Rose for Rose: Book Two in the Angels' Mirror Series (5 page)

Four

Portland, Oregon… August 11, 2002

“Whatcha think you doin’, Andrea?”

With a start, she dropped the gardening gloves in her hand and whirled around.

Why was he here?

Hadn’t he made it clear he didn’t want anything more to do with her? Not only her, but with their….

No.

She wouldn’t think about that right now, and she didn’t want him there, either.

Not after everything he’d said last time they spoke. Or rather… Andrea had spoken, and he’d yelled loud enough for people to hear him three blocks away.

“Arthur. You scared me!”

She looked up into his taut, emotionless face. A queasiness came over her, and she wondered if she was going to puke again.

“Yeah, so? What’s it you think you doin’? Must be som’bidy else’s. You foolin’ around on me, Andrea,” he asked slowly. “’Cause you know I ain’t can’t have no kids.”

He systematically cracked the knuckles on his left hand, then the right, his eyes on hers the entire time he spoke.

How can he even think I would…?

How on earth could he really think I’d…?

“Look, Arthur… you know I would never…”

The man’s little brown eyes widened, and he compressed his full lips as he stepped even closer and glared down at her. Even his nose seemed to flatten.

“How dare you! How dare you, after what happened with Morton! I let you into my heart again, after all you’ve done to me; I let myself trust you again, and this is what I get for thanks?”

Andrea felt her pale skin going even paler.

She carefully stepped out of the vegetable patch and onto the sidewalk before answering, trying to formulate a response.

Why did he keep bringing up his brother? Especially when they’d both told him nothing ever happened between them?

The man had been performing CPR on her because they were practicing for a play they’d been casted in, for goodness’ sake.

How was that cheating?

“I know you don’t want to believe me, Arthur, but Morton and I… there was never a Morton and…”

“Don’t you lie to me! You and hims both been lyin’ to me, sayin’ you never done nothin’ behin’ ma back, but I knows you did. I knows you did. He fin’lly a’mitted it when I sat down wit’ him las’ weeken’.” The rancor in Arthur’s eyes grew intense.

Why would Morton say she had been his… that they had? What on earth was happening?

“Let’s get somewheres quiet, Andrea. You Mamma don’ need t’ lissin in on no drama, and neither do you neighbors.”

She noticed he’d balled his fists; they were clenched, then unclenched. He looked like he wanted to sock her!

She did her best to keep to keep a calm, even voice as she replied.

“I can’t just up and…”

Hastily throwing his hands up into the air, Arthur said, “Fine, den. Meet me at Uncle Dabney’s in a hour. Think you c’ man’ge dat, Princess?”

Finally understanding that she couldn’t keep making excuses to stay away from him, she nodded. So long as she was careful, what could it hurt? Uncle Dabney almost never left home, and his house mate, Ken, was a pretty decent guy.

Surely if things got out of hand, they’d take her side, wouldn’t they? Or hadn’t Arthur told them anything about what was happening between them these days?

A queasy feeling came over her even as she said her next words. “Fine. Give me…” She wrestled for a moment with her glove so she could see the little blue watch on her arm. Two eleven.

“I can be there about… three thirty. That okay with you?”

“Yeah. And hey…” he paused. “Dis be private. I don’ want nob’dy nosin’ ‘round listenin’ to the conv’sation, so… be discreet, huh? For once?”

“Arthur? Are you home,” Andrea hesitantly called after knocking on the door a fourth time.

This house of Dabney’s, while beautiful, had always unsettled her a little.

She wasn’t sure what it was that made her feel that way… if it were all the old, musty smells or the thought of his wife dying in the living room so many years ago, she wasn’t sure.

“Hold yo horses, Andrea, and keep yo voice down, why dontcha,” Arthur called as she finally heard footsteps approach the door. Within moments, it was unlocked, and he ushered her inside quickly, rebolting the door after slamming it closed.

“Wha happen to bein’ discreet, Andrea? Can’t you do an’thin’ right?” Dressed all in black, Arthur looked like he was ready for a funeral.

From the scowl on his face, she imagined it was the funeral of an enemy he was feeling forced to attend. The thought made her giggle, now even more nervous than before.

Why did he always insist on meeting at his place instead of hers, anyway? What was the big idea? It made her do all the work in their relationship, what little of one there might be after all this was said and done.

“Whatchu laughin’ at, girl? Ain’t nothin’ funny ‘bout you lyin’ to me, sayin’ I’m yo baby daddy an all dat. An you bes’ not done tole anyone else, neither, ‘cause you done already cause me a heap o’ time in my life, behin’ dem bars, you hear me?” He stared down into her face, and she moved back a few steps.

Soon, her back was against the door, the knob boring into her tender flesh.

“Listen, Arthur,” she began hesitantly. “I know you think I had some sort of fling with your brother, but honestly… neither of us saw it that way. We were rehearsing for that play. You know, the one we were going to do at the senior center? But now, that’s all water under the bridge, and I hope you can forgive me, even if it’s for something that never happened,” she continued, tears coming to her eyes.

“And as for the baby, you know I would never-”

“Don’ be givin’ me dat bull,” he shouted, slapping her face.

The impact made her recoil even more, and her stomach revolted. Within moments, she emptied the contents of it all over the both of them, earning another slap.

Arthur grabbed her by the forearms and forcefully threw her into a chair.

“You. Stay,” he said as he grabbed some rags in one hand and unlocked the basement with the other. Vomit dripped down his silk shirt and onto his black denim jeans and Nikes.

The neat freak isn’t quite so neat now, is he
, Andrea thought even as the vomit smell was overwhelmed her.

