Mark laughed. “I’m not sure I want to know, but tell me anyway.”
“I don’t get how a little girl like Rachel is supposed to defend herself against an attacker,” James said.
“Little girl?” Rachel said. “I thought you said you didn’t want to offend me.”
“Well, you’re what? Five feet tall and 90 pounds?”
“You’re way off in your guessing skills,” Rachel said.
James ignored her remarks. “So what if a guy was three times as big as you?” he asked, turning to face her. “How could you defend yourself?”
“If a man was triple my size, I’m inclined to think he couldn’t run faster than me.”
“I don’t think those self-defense classes are any good. They teach a girl to fight back when there’s no way she can win. She’ll get herself hurt even more.”
“Oh, really?” Rachel smirked and pointed to the grass between the parking lot and the street. “Why don’t we go over there and I’ll show you how it works.”
“Oh no. There’s no way I’m going to fight you.”
“Why not?”
“I’m like a hundred and eighty pounds heavier and twelve inches taller than you. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Again, a massive exaggeration. But don’t worry, you won’t hurt me. If you accidentally do, I won’t hold it against you.”
“I’ll hold it against him,” Mark said.
“Mark won’t hold it against you, either,” Rachel said.
“It doesn’t seem right,” James said. “I’d feel bad if I hurt you.”
“Then let’s make it interesting,” Rachel said, grinning. “Say, a hundred dollars.”
His eyes widened. “A bet?”
“Sure.”
“A hundred dollars is a lot of money.”
“That’s what you get if you win.”
“And what do you get?”
“An apology.” She smiled before adding, “And the knowledge of your utter humiliation because you were taken down by a ‘little girl.’”
James extended his hand and they shook on it. “I sure could use a hundred dollars,” he said. He strolled onto the grass.
“Rachel,” Mark said, “this is crazy.”
“No, he’s crazy, and he needs to learn,” she said. She moved onto the grass until she stood about five feet in front of James. She spread her feet into a comfortable stance and bent her knees to center herself in preparation for his attack.
“Okay,” James said. “What should I do?”
“Attack me.”
“Man, I wish more women would say that to me.”
“James,” Mark warned.
James looked at Mark. “Sorry, but she’s the one who said it.” He turned back to Rachel. “How do I attack you?”
“Do you think if a man is going to attack a woman in an alley at night, he’s going to ask her how to do it first?”
He laughed. “I guess it does sound a little stupid.”
“Hurry up,” Mark said. “I don’t want a cop to drive by. The last thing we need is to get arrested because of a bet.”
James stared at Rachel for a moment. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of pressure with you and Mark staring at me. I don’t think I can do it.”
Rachel shrugged. “Your call,” she said. She turned around and started walking toward Mark, knowing James was bluffing.
His footsteps closed in behind her, as she expected. As soon as he grabbed her shoulder, she reached around and locked his arm up with hers. She tightened her grip and turned sideways toward him. Her knee jerked up and landed in his stomach, but she restrained the impact so as not to hurt him too much.
Rachel loosened her grip on his arm, and he doubled over. She twisted his arm up and behind his back, forcing him to stand up straight. She swept her foot in front of his legs and pushed him facedown to the ground. James landed hard and groaned.
She crouched beside him and put her knee into the small of his back, using her weight to hold him down. “And just like that, you’re on the ground and I’m not even out of breath.”
James gasped for air between his words. “Let me up.”
Rachel ignored him. “The element of surprise was pretty good,” she said, “but do you want to know what your biggest mistake was?”
“What?”
She smiled. “You called me a little girl. Now apologize.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! Can I get up now?”
She got to her feet and joined a wide-eyed Mark at his truck. James stood up, dusted himself off, and walked toward them. When he passed by, he pointed at Mark. “Don’t you even think about telling anyone about this,” he said.
Mark laughed as soon as James left. “That was great.”
“He had to learn somehow he shouldn’t underestimate all of us little girls.”
Mark looked at her in amazement. “I guess I always knew you could do that, but it’s still strange seeing it.” He paused and his stare became inquisitive. “You could beat me up, couldn’t you?”
She laughed. “I wouldn’t even try.”
“What if we got in an argument? You could do some damage.”
“Don’t worry. I only use my powers for good.”
“What a relief.”
“Besides, it’s not like I’m stronger than you, or even James, for that matter. I just know how to use what strength I have to defeat my opponent.”
“That salvages some of my ego. When did you learn to do what you did to James?”
“I started going to a gym after my parents died. It was good for me to take my frustrations out on a punching bag or by lifting weights and sparring with others.” She grabbed Mark’s hand. “The strangest thing happened to me today. Some misguided flower delivery man delivered roses to our house by mistake. We have some girl’s flowers in our kitchen.”
Mark smiled. “That poor girl. I bet she would have liked getting them.”
“Probably. They’re beautiful.”
“I suppose you’ll have to take good care of them for her.”
“I will. No one has ever given me flowers before.” Rachel didn’t know why she spoke the words, but couldn’t stop them from leaving her mouth.
