Fate's Redemption (2 page)

“I’m thinking of getting him a horse for
C-H-R-I-S-M-R-A-S-T.”

I blink and try to put the words together,
before bursting out laugh at his spelling. He’s always making up
letters since Ollie started understand what each word actually
meant.

Danny shrugs innocently with a smile.
“What?”

I shake my head, still laughing. “Nothing.”
We get him situated in his booster. “Do you think he’s old enough?
What about a mini?” We have many horses on our ranch at Los
Rancheros, but I’m still terrified to let him that far off of the
ground.

“Only the best for him. I wouldn’t let him on
anything that wasn’t 100%, you know that.”

I nod my head, my eyes moving around the room
absently. My eyes snag on a young girl with chocolate skin just as
she shrugs off the hand of a much older man. It’s not so much the
action as it is her eyes and the way tightening of the man’s stance
as he puts the hand back, tightening his hand so much that her
shirt wrinkles, before sliding it down her back, almost to her
butt.

I study the girl’s reaction as I put Ollie’s
orange juice in front of him and hold the straw so that he doesn’t
spill it everywhere. She seems to arch her back away from him My
eyes fly to the man, just as his face tightens in displeasure.

“I’m going to grab some sugar,” I say softly,
interrupting Ollie and Danny in their retelling of the steer that
got away.

“I’m . . . okay. You do realize you didn’t
order coffee right?” I hear vaguely, but wave it away. Heading
toward the small counter, conveniently situated by the check out
counter.

I fumble with my cup of tea and strain my
ears.

“Please stop.”

“Stop what, baby? You know you like it.”

I acutely feel the blood drain from my head
and grab the counter so that I don’t fall to my knees. The girl
grabs her cup and heads toward me. I almost pass out when I see her
round stomach, the worn t-shirt barely covering the girl of her
obviously pregnant belly. I scoot over to let her set her hot drink
beside me.

“Hi,” I hear myself say through a strangled
throat and numb lips.

The girl smiles absently as she reached for
the cream. My eyes dart to the man, seeing him swiping his card and
assessing the distance she just put between them.

“This may sound weird,” I mumble, breaking
open sugar packets and reaching for a stirrer, trying not to move
my lips. “But if you aren’t with him, if he’s hurting you, go to
the bathroom and I’ll meet you there.” I take off before my mouth
can cause more attention than it has. A ventriloquist, I am
not.

As I sit down in my seat again, Danny grabs
my shaking hand. “Baby? You okay?” I look into his earnest,
concerned face and nod, swallow and nod again.

“Danny, look at the girl by the condiments.”
His eyes study mine, flickering back and forth, reading me, before
he puts his head down and cuts his eyes to the –now couple—at the
counter. I force my gaze away from them and watch his face read the
subtle touches and the way her body shies away from him. When they
turn toward us to find a seat I see the instant his face
hardens.

“She’s a baby—,” he mumbles under his
breath.

“About to have one,” I finish his
thought.

Danny looks back to me, his attention
riveted. “Did you talk to her?”

I nod, bringing a napkin into Ollie’s lap as
a waiter brings our food. Once he’s gone, I say, “I told her to go
to the bathroom if he was hurting her.”

Danny cuts up chicken tenders for the baby,
then settles with his own food. “I didn’t see any bruises.”

I glance up from my own food to see he’s
sharing the same thought as mine. There doesn’t have to be any to
know when someone is being hurt. We’re quiet, all of us digging
into our lunch. I’m sure Danny and I are going through the motions,
but Ollie is quiet as he eats his favorite dish. Only because no
one is talking, do we hear the conversation a few tables over.

“I need to go to the bathroom, Daddy.”

“You went before you came. Sit down.”

“My bladder . . . the baby. I can’t
wait.”

“Fine, but hurry up.”

I stare hard at my husband, watching out of
the corner of my eye as the girl waddles to the back of the
restaurant. His jaw slows as he chews and swallows. Finally I see
those hazel eyes meet mine. “Go,” he says quietly.

I force myself to wipe my mouth with a napkin
and kiss Ollie’s head. “I need to use the restroom. Be right back,
baby,” I say as lightly as I can.

