Chapter 16 #2
Oh, what was she thinking? She was engaged, and even if she wasn’t, Yuri Amos was the last man she could get any romantic inclinations about.
He released the last button, then slowly tugged the glove off her hand.
His frown deepened as he surveyed the skin. It was ugly and discolored from fading bruises, and even though the swelling had gone down when she’d worn the sling, it was coming back.
She’d looked at it as little as possible over the past week and covered it with a glove from the moment she woke every morning to when she went to bed each night.
Yuri’s touch remained gentle as his fingers skimmed over the worst of the bruising, then he rotated her wrist with a slow turn.
She sucked in a breath when the movement sent a stab of pain up her arm.
His eyes flitted briefly up to hers, then he moved his gaze right back to her hand. Next, he took her sleeve itself and slowly slid it a few inches above her elbow, stopping only when the fabric constricted and wouldn’t go any farther.
She looked away, toward the bookshelf, the floor, anything that wouldn’t allow him to see her eyes.
He was completely silent, but somehow that was worse than facing his anger. Somehow that said more than if he had started yelling or stumbled over himself trying to talk.
Yuri wanted to be sick again. The bruising was more severe than he’d imagined.
Splotches of purple and green and yellow crept from her wrist halfway up her forearm.
And the bruises higher on her arm, away from her wrist, looked newer.
They were deep purple instead of fading yellow and green, and some of them were groups of little ovals, the perfect size and shape of fingers.
His pulse kicked hard in his throat. He wanted to tear something apart. Her father. The walls. The world that let men like him walk free.
How had he missed this? How had he met her on the beach for three years without knowing? How many times had he said hello to her in town without the faintest inkling something was wrong? How many other bruises had she been hiding?
And why hadn’t she told him?
He drew in a slow breath. “You’ll have to forgive me. I usually tell people that a merry heart fixes most things. But no amount of laughter or joking will fix this. You have to let me get you out.”
“Get me out?” she whispered. “What are you talking about?”
“You can’t stay in Sitka. What if your father does this again? What if it’s worse next time?”
She tugged her arm away, her eyes dropping to the floor. “He hasn’t touched me since my engagement. Besides, Leeland will take me away from all this in a few months.”
Leeland. Yuri raked a hand through his hair. He didn’t trust that man to behave himself around Rosalind either. “Is he going to treat you any better?”
Her lip trembled, but all she said was, “He hasn’t hit me.”
“Not yet. But he’s known for having a temper when he drinks. What’s he going to do when he takes you to a completely different city?”
“Please, Yuri, this isn’t your problem,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain on the roof.
“What if I want it to be?” he rasped, his voice coarse and gritty.
Something flickered across her face—surprise, confusion, hope?—he wasn’t sure what to name it.
“I have a plan, but it’s complicated.”
“How’s it complicated?”
A strand of golden hair had come loose from her pins, and she shoved it away from her face. “If I leave, if I run wherever you want me to go, my father will be able to find me. And now he has Leeland to help him.”
“No. We’ll put you somewhere safe, hide you in a small town where he’d never think to look.” He’d put more thought into this than he wanted to admit.
She shook her head. “It won’t be enough. He’ll still find me.”
He raked a hand through his hair. “How? He can’t send men to search every town in the country. That’s impossible even for him.”
“That’s not how he’ll find me.” She turned toward the crate of books again, as though suddenly remembering there was work to be done. “He’ll trace me through my money.”
“You mean the donations you make to the charities? Isn’t that your father’s money?”
She bent to pick up one of the books, then frowned at him.
“No. It was my mother’s. She left me an inheritance after she died, and when I turned eighteen, I got access to the money.
I’ve been investing on my own for the past four years, and I have six places I support.
You already know about the charities. Even if I leave, my solicitor will still need to send money to my list of charities, which means I’ll have to communicate with him.
It’s the same solicitor who handled my mother’s accounts before she died, and my father knows him. That’s how he’ll find me.”
The money she was donating to charities was hers? Yuri stared at her. Everything he’d thought he’d known about Rosalind Caldwell had just cracked down the middle not once but twice in the course of the same conversation.
“I, ah . . . I assume this is a good amount of money?” It had to be for her to support so many charities.
“Yes.” She pressed onto her toes and slid the book she was holding onto the top shelf.
“I’ve managed the investments on my own too, but even though none of it belongs to my father, he’s powerful enough to pressure the bank into putting his name on my account.
