shaking.
He looked her up and down. “You need clothes. You can’t very well return home wearing what you have on.”
Brook put on a look of dismay, purely faked. “I thought you liked the way I looked in these clothes.”
Lance, noticing the mischievous look, stated firmly, “It only makes me angry to see them. It means I have one less set of clothing.” He stopped, letting his gaze travel over her again, this time with a leer. “Actually, the clothes look better on you than they ever did on me; but I really like it better when you wear nothing.”
Brook blushed. “Let’s go shopping before we have to get a motel.”
They jumped back in Old Reliable and drove further into town. Brook’s eyes roved constantly, searching for the faces she hoped to never see again. Hunting for the monsters who had hurt her.
After going to a couple of stores, Brook took her purchases into the restroom of the cafe that doubled as the bus station. She exited wearing a mid-calf dress of soft suede with a matching jacket. She had donned a pair of panty hose but still wore the moccasins Lance had made for her. She had purchased blush, mascara, and lipstick and had spent some time with the cosmetics and her hair.
When Lance saw her he breathed a soft, “Whoooh!”
Brook took this as the compliment it was meant to be and smiled gratefully. One of her other purchases had been a valise to carry her few possessions. Now, she accepted the ticket from Lance’s outstretched hand. One way to Denver. She looked sadly at the piece of paper, positive it meant she would be separated from Lance forever. She noted the time of departure and put on a brave face. “I still have an hour before I leave. How about we take a walk?”
Lance presented his arm and they exited the building. They walked slowly along meandering paths until they came to a tiny park. Sitting on a bench outside the gazebo, they stared up at the surrounding mountains. “It is so beautiful here,” Brook whispered, leaning her head on Lance’s shoulder.
“It surely is,” Lance said, his eyes for her alone.
They spoke little, each simply enjoying the nearness of the other. They returned to the bus stop and all too soon her bus arrived. Brook gazed into Lance’s dark eyes for only a moment, the ache of leaving threatening to overwhelm her. She saw Lance struggling with the same torment. Quickly, she stood on tiptoe to kiss him goodbye. He met her halfway and they lingered briefly over the kiss. Neither spoke of their love, they had told each other many times the night before; the time had come to put these words aside. Brook boarded and looked straight ahead, blinking away tears as the bus pulled out.
Lance, for his part, stood and watched until the bus disappeared over a rise in the road. Only then did he return to his truck. He started it up and pointed it towards home. Although there was a lot to replenish after the winter, there would be no shopping today; he needed the comforts of his cabin now.
Riding on the bus with her meager possessions, Brook felt she could relate to the homeless; even though, in truth, she had a place to go, a home, a life. As the bus rolled down the road, moving further from one man she loved and closer to the other, Brook found herself in turmoil. How would she feel being with Clark again? Did she really still love him? She hadn’t really thought about the matter before her abduction. But since that time, she had realized that life with Clark had changed over the years.
After their engagement and during the first year of marriage, Clark had spent every dinner hour with her and every weekend. Then, over the next few years, he had begun to stay later at work, and their dinners together dropped to two or three times a week. And then, he began working most weekends. Also, in the early days of their marriage, they had talked. They talked about their childhoods and the time that had transpired between then and when they met. Thinking back, Brook realized these talks centered more on Clark’s life, than her own. But, even at that, conversation had dwindled away to merely perfunctory exchanges. Adequate, but unsatisfying.
Then she lost Lacey, the precious baby she had longed so to hold, to nurture through childhood and shape into a healthy, happy adult. When that dream was ripped away, along with the chance to ever have another baby, Brook had been crushed. But Clark hadn’t really been affected. Oh, he had been sad at the time, but he quickly forgot the whole incident and carried on as before. No! Not as before. Now that she really thought about it, Clark had withdrawn further from her after the loss, spending more time at work and far less with her. Possibly, she reflected, this was her fault. She hadn’t been the same afterwards either.
Clark hadn’t understood why Brook wanted a child so much. Several years after losing the baby, Brook had broached the subject of adoption. Clark had looked at her with incredulity. “I suppose we could,” he had said, flatly. “But it’s not like it would be ours.”
Brook had insisted that any baby they raised would be theirs completely.
Then, Clark had dropped the bombshell. “You do what you want, but it won’t be my child. It won’t have Parrish blood.”
From that point, Brook now realized, life had changed around their house. They made love, but not as frequently. The goodbye kisses that used to promise things to come had now become obligatory, little more than a duty. She now knew that while she had still
Then there were the last five months. What would Clark’s reaction be to her sudden return home? Would he understand how she had suffered? Clark never had been strong on empathy. How would he respond when he heard about the rapes? Would he see her as dirty, damaged goods, unworthy of his attentions? And, more to the point, how could she hide the fact from Clark that she had been with Lance, had lain, willingly, with another man? Brook ran scenarios through her head as the bus traveled on.
As the trip neared an end, she fingered the beautiful bracelet that wrapped her wrist in a symbol of Lance’s love. She felt so alone right now.
Brook was astounded by the range of emotions that poured over her; sadness over leaving Lance, happiness to be returning home to her family, and confusion over her feelings for Clark. By the time she stepped off the bus in Denver, her mood was so low, she found it a struggle to even breathe. Climbing down from the bus, she straightened her posture and wove through the crowd of other travelers, seeking a telephone.
Just as she spotted a pay phone, she changed her mind. She couldn’t call Clark out of the blue; it wouldn’t be fair to him. And, she was very confused about his part in her abduction. She would go home and wait for him. Watch his reaction. Gauge it. Plus, it would give her another small space of time to put away her feelings for Lance and organize her thoughts. She was nervous at the prospect of facing her husband instead of looking forward to the reunion like she ought to be doing. Her heart wasn’t in it, but she resolved to see it through.
She stepped outside and was startled by the unexpected warmth of the day. It was still cold in Haylieville. She had forgotten the weather would be much different at this altitude. Brook removed her jacket and draped it over her arm. Moving briskly to the curb, she waved at a cab and got inside. She hesitated before giving her address.
“The nearest police station,” she said on impulse. The cabbie nodded and pulled into the traffic.
Chapter 50
Brook walked into the police station with no idea the kind of stir she was about to cause. Approaching the glass window, she asked to speak to a detective.
“Your name, please?” The officer’s voice was tinny though the speaker. He was bent over a sheet of paper.
“Brooklyn Parrish.”
At the sound of Brook’s name, the officer’s head shot up and he dropped his paper. Peering intently through the glass, he stared, unable to hide his surprise.
“Just a second,” he said, and picked up the phone.
In a flurry of activity, a side door opened and several people hurried toward Brook. A tall woman in a dark suit extended her hand as the others, some in uniform, stood back.
“I’m Detective Randi Conroy,” she said. “You’re Brooklyn Parrish?”
“Yes, I am.” Brook found the detective’s handshake comforting somehow, warmer than she expected. Strong, confident. Brook felt immediately at ease with her.
