We turned up Buck’s drive, Mrs. Jimenez in the back.
Me, luckily saved from my thoughts because I had to pretend everything was all right.
No.
Everything was just great.
Instead of everything being wrong, wrong, wrong with quite a bit of clashing, right, right, right.
I had jumped from the frying pan straight into a fire.
Sure, this time, I had a roof over my head (that Buck was providing), food in my belly (ditto from Buck), a job (given to me by Buck), friends (also Buck’s) and safety (provided by Buck and his boys).
All of this was good.
All of it I liked.
But all of it made me more indebted to him.
This, however, was not in the normal way partners became indebted to each other.
Like, he took care of me, and later on down the line, I listened when he had problems or I made his favorite birthday cake or I bought a set of underwear he really, really liked and let him unveil it as a surprise, giving a little back.
This was a debt that was paid by the loss of my freedom, and maybe, my choice.
Apparently, according to Buck, I couldn’t leave.
And I couldn’t leave, not realistically.
But also, according to Buck, I just couldn’t.
The drive to Mrs. Jimenez’s had been tense.
Buck, in true Buck form, tried to dispel it.
He did this by taking my hand and saying gently, “I wasn’t pissed at you, baby. And I’m not now. I’m pissed at Gash. Then…and now.”
“Why?” I’d asked.
“Why?” he asked back, like that was a crazy question.
“Yes, why are you pissed at him, West?”
“Because he was stupid, babe,” he stated, like that was obvious.
The good of that was, it sounded genuine. He genuinely sounded pissed that Gash had been “stupid.” Stupid, I assumed, because he was doing something somewhere where he could get caught.
Not pissed that he saw Gash screwing his side piece.
So that was good.
Sort of.
The bad about that was, his answer was not, “Because Minnie’s a good woman and no man should do that ever, but definitely not to a good woman.”
Upon which, maybe, I could open discussions about what I saw weeks ago with Buck and Nails at the picnic table.
So at that point, I’d become the woman no woman should ever become.
I tested my man.
“I called Rayne Scott today,” I announced.
“Come again?” he’d replied.
“I called him. He came into the office,” I shared, and it even sounded like a dare. “I told him about the money. Rogan’s money that’s not really his money as well as the life insurance payout.”
Buck had no immediate reply.
But when I said no more, he drawled out a leading, “Okay.”
“I told him he could have it when I got it. To put it back in the pension fund.”
At that, Master of the Contradiction, West Hardy, who came with so much good, but also some significant bad, lifted my hand to his mouth, brushed my knuckles with his lips, dropped it to his thigh and said, “That’s cool.”
“That’s cool?” I pressed. “Minnie and Chap didn’t think it was cool.”
“They didn’t?” he asked, sounding perplexed.
“They didn’t think it was cool I give that money away and they really didn’t think it was cool I called Scott.”
“Gotta say, wished you’d told me that, so when he showed, I could have had your back, darlin’. He tweaks you. Not a fan of not bein’ there for you when you had your chat. Glad Minnie was there. But the money, it’s not Minnie’s. Or Chap’s. It’s not mine. It’s yours. Though, you’re right, some of it should go back to that pension fund. The money he stole. The life insurance, honey…” He let that trail.
“What about the life insurance?”
Yes.
Still testing.
“You haven’t had a lot in your life, Clara,” he said softly. “And that guy fucked your life and your future. He owes you that. He owes you more than that, but at least that’s something. It’ll be a nest egg for you. And if you’re careful with it, you’ll never be back where you were ever again. And I can’t say I don’t like that for you.”
I could read from that I had been correct in my earlier thoughts.
Perhaps Minnie (and Lorie and Pinky) had to put up with a man calling the shots.
But it would seem Buck was not like that.
So…
Yes.
Pure Buck.
After some significant bad, he gave good answers, reminding me about all there was to Buck, how much of it there was, and the fact that most of it was pretty awesome.
Hmm.
Fortunately, these answers were good enough, at least by the time we got to Mrs. Jimenez’s and picked her up, I wasn’t in a dither.
I could do the introductions and even laugh when she stared at Buck when she first saw him like she didn’t know if she wanted to flee or throw herself into his arms and lament time, wishing she was thirty again and she could make a play for him.
It was cute.
What wasn’t cute was the look she gave me after.
