Love You to Death (10 page)

“Sorry about that. I didn’t mean it,” he
whispered in my ear. “It was a bad day. When I saw that boy
touching you... I just snapped. It won’t happen again.”

I didn’t trust my voice, so I nodded. He went
back into the living room.

It won’t happen again.

Hollow words in a sentence I’d heard many
times growing up. I couldn’t count the times I heard my father tell
my mother the same thing. I swore I would never be in the same
situation. Yet here I was.

I took a deep breath and thought of the money
I was stashing in a shoe in the back of my closet. When I had
enough saved I was going to leave. Leave this house. Leave this
man. Leave this life.

* * * *

The storm gray sky hovered ominously above
me. The forecast was calling for snow. I shifted the weight of the
bags in my mittened hands as I trudged down the sidewalk. Cass
hadn’t picked me up from work. He hadn’t called either. I made a
quick decision not to wait for him. I bought what I needed to make
dinner and walked home. It was only a few blocks.

I was halfway home when the sound of tearing
plastic preceded one of the bags breaking open, spilling everything
onto the sidewalk. I groaned, setting the rest of the bags
down.

“Arden?”

I looked up. Kirk had pulled up to the curb
beside me, his beat-up car burping fumes.

“Hey, Kirk.” I put on a brave face as I
glanced around to see who might be watching. He hopped out of the
car and started scooping up a few oranges that were making a break
for the road.

“Thanks,” I said when he handed them to
me.

“You’re welcome.”

My eyes darted around again, making sure we
were alone. I knew Cass had eyes everywhere.

“Are you going to work?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m working extra shifts. I need the
cash.”

“Oh.” Didn’t we all? Cass didn’t like me
working too much. I had to be careful with my schedule.

“Are you going to the Leah’s party?” Kirk
asked, kneeling to redistribute the groceries into the rest of the
bags.

“I don’t think so.”

“Why not? Your boyfriend not into parties?”
he joked.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, gritting my
teeth.

“Oh,” Kirk flashed a shy grin. “Well, maybe
you’d like to go with me.”

I looked at him, surprised. I reached down to
grab a few bags as Kirk stood to hand the others to me. His hand
brushed over my wrist. I flinched, hissing through my teeth.

“Sorry,” he said pulling his hand back, still
holding the bags.

“It’s okay,” I said, giving him a weak smile.
I wasn’t prepared for what he did next. Kirk set the bags down and
took my hand, gently sliding off the mitten. His eyes bulged when
he pushed the cuff of my coat up over my wrist. It was black and
blue and swollen.

“Arden, what happened?”

“I fell.” I couldn’t look at him as I told
him the most used excuse for all abused people in the world. I
fell. I walked into the door. I tripped.

“Fell? Onto what, someone’s hand?” He traced
the finger shaped bruise with a feathery touch of his fingertip. I
snatched my arm away.

“It’s none of your business,” I bit out. I
hated to act like that with him, but I couldn’t afford someone
butting in right now. I would handle it on my own.

“I’m sorry. You’re right... but I... Arden
you need help.” I looked down at my feet, unable to meet Kirk’s
pitying gaze.

“I’m fine,” I said, carefully putting on my
mitten and picking up the rest of the bags.

“No you aren’t. You think we don’t notice the
bruises? Or how you almost pee your pants when that guy comes in
the store? If he isn’t your boyfriend then who is he?” He blocked
my path forcing me to look at him.

He was such a nice boy. In a different life I
could have seen us dating. Like all the other kids my age. We
might’ve gone to a movie, grabbed a pizza, or maybe even tried
midnight bowling.

“You don’t understand—” I started.

“Then help me understand,” he leaned down
until our noses were almost touching. “I want to help you.”

Why was everyone always wanting to help me? I
was getting tired of being helped. Help usually turned out to be
code for let me control you.

“Kirk, I don’t need your help. I need to get
home. Please, just leave it alone.” I pushed past him and didn’t
look back.

Cass was waiting for me when I struggled
through the front door. He was sitting in his recliner. I knew the
look on his face: pinched lips, narrowed eyes, time for me to
tiptoe.

