9
TAYLOR
THE PRINCESS IN THE TOWER
Clicking the bedroom door shut behind me, I sink down against the back of the door until I reach the floor. Resting my head against the sturdy wood, I inhale slowly and close my eyes.
I don’t know how to feel. So much has happened in such a short space of time. My emotions are a rollercoaster of highs and lows, dips and spins. I’m used to living on high alert, waiting for something to go wrong. I’m used to being attuned to the feelings of others and adapting myself to fit. I’m used to expecting abuse and needing to protect myself and Molly as best as I can. But here, at Twin Springs, it’s different.
My body is tingling in ways I never knew possible.
I don’t know these men, but in all our interactions, I’ve found them to be decent. They have funny ideas about how they want to live their lives and brought me into it without consulting me first. That should make me mad. I should feel used and abused. Sex with three men is… well, it isn’t normal.
Feeling so much pleasure delivered by almost strangers is confusing. My intuition feels like it should be off balance after so many years of abuse. Everything that has happened since I arrived has been a sensory overload, but having a good cry and releasing so much built-up emotion feels good. Maverick was so kind and protective. And what came next. Something about him reaches deep inside me as if we’re kindred spirits. I let my mind wander back to the sound of his voice, the feel of his warm hand comforting me, his gentle eyes searching mine, his body moving inside me. My heart thuds a tune of its own, a song with his voice lightly singing the lyrics. He’s starting to find his way into my psyche, and there doesn’t seem like much I can do to stop it.
I take my new items into the bathroom. I dribble the new rose-scented bath foam into the gushing water and place one of the disposable razors and the shaving gel onto the roll-top bath edge. I place the lip gloss and blush into the bathroom cabinet and turn the mascara in my hand, wondering if it will be easy to apply, before putting that away, too. There’s a tingle in my tummy, a feeling of optimism, maybe. I’m going to take the first step in paying myself some attention. I’m going to make myself pretty, and it’s going to work out. I have to be positive. Looking down at the plain band signaling my marriage to Clint, I claim a new mantra. I’m the wife of a cowboy. I’m someone. I can imagine Maverick’s voice encouraging me. I’ve never been in a position before to think about lighthearted things, like nail polish or beauty regimes. All I have ever been able to focus on is staying alive and surviving. And making sure Molly can do the same.
The better I look, the better I fit in, and the closer I get to asking them to help my sister.
The bath is relaxing, but my racing mind won’t let up. A piece of my soul is missing, and she’s out there, alone with our father and in who knows what sort of state. After only a short soak, I give up and decide to dress in some of my new clothes. My phone is in the side dresser, turned off, and as I wait for it to fire up, I wonder if I’ll have any messages. No new messages. I almost breathe a sigh of relief. No news is good news. But then, a moment later, one new message. It’s Natalie.
Hey, you. Where are you? Missing you around here. Let me know if you’re all right!
This one message makes me feel less alone and like I do at least have a link to the outside world, the real world. But it also sends a ripple of panic through me. Why hasn’t she mentioned Molly?
Hey, Natalie. I’m okay. I’ll call and explain what’s going on when I get the chance. Did Molly come to see you?
The message remains unread. I know Natalie won’t be able to check her phone on shift, but unease settles in my stomach. But after only a minute, the phone rings.
“Natalie!” The relief in my voice is palpable.
“Taylor! Where’ve you been? You missed your shift. I tried calling you, but you didn’t pick up.” My heart drops.
“Didn’t Molly come on Saturday?”
There’s a pause. “Molly? No. Why?”
“Shit.” I stand rigid, my phone clutched so tightly in my hand that my tendons ache.
“When you didn’t come to work, I drove past your place, but it was dark. Not even a porch light. I didn’t want to disturb your dad. I thought maybe you were ill.”
“I’m not ill. Just away for a while.”
“Away where?”
I want to confide in my friend, but I can’t. I’m too ashamed of what my dad has done to me and the risk that will be put on Molly. He’s a terrible father, but the alternative of foster care or a group home is worse. How would I find Molly again if she’s taken away? All I need is a few weeks, and then, if I can make Clint, Jesse, and Maverick like me enough, maybe they’ll let me bring Molly here.
“Would you go round?” I ask. “Maybe take a pie. Have a reason for being there.”
“Yeah. Of course, Taylor. Should I be worried about you… about Molly?”
“No.” The word comes out too quickly, and Natalie is silent for a while. I can almost hear the questions running through her mind, but she decides not to probe.
“Can you let me know when you’ve seen her? I asked her to fill in for me. It’s not like her to not listen.”
“Of course. I miss you here, you know. It’s not the same without you.”
“I miss you, too.”
There’s a pause, and I can tell that Natalie wants to ask more questions, but she must think better. “Okay, then. Bye for now!”
“Yeah. Bye.”
I rest the phone in my lap as helplessness grips me by the throat. Outside my door, a floorboard creaks. The house is old, so it’s probably just a movement, but then the sound of retreating footsteps becomes obvious. Who was out there, and how much of my conversation with Natalie did they hear?
I have to pull myself together to do what I’m so used to doing. To pretend that I’m fine and just get on with it. I’m here to work and to serve the needs of these cowboys, not languish around with baths worrying about lipgloss. I glance at myself in the mirror, in a new tank and jeans. My hair curls damply around my face. My cheeks are as pink as my lips. Already, I look like a different person.
What would Molly think if she saw me in these nice clothes? Would she be happy, or would she feel like I left her behind to better myself?
She’s not a little girl anymore. She’s heading into womanhood, and the thought of her facing any of the things that maturity has brought me fills me with dread.
I can get to her before anything bad happens, I tell myself. I say a silent prayer for protection for my sister. I’d suffer any kind of pain to keep her safe. If the cowboys ask me who I was talking to, I won’t tell them. It’s too soon. But hopefully, if I play my cards right and become everything they want me to be, they’ll help me.
Before I leave my room, I swipe a layer of gloss over my lips, and manage a few strokes of mascara, too. I can be what they want me to be. Forming myself around the needs of others is the only way I know how to live.
Downstairs, there’s a note left propped on the table. We have some friends coming over later on. Can you please prepare dinner for six and bake something sweet? Thanks. J
Maybe it was Jesse who was at my door?
A frisson of nerves and anticipation sets the hair rising on the back of my neck. I get the feeling he won’t like secrets. When I asked him a question, he was straight and honest with his answer.
Friends? A sinking feeling quickly settles in the pit of my stomach instead. But it’s not my job to question, only to ensure everyone will be fed and watered. Maverick bought a good whiskey. Perhaps it’s someone’s birthday? He didn’t say.
At least I can lose myself in doing something I love. I set about grabbing ingredients from the cupboard. Beads of sweat are already pooling on my top lip and around my temples with the effort of fighting away my rising anxiety in the heat of the kitchen. As the window is already ajar, I attempt to open the door to the verandah, and at first, I can’t figure out what is going on. I try the handle again. But then the realization dawns on me: the cowboys have locked me in. Confused and alarmed, this time, I have no control over myself and just about make it to the sink before throwing up.