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The big house stood guard at the end of the street, its massive bulk keeping watch over all the homes on Cross Street. At least, that’s the way Gerritt pictured it as a child.
His father bought the original house back before meeting his mother and lived in it with his cousin Grace and a dozen empty rooms. The year after the O’Fallens moved in, the house burnt to the ground. Undeterred, he’d rebuilt it even larger. People thought his father crazy, said that two families couldn’t live there together, but, for those inside, it made sense.
He couldn’t imagine growing up any other way. Michael and Anne were as much parents to him as his own, and their children, young Michael and Maire, like his brother and sister. It would be different to not come home there, not be in this town, in this state, to not have contact with these people who were his family. Given he could convince his mother to let him go, that is.
He entered the house, glad to have reached it after the long walk from the atrium, and climbed the stairs, turning left on the landing toward his room. But halfway there, sobs reached his ears. Standing in the entrance to Maire’s bedroom, he searched the darkness for her. But the bed was empty and the chair in the corner as well.
“Maire?” He stepped inside and cast his gaze along the floor.
She curled into a ball at the sight of him, tossing her hands up over her face.
“Maire? It’s me, Gerritt. What’s wrong?” Because something was very, very wrong.
Gerritt lowered himself into the floor beside her and reached out his hand, but she cowered back, pulling tighter against the bed frame. Concerned, he slid closer, gingerly taking hold of her shoulders and tugging her away. She screamed at his touch and flailed her arms, only yielding when he cradled her in his lap and tucked her hands to his chest.
With one hand, he stroked her head, his throat dry. What had made her this way? “Maire,” he whispered. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
But she didn’t, whimpering in her throat.
He cast back to the moments before he’d left. Maire had stared at him, moon-eyed, as she was wont to do. She and Michael had made their usual jabs at each other. What had happened between then and now?
Gerritt gazed around the room, weighing his options. They couldn’t continue to sit on the floor. Perhaps if he could see her, he’d know ... something. He shifted his weight. “I’m going to stand up and put you in your bed,” he said.
Without pause, he struggled to his feet, hoisting her in his arms, and settled her on the mattress. Lighting a lamp, he revolved in her direction, and the sight of her pummeled him in the gut. She wore her party dress, an expensive silk gown he’d seen her in last Christmas. But, the hem was torn and blood splotched the skirt.
Gerritt trembled. “Maire? Look at me.” He knelt at the side of the bed.
She raised her face, her eyes red and cheeks damp. A strand of her hair wrapped limp around her throat.
“Did someone ... hurt you?” Though he asked, he knew the answer. Someone had, someone male, and he’d taken the most valuable piece of her. Misery and anguish swam in her gaze. “Who?” he asked.
Whoever he was, her father would kill the man. He’d hate to be on the other end of Michael O’Fallen’s anger.
She shut her eyes, unspeaking, and he sighed. He should find Michael, but that meant leaving her here alone. Then again, what choice did he have?
Gerritt stood to his feet. “I’ll go find Michael,” he said. He turned his back to her and walked toward the door.
But she let out a soul-tearing wail. “No ... please. No one can know.”
He halted. “Maire, I can’t possibly ...” Keep this from your family. Gerritt finished the thought in his head. That was unthinkable and the consequences too great. “Your father ...” he began.
Maire scrambled from the bed, clawing at his arm. “You can’t tell, not him, not anyone. Promise me.”
Promise? How could he promise that? How could he keep something so horrific a secret?
“You can’t tell anyone, not that I left home, not about the dress. Nothing.”
He curved one arm around her shoulders. “What am I supposed to do then? What are we supposed to do?” He corrected himself. Because now, he was drawn into it.
Her answer sent his blood racing into his shoes.
“Don’t leave me. Stay here.”
Stay here? It was unthinkable. Granted, she was like a sister to him, yet she was not a sister to him.
“Please, Gerritt. No one will know. Michael said he’ll be out all night, and none of our parents are home.”