I don’t look at the older man sitting a few
tables away when I pass. I lock eyes with the exit sign just past
the bathrooms and don’t move my gaze until I’m in the hallway.

When I open the door, the girl is
hyperventilating and holding her stomach. I rush to her. “Are you
okay?”

“Oh my God. I don’t know what I’m doing?” she
wails.

“Shh,” I hush her quietly, checking stalls
and then the door. “Is it the baby? How far along are you?”

The girl shakes her head. “No, not the baby.”
She starts sobbing quietly, and I pull her to me. My heart is
beating out of my chest.

“Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll help you. I
swear.”

“I don’t want this baby.” She says it against
my chest, and I barely make out the words. I don’t think she wanted
me to hear them. I don’t think she wanted to hear them. Despite
everything, I did and my wheels start turning.

“Is that man your dad?” Her skin is too dark
to be biracial, but I have to ask the question.

“No. Step.” He’s her step dad. I swallow and
squeeze her tighter before I ask my next question.

“Is he the father of your baby?”

Her frame freezes up and she tries to pull
away from me. I shush her, not letting her free, until she cries
harder and finally nods her head. I nod, seeing us in the mirror
for the first time. Her shoulder heave as she lets go of her
admission and my arms flex, holding her as tight as I can.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” I rub her back, her
protruding stomach pushing into mine. I feel, miraculously, the
movement of her unborn child. It causes me to pull away, to bring
one of my hands to her face, the other to her stomach. “Listen to
me right now,” I command in a voice that might have been too
strong.

Her eyes meet mine, wet and red.

“How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“When’s your birthday?” I shoot back quickly
while I have her talking.

“Three weeks.”

“What’s your name?”

“Dominique.”

“Okay Dominique. Tell me what you want. Right
now. What do you want more than anything?”

Dominique glances around the small room
before taking a breath and telling me honestly, “I just want
gone.”

“Do you want to go to college?”

She nods.

“Will your family let you do that?”

The young girl shakes her head. “I have to
raise the baby.”

My hands come to either side of her face.
“Listen to me now. If you want to go to college, if you stepdad is
hurting you, if you aren’t consensual, I will help you. You call
1-800-Call-Hope. Tell them your name, and a safe place to meet you.
I’ll be there. I can get you out of this.”

When I’m stressed you can usually find me in
a field full of cows. It sounds weird, but the horse that I’m on is
trained in her craft. She selects her prey, and systematically
singles him from the herd. My job is to pretty much hang on and egg
her on. It’s a thrill, and you can feel the horses’ excitement when
they love their job. To come from a five year marriage that was the
ultimate definition of abusive, and stand up to those kinds of
predators everyday and save versions of myself I need the kind of
focus that Barley shows when she’s cutting calves.

Dominique has shaken me in a way that I
didn’t think was possible after three years. I’ve seen the evidence
too many times to count, and to think that it’s happening under a
mother’s nose, or that she could even be aware makes me want to
find that child and protect her and her baby. It’s been four days
and I still haven’t heard anything from the hotline.

Once Barley and I are covered in sweat and
dirt I head us back to the barn with a flick of my wrist and a tap
of my ankles. My parents had owned a ranch so riding is second
nature to me, but Danny’s spread is something altogether different.
Nestled in the foothills of California wine country, having the
privacy of an organic gated community, the fifty acres here is the
most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. It’s home.

“Hey Kinley. How was your ride?” Deb asks me
while taking the reins.

“It’s always exactly what I need.” I smile at
the workhand and dismount from the saddle. “Where’s Phil off
to?”

“Oh you know Phil. He’s tinkering with things
best left alone,” she grumbles about her husband, before we both
start laughing. Phil gets bored easily and starts trying to
‘improve’ things.

“Well make sure he gets whatever grease he’s
covered in off before dinner.”

Deb nods her understanding. “At the pool
house?”

“Yeah, I’m making a roast since it’s getting
so cold. Maybe some hot chocolate?”

“I’ll bring the schnapps,” she says with a
wink. Walking up the hill, I follow the bath to the pool and
outdoor covered kitchen to check on the marinating meat.

