Scars Of Defiance (7 page)

He opened the tube and squirted some ointment into his hand.
With his other hand, he lifted her shirt up. Her spine tightened at his
impending touch. He figured she was bracing for the pain. His voice softened.
“My goodness, Sara. This does not look good. Does it hurt?”

“Not so much now. The first time I was whipped, it hurt like
… well, it was quite painful. The second time hurt a lot because the first
wounds weren’t even healed yet. The third time and every time since, it’s just
numb. Don’t get me wrong. It always brings tears to my eyes, but the pain
doesn’t last for long anymore.” She tried to sound like it was no big deal, but
inside she was nervous about the idea of Paul rubbing salve on her back. She
didn’t want to show weakness, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted to trust him
just yet.

Paul was glad his face wasn’t visible at that moment. His
eyes were watering with pity and anger. He thought about the fuss he tends to
make whenever he gets just a simple bruise — a single bruise or a cut. She had
so many he couldn’t even count them all. Was she even able to sleep
comfortably? He smoothed the ointment all over her back, being extra careful
with the more recent wounds. She seemed to relax by the time he finished.

“Can I ask you a dumb question?” he said. He gently pulled
her shirt back down into place, and she leaned back against the pillows.

“Fire away.”

He stood up and set the ointment on top of his dresser. “Why
didn’t you run away sooner?”

“Well, for one thing, the lake needed to freeze over, so I
couldn’t cross till it did. I did try to leave several times, but every attempt
was unsuccessful. I didn’t have a place I could hide. No one would take me in
for fear of Reginald Rawlings’s wrath coming down on them. Plus every time I
got caught, the beatings were even more brutal. So out of self-preservation I
decided to wait until everything was in place before I tried to flee again. Of
course, the wedding was coming up way too fast, and I didn’t want to go through
with it. Needless to say, I was glad when I found out the plane was leaving
soon.”

“What would you have done if the plane didn’t leave in time
to get you out of the wedding?”

“Whatever it took.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean. I would have made sure I never
married Victor.”

“End your life?” He was astounded to hear her talk like
that.

She looked down at her hands and twisted and pulled the
loose threads of the blanket.
“Well, you make it
sound so bad.”

“You were considering suicide?”

“If you think about it, getting on that plane and knowing I
might die in the jump was itself a form of suicide, but it was better than
staying in Rendier.” She brought her eyes up to his and sat up a little
straighter as if her spirits were buoyed up with bravery. “I will not have my
children brought up by Victor Rawlings or his father. I lived in that terrible
household for four months, and I refused to marry him. I’m smart enough to know
I didn’t have a choice if I remained in Rendier. Please don’t judge me Paul.”

The look on his face was anger mixed with compassion. She
didn’t know what to say. They just looked at each other for several eternally
long seconds.

“I’ll be right back,” he said. “Ring the bell if you need
anything.” He pointed to the little crystal bell on the tray.

“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” said Zachary,
Paul’s father. He was sitting at the kitchen table with Elsie and his mother
Martha. “And so soon after a drop.”

“How many did you see?” Elsie asked.

“At least six cars. They stick out like sore thumbs, too.
You’d think after all this time they’d try to disguise themselves a little
better. Our methods have evolved over the years, but theirs haven’t.”

“That’s to our advantage,” Elsie said. “We always know what
to expect.”

“I agree,” Martha added, “and because they do things the
same as always, you were able to spot them earlier than usual.”

“The question remains, who are they looking for? And why?”
Zachary said.

Martha said, “Sam has learned that three of his six are from
the insurgent underground. Two are businessmen, and the other one is a
commercial pilot. Sam figures the heat on their heads is minimal.”

Zachary added, “Minimal or not, we can’t let our guard
down.”

“What about Paul’s crosser?” Martha asked Elsie.

“We don’t know anything about her yet. She’s covered in
bruises and scars, poor girl.”

The door to the kitchen opened, and Paul walked in. “I found
out a little more about Sara,” he said as he sat down. “She’s supposed to marry
Reginald Rawlings’s son in three days. Well, she’s being forced to marry him.
Of course, she doesn’t want to. Reginald is responsible for all her injuries.”

