should go. I’ll see you later.”

When he turned around
, my heart sank. “Yeah, I’ll see you later,” I muttered, knowing the words were nothing but lies. Feeling like a failure, I watched him hop back into his car. The roar of the engine sounded like goodbye.

“Aspen?” Mom appeared in the doorway, her forehead a mess of squiggly lines. “Why is Carter leaving without you?”

I glanced up at the gravel driveway, at the dust Carter’s tires were kicking up. It blew and swirled in the sky like clouds of smoke.

Shrugging, I turned around. “Changed my mind.”

Mom nodded, understanding in her eyes. That was the thing about Mom and Dad. They may have gotten on my nerves at times, but I knew they understood me in a way no one else ever would. Our shared pain had bonded us, woven the three of us together in an unbreakable way.

I didn’t expect him to come back. Not ever. I assumed my mental breakdown in the driveway had scared him off. So when he showed up just a few hours after he had left, I was shocked. I hovered in the doorway of my home like a butterfly hovers a flower. He was definitely like a flower – bright, colorful and gorgeous. Only I didn’t feel like a butterfly. No, I felt more like a caterpillar, all clunky, slimy and awkward.

“What are you doing here?” I leaned against the doorframe, the cold from the air conditioning at my back, the warmth of the sun on my face.

“I brought you pictures.” He patted the bag he held in his hand. “Can I come in?”

My heart skipped a beat, and I moved away from the doorway to allow him entry. “Pictures of me?” I asked as he stepped past me.

“You’ll see.”

I
swiftly closed the door and ushered him into the family room. Anticipation filled me as we both sat down on the couch. Mom passed by, looking in on us curiously. A part of me wanted to motion her over, invite her in to look at the pictures. But a larger part wanted to see the pictures for myself first. I never thought I’d be excited to see photographs of myself, but I wanted to see how Carter saw me. Also, it was nice to be alone with him. I may have been scared to go with him this morning, but here in my house I felt safe. I certainly didn’t need Mom to chaperone us.

Carter set his bag on the floor and then reached inside. He pulled out a stack of pictures and then spread them out over the coffee table. I gasped as my gaze scoured over the bright, glossy pictures. Leaning forward, I plucked one up and held it between my fingers.

“An azalea.” I traced the petals with my fingertips. “But it’s dying.” My eyes met his. “Yours?”

He nodded. “I figured I could bring my flowers to you. Not physically, but in a form that makes sense to me.” Glancing down at the pictures
, his lips tugged at the edges. “Flowers are your thing. Photography is mine.”

I stilled, realizing that these pictures were more than
what they originally seemed. These were a gift. Carter was sharing a part of himself with me. I swallowed hard, staring at the images - the flowers Carter had captured so beautifully and intricately. Silence surrounded us as I formulated the right words to respond with. Finally I turned to him.

“It’s like they have a soul. You made them come to life.”

It’s clear that my answer pleased him with the grin he flashed me. “Wait until you see the pictures of you.” He leaned close, reaching his hand up. I inhaled sharply as his fingers lit on my chin. His skin was smooth, his touch was tender. “I know you think he stole your light, but trust me, he didn’t. It’s there in your eyes.
Sometimes you hide it, but it’s there when you’re vulnerable. In the brief moments when you let your guard down.”

Moisture pricked at my eyes. How had he read me so well in such a short period of time? His hand dropped, his fingers abandoning my face. I sat back, exhaling.

Carter cleared his throat. “So, is there any hope for them?”

I bit my lip and nodded. “They’re not as bad as you said.”

“Really? What about this one?” He scooped up one of the photographs and thrust it in my direction.

A tiny laugh bubbled
from my throat. “Okay, you got me. That one is pretty sad. I’m not even sure what kind of plant it was. But I don’t think there’s any hope for it.”