Letting Go (11 page)

Devlin turned the lamp on the desk off, grabbed the suit jacket from the back of the couch and left his study. It was nearly two o’clock in the morning and, as with every other Sunday these past couple months, his parents were stopping by to accompany him and the children to early morning church services. Ryan’s refusal to ride in a car had forced Devlin to seek out a church within walking distance. Luckily, he’d been able to find one only a few blocks away and his parents had foregone worshipping at the small parish they had joined nearly thirty years ago just so they could be involved in Ryan and Isabel’s religious education.

With only a few precious hours of sleep ahead of him, Devlin made his way towards the stairs but stopped when he heard a noise coming from the kitchen. He dropped his jacket over the bannister and turned and went down the hallway. The kitchen was dark except for the light coming from the open door of the refrigerator. Bare legs and feet peeked out from underneath the length of the door.

“Miss Wilkes?” He saw her feet jump and then heard something slam into a refrigerator rack.

“Ow, damn  it!” she cursed as the deli meats in her hands went flying.

Devlin went to her and closed the refrigerator. She was rubbing the side of her head. Her hair was loose and she was wearing a T-shirt and flannel shorts.

“Are you all right?” he asked as he took the rest of the food from her arms and dumped it on the island in the middle of the kitchen. He flipped on a small light above the double sink.

“I will be if you promise not to sneak up on me like that again,” she snapped irritably as she collected the food packages from the floor.

“Do you know what time it is?” She cast him an irritated look and then went back to the refrigerator and continued to rummage. “What are you doing up?”

She put a jar of mayonnaise on the island and then began searching the cupboards. “Do you really expect me to believe that a man who has as much money as you do can’t figure out what I am doing in this kitchen at two o’clock in the morning?”

It
had
been a foolish question. She’d slept through dinner. He had considered waking her but since her first day had been so rough he figured she could use every ounce of sleep she could get. But even in the dimly lit kitchen he could see that she still had smudges under her eyes and her movements were heavy with exhaustion.

Casey tried to ignore him as she went to work on her sandwich but his presence made her nervous. Why wasn’t he leaving? He had pulled up a stool near the island and had proceeded to make himself comfortable. The more he studied her, the more her appetite began to dwindle. She sawed away at the loaf of French bread. Several more seconds of silence followed. “It was her room, wasn’t it? The one I’m using? Amanda used to stay there, didn’t she?”

“Yes. Does it bother you? I can have your things moved to a different room.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just that-” She stopped and shook her head.

“What?”

“I know it sounds crazy but I can feel her presence. We always shared a room growing up…I guess it feels like we still do.” She slapped some mayo on the bread and then started stacking it. “How well did you know her?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, not quite sure what she was looking for.

“You know what I mean – she left her daughter in your care. That has to mean something.”

“I wasn’t involved with your sister Miss Wilkes. She was my employee.” She pinned him with her gaze and studied him for a long moment.

“No. My sister wasn’t stupid – she picked you for a reason.”

Caught off guard by her mysterious observation, Devlin went to stand next to her and started working on a sandwich for himself. It occurred to him that she hadn’t seen her sister in five years and that it was important for her to know the woman that Amanda had become.

“I met her a little over a year ago when she interviewed for the nanny position. She had no references, no experience and a bouncy three year old in tow but there was something about her – something about the way she looked at Isabel. I hired her on the spot.” He chuckled. “She was so happy that she couldn’t stop crying or hugging me. And Ryan adored her. He’d been so quiet these past years but she had him laughing and talking within days.”

“She always loved children. What about Isabel’s father?”

“She didn’t talk much about him or herself for that matter. Most of what I learned came from the private investigator after she died. I found Isabel’s birth certificate among her things so it wasn’t real hard to track her father down. He died of a drug overdose just after Isabel was born.” He paused and glanced at her.

“Are you sure you want to hear this?” She nodded. Her eyes were on her sandwich but she wasn’t working on it anymore.

“After you left, Amanda started getting involved with the wrong people. She drank, did drugs. Your parents eventually had her committed to a mental institution. That’s why her will won’t hold up in court.”

Casey didn’t respond. Instead, she finished making the sandwich, then turned her back to the island and jumped up to sit on it. She took a bite out of the sandwich and then set it down on a nearby plate.

“Your sister was a good person Casey. She just wanted to start over.”

“I like it when you say my name,” she said softly. He looked up at her and held her gaze. She was softer somehow. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was but in the short time that he had known her she was either cold and temperamental or had detached herself from everything and everyone around her. Afraid that he would say the wrong thing, Devlin just smiled and then tried to focus his attention back on the sandwich in front of him. “Did you love her?” It was a loaded question that he had never even answered for himself.

“Our relationship was a professional one,” he said as he started cleaning up the counter.

“But did you love her?”

He turned to face her. “She was a special woman and she deserved better than she what she got. Yes, I loved her. But I wasn’t in love with her.”

Casey accepted the answer. “I’m glad she finally found some peace in her life.”

He moved closer to her. “And what about you Casey? Have you found peace?”

The warmth was gone almost instantly. He regretted the loss but knew that he had started something that he needed to finish.

“Of course I have.” The lightness in her voice was forced. Casey jumped down from her perch and turned her back to him to reach for the sandwich. “I should go to bed now…” She was about to leave but he moved directly behind her, his large body preventing her escape. She stiffened as she felt his fingers skim along the lower part of her back. His breath blew softly against her ear as he spoke.

