Chapter 3
Chapter Three
GRACE
H ot tears roll across the broken skin of my cheek and set it stinging. Hands firm around the wheel, I squint through puffy eyes and unshed tears into the dark night. Blue’s tiny headlights are all but useless. But I can’t stop now. I refuse.
The constant rattle of the VW engine soothes the hurt in my chest and drives me forward. With only the bag I packed and half of the cash from my mom, I head for the county line. Praying Joel and Timmy are too drunk to follow. If they do, my next prayer is that the cops find them before they find me.
Northbound, I hold up my phone and reread the job post for a cleaner somewhere on a Montana ranch. That should be enough distance to keep Joel from looking for me. Or being bothered to come find me, at any rate. With only half the money Mama sent, I will have to use it all for gas. Luckily, Blue travels light in that department.
Should I run short, I will have to either splash and dash or earn some more money to fund the rest of the trip. I guess the best place to stop would be somewhere closer to Montana, but math has never been my strong suit. So, I’ll drive until I can’t, then figure it out.
When I’m a little past Little Rock, I pull over into a rest stop and lock the doors. It’s well past two in the morning and my eyes struggle to stay open. Killing the engine, I twist the flared seat knob and lean back, following the seat back as it reclines. Just an hour or so and I can keep going...
Something hits the window in rapid succession.
I jolt up on the seat, eyes wide as I stare up into the face of an older man. His police uniform is immaculate, his hand still a fist by the window. The sun glares through the smudged glass of Blue’s windshield, halfway up the pale sky already.
Shit.
Clearing my throat and fixing my hair, I roll down the window. Blue’s old mechanism sticks, and I have to push the glass down as it retracts. “Sorry, Officer, did I do something wrong?”
His focus shifts to the damage on my face.
Heat soars up my neck and flushes through my cheeks.
“You heading somewhere, hon? Or you need help?”
“I—” Breaking his gaze, I drop my eyes to the steering wheel. “I’m fine, just got tired and needed to pull over, that’s all.”
“Well, you can’t sleep here.”
“I know. Won’t happen again, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry, be safe.” He digs a hand into his hip pocket. “Here’s my card if you decide you need my help.” With a not-so-subtle nod to my face, he forces a smile and returns to his police vehicle. I curl my hand around the card. Any luck, I won’t ever need help with Joel again. Too scared to have called the cops the last few times, I suck in a lungful of air, reminding myself I got out.
I left.
Maybe eighteen months later than I should have. But I did.
Better late than never, right?
There is a sliver of me that hurts for the relationship I lost. The one I was still fighting for, even up until the last moment. For the guy I fell for at almost nineteen. The sweet, charismatic, and spontaneous man. Now, his words that turned vile when he found the money Mama sent for my birthday hook into my mind, talons sharp and deep, over and over.
“The fuck, Grace? You had this? You hiding money from me now?”
“No! I—Mama, she sent it to me. I swear.” I hate the weakness stealing my voice.
“Your mom?” Incredulous words twist his face into a facade of utter disbelief. “That bitch wouldn’t send you anthrax tied up in lit fuse. Don’t lie to me!”
His roar scares me, more so than ever before. Terror snakes down my spine as his hands turn to fists at his sides. I scramble backward, heading for the en suite door. My back slams into the door and I snap around as it opens and weave through it, turning the lock as the air in my lungs turns to ragged sobs. I try to calm my racing heart.
He’ll cool down.
It’s fine.
I’ll show him the card and ? —
The door rattles at my back under his thundering fists.
FUCK.
Fear turns to fire racing up my spine. A tremble starts in my hands and spreads through my body. I hunt for something to defend myself with. A disposable razor, a toothbrush. The sum total of the available weapons.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“Grace! Open this fucking door. NOW!”
Don’t open the door, Grace.
Do not open that door.