“But ... what would you have me to do? We can’t stay in the same bed.”
“The chair. You can sleep in the chair.” Her sobs returned. “Don’t leave me.” Tears streaking her cheeks, she crumpled. “What if he comes back? What if he looks for me ...?” Hysteria pushed at her voice.
Gerritt pulled Maire tighter in his arms. “There’s no one here to get you. It’s just you and me. I promise you’re safe.”
His words went unheeded. His shirt wadded up in her fist, she dug into him. “Just one night. One night, and tomorrow ... tomorrow I’ll be better.”
She cried softly on his chest, her tears leaving damp patches on his skin, and he waffled. What would the others do if they were here? Any of them would stay with her, he reasoned.
“I’ll have to leave early,” he said, “otherwise Michael might return and find us.” He swallowed hard at that image. Exactly how would he explain being in her room? “And you need to change,” he continued. “There’s ...” The rest of his words caught in his throat.
Her gaze changed, innocent, perplexed. “There’s what?”
He dipped his chin toward her clothing. “Blood ... on ... on your dress.”
Her lip trembled once more. Gerritt cupped her chin in his hand. “Maire, what happened?”
Tears spilled over her cheeks, dampening his fingertips.
“I was only doing a f-favor. It was supposed to be for an hour. Then they’d bring me home. But he ... he wouldn’t stop and I ... I couldn’t escape.” She buried her face in his chest. “I threatened him, but he didn’t care. I think he liked it better knowing who Papa was.”
Gerritt’s blood boiled. “Who? Who did this to you?” He’d deal with this person. If she wouldn’t let him tell anyone else, at least she could tell him, and he’d find the scoundrel, see that he knew there was a price to pay.
However, her voice emerged in a whine. “I just want to forget. Please, Gerritt.”
She wouldn’t say, at least not now. Maybe if he gave her time ...
He laid one hand on the back of her head. “Why don’t you change? Give me the dress, and I’ll dispose of it.”
He left the room, and she obeyed. But outside the door, he argued with himself all over again. Why was he agreeing to this? Was one night really all it’d take for her to forget it? Why did he think it’d be much longer?
Gerritt pulled in a breath. He couldn’t go there. Right now, she needed him, and that was all that mattered.
She walked in darkness so thick she couldn’t see the trees around her or the sides of the lake, though she heard the water sloshing on the banks. She looked behind her, listening for the footsteps she’d heard only moments ago. But they stopped when she did.
She headed for the dock. If she could reach it, she’d be safe. The lake would be behind her and whatever this was to the front. She pushed herself forward, her shoes plunging into the mud, the soles making sucking noises as she moved.
She reached the dock, and her boots slapped the wooden boards, the sound magnified in the black night. There, Maire breathed out relief. She’d walk to the end where no one could surprise her.
Her heartbeat increased to a gallop with her footsteps, each thump a herd of horses flying through her chest, and she mashed a hand there to still it. But, her hand met with someone else’s, and the word came again.
This. This. This. This. This.
Maire awoke with a scream, terror scratching at her throat and beat against the hands wrapped around her shoulders. He was after her. He would take her again. She choked on her sobs, coughing and sputtering with her lost breath.
The gentle rocking motion of someone holding her broke into her dream. His arms tucking her tight, his legs firm beneath hers, her mind cleared, and gradually, she saw the room, the same four walls she had lived in for nineteen years, same dresser, same mirror, same bed.
The hands cradling her came into view. Gerritt Finnegan. She was safe at home with him. Gerritt would protect her. She had nothing to worry about.
And with that knowledge, she drifted off to sleep.
Gerritt stared down at Maire in the early morning sunlight. Her cheek plastered to his skin, her hair scattered around her face, she was amazingly beautiful. Now she was at peace, the terror that struck her during the night stilled by his presence in her bed.
Her bed. Not a place he’d ever thought he would find himself. But what was the harm? He had no designs on her, and her brother would have done the same. Yet, the idea Michael would find him here made him wince. He had to leave, go back to his own bedroom. He should have done so earlier, except he didn’t want to disturb her.