“Oh dear, that’s not good, not good at all.” Elsie stood up
and began pacing the kitchen. The tension in her voice rose appreciably. “She’s
the one they’re looking for. We have to move her. She’s too hot. We’re risking
too much.”

“We can’t move her now,” Zachary said. “The heat is already
on. She’ll have to stay here until the coast is clear. We’ll store her
belongings in the crawlspace under Paul’s room.”

“What if we’re raided?” Elsie asked nervously. “They’ll be
looking for trap doors, and the one in Paul’s closet is too obvious.”

“I’ll do some camouflaging, then,” said Zachary. “I’m pretty
sure we have more wood flooring slats in the shed. I can make it blend in with
the existing woodwork. We’ll keep blankets and warm clothing in a box down
there just in case.”

“And some food,” Elsie added.

“Nothing should be left in your room to indicate she’s here,
Paul. If they suspect anything, they’ll tear this house apart looking for her.”

“No problem. My room already looks empty as it is.”

Zachary summed up the situation. “We all need to act as if
nothing is out of the ordinary, yet with a thought for everyone’s safety. No
heroics, or else we risk failure,” he said, looking at Paul.

Sierra lay in bed and concentrated on the swirls in the
plaster ceiling as Dr. Jensen inspected her foot. Earlier, Elsie had brought in
a pair of black spandex knee-length shorts to give her a little more modesty,
for which Sierra was grateful.

“I can’t be sure without an x-ray,” Dr. Jensen said to
Sierra. “But if it’s broken, it’s only a hairline fracture. I think by wrapping
it in a splint and keeping your weight off of it for a couple of weeks, it will
heal on its own.”

Dr. Jensen, a middle-aged heavy-set man, began wrapping Sierra’s
ankle. She glanced around the room full of males. Paul stood by the dresser
with his arms folded across his chest with a worried expression and a pursed
mouth. Zachary sat next to Dr. Jensen with the same concerned look. Her eyes
went back to Paul, only to find his hypnotic gaze still on her.

Dr. Jensen finished caring for Sierra and left the bedroom
with Zachary. They walked to the kitchen, where the doctor’s vehicle was parked
out the back door.

 “What do I owe you?” Zachary asked.

“Just the usual house-call fee. Zachary, what happened to
her? She has some pretty severe contusions on her calves that I can tell aren’t
related to the ankle injury.”

“She hurt her ankle skiing with Paul and refused to go to
the hospital. Paul worried about her so I called you.”

“Why won’t she go to the hospital?”

“No insurance.”

“Skiing doesn’t explain those bruises.”

“She’s an active, sports-minded girl.”

“Sports-minded people don’t usually get hurt like that. I’m
a doctor, Zach, and I suspect her bruises are from abuse. Her ankle injury is
from a fall. It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me any more than that. Just
don’t think of me as an idiot. I think you’re going to have to pay me a little
more for my silence.”

Zachary’s jaw dropped.

“When I say pay me, I mean with a plate of Elsie’s cookies.
They’re worth a lot more to me than any reward.” He winked.

Zachary let out a breath and smiled. “You had me going there
for a moment, Jensen.”

“I would never turn your family in, you know that.”

“I’m sorry for even thinking it.”

“So how about those cookies?” Dr. Jensen hinted and watched
as Zachary filled a plate with some of the cookies that Elsie had taken out of
the oven about half an hour earlier. “I’m sure all those dark-windowed cars
haven’t escaped your attention,” the doctor said as he bit into a cookie.

“I saw them.”

“Any raids yet?”

“No.”

“It’s her, isn’t it? They’re after Sara, aren’t they? I
don’t understand why you put your family in danger, Zachary. It certainly isn’t
for the money, because I know what you charge crossers. You could be asking for
a lot more, and they would pay it. But I know you well enough to know that what
you do is not for the money. I just don’t understand what else it’s all about.”

“Rawlings ordered a hit. They killed my father, Jensen, but
only because they missed their target, my mother.”

“Are you kidding me? When did that happen? I’ve never heard
that before.”

“I was quite young. But it stuck with me so much that I’ve
defied Rawlings ever since. I’ll keep doing what I’m doing until I’m stopped.”