“Hey, Cass,” I said, absently licking my
lips. “I figured you might have been stuck at work so I decided to
walk home so you wouldn’t have to worry about picking me up.” I
always needed an explanation.

He didn’t say a word. He just sat there
watching me.

“Um. I’m going to put the food away.” I edged
toward the dining room, glancing back at him. “I bought you some
ice cream, peanut butter ripple, your favorite.”

He got up slowly, never taking his eyes off
me. I made it to the kitchen, and started putting things away. He
came up behind me, pressing against me, trapping me between him and
the counter. His arms circled my waist. I stood very still, waiting
for him to make a move.

“I can hardly wait much longer,” he whispered
in my ear, his hands gliding upward over my stomach. I squeezed my
eyes shut.

We were playing house, Cass and I. In the
days following his attacks, he’d poured on the romance. Every
incident was immediately followed by flowers or chocolates or an
apology-filled Hallmark card. It was an endless cycle. I played
along trying to keep him happy while I planned my escape.

“When’s dinner?” He buried his face in my
hair, inhaling deeply before shoving away from me.

“I can have it ready in an hour.”

“I’m going to take a shower.” He winked. I
watched him walk away, relieved.

Saturday morning I woke up with Cass leering
over me. Startled, I screamed and rolled off the bed. Cass laughed,
pulling me up from the floor.

“I’ve got a great day planned for us!” he
cheered. “I made breakfast. C’mon, get up.

He made breakfast?

“I have to work,” I yawned.

“Call in sick.”

“I can’t do that. They need me. Saturday’s
are the busiest days.”

Cass’s smile faded. He shoved his hands into
the pockets of his robe, staring at me. I stared back.

“Then quit,” he said very matter-of-fact.

Oh God, an ultimatum. I couldn’t quit. I
needed the money.
I buckled.

“Fine. I’ll call in sick.”

Carl, the manager on duty, was very
sympathetic. He didn’t question my sudden illness.

“Drink plenty of fluids and get some rest,”
he said.

I wasn’t sick before the call, but I felt
like crap now.

Cass made pancakes and bacon. He was humming
as he flipped them onto a plate.

“Don’t look so sad. They’ll make it without
you for one day.”

“I know. I just hate lying to them.” I poured
myself some juice and sat down.

“But you’re so good at it.” He shook the
spatula at me.

“So what are we doing today that I couldn’t
go to work?” I asked, trying for lighthearted banter.

“If the job means more to you than I do, then
maybe you shouldn’t work at all,” he snapped, turning back to the
stove to flip more pancakes. I almost choked on my bacon.

“It doesn’t. I’m only asking because you seem
so excited.” I forced a smile.

Whistling, he turned off the stove and slid
into the seat across from me. I watched him pour syrup over his
short stack.

“Just wait and see,” he smiled.

* * * *

As the day progressed, so did the queasiness
in my stomach. I had a bad feeling about today. I couldn’t put my
finger on anything specific Cass had said or done. Actually, he was
in a great mood. But my intuition was on high alert.

We spent the afternoon visiting different
sites around the city. Our first stop was the Baltimore Museum of
Art followed by the Edgar Allen Poe Museum. I’d lived in the city
my whole life and never visited either place.

Our last destination was the aquarium. I’d
been there plenty of times on school trips and with my mom.

“Are you getting hungry?” Cass asked.

“A little.” We hadn’t eaten anything since
breakfast.

“Well, my last surprise is in a half
hour.”

“What is it?”

“It wouldn’t be a secret if I told you.” He
laughed, touching my nose playfully with the tip of his finger.
Taking my hand he led me outside. Instead of heading to the car, he
steered me in the opposite direction, down around to the other side
of the harbor.

“Tah dah!” he exclaimed.

I looked at him, unsure of what I was
supposed to be surprised about. He rolled his eyes, shaking his
head while turning me to face the water. The Spirit of Baltimore
was anchored in front of us.

“You’re ship, m’lady.”

“This is why you wanted us to dress in
layers,” I said.

“Have you ever been on a dinner cruise?” he
asked, ignoring my remark.

“No.”

“It’s a lot of fun. I think you’ll really
like it.” He was already tugging on my arm.