He waited for a moment, reluctant to wake her, then shook her gently, brushing her hair from her face. She stirred, her body warm, her curves pressed fully against him, and stretched out a hand, languorous, cupping it around his waist.
Nervous, he tried again. “Maire, wake up.”
Her eyelids flickered and she moistened her lips. “Gerritt?” Her voice slurred with sleep, she yawned, exposing pearly white teeth. “You were here all night?”
He brought a weak smile to his face. “It looks that way.”
She shifted away from him and sat up. The place where her body had been caught the air and cooled. “I ... thank you.”
Awkward silence arose. Or was it only in his head? As small children, the three of them, she, Michael, and himself, had slept side-by-side many times, but that was long ago.
She tugged at her night dress, and he looked away. He’d also seen her wearing that before, but from a distance. Up close was different. Revealing.
“Michael.” She shot up from bed, her eyes wide. “He ... he’ll be here soon, and ...” Her countenance changed, the events of last evening flashing across her face, and tears pooled in her lashes. Her legs wobbling, she sank to the floor.
Bending her head over her lap, she wept. “I’m ruined. Ruined.”
His heart broke for her. A girl’s purity was meant to be shared with a man who loved her, not to be stripped bare and taken away.
Her cries escalated. “What am I to do? No man will want me now.” Her words stopped short, and a chill crept into the atmosphere. She lifted her face to his. “What if ... What if I’m with child?” Her hands trembled and the movement transferred itself to her limbs, violent, raging.
He lifted her from the floor. “Don’t think of that,” he said.
Don’t think of it because he couldn’t think of it, because it would complicate things, and she didn’t deserve it. Gerritt shut his eyes, his chin rested on the top of her head. Please, God, he prayed, don’t let that come true.
“You two are chummy this morning.” Michael leaned back against the wall in the kitchen, his feet hiked on the table.
Maire shot him a look and swiped at his toes. “Feet on the floor. Mama would get onto you for doing that.”
He laughed, not moving, and fixed his gaze on Gerritt. Gerritt returned it. He could hold his own where Michael O’Fallen was concerned.
“Maybe you should concentrate on your breakfast,” Gerritt said. And not so much on your sister. He let the thought rest, unspoken, in the forefront of his mind.
“Maybe you should explain why I caught you coming from her bedroom.”
Gerritt tightened his grip on the spoon, the scalloped edge of the metal digging into his palm.
“I had a bad dream,” Maire said, “and he was concerned about me. Not like you were here.”
“Never known you to need saving before.”
To Gerritt’s eyes, she looked shattered, her skin pale, her eyes red. But she put up a brave front.
“It was worse than usual,” Maire said.
Her brother had no idea how much worse. Gerritt batted the thought around, then buried it, returning to his breakfast.
“But never mind me,” she said, her voice too cheerful. “Where exactly did you go?”
Michael eyed her. “I told you not to read that trash.”
She raised her fork, the tines pointed at his throat. “Leave. Me. Be.”
Throwing his hands up in surrender, Michael exhaled. “Gee, Sis. You really didn’t get much sleep?”
Her head dipped low over her food. “No.”
Neither had he. Gerritt held in a yawn. That’s all he needed, to look sleepy. He’d walked out of her bedroom this morning straight into Michael’s path. Needless to say, that created quite a stir, one he couldn’t adequately explain, so he hadn’t tried. They were used to him not speaking anyway.
Michael folded his arms behind his head. “I’m sorry then. Mama and Papa will return this evening, and she’ll pray with you.”
Mention of their parents was the last thing she needed because her head dipped still lower and a salty drop dripped onto her food. Michael didn’t notice, but Gerritt did. This wasn’t good. If she didn’t pull herself together, it would all come out.
“So I heard a rumor about you?”Gerritt said, fixing his gaze on Michael. Michael’s eyes flared bright. “I heard you were seen with Helen.”