When I get into the house a few minutes
later, the dog follows me in, and I get tackled around the knees by
little arms. I ruffle Ollie’s hair and smile into eyes the color of
a summer sky. “Hi, baby. Where’s Daddy?”

“He say he be back. More calls in the
office,” Rosa, the housekeeper and sometimes nanny says with a roll
of her eyes and thick accent.

“Can you watch Ollie for a few minutes while
I take a quick shower?”

Rosa shoos me away with a kitchen towel and
takes the baby into the living room.

“Five minutes, Rosa.”

“Is no trouble, Mija. We play.”

When shampoo is in my hair and my eyes are
closed, I hear the sound of the bathroom door open. I don’t have a
chance to be alarmed, because the sound of rapping has me stifling
a giggle even as it brings tears to my eyes.

I quickly rinse my eyes so that I don’t miss
the show. Danny’s bobbing his head, his body rolling in a perfect
rhythm to his words. He’s calling me Porsche, and the acoustics in
the room are giving me goosebumps as he sings parts of the song
about a car and getting under the hood, pulling the top down. It’s
an upbeat song, not that I know it. But Danny bobs and weaves to
the song, at one point jumping on the balls of his feet.

As he finally gets quiet with the last verse
I clap slowly. Danny’s eyes are drawn to my naked chest, and I
watch him grab a towel blindly. I move my head to the side and let
him stroke the soft fabric down my neck and breasts. “I’m not
freaking out, why did you rap?” I ask quietly.

Danny works down one arm, then starts on the
other. “You may not be freaking out that I can see, but I know this
girl has you stressed out. Plus, who doesn’t love a Porsche?” I
giggle and lightly slap his shoulder, getting a blinding smile in
return. The first time Danny rapped to me, I was having a panic
attack in a hotel gym bathroom about having to go home to my
husband.

“I love you, Danny.”

Danny drops to his knees and rubs the towel
up my legs. Finally he meets my eyes and kisses the top of my
thigh. “I love you more.”

My breath hitches, and I whisper my protest.
“No.”

Danny pulls back, both of his big calloused
hands on the outside of my thighs, rubbing up and back down to my
knees. He raises his eyebrows. “No?”

“I meant no I love you more. Don’t stop.”

He watches his hands move from my thighs,
over my hips and the curve of my waist. Danny barely touches my
breasts with his fingertips before bringing them back down, at the
same time rising to his knees. “You couldn’t possibly love me the
way I love you, baby.” I open my mouth to continue the gushes of
marital bliss, but Danny steals my words with his tongue.

I close my eyes on a sigh and let him win the
fight happily. As he plays me like one of his guitars, I see stars
behind my eyelids. He strums over me, hitting the perfect cords
until I’m clutching his head and moaning my ecstasy. Danny rises
slowly, and my core clenches at the sheen on his lips. He catches
my lips on the way up, since he towers over me. When his tongue
rubs with mine I suck it into my mouth, tasting myself and getting
aroused all over again.

“Dinner’s soon, babygirl. I just wanted to
take the edge off for you, we’ll finish this later.”

I pull back to see he’s actually serious, so
I throw a pouty lip at him, but have to duck fast as he snaps those
straight teeth at me like he’s going to bite it off. I giggle all
the way into my closet.

Danny follows me to lean against the door,
tracking every move I make with his eyes. I stop with my bra on one
shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want to take me on this bench?” I
ask, pointing to the low lying narrow bench at the side of the
room. “It can be quick.”

He sighs deeply and runs his hands over his
face. “No,” he mumbles. Pushing away from the door, he says more
firmly, “No. The family’s waiting, Ollie’s going to get cranky
soon. We’ll have time tonight. I love you.”

I smile at his back as he leaves. “I love you
more.”

“No.”

“Yes,” I say to the closed door.

“I can’t hear you!” he says from the other
side. I consider yelling back to him, but just laugh instead.

The call comes in the middle of the night,
after an exhausting night of mixed drinks, salsa dancing, family
and friends, not to mention what happened after the baby was
asleep.

“’Lo?” I force one eye open when I don’t hear
anything and the buzzing doesn’t stop. I press another button.
“Hello?” I croak.