A Thousand Lies (19 page)

Sam tugged her ponytail. “Regards? Regards? Where did you learn big words like that?”

Linny waved a hand in the air in a gesture of dismissal. “Queen Belinda knows stuff, that’s where. So I am ready to leave anytime you are.”

Delle glanced down at her feet and the sleeveless yellow shift she was wearing. It had an empire waist and a scoop neckline, which was comfortable for a Louisiana summer, but not exactly dress-up clothes. She had no choice as to shoes. It was flip-flops or barefoot. She still couldn’t stand pressure on the healing burns.

“I don’t have another dress to wear that looks any better than this one and these flip-flops are all the shoes I can tolerate.”

Sam grinned. “We’re going to the Crab Shack, Mama, not Delmonico’s. Besides, you’ll still be the prettiest woman in the place, except, of course, for the queen here. Nobody outshines Queen Belinda.”

Linny threw her arms around Brendan’s leg. “I’ll bring you beignets.”

Brendan tweaked her nose. “Thank you, pretty girl.” He gave her ponytail a quick tug.

“We’ll take care of them, Bren,” Chance said. “Tell Julie we’re thinking of her.”

“I will,” he said, then they were gone.

It had been so long since he’d been in the apartment alone that it felt too big and too quiet, but getting to Julie was uppermost in his mind as he headed to the bathroom to finish shaving.

****

Julie was drifting in and out of sleep when she heard a slight tap at the door. Without being able to see, all she could do was call out.

“Hello?”

Jack heard her before he saw her, and then he stopped mid-step, horrified by her appearance.

Julie was beginning to get nervous. “Hello? Hello? Who’s there?”

When he realized his silence was frightening her, he quickly spoke up.

“Hey, sugar, it’s me, Jack. Is it okay if I come in?”

“Jack! Yes, come in!”

He took the hand she held out and lifted it to his lips, struggling with the urge not to weep.

“Julie, honey, I’m so sorry this happened. I feel so guilty that I didn’t know you were being threatened.”

“That’s my fault. I never said anything about it to you because I was never actually threatened. He was just creepy. I had no way of knowing this would happen, either.”

He blinked back tears, doing everything he could to keep from sounding as devastated as he felt. “So, how do you feel, honey?”

Her shoulders slumped. “Pretty much like I look, I think.”

“I’ll be honest. I am guessing you hurt like hell, but at the same time, you also look like this should heal just fine.”

Julie suddenly tightened her grip. “Really?”

He frowned. “Well yes, why would you be so surprised? I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

“My mother mentioned plastic surgeons and—”

“She can use one if she wants, but you aren’t gonna need that,” he muttered. “I had a friend who looked far worse than you do from wrecking on his Harley, and he healed up. He wasn’t wearing a helmet or leather, and after rolling across a good hundred feet of concrete, he looked like he’d been peeled.”

Julie suddenly shivered, imagining what that man must have

suffered.

“Thank you for that, and thank you for coming,” she said.

Jack patted her hand. “You’re welcome, and of course I would come. I wanted to see you before I left town.”

“You’re leaving New Orleans? Is it because of the fight you and Daddy had? What did he do?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “The past is the past and I supposed it’s time I retired, anyway. I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“It does matter. You’re like family to me,” Julie said, trying not to cry.

“So, family stays in touch, right? I know how to email. You taught me, remember?”

“I also remember what a cussing fit you had until you figure it out. You’re right. We’ll email, but I’m still so sorry about Daddy.”

Jack was in tears. He could hardly bear to look at her and what she’d endured, and yet she felt the need to apologize for her father’s behavior.

“Nothing matters about this whole fucking mess but that you’re still here with us. Understand?”

Now
that
sounded like the Jack she knew and loved. “Understood.”

“Good, so be on the lookout for an email from me as soon as I get settled.”

“Where are you going to go?” she asked.

“Inland. Anywhere a hurricane can’t go… maybe Montana or Idaho. I always wanted to be a cowboy.”

She tugged on his hand. “Hey, Jack, I want to tell you something.”

“Yeah?”

