Fated to be Yours (20 page)

“So your job, while you’re here, is to clean this house from top to bottom. That is payment for us letting you stay here. Every day. I want to see this place spotless and clean. You can start with the kitchen.”

She picks up the mixing bowl she was working with and dumps it in the sink. The clattering of metal utensils echoes around us.

“There’s no dishwasher so you have to do everything by hand. Well, come on. Get to it.”

She turns to leave but stops, glancing over her shoulder. “And no dinner until it’s done.” And with that I’m left alone to my chore. I turn in a small circle and see everything else that I must have missed on my first glance. Numerous cast iron pots and pans lay dirty and crusted over with food on the stove. There are several stacks of plates crawling with bugs on them in the corner. The foul stench of a week’s worth of garbage has my stomach revolting, threatening to spew the bile that’s rising in my throat.

How is this better than my situation? This is so much worse.

Hours pass and I haven’t even made a dent in the mess as she keeps bringing me more and more dirty things to wash. Then she informs me that I am to scrub the floors and the walls before I could even think about eating. That doesn’t stop her from getting a plate of food for herself though.

A man’s laugh startles me as I’m bent down on my hands and knees, scrubbing the corner by the table. I fall back onto my butt and I’m met with a disturbing set of brown eyes. He’s very tall and overweight, allowing his gut to hang over the top of his filthy jeans. He’s in a white shirt, covered in dirt and oil stains. The patches of hair on top of his head indicate he’s probably blonde, but it’s hard to tell. He smiles, showing me his missing tooth on top and I shudder.

“So, you’re the little thing they brought us. Well, that’s good. Very good. Glad to see you’re already working hard to pay your dues.”

He snorts and spits into the sink, directly onto the clean dishes I just finished washing. My spirits sink lower, although I’m not sure how that’s possible. I want to cry. I want to scream or run away, but I know it’s useless.

Two more months.

That’s all I need is two more months. Then I’ll be eighteen and of legal age to take care of myself.

My eyes follow him as he wets his hands under the faucet and wipes them across the cupboards, leaving brown streaks of mud in their wake.

“No clean towels so that will do. Now move your ass and get to cleaning or you won’t like what I’ve got planned for you,” he says, grabbing his belt buckle. His tongue snakes out to run across his lower lip before turning to leave. Another shudder runs through me and I whimper quietly to myself as I turn my focus back to the task at hand.

The tears mix with the bucket of disinfectant as I silently cry. I mourn the life I had. I mourn the person I used to be. I mourn the loss of my childhood. I mourn the loss of me.

Two months.

And not one day over.

I
SHUDDER AS I CLUTCH
my arms tightly around my middle. My eyes close as the visions run rampant through my head. I can still remember every detail of that day, even though I tried as hard as I could to block it from my memory. But there are some things that you see that stay with you forever, some experiences you’re forced to live through time after time as if they were etched into your very existence.

I feel Andrew come up next to me, leaning down so his mouth is pressed against my ear. “Are you cold, love?” he asks. His hands run up and down my tense arms, thinking that I’m freezing when in all actuality I’m fading into numbness. I fight the black that threatens to creep in, willing Andrew’s light to shine down and clear away the memories.

His cologne surrounds me again, clearing my thoughts. His body heat permeates my soul, warming me though I’m not cold. He’s fighting my demons and he doesn’t even know it. My knight in shining armor.

I turn my head to look up at him, our noses inches from each other. “Just thinking, that’s all.”

His lips press into my temple as we rejoin the others, still talking about everything that goes on in the school. I fade in and out of the conversation, too wrapped up in the artwork adorning the walls and the bitter taste of my memory still fresh in my mind.

The bright colored pictures lighten my mood with each one I see. All are of happy things and places. Many of them consist of rainbows and flowers, a few have unicorns and teddy bears. There’s one of a puppy playing with a bone and another of a bright, colorful dragon breathing fire while flying in big puffy clouds.

“What do you say, Tessa?”

I crane my neck toward Kara, not paying attention to anything that is being discussed.

“Huh? Sorry, I guess I didn’t hear what you were talking about.”

“Charles wants to know if we wish to tour the dormitory. I think it’s a fantastic idea, wouldn’t you agree?” she says.

My nerves get the best of me as four sets of eyes wait for my answer. My fidgeting hands can’t stay still long enough as they twist into each other in front of me. Kara notices my discomfort and mouths her apology while no one is looking. I give a slight nod.

“A tour sounds good to me. I would love to see where the kids stay and how they interact with each other.”

“Splendid,” says Charles.

Like a flock of sheep, we follow Charles through the remainder of the building, exiting onto a small cobblestone path that leads to a similar sized building. In the distance, there’s a playground occupied by many children, all swinging or sliding together. The slightly cool breeze carries their laughter through the air, somehow making it feel warmer.

Andrew drapes his arm around my shoulders once again, allowing his heat to warm me without asking. He’s so in tune with my body that he knows exactly when I need him. He kisses the top of my head and I allow this happy moment to erase my earlier depressed mood. The corners of my lips turn up into some semblance of a smile as I snuggle closer to his body. The rumbling of his chest indicates his satisfaction in this as his lips find my crown once more.

The five of us enter a side door that opens into a brightly lit hallway. Painted handprints with children’s names written in calligraphy on the palm make up the front of each bedroom door on both sides of the hall.