And once he does that, he could take the money from me. Then where would I be?”
“I don’t even want to know how much ‘a good amount’ is in your world.”
The town might whisper behind her back about her privilege and her father’s power, but she’d really been investing and giving to others, making decisions for herself and growing a future. All while being too trapped to fully make use of her money.
He gave his head a small shake. “I could lend you money to live on for a few months, and surely the orphanages and women’s shelters and all the other places you’ve been supporting will understand if you ceased your donations for a bit so we can get your funds transferred to another bank and moved to a new solicitor that your father doesn’t know about. ”
She turned to him, another book in her hand.
“In order to change solicitors, I’d have to go to Washington, DC.
But after that, I could leave and disappear rather quickly, couldn’t I?
I suppose I could send all the charities rather large gifts in February and explain in my letter that I won’t be able to send funds for six months.
That should be enough time to get my money moved. ”
“Do it, Ros, and don’t wait until February. Do it now. None of the places you support would want you living in a situation where you could be hurt just so you can send them money.”
She swallowed, the delicate muscles of her throat working.
“Promise me you’ll do it. Promise me you’ll try to leave.” He took a step closer, not caring how desperate he sounded. “Before you get hurt worse. Don’t let your fear of your father stop you from doing what you need to do most. God will protect you.”
“I’m already working on a plan. It will take time, maybe a month or two, but you don’t need to worry. Father hasn’t been violent lately.” Rosalind slid the book in her hand onto the shelf that was even with her elbow. “Father didn’t even get angry after I failed to get the library named after him.”
“That’s why you wanted to . . .” His throat turned dry, memories of last week’s library committee meeting flooding his mind. “He’s . . . he’s going to hurt you if we don’t plaster the name Caldwell on the new library?”
“That’s what I’m saying. Usually he’d be angry with me, but when I got back from the meeting last week, prepared to give him the news, Leeland was there, and he proposed.” She bent down and picked up three books from the crate. “Father wasn’t even upset about the library.”
“But he will be once we pick a name.”
“Hopefully not, since I’m engaged. Like I said, he’s been very lenient lately. That’s why he let me come here. And a couple days ago, he let me invite Millicent, Jane, and Freya over for tea. The only friend I’m not permitted to see is Bryony.”
He didn’t trust any of it. “How long will this ‘good mood’ last? What happens when something makes your father angry again? Will you bear the brunt of it?”
She turned away and slid one of the books onto the shelf at her elbow, right beside the previous book she’d shelved. “Like I said, I have a plan, but it might take a couple months. But you don’t need to worry about me, I promise. I’ll find a way to survive.”
He pressed his eyes shut. “This isn’t the kind of thing anyone should have to survive. Your father’s first job should be to protect you. You have bruises from his fingers on your arm, and they look fresh.”
She slid the other two books onto the second shelf from the top, then rolled her shoulder in its socket. “I’ve always bruised easy. Not everything is how it appears.”
“Are you telling me your father never grips your arm a little too hard? What about your fiancé? Is he gentle with you?”
She was silent.
“Ros, your well-being matters more than the money. Don’t let that keep you here.
” His voice came out rougher than he intended.
“We can untangle the accounts later. Right now, you need to be safe. I can have you on a ship headed away from Sitka with two days’ notice.
I could probably even take the skiff and leave in the dead of night tonight, then take you to a port where your father won’t be able to trace you.
Maybe Vancouver or Portland? You could get on a train from there, and no one will know you even arrived in town.
We can change your name. We can buy you a wig so that your hair’s a different color.
We can do anything. I’ll even go with you to Washington, DC, just to make sure no one your father’s hired has found you.
Just tell me what you want, and I’ll see it’s done. ”
She looked at him for a long moment, her eyes filled with something he couldn’t quite name. Then her gaze drifted to the floor and her shoulders hunched in on herself. “Just give me a few more days to work on my plan.”
“You don’t need a perfect plan to leave.
You just have to let me help get you away from here and trust God to keep you safe.
Do you remember the verse I shared with you at the wedding reception?
‘Fear thou not; for I am with thee: be not dismayed; for I am thy God: I will strengthen thee; yea, I will help thee; yea, I will uphold thee with the right hand of my righteousness.’ That verse is still in the Bible.
Those promises are still yours to claim if you want them. ”
“I’m trying, Yuri,” she whispered. “Please believe me when I say I’m trying.” Then she turned her back to him and returned to shelving books.