Help Her Page 3

  Her beautiful, blue eyes left my face the second my words came out. It all sounded too rehearsed. I didn't doubt that Tamara had begged her daughter to be cordial to me once she learned I was the man her husband brought home, and that truth hurt me more than I cared to admit.

  Celeste pushed the door open, filling my ears with Paul's angry voice.

  "What were you two doing on the street anyway?"

  I stopped in the doorway, hesitant to step into a place I obviously wasn't welcome anymore. Celeste took a few steps into the living room, and turned to me when she noticed I wasn't following. Her face contorted into confusion, and I smiled.

  "I think I'll just leave."

  She licked her lips while her expression softened. I just about fell back when she walked over and put her hand on my forearm. Though her touch was cold, the softness in her skin comforted me.

  "My dad loves to voice his opinions. He'd like to put my mother and me under lock and key if he could.” Her blue eyes, hidden behind thick eyelashes, connected with mine. “We want you here. Both my mother and I would be pleased if you stay for dinner."

  I tipped my head in acceptance, though still unsure if this was a good idea.

  To my relief, Celeste didn't remove her hand from my arm. She led the way into the kitchen, just around the corner from the living room. Paintings and crafts decorated the walls, giving everything a cozy sense. The small, comfortable home looked remodeled, and I marveled at the craftsmanship.

  "This is my house, and I would appreciate some respect!"

  Celeste cleared her throat. Tamara and Paul entered the dining room. I caught the hint of a glare the second the fridge ceased to block me from his view. Soon enough though, he smiled and laughed.

  "I guess I don't need to introduce you to my wife and daughter. Fate must want you at our home, Cameron.” All the curtains were closed, though the sun hadn't set. “I'm fuzzy on the details. How did you meet my family?"

  "Celeste about scared him to death with her cat chasing,” Tamara explained.

  I brightened at their rush to dole out the information. Celeste's fingers shift on my arm when I transferred my weight to my left leg. Her father eyed the physical contact between us. Suspicion and anger entered his hazel eyes, and I held my breath.

  "Mr. West is all the way here from North Carolina,” Celeste explained to her father, who grimaced at the information he already knew. I grinned, wondering how much her mother and she had talked about me before my arrival to their home. I wondered what her father thought of it all. The tone in his daughter's voice sounded anything but how I expected someone to respond to their parent. Celeste gave the information like a tutor would—bland, yet trying to drive the information into his skull.

  "Cameron, please make yourself comfortable,” Tamara offered. “I'll bring the food out.” She faced her husband and smiled, though his hostile eyes never changed. The scowl looked painted on, and I hurried to look away.

  "I think Mr. West will agree that a man's women should be kept inside.” He stopped long enough to glare at his daughter. “Frolicking after a cat that'll probably get hit by a car anyway is pointless."

  She bit her lip and averted her eyes.

  "Well, sit down won't you.” Paul stared at me, the friendly businessman gone. I assumed my saving grace was the fact that I had given him my credit card number earlier for the repairs. Anyone else as stubborn and ornery as him would've kicked my ass out in two seconds flat.

  Celeste directed me to the table and the chair opposite the kitchen and her dad.

  "I think it'll be better this way,” she leaned over and whispered to me. The soft laugh that followed erased my unease, and I beamed back at her. As I started to sit down, her fingernails dug into my skin. “Stop!"

  I rushed back to my standing position, afraid I had done yet another thing wrong.

  "Shadow, get down from there."

  I stared at the black cat perched on my seat and laughed.

  "Get a leash on that damn animal, Celeste,” Paul's strong voice yelled.

  "It's not a problem. I just need to watch where I sit from now on."

  "Mr. West, I'd appreciate you not interfering with how I raise my child."

  I clenched my teeth, feeling my own anger rise.

  "Paul, please,” Tamara begged. “Supper's ready. Let's eat."

  He sat down in the chair at the head of the table as Tamara set a bowl of hot rolls in front of me. The smell intoxicated me, and my stomach growled. Both women laughed. Paul acted as if he hadn't noticed.

