"Who do we sue?" Kelly hissed, only half kidding as she lifted her suitcase off the floor and placed it on the small sofa. "False advertisement wouldn't even begin to describe this."
Joey grinned. True, this was a far cry from what he'd expected, but it wasn't horrible and he'd already made some calls about alternative arrangements. They'd stay her for a night or two and then they'd be on their way. "It's not that bad," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her back against him. "It's got a king size bed and a fireplace and that guy at the desk mentioned something about a lake out back." He craned his neck to look at her face, curious if any of her words were making an impression.
"Sweetie, does the word parasite mean anything to you?"
Joey laughed, pulling his arms tighter around her. "Look, we'll be here for tonight, two tops and then we're off to somewhere much, much better….I promise."
Kelly turned, her eyebrows raised in interest, "Really? Like what?"
"I'm thinking more luxury and less lodge….what about you?" He leaned in, kissing her gently.
"Now you're talking," she smiled.
"No way," Peter looked down at the GPS and then back down at the brochure. "No way in hell." Glancing over at Grace, he leaned his head back against the seat. For a moment, he was thankful they weren't speaking, because he didn't even want to imagine what she'd say.
The house on the brochure was the same beautiful building, complete with white gables and quaint detail work, but it had clearly been taken some years ago—before the great flood…and perhaps a few cyclones. The house in front of him had chipped paint and a sagging roof covered with leaves and debris. The charming cobblestone path was now a recipe for disaster, or at the very least, a broken ankle and the landscaped garden was nothing more than a few overgrown bushes.
Sighing deeply, he reached over, touching Gwen's shoulder. "We're here," he said quietly. He watched her as her eyes roved over the scene. Saying nothing, she opened her door, grabbed her bag, and began her walk down the path.
Peter sat still for a moment, his hands still resting on the wheel. He almost chuckled as an insane thought flew through his mind. He could leave. He could start the car, back up, and leave her here. He could go anywhere, get another job, try to put the pieces of his life back together. He deserved that, didn't he?
He might have considered it more seriously had he not glanced up to see Gwen standing at the door of the lobby. Her eyes peered through the glass, and though she said nothing, and made no move towards him, he knew….she was waiting for him—and somehow, the simple act of being needed in that moment, was enough.
Hart stared at the large dark spot on the ceiling. It must be a small leak, he thought to himself, but one good rainstorm could bring the whole thing down. Dinah took a deep breath, and he turned his head to look at her, thankful she had finally drifted off to sleep. Tonight hadn't been bad, at least not in relative terms, not compared to some nights.
Dr. Farina, the therapist that they'd gone to together, had warned him not to expect too much too fast, but Hart had never imagined they'd still be dealing with these issues nearly a year after the fact.
"I just want to help her. I'll do anything in the world to help her. Please just tell me what to do and I'll do it. I swear." He hated feeling helpless. Dinah had trusted him. She had trusted him to keep her safe, to keep their family safe, and he had let her down. He had to fix it…he had to make up for it somehow.
Dr. Farina shook her head. "I wish I could tell you that there was one thing that would fix this, Mr. Jessup, but the truth is, nothing will ever fix Dinah. The truth is Dinah may never be the person she was before this happened. The life you had together has been altered forever and as difficult as that may be to accept, the sooner you come to accept it, the easier it will be for her to accept it."
Hart nodded. "Look, I understand she's got to get through this…I know she's still dealing with a lot.. I just.." He stopped, feeling his throat tighten, as his mind snapped back to the moment he'd walked into the farmhouse. "I just don't want her to be so afraid all the time. She always looking over her shoulder. She's terrified."
"And that's not going to go away," Dr. Farina softly responded. "There are things that happened that day that I don't even believe Dinah has dealt with yet. In fact, I believe there are things that happened that I may not even know about, perhaps even things that she herself has not allowed herself to recall."
The silence settled over the room for a moment as Hart processed her words. "So, wait…you're saying, you think something else happened." His mind raced with thoughts as he struggled to maintain his composure. "Like what? To who? To Lily? Do you think he did something to Lily?" He jumped to his feet, his face burning in renewed anger.
Dr Farina put her hand out, touching his arm softly, and firmly leading him back to the chair. "I'm not saying that at all. I'm simply suggesting that I think you're expecting far too much far too soon. Dinah is nowhere near ready to get on with her life, and until she is, you're going to have to learn to meet her where she is."