“Someday, I want to hear more about your parents. But for
now, I’ll take these cookies with a better understanding of what drives you,
Zachary.” Dr. Jensen smiled and patted him on the back and left.

Zachary entered the bedroom carrying his toolbox. Paul told
Sierra at one point what his father was doing, but Sierra had a hard time
believing any camouflage carpentry could trick Reginald’s henchmen. Paul
reassured her that his father knew what he was doing and told her not to worry.

Sierra wasn’t worried. She had Paul to protect her. His
masculine presence took the oxygen from her lungs. Since the confusion and
awkward start of the morning, Paul had changed his whole demeanor, and it
wasn’t necessarily a good thing. His change had her thinking about him
constantly and growing more and more attracted to him, if that was even
possible.

“Alright, Paul. This should do the trick,” Zachary said. “This
lever here releases the locking mechanism, and the door drops down.” He pulled
the lever, and the trap door swung downward into the crawlspace. “Once you’re
down, push the door up to close it, and slide the latch from the underside to
secure it. Closing the door from up here is a little trickier. You have to push
this handle on the wall and secure the lock with the same lever used to open it.”

Paul looked at the floor of his closet in amazement. The
trap door was completely invisible to the naked eye. It fit seamlessly into the
hardwood floor as if it were part of the floor. The lever had been brilliantly
installed on the side of the shelving unit directly above the trap door,
blending in perfectly with other wooden shelving parts. If there was a raid,
Paul would be able to hide Sierra quickly and effectively.

“Now give it a try,” said Zachary.

Paul kicked the lever and quickly jumped down the hole and
closed the door in a matter of two seconds. With an injured crosser in tow, it
would take a little longer. Paul scanned the area under the house, noting the
restricted head room and cool dampness of the dirt floor. The trap door dumped
him to one side of the large open space that was beneath the living room, his
parents’ bedroom, the bathroom, and his own room. His mother had filled the far
corner under the living room with boxes and bags of clothing, bedding, and
non-perishable foods, while his father had worked on the craftsmanship of the
door. Should they ever have to use the crawlspace, it was well equipped to
handle them for a couple of days, if need be.

To Paul, this new responsibility lifted his spirits and put
a damper on the itch to fly the coop. The desire to leave and make a life for
himself, one that didn’t include crossers, was relaxed a bit due to the
renovations in his room and the girl in his bed. He couldn’t wait to tell Greg.
He had finally been promoted to caregiver.

Caregiver to a really beautiful girl.

“Paul, we’re not going to sleep in the same bed tonight are
we?” Sierra asked after everyone else had left the room and they were alone.

In truth, Paul had already thought about this, and it made
his stomach churn with anticipation. He had slept with her last night just to
keep her from dying. It was necessary and essential. But tonight, she was
basically fine. Except for the occasional shivering and sore ankle, she’d recovered
completely from her crash into the lake.

“I think we have to,” he said. “It would be too much of a
giveaway if we were raided and someone was asleep on the floor or couch. It
would be obvious we were sheltering guests, and our home would be torn apart.”

“Are you raided often?”

“We’ve had a few. They’ve all been successful though.”

“What do you mean?”

“None of our crossers were discovered.”

“How do you keep them hidden?”

“There’s a basement under the kitchen and dining room part
of the house. We have a room down there designed specifically for defectors,
with six cots and a small bathroom, plus a hidden doorway leading to a tunnel
for escape. Every time we’ve been raided, the crossers have been moved just out
of reach.”

She was looking down at her hands in deep contemplation.
Paul knew sleeping together was weighing heavy on her mind. It was going to be
harder on him than on her, guaranteed. “Look, I’ll mind my manners tonight. You
don’t have anything to worry about.” She looked up at him nervously. He changed
the subject to get her mind off it. “Tell me about how you escaped the palace.”

She relaxed a bit. “The palace physician, Dr. Roth, had been
helping me all throughout my stay at the palace, and it absolutely appalled him
to see how Reginald treated me. After being beaten so many times, I felt I
would never be able to escape, so I decided to starve myself. I became weaker
and weaker, and of course Reginald couldn’t stand to see me, the last
Montgomery, slipping out of his reach. So he ordered Dr. Roth to hook me up to
an IV and nourish my body against my will.”