“This is the residence hall. All of the children here are set up in rooms by similar ages and separated by floors for boys and girls,” Priscilla explains.

“What is the age range for the children that live in the dorms?” Kara asks.

“We have children as young as age three in the dormitory since we have a preschool program offered at the school. The rule is they have to be able to attend school to be in the residence. All of the infants and toddlers that are too young for school stay at a separate location just down the road from here.”

Kara nods her head as she walks over to one of the doors. There are four tiny handprints that are all painted pink and swirled with purple. I walk up next to her and lightly drag my fingertip across the names.

“I assume that your school follows the same guidelines as the public schools in regards to holidays and time off then?” Kara asks.

“Yes, we follow the same schedule as the public sector since a portion of our funding comes from the government,” Charles says, casually shoving his hands in his pockets.

“So what are the children doing today since it’s a holiday for the public schools?”

Kara’s mind is working a mile a minute and now I know why she said we will be working late tonight. For us to try and get this to work back home it’s going to take a lot of time. But the thought of helping children who have nowhere to go brings a small smile to my face. I’m just thankful that no one is asking me to voice my opinions because I’m not sure I’d be able to stop my voice from breaking or showing too much emotion.

My eyes fall on Andrew’s before they drop to his lips as they curve upward into a smile. He’s just listening to the conversations, but the pride shows on his face as Charles and Priscilla go into detail about what everyday life consists of for the children here. It has my insides melting instantly. He’s passionate about his work, and it shows as I listen to him join in on the conversation. Just thinking about a man, a single man, who only wants to make the world better for children melts you to the core. And for someone like me, a hopeless romantic who falls quickly into her emotions, that is a very dangerous thing. But it’s something I find myself not willing to fight for much longer. At least where Andrew is concerned.

I’m drawn to him, pulled by an invisible string by some unknown power. This man, this beautiful, caring, generous man, for some inexplicable reason, is interested in me. And the way he wants to change the world for the better has me tripping over myself, pushing aside my underlying fears, wanting to stand by his side and help him in this process.

I’ve never really put too much thought into fate but since he keeps bringing it up, it has me thinking more and more about it. Knowing my background, and knowing what his line of work is, this has to be more than coincidence. There has to be a reason why we’re here together.

The feel of his hand wrapping around my hip causes my heart to flutter wildly in my chest and the muscles below my belly to clench with delight. The warm press of his lips against my temple has me sighing with happiness, my earlier gloom gone as I relax into his touch.

“Shall we see if we can find some of the children?” Priscilla asks.

“Oh, yes please. I’d love to have some interaction with them.” I can’t help the massive grin that’s spread wide across my face. Andrew’s fingers flex into my hip as we walk into a commons area located on the ground floor of the building.

Several couches and chairs are littered throughout the room. There’s a TV in the corner surrounded by a small group of kids sitting on the floor. Several boys and girls are reading books and studying at a few tables in another corner while a few little girls are painting their nails and giggling nearby. There are multiple adults scattered throughout the groups, some of them assisting with the homework while others are playing board games or huddled watching the movie.

“This is the general commons room. This is where the children are able to come watch television, play games, hold study groups or just sit and quietly hang out together,” Priscilla says, waving her hand in their general direction.

I have never seen a more well-behaved and quiet group of kids in my life. Even at the library in the high school, there was a constant hum of noise around you, distracting you to the point where you just gave up trying to get anything accomplished. But not here. Even with the TV on, it’s quiet and calm. No one is running around trying to start fights or tattle on the other. Everyone is just sitting quietly or whispering secrets to another, perfectly content with their world as it is.

We leave the room and head a short distance down the hall, walking through a set of double doors that swing open to reveal a large library. I gasp quietly as I look around in awe. This was not what I was expecting to find when we first arrived for the tour. Large wooden bookshelves surround the massive space, each filled with different kinds of books. Tables and chairs occupy the middle of the room, along with a few smaller bookcases.

Along the back wall, there is a loft area where I watch several small kids climb the stairs. With my interests now piqued, I start walking toward the staircase, needing to see what will greet me at the top. I stop at the base of the stairs and look back toward Charles.

“Could I go up there and read a story to the kids?”

“Of course. I’m sure they would love that,” he says.

Several emotions shift through me as I climb the stairs, gripping the railing tight. When the loft comes into view, I gasp at what I see before me. One wall has been painted with the image of a giant tree house, a beautiful mural with big leafy branches and birds flying around puffy white clouds. Another wall boasts a pond scene with ducks and swans swimming in the water and children throwing bread crumbs toward them. The wooden railing overlooking the library has silk ivy laced between the spindles. Multiple silk flowers in colorful clay pots are placed in front of the rail, giving it almost a fairytale appearance.

There are multiple bean bag chairs and plush rugs set up in the middle of the floor, occupied by several children silently reading to themselves. The oldest child I see doesn’t appear to be more than eight-years-old with a few of them looking as young as four. All have their own books, flipping page after page in silence with bright toothy grins on their little faces.

My hand rubs the spot over my heart as I stand at the top of the stairs and watch them, completely overcome with emotions. With a tentative step, I walk further into their space, crouching down low to meet them at their level.

“Good afternoon. How are you all today?”

Ten tiny pairs of eyes all swing my way, each accompanied by big, beautiful smiles. They whisper their greetings to me, still keeping in mind that they’re in the library and need to be quiet.