Everything We Keep: A Novel (24 page)

I sighed dejectedly. Then with grim resignation, I told Carlos our story.

CHAPTER 28

Since the day James had gone missing, I kept everything the same. His studio at home. The art on the wall. His clothes in our closet. Like Nadia had mentioned before I came to Mexico, pictures of James were everywhere.

And I’d held on to everything. Dreams of a future with him by my side. Hope he still lived and would come home soon. Memories of our life together, including one memory I’d sworn to never tell a living soul.

It had been a difficult promise, but I did it for James. When he was ready, we’d work through the trauma and heal together. Until that time came, he’d been reluctant to discuss the ordeal, or as I was starting to suspect, too afraid.

After the funeral, I wondered if the day would come I wouldn’t have to suffer silently on my own.
You’re still holding everything inside,
Kristen had told me months ago. If she only knew the secret I had buried.

I had wished for one last chance to tell James how I felt. How he had made me feel that day in the meadow. Alone and afraid. Now here he was—and in a way, wasn’t—sitting before me and ready to listen.

Carlos held my hands, the contact reassuring as I told him how we’d met. It was odd reliving memories where James had played a role, and he couldn’t remember a single moment. I explained how my family, not his, nurtured his talent. I shared the story of our first kiss and first dance. A smile curved my lips when I remembered James visiting from college. We’d made love under the stars in our meadow. Then I recalled how James asked me to marry him.

I stared at our clasped hands and slid my fingers from Carlos’s grasp.

“There’s more, isn’t there?”

I nodded, tugging at the engagement ring.

“What happened to you?” he asked carefully.

Memories crept forth, slithering from the dark hole where I’d left them.

“We were at our meadow on the ridge, our special place,” I said after a moment. “James had spread a blanket on the grass. We watched the sun set behind the hilltop, and he proposed.”

“I’ll paint the sunset for you, and many more, if you wear this,” he said to me. An opened black velvet box rested in his palm, a square-cut diamond in a platinum setting tucked inside.

“Oh!” I cried. “It’s beautiful.”

I splayed my fingers and James kissed the space between the first and second knuckles. He slid on the ring. A perfect fit. We were a perfect fit.

“Marry me, Aimee Tierney. Be my wife.”

“Yes!” My eyes misted. I threw my arms around him. “A thousand times yes!”

“Thank God.” He laughed, and spun me around.

I squealed. “Did you have any doubt?” I teased, winded when he put me down, my body quivering as I slid down his length.

“None,” he said and kissed me. “I have champagne in the car. Wait here.”

I watched him jog toward his car and disappear into a thin tree grove. I heard the trunk pop and glass shatter. “Everything OK?” I called out.

“All’s good,” came a strained response. “Be right there.”

I stood, angling the diamond at the sunlight. The gem sparkled. “It’s perfect, James,” I said when I heard footsteps behind me. I turned and bumped into Phil.

He smiled thinly. “Hello, Aimee.”

I gasped and backed up a step. “What are you doing here?”

“Celebrating with you.”

“I don’t understand. Where’s James?” I looked past Phil’s shoulder.

“He’s . . . busy.” His hand shot out and clutched my jaw, his thumb pressing into my cheek. He held me in place.

Terror spread through me like spilled oil, slow and thick. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t look quite right. His eyes glassed over and sweat sheened his forehead. He hauled me into his chest, fingers biting my flesh. Alcohol tainted his breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Phil, you’re hurting me,” I cried.

“I’m sorry.” His mouth slammed down on mine. He tasted like gin.

Tears sprung in my eyes and fear clawed up my throat. I jerked from his grasp, stumbling backward. “James!” I screamed.

“Fuck James!” Phil’s face turned purple with rage. He lunged for me, throwing me facedown on the ground, and I landed hard on my back. Air whooshed from my lungs.

“Your boyfriend and his fucking brother have taken everything from me. Everything,” he bellowed in my ear. “Donato is my company.
Mine!
”

His hand curved around my skull, pushing my nose into the dirt. I couldn’t scream. I couldn’t breathe. My fingers clawed at the ground.