I was hoping I wasn’t one of those people who
got seasick. I’d never been on a boat so I had no idea. Twenty
minutes into the harbor I was relieved to find out I wasn’t
seasick. I actually liked the feel of the boat as it sliced through
the soft swells in the water.

Dinner was a surprise. The food was
excellent. I ate more than I should have, my stomach was hard and
protesting the waistband of my slacks. Several other guests looked
like they were suffering the same fate.

Cass wanted to walk around the deck. He took
my hand and led me out of the dining room. I didn’t want to go, it
was cold, but I knew better than to protest. The coastline was
dotted with lights; they sparkled against the dark night. The view
was something I wouldn’t forget. It was moments like this that made
me wish I
did
live in a fairy tale and that Cass actually
was Prince Charming. But the reality was ugly, and although he was
charming, he was definitely no prince.

We stood at the bow of the ship, huddled in
our coats.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Cass reach
into his pocket and pull out a small velvet box. He turned me
around to face him and got down on one knee. I started
hyperventilating, caught myself and pasted on—what I hoped—was a
believable look of happy surprise. I wanted to run screaming in the
other direction or jump overboard into the icy water, but instead,
I focused on my breathing.

In and out. In and out.

He gave me a serious look and opened the box.
I didn’t want to look at the ring, but I knew I had to. It was a
huge, round diamond set in yellow gold with tiny round diamonds
circling inside the band. It was so conspicuous, so Cass.

“Arden Rachel Elliott, will you marry
me?”

His movie star smile was lopsided, endearing.
Spikes of blond hair framed his handsome features. If I didn’t know
the real monster inside that beautiful face I might be tempted to
mean what I was about to say. But I was afraid of him. I was afraid
to answer any other way.

“Yes,” I whispered, letting the tears
fall.

I knew he would think they were tears of joy,
not tears of fear. He slid the ring onto my finger. It was cold and
a little snug. He kept his hold on the ring as he stood and, with
his free hand, gently pinched my chin between his thumb and
forefinger forcing me to look into his eyes.

“You won’t regret it.” He kissed me on the
mouth, gliding his tongue over my bottom lip. I noted the faint
bitter taste of cigarette before he lifted his head and said
softly, “If you ever try to leave me, I will find you. There isn’t
anywhere you can ever hide from me.”

I shuddered at the calm certainty in which he
delivered the threat. I kept my eyes careful and steady.

“Why would I ever leave you?” I smiled,
barely getting the words out. My insides were quaking. I knew he
meant it. I knew as a detective he had the resources he needed to
find me. He kissed me again, pulling me into his arms and crushing
me in a bear hug.

That night—in the safety of the bathroom—I
sat in the tub, curled into a ball. The shower sprayed over me as I
rocked back and forth, hugging my knees to my chest, silently
crying. The walls of this prison were closing in faster than I had
ever anticipated. I had to leave, now. I didn’t have near enough of
the money I’d hoped for, but I was out of time.

It was now or never.

Chapter
Ten

Cass wanted the wedding to be formal and in
the evening. He instructed me to work with his mom, Marge and
sister-in-law, Kara—who were very surprised about the
engagement—but both seemed excited for me.

I wanted to ask them so many questions. What
was wrong with Cass? Had he always been this way? I wanted to ask
them to help me escape. I wanted to beg them to hide me. Instead,
we sat at the breakfast table, in Marge’s bright white kitchen,
planning my demise.

“I love the pink organza,” Marge said,
flipping through one of the million bridal magazines Kara had
brought with her.

“That’s nice, but I think I prefer the
burgundy chiffon.” Kara pointed to a picture, sipping her tea.

“Have you decided on a reception site?” Marge
asked.

“Cass said he wants it to be at the
Celebrations at the Bay.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but the
sadness in Marge’s eyes told me I wasn’t doing a good job.

“I was hoping you’d pick the Gramercy
Mansion. I always wanted to see inside that place.” Kara
sighed.

I watched them; little bird-like Marge, with
her short gray hair, perched on the edge of her seat beside the
voluptuous Kara; her long blond hair caught in a ponytail and
trailing over her shoulder. I wondered how much they knew about
Cass.