Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Panic fluttered in Samantha’s stomach. How had those words slipped out? “I’m sorry. It isn’t my place to say such things.” She pulled her arms tighter against her body as she waited for him to shout at her.
He shook his head. “I’m so sorry for behaving harshly with you earlier, Samantha. Please don’t be afraid to speak freely to me. I will do my utmost to never treat you that way again. You deserve better than that.”
Why was he apologizing to her? Why did she deserve better?
“What do you mean I punish myself?”
Her heartbeat was rapid, but then she remembered the kindness he’d shown her.
How gentle he’d been with her. He wouldn’t hurt her, even if she spoke truthfully.
“I’ve only been here a short time, but already I have seen you set yourself an insurmountable number of tasks, and then blame yourself when you’re unable to complete them all. You’re only one man, Trent.”
“But they’re all tasks that need to be completed. After everything he’s done for me, the least I can do is take care of his estate.”
“And me. It’s why you took me on, even though I’m one more thing for you to take care of.
You think you owe him, because he didn’t punish you.
And so, when your body finally gave out last night, and those around you stepped in to help, you lashed out.
We were getting in the way. Preventing you from punishing yourself in his stead. ”
For a long time, he seemed stunned into silence.
His eyes weren’t focused on anything, as his thoughts must have turned inward.
Eventually, he nodded. “Although it’s hard for me to admit, I think you’re right about most of that.
I probably am trying to punish myself, because no one else ever seems to.
But that isn't why I agreed to have you come here.”
“Why else would you bring me here, if not out of obligation? You’d never even met me.”
He shrugged. “In truth, even that was probably born of selfishness. I wasn’t able to help my mother, so I hoped… hope, I’ll be able to help you. Although I feel undeserving of your trust after my outburst this morning.”
He looked so defeated. But she knew he was strong, honorable, and selfless to a fault.
She got out of her chair and knelt between his feet.
His body stiffened, and shame soured her stomach.
He’d no doubt been warned of her behavior from Michael.
She pushed down her embarrassment and held out her hands, offering them, but not forcing them, just as he’d done for her.
He smiled slightly before settling his own on top.
“Last night, you showed me things I didn’t know were possible,” she said, looking down at their hands.
“You were kind, patient, honorable, understanding, wise, and so incredibly strong. I was completely naked, and even pushed your hand between my legs, and you didn’t shame me or use me.
You didn’t claim my body as your own. Instead, you gave me respect, support, and encouragement, and you carried me through something anyone else would have run from. You have already helped me.”
Skepticism filled his eyes. He wasn’t sure if he could believe her. With a sigh, he squeezed her hands. “I have an idea. I think we may be able to put your sketches to good use. And since Brennan is forcing me to take the day off, it will be the perfect way to spend my time.”
“My sketches?” Dread sent a wave of cold through her. “I’m not sure I want to look at them again. Last time it culminated in me screaming and sobbing on your lap.”
“I think that was good for you, though. As hard as it is, you need to feel those things. The fear and anger that you’ve held in for all this time, it needs to come out so you can let it go, and fill that void with happiness instead.”
She shook her head. She didn’t want them to come out. “I don’t think it’s natural for a woman to behave that way. If I unleashed the full spectrum of the things I know I have buried within me, you’d surely take me back to the asylum.”
His brow dipped ominously. “You were in an asylum?”
She pulled her hands away.
He didn’t stop her, but his hands remained there for her. “Don’t be ashamed, Samantha. And please don’t retreat from me.”
Her heart fluttered with uneasiness. She looked up at his eyes and down at his hands. Slowly, she rested her own back on top of them. “I thought you knew,” she said quietly.
“I purposely know very little about your past. I’d like to know more if you want to share with me, but what’s important to me is your future.”
“You obviously knew that I tried to take my own life.”
“Yes. Your brother wanted me to know that.”
“That’s why he took me to Auburn Ridge.”
“Well, you’re here now, and you’ll never go back to a place like that.”
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t feel worthy here, Trent. I don’t feel worthy either,” she admitted.
He breathed out a sad sigh. “Go get your sketchbook.”