“Remember those Karate moves you taught me when I was in high school?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I used them the night I was abducted and almost got away.”

Jack’s vision blurred all over again as he gave her hand a quick squeeze. He had to get out before he lost his composure. “That’s my girl! Good for you, honey! Listen, I’ve been here long enough. You rest, heal, and I’ll be in touch.”

“I will. I love you,” she added.

“I love you, too, kiddo.”

She listened to the sound of his footsteps moving away from the bed and then out of the room. She felt sad, but at the same time accepting. Sooner or later, everything changed.

****

Portia March was nearly finished with her breakfast when her son and daughter-in-law arrived to take her to church. Or so she thought. Instead of apologizing for their early arrival, they informed her of her granddaughter’s kidnapping. Her first comment was that they skip church and go see her. That’s when she learned Julie had barred her parents from her hospital room. After that, she was so furious she could hardly think.

Grayson knew his mother was angry. He knew when her nostrils flared and her chin came up there would be hell to pay, and he was right. The tone of her voice was as cold as the look in her eyes.

“What do you mean, you are not permitted?”

Grayson tried to pass it off as something of no concern. “She got upset with us last night. She’s under serious stress, as you can imagine, and we didn’t handle it well.”

Portia slapped her hands on the table so hard the crystal juice glasses rattled in place. She glared first at Grayson, then at Lana.

“Under stress? She was almost murdered! You are a fool for not recognizing the traumatic circumstances. God gave you one perfect child with a beautiful heart, so whatever has happened has to be your fault, not hers.”

Lana frowned. She was just afraid enough of her mother-in-law not to talk back, but she didn’t like the scolding.

“Well, Mother March, you weren’t there and we were,” she said primly.

Portia ignored her, mostly because she hated being called Mother March. It was a ridiculous title from a prissy-ass female who still acted as if she was in her debutante days, and she focused her attention on her son.

“Grayson, what did you do to cause this mess?”

He met her gaze without wavering. “I did everything wrong and I’m the first to admit it, okay? Chalk it up to panic over finding out Juliette had been kidnapped, and my disapproval of her boyfriend’s family.”

Lana interjected. “I understand Grayson’s disapproval of the boy. I mean, he’s a Poe, and we all know what kind of a man his father is.”

Portia arched an eyebrow. “A man kidnapped her. You don’t like her boyfriend’s family. I fail to see what one has to do with the other. And while you’re discussing lineage, you both might be interested to know that’s exactly what my mother said about Johnson March when we began to keep company. There hadn’t been an honest generation in the March family before him, so none of you should be pointing fingers. The silver spoon Johnson was born with was probably a fake, and the only reason our family has finally garnered respect is because the people who knew the truth are all dead and long since gone.”

“I said as much to Lana last night,” Grayson said.

Portia frowned. “Then if you are that cognizant of your humble beginnings, how do you justify judging someone else by the accident of their birth?”

“I already said I made a mistake. I already told her I was sorry,” Grayson snapped.

His mother glared. “Then what got you banned from her room?”

Grayson pointed at his wife. “Lana began talking about plastic surgery and needing to fix Julie’s face.”

Lana rolled her eyes. “And Grayson told her it didn’t matter what had happened to her, and that we’d put it all behind us.”

Portia had heard enough. “Oh dear God! Imbeciles! Both of you! Neither of you acknowledged what she endured, then add insult to injury by trying to whitewash it? No wonder she was upset. Grayson, you will take me to the hospital after church. I want to see my girl.”

“But I told you, I’m not allowed in.”

“That does not pertain to me,” Portia said. “You can stand out in the hall for all I care until I’m ready to leave. Is that understood?”

“Yes, ma’am. Oh, and Mother…”

“Yes?”

“Happy birthday.”

She rolled her eyes. “Unbelievable.”

There wasn’t anything happy about this day.

****

Julie began to feel jittery, even panicked, as the morning wore on. Being unable to see left her as helpless as she’d felt tied to Chub Walton’s bed. When she learned the stiff clumps in her hair were dried blood, she’d had a small meltdown. A nurse solved the problem by helping her wash her hair, and Julie cried all the way through the process.