“I’ve already taken from Thomas. He’s such a fucking idiot. He’s got no clue what I’ve been doing with his precious merchandise.” The sound of a zipper punctuated his words. He hooked his feet inside my ankles and spread my legs. “Now it’s James’s turn. Donato doesn’t mean shit to him. But you! You mean fucking everything.” His breath wind-tunneled in my ear. Saliva splattered my face. He yanked up my skirt and tugged aside my panties. The elastic bit into my skin. “He’s taken from me, so I’m taking from him.”

He pressed his fingers into me, a thick, dry invasion. It burned. My lungs burned. The rough ground dug into my cheek as I struggled for air. The pressure on my back, the sickening pressure invading me, and the viselike grip on my lungs was too much. My vision faded, blackening along the edges. Then all pressure vanished.

I sucked in air, short, rapid pulls. I lifted to my hands and knees, coughing. Spittle laced with dirt rained from my mouth.

“Aimee.” James dropped to his knees in front of me. “Sweetheart.” His voice ravaged. His hands ran over me, straightening my clothes, smoothing back hair from my sweat-drenched face. “I’m here.”

Bile rose. I pushed aside his hands and crawled away. I heaved and spewed everything—everything but Phil’s vile touch. I couldn’t stop feeling his hands.

James came to my side, lifting me to my feet. His hands shook violently. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

I glanced beyond James. Phil lay prone in the tall grass, unmoving. “Is he . . . ?”

“He’s alive. Don’t look.” He gathered the blanket and hurried us to the car.

“You’re going to just leave him there?”

“Yes, I am.” He folded me into the front passenger seat, then slammed the door. He ran to his side, firing the ignition before the door closed. The car squealed away from the meadow and sped down the hill.

I started shaking, small vibrations increasing to a full-body quake.

“It’s over, Aimee.”

Dry grass and twigs clung to my skirt. Dirt marred my fingernails. I tried to clean them. “I’m dirty. I’m so dirty. We have to go home. Take me home.” Nausea coiled in my belly.

“We can’t . . . 
fuck
!” He banged his hand on the steering wheel. “My parents are expecting us. They’ll ask questions if we don’t show, especially Mom. I want us to get to the house before Phil does.”

I gagged. “He’s going to be there?”

“He sure as hell better not be, but I’m not taking any chances. We’ll make the visit with your parents quick. I promised your dad we’d come by after I proposed.”

I looked in the visor mirror and whimpered. Leaves and grass clung to my hair. Scratches covered my right cheek and jaw. A bruise bloomed on my chin. My makeup was gone. I fumbled for my mascara and tried to apply the liquid coal. It smeared on my cheekbone.

James swerved to the side of the road and grabbed a towel from his gym bag. His hands shook as he poured water on the towel. “Look at me.” He gently cleaned my face. “You can’t tell anyone about Phil. Your parents, my family, our friends. No one can know what happened. Do you understand me?” He dabbed dirt from a raw scratch on my jaw. I jerked and he shushed. “There’s shit going down at Donato, and Phil’s involved.” He grabbed my purse and dug out the concealer. He patted the powder on my cheek, blending the makeup into my skin. “I’ll take care of Phil. He’ll never hurt you again.” He unscrewed the mascara tube. “Here, look up.” I did, and with his steady painter hand, James applied the mascara. “It’s my job to protect you. I’ll always keep you safe. You hear me?”

I sucked in my lower lip and nodded.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

Our gazes locked and the intensity of his rage scared me. His eyes glass-hard, his face rigid steel. “I’ll make sure Phil stays away. He won’t touch you.”

Blood trickled down James’s temple and I whimpered. “You’re hurt.” I touched the knot on his head and he flinched.

“It’s not bad. Only a cut.”

I took the towel from him and poured more water. Dabbing gently at his face, I watched the dark liquid bleed pink on the white towel. “I love you.”

“I know.” James briefly closed his eyes. “God, I hate it has to be this way, but we have to go. Your parents are expecting us. If we’re late, they’ll ask questions.”