My hand reaches for the knob as doubt creeps in. And my stupid emotional brain overrides my fear. The second the door leaves the jamb, Joel is in my space. Hands clamp down on my wrists with an iron grip. “Half of the money is mine. Don’t care where you got it.”
“But—I told you . . .”
His sarcastic laugh bounces off the tile in the small space. Forced backward, I hit the vanity with my hip.
“Joel, please. Stop.”
“Why? You lie and steal and make me out to be the bad guy, hey?”
“No, I didn’t ? —”
“Stop lying!”
“I’m sorry, please!” I lean in, curling into myself, torn between the need to run and my freeze-induced reaction.
His hands snap from my wrists, dragging my bracelet with them. The chain snaps and charms clink onto the tiles. All I can do is hug myself. With nowhere to go to put space between us, I wait, not daring to breathe.
He turns and walks to the bed and snatches up the wad of cash. All of it.
“For lying, this all belongs to me now. And you can stay in this room and wait until Timmy and me are ready for you.”
God, no . . .
I struggle to tamp down the sob clawing up my throat. A mangled whimper slips past my lips. He stalks back to the bathroom, eyes dark and mouth twisted into something cruel. Something I’ve seen on him before. His knuckles smash over my cheekbone a heartbeat later.
I teeter and slam into the vanity. His back is all I see as I slide to the floor. Shock steals the air from my lungs, the burn and ache swelling on my left cheek and eye sending ugly sobs through my chest. I glance around at the shining silver charms and links of broken chain and release a whimper as I scrape them together.
“No. No. No.”
The sun burns through my windshield and sweat trickles over my brow, sinking to my busted face. It stings. I wipe the salty sweat from my face with the hem of my tank top and pull in a ragged breath.
I got out.
Slamming my eyes closed, I force down the fear that’s been repeating on me since his hand met my face. Somehow, I managed to wait him and Timmy out. Once they passed out, I grabbed what I could, the money he’d left on the kitchen table that was littered with bottles.
I got the money back. Well over half, at least. Stole my keys from his front pocket. That act alone almost cost me an aneurysm from the nerves racking my body as I slid a shaking hand into his jeans. Finally, I fired up Blue and got the hell outta dodge.
Not a moment too soon.
That part of my life is done. Boxed up and stored away. Destined to grow moldy and forgotten in some dank, dark attic. Maybe a rat-riddled basement. Never to be bothered with again. After fixing my seat, I lean forward and turn the keys in the ignition. The police vehicle is still behind me. Most likely waiting until I drive away. Evidence there are some good ones out in the world. I pull onto the highway and adjust my seat a little more, pulling the belt over my chest and clicking it in.
Next stop, Kansas.
Time to get my ducks in a row.
My gun-shy, frazzled, and battered ducks.
Leave.
Find work.
Sleep in Blue until I can find a place to rent.
The job posting I found in Montana sounds perfect. If there’s one thing I can do, it’s clean. I just pray Blue makes it to the mountains. I pray I make it.
I will.
I have to.
Going home to my parents isn’t an option. Even now. Especially now. Going home with my tail between my legs after they tried to get me to see I was making a huge mistake isn’t something I can bring myself to do. No, if this is rock bottom, I’m making the most of it.
Fresh start.
New life.
New possibilities.
As far away from Mississippi as possible.
I wince as the smile that tugs on my lips with the glimmer of hope aches the left side of my face. With a heavy heart and shredded soul, I put all my focus into making it across the county line and into the next state. Then the one after that.
A large wooden arch towers over the entrance of the ranch.
R & R Ranch
R & R Rawlins
The place was easy enough to find. And the further down the drive I get, the more impressive the property is. Blue rattles along the gravel driveway. She’s low on fuel and running hot. I can tell by the heated engine oil fragrance she’s sporting.
“Almost made it, girl. Hold on.” I pat the wheel and look for a place to park. Decided on beside the homestead gate, I let her idle for a moment before killing the engine.