She retrieved the book and walked with him across the grounds to a small barn. There were no animals inside, but a large, cylindrical bag of some sort hung from the rafters.
“This is where I come when I need to release some frustration or anger.” He threw a punch into the bag. The movement and sound startled her, and she took an involuntary step back.
“I will never hit you, Samantha. Not for any reason. And I mean that fully. Not if I’m angry. Not even if you hit me. I will never, ever raise a hand to you.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I brought you out here so that you can let out some emotions.”
Panic flickered through her and cinched around her lungs. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” She was afraid to bring up those feelings again. Not to mention, she was still embarrassed from the last time.
“Are you willing to try? I’ll be right here if you need my support.”
After a moment, she nodded. His smile filled with pride. Why was he so kind to her?
“That’s the hardest step, and you’ve already conquered it.”
“Now you’re just trying to flatter me so I won’t feel silly.” Even still, warmth blossomed in her cheeks.
“I?” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I would never stoop to such measures.” He winked and she laughed nervously.
“Stand here.” He moved out of the way so she could position herself beside the bag.
“What is this?” She pressed a hand to the canvas. It seemed to be filled with straw.
“It’s my makeshift punching bag. Don’t tell Ash, or the next thing I know he’ll be buying me a proper one.”
Laughing with him lessened some of her worry. “I’ll keep your secrets, Trent.”
His smile was gracious and kind and caused a fluttering in her stomach that she didn’t fully understand. But she had an inkling of what it could mean, and that frightened her.
He took her sketchbook and set it aside. “First, let me see you make a fist.”
She curled her fingers in and held it up for him.
“Pull your thumb out.” His hands were warm as he helped her to position everything just right.
“Perfect. Now we’re going to start out slow. Feet like this.” He stood, his feet apart, one slightly in front of the other. He lifted his fists and slowly twisted his body, pushing the punch forward before pulling it back.
She tried to copy him but felt silly and awkward. “I’m no good at this, Trent.”
“Of course you’re not. You’ve never done this before. How could you possibly be good at it?”
He stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Slow and controlled. Turning your body is what will propel the punch. Not just your arm.”
She nodded and he guided her as she turned. With his help, it felt a little better. They did another repetition just the same.
“That’s it. Now you do it on your own, just like that.”
She moved her body, just as before, and a sense of achievement grew within her. She repeated it a few more times.
“See? You just needed a little guidance and practice. Faster this time, but focus on the form more than the speed.”
After a few minutes, it began to feel more natural. For the first time in her life, she was learning to move her body in a way that wasn’t intended to attract a man’s gaze, and it was liberating.
“That’s perfect! Are you ready to try one into the bag?”
It was far from perfect, but she nodded excitedly.
“Let’s get your hand wrapped up first. He pulled down some strips of red cloth that were draped over one of the ropes that suspended the bag. He wrapped the fabric around her hand and wrist to add a layer of protection.
“What about the other hand?”
“One at a time. We’re only working with the right hand today. Now, step up until your fist rests against the bag when you hold your arm out straight.”
She did as instructed, and he nodded. “Is that how your feet should be?”
She laughed. The question reminded her of how he talked to Maggie. But it didn’t feel patronizing. It was sweet.
“Better,” he said as she moved her feet into position. “Nice and slow, just like your very first time, except this time, you’re going to push against the bag.”
After a few repetitions, she was eager to throw a proper punch.
“Alright, harder and faster this time.”
Her breathing faltered at his words, but he didn’t even seem to recognize the double entendre. He certainly hadn’t done it on purpose, which was both comforting and confusing. She shook herself and focused on the task at hand.
Her fist connected firmly with the bag.
“Good, but don’t let your wrist flex back.” His hands stirred something in her stomach again as they brushed over her hand and arm. “Keep it strong through here. Just like this.” For a moment, their eyes locked. He cleared his throat and stepped back.
“Again.” He nodded toward the bag.
She swung, keeping her wrist strong this time.
“Very good. Harder this time, but don’t forget your form.”
She slammed her fist against the bag and this time, it actually moved.
“Yes! That’s it!” He picked up her sketchbook and opened it. “Which one of these makes you feel something?”