Hart sighed and pulled the covers higher over them. She looked so peaceful asleep curled up next to him. It was hard to imagine that less than an hour ago, she'd been shaking and sobbing in his arms. All in the world he wanted was for her to get better and yet he understood, perhaps better than anyone else, why she couldn't. He remembered every moment of that day….just as she did, although he knew that day was so much worse for her. The ringing of his cell phone, the hollow voice on the other end, the muffled screams, he could still hear them.
If it was like this for him, how would she ever get through this?
Jake Skinner sat at the desk. "All snug in their beds," he whispered out loud, flashing for a brief moment to one of the few pleasant childhood memories he had. His mother had read those words to him on Christmas Eve a few times. That was before things got bad…before she got sick…before she died.
He stood, pacing up and down the hardwood floor. He'd already checked the cash box. Sixty-two dollars wasn't going to get him very far. Who knew a place like this would take credit cards? Jake sighed. What was he going to do now? He was desperate and desperation made him do bad things…things he didn't want to do. Just like before.
When he started his work on the Jessup farm, he'd really liked it there. Hart seemed to be a nice guy and he treated him like a person, which was more than he could say for most folks that hired help. Sure the work was hard, but he didn't mind hard work. He never had. The pay was good and, when Jake explained that he was going through a rough patch, Hart had agreed to a room and meals. That's when the trouble started.
He didn't take the damn bracelet. He was just looking at it. She had taken it off and left it beside the sink after she'd finished washing the coffee pot out. Apparently this was the kind of jewelry that you didn't get wet. When she'd come in and found him with it, he'd handed it right back. No big deal. It wasn't until later, when Mr. Jessup came to tell him that the job just wasn't going to work out that he knew….he knew what kind of person she was. He hated people like that. People who thought they were better than him. He needed that job. He wasn't like her, with a trust fund, and rich husband. She'd lived a charmed life. She had no idea what it was like to be him…no idea what it was like to work for every little thing you had. People like that didn't deserve the life they had. People like that had to pay.
"Lower," she groaned squirming towards him as she pulled her nightgown up higher. "Yeah…right there," she sighed, relaxing against the pillows.
Joey smiled, leaning closer to her ear. "Better?"
"Much," Kelly smiled, allowing her nightgown to fall down over her back.
"Good…My turn," he smiled, pulling his t-shirt off quickly and turning his back towards her. "There's about three in a row in the middle of my back. Scratch woman."
Scrubbing her own back against the headboard of the bed, she surveyed the backs on his muscular back. "The brochure didn't say anything about this," she whined.
"Mosquitoes near a lake aren't exactly front page news, sweetie," he smiled.
"Maybe not," she scoffed, "but these genetically-engineered, Godzilla versions should be."
Turning over to face her, he couldn't help but smile. Kelly had never been fond of the outdoors and getting her to agree to a walk by the lake had been like pulling teeth. After tonight, he had to admit he kind of wished they'd stayed inside and had dinner. Instead, they went outside and became dinner.
"You know what you need?" he smiled. "A distraction." Pulling her closer to him, he carefully pushed the strap of her nightgown off her shoulder. Tonight was about them.
"They said the kitchen was still open." Peter held the door open, allowing Gwen to enter ahead of him. "You want to go grab a bite to eat?"
"You go ahead." Gwen allowed her eyes to take in the room around her. The décor was plain, but she was grateful that the interior appeared to have been better maintained than the outside.
"You sure?" He knew better. If the past had taught him anything, it was not to push—to leave well enough alone. If she said no once, she wasn't going to change her mind…but for whatever reason, he still had to try. He still cared. He still loved her, even though it would be a hell of a lot easier to stop.
"I said you go," she snapped, her eyes softening a bit as she looked up at him. She had so much anger inside her. Logically, she knew being angry with Peter didn't accomplish anything. In fact, he was the one person that could even begin to understand what she was going through. She just couldn't let him in. If she even considered it, even allowed the anger to melt away for a second, she would hear his voice, 'Let her go, Gwen. She's gone'. The rage would well up again.
The door slammed and she looked up. They used to argue for hours when she'd refuse to go out, but lately he seemed resigned, or tired—she wasn't sure which. No matter, she thought, reaching down into her purse and pulling out the picture of her daughter—the one she always carried.
"Soon, baby," she whispered. "Mommy will be with you soon."
"Just a second," she called, rushing towards the door, her arms filled the still-warm laundry. Peering through the curtains, she saw his face.
"Mr. Skinner," she whispered, her throat immediately tensing, her mouth going dry. Hart was supposed to take care of this. He'd promised her he would. Why was he here? What did he want?
"I'm sorry, Hart isn't here right now." She spoke loudly, hoping he could hear her through the window pane.
She didn't even want to open the door, he realized, the anger now building inside of him with an even greater intensity. What was she afraid of him? What had he ever done to her? Nothing. Who the hell did she think she was?
"I'm sorry, but it's real important. One of the gas lines outside is leaking and Mr. Jessup isn't answering his phones. I'm afraid it might cause a fire if he doesn't get it taken care of and since I'm not working here anymore…" He allowed his voice to trail off, waiting for her to consider the idea. Her beloved husband's precious farm going up in smoke…all because she was too afraid to let the big, bad farm hand inside for a minute? Nah….she wouldn't take a chance like that.
She hesitated for a moment, then took a step back. He'd call Hart's office at Lewis. He'd be here in a few minutes and it was an emergency, after all. She opened the door, stepping back. "Come in," she said quietly, clearing her throat as she heard the quiver in her own voice.
"Thanks," Jake smiled, "Sorry to bother you. I just want to get this taken care of…you know, before anything bad happens."
Dinah nodded, laying the clean clothes in the laundry basket and crossing her arms in front of her. 'He's just trying to help,' she thought taking a breath as she picked up the basket to carry it into the other room. The noise behind her startled her as she turned.
"Dinah….Dinah…" Hart gently shook her shoulders, glancing over at Lily who was, miraculously, still sleeping.
"Hart," she whispered, reaching up to feel his arms around her. It had happened again. She lowered her head. Would this ever stop? "I'm sorry," she whispered, leaning her head against his chest as she fought to catch her breath.
"You don't ever need to apologize." Hart shook his head as he softly stroked her hair. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel like a burden, or worse to feel like she had to pretend with him. He didn't want her to act like she was fine when she wasn't, but he wished to God that she was fine. He just wanted everything to be fine again.
Opening the cash box, Jake Skinner smiled. Why didn't he think of this earlier? There might not be much cash, but there would be credit card receipts…and where there were receipts, there were numbers. Numbers he could and would steal. Illegal? Yes, but that could just be added to his ever-growing list of crimes. He was a nobody, a no good, no count, nobody—exactly what his father had said he would be.
Grabbing he receipts he glanced over the names, Peter Vint, Joey Buchanan, Hart Jessup. The other two receipts fell from his hand as he started at the one in front of him. The words came back to him… 'A family in room 6. That family….Her'
He closed the cash box. The credit cards would wait. Tonight, he had some unfinished business to take care of.
It was all her fault really. He wasn't a malicious person—not by nature, but she had treated him like a criminal…she had made him feel beneath her and no one…made him feel like that. Not anymore. It wasn't that he'd wanted to hurt her, but he was so angry. He was angry at her for believing she treating him like she was better than him, he was angry at Mr. Jessup for taking her word over his without even giving him a chance to explain, but most of all he was angry at himself for not being strong enough to believe he deserved to be treated with respect.
He felt the familiar rage begin to rise again as he stared at the signature scrawled across the bottom of the receipt. Tonight was the perfect opportunity to settle the score, he thought to himself as he walked towards the back of the room. Glancing over to the metal box on the wall, he grabbed the small latch, reaching in and pulling down the small red lever. That room, and all the others surrounding him, went dark. "Sorry guys," he whispered, a smile slowly spreading across his face. "Just setting the mood."
"Dammit!" Peter's foot caught on the steps as the sudden darkness startled him. "What the hell?" He looked around, trying to find something to grab onto in the darkness. He reached out and found nothing. Lowering himself to the ground slowly, he sat down on the step. He rubbed his ankle, which had twisted slightly. "Great," he hissed, "Just great."
"Is someone there?" Jake called out, flashing the dim beam of the flashlight across the room. He stopped and moved the flashlight back quickly when he passed over Peter's stunned face.
"Yeah…Yeah." Peter placed his hand against the wall, pushing himself to his feet. "I'm over here—on the stairs. I'm one of the guests from upstairs." He extended his hand towards the person approaching him, or at least the thought they were approaching him—he could hear the footsteps coming closer to him.
"Mr. Key," Jake said, extending his hand when he saw Peter's extended. "I'm watching over the place for the night."
Peter nodded, grateful the flashlight provided him with a small bit of light with which to take stock of his surroundings. "So, do we have any idea why all the lights are out?"
Jake smiled to himself. He was going to like Peter…he could already tell. Peter was clearly privileged and had lived the life a long time, but money didn't buy you street smarts or common sense. "Not a clue," Jake said quietly, shrugging and flashing an innocent smile. "On my way upstairs to check on everybody now."
Peter sighed. "Well, I was on my way to dinner, but I guess that's out now. My wife's upstairs. I guess I should go make sure she's ok."
Jake reached out, grabbing his arm as he started back up the stairs. "No…you know I heard the kitchen staff talking about all the food. They've already got dinner ready and on the tables. You can eat by candlelight. I'll let your wife know to come down and join you."
Peter started to protest and then stopped. Maybe Gwen would be too embarrassed to admit to a total stranger that she couldn't be in the same room with her own husband….that sharing a dinner table with him seemed like too much of an effort. "That sounds nice," he responded, shaking his head.
He made his way down the steps. Maybe tonight he and Gwen could begin the process of starting over.
"Come on Kel," Joey crooned, taking his place beside her in the bed as he placed the candle carefully back on the bedside table. "It's kind of romantic, don't you think?"
Kelly smiled at him. Joey had always been the optimist. Standing in a foot of horse shit, he'd be looking for the pony. "This might be romantic in Paris," she sighed, still taking advantage of the opportunity to snuggle in against the warmth of his body, "Here…not so much."
The knock on the door interrupted the moment.
"Everybody ok?" Jake called out. According to his records, this was the Buchanan room. He'd been a bit of a nomad for the past few years, but he'd spent enough time checking the newspapers for stories about himself and listening to the news for reports of warrants that he'd heard plenty about the Buchanan family. Buchanans meant money and lots of it.
Joey stood, getting out of bed and grabbing his robe off the back of the chair. He pulled open the door slightly, peering outside. "Can I help you?"
Jake smiled back at him. Filthy rich—he could almost smell the money on him and the wheels in his mind immediately began to turn. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm Mr. Key…just keeping a watch on the place tonight and with our little power mishap, I just wanted to make sure you folks were a ok."
"How long is this little power mishap supposed to last?" Kelly called from the bed?
Jake peered into the room, attempting to attach a face to the voice. Kelly clutched the covers tighter to her body when she realized the man had stepped slightly inside. "We'll get this taken care of just as soon as we can," he smiled. "So you two can get back to your…business."
Jake turned and walked out quickly, closing the door behind him as he left.
"That was weird," Joey commented, locking the door and climbing back into bed.
"Yeah," Kelly agreed, shivering a little as Joey wrapped his arms back around her. "He's kind of creepy. There's something about him that's just….I don't know….off." She shook her head, snuggling back in against him as she allowed her eyes to drift close. The strange caretaker could wait until morning. Tonight there was no reason to even get out of bed.
"Please just go check," Dinah pleaded. "You know how she is. If she wakes up, she's going to be terrified."
Hart reached out, putting his hands on her shoulders. His touch was gentle and reassuring—just as Dr. Farina had instructed him to be. "Dinah," he said softly, "Lily will be fine. I'm sure the wind had blown down a tree limb or something and someone will be getting the power up and running in just a little bit."
Dinah shook her head. She was having trouble breathing. Her throat felt tight and she could tell her hands were beginning to shake. It was happening again. They were back—the same horrible panic attacks that had plagued her for so many weeks after the attack. She had thought they were better. She had thought she had finally gotten them under control, but tonight, off all nights they'd come back with a vengeance.
"Dinah, please…" In his head he knew this was something out of her control. The Dinah he knew would never fall apart like this—not on purpose…not if she had any choice in the matter at all. She prided herself on her ability to take care of herself, on not needing anyone, on being self sufficient. Since the attack she'd needed him for so many things. She didn't feel safe alone at night, in the dark, in the house, walking to her car. Fear had taken over her life and she had absolutely no control over when the overwhelming urge to crawl back into herself would come.
Some days were better than others, but on days like this he was just so damn angry—angry that this happened to her, angry that he wasn't there, but most of all angry that Jake Skinner was still alive and walking around to do the same thing to someone else.
-Jake knocked on the door to Room 3. He glanced back down at the sheet in his hand. Peter Vint. "This is the right room," he grumbled, knocking again and adding a few more quick raps to the end. Still nothing.
"Mrs. Vint," he called out, reaching for the key in his pocket. His eyes fell upon the name underneath, Hart Jessup. He allowed the key to fall from his fingers. "Screw it," he muttered. "I wouldn't want to have dinner with him either."
He turned, walking away from the room and heading down the hall.