  Mashed potatoes, gravy, and pork roast landed on the table next. Celeste helped her mother with the side dishes, and then both women took their places around the table, Tamara's on the other end of her husband, Celeste tucked against the wall opposite of me.

  Together the women bowed their heads in grace. I hurried to reciprocate the action, however the table shook and I looked up. Paul spooned a huge mound of mashed potatoes on his plate while glaring at his wife.

  "Prayers are ridiculous, woman."

  I waited, wondering how Tamara would respond to the comment. Her lips muttered a few silent words before she lifted her head. Heartbreak defined her face, and I wondered what I could do to help.

  I opened my mouth to protest the uncouth ways of her husband, but she spoke first. “Please, help yourself, Mr. West.” She blinked, and her stare found Celeste. The young woman bit down on her bottom lip again. “It's okay,” Tamara whispered, rubbing her wrist.

  Celeste's blank gaze moved to her plate.

  Everyone passed the serving dishes in a hurry. Paul slammed the ones coming from his side into my hand, but I did nothing. I knew it wouldn't do any good for me to upset him.

  "So, what is it that you do, Cameron?"

  When my name left Tamara's mouth, Paul groaned.

  I ignored it. “I deal with the stock market. I advise people and work with my own stocks.” The second I heard scoffing, I added, “Some days I make over ten thousand dollars. Other times the risks outweigh the rewards, and I lose some on my investments. It's a very complicated business."

  "Anyone can pick a business and hope it succeeds,” Paul interjected.

  How can this be the same man who had so generously helped me a half hour ago?

  Celeste picked at her food. She took maybe three bites, and they were small spoonfuls at that. Looking at her frame again, I couldn't help but wonder if she was anorexic. She lifted her head, and became aware of my stare. Her silverware clanked down on the plate and she stood up.

  "I'm not very hungry.” With that, she grabbed her plate, full of food, and marched into the kitchen. She set the untouched meal in the sink and rushed into the hall adjacent to the dining room.

  "Do you like staring at little girls?” Paul asked me, his tone defensive.

  I shook my head, more to clear the insinuation he presented than in reply.

  "Paul, don't,” Tamara urged. Her shoulder length auburn hair fell over her face when she hunched up close against the table's ledge. Her eyes focused in on her husband, and I wondered if I should've left with Celeste.

  "Fine!” Slamming his palms on the table, he stood. “You shouldn't have left the house, gallivanting for all the men to see. Do you want to have an affair, Tamara?” His glowering infuriated me. Never had I seen a husband pierce the one he loved that way. Not even when my wife and I were having problems did I stoop to that low. Instead of interfering, I studied the pool of gravy on my mashed potatoes.

  "I'll go check on your car, Mr. West. You'll be wanting to leave soon no doubt."

  I heard loud footsteps clump on the floor, followed by a thunderous banging of the front door. The silence was palpable after that. I raised my head a few inches, the numbness in Tamara's features raising red flags my way.

  "He act like that often?” I asked, my knuckles white under the table.

  She sighed, her eyes glued to the front door.

  "Has he ever hurt you or Celeste?” I'd always been a caregiver,
someone who couldn't stand back and watch when someone stood in harm's way. More times than not, it got me in trouble. Many bruises and a few broken bones were my reward for stepping in where I wasn't welcome. “Or does he choose to attack you with verbal abuse only?"

  "Paul can be a good guy. He sometimes—"

  "Anyone can be a good person at times, Tamara. Has he ever hit you?"

  The tiniest tear escaped out of the corner of her eye, and I couldn't stop myself from reaching over and wiping it away with my thumb. She looked fragile, a different woman than the one calling out to her daughter earlier that day.

  "My father doesn't care about us. He just wants the perfect family for show."

  Tamara and I looked up at the entryway. Celeste leaned against, her arms folded tightly against her stomach. The thought of her being anorexic again washed over me. These two women are in need of help. What can I do?

  "He means well.” Tamara took a deep breath and straightened out her peach tunic. Her eyes moved from her daughter over to me. “Paul's been working hard this past month."