“But I have questions,” I whimpered. “Phil did this to hurt you. That’s what he said. Why, James? What’s going on between you?”

James shushed me. He cradled my face and pressed his forehead to mine. “I’ll answer all your questions when I can. I’ll tell you everything, I promise,” he said, his throat thick with unshed tears. “Until then, you have to trust me to keep you safe. I know what I’m doing. Please, please trust me.”

“OK,” I conceded and forced Phil from my mind. To an unreachable corner of my soul.

We drove to my parents’ house and plastered on smiles. We toasted with champagne, finishing a bottle among the four of us. The more I drank, the easier it was to forget what had happened in our meadow.

Then we walked to James’s parents’ house and did the same thing all over again. The house was quiet when we arrived.

“Is anyone home?” I asked James as we walked into the living room. Champagne chilled in a sterling silver bucket on the sideboard. At least we’d been expected.

Worry clouded James’s face. He glanced around the room. His father had been ill. I folded my hand in his. “Let’s go find your parents.”

At that moment, Claire Donato rounded the corner with open arms. “Congratulations!” she sang, and hugged James.

Claire turned to me next. She clasped my hands. “Welcome to the family. We’re thrilled to have another Donato.”

I forced a smile, wincing at the pain in my jaw.

“You are planning to take our name?” she asked, mistaking my reaction. “God forbid you keep your surname, or worse, hyphenate your name with ours.”

“Well, I . . .” My voice trailed. I looked at James.

He glowered and went to uncork the champagne.
Pop!
The noise ripped through the frigid air. I gasped and Claire jerked. She looked down her nose at James.

“I’d be honored to take the Donato name,” I rushed to say. “I love James.”

“Of course you do, dear.”

James poured two flutes. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s in his room. He’s not feeling well tonight.” Claire gave me an apologetic look. “His lungs have been temperamental today.”

James spared his mother a glance as he poured another glass. “When’s his next exam?”

“You know your father. He’s more stubborn than you and Thomas put together.”

James shook his head, refusing to be baited into an argument with his mother. He gave her a glass.

She shrugged a delicate shoulder. “If your father won’t give up his cigars, he won’t go back to the doctor. He’ll put any visit off until the last possible moment. He’s already cancelled two appointments his nurse scheduled for him.”

James didn’t look happy. He scowled and handed me a glass.

“When’s the wedding?” Claire asked.

“We don’t have a date yet. Perhaps next summer? July?” I gave James a questioning look.

“That will be lovely, you must use our church.”

“We plan to.” James wrapped his fingers around mine. He pulled me closer. “We also plan to have the reception at The Old Irish Goat.”

Claire’s face twisted. “Oh no. That won’t do. That restaurant is too small.”

“
That
restaurant belongs to Aimee’s parents. They’ve generously agreed to host us.”

“It’ll be dreadfully crowded for all our guests. Where will you seat everyone?”

My fingers nervously twisted around the flute stem. “Actually, James and I want a small wedding. Close friends and family.” Family that didn’t include his cousin Phil. My stomach clenched.

The front door slammed. I stiffened, my eyes wild as James and I exchanged glances. A loud
whoop
came from the foyer. “Do I hear wedding bells?”

Thomas appeared in the doorway. A relieved sigh left me in a rush. James squeezed my fingers.

Thomas approached us. He hugged me, smacking a kiss on my cheek. “Congratulations. Welcome to the family, little sis.” He gave my chin a mock chucking, brushing my concealed abrasions. I inhaled through my teeth. James knocked his brother’s fist away. Thomas playfully shoved James’s shoulder, and then drew him in for a manly hug. In the length of a heartbeat, James pushed him away, his patience with his family at an end.

“Aimee was just telling me about their wedding plans,” Claire explained to Thomas, giving him a glass of champagne. “James, I think you should consider Phil for one of your groomsmen.”

I felt the color drain from my face.

Thomas narrowed his eyes at me and James clenched his jaw. “I don’t want him there.”