“Ever?” Mark asked.
“Never.”
“If I had known that, I would have made sure you had them every night since the day we met. It’s shameful you had to wait so long to get flowers.”
Rachel shrugged. “But it makes getting them for the first time that much better.” She let go of his hand, took a few steps forward, and gazed up at the sky. “It’s an incredible night. I think I can see every star.”
Mark stepped up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Why don’t we skip the movie tonight?”
She twisted her head and frowned. “I was looking forward to seeing this one.”
“We can see it another time.”
“Every time we make plans, we never end up doing what we say we’re going to do,” Rachel said with a laugh. “What do you propose we do instead of seeing a movie?”
“Come here.” He led her back onto the lush grass behind the small parking lot and pulled her down with him. She sat in between his legs and relaxed against him. He waved his hand at the sky. “I say we sit here and watch this movie,” he said.
“What kind of movie is that?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s a chick flick.”
“Then this must be the part of the movie where you identify all the constellations,” she said.
He paused. “I think that happens in the sequel.”
She laughed. “What if I don’t like the movie?”
“Oh, but ma’am, satisfaction is guaranteed in this theater.”
“And what if I’m not satisfied?” she asked.
“Well, then I’d have to find a way to make it up to you. Like maybe a candlelight dinner or a midnight stroll through the park.” He brushed her hair back and kissed her face, lingering at the top of her neck. “Or maybe
I’ll pick you up some Saturday morning and we can take a little road trip, find a hideaway for the weekend.”
She bit her bottom lip and tried to ignore the sensations he created with both his mouth and his words. “Hmm, those all sound great, but there’s one problem. I like this movie.”
“That’s okay. We can still do all those other things.”
“Promise?” Rachel asked.
“I promise,” Mark whispered.
Rachel smiled. Everything he said sounded so perfect that tonight, just for tonight, she would pretend all of it could happen for them. Later, when she sat alone with her paranoia and her gun on her back porch, she could return to the reality that they would not be together for much longer. Rachel closed her eyes and tuned out her thoughts, imagining a world where she could stay with him forever.
Chapter Fifteen
Spending an hour sitting in Mark’s arms behind the bookstore had been therapeutic, despite the weather cutting their time short. Interrupted by the cracking of thunder, Rachel bowed out of going somewhere else and Mark drove her home. The calming smell of rain followed them on the short drive to her house. Sparks of lightning outlined dark clouds, confirming the radio’s warnings of thunderstorms arriving soon in their county.
In her driveway, Mark brought up the subject of dinner Sunday night at Greg’s house. Rachel said she would go, but only because she couldn’t think of a good excuse to get out of the commitment.
She wanted to have a normal life, to do the meet-the-family things that came with a relationship, however, with dinner would come the dreaded questions. Even though asked with routine curiosity, the questions would seem threatening, suspicious, angry. Most questions would elicit a reluctant lie, something Rachel did only when necessary.
Rachel thought Mark sensed her hesitation regarding the invitation to dinner. To avoid raising too many suspicions, she widened her smile and did her best to convince him that dinner with his family would be enjoyable. Sunday was still several days away. By then, she would find an excuse not to go.
After kissing him goodnight, she entered her house and tossed her keys on the couch on her way to the kitchen. Rain tapped out a beat on the roof that only nature could compose, and the sound comforted Rachel. She poured a tall glass of skim milk and put the carton back in the refrigerator. She turned around and faced the table, letting the cool liquid refreshed her throat. The sight of the roses drew her to the table. She reached out to touch one of the silky red petals.
Creak.
Rachel’s head snapped around and she froze, her ears alert, unsure if she had heard the noise. Her deliberate breathing echoed in her ears, and she crept toward the living room, toward the sound. When she reached the doorway of the kitchen, thunder rattled the windows, and she jumped back. She stood still and waited for another sound, but the house remained quiet.
Relief forced her lips into a sheepish grin. Either she was hearing things or it was a case of an old house settling. She put a hand on her chest and closed her eyes, coaching her breathing to try and control the impending panic attack. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In—
Creak.
Her eyes flew open and her breathing sharpened. She squeezed the glass and the cold milk inside chilled her hand. She stared into the living room with large eyes.
They’re here.
The thought reverberated through her mind like a pinball unable to flee through the escape hatch. Her breathing quickened, becoming a pant. Her eyes shifted to the left. The hallway leading to her bedroom beckoned her, and her mind zeroed in on the gun in her bedside table. She had to move. Now.
Rachel released the glass and bolted for the door, ignoring the shatter behind her. Rounding the corner, she dashed into her bedroom and slammed the door shut. She opened her bedside table drawer, pulled her gun out, and slid over her bed. She crouched against the wall in a position where she could see the door.
She drew her knees up and held the gun close to her chest. She stared at the doorknob and waited for it to turn. The light from her floor lamp reflected off the cheap gold-colored knob and mesmerized her. At any second, the doorknob would rotate and they would enter the room.