  I ignored her. “Celeste, has he hurt you?"

  The tall girl jerked her head back and forth, her ponytail flicking with the motion. “All I do is put up with his rage.” She looked at her mother. “It's my mom I'm worried about. She never seems happy, and I don't blame her. My dad says the most awful things to her."

  "Tamara?"

  "Mr. West, I hate to rush you, but it'd be better if you finished your dinner and left. Someone at his shop can come pick you up.” She stood up and began clearing the table.

  I looked up at Celeste. Her eyes stared off into space.

  "I'm sorry for the trouble I've caused."

  "Oh, no, Cameron, this wasn't your fault. If not you, something else would've set Paul off. I swear that man's not happy unless he's fighting.” She smiled through tight lips. “Where are you staying tonight?"

  "I'll find a local hotel if I don't decide to keep driving."

  "You should stay,” Celeste said, her voice soft and timid. She pointed to the windows unleashing the darkening sky. “It's not safe to travel at night. I wouldn't want you to get in an accident."

  Tamara touched my shoulder once I stood.

  "You're the first person she's really interacted with in awhile,” she whispered once Celeste walked down the hall and we heard a door close. “You must have a special touch.” She smiled.

  A honk outside drew our attention.

  "That must be Travis. He's my husband's assistant."

  I nodded, not quite sure what all was happening, except that I was being kicked out. As much as I wanted to help, another part of me thanked the lord that I got to leave this destructive household. I dug around in my pocket and pulled out my business card.

  "Call if you need anything. I mean that, Tamara."

  She smiled and set the card on the desk in the corner littered with mail.

  "It was nice to meet you. I hope you have a wonderful stay in Montana."

  I looked her over one last time, hoping that she would be all right, and then marched out to the silver car in the driveway. Travis seemed cheerful enough, but my worry didn't fade. I looked up and noticed Celeste staring out the window at me as I left her life for good.

  * * * *

  The cold motel room filled me with loneliness. The tiny space consisted of a bed, nightstand, and an old TV and three local channels, which provided no means of escape. Every other night during my vacation I had stayed in a high class hotel, treating myself to luxuries I'd never known. Once I got my car back, I had planned on driving until I was as far away from this place as possible. However, something warned me to stay, and I stopped at the first motel I could find.

  Awkwardness suffocated me like the summer heat in North Carolina. Should I forget this vacation and return home, back to my safe and boring existence? Or was there a reason Jeremy worked so hard to bring me here? Lying on the bed, I looked at the clock. 2:19 a.m.

  I sighed and turned, away from the red numbers. Why did I leave that house when those two women needed some kind of hope so badly? The question stung, and I tried to push it away.

  Just as my eyelids closed and sleep threatened to claim me, my cell phone rang. I jumped up, my heart doing somersaults by the second. I cursed myself for not putting the ringer on vibrate. My aching joints cussed me out for sleeping on an uncomfortable bed other than my own.

  "Hello.” My voice sounded groggy.

  A high pitch scream in the background blared into my ear, and I pulled the phone back a few inches. My hand shook as the shriek ended. Hesitation wrapped around me like the AC in the room when I brought the cell back to my face.

  "Please, Paul, I'm sorry."

  I recognized Tamara's voice, and shuddered at what I knew I was hearing.

  "I don't want you ever talking to strange men again, you hear?” he yelled.

  "Celeste, are you there?” I asked, swinging my legs over the bed. My feet jammed into my boots in one hurried motion. “Hello, Celeste, is that you?” I thought to ask if it was Jeremy, but the idea of giving that information to anyone filled me with fear. I had seen firsthand what a mess Celeste was because of her brother's disappearance, and I didn't want to give her information that might cause an even bigger catastrophe then the one I listened in on.

  "He's going to kill her this time,” a soft, female voice warned.

  A rush of relief washed over me to hear her voice. “Celeste, call the cops."

  "I can't do that because he—"

  I ignored the sniffles on the other end of the phone and raced out the room.

  "Give me your address and I'll call the police."

  "No, Cameron! You're all I have."