Michael’s hand descended on the table with a crash and the plates and silverware rattled. Maire jumped in place.
“Where’d you hear that?” he snapped.
Gerritt restrained a smile. Helen Dawson. Two hundred pounds of forceful, giggling, womanhood. “A little birdie told me,” he said.
“I’d like to kill that little birdie.”
This time he did smile. Michael was easily provoked, a fact he’d used in his favor more than once.
“Same little birdie told me she proposed to you.”
“She never ... I never ... This gets all over town, and I’ll never get rid of it. Helen Dawson. Honestly.”
Gerritt cast Maire a look. Gratitude was written all over her face. He smiled at her and looked away. He’d keep her secret, as he’d pledged, and hope and pray over time she would forget, that things would go back to normal. Yet, in his heart, he knew better. Something had changed in her, and something had changed between them, something he didn’t fully understand nor know how to deal with.
What would happen in the days ahead? His own future hung in the balance, and now he also had Maire to contend with. He couldn’t very well mention leaving and moving away within her hearing. She’d collapse. She barely held herself together as it was.
He’d have to wait and hope and pray the right moment came.
She couldn’t bathe enough, couldn’t scrub her skin hard enough, couldn’t soak long enough to remove the filth that adhered to her. But, she tried. She tried so hard, in fact, that her flesh puckered and scalded red. Then, she dressed in the rattiest outfit she could find. She didn’t want to look pretty when she felt so hideous. Couldn’t everyone see the horrible stain her life had become?
Despite the sunshine, despite the beautiful day and the blue clouds sweeping over the sky, Maire walked all morning in a gloom she couldn’t remove, fear dogging her footsteps into the afternoon.
Michael was suspicious. He eyeballed her continually. As a result, Gerritt found only one opportunity to speak with her out of his hearing. He’d caught her in the hallway between the foyer and the kitchen and pulled her aside.
“Are you all right?” he’d asked.
She’d tried to hold herself together, but somehow his voice laid the issue bare and the tears returned. He’d wiped them away with the heel of his hand. “Maire, I’m worried about you.”
She’d offered him a faltering smile. He’d sighed and drawn her to him. Michael’s voice from the stairs had sent them scampering.
When nightfall came, her trepidation arose. Her parents would return any moment, and they would know something was wrong. They always did. Plus, even if she managed to dodge them, there was the night to contend with. The hours stretched out long before her, the possibility of having another awful dream hanging pendulous over her head. Finally, unable to deal with the pressure, she locked herself in her room and sobbed until her throat grew raw.
Her mother’s gentle voice caused her to stop. Swiping hastily at her cheeks, Maire forced a smile to her lips and rose from the corner of the room. She inhaled and opened the door.
Her mother’s blue eyes bore into her own. “Michael says you’ve been ill.”
On impulse, Maire leaned over and hugged her, averting her face. Her mama was too perceptive. If she looked at her directly, her face would reveal everything. “Perhaps it was something I ate.” She pulled herself free, hasty to switch the subject. “How was your trip? Papa impressed the crowds?”
Her mama’s face changed, a smile creeping on her lips. “Your father was most uncooperative, but then isn’t he always?”
“Is someone talking about me?”
At his voice, Maire squealed and raced into his arms. He swept her up and mashed her to his chest.
“A stóirín,” he said. My treasure.
“Papa, I missed you.” She always missed him. He was so full of life and that life gathered people to him.
“And I missed you.” He set her back on the floor. “What’s this about not feeling well?”
She gazed at her feet. “It’s nothing. My ... food didn’t agree with me, and I didn’t sleep.” She diverted the conversation once more. “You didn’t behave?”
His mouth curved into a crooked grin. “That depends on who you ask.”
“You should ask me,” her mother said.
Maire smiled despite her dark mood. Her parents picked on each other continually, but it was always out of love. No two people loved each other more than they did.
She hooked her arm through his and turned him around. “Well, I want to hear it and judge for myself, but maybe Michael would like to weigh in as well, so why don’t we go downstairs?”