“Am I hurting you, honey?” the nurse asked.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m crying. Don’t stop. I appreciate this so much.”

“You’re very welcome, but if it does hurt, just say so.”

“I will,” Julie said, trying to gather her senses, but the symbolism of washing away the blood was too strong.

The first physical trace of her assault was going down a hospital drain. If only the rest of the trauma would be that easy to dispel. Once they had finished, the nurse towel-dried and combed her hair, then went to look for a hair dryer.

Julie ran her fingers lightly along the curve of her chin and then down her neck, tracing the length and shape of the welts left by the lashes. There were similar ones all over the front of her body and between her thighs. It hurt to walk. It hurt to breathe. But she was alive and grateful.

A few moments later, the nurse came back.

“Sorry, honey. I couldn’t find a hair dryer. There had been one in our break room but it’s not there now, so whoever it belonged to probably took it home.”

“I don’t care,” Julie said. “I’m just thankful it’s clean.”

“Here’s the comb. Maybe if you keep fluffing and combing, it’ll dry quicker.”

She handed the comb to Julie then raised the head of her bed a bit more for easier access to her hair.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, thank you,” Julie said.

Her hands were shaky, but she kept running the comb through her hair and fluffing it until her hair was almost dry. Emotionally and physically exhausted, she drifted off to sleep with the comb still in her hand.

****

Brendan came off the elevator carrying a sack with two vanilla milk shakes. When he saw the food trays in the halls and realized they were already serving lunch, he hoped he wasn’t too late. Julie had already mentioned having a difficult time eating, so he went faster, anxious to get to her room.

The door was ajar. When he pushed it inward, it made a slight squeak, and as it did, he saw her turn her head toward the sound.

“It’s me, baby.”

She reached out without speaking, her hands trembling.

He hurried to her, then took her hand, put it on his cheek so she would know what he was doing, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. As he did, he smelled the shampoo.

Julie’s panic subsided as soon as the scent of toothpaste and the warmth of Brendan’s breath moved across her face, then his fingers were in her hair. She leaned against his caress and focused on the gentleness in his voice.

“Hey, honey, you washed your hair! I love it when you wear it down. It looks like sunshine and I’ll bet it feels even better.”

She took a deep shaky breath, trying to calm the level of increasing panic and made herself smile. “You have no idea. Come sit and talk to me. It’s horrible not being able to see.”

“It won’t be for long,” Brendan said. “Are you hungry? I saw food trays in the hall.”

She wrinkled her nose and then tapped her finger against her bruised and swollen lips.

“The thought of food is not exciting, mostly because I don’t want to chew.”

“You want to try that vanilla shake? I brought one for you and one for me.”

“Yes, I’ll try. That sounds so good.”

He put straws in the lids, handed her the cup, put the straw in her mouth, and then he watched to see if she could manage. Sucking the thick shake was more difficult that pulling water through the straw, and she had to quit.

She moaned. “I can’t.”

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

She nodded; too emotional to speak.

“Then I’ll feed you,” he said.

She waited, listening as paper rattled and a lid popped off the cup.

“Brendan?”

“Yeah?”

“Am I ugly?”

He frowned. “Hell no. What made you ask something like that?”

“Almost the first thing Mama said was that they’d hire a plastic surgeon to fix my face.” Her hands began to tremble again as she reached toward her cheeks.

Anger hit him so fast he didn’t temper his words. “What the fuck is wrong with her? Has she always been like that?”

“Like what?”

“Mean.”

Julie froze. She’d never thought about the slight digs she’d heard all her life as being mean. That had just been Mama’s way.

“I never thought of it that way.”

“Well, it strikes me that way, and when it comes to you, I won’t have anybody hurting you or your feelings. I don’t care if it is your mama’s way. So that explains why she’s on your no-visit list. Why are you upset with your dad?”

“His comments leaned toward needing to whitewash the abduction so he doesn’t have to face the unsavory facts. He wouldn’t acknowledge what happened beyond saying it was over and we could all just forget about it.”