Over the Fence (26 page)

She paced the room, her hands clenching and unclenching at her side. I let her pace, knowing she was gathering her thoughts.

“I figured out how little he cared when I was thirteen. I got sick. Really sick. After me begging for hours, because of the intense pain, my dad took me to the emergency room, but by then it was too late. My appendix had dislodged and ruptured. It was touch and go for a while, I was told. I have a huge scar from the surgery, since they couldn’t find the appendix when they went in and had to keep cutting.” She paused, lost in her own thoughts for a minute, before speaking again. “But the worst part was when I woke up alone. I was sick and confused, and there was nobody there.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I wanted someone to be there, you know? To hug me and comfort me; tell me it was going to be okay.”

She was quiet for a moment. I struggled to stay calm. I wanted to punch something and scream at the pain and loneliness she’d endured. However, I held in my feelings so she could share hers with me. I did reach out and capture one of her hands with mine, needing to feel that connection between us. Finally she spoke.

“I found out he told everyone at the hospital he had come home and found me ill, but the truth was he’d been there all day. He didn’t want to be bothered.” She looked at me with shame-filled eyes. “I was too embarrassed to tell anyone any different.”

“Why were
you
embarrassed?”

“Because then everyone would know how I was unloved by my own family. How unworthy I was for my father to properly care for me. He didn’t even care enough to come and see me the entire time I was in the hospital, except once to drop off a few personal things, and the day he picked me up to take me home.” She exhaled. “And I covered the whole time. I’d tell people they had missed him, or he was working a double shift. I didn’t want anyone to know how alone I was in the world.”

“Kourtney,” I whispered, outraged. Everyone in her life had failed to help keep her safe and happy. I was sad for the little girl who had been so alone and in need of proper care—and love.

“The saddest part was I hated going home. I was happier in the hospital despite the tubes and IV’s. The nurses were nice and nobody bothered me. I could read and sleep and just . . . be.” She played with the hem of her shirt. “But I did go home, and for the first time I realized things would never change—I would
never
be enough.”

I shut my eyes at the prevalent pain in her voice. How did someone ever move past so much abuse and neglect?

“Things never got better? Even after they almost lost you?” I shuddered at the thought.

“No. They continued to ignore me and I stopped hoping they would ever love me.” She paused. “They, ah, they bought me a welcome home gift, though.”

“Oh?”

“They paid for a membership to Weight Watchers for me. They were convinced if I wasn’t so fat my appendix would have been fine and I wouldn’t have caused so much trouble. It was a great homecoming.”

She wouldn’t have caused so much trouble.

Because of their neglect she had almost died, and they made it her fault. At this exact moment, I wished I had Andy back under my fists. He wouldn’t have left walking.

I sucked in a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. My hands were clenched so tight I knew my knuckles were white, and I made the effort to relax them. “Your father is a heartless, spineless bastard. And your brother . . .” I dropped my voice. “I want to find him and beat the shit out of him.” I stared at her, confused. “I don’t understand why. You should have been thought of as a gift. Something precious.” I thought of my sister and how I had always adored her. “You should have been loved, not hurt.”

“Well, I wasn’t. Andy told me once his life was great until I showed up. It was my fault our mom died—if I hadn’t been sick again, she wouldn’t have left the house. And my father told me more than once I was the greatest mistake he ever made. Both of them told me all the time I ruined their lives, and I owed them.” She shrugged. “They still think I do. Hence Andy’s last visit.”

“You don’t.” I stepped forward, pulling her into my arms. “You never did, Kourtney. You were a child. Your mom was killed in an accident—it wasn’t your fault. And your father,
fuck
, he was the adult. He should have protected you.”

“They didn’t love me. They still don’t.” Her lips began to tremble. “I was never enough, Nathan. I’ve never been enough for anyone. No matter what I did, they never tried to let me be enough.”

“You’re enough for me. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted,” I insisted, looking into her pain-filled eyes.

The tears that had been threatening began to run down her cheeks. “I’m not worthy of you, Nathan,” she choked out. Her voice shook with the effort it took to speak.

“
You are
.”

Her head shook from side to side. “I’ve never known what it feels like to be . . .
that
. I’ve been alone my whole life.”

“I’ll teach you. You’re not alone anymore; I’m not going anywhere.”

A large gasping noise escaped her throat and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wild in panic. I tugged her hand away, my heart breaking at the sight of her trembling and vulnerable. “Let me in, Kourtney. Show me your pain.” I cupped her cheek. “Let me look after you tonight.”

I watched as she broke in front of me, painful sobs erupting from her chest. I tugged her to the sofa and brought her down beside me, cradling her in my arms as she wept. I hated hearing her sobs, but I knew she had to cry. She needed to let out the pain those bastards had inflicted on her for so many years.

Then I could prove to her she was worthy of being loved.

With one last, shuddering sigh, Kourtney moved away.

I used my thumbs to remove some of the wetness on her cheeks, smiling in comfort when she opened her pain-clouded eyes. “Hey.”

“I’m gonna go . . .” Her voice trailed off as she indicated the hall.

“I’ll be here when you get back.”

She stood up and walked to the door. Pausing, she turned back and looked at me; her expression dejected. “I wouldn’t blame you if you weren’t,” she whispered and walked down the hall, shoulders bent.

