Page 10 of Save You

Sadie doesn’t say anything, just looks kindly at me and nods. My heart begins to feel warm again, and I bob my head back right before they leave me for the night. This must be what family feels like, even if they aren’t mine.

The following morning, I’m woken up by the sound of whispering outside my door. I say whispering, but it’s more like whisper shouting; the type that sounds like an argument going on between siblings. Not that I would know, being an only child, but I remember some of the girls at school with their sisters. The disorientation of everything slides away quickly, and once I’ve made my peace with where I am and why I’m here, I move up onto my elbows and wipe the sleep from my eyes.

“Come in!” my voice crackles toward the door, trying to run my fingers through my hair so it doesn’t look like an unwieldy mess. The whispering stops almost straight away, and I wait for a few moments before someone has the courage to either answer or open the door.

“Mornin’, darlin’!” Tom says in the same cheery tone from when I first met him, “are you decent?” I giggle at his ridiculous question but love the fact that’s he’s actually asked. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.

“I wouldn’t have said to come in, otherwise,” I laugh when he opens the door with a sheepish grin and a rosy tint across his cheeks. “Are you actually blushing, Tom?”

“Of course not, it’s just a little warm, that’s all,” he says with that mischievous grin that makes me want to bite my lip to stifle my attraction to him. “Would you like some breakfast?”

My stomach rumbles angrily at the mention of food. I can’t remember the last time I ate properly, and I now have two mouths to feed. My rather unsubtle belly has him grinning and pointing at it.

“Someone obviously wants something to eat.”

Instinctively, I wrap my arms around my bump to cover it up, knowing that a single pregnant woman is not the sort of thing people easily accept. Even if I put my wedding rings on, there’s bound to be gossip if I am living in a Bed and Breakfast with another man. Tom looks at me as though he has personal access to my thoughts and fears, then turns around to close the door. I sit up against the headboard and bring my knees up to my chest, bracing myself for what he’s about to say to me.

You need to leave.

This is a family business.

I have a young, impressionable sister.

I have lovers.

“It’s ok, Tom,” I whisper as I pick at the ribbon on his mother’s long and very modest nightdress. It’s old-fashioned and discolored, but I like it because it covers my entire body. No one can see my baby growing; no one can see my scars. I imagine the previous owner was a loving mother who was reputable, honest, and good. She’d probably be rolling in her grave if she could see her nightgown being worn by a woman who has fled from her husband, especially with his unborn child growing inside of her. A woman now sitting in her very bed and talking with her handsome, single son.

“I understand completely. I’ll get changed and leave; you don’t need any of this.”

“And what exactly is this?” He sits on the edge of the bed before lying casually across it, propping his head up onto his fist as he leans down onto his elbow. In another life, we could have been friends, divulging all our secrets without any of the shame attached to it. “What are you running from? Your husband, I’ll bet.”

“Him, and my life, I guess.”

He watches me with his full attention on what I have to say. Something else that’s new to me. Back in the fold of Mayfield, women like me are expected to be seen and not heard. They should never speak their own opinions and they definitely should not speak against their husband.

“I can’t go back…ever. He would have me give birth and then kill me…or worse.”

Whatever happened to Lucy Thompson would pale into insignificance if Carl got me back in his clutches.

“Sounds like a scary guy. Is he the one who hurt you?” I nod and I see a tightness spread across his usually carefree face.

“I’m not giving you my sob story, Tom,” I say with a sigh, “I left the moment I found out I was pregnant. I left for whoever is growing inside of me.”

“And why is that?”

“Because…” I inhale a large gulp of air before letting it slowly flow back out through my mouth, calming myself before I divulge any more ugliness to him. “Because the first thing they would do to him or her would be to give them one of these.”

I pull back my sleeve to reveal the small black leaf that would have been tattooed onto my wrist when I was a newborn. A symbol to say you belong, that you are owned. I can’t imagine how any mother would be able to bear the screaming from their baby when they do it, though mine probably had a smile upon her face.

Tom takes my wrist after silently seeking my permission with his eyes, then studies it with a furrowed brow. He rubs his thumb across it as though it still hurts me, which I guess it does in a way. I heard about one boy in high school rebelling and scratching out the feather tattoo that boys get, with a compass point. When it was discovered, they simply did another one on his opposite wrist, but slightly larger, and with thicker lines. He was warned that if he did it again, they would do another two somewhere else, somewhere not so nice. He chose not to find out where that would have been.

“Then, if it is a boy, he would have been brought up to be a mini version of his father - raping girls, abusing women, and those he considers beneath him, which is pretty much everyone. If it is a girl, she would end up sharing the same fate as me.”

I never got a proper test done for fear it would get back to Carl, but I knew when I was over a week late that I was pregnant. I felt flutters of movement early on, together with morning sickness and tender, heavy breasts. My heart crumbled, and my head hurt from indecision, for I knew there wouldn’t be a thing to stop any of what I’ve described from happening to my child. I would be powerless. But while it was living inside of me, there was something I could do. I could run.

“Is that what he did to you, Rosalie?” Tom sits up again and studies me more closely, with pain etched across his handsome features. At that moment, I decide that his attractiveness isn’t just because he is physically pleasing to look at; it’s the love and care he’s already shown me in the short time we’ve known each other. Carl could never be as attractive as Tom is to me right now, not in a million years.

“Did he rape you?”

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