  Paul's thunderous voice echoed in my ear. “Who the hell are you calling, girl?"

  "Don't hang up, Celeste. I'm on my way."

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood up when I heard the cat hiss and scream. Paul and Celeste's yells overlapped each other next. Some kind of pounding made my stomach tighten.

  "If you hurt her, I'll kill you,” I shouted into the phone.

  The line went dead, and I screamed out my frustrations. I jumped in the car and slammed my foot on the gas. The image of Tamara's bloody body on the kitchen floor and Paul moving on to Celeste haunted my mind.

  I pulled up to the dark, silent house in no time, thanking the Lord small towns possessed little traffic at night. The sight of the gray truck filled me with rage, and I had to keep myself from ramming into it.

  Fear strangled me. My heartbeat racked through my body as I visualized what lay inside the stone cold house. I couldn't remember running so fast, my hand stretching for the door. Finding it locked, I cried out.

  Most houses have a spare key right next to the door. I'd read that somewhere. I picked up the rug, feeling stupid. The butterfly and flowers ceramic figurine was next. Nothing.

  "Damn it.” I twisted the handle again and groaned.

  My eyes darted back and forth until I stopped on something. I lifted the pot under the mailbox and found a spare key. My fingers wasted no time, and I dashed inside. Whimpers drew my attention, and I followed the sound to the back of the house.

  I inched the door open.

  "He's not in here,” a soft voice said. “Go help Celeste."

  My eyes found Tamara crouched on the floor. Blood and bruises covered her forehead, lips and cheeks. A ratty mess of clothes clung to her body. Her arms hugged her stomach, and I approached.

  A scream broke me out of my thoughts. I sprinted to it.

  This time I didn't hesitate to open the door.

  "You little bitch,” Paul screamed as he lashed his belt at her exposed back. The snapping noise on flesh made my insides churn. The delicate, pink room looked like the backdrop for any other scene except this one.

  The fisted hand swung again, but I grabbed his forearm. “Don't you dare!"

  Celeste crumbled to the floor, the back of her hooded sweatshirt still up. Tears streame
d down her face, and she leaned forward. My eyes found the black cat lying limp on the beige carpet as she reached and picked him up.

  "You heartless bastard,” I spat in Paul's face.

  His heated hazel eyes found me. “You're the one trespassing."

  If not for my strong grip on his arm, I knew he would have decked me. His left hand rose, but I grabbed the fist before it posed a threat. I thrust my knee into his gut and pushed him out into the hallway, proud and grateful that I'd kept in shape all these years.

  "You're going to leave now, or else I will be forced to call the cops."

  He spit on me.

  I couldn't refrain from punching him hard in the eye. The huge man fell to his knees, but I picked him up and threw him out of the house. I noticed the car keys on the table, and I opened the door long enough to chuck them at him.

  I shut and locked the door just as Celeste's sobs echoed through the house.

  Please let that cat be okay. Please!

  I stumbled into the hallway, where I met Tamara again.

  Her face looked like it went through a meat grinder, and the way she clutched her stomach filled me with worry about internal injuries. “We need to get you to the hospital."

  She shook her head and entered her daughter's room. I followed.

  "Celeste, I am so sorry.” Tamara crouched down next to her.

  I leaned against the doorframe, and took long, deep breaths to try and calm down. Ten, long, wide crimson stripes painted the young woman's back, some of them raw and bleeding where the belt buckle had snapped the skin. I had to avoid the thoughts tempting me to chase Paul down and strangle him.

  When she turned her face, I could see the bloody lip and her own hand marked crimson that petted the unmoving black cat in her lap. Tamara looked up at me and shook her head. I sighed, frustrated that the one joy she had suffered the consequences for trying to save her. The lifeless pet reciprocated no affection other than the soft fur her fingers raked through.

  "Celeste, sweetheart, we need to get you out of here."

  "Shadow was just protecting me,” she whispered, tears coating her red cheeks.

  "I want you to do something for me,” Tamara said. I wasn't sure if she spoke to me or her daughter, given her blank stare directed at the wall. Her swollen face tilted up to me.