“Go away.” She meant to yell, but the words barely left her throat between her frantic gulps for air. Her head bobbed with each gasp and she tried to slow her breathing, to no avail. Her fingertips numbed, and her grip on the gun loosened.
Leave me alone.
She wished someone would lift the boulder off her chest, but no one came to help. Her tongue thickened and the sound of her breathing melted with the background drumming of rain. Throat tight, she let the darkness take over.
Chapter Sixteen
Rachel opened her eyes and acquainted herself with her surroundings. Slumped down on the floor of her bedroom, the gun had tumbled out of her hand and now rested below her fingers.
She sat up and tried to clear her mind. According to her watch, she had been out for over an hour. Danielle had not returned home yet. If she had, she would have woke Rachel and launched into a stern lecture on passing out with a loaded weapon, one that Rachel admitted she needed.
She turned on the safety and laid the gun down on her bed. She used the edge of the bed to pull herself to her feet. Her mind drifted from the anxiety attack and focused on the dream that found her while the attack rendered her unconscious.
Another dream, the same as all the others. Vivid, realistic details. The leaves various shades of green, the fresh smell of tree bark and rain. Walking through the woods in the black evening gown. The bird fluttering down to her hand, telling her what to do. The piano playing a song she used to know. Moving across the forest floor toward the door. The door opening.
Rachel went into the bathroom, where she washed her face and brushed her teeth. She had overreacted at a small sound. She couldn’t afford to have a panic attack every time the house settled, which was what the sound had been. If she had heard someone else in the house, if she had heard them, they would have already made their presence known.
She put her toothbrush away, and caught her reflection in the mirror. Pictures from the past flashed in front of her eyes, blurring with the weary face of the girl in front of her, a girl she did not recognize. Dark circles outlined eyes that were absent of strength, while lines of surrender encompassed her downturned mouth.
A shadow stood behind her. Ghostly hands landed on her shoulders and crawled down her arms with determination. A seductive voice whispered in her mind, reminding her of who she was, promising her the world, and enticing her to return to where she belonged.
Rachel turned away from the mirror and moved into her bedroom. The dream drained her of all strength, and she tried to convince herself she could still handle the stress it caused. She longed for one night of uninterrupted sleep with no nightmares. No bird, no door, no damn piano.
Unable to hear rain outside, she decided she needed fresh air. She picked up the gun from her bed, ready to begin her nightly ritual.
Her face hardened at the sight of the gun. She detested everything it reminded her of, everything it represented. She didn’t want to sit outside in the backyard anymore and ponder the night away with the gun acting as her sole source of sanity.
She returned the gun to her bedside table and left her room. In the kitchen, she cleaned up the forgotten broken glass and used a sponge to mop up the milk. All evidence of her panic attack erased, she opened the refrigerator door in hopes of something to eat. A half empty carton of skim milk, a tub of butter, a bottle of ketchup, and three cheese slices stared back at her.
She shut the door. Sleep was out of the question and there was nothing to eat. She desired Danielle’s company and conversation to take her into the early morning hours, but it could be several hours before she waltzed through the front door.
Rachel sat at the kitchen table and stared at the roses. If only she was strong like Danielle who survived the unthinkable, yet still had the courage to go out into the world and let go of the past. R
achel was unable to forget the things haunting her.
In some respects, she was getting better because she had let someone into her life for the first time in three years. Any change in her, no matter how small, was only because of Mark. With Mark, she had no past. There were no panic attacks, no fading nightmares. With Mark, life was bearable, livable, wonderful. With Mark...
A voice in the back of Rachel’s head nagged, telling her what to do.
Unwilling to put up a fight with her smarter side, she withdrew a pad of paper and pen from the kitchen drawer. She scribbled a quick note to Danielle and threw it on the table. She grabbed her keys from the couch, set the alarm, and made sure each of the deadbolts were secure.
Chapter Seventeen
Concern flashed across Mark’s face when he opened the front door and saw Rachel standing on his front porch. “Is everything okay?”
Rachel hesitated and took in his image. He was barefoot and dressed in a pair of navy pajama bottoms. She let out a nervous laugh. “I just realized how stupid this is. I’m sorry I woke you.” She turned to leave.
“Wait,” he said, and he grabbed her hand.
She bit her bottom lip and faced him.
“You didn’t wake me. Come on in.”
Rachel followed him down the hall into the living room, and inhaled the familiar scent of citrus multi-purpose cleaners. As usual, his house was spotless. Two bookshelves held books lined up and categorized by author. The glass coffee table was free of fingerprints, and there was not a hint of dust on any surface. Chaos had no place in his world, and his perfect, organized life had no room for her.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, sitting on the couch.
She sank into the couch cushions and crossed her arms. “Nothing’s wrong. I couldn’t sleep.” She laughed at herself. “I’m not quite sure why I’m here.”
“It’s okay. I was still awake, paying bills. That’s enough to keep anyone up at night, sweating profusely, unable to stop shaking in terror.”
She laughed again, and tucked some stray stands of hair behind her ear.