Pandora's Box (previously Worth the Wait, a Zebra print best seller) (18 page)

“May I help you?” The young woman in faded denim jeans and a tee-shirt was not what Charlie expected to find. She smiled warmly and offered her hand. “I’m Valerie.”

“Charlie.” She peeked over Valerie’s shoulder at the rest of the offices. When would the white-coated doctor make an entrance? “Where’s the shrink?”

“If you are looking for a psychiatrist, I’m afraid you’re going to be disappointed. If you need someone to talk with, I’m available.” Valerie glanced toward Damian and back to Charlie. “Would you rather talk in private?”

Charlie hunched her shoulders as if it were no concern to her either way. “I don’t know what I’m doing here. Maybe you should ask the genius over there. He’s the one with all the answers.”

Damian stiffened.

Valerie shot him a sympathetic smile that was silencing at the same time. “Did he carry you in here forcibly?”

“No.”

“Then you know what you’re doing here. I know this is very difficult I understand what you are feeling.”

Charlie glared angrily. “How could you possibly know what I’m feeling?”

“Because I’ve been there. This center is funded and run by women who have all been in your shoes at one time or another. Even our volunteers have all been victims at one time in their lives.”

That Valerie would so openly admit to it in front of Damian surprised Charlie. She didn’t even admit it to herself. “I wasn’t a victim, in that sense of the word.”

“If someone tried to do something against your will, then you are a victim, whether he succeeded or not. The violation of trust is no less painful.” Valerie’s gaze moved between Charlie and Damian. “Do you want to come inside?”

Charlie nodded. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Damian.

“I’ll wait here,” he said.

She nodded again and followed Valerie into another office. She moved as if on automatic pilot, unaware of her surroundings. Her mind was too caught up in the past.

“Is he your boyfriend?” Valerie asked.

“What?” Charlie said numbly, lowering herself into a chair. She hadn’t given her relationship with Damian much thought. He was just Damian. “He’s my brother’s brother. Sounds kind of strange, I guess, but we’re not related.”

Valerie took the seat next to her. “I’ve heard crazier. Is he someone special in your life?”

She folded her arms across her chest. “Right now, I hate him.”

“How did you feel about him yesterday?”

“I don’t know. Yesterday, I didn’t know he knew. He never said a word.” That wasn’t true, she realized. He had said things that she should have picked up on. All those times he told her that she had the right to say no. He had to have known all along. But how? She had never even told Erik.

“You’re very lucky. I know you don’t think that right now. Very few men can even begin to understand what you’re going through. Especially when it isn’t an all-out sexual assault. They can’t figure out why you don’t just get over it. If he brought you here, it was because he cares about you.”

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know anything anymore. He should have said something to me.”

“Yes, he should have. You’ll have to talk with him about why he didn’t.” Valerie placed her hand on Charlie’s arm. “Right now, I’m concerned about you. Did you press charges?”

Charlie lowered her head. “I reported it to my caseworker, but they dismissed it as lies. It got me transferred out of that house and into a place just as frightening.”

“It sickens me to say that it happens all too often in the foster care system today. But you can still file a complaint.”

“It was almost ten years ago. What good would it do now?”

“Not a criminal complaint. His name goes in a large database; and should he ever repeat the offense, they will have to take action. I know it isn’t much help for you, but it might be for any future victim. And you’ll feel better knowing you did something.”

“Has it ever helped anyone?”

“Oh, yes, quite a few women. You might be here awhile. Why don’t I tell your friend that I’ll bring you home later. Is that all right with you?”

For a long moment she said nothing. She didn’t want him to leave but she wasn’t sure she could face him either. Her emotions were a jumble of confusion.

“Charlie? Should I have him wait?”

“No,” she muttered.

Valerie handed her some literature. “Why don’t you read this over while I speak with him.”

* * * *

Damian tried to distract his thoughts by reading the pamphlets and magazines on the table. Nothing held his interest. He remembered Erik’s taunt about his thinking he knew what was best for everyone. Was he wrong about this?

He removed his jacket and tie, tossing them carelessly on the chair. Unable to remain still, he paced the waiting area floor like a caged panther. Why were they gone so long? He looked at his watch for the hundredth time.

“Damian?” Valerie said.

He spun around. “Where’s Charlie?”

“She’s still in the office. She’s going to be here awhile. I’ll bring her back home later.”

“I’ll wait,” he said stubbornly. “I promised her I’d wait.”

She smiled patiently. “It would be better if I bring her later. My replacement comes in at two o’clock. Charlie needs a little distance right now.”

His heart sank. “You’re saying she doesn’t want to see me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“When you say take her home, you mean my home, right?”

“I’ll take her where she asks me to. But if you leave your number, I’ll call you.”

He didn’t want to leave, but he had to respect Charlie’s wishes. “Maybe I should call her brother to pick her up.”

“No. If she wants to talk to her brother, she’ll call him. I know this isn’t easy, but the best thing you can do right now is go home. That way she’ll know where to find you when she’s ready.”

“And what if she’s never ready?” Damian asked slowly, not sure he wanted to know the answer.

“It was a risk you took when you brought her here. If she’s staying with you, then she obviously trusts you. Leave the address with your phone number. If she doesn’t specifically ask me, I’ll take her there.”

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, but it was all he was going to get He left his address and phone number on the reception desk.