A woman waves from just inside the yard and wipes her brow before making her way to the gate. Six white cabins with red trim sit along a winding stream behind the main homestead. Two barns—one that looks like stables, and a larger one to the east. The doors are closed, but it’s enormous. Must be the event venue mentioned in the ad. Four of the cabins have guests, judging by the cars parked in the small driveways in front of each.
The gate squeaks, and I wipe my hands on my shorts. They feel too short. Since beggars can’t be choosers when fleeing one’s home, this is what I have. I plaster on a bright smile and hope it’s enough to distract her from my inadequate clothes and bruised face. No amount of concealer was enough to hide the damage. Even after twenty minutes of trying my best to cover the impact of Joel’s hand on my face, a shadow is still noticeable.
“Hi, I’m Grace. I’m here about the cleaner position.” I offer her my hand.
She smiles, and the happiest green eyes framed by dark blonde hair light up. She frowns for a moment, and I am one hundred percent certain she is staring at my broken face. I swallow and make a point of looking around the ranch. “It’s an amazing place you have here.”
“I’m sorry, hon,” the older lady says with a sad smile. “The position is already filled.”
My gut sinks.
My hopes have been rising with every mile I drove down this dirt road. “Oh, okay. Sorry to have wasted your time, Mrs. Rawlins.”
“Did you come far?” Her face is wrinkled with concern now.
“A little, but not to worry, I can find something back in town.” I wring my hands together in front of me.
“Before you go, come in for some tea. You look like you could use something sweet.”
The air in my lungs rises, only to lodge in my throat. She’s definitely figured it out, then.
“That’s not necessary. Thank you anyway, Mrs. Rawlins.”
“Goodness, y’all call me Louisa. Mrs. Rawlins was my mother-in-law.”
The ad was placed by a Ruby Rawlins. Who is this lady, then?
“So, you’re not Ruby?” I ask.
She gestures for me to follow her into the house. I follow, looking around at the old trees in the front yard, the fairy lights draped from every single branch. I bet that’s stunning at nighttime. I’m sad I won’t get to see them now.
We walk inside, and Louisa calls out for Ruby. Footsteps rush down the stairs in the center of the front room. A blonde woman, around ten years older than me, skips down them. Her brown eyes land on me and a smile stretches her face.
“Ruby, this is Grace. She drove all the way here for the cleanin’ job.” Louisa waves a hand toward me as she walks to the fridge and pulls out a jug of what I assume is sweet tea.
“Oh wow. I hope you didn’t come too far.” Ruby shakes my hand.
I can’t respond. I feel out of place. Underdressed. Out of my element and altogether stupid for not checking the posting’s updates.
“Where did you say you drove from?” Louisa says, prompting me as we sit at the round dining table off from the kitchen counter.
“I, ah—” My gaze swings between them.
Ruby glances at Louisa before sipping her tea.
“Mississippi, actually.”
Louisa’s eyes widen and she returns her tea to the table with a thump. “Well now, that is an awful long way for a job, young lady.”
Ruby studies me for a moment. I fight the heat that rises under her perusal. So much for nobody noticing my bruises.
“Lou, don’t you have that other position over at Mackinlay’s that needs filling?”
The two women share a look before Louisa sits up and gives me a warm smile. “You know, I almost forgot, we have been needin’ a carer, live-in housekeeper type, for the other ranch. You would be perfect for the job. The last three employees didn’t suit. The manager, he is... well, he’s particular.”
A grin bursts over Ruby’s face.
“Why? What’s wrong with him?” I ask, eyes darting between the two women.
Ruby tamps down a smile before squeezing my hand. “He’s just a bit of a grump after his accident. His mobility is a problem right now, hence the live-in position. I’m sure you can handle him.”
I’ve come this far. No turning back now. Besides, after Joel, I’m certain this manager couldn’t be worse. By the sounds of it, his injuries debilitate him. Safe enough, I guess. And much better than sleeping in Blue.
“Sure, when can I start?”
Louisa’s face lights up. “How does tomorrow sound?”