I stared after her, worried, taking in her defeated stance. She was so sure I’d walk away, because she wasn’t worth the effort to stay. There was only one thing that would prove her wrong, and that was time. I had plenty of that—a lifetime full of it—for her. I went into the kitchen, knowing she had coffee in the thermal jug, and poured us both a mug, adding cream. I moved back to the sofa, sipping at the warm beverage while I waited for her to return. I knew she needed a private moment to gather herself.

When she appeared, her eyes were dry, her hair brushed back into a ponytail, and she seemed calmer. I handed her the mug and we sat, listening to the rhythmic pattern of the rain outside.

“I’m sorry, Nathan.”

I paused, the mug partway to my lips. “For what?”

“For crying . . . yet again. It seems that is all I have done since, well, since I came home. You must be quite tired of it.”

“There’s been a lot to deal with.”

“I suppose. But I’m not usually that weak.”

“You are not weak, Kourtney. My God, you can’t see how amazing you are, can you?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

I stood up, pacing to relieve some of my tension and collect my thoughts. I could feel Kourtney watching me, her gaze wary. I sat down beside her, gathering her hands in mine.

“Kourtney,” I began, keeping my voice soft. “You don’t see yourself the way I do. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met. Your childhood was horrendous, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t heard the whole story yet. All you’ve known is pain and rejection. You could be the most bitter, angry person, but you’re not.” I tightened my grip on her hands. “You are such a giving, loving . . .
gentle
woman. You’ve overcome so much, baby.”

She gazed at me in complete silence.

I met her gaze and continued. “You were abused, Kourtney. All your life.”

“Not physically,” she corrected in a whisper.

I shrugged. “Maybe not by your father, but I consider what your brother did to you physically abusive. He left marks on you. His pranks went way beyond sibling fun. But emotionally, they’re both guilty. And your father . . .” I trailed off with a huff of anger. “His job as a parent was to protect and love you. He failed miserably at both. He failed
you,
Kourtney. Not the other way around.” I cupped her cheek, hating the stark paleness of her skin. “You cry as much as you need to. It’s time you let it out. It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s a sign you’ve tried to be strong, alone, for too long.”

“I don’t want to scare you away.”

“You can’t. Ever. I told you I’m not going anywhere. You’re not alone anymore. If you let me, you’ll never be alone again.”

“I don’t know how to do this, Nathan—I have no experience. I’ve never had someone care in the past,” she spoke; nervousness evident. “I don’t know how to be a partner. What if . . .”

“What if what?” I prompted.

“What if I’m so screwed up I can’t be what you need?”

I leaned forward and kissed her. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. I’m amazed how giving and loving you are; how selfless you are to those you don’t even know. It’s so instinctive with you. You’re
exactly
what I need.” I rubbed tender circles on her cheeks. “Kourtney, I wish your mind was like a computer and I could erase all the hateful things they said and did to you. That I could wipe away all the painful memories you carry.” I shrugged in resignation. “But I can’t. All I can do is try to overwrite them. Replace them with new ones. If you’ll let me.” I hesitated, holding my breath. “Will you let me?”

“I want to try.”

“I know you’re scared. This is new for me, as well. But I want this. I want you.” I swallowed; my throat dry. “Do you feel the same way?”

I waited, the silent seconds dragging by.

Her quiet “yes,” was the sweetest word I’d ever heard spoken.

I kissed her again. “Then we’ll do it together.”

Her beautiful eyes were filled with cautious wonder. “Together,” she breathed, as if trying out the word.

I cradled her face in my hands, staring deep into her eyes. I wanted her to know I meant it. Every word. “Together,” I promised.

“Chefgirl?”

Kourtney looked up from my knee. We had resumed our earlier positions on her sofa, content to listen to the rain as I stroked her hair and let her relax and calm herself.

“I don’t want to upset you again, but can I ask you a few questions?”

She nodded, looking wary.

“Here’s an easy one—how old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. You?”

“Thirty.”

“Ah. An older man.”

I leered at her. “Yep. Look out, little girl. I plan on having my wicked way with you.”

She giggled. I ran my hand along her brow, my voice turning serious.

“You’re pretty young to already be doing what you do, aren’t you?”

She pursed her lips before answering me.

“Well, first off, my career choice doesn’t take as long to accomplish as a practicing medical doctor—there’s no residency to go through or as many years at school. As I told you earlier, I didn’t have many friends or much of a life outside of school. But I loved learning, and I was pretty young when I decided what I wanted to do with my life. I always thought I wanted to be a doctor, so I volunteered in the summer at the hospital when I was a teenager. I thought it would be a great learning experience,” she explained with a small grimace.

“Not for you?”

She shook her head. “I realized pretty fast the intensity of an active hospital, and dealing with the patients wasn’t right for me. But I still wanted to do something medical—something that made a difference. One day I got sent to deliver a sample to the lab and I was instructed to wait for it. The technician was an older lady and nice. She saw I was interested and let me watch. I was hooked. Afterward, I immediately went to the library and started researching things and knew what I wanted was to work behind the scenes. Help discover something to ease people’s suffering.”

She was quiet again. I let her gather her thoughts, stroking her hair. She looked up at me with hesitant eyes. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “I like it when you do that.”