For hours after returning to the apartment he did little more than pace back and forth between the rooms, stopping only to stare at the clock. He repeatedly picked up the phone and began to dial the number for the center, but backed down each time. By three o’clock he was nervous. If they were coming to his apartment, they would have arrived already. Charlie must have gone back to her own apartment

He started looking for excuses to go to her. She needed her purse. He should bring her some food. Damn it. Why hadn’t that woman called him? He never should have left. She probably thought he had broken his promise to wait for her.

The doorman buzzed to tell him Charlie was back. He read poor old Henry the riot act for making her wait at all. He didn’t need to be reminded that he paid top dollar for all the security in the building.

Calm down, he told himself. She came back. That must mean something. His calm lasted three seconds and then he began pacing. What had happened to his cool character? Where was his studied reserve when he needed it most?

As the elevator clicked into place he walked back to his apartment door. He stood with a brave smile plastered to his face. Charlie emerged with her head down and scuffed her feet along the hallway. He reached for her. She shoved him away violently and uttered a strangled cry.

Apparently not her first cry of the day. Her eyes were swollen and puffy; her face, flushed and tear
-stained. She rushed past him and locked herself in her room without saying a word to him or Valerie, who waited in the hall.

“You call that helping her?” Damian bellowed.

“What did you expect? That you could drop her off and I’d return her to you perfectly normal? It’s not like getting your car tuned up. It doesn’t work like that.”

Damian bristled from the truth of the words. He was expecting miracles. “I didn’t think she’d look worse than when I brought her there. She won’t speak to me.”

“She will, when she’s ready. You don’t understand. For years she hasn’t been able to cry. Until she can mourn, she can’t let it go. She’ll probably do some strange things in the next few days.”

Damian felt helpless. “What am I supposed to do to help her?”

“You do whatever she wants. If she wants to be held, you hold her. If not, you leave her alone. Don’t try to push anything. From what she says, it’s pretty much what you’ve been doing all along.”

His head shot up. “She said that?”

“Yeah. But don’t let your ego get too out of control. She also said you’re a jerk.”

Damian grinned. If Charlie was up to insulting him, hopefully she would be all right “I know. She tells me that to my face.”

“She’s very confused and not completely sure she wants to trust you again. You didn’t tell her you knew about her past and she’s angry. So she might test you in the beginning.”

“I can handle it”

“I hope so. Because if you break that trust once, you’ll never get it back. So try to be honest, even if you think it might hurt her feelings.” Damian nodded. Valerie smiled, seemingly assured that she was leaving Charlie in good hands. “I have to go. I have to give a pitch for some contributions for the center at a charity function.”

“What should I do right now?”

“Let her sleep. She’s exhausted.”

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing. But some day I might come hitting you up for a donation.”

“You’d get it”

Valerie smiled fiendishly. “That’s what Charlie said, too. And she said to make sure it hurt.”

After Valerie left, he sat down to read the literature. He was able to concentrate better, knowing Charlie was in the next room. The worst was surely over. She still had to come to terms with Peter’s desertion, but they could work through that together.

At dinner time he debated waking her. As far as he knew, she hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He went to her room and knocked softly on the door. She didn’t answer, but he heard her soft whimpering through the door.

Well, what did you expect? he chided himself.

Not only had he forced her to face up to the most terrifying experience of her life, she’d had to go through it alone. He wanted to go in and comfort her, but he couldn’t enter without permission.

During the course of the evening, she came out of the room twice—once to use the bathroom and the other time to get tissues. He tried on both occasions to talk with her, but she didn’t acknowledge him. At eleven o’clock, he went to bed himself, hoping tomorrow would be better.

* * * *

Damian wasn’t sure what woke him. The illuminated digital clock read 2:00 A.M. The room was pitch-black but he knew he wasn’t alone. He sat up and reached for the lamp.

“Don’t turn it on,” Charlie said.

“Is something wrong?”

He heard a soft scraping sound as she slid along the wall. She bumped into the corner of the dresser and muttered an obscenity.

“How long have you known?” she asked.

He opened his mouth to lie, then stopped. Try to be honest, Valerie had warned him. “Since the day after the party.”

“How?”

“Erik told me.”

She groaned painfully. “Erik knows, too?”

He started to get up and remembered that he had nothing on but a pair of boxer shorts. Not a good idea, he decided, even without the lights. “He hired a private investigator to find you and it came up in the report.”

“The official report says I’m a liar. That I might be delusional as well.”

“Erik never believed that, and neither do I.”

Charlie padded her feet across the carpet until she reached the bed. Running her hand along the top to make sure the side was empty first, she lowered herself down and curled up into a tight ball.

Damian pulled the blanket over her. What was going through her mind, he wondered? Silence filled the room but he couldn’t think of a single word to say.

“You can’t bear to touch me, can you?” she accused.

“I would like nothing more than to touch you, Charlie,” he returned. “But I didn’t want to scare you.”

“What scares me is that you’re going to start treating me like some kind of leper.”

If he didn’t trust himself, how could she trust him? He inhaled deeply. “Scoot over here.”

She straightened her legs and rolled into his outstretched arm. Her tee-shirt and his shorts provided little barrier between them. She dropped her hand down on his chest, running her fingers through the mat of hair. His stomach muscles bunched and it seemed to amuse her. She slid one leg through his in a torturously slow movement that seemed premeditated in its execution.

“Can you sleep like that?” she asked.