She eased her hand beneath the water and trailed her fingers down her belly, hesitating at the juncture of her thighs. Swollen, moist, the sensitive flesh of her labia greeted her fingers. With a parting of the folds, she slipped a finger inside, her mind racing with the thought of Jack doing it. Rather than her fingers, she pretended it was Jack, spreading her, teasing her with his touch.
She jerked upright in the tub and glared at the shrill ringing phone perched on the laundry basket next to it. She grabbed it, her heart pounding with excitement. Had Jack gotten away to call her again? “Hello?”
“Well, well, well, if it ain’t my little Gillian Rebecca.” Cold, harsh, the sneer filling her ear killed any trace of lust.
“Michael.” Her fingers tightened on the receiver. “Why are you calling me?”
“A man’s got to have hope, baby. Your mom’s been telling me about you. Damn girl. I didn’t know you were the type to go whoring around. Jumping into bed with some fireman, even going to his place of work. Tsk tsk, sweety, you’d think you’d know better by now. I ain’t gonna just forgive and forget you know.”
Gillian swallowed. Fear, horrible, choking, icy, wrapped itself around her throat, closing in with each breath. Her knees pulled to her chest, she struggled to hide any trace of emotion in her voice. “I’m a grown woman. I’m allowed to gallivant if I want to.”
“Listen to me, you stupid bitch. You’re mine. You think these bars are gonna keep me away from what’s mine by right?”
“I think so.” Gillian sank deeper into the water. “I know so. Lose this number. You call me again, you’ll be spending a lot of time away from the phones.”
“Ah now, baby, why you got to go and do—”
Gillian hung up, her breath exploding on a sob before she dropped the phone on the floor. It skittered across the tile to rest by the commode. Holding her hands to her face, Gillian sobbed, the familiar terror of Mike’s touch wrapping around her. Why wouldn’t they leave her alone?
Long after the water had turned icy and her skin had wrinkled, Gillian rocked in the tub, her tearstained face pressed against her knees. The haunting bitterness of Mike’s abuse curled around her.
The phone rang again, shattering the silence. She eased from the tub, checked the caller ID, and sighed. She debated ignoring it for a moment before cursing and pressing Talk. She held it to her ear. “Hello?”
“I’m surprised, I would have thought you’d be at work or something equally as drab.” Barbara’s voice snickered in her ear.
“What do you want, Mother?” Nausea rose, acrid and bitter in the back of her throat. “Haven’t you done enough?”
“Nonsense, child, I’ve done nothing. Anyway, I called to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. Lenny’s not on call so we’re going to have a family—”
“I have plans that can’t be changed, and no desire to change them if I could.” Gillian swallowed. “Not for you. Not ever again.” A ready curse on her lips, she hung up, tucked the phone into the linen closet, and wrapped her robe around her shoulders. She padded into the bedroom, sank down on the edge of her bed, and glanced around.
Neat, utilitarian, the room held little of her in it. Instead, the massive bed, the dark furniture, were all things her mother had selected. Resolve filled her. There was no way she was staying in this place. First thing in the morning she was going to start looking for a new place to live, one she could afford. Behind her eyes, a headache began to pound. She rubbed at the lids, curled on the bed, her gaze on the blinking light of her alarm clock. Tomorrow, she’d get started packing, so when she found a place…
Chapter 17
Gillian eyed the clock as she finished her breakfast. She tossed a bill on the table, donned her simple tweed coat, and headed for her car. There was a lot to do before she had to get to work. With Jack coming at eight, she wanted to be sure she was ready. She pulled the list she’d made before leaving the house from her pocket and stared at it.
Tucking it out of sight before anyone else could see it, Gillian hurried to her car. The engine roared to life with the turn of the key. With her belt in place, she headed for the local drugstore. That would be her first stop, but not her last.
Ten minutes later, her face on fire, she stood in the drugstore staring at the display in front of her. With a glance up and down the aisle, she lifted a box from the hanger and flipped it over. “Ribbed for her pleasure. Guaranteed 99.9 percent safe against the transmission of sexually transmitted diseases such as HIV and AIDS.” Confused, she glanced at the rest of the boxes and sighed. What in the hell was she doing looking at condoms? It wasn’t her responsibility, was it? Yes, it was. Even if he brought his own, she wanted to show him she was serious about this.
After dropping a couple of varieties into the basket on her arm, she all but fled. With the basket tucked against her, she browsed the bubble bath, her mind on her favorite scent and how it would be nice to share a bath with him. The ring of her cell pulled her from her appraisal of the strawberry scent.
“Hello.” Absently she set the bottle back on the shelf, her eye catching on the lavender flowers on another.
“Good morning, Gillian.” Doctor Reimer’s voice filtered through the phone. “How are you?”
“Um, okay.” Dropping her selection in the basket, she hovered for