“I won’t let them hurt you ever again.” The hand on her lower back started to push the back of her shirt up as his other hand came to rest lightly on her left arm as if to steady her.

“Don’t,” she whispered as his fingers drifted across one of the scars near the base of her spine. Humiliation burned into her soul as he leaned back and lifted the shirt higher to view more of the scars. Waves of disgust rippled through her at each touch. He had no idea what he was doing to her.

“Do they still hurt?”

“No.” When his palm spread warmly over her back, she started fighting him. “Devlin, stop.”

“I won’t hurt you. I just need to see them. I need to know what it was like for you,” he said softly as he used his body to force her to remain still. Her only option would have been to strike at him with her free hand but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Tears fell freely from her eyes and onto the countertop.

“Devlin, please, you have to stop.” It was something in her voice that stopped him. He allowed her to turn and face him but he wouldn’t release her from the prison his outstretched arms made on the counter. She refused to meet his gaze. Each tear that hit the linoleum was testament to what he was putting her through but he needed her to know what he was feeling.

“They don’t disgust me Casey” he said as he ran one of his hands slowly up the length of her arm. Her body was shaking violently. Several moments passed but his touch only made her shake more. He suddenly remembered the day in the study when she had been mesmerized by the touch of his hand on hers. She’d acted like she’d never been touched before…

“Devlin, please, let me go” she begged.

“It’s not because you think I’ll hurt you, is it?” he whispered as the truth started to sink in.  It was a statement, not a question.

Casey stifled back a harsh sob as she again tried to escape him. He was too close to figuring it out. It was another humiliation she just couldn’t take. But he wouldn’t release her. She had to stop this. With all her strength, she shoved against him and struck out violently at his chest. Her action got the results she wanted and grabbed her wrists firmly and forced them to her sides. But his grip was gentle; she could have easily pulled free if she wanted. Before she even had the chance, he released her wrists but still didn’t step away from her. Desperate, she slapped him. He didn’t react – he didn’t even try to stop her when she did it again. Frustration ripped through her.

“Why aren’t you fighting back?” she shouted unreasonably. His response was to take the hand she had slapped him with into his own hand. He stared at it intently as he gently rubbed the stinging part of her palm. “I don’t understand you!” she cried.

“Tell me what you feel when I do this” he whispered as he continued to stroke her hand. The stinging had dissipated. She offered no resistance but didn’t say anything either.

“Does it feel good?”

She wanted so badly to lie but she couldn’t. The sooner she told him the truth, the sooner he would leave her be. “No.”

He didn’t seem surprised by her answer.

“How does it feel?”

“Like there’s something crawling underneath my skin and I’m going to be sick.”

“Does it feel like that when I do this?” He gripped her wrist in a painful hold for a quick moment before releasing it.

“No.” He didn’t touch her again. “You figured it out…does that make you proud?” she asked quietly.

“No,” he said solemnly. “No, it doesn’t make me proud.” He stepped back from her.

Putting the formality back in their relationship, she said, “Mr. Prescott, I’m not sure why you find it so necessary to continuously prove your social, intellectual and now emotional superiority over me but I came here for one thing and one thing only. I haven’t asked for anything from you but I am now. Aside from when my presence is needed for the custody case or to keep up this ridiculous pretense of our “friendship,” I’d appreciate it if you would stay away from me.” She pushed past him and left the kitchen.

***

Devlin never went to his bedroom that night. Instead, he spent the evening outside in the greenhouse. The frigid cold seeped through his light shirt but he was already too numb to notice it. Surprisingly, his thoughts were on his wife. Her love of flowers had been the reason he had had the greenhouse built. Even though it was small, it had all the features that even the most expensive greenhouses had including year round heat and an automatic sprinkler system. None of these things were in use anymore of course since everything in the greenhouse had died long ago. Mrs. Potter had tried to maintain the plants but she lacked the green thumb that his wife had had. In the end, his wife and her precious greenhouse had died of the same thing – neglect.

Devlin was finishing his last year of graduate school at Harvard when he met Jennifer, a junior at Brown majoring in art. He’d been entranced from the moment he saw her. A stunning beauty with a passion for painting and a quiet grace that overwhelmed him, he’d proposed to her within a few months of his graduation. At her young age, her agreement seemed to be more out of her desire to escape her wealthy parents’ strict household rather than any feeling of love she might have had for him. Unlike the other young socialites, Jennifer had wanted more from life than money could buy. She wanted to experience life in its beauty and its harshness and then put the results to canvas. Devlin hadn’t realized it at the time but Jennifer had seen him as someone who would be able to show her that life. She had probably assumed that his working class background meant he lived differently than her parents and friends. What she hadn’t realized until it was too late was that he wanted out of that world. He wanted the world she had grown up in.

By the time the doomed pair had realized their mistake it was too late. For the first several years of their marriage, Jennifer had tried to paint but the constant social outings and networking that were a requirement of Devlin’s business made it impossible to find inspiration. In short, she had walked from one prison into another. He had inadvertently and unknowingly destroyed her only dream of finding herself and discovering who she could be outside the realm of her parent’s control.

At first Devlin had been too busy and too naïve to notice the depth of his wife’s loss. When she continued her downward spiral, he had suggested that they start their family, hoping that motherhood would bring her around. She’d been too far gone to even argue and Ryan was born within the year. But her son had the opposite effect. Instead of inspiring her, he became a symbol of what she had given up and the type of life she had condemned herself to. In less than a year, she was dead by her own hand.