She had to hold herself in check in order not to vomit again. Her clothes, no barrier to the rancid moisture, compounded her queasiness. She rose, intending to make it to the sink before she could get ill again, and all of a sudden, felt her hair being yanked from behind.

“I tole you sit down… but you never did lissin to me, did ya, Andrea? Well now I be mad, iffen I wasn’t befo’,” he said, grinding his teeth at her as he spun her around and headed for the basement. “So I guess I’s gotta teach you a lessin, afta all. A lessin fo’ cheatin’, fo’ lyin’, and fo’ jus’ downright dis’bed’ence,” he continued, pulling her down the stairs.

Andrea’s feet couldn’t keep up with Arthur’s speed and she stumbled her way down the stairs. Her head felt like it was on fire, and for a moment, she wondered what would happen to her. But within seconds, he was flinging her onto his bed and tying her wrists and ankles to the frame of it.

The rope had already been sitting in a coil nearby.

Carefully opening her eyes, she saw multiplied reflections of Arthur removing her shoes and then throwing the rags he’d grabbed onto her person, scrubbing furiously. “You jus’ never learnt well, did ya,” he finally said as he moved toward the dresser and began to gather up some clean clothing. “You will, though. I gu’rantee it… you learn and never make the same mistakes again,” he said, gritting his teeth again.

Once he had his things gathered, he set them down on the chair nearest the bed… and Andrea saw him at least twelve-fold in the many mirrors reflecting around them in the bright light of the bulb dangling above the bed.

“I guess you try t’ scream iffen I leaves you here like dis, so…”

He opened the bottom drawer on his dilapidated dresser and pulled out a hefty roll of duct tape, along with a box cutter. Panic settled even further into her chest as she tried not to imagine what Arthur had in mind to do to her.

It was evident he’d planned the whole thing.

Before Andrea could stop it, a scream ripped itself through her lips, and the sound frightened her.

Had she ever been so terrified in her life?

Bile rose in her throat again as Arthur dropped the tape and knife and backhanded her not once but twice, then resumed unrolling tape and slicing it off the roll.

Not wanting to watch, she closed her eyes, praying she wouldn’t drown in her own vomit. Within moments, she felt Arthur backhand her a third time.

“Open dem eyes, girl. I want you t’ see what ya brought me t’ do sos we can git t’ the truth,” he shouted. “You think you’s so smart, so clever, so beau’ful and irresisable… but you not.”

As he shouted, Andrea could feel the spray coming from his mouth and cringed. After a few more moments, he started screaming again.

“Didn’t you done hear me? Open dem eyes. Now!”

Finally forcing herself to do as he said, Andrea watched as he grinned at her, grabbed a piece of the duct tape he’d cut and placed it over her mouth. He layered four more pieces at various angles over it, then carefully untied one wrist, wrapping tape around the bed bar and her upper arm. Then he did the same on the other side.

She couldn’t even imagine how much more her arms could ache than they did at that moment.

How long is he going to keep me here
, she wondered, tears forming again at the corners of her eyes, trickling down and rolling into the soft creases of her neck.
How long before anyone reports that I’m missing… and will they even find me? I did all he asked and kept things quiet. I didn’t tell anyone we were back together, so only his family knows, and now this?

Fear rising to the surface, Andrea tried to scream one more time, in spite of the duct tape… but nothing came except for a muffled sob.

With a satisfied-looking smile, Arthur glared down at her a moment, grabbed his clothes, turned out the light, and headed upstairs again.

God, what am I going to do
, she silently screamed with her mind.
How could I get into such a mess? And will You see me through this to the other side, whatever that is? Keep my baby safe; deliver us from this evil, Father… please! Be with us… come what may.

Andrea awakened from her nightmares only to find they’d come true.

She struggled in the dim light to find a way to free her wrists and ankles from their tape and ropes. Her bladder was talking to her, telling her it was high past time to go to the restroom, and there was nobody in sight.

She strained to hear voices, and there were none.

The house was quiet, and the only sounds she could hear were from light traffic on the street before and behind the house. Occasionally, there was the riffle of a bird, but it didn’t last more than a few moments, and was gone.

Despite her parched throat and over-full bladder, Andrea continued to struggle. “Is anyone there? Can anyone hear me? I need help,” she screamed over and over, until the light dimmed even further.

How had the tape gotten loose from her mouth? Not that she cared; she was just thankful she could speak.

“God, please,” she finally prayed. “Please, God, help someone find me. Watch over me. I can’t do this… not alone. Not without Your intervention.” She tried to relax, but her muscles were sore and her limbs were tight. She did all she could to keep her bladder in check, to no avail.

“God, how could this be happening? I finally have the one thing I want in life, and it’s being stripped away from me moment by moment by the man I thought actually loved me. I know I’ve messed up, but is this really necessary? Can’t we do this another way? Can anything good come from it? You promised to work everything out for the good of those who love You, and I love You, God. What’s happening to me? Why are You allowing this?” Her whisper was furious in the waning light.

She carefully looked around her, seeing herself from all angles, the mirrors playing with shadow and light.

One mirror in particular caught her attention, and she wondered where it came from. An angel rested atop it, and somehow, she felt God had heard her prayer, even though there was no way she could explain that to anyone if they asked. It just… brought her a strange peace.

Part of it was hidden by layers of dust that coated both wood and glass. She wasn’t sure all the wood was the same variety, and she didn’t know enough about things of that nature to venture a guess.

All she knew was it transfixed her.

As long as I can see that mirror
, she thought,
I’ll know God is with me. Even though I can’t feel Him in this place… and I can’t see Him, I can believe. I can believe it
, she told herself,
because I need to
.