Filled with such relief, such warmth, such happiness all that was West Hardy was at my side, I nearly cried.
Mercifully, I got a handle on it and didn’t.
And now, I could bury my thoughts in Buck’s enchiladas, Gear’s winning personality and Mrs. Jimenez’s love.
So at least, I figured, I’d be able to get through the night.
“Aiy,” Mrs. Jimenez said from the backseat, “you have a beautiful home, West.”
I twisted in my seat to see she had her eyes glued to Buck’s house.
So I looked at his house on the short ridge, nestled in the trees, above the pretty, twinkling-in-the-waning-rays-of-sunlight creek flowing in front of it. A house with all its windows, gleaming wood, fantastic deck, the red rock foothills rising steep from beyond the valley.
She was right. I’d thought it before. It was a cool house in a beautiful location.
But it was far out of town. Hard on the gas budget, which was hard on the environment. And living there meant, if you needed anything outside groceries, or had a desire for food outside what you could get at the Valley Inn or the single Italian place that also delivered pizza, you had a long slog to get there, that same slog back.
As such, it weirdly defined Buck.
That house was awesome, the locale amazing, you had everything you needed there and then some.
But it came with drawbacks.
They didn’t seem significant.
But over time, they could wear on you.
“Wait until you see the view from the inside,” I told her, trying to sound excited and thinking I’d failed when I felt Buck’s eyes on me.
I looked to the windshield to avoid his gaze only to see four things.
One was Gear standing outside looking strangely troubled.
Another was Gear’s sweet ride, as ever, shiny clean and clearly taken care of.
The third was another sweet ride, this one an interesting shade of blue/green and definitely awesome.
The last was a hugely smiling Tatiana who was bouncing on her toes and not looking troubled, angry, pouty, blank or any way she normally looked while around me.
The last made me stare.
“Shit,” Buck muttered under his breath, and I turned my stare to him to see his gaze locked on his daughter.
Buck stopped the SUV, but before he’d done it, Tatiana launched herself toward us and she was in Buck’s door nearly before he got it fully open.
“Daddy! A Charger! I knew it!” And she threw her arms around him when he jumped down.
“Babe,” he murmured as I got out, closed my door and went to help Mrs. Jimenez.
“A 1969 Dodge Charger. Turquoise!” she screeched.
I looked her way as I helped Mrs. Jimenez get out and saw Tatiana was jumping up and down.
“It’s perfect!” she declared. “It’s better than the last one! It’s even cooler than Gear’s ride! It’s the bomb.”
“Tatie,” Buck said as I closed Mrs. Jimenez’s door and we moved to the hood of the truck, all this while Tatiana ran toward the turquoise car, which she was right, was quite something.
“I knew you didn’t mean what you said!” Tatiana yelled, still jumping up and down, but every once in a while, stopping to touch the car reverently with both hands. “I knew you wouldn’t make me wait.”
We all moved toward her, Buck stopping a few feet away, Gear, for some reason, keeping his distance.
I took Gear’s distance as a warning and stopped Mrs. Jimenez at a safe location not close to the exuberant Tatiana.
“Gear says it’s just somethin’ you’re workin’ on. But I know. I know!” she continued.
“Tatie, honey, what’d I say?” Buck asked gently, and she grinned at him.
“Yeah, you said that, but this isn’t here just to be here.” She threw her arm out to the vehicle. “I know what this is.” Then she launched herself at her father, jumping up, throwing her arms around his shoulders and giving him a big hug. “I soooooo knew you wouldn’t make me wait!” she shouted and then giggled.
She was cute when she was excited, smiling and giggling. Although I had a feeling this wasn’t what it seemed to be, not for Tatiana, I thought vaguely she should be that way more often.
Buck set her away from him and repeated, again gently, “Tatiana, what’d I say?”
Her head tilted to the side, and it took a minute, but slowly the smile faded away.
Buck went on, “You smashed up the ride I gave you for your birthday within three days, and since, you got two tickets joyridin’ in Gear’s.”
Really?
He hadn’t shared any of this with me.
“I told you,” Buck continued. “You weren’t gettin’ another car until you could control your shit. And, honey,” he put his hand on the side of her neck, “sorry, but I meant it.” His voice gentled even further when he shared, “That ride’s Clara’s.”
Uh-oh.
Gear’s eyes came to me.
I felt Mrs. Jimenez’s eyes on me.
Buck’s eyes stayed on his daughter.
But Tatiana’s eyes also turned to me.
“Clara’s?” she whispered.
Oh dear.
She jumped back a step, her arms curled up, tight at her sides, her hands clenched into fists under her shoulders. She leaned into her father, face going red, and screeched, “Clara’s?”
“Tatie,” Buck said softly.
“Fuck you!” she shrieked.
Buck’s body went solid, and Gear was on the move toward his sister.
“Aiy, Dios mio,” Mrs. Jimenez whispered.
“Tat, stay cool,” Gear urged, putting a hand on her arm.
But she shook it free and jumped back again, her eyes coming to me.
“And fuck you! Fuck you, Clara! Fuck you, fuck you, fuck…you!”
Then she raced into the house, Buck and Gear following her.
I licked my lips, pulled them between my teeth and bit them.
I then looked down at Mrs. Jimenez, who still had a hand on my arm, and let my lips go to say, “As you know, Tatiana isn’t my biggest fan yet.”
Yes, I’d shared about Tatie.
We talked every day, but also, I did it to prepare her for what she might face if Tatiana wasn’t in the mood to be cool that night.
“This I can see,” Mrs. Jimenez muttered, her eyes going to the house in time to see Tatiana racing out again.
“Tat! Jesus!” Gear raced after her. “Give me my fuckin’ keys!”
My body jolted.
So did Mrs. Jimenez’s.
Oh no!
Buck came out last.
“Tatiana, swear to Christ, you get behind the wheel of your brother’s car pissed—” Buck started.
But he didn’t finish because Tatiana got behind the wheel of her brother’s car pissed. She locked the door. Gear banged on the roof, shouting expletives, but she fired up the engine, and with gravel spewing from the back tires, she sped down the drive.
“Take the Charger,” Buck gritted. Reaching into his jeans’ pocket, he pulled out some keys and tossed them to Gear, who caught them. “Track her, calm her ass down and bring her back. You leave one of the cars. She’s not drivin’. We’ll go pick it up wherever you leave it tomorrow.”
“She fucks up my car, I’ll break her fuckin’ neck,” Gear threatened, stalking to the turquoise car.
“Cool it. Track her, get her ass home,” Buck returned.
Gear nodded, folded into the Charger and took off.
Mrs. Jimenez and I stared after Gear.
Then, in unison, our heads swung to Buck.
“Enchiladas are off,” he bit out.
“Sí,” Mrs. Jimenez agreed, and she didn’t shrink back like I did when Buck prowled to us.
He pulled his wallet out, flipped it open, yanked out some bills, lifted my hand using my wrist and slapped them in my palm.
“Take her out to eat, take her home,” he ordered, replacing his wallet but slapping the keyfob to the SUV on the money in my palm then curling my fingers around it all.
“What…?” I swallowed. “What are you going to do?”
“Have a fuckin’ beer, a shot of tequila, and keep on havin’ ’em so I won’t hop on my bike, hunt down my daughter and rip her a new asshole,” Buck snarled.
Oh dear.
Though, I figured the translation of that was: I’m going to stay home so I’ll be here when my daughter gets back so we can talk this out, Biker Dad and Biker Babe Daughter style. In the meantime, just be home should the police call or come around because my daughter was arrested for excessive speeding, or erratic driving, or something worse happening.
My stomach clutched at that last thought.
“That sounds like a good plan,” I whispered, thinking it did for Buck, but when she got home (hopefully safe), it wouldn’t be fun for Tatie.
Buck scowled at me, his scowl sliced through Mrs. Jimenez, he pulled it together enough to dip his chin at her and say, “I apologize for my daughter. We’re havin’ some issues. Have a nice meal with Clara.” And with that, he stalked into the house.
I took in a deep breath and looked down at Mrs. Jimenez.
“It isn’t always like this,” I assured her.
I’d told her about Tatiana and how she felt about me.
I hadn’t shared as much about Buck.
Well, not the uncertain stuff, just the good stuff.
“It’s usually a lot lower-key,” I concluded lamely.
Mrs. Jimenez shrugged, gave my arm a squeeze and said back, “Family. The more love there is, the more friction there can be. I know. My family has a lotta love. My husband Pablo, he frowned on bad language, but I have three sons and one daughter. They fought since they came out of the womb, with each other, Pablo and me. That’s how families are.” She patted my arm just above her hand and finished, “You’ll learn this, cariña.”
I was learning a lot of things this day, but it had to be said, they were a lot of things I didn’t really want to learn.
Just a typical day for Clara Delaney.
“Let’s go eat,” I suggested.
Mrs. Jimenez nodded, and I helped her back to the SUV. Then I helped her into it.
After that, I rounded the hood, and it took everything I had, but I didn’t look at the house.
We went out to eat.
I turned in bed so I was on my back, and my gaze hit the dark ceiling.
Buck was with me, but he wasn’t touching me.
This, I thought, was good.
I thought this because, even though I had been gone a long time, Buck was in no better mood when I got back.
I had dinner with Mrs. Jimenez at The Outlook (Buck gave me a lot of money, so I decided to treat Mrs. Jimenez with it, and even though we didn’t have a reservation, which was usually necessary at posh restaurants like The Outlook, we only had to wait half an hour for a table. Bonus, even posh, The Outlook was in Arizona, so jeans were appropriate attire, though I was glad I had on fancy shoes, and I suspected Mrs. Jimenez was glad she dressed up to meet Buck and his family).
We enjoyed that dinner, though my mind was on other things.
She, with her keen Mother and Grandmother Senses, discerned that.
We started talking about it (some of it, I didn’t share about my Biker Babe Lessons, any of them).
She didn’t make me feel much better, but she did try, and best of all, she listened and that always felt nice.
I took her home and then went back to Buck’s.
When I arrived at Buck’s, the Charger was in the drive, the Nova was not, Gear was brooding in front of the TV, and Buck, surrounded by a plethora of empty beer bottles and a near-empty tequila bottle, was brooding on the deck.
Gear greeted me.
Buck, as I walked to the front door, didn’t bother.
And I decided I should leave him to his thoughts because they didn’t appear pleasant and I didn’t want an unpleasant mood turned on me. I’d learned with Buck unpleasant meant worried, and worried meant angry.
I did not fall asleep with my head on Buck’s thigh.
I watched TV with a silent Gear.
Silent, that was, after he told me what I’d already guessed.
He hadn’t found Tatiana.
He also shared that she “did this.”
As in, took off when she got angry and didn’t come back until she’d burned it out.
She’d done it when she was a kid. She’d run away. And she did it now that she wasn’t so much of a kid and unfortunately had access and legal privileges to take off in a car.
Lastly, Gear shared that Buck wasn’t a big fan of Tatiana’s “scenes.”
I gathered that myself.
What Gear didn’t share, but what I also gathered, was that he didn’t like them much more. Especially when she did them in his beloved car.
When I started to nod off, I went to bed alone.
Buck woke me when he stretched out beside me. Without a functioning alarm clock, I couldn’t know what time it was, though I sensed it was very late.
I did know he didn’t turn into me. He didn’t turn me into him, and he didn’t fall asleep for a while.
I didn’t know if he knew he’d woken me.
I did know, if he knew, he didn’t care, had nothing to say or was simply too angry to speak.
I eventually heard his breaths even out, but my thoughts didn’t even out. So for the first time since being at Buck’s house, my mind didn’t allow me to get good sleep.
Truth be told, I was worried about Tatiana.
I mean, I was a newbie to her scenes, but it was late.
Where was she?
And…
The last time she’d gone out in order to act out, she’d come home smashed.
And the thought of her smashed, in a car, made my stomach ache.
Badly.
Which was why I was staring at the ceiling.
And it was also why I heard it.
My body got tight as I listened.
Barely a sound, but somehow, I could tell it was someone in the house trying to be quiet.
Then I heard the low hum of the pipes, meaning the water was running in Tatiana’s bathroom.
Needing to see if it was her, and not Gear down from the loft to use the bathroom, I slid carefully out of bed and headed to the door.
I did this being sure not to wake Buck. I was worried, if it was Tatie, and she was drunk, she’d driven Gear’s car drunk, and Buck and Gear were already angry enough at her. If she did something that stupid, they’d lose their minds.
So I wanted to get to her first.
Okay, this was so I could make an effort to cover for her. And maybe that wasn’t the right choice for her, her father, or her brother.
It also wasn’t a way for me to ingratiate myself to her.
I just felt for her.
I had not been in a place where I felt safe to act out as a teen.
But I remembered how confusing and stressful it was to be a girl at sixteen. Things happened with your body and boys and peers and mood swings you didn’t get were because your hormones were controlling your life. There was also pressure to start thinking about your future.
Add in a mom who doesn’t treat you all that well, a stepdad you don’t like, a dad you loved who lived too far away, and a new woman in your beloved father’s life…
Times were tough for Tatiana Hardy.
So yes.
I felt for her.
She needed an ally, and even if she didn’t want that to be me, she was going to get it.
When I got to the hall, I saw the bathroom door was closed, but a light was coming from under it.
Quietly, I knocked, and just as quietly, I whispered, “Tatiana, it’s Clara. You don’t have to talk with me or open the door. Just let me know you’re okay. Are you okay?”
There was nothing except the water running.
“Tatiana,” I called softly, “just tell me if you’re okay.”
More nothing except water.
I slowly twisted the knob and just as slowly opened the door, poking my head around.
Then my body froze.
Stock-still.
And my heart shattered into little pieces.
I saw her in the mirror, her back to me. Her lip was already fat, her cheekbone red and swollen, blood was dripping from her nose, and looking down, I saw her T-shirt was torn so badly I could see her bra. She had a jeans skirt on, it was mini, just not micro-mini, and the seat of it was filthy, pine needles still clinging to the material like they’d been ground in, the same with the back of her T-shirt.
Like she’d been lying in dirt.
No, like she’d been wrestling in dirt.
The pieces of my heart flew back together in order to start pumping blood so madly, I could feel the muscle move just as I felt the blood sing through my veins.
I slid in, closed the door behind me, my eyes never leaving hers in the mirror.
Then I whispered, “Tatie, talk to me.”
And I watched, my throat closing, as she dissolved.
Dissolved.
Her face into tears and her body started folding to the floor.
I caught her halfway down and went down with her. I sat on my behind, and she burrowed in, a sixteen-year-old girl pushing into my lap, her arms coming around me, her body pressing close, her face shoved into my neck, her frame wracked with sobs.
Oh God, no.
No.
I dropped my head and whispered in her ear, “Tatie, baby, who hurt you?”
She just held on tighter and cried harder.
I held tighter too, with one arm, and used my other hand to stroke her hair.
It had dirt in it too.
And it was matted.
Badly.
No.
“Honey, who hurt you?”
She shook her head violently and kept holding on.
“How badly are you hurt, baby?” I asked. “Do we need to get you to the hospital?”
“I need a shower,” she whispered.
“Okay, I get that, but you have to talk to me first. What happened? Who hurt you? How did they hurt you?”
“I need a shower,” she repeated.
“Baby, listen to me, you need to talk to me right now. Tell me what happened.”
“I need a shower.”
I stopped stroking her hair and put my hand under her chin. Pulling away a smidge, I lifted her face so I could see her.
“Honey, please. Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t have any underwear on,” she whispered.
I closed my eyes briefly as those words cut through me like a blade, opening me up, bleeding.
I reopened my eyes.
“Did you leave that way?”
She stared at me.
Then she said so low I could barely hear her, “No.”
Oh God, no.
Please, God, no.
“Did someone touch you like you didn’t want?” I asked.
“Yes,” she whispered. “No,” she went on. “Yes, but they didn’t…they…” She shook her head. “I got away.”
“So you haven’t been raped?”
Her face crumpled, and I wrapped my hand around the back of her head and pushed it in my neck, my heart pumping again, the blood singing, thick and hot.
“No, but they…hurt me,” she said softly.
I held her tighter.
“I have to tell your father.”
Her body jerked and she pulled away. “No!”
“Tatie, honey, listen to me.” I framed her face with my hands. “I have to tell your dad.”
“No! He’ll be mad at me.”
Her voice was rising, and I pulled her face closer to mine.
“Honey, listen, shh, just listen, okay? Okay?” She nodded so I went on, “He has to know. We have to call the police. We need to get you to the hospital.”
She shook her head in my hands fervently.
“Listen to me.” I held her tighter, trying to do it gently. “They aren’t allowed to touch you like you don’t want. Baby, they’re not. Something has to be done.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Tatie—”
The door opened.
“Fuck me, this again? My girl drove fuckin’ drunk?” Buck growled, and both Tatiana and I looked up at him.
Tatiana’s body froze against mine but mine froze right along with hers.
This was because Buck was staring at his daughter, and I knew, looking at him, that I’d never seen the snake.
Now, I was seeing the snake.
“Gear!” he roared and disappeared from the doorway.
Oh no!
I forced Tatiana to face me. “Hang tight for me, sweetie. Okay? Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
Then I let her go, got up and raced from the room.
“Locke! Get your ass down here!” Buck thundered from the foot of the stairs, so I headed to him.
I dashed around him when he started stalking back to his bedroom.
I put my hands to his chest and pushed, but he kept moving, forcing me backwards, his face tight, his muscles under my hands like steel.
He didn’t look at me, just kept moving.
“Buck, honey, listen to me. We have to call the police,” I told him.
“Fuck that,” he snarled.
I pushed harder at him, trying and failing to plant my feet.
“Buck, we need to take her to the hospital. We need to take care of Tatie.”
“Get your hands off me, babe.”
“Buck! Please! We have to—”
I didn’t finish.
He stopped, wrapped his hands around my upper arms, picked me up and threw me aside.
I hit the wall of the hall with such force, the blow to my shoulder caused pain to radiate out, up and down.
Everywhere.
It hurt so much and was such a shock, I stood there, leaning against the wall, my other hand to it for added support as I stared after Buck, who didn’t break another stride and disappeared into his room.
I blinked my shock away and this took a while.
So long, Buck was out of the room wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt over the jeans he already had on as well as socks. He was carrying his boots. Gear was down the stairs and standing in the hall in his cutoff sweats.
“Dressed. Now,” Buck barked.
Gear stared at him half a beat, then raced back up the stairs.
Buck stopped in the door to the bathroom.
“Who?” He continued to bark.
“Dad—” Tatiana whimpered.
Buck leaned forward and bellowed, “Who?”
“Those guys who go to ASU,” she whispered.
“Gear know ’em?” Buck asked.
“Yes, but, Dad—”
Buck moved from the doorway, came to me, lifted a finger to point it in my face and his body followed so his face was behind his hand and his furious eyes were locked on mine.
“You call the cops, Toots, I break your fuckin’ neck.”
I stared at the space he used to be in, but he was gone, disappeared right before my eyes.
It wasn’t five minutes before I heard the roar of a Harley and I looked out the front windows to watch Buck, followed by Gear in his Nova, tearing down the drive.
I pulled in a deep breath.
Then I pulled in another one.
After letting go of the third, I hurried to the bathroom.
I jerked awake when Tatiana was gently pulled out of my arms.
It was light, just dawn, and I shifted to see Buck settling his daughter against his big frame. He was on top of the covers. He still had his boots on. There was blood on his shirt and on his hands, especially around the knuckles.
I knew what that meant.
Earlier, after I soothingly talked her into letting me take pictures of her with my phone, I’d cleaned up Tatiana and got ice for her eye and her lip. I held her as she held the ice to her face and slowly, stiltedly told me about the three boys who attacked her.
Three.
There had been three.
God, it was a miracle she’d been able to get away.
Then, my stomach burning with a despair so deep I wondered how I could move, fury so great I wondered how I didn’t combust, all of it I felt for a pretty, spirited, sixteen-year-old girl who didn’t really like me, I helped her to the shower. While she was showering, I shoved her clothes in a plastic grocery bag and hid them in Buck’s closet.
Once she got out, I helped her into her pjs, sat her on the toilet and combed her hair for her.
I then followed her to bed, got in it with her and rocked her, speaking softly to her until she fell asleep.
Now Buck was home.
“Get your ass to bed,” he ordered quietly to me, but it wasn’t a gentle order, it was a command.
Tatiana’s head came back, and she looked up at her dad.
“Can she stay?” Tatiana whispered, and Buck looked down at her.
“No,” he answered his daughter then his eyes came up to pierce me.
I bit my lip and gathered enough courage to slide Tatiana’s hair off her neck and give her a squeeze.
After I did that, I slid out of her bed and went to Buck’s.
I pulled the covers up high and stared at the pillow.
It didn’t take long before I twisted so my face was in the pillow, and forcing myself to